Endless (24 page)

Jenny approached an older man at the front desk. His hair was silver, his eyes a bright and lively blue behind black-rimmed glasses. He wore a sweater vest and bow tie.

“May I help you?” he asked quietly.

“We have an appointment at one o’clock,” Jenny said. “Jenny Kramer.”

He typed something into the computer, consulted the screen, and asked them both for ID. Jenny handed over her driver’s license. Nikolai did the same. Jenny was surprised to see that his license was issued from Maine.

The man photocopied both licenses and handed them back. Then he reached behind him, pulled something off the printer, and came around to where Jenny and Nikolai were standing.

“Follow me.” He led them through a room full of tables, people sitting here and there with their heads bowed to books and documents. “Have a seat. I’ll be back.”

They sat down. Jenny looked around, wondering what everyone else was looking at. Probably something more serious than old yearbooks. Some of them even had gloves on.

The man returned a couple of minutes later with a box. He set it on the table and took off the lid.

“I’ll be back for you in an hour. Or you can come to the front with the box if you’re ready to leave before then.”

“Thank you,” Jenny said.

She waited for him to leave before turning her attention to the contents of the box. The piece of paper he’d pulled off the printer was on top, and she saw that it was a printout of the books she’d requested. She set it aside and pulled out six heavy volumes bound in red leather.

They were identical except for the dates, executed in a blocky navy font and ranging from 1988 to 1992. She passed 1988 and 1989 to Nikolai.

“Want to take those two while I take the other three? Then we can switch to make sure neither of us missed anything?”

He nodded, taking the books. “What am I looking for?”

“Check the index for Abigail Howell first, but go through the class listings, too, just in case.”

“Got it.” He leaned forward in his chair, opening one of the volumes.

Jenny did the same, starting with 1990. She flipped to the back, but there was no Abigail Howell. She went through the book page by page anyway, looking at every name under every caption, even combing the pictures themselves to see if a photo of her mom would jump out at her from a football game or campus event.

Coming to the last page, she closed the book, glancing at her phone. Damn. It had taken a full twenty minutes to get through the first book. She’d have to move faster if she wanted to get through them all.

She reached for 1991 and glanced at Nikolai. He was intent on the book in front of him, though flipping through the pages a lot faster than Jenny.

She got to work, repeating the same process she’d used with the first book but trying to move as quickly as possible. She didn’t allow herself to linger over any one picture, desperately hoping to see her mother, preferably with Morgan. Instead, she checked for the names, scanned the images, and moved on.

By the time Jenny finished with all three yearbook, they only had fifteen more minutes left of their appointment time with in Special Collections. She looked up to see Nikolai, already finished and studying her intently. His smile seemed to hold a secret and she wondered what he’d been thinking about while he looked at her.

“You done?” she asked quietly.

He nodded. “I didn’t find anything.”

She sighed. “Me, either, but let’s switch anyway just to double check.”

She pushed her three books toward him and took the two he’d been working on. This time she moved faster, both because she’d honed the process and because she knew they were almost out of time. She was still looking at the pictures in the last book when the man from the front desk came to retrieve them.

“Time’s up,” he said quietly. “Did you get everything you needed?”

“Yes, thank you,” Jenny said. She closed the book, reaching for the others and stacking them chronologically before placing them back in the box.

The man checked the titles on the printout against the books in the box before closing the lid.

“I’ll show you out,” he said.

Jenny followed him with Nikolai on her heels. Her heart sank a little more with every step as the truth sank in: Morgan had lied to her. And not just once.

Over and over and over again.

She was hardly aware of the man saying goodbye when they reached the front of Special Collections. She and Nikolai were halfway to the door when she thought of something.

She turned around. “Excuse me?”

The man who had helped them, already on his way back behind the desk, turned around. “Is there something else?”

“Yes,” Jenny said. “I was just … well, I wondering if there’s a bell tower anywhere on campus?”

The man raised a graying eyebrow. “A bell tower?”

“Yeah, you know, like the ones they have in old churches?”

