A Husband in Time (8 page)

“I don't care about the machine, Zach. What I care about is my son.”

“Me, too,” he said softly. And she felt a rush of guilt for objecting so strongly. Even more for what else was on her mind. She sighed, and lowered her head. “I know how important this is to you. I do. It's just…he's never had a father, Zach. And lately, all he's talked about is wanting one.”

“I understand that,” he said.

“No, you don't. You can't possibly. He's—”

“I understand, Jane.” He sighed, and placed a hand on her shoulder. “Benjamin and Cody have more in common than you know. My Ben…he's never known a mother's love, and since he's been ill, it's all he's talked about. Wanting a mother. I understand everything you're saying.”

He did, she realized slowly. She swallowed hard, looking him in the eye. “I'm sorry…about your wife, I mean.”

Zach lowered his head, but not before she saw the bitterness flash in his eyes. She frowned at him. But he shook his head, seemingly eager to change the subject. “This drug,” he said. “The one that can cure my son. Do you have any idea where I can obtain it?”

She drew a breath, lifted her chin. “I've been wanting to talk to you about that. Zach…”

“We can't get the medicine without a doctor helping us, can we, Mom?” They both turned to see Cody in the doorway, drying his small hands on a towel. “Don't you need a prescription?”

Zach's eyes met hers, and they were worried. “Yes,” she said. “It's a powerful antibiotic, and a controlled substance. You can't buy it unless a doctor orders it.”

“Then we'll contact a doctor,” Zach said. “We'll explain, and—”

“And he'll have us all tossed into a rubber room,” Jane said. It wasn't a good solution, and maybe it wasn't even a solution at all. More like a delaying tactic. When Zach only frowned, she explained, “He'll think we're nuts.”

“Then we'll find another way.” Zach's eyes were intense.

“We can look it up on the computer,” Cody said. “Find out how to make the medicine, and—”

Zach shook his head. “We'd have the same set of problems, though. We don't have the supplies or equipment we'd need to create the drug. And if we didn't get it exactly right, it might not work at all. I can't risk failure.”

Cody stood still, gnawing his lip. “Mom? You know how you said it was only okay to tell a lie when you really, really had to?”

She looked at her son through narrowed eyes. “Yeah?”

“Well, is it the same with, uh…with stealing?”

“Cody! You know it's never, ever all right to steal. Not ever!”

“Why, son?” Zach asked, going to Cody and kneeling in front of him. “Do you know where we can find some of these pills?”

“Sure. Doc Mulligan keeps all kinds of 'em in the little white cabinet at his office. 'Member, Mom?
When I had the strep throat? He just opened up his cabinet and got out a bottle of penicillin. He has lots of antibiotics in there.”

Zach looked at Jane. Cody looked at Jane.

“No.” She shook her head firmly. They were still looking at her. “No, we're not doing it. Isn't it bad enough we have the whole town thinking I'm having—” She bit her lip. “We're not going to convince them I'm a master burglar and a drug addict, as well.”

“We could leave money to pay for the pills, Mom. So it wouldn't
really
be stealing.”

“Cody Nicholas Fortune, I do not want to hear one more word about this. Do you understand? Not one word. No one in this house is stealing
anything, anywhere, anytime.
Got it?”

Cody's chin fell to his chest. “Yeah.”

“Good. Now…lunch is ready. Come on downstairs, the both of you.”

She sailed out of the room, and they followed.

“Perhaps,” she heard Zach saying, “I could convince this good doctor to give me some of the pills. If I were to see him, I mean.”

“He's smart,” Cody replied. “He always knows if you're faking it.”

“Well, maybe if I spoke to him. Where did you say his office was, Cody?”

Jane turned and glared at Zach, but Cody was already giving him detailed directions to Doc Mulligan's office. She couldn't put it off any longer. She had to talk to Zach, tell him why he couldn't go through with this. And she had to do it soon. Tonight, after Cody went to sleep.

