He's Her (Available at Wild Rose Press, Amazon, Barnes and Nobels, etc.), Mimi Barbour [ready player one ebook TXT] 📗

He's Her--Out Now from The Wild Rose Press!

One minute a casino owner from Vegas, Rhett Parks, was relaxing on a bench in a small English town. To his dismay, a young woman interrupted his sanctuary. A minute later, his body was out cold on the ground and he was taking up residence inside the intruder, schoolteacher Carrie Temple — and without her permission.

Her first words, "Get out," didn't solve anything because he had no idea of how he "got in." During the next few weeks they fought each other, taught each other, and began to love each other, not an easy accomplishment considering the situation, but doable, as Rhett proved to sweet, naïve Carrie.

They became involved with strange Dr. Andrews, who assured them he had the answers to solve their problem, but Rhett’s brother Ashley, to whom they turned for help, was absolutely certain that the man they were putting their faith in was a charlatan and a quack


Prologue
2007
“If we do this, there’ll be no turning back. Sweetheart, are you sure it’s what you want?” His frail voice wavered.
“I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life. I want to keep you with me—always. Please, please understand. You must.” The grey-haired woman, faded beauty in her weary face, leaned her slender form towards the pale travesty of a once vibrant man. The washed out blue pajamas he wore were typical hospital couture; not so was the luxurious, navy velour robe that hung on his withered frame. In contrast, dressed in her stylish turquoise dress, the woman had a youthful heartiness and an innate vitality despite the tired lines around her eyes.
Her companion sighed, slapped his hands on his knees and nodded. “Right! We’ll leave as soon as we can make the arrangements. Each day my strength fails a little more. I don’t want to be a burden longer than necessary, and the doctors did warn us that the end would come quickly.”
“Darling, I’ve asked your brother to come, and he’s willing and ready to leave at a moment’s notice. He’ll be a strong arm to cling to, through everything.”
“Yes, it’s a good idea.” He leaned to tenderly caress the beloved face of the woman he’d adored for forty-seven wonderful years. “You’re still so beautiful, my wild rose.”
“And you’re still a silver-tongued devil.” She kissed him softly, lingeringly.
“Sweetheart, I must tell you. I feel a sense of relief in making this decision.”
“You do? I’m glad.” She gently patted his dear face.
He nodded, gazing into her eyes, his own full to the brim with tears. “It’s because I know now that I won’t be leaving you, after all.”


