Mine Tomorrow (3 page)

“God, you’re beautiful. Even more beautiful than I remembered.”

The remark, said with such vehemence, left her flattered if a bit envious. He had memories of her, where as the only memories Devin had of him were from her dreams. Dreams such as this one. Except…

Suddenly, images of the two of them together, smiling and laughing, drifted into focus in her mind. She’d been wearing this very dress, holding a small bouquet of flowers. He’d been clad in uniform again, a white rosebud pinned to his lapel. Just as she’d known his name earlier, now she was certain this foggy memory—if that was what it could be called—was of their wedding day.

“The courthouse,” she murmured. A judge had performed the simple civil ceremony.

I now pronounce you man and wife…

“Devin? Are you all right?”

She rubbed her temple. “This is crazy.”

“The world does seem to have gone mad,” he agreed on a shaky laugh as he glanced around the square.

“Have we?”

If Gregory found her question strange, he answered it nonetheless. “Maybe. Do you care?”

“Right now? No.”

He smiled. “Neither do I.”

“It’s a dream,” she reminded herself again. A very detailed one from which she was in no hurry to wake.

“The best one I’ve ever had, because you’re here.”

Come back to me.

The words from the letter echoed in her head, joining the ones he spoke now. After her last breakup, she’d given up hope of ever meeting a man such as this. Never had she felt this way—as if she were the center of someone’s universe.

More shouting erupted. Whoops of joy ensued.

“What on earth is going on?” she asked.

“You don’t know?”

“I haven’t a clue,” she replied honestly. “I was at the shop when…all of this started.”

“The war. It’s officially over.”

Devin turned in a circle, taking in the scene. No wonder everything had seemed so familiar. She’d seen it before, or rather witnessed it secondhand via black-and-white photographs that had been published in books and magazines.

V-J Day.

Times Square was the spot where the iconic shot of a sailor kissing a nurse was taken after the victory over Japan was announced. Sure enough, she spied the young man several yards away in the square with the pretty nurse bent backward over his arm.

Devin was reliving history.

Chapter Four

Reliving it?

No. She was dreaming about it.

Devin chided herself for thinking, even momentarily, that the scene was real. If her being here was real, then
everything
was real. And that included Gregory Prescott. As much as she might wish to find herself married to a man such as this one, to her profound regret, she knew that was impossible. It was 1945 in her dream, but when she woke up, it would be 2014, and the only things that would remain tangible would be the period clothing that seemed to have started all of this nonsense.

Regardless, that left her with a bit of a dilemma:
Now what was she supposed to do?
Since her dream had never reached this point, Devin wasn’t sure what would happen next.

“Are you ready to go?”

“No!” She didn’t want to leave him.

Of course, that wasn’t what Gregory meant. His brows tugged together. “You want to stay…here…in Times Square?”

Devin had no desire to remain among the jostling crowd, so she shook her head and asked, “Where do you want to go?”

Her heart skipped a couple of beats when Gregory replied, “Home.”

It was the word she used in reference to her tiny apartment, although it had never felt quite as fitting a description as it did when he said it now. The word evoked memories not of her childhood abode, nor even of a physical place, but of a sense of belonging that she craved, although she had no idea how deeply until just then.

His intense gaze told her exactly what he had in mind once they reached their destination. Desire. Hunger. Need. The kind of possession that gave as much as it took. And why not? He was a sailor recently returned from sea, a husband returning to his wife after a long absence. Meanwhile, she was a woman who hadn’t had sex in a year. Even then, it had been unexceptional to the point of being disappointing.

It always was.

Never had Devin experienced the fireworks that her friends talked about, which had caused her to wonder if maybe something was wrong with her. One look at Gregory, however, and such concerns evaporated. If the way he kissed was any indication, she figured she was in store for a fireworks display worthy of the Fourth of July.

But as eager as she was to be alone with him, she had worried over her younger sister’s welfare for so long that it was second nature to do so now.

“I should call the shop and let Emily know…” Devin began before she remembered there was no need to touch base with her sibling in a dream.

“Emily?” he asked.

“She’s my…my sister.”

“I didn’t realize…” He rubbed a hand along his jaw. “That is to say, she and I never had the chance to meet. It was such a rushed affair.”

“Our…our wedding?”

“Our wedding, our courtship, our engagement…everything. Were you staying with her? Is that where you’ve been these past few months?”

The note found at the sale came to mind.
Come back to me.

Before she could answer, Gregory shook his head. “It doesn’t matter, Devin. Nothing else matters except that you’re here now.”

Perhaps nothing else mattered, but she couldn’t quash the feeling that something was off.

He was saying, “What is this shop that you say you should call?”

