The Glimpsing by James L. Black, Mary Byrnes Page A

his eye.   He smiled thinly.   It was the vivid red of Rose’s dress.   There you are , he gloated.   Right where I said you’d be.
    He lay there, taking in Rose’s seductive image with all the shallow glee of a carnival prize winner.   Everything was back to normal.   Last night’s encounter with the woman—which actually felt like mere seconds ago—really had been nothing but a dream.
    Then he noticed something that seemed to cast doubt on that thought.   The pile of satin sheets sprawling beside him was empty.   Gabrielle was not in bed.
    He peered down the hallway, looking out toward the bathroom for any sign of her.   He quieted his breathing, listening carefully for the slightest sound within the house.   Everything was perfectly still.
    Rose’s grim proclamation that he had sent her home wandered into his mind, but he stayed the thought, reminding himself that this was the first time Gabrielle had spent the entire night.   As such, he was completely unaware of her morning rituals.   She might have gotten up early and ventured down to the lower level for a dip in the pool, or taken a stroll out along the elaborate pathways behind the house.   She may even have sneaked off to the East wing, shut herself in the theater room, and was now comfortably enjoying a movie.   Who knew where she was, and frankly who cared.   Whatever the reason for her absence, it had nothing to do with the comments of some figment from a dream.
    Then Jack did hear something: the light tapping sound of shoes as they ascended the staircase.   He retrained his eyes down the hallway, fully expecting Gabrielle to appear at the top of the staircase—although for an unsettling instant he imagined it was Rose, rising to prove her reality.   To his surprise, however, the woman that appeared was neither Gabrielle nor Rose.   It was a plump fifty-something woman with streaky gray hair that was pulled back into a particularly tight bun.   Her name was Janice.   She was his housekeeper.
    He watched quietly as she strolled down the hall, a feather duster in one hand, a white cloth in the other.   On entering the bedroom she immediately began adeptly whistling the chorus of Amazing Grace.   She proceeded to the wet bar and began wiping it down.
    Jack was both baffled and amused by the fact that she had not noticed him in bed.   That amusement, however, became a bit of bewilderment when he saw the woman removing a half-empty bottle of wine from the countertop.   She tapped its cork back in place and slid it into the wine rack.   Taking hold of an empty wine glass sitting nearby, she moved it to the edge of the bar, probably so she’d remember to take it with her when she left.   The white cloth she left resting beside it.
    She moved away and began dusting the decorative ledge in front of the great mirror.   Having finished, she began toward the gallery.   Only then did Jack decide to make his presence known.
    “Hey!” he blurted.
    Janice gasped, jumping so badly that she dropped the feather duster to the floor.   What she’d heard sounded more like the hoarse croak of some dying animal than a human being.   She snapped her head in Jack’s direction and, seeing the catty smile on his face, solidly planted both fists on her hips.   “Have you gone mad?” she fumed.   “You could have given me a heart attack.”
    Jack was grunting laughter.
    Janice bent and picked up the feather duster.   “Quite the prankster, aren’t you?”
    Jack’s laughter had disintegrated to a barking cough.   When he had finished, he calmly folded his hands behind his head in a gesture of ultimate satisfaction.   Janice glared at him hotly.
    She turned and detoured toward one of the two floor-to-ceiling windows.   “What are you still doing here?” she offered conversationally.   “Too much carousing last night to get up and go to work?”
    “Apparently,” Jack replied carelessly.
    “That’s not like you.   You’re usually up