Endless (21 page)

She told Tiffany about her mother, about the ring with the moon symbol that matched the one for the retreat center and about Eben and how they’d followed him to the monastery after he’d made another offer on the music box.

“So that’s where the pictures are from?” Tiffany asked when Jenny was finally finished. “The retreat center?”

“Yeah, except I have no idea what they mean.”

“Have you tried looking online? I could research some stuff for you if you want,” Tiffany offered.

“I tried. I couldn’t find anything about the monastery at all except … ” She stopped, remembering the first time she’d looked up the retreat center online.

“Except what?”

Jenny glanced at her before turning her eyes back to the road. “I found a website, but there was no information or anything, just an address for the retreat center, an e-mail address, and a saying or motto or something, ‘Helping those out of time.’”

Something clicked in her mind as she said it.

“‘Helping those out of time’?” Tiffany repeated. “Do you think it could have something to do with Nikolai?”

“If what Nikolai says is true, if he really traveled through time to get here, maybe the monastery does have something to do with it,” Jenny said, pulling into Tiffany’s driveway.

“I’d say at this point, anything’s possible.”

Jenny put the car in park and turned to Tiffany. “Do you think I’m crazy?”

“No,” Tiffany said. “Just because there are stupid people in the world who will slap a label on you for being different doesn’t mean I will. Give me some credit. There are all kinds of unexplainable things in the world—ghosts, psychics, those knives on the Home Shopping Network that can cut through anything. Why not time travel?”

Jenny smiled. “I can think of a few reasons, but thanks.”

“You sure there’s nothing I can do?”

“Not now, but it means a lot that you asked. I’m going to ask Nikolai about the retreat center and find a way to do some more digging about my mom. I’ll let you know what I find out.”

*

Jenny went home first, relieved to see that her dad wasn’t there yet. She wanted—needed—to see the photograph of her mom and Morgan, just to be sure she wasn’t imagining things.

She parked the car in front of the garage and ran up the stairs two at a time, anxious to spend time with Nikolai before her dad got home. She couldn’t fully explain Nikolai to herself. There was no way she could give her dad a plausible excuse for his sudden presence.

Once in her room, she went right for the dresser. She picked up the photo, bringing it close to her face and focusing on the book in her mother’s hand.

There was no way to be sure. Her mother’s fingers were covering part of the title, but the two words at the end of it were definitely “of Time.”

Jenny stood there, trying to gauge how many books there could be in the world with “of Time” in their title and of those, how likely it was that two of them could end up in her life in such a strange way.

But the thing that bothered her most, the thing that ate at her stomach and made her feel sick, was the possibility that Morgan had lied to her. If her mother really did have something to do with the monastery, Morgan would know. If Morgan hadn’t said anything to Jenny about it, wouldn’t that be what her dad called a lie of omission?

And if Morgan had withheld information about her mom’s history, what else was she hiding?

Jenny stared at the picture a couple minutes more, formulating a plan. Then she set it down and went back to the car, driving it over to Nikolai’s so her dad wouldn’t see it in the driveway and freak when he didn’t find her at home. Then, just to be safe, she texted him saying she was going to hang out at Tiffany’s for a couple of hours and would be home by midnight.

She felt bad about the lie. She’d been lying more than usual, but until now they’d all been spur-of-the-moment lies, told because she felt she had no other choice.

This was different. Selfish. A lie told just so she could be with Nikolai.

He was standing on the porch when she got out of the car. The moon, almost full, hung heavy in the sky. Fireflies danced in the woods that surrounded the clearing, the chirping of cicadas a soft lullaby in the background. The air was surprisingly chilly for summer, an insistent wind blowing through the trees.

“Hello, Jenny,” Nikolai said as she approached the porch. Even the simple greeting seemed careful, and she wondered if it took effort for him to not call her Maria.

“Hello.” She stopped at the foot of the stairs. “Is it alright that I came?”

He reached out a hand. She took it, and they met halfway on the stairs. She was still one step below him when he pulled her against him. It didn’t seem strange or sudden or forward.

