CHAPTER 3
Jason in action was transformed. The gruffness disappeared and he became friendly and helpful. A workaholic, he thrived on activity. Donna in turn found herself responding. Her mood lifted a little and life seemed less unbearable. Perhaps Jason was right in thinking an increase in energy was the answer. A second chance under more favorable circumstances ... perhaps it was worth investigating. It was probably true, she thought, what the poet said, "When one door closes another opens." Well, I've closed one door. Who knows what happiness or what horror may be waiting behind the door that is opening for me?
Jason arranged for an indefinite leave of absence from the University, and they started preparations for the treatment, which he estimated would take about four weeks. He began by running routine tests to determine the state of her health. He found her to be in good condition and an ideal subject for his experiment.
"Will my appearance be altered?" she asked at one point.
"Of course," Jason said jokingly. "You'll wake up looking like a frog."
"Fun-ne," she said. "No, really."
"Unless I'm mistaken you'll come out of this looking years younger, and very attractive."
"How can you change an Ugly Duckling like me into a swan?"
"You're no Ugly Duckling." He ran one finger across her eyebrow, he touched her cheekbones, the outline of her nose, and the strong line of her chin. "You have very good bone structure. You're already a potentially beautiful woman."
She went to a mirror and looked at herself. "But drab and colorless," she said.
"My treatment should make you glow and sparkle. That can make any woman beautiful."
She turned to face him. "Unless something goes wrong."
"Nothing will go wrong. Trust me."
Donna sat down again. "If I come out of this transformation and rejuvenated, I'll need a new identity, won't I? I can't just reappear as Donna Harris."
"No problem," he assured her. "I have several identities arranged for.. I've been making preparations."
"What kind of preperations?"
For a moment he looked uncertain, as if wondering how much he should tell her. "A few years ago," he began, "my sister Louise became the guardian of a young girl whose parents were killed in a plane crash. Brenda and Lee Somersby were their names. Louise met them when Lee was stationed in Paris, and they remained friends over the years. He worked for a major oil company and their life was sometimes precarious, living as they did in strife-torn areas of the world. They had no near relatives, and asked Louise if she would look after their daughter in case something should happen to both of them. The girl was sixteen when she came to live with Louise."
The recounting of this story had awakened old memories, and he paused for a moment before continuing. "My sister became very fond of the girl. She filled the void in Louise's life left by the death of her husband. But the whole Somersby family seemed star-crossed, for the girl was later accidentally killed also."
"How tragic." The look of concern on Donna's face turned slowly to one of questioning. "But Louise would know I wasn't this girl, wouldn't she?"
"She died last spring. She was several years my senior, but we were close, even though we didn't see each other often. Close enough that I could ask her for a copy of the girl's birth certificate and she could give it to me with no questions asked."
"What was the girl's name?"
Jason brought his mind back from the past and smiled at Donna. "She had an unusual name ... Farah. Farah Somersby."
"I think it's a pretty name. And so exotic. Wasn't there an Egyptian princess by that name?"
"I think her name is Fawzia. But you're close, it's an Arab name."
"And I can use her name?"
"Why not? She had no close relatives and had lived abroad for most of her life. Who's to know you're not really Farah? Who's to ask?"
"Farah." Donna rolled the name over on her tongue. "I think it's perfect."
Later that day, as Jason was preparing to go out for some supplies he said he would need, he said abruptly, "Do you speak French, Donna?"
She looked at him in surprise. "Not really. I studied it in school, but have forgotten practically everything I learned. Why?"
"Because Farah, of course, spoke French like a native. It may never be important, but might be a safeguard. Anyway, it's no problem. You have the basics. Maybe you don't consciously remember, but it's all there in your subconscious. I'll pick up some French conversation tapes to play while you're under treatment."
"Do you think they really work?"
"I've done some experimenting with them, and, yes, they do."
"Good," Donna said. She thought about asking him to get her a change of clothing while he was out, she couldn't go on washing them out nightly, but decided not to. If things didn't turn out right she wouldn't need them.
He was back soon with his supplies, and took them out to his laboratory. She didn't hear him return and didn't know he was there until he spoke her name. She turned to find him looking at her very seriously.
"Are you ready to begin?" he asked.
Panic seized her. It must have shown on her face, for Jason said kindly, "You can still back out. I wouldn't blame you."
Donna looked into his concerned face and said, with false bravado, "Back out? Me? Not a chance. Let's get started."
Reassured, he put her into a state of unconsciousness, and the treatment began.