The man thought about it. “Not to my knowledge. There are only three original buildings left on campus, and none of them have a tower. There is a church, but it’s newer.” His eyes lit up as he remembered something. “There is a cross at the top, though.”

Jenny’s nod was slow. “Thank you.”

Nikolai must have sensed her distress. He took her hand and led her out of the area.

He didn’t say anything as the elevator glided upward to the main floor. He just held her hand, rubbing his thumb along her skin like he had in the car. She tried to focus on the rhythm of it. Tried to block out the implications of what she’d learned.

By the time the elevator doors opened, her chest was starting to feel tight, her throat constricted. She rushed for the door, stepping outside and gulping in big breaths of fresh air as she stumbled toward the stone terrace outside the library.

She felt Nikolai’s hand on her back. “Are you alright?” he asked softly.

“None of it’s true,” she choked out, looking at the water in the distance. “None of it.”

He stepped to her side and pulled her into his arms.

*

He didn’t say anything for a long time as they headed home to Connecticut. She was glad. She didn’t need someone to try and make her feel better. To tell her there must be some kind of explanation when it was obvious what it was: Morgan had lied, plain and simple.

Jenny had trusted her. Had trusted her like a mother. Had been grateful for every detail Morgan divulged about her mother. She had been stupid, naive, to take everything at face value. She should have assumed that with all the secrecy surrounding her mother, Morgan would have a few secrets of her own.

They’d been driving for about an hour when Nikolai spoke. “Do you think your mother had the book? The Book of Time?”

“I don’t know,” Jenny said. “But I’m going to find out.”

“How will you do that?”

“I’m going to confront Morgan. I’m going to tell her I know she’s been lying and I know my mom had the book. She owes me the truth.”

“Jenny … ” Nikolai’s voice was low. When Jenny turned to look at him, his forehead was creased with worry.

“What?”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea. Not yet.”

“Why not?”

“What if she’s a member of the Order? What if she and your mother were both members?”

“What if they were? Even more of a reason to know.”

“It could put you in danger, Jenny.”

She looked at him with surprise. “Me? Why would I be in danger? You said they were in charge of time, right? Well, I’m not out of time. I was born and raised in Stony Creek.”

He didn’t say anything for a minute. She watched his face, eyes too intent on the road.

“What?” she asked. “What’s wrong?”

“If your mother was a member of the Order, you are out of time, in a way,” he said.

“What do you mean?”

“Members of the Order are forbidden from having children in a time other than their own.”

“Well, that’s … stupid. Why wouldn’t they be able to have children?”

“Think about it: most members of the Order are out of time themselves, sent to this time and place from others to keep order. If they have children while they’re here, well … not only would they be out of time, but that child would be out of time as well.”

Jenny shook her head, trying to grasp what Nikolai was saying. “But even if my mother was out of time, this
is
my time. There’s no place else—no other time—they can send me.”

“And I’m not saying they would. I’m only saying that it must not happen often, a member of the Order leaving behind a child in the mortal world. I’d be willing to bet the Order knows all about you. They’ve probably been watching you all these years to see if you exhibit any special powers.”

She thought of the car from the retreat center, easing past the parking lot at Books, following her and Ben into the city. Maybe they weren’t looking for information on Nikolai or the music box.

Maybe they were after her.

“If Morgan’s still a member of the Order,” Nikolai continued, “bringing everything you know to her attention could change everything. And not just for the short term.”

“Well, you know what? It’s time for everything to change, starting with me getting the truth instead of the lies Morgan’s been feeding me my whole life.” Her words came out angrier than she intended.

“I understand,” Nikolai said. “I just think you should give it some consideration. Don’t make a decision about Morgan now when you’re upset and angry.”

She crossed her arms over her chest and turned her head to the window, not wanting to face the truth in what he said. Not wanting to live with the lies for one more day.

“I don’t want you to be mad at me, Jenny,” he said softly. “I’m only trying to protect you.”

“I know,” she said, fighting an unreasonable wave of anger.