Chapter One
1967
The tall, slim, well-endowed broad was strolling directly towards him. Damn! He didn’t want to share this bench with anyone else, even a classy chick like her. The last few hectic days had taken their toll. He needed to catch his breath and unwind. Alone!
She smiled and nodded in acknowledgement of him and continued to head toward the back of his bench, where a luxurious, fragrant bush full of wild roses spread its splendour. Rhett watched her slide tiny garden clippers from her shoulder bag. He supposed she was pilfering roses, and he wished she’d get on with it and leave him to his peaceful sanctuary. He heard a snipping sound, followed immediately by a whimper and a sucking noise as she babied what must be a wound. Feeling peevish, he ignored her.
This pretty spot, just in front of the timeworn vicarage and near a busy country lane, had become Rhett’s safe haven over the last few days of organizing and attending his father’s lonely funeral. The vicar, himself and his old man had been the only guests at the service. His father had wished to be buried in England, in the church cemetery near the vicarage close to where he’d grown up. Rhett decided to honour his last request, though why he felt it necessary was beyond him. The old guy had paid scant attention to his family, including Rhett, his oldest son. While Rhett was a boy, the old man ignored him. As the boy grew to be a man he reciprocated, and so they never had a close relationship.
Being an actor, making love to his leading ladies, and seeing his name in lights was all the fool cared about. Other than the ridiculous name bestowed on him, Rhett Parks inherited little else from the man who’d demanded to be called Father—never Dad.
“I’m sorry. I seem to have pricked myself. I feel slightly faint.” The intrusive woman stumbled toward the seat beside him and slumped onto it, letting her purse drop to the ground. Her rose, the instigator of the disruption landed at his feet.
Without hesitation, he bent and picked up the stem, feeling a sharp prick in his thumb as he did so. His annoyance doubled. Silly woman was the last thought he had for some time.
“Mr. Parks? Sir? Oh, my goodness. Whatever has happened?” The vicar rushed over and tried to hold up the large body of the collapsing man, but he found it impossible. The dead weight rolled over and landed in a heap on the grass beside the wooden bench. The clergyman turned to the white-faced woman, whose open eyes were fixed and empty. “Miss Temple? Miss Temple? Are you all right?” The vicar reached over and nudged Carrie’s shoulder.
“Ohhh!” Her head wobbled on her neck as she stirred.
A crowd began gathering on the sidewalk, and the perplexed vicar, in need of assistance, gestured to several of the men to come over to the bench.
“What’s up, Vicar? What’s wrong with the bloke? Is Carrie all right?”
“Shush! Call an ambulance. Mr. Parks has collapsed. Miss Temple is coming around, but she’s ill, also. I don’t know what happened. I’d decided to take my afternoon stroll, as it were, when I came across these two sitting on the bench together.
I couldn’t pass them by without saying hello, but before I had a chance to speak, Mr. Parks stiffened and moaned and started to fall over. I tried to catch him, but I couldn’t hold him. He’s a large man.” The vicar rambled on, his voice squeaking with nervous strain.
“Ooohhh! Vicar! What’s happened? I feel strange.”
“Yes, Miss Temple, I can see that.” The vicar, pulled in two directions at once, dithered back and forth until he finally settled on Carrie, whom he’d known since she was a child. He sat on the bench beside the ashen girl. “You’re extremely pale, my dear, and you’re trembling.” He clutched her shaking hand and patted it consolingly. “I think you’re unwell, but don’t upset yourself, there’s an ambulance coming. Mr. Temple has passed out, and we need to get him help.”
A young man from the crowd bent over the fallen man and used his fingers to check the pulse in Rhett’s neck. He nodded to the vicar, whose expression lightened.
“I have not passed out. I’m right here. I’m... What the hell is going on? How can I be here and my body be lying over there? Where am I?” He looked down and saw a blue dress draped over the skinny knees in front of him. The hands he held up were slender, with long fingers and beautifully manicured nails. A small pinkie ring adorned one hand and flickered with the smallest diamond he’d ever seen.
“What in blazes is going on?” He could have sworn he’d bellowed out the words but the sound he made was weak and feminine and whined more than it roared. “Is this some kind of joke?”
“Not at all a joke, Miss Temple. Not for poor Mr. Parks, it isn’t. The man’s out cold and hasn’t moved a muscle since we found him.” The vicar was elderly and clearly disturbed. “Mr. Parks buried his father this morning, and I’m wondering if he isn’t suffering a form of grieving trauma. I thought him a cold, uncaring man at the graveside, but this teaches me a lesson. People suffer in many different ways.”
The approaching ambulance’s siren made talking difficult as it screeched to a stop in front of the bench. Two conscientious attendants bundled the fallen man onto a stretcher and carried him to the back of the ambulance. The vicar pranced alongside, providing the driver with the facts, embellishing them somewhat. He disappeared into the front of the waiting vehicle. Being the centre of attention, a favoured role for the vicar, made his day.
By the time the paramedics turned to a befuddled and nauseous Carrie, her fear of hospitals had kicked in. She tried refusing to go along but was compelled to stop arguing. A strong force from within had taken control of her senses, and in no time she found herself next to the talkative vicar in the front of the ambulance. His voice trying to override the screeching vehicle wasn’t helping her looming migraine.
“Doesn’t the old geezer ever shut up?” a cynical voice inside her head stated clearly. She shut her eyes and willed herself not to think in such a manner. It wasn’t very Christian-like.
Soon she was sitting in the nondescript Emergency Area, waiting to see the doctor. She was aware of a strange, unwanted presence raging inside her. She tried restraining the force, but her power was like a leaf in a tornado. Speech resonated, echoing in her head. To cover it up, she started carrying on a conversation with herself—babbling. “I’ve lost it. I’ve finally cracked. I knew it would happen sooner or later, what with all the pressure I’ve been under recently. Now it’s happened. I’m bonkers, a raving lunatic. I suppose I’ll be dribbling next, smashing my head into the wall and playing with my hair, drooling...”
“Oh for heaven’s sake, stop it. Your chatter is driving me crazy.”
“Hold it! I’m thinking. I’m not talking out loud. You have no right to shush me in my own bloody head. Oh, God. I am mad.” Both hands slapped over her mouth as if to stop it from moving, except it hadn’t...
“If you are, then I am, too. Trust me, we aren’t crazy. I don’t know what occurred earlier, but the term ‘weirdly bizarre’ comes to mind. I seem to be lodged in your body, while mine is out cold.”
“Well I don’t like it. Get out!”
“Sure thing, no problem. Just tell me how?”
“I’m insane. I might as well sign myself into the asylum. It’s from those monsters at school. I knew they’d do me in.”
“You aren’t insane—a bit silly maybe, but not crazy. So stop thinking it. We have to put our heads together and figure a way out of this mess you got us into.”
“Our heads are together, you idiot, and I’ll think any bleedin’ way I want to. Heavens, listen to me. See what you’ve done—I’ve never talked to anyone like that before in my life. You’ve gone and made me dreadfully testy.”
“You’re testy? I’m fu...”
“Don’t you even think that in my head. There’ll be no swearing, or I’ll shut you off somehow. Do you understand me?”
“Fine, sorry. Think about it, though. I’m stuck in here with you, but my body is in trouble, and I have no idea what to do or how to get back into it. Maybe