Z
ach needed rest. Jane had made up a spare bedroom for him to sleep in. He hadn't taken advantage of it yet, though every muscle in his body was aching to do just that. He was fairly certain he was running a fever. He felt slow and a bit groggy at times. But then, at other times, he felt perfectly fine. The symptoms did not seem to be easing as quickly as he had expected they would. Hopefully the research he was doing while he waited for the device to recharge would give him the answers he needed to avoid this kind of illness hitting him on the return trip.

The device. It sat on Cody's desk beside his computer, and Zach picked it up, held it in his palm. Hard to imagine that something this small could mean the difference between life and death for his son. Already it was beginning to recharge. It might even be strong enough to open the doorway now, though if it wasn't at full power, there would be something different awaiting him on the other side. He might go back farther than he'd intended, which wouldn't be too terrible. Then again, he might not get back far enough. And that would be disastrous. No use risking it. He didn't have the drug yet, anyway. Two more days. The device would be at full power, and it
would send him back to the precise moment whence he'd come. And he'd save Benjamin's life.

He was glad that the time travel hadn't seemed to affect his intelligence. He'd picked up Cody's computer lessons very quickly, and spent half the night “inputting data,” as the boy called it. Transferring all his notes and calculations onto the computer. With the boy's help, he'd contacted a physicist in Detroit, and “downloaded” some “software” that enabled the computer to perform the tasks Zach needed it to. It was amazing. Utterly amazing.

He'd nearly finished filling this thing with all his notes. Cody had fallen asleep on his child-size bed. Zach felt bad for having the light on and clicking the keys while the child tried to sleep. It was time for a break, anyway. His eyes were beginning to glaze over.

He went to the bed, bent over it and gently slipped his arms beneath the sleeping child. When he picked him up, he was painfully reminded of Benjamin, so weak he could barely get out of bed anymore without Zach's help. Cody was heavy by comparison, and the age difference wasn't solely responsible for that, as Zach knew all too well.

He looked down at Cody's freckle-spattered face and red curls. And his heart squeezed tight. Lowering his head, he kissed the child's forehead. Zach wondered whether Cody's father were truly dead, or whether he'd simply abandoned his child the way Claudia had abandoned Benjamin. If he had, Zach thought grimly, he was a fool. To have a son like Cody and a woman like Jane… Any sane man would kill to keep them. Not walk away.

He stepped into the hallway, carried Cody to the guest room Jane had made up for him, then lowered him gently into that bed. He'd sleep more soundly here, without the light and the clicking keys. He tucked Cody in, and the boy stirred, opened his eyes and peered up at Zach.

“I wish,” he said, his voice slurred with sleepiness, “I could have a dad like you.”

Zach blinked the inexplicable burning that sprang into his eyes. “If I could, my boy, I'd make you my own.” Cody smiled and fell back into a deep sleep. But Zach only stood there, shocked at the words that had just fallen from his lips. Make Cody his own? And Jane, as well? Good Lord, what kind of foolish fancy had come over him just now? For just an instant, though, the thought had occurred to him, and now he couldn't get it out of his mind. The thought that he could take them both back with him when he opened that doorway the day after tomorrow. Make his son well, and give him the mother he'd been wishing for. And an older brother to boot. That he could keep Jane Fortune, that incredible mixture of modern woman and old-fashioned girl, by his side, make her a part of his life, for always…

Ridiculous. Not only did he have no use for a woman in his life, he had no delusions that Jane would agree to such a scheme. To leave her modern conveniences, her microwave, her automobile? To take Cody from his computers and Nintendo games? Half of what the child had learned in his life wasn't even known in Zach's time. No, it was a foolish notion, and one best left unexplored. He had his son,
and his work. And that was all he needed. All he'd ever needed.