It felt right. Like the only place in the world she truly belonged.

She inhaled the bitter, musky scent of pine trees in the smooth cotton of his T-shirt. His body was lithe but strong against hers, his arms a barricade against the world and all its painful truths. They stood like that for a long minute, not speaking.

When he finally pulled away, he took her hand and led her silently into the house, through the foyer and into the front parlor. Her painting still hung on the wall over the fireplace. A gentle fire crackled below it, though the floor-to-ceiling windows stood open, sheer, pristine draperies billowing in the faint breeze rising from outside.

“Let’s sit.” He pulled her to a sofa near the fireplace.

He didn’t let go of her hand as she sat down.

She ran her free hand over the soft, taupe suede. “When did you get a couch?”

“Today, actually. I picked out a few things to make the house more comfortable while I’m here.”

She scanned the room, noticing a small table with a lamp at one end of the sofa and a blanket-covered mattress on the floor in the corner.

“Nice,” she said. “But you know there are real bedrooms upstairs, right?”

He smiled, but Jenny caught a flash of sadness in it. “This will do.” They sat in silence for a minute before he spoke again. “I wondered if you would come back.”

“I told you I would,” she said softly.

His eyes didn’t leave hers. “I was afraid you would change your mind.”

“I don’t think I could change my mind now if I wanted to.” She realized how true it was. “For the first time, I feel like things make sense. Like
I
make sense.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know how to explain it,” she started. “I feel like everything before was a dream. Like I was missing a part of myself and didn’t even know it.”

He lifted her hand to his mouth, kissing her palm. It was such a simple gesture, but a rush of desire, somehow both new and entirely familiar, moved through her.

“It’s like that sometimes for people who have had traumatic experiences in their past life. It’s hard to move on, to belong, in one place when you have unresolved business in another.”

It hadn’t occurred to her that there was a reason for her discomfort with almost everyone she knew, with school and her dad and her life. Now she couldn’t help wondering about all the people she knew who didn’t quite fit. The ones who were depressed or angry or bitter for no apparent reason. Did they have unresolved past-life issues, too?

“So what’s the answer?” she asked, trying to keep her mind off his nearness, the energy from his body seeming to stretch toward her like a lightning bolt. “Will being with you now—knowing the truth—put it all to rest? All the sadness and loss of Maria and Nikolai?”

A shadow passed over his green eyes. “It’s not that simple.”

“What do you mean?”

He removed his hand from hers and rubbed his palms nervously on his jeans. “I’m not supposed to be here. It breaks all the rules.”

“There are rules?”

“Yes, and consequences for breaking them.”

“What consequences?”

“Let’s just say there are those who will try to restore things to their proper order.”

“Who?” she asked. “I mean, you said your mother sent you forward, right? So who else even knows you’re here? Wait a minute … ” The retreat center, the stained glass panels, Nikolai’s traveling through time to be with her. “Are you talking about the people at the retreat center? The monks who live up on the mountain?”

He stood, walking to the fireplace. “Those aren’t monks, Jenny. Not the way you mean.”

“Then who are they?”

“The Order.”

“The Order?” she repeated. “The order of what?”

Nikolai picked up a poker from the tools to the left of the fireplace. He prodded the burning wood as he continued. “Time travel is as old as the planet. People were doing it, falling into portals by accident when the conditions were right, long before anyone knew what they were doing. The Order has been there all along, time wardens tasked with keeping everyone in their proper time and place.” He turned to face her. “And I’m out of time.”

“‘Helping those out of time’ … ” she murmured.

His laugh was bitter. “I suppose that depends on your idea of help.”

Jenny stood, crossing the room to stand in front of him. “Are you saying they’ll send you back?”

“They can’t force me back, but they will try to … coerce me. And if I don’t go, they’ll send me to the bardo instead.”

“The bardo?”

“It’s an … in-between place. A place where the soul is suspended. I can either voluntarily go back to my own time or the Order will send me to the bardo, unable to be reborn.” He reached out to touch her cheek, like that would keep him connected to her. “Unable to find you in this life or another.”