He reached for her hand, and she tried to ground herself in the solid feel of it against her own.

This is real
, she told herself.
Everything else might be a lie. But this is real.

*

The closer they got to home, the more it looked like rain. Clouds that before had been white and fluffy darkened, turned gray around the edges and moved in to block out the sun.

They were pulling off the highway when the first raindrops hit the windshield. A moment later, thunder rattled the sky, and the sky seemed to open, the rain pouring from above like a waterfall.

By the time they pulled into Nikolai’s driveway, they were in the midst of a full-fledged summer storm. Nikolai drove to the back of the property and through the open carriage house doors, a sudden silence descending as the rain stopped pelting the roof of the car.

They got out, standing at the edge of the carriage house. It was hard to see the house. The rain fell in almost-solid sheets, casting everything in a blurry, gray haze.

“I guess we’ll have to make a run for it,” Nikolai said.

Jenny shrugged. “It’s only water.”

“Right.” Nikolai didn’t sound too convinced. “You ready?”

“Yep.”

They left the cover of the carriage house at the same time, running for the back door of the house. Jenny was immediately soaked through. Nikolai pulled the keys from his pocket as they ran up the back steps. Jenny bounced up and down, getting wetter by the second, until he found the right one.

He opened the door, ushering her in before taking shelter himself. He closed the door behind him. They stood in the silent house, almost in shock. Then they both started laughing. They laughed until Jenny was bent over, water dripping into a puddle on the floor under her body.

Finally, still out of breath, Nikolai looked down at his body, the white shirt, now transparent and stuck to his muscled chest, his jeans conforming to his thighs like a second skin.

He stepped away from her. “Stay right there.”

She heard him rummaging around. When he returned, he was holding out a towel.

“Dry off. I’ll start a fire.”

She started with her hair, following Nikolai to the front parlor while she worked the towel down her body. He headed for the fireplace, crumpled up some newspaper, and laid a couple pieces of wood on top before striking a match. The fire crackled to life, the smell of burning wood filling the air.

He made his way back to her, brushing off his hands. “Sorry about that. I should have brought an umbrella. I didn’t know it was going to rain.”

“Me, either.” She was captivated by the rivulets of water dripping from his hair, tracing a path down his neck and disappearing beneath the fabric of his shirt.

He gently took the towel from her hands, using a corner of it to wipe the side of her face. “You should go sit by the fire. It’ll warm you up.” His voice was gruff, his eyes locked with hers.

“Don’t be silly,” she said. “You’re soaked. Let me help you.”

She peeled off her ivory gloves, setting them on the arm of the sofa. Then she reached for the buttons on his shirt, wondering who this girl was, the one who didn’t think twice about helping a guy undress by the light of the fire. Who didn’t feel awkward peeling the wet shirt from his skin and slipping it from his shoulders.

She draped his shirt over a chair near the window. Her hands were shaking, not from nervousness or embarrassment, but because she wanted to touch him so badly.

The desire was so strong her body trembled as she walked back to him. She took the towel from his hands and ran it across his smooth skin, hearing his breath catch in his throat. He reached out and grabbed her wrist. His grip was gentle but firm, his voice slightly pained when he spoke.

“Jenny … ”

“Is it hard for you to call me that? To see me as Jenny and not Maria?” she whispered.

He looked into her eyes. “Maria, Jenny … we’ve been together before, probably many times. We belong together, whatever names we use. Besides,” he cupped her cheek in his hand, “the soul is eternal. I see in you sparks of the Maria I knew—in your painting and the ferocity of your love for the people closest to you.”

She dropped her eyes. “Is that why you have feelings for me? Because I’m still so much like Maria?”

He lifted her chin so that she was forced to meet his eyes. “You didn’t let me finish, which is a quality unique to Jenny.” His eyes twinkled with humor. “Like your determination and the beautiful eyes that are so different from Maria’s lovely brown ones.” He hesitated. “Don’t you see? You’re like a favorite painting. A found masterpiece, loved both for things remembered and those newly discovered.”