He returned to Cody's computer screen, working some more, waiting, as he'd been waiting all night, for the sound of Jane's footsteps as she walked past on her way to bed. He glanced down at the note he'd made earlier, when he asked Cody if he knew the name of the drug that would cure quinaria. And, of course, the boy genius had readily supplied it. Tryptonine. He had everything he needed to proceed, but he couldn't do a damned thing until Jane was asleep. A glimpse at his watch told him it was after eleven, and she still hadn't retired. What was she waiting for?

The door opened, and Jane stood there, a cup of fragrant coffee in her hand. “I saw the light was still on,” she said. “Thought you could use sustenance.” When she came in, he saw the plate of cookies in her other hand. And his stomach growled a welcome.

“Thank you, Jane.”

“Are you going to stay at this all night?”

“I want to be ready. When the device has recharged, I need to be ready to use it. If I can find an explanation for these side effects before then, all the better.”

She nodded. “I know that, but Zach, you won't do Benjamin any good at all if you work yourself until you collapse.” She lifted the cup, and he took it, his hand touching hers. Jane frowned, quickly looking down at his hand. Then she came closer, pressed a palm to his forehead, and then to his cheek.

He liked her this close to him. He liked her touching him.

“You're burning up!”

“You're exaggerating. It's only a slight fever.”

Her brows rose, twin arches over beautiful eyes that he could have spent a very long time looking into. “So what is it? Are you coming down with quinaria fever, too?”

“No. I had it as a child and somehow survived, so I'm immune. This is just…another side effect, I suppose.”

She set the plate of cookies on the table and left the room, returning seconds later with a pair of small white tablets, which she gave to him. “Take these. They'll help with the fever.”

He did. And then he snatched up a cookie and dunked it.

“Zach, have you thought about what's going to happen to you when you go back through that…that portal of yours? If you don't find a way to avoid the side effects, I mean?”

He averted his eyes. “No way of telling. I've been trying to understand exactly what it was about the portal that caused these reactions, but so far, I just don't know.”

“You don't look any better than you did when you arrived. Worse, in fact.”

He shook his head. “No, it's no worse. Not much better, but a little. Perhaps I'll build up a tolerance, so that when I go back the side effects will be less pronounced.”

“Or maybe it will get worse every time, and you'll arrive back there barely able to function.”

“That's not a consideration, Jane. As long as I get
the drug back to Benjamin, I really don't care what ill effects I suffer.”

“I know.” She closed her eyes very briefly. Bit her lip, as if there were something there, about to jump out. A second later, her eyes opened again, and she drew a shaky breath. “But there are some other side effects—repercussions to what you're planning to do—that you haven't considered, Zach. And I think it's time you did.”

Zach frowned down at her. “Something's bothering you about all of this. I knew that this morning. But, Jane, my son is dying. What else could possibly matter?”

Jane lowered her head, and Zach caught her chin, lifted it, searched her beautiful eyes. “You don't want me to go back. Why, Jane?”

She parted her lips, but closed them again.

“It's all right. I think I know why.” And then, very slowly, he lowered his head, and touched her lips with his. They trembled against his mouth, and the desire he'd felt for her all along came flooding back, swamping him, shaking him to the core. He slipped his arms around her slender waist and pulled her close to him, tight to his body. His mouth fed on hers as her lips parted. A tremulous sigh escaped her, and he inhaled it, relished it, as her arms crept around him. Her hands clasped his shoulders, and she arched against him.

Dazed and aroused beyond reason, Zach lifted his head. “I want you, Jane. I want you to the point of distraction.”

He lifted one hand to thread his fingers in her hair,
while the other remained at the small of her back, holding her tight to him.

“I…” she breathed, and then stiffened, her eyes widening as she stared up at him. “No,” she said softly, and there was no mistaking what he saw in those eyes. It was fear. “No, I won't fall…not again.”

And then she turned and ran from the bedroom. Something compelled Zach to move. He lunged for the door and watched her run down the hall to her own room. Watched her go through the door, closing it hard behind her. And then he heard the gentle sounds of her bedsprings creaking as she lay down. He closed his eyes and told his imagination to behave itself. And while he was at it, he told his heart to go back to sleep, where it had been for the past six years, and to stop yearning for things it could never have.