They’d only just found each other again. It was all new. She was still figuring it out, still figuring out the place she and Nikolai might have in each other’s lives. But she knew they were meant to be together. That Nikolai had cheated death to find her again.

“I don’t have much time,” he said reluctantly.

“But … you just got here.”

“And that’s probably why they haven’t figured out exactly where I am, though they undoubtedly know I’m somewhere in the vicinity.”

“How would they know?” She thought about Tiffany, wondering if she’d been right to tell her everything. Maybe Nikolai’s presence wasn’t her secret to tell.

“People out of time give off a different energy,” Nikolai explained. “It’s like an out-of-place sound, a distant siren on the wind, and time wardens are trained to listen for it.”

“What do we do?” she asked.

Nikolai considered before answering. “Well, I can stay and hope to avoid detection for a while longer, but that gets more and more dangerous over the next couple of days.”

“Why?”

“The portals are only active at midnight during a full moon. If the Order finds me, they’ll want me to go back—or to send me to the bardo—during the next one.”

Jenny’s eyes were pulled to the window. “But it’s almost full now.”

He nodded. “In two more days.”

“So that’s it? You find me only to have to go back again?”

“There might be another way,” he said slowly. “A way for me to stay.”

“What way?”

“In the Book of Time there are—”

“Wait a minute. What did you just say?”

“I said in the Book of Time—”

“What’s the Book of Time?”

“It’s a map of all the ley lines—all the portals—on the planet. But my mother said it’s also rumored to contain something else.”

“What else?” She asked the question, trying to tune out the drumbeat in her head.

Book of Time, Book of Time, Book … of Time.

“An exception. The components necessary for a traveler to remain out of time without banishment to the bardo.”

“I think my mother might have had it,” she said quietly.

“Had what?”

“The Book of Time.”

“Why would your mother have the Book of Time?”

She explained it—the photograph of her mom and Morgan with the all-too-familiar bell tower in the background, the book in her mother’s hands, the stained glass panels at the retreat center. She even told him about Ben and the music box, about the Order’s interest in it.

“You don’t think your mom was one of them?” Nikolai asked when she was done.

“I honestly don’t know. If you’d asked me that a week ago I would have laughed, but everything’s changed. I’m not sure of anything anymore.”

“Can you ask Morgan?”

Jenny thought about it, imagined herself going to Morgan and demanding to be told the truth. But what if she were wrong? What if Morgan had a reasonable explanation for Jenny’s suspicions? Jenny would have accused her for nothing. She didn’t want that kind of distrust between them. Not until she was sure.

“I could ask her,” Jenny admitted. “But there’s something I’d like to do first.”

“What is it?”

“Everything starts with that photograph. If I’m right and the bell tower in the background is from the retreat center and not Marist, Morgan’s lies start there. Maybe I could call and see if she and my mom really went there, if they’re listed as alumni.”

Nikolai shook his head. “They’re not going to give that kind of information to just anybody. Is there some other way you could find out?”

Jenny thought about school. About records and transcripts … and yearbooks.

“What about an old yearbook? Do you think the university library would have them?”

“I don’t know,” Nikolai said. “But it can’t be that difficult to find out.”

*

They talked awhile longer, finally agreeing on a plan. It was almost midnight when Nikolai walked her out.

“So … I guess you’re too old-fashioned to have a cell phone?” she said.

He chuckled softly, pulling one from the pocket of his jeans. “I’ve been here quite awhile now. The culture of this time is as much a part of my life as it is yours.”

They exchanged phone numbers, and Jenny pushed her phone back into the pocket of her shorts. Nikolai leaned against her car, and she stepped into his arms like she’d done it a thousand times before.

“Call or text me or whatever,” she said, looking up at him. “You know, if you want to.”

He pulled her closer. “I want to.”

They stood there, silent and still, for a long time. A knot of irrational fear formed in Jenny’s stomach at the thought of saying goodbye. She told herself she was being stupid. They’d only just met. She’d been without him before, for years and years.