God, he must be suffering mental, as well as physical, exhaustion for these thoughts to keep creeping in. He needed to sleep.

But not just yet. He had a mission tonight, and nothing, not even Jane and the fearful yearning in her eyes, was going to stop him from accomplishing it.

 

He was not the man she'd been wishing for. Not the father she'd longed for Cody to have and not the man of her dreams. He was a womanizer, dubbed the Don Juan of his time in one of the books she'd read. And even if that was an exaggeration, one fact could not be overlooked. He was going to leave her. Just as Greg had. She would not give in to the feelings
that kept creeping in, like slow-moving waves eroding a sandy shore. She would not let her heart be broken again.

She wouldn't.

And yet she lay awake for hours, wishing that there was some way…

God, she hadn't even told him why he couldn't go ahead with his plan. And even when he realized how impossible it was, he'd still want to go back to his son, to be with him at the end. The thought brought tears to Jane's eyes. He'd hate her for what she had to tell him. Hate her for being the one to make him realize that it was his son's destiny to die, and thereby save countless lives. Hate her. He'd hate her.

And it was going to kill her to see that emotion in his eyes when she told him.

She couldn't sleep. She felt sick to her stomach, and after tossing and turning restlessly she got up, intending to go downstairs, maybe do some pacing, and rehearse the words she would use to deliver the blow that might very well destroy Zachariah Bolton.

She tiptoed down the hall, but when she came to the door of the bedroom where Zach was sleeping, she found her feet wouldn't go any farther. It was stupid. He was asleep by now. No light came from beneath the closed door. But she couldn't go past without at least peeking in, just glancing at him as he lay there, drinking in the sight of him and wishing things could be different.

How had the man managed to get under her skin so thoroughly in so short a time?

She closed her hand around the doorknob, opened it gently. But the bed was empty. She stepped into
the room, snapping on the light, but Zach wasn't there. And a gnawing sensation in the pit of her stomach told her he wasn't anywhere else in the house, either. She had a damned good idea of where he had gone. After she'd expressly told him not to. To Dr. Mulligan's office, a few miles away. Probably on foot.

Jane closed her eyes and pressed her fingertips to her forehead. Damn him. He had no business being out alone, trying to break and enter, in the condition he was in. No business at all. He could collapse in the street, and then what would happen? Suppose he woke up with no memory again and started rambling on about 1897 and Aunt Hattie's credenza? They'd toss him into a mental ward, for God's sake.

She searched the ground floor, all the same, even though she knew full well she wouldn't find him there. Then she paced the living room. She should go after him. She really should. He could be hurt or sick or delirious somewhere. Or in jail. Oh, for heaven's sake, and what was she supposed to say when she found him? How was she going to explain that she'd known he'd gone out? Was she going to confess that she'd been lonely and restless and unable to sleep? Was she going to admit that she'd slipped out of bed and tiptoed down the hallway in the dead of night, and that she'd quietly eased the bedroom door open so that she could look at him as he slept?

No way in hell.

But she couldn't very well leave Cody alone to go after him, either. And she couldn't wake her son up,
or the little mischief-maker would want to go along on Zach's crime spree. He'd want to…

An odd little feeling rippled up her spine and into the back of her neck. A feeling only another mother would understand. Frowning, she tilted her head, narrowed her eyes. Cody…

She hurried up to the guest room where Cody had been sleeping and slipped inside, and then she had what felt distinctly like heart palpitations.

Cody's bed was empty.

 

“Zach, look out!”

Zach dropped to his knees automatically at the harsh whisper. And then he turned, squinting through the darkness at the small body that had landed there beside him. An automobile passed, its headlamps brushing the bushes in front of them with white light, then fading in the distance.

Zach gripped Cody's shoulders, staring into his freckled face in stark disbelief. “What in the name of heaven are you doing here?”

“I followed you, Zach. Thought I could help. Did you get it?”