A shop that would not exist in 1945, so it made no sense to mention Yesterday’s Closet to him.

“A clothing store I know.”

“And your sister works there, I take it.” He took her hand and they started to walk.

“Yes, a few mornings a week.” Since it was so easy to talk about Emily, she added proudly, “She attends college full time on a scholarship.”

“Impressive. Did you work while I was away?”

“I have a job,” Devin replied, not sure what verb tense was called for in a dream that was taking place more than half a century in the past.

“You never mentioned it in your letters, but then there hadn’t been any since, well, I was reassigned to another ship.”

She glanced over sharply. It wasn’t accusation she saw in his expression, but sadness, contrition even, when he added, “I tried to get a letter out right away, to reassure you I was fine after the attack, but mail was spotty at that point.”

What attack? More important than satisfying her curiosity, however, was the need to soothe his conscience. “It’s forgotten.”

“The past is the past?” His smile was hopeful.

“Yes.” Well, sort of. She fought the urge to rub her temple. The past was the present for her, at least in this dream.

“You can ring your sister when we get home, if you’d like. The phone in our apartment is out of order, but there is one in the lobby. I’m sure Dan will let you use it.”

She nodded and they continued on their way.

Devin wasn’t paying close attention to where they were heading. She was too busy enjoying the sensation of their clasped hands and the passing scenery. Although it was seventy years ago, New York was in many ways the same. Time hadn’t changed the landmarks, a lot of which predated even the turn of the twentieth century. But the automobiles streaming past on Broadway were all what Devin thought of as vintage models—hulking sedans with curved fenders, inflated hoods and rounded headlights.

Devin’s obsession with the time period helped her recognize some of the vehicles, but mostly it was the pedestrians bustling along the sidewalks who caught her notice. Never had she seen so much 1940s fashion in one place.

Once they were well away from the crowded square, Gregory stepped off the curb and hailed a cab. The inside of the vehicle smelled of smoke and pastrami, probably because the driver was eating a sandwich while the stump of a cigar burned in the ashtray.

“Where to?” the man asked.

Gregory rattled off an address that sounded vaguely familiar. It wasn’t until they reached the brownstone, though, that Devin realized where they were—it was the building where she had attended the estate sale mere days ago. A detail plucked from her subconscious, she reminded herself even as her skin prickled.

The lobby bore the same black and white marble floor. Likewise, the light fixture, a no-frills pendant that predated even this time period, was the same. The paint color, however, was different, a neutral shade of off-white rather than the mossy green it had been on her prior visit, and the slipper chairs in the tiny alcove beyond the door had a decidedly art deco vibe.

“Mrs. Prescott!” the doorman cried in surprise. “You’re back!” He sobered then and his face flushed crimson. “What I mean to say is ‘welcome home.’ Welcome home to both of you!”

Why, she wondered, was the older man more surprised to see her than he was her husband? Gregory, after all, was the one who’d just returned after a long absence.

But she offered a tentative smile and said, “Thank you.”

“Were there any deliveries while I was out?” Gregory asked.

“Yes, sir. The young man from Milt’s Market came by an hour ago with a couple of boxes of groceries. I took the liberty of letting him into the apartment and seeing that everything perishable was put away.”

“Thank you, Dan.”

Dan nodded. “It wouldn’t take long for food to spoil in this heat.”

“You went grocery shopping?” Devin asked quietly as she followed Gregory up the stairs.

“When I got in yesterday, there was nothing to eat. Nothing…that hadn’t spoiled.”

Once again, his tone held more sadness than accusation. She’d hurt him, Devin realized. Wounded him as surely and severely as a round fired from the enemy’s turret. Had she really left him? Was that why he’d asked if she’d been staying with her sister? If she had left him, why?

When they reached the second floor, he stopped at the first door in the hall. Devin wasn’t surprised to find it was the apartment where the estate sale had been held. He unlocked the door, but before she could enter, Gregory turned and scooped her up in his arms.

“I know I already did this once,” he told her.

Maybe it was just wishful thinking, but she could almost recall that other time he spoke of, almost feel the sensation of his arms cradling her body against his chest as he carried her over the threshold on…

“Our wedding day,” she murmured.

He nodded. “Today is a brand new start for us, as well.”

Devin swallowed around the lump that had formed in her throat. Even if she didn’t know what had happened between them, his words touched a place deep inside.

Once they were inside the foyer, Gregory returned her to her feet. Where the building’s lobby had been recognizable despite having undergone obvious cosmetic changes over the years, the interior of the apartment was almost exactly the same as it had been when she’d walked through it the day of the sale. In the living room, the same pair of club chairs bracketed the fireplace, over which hung the ornately framed landscape painting that had sported a hand-lettered SOLD! sign on one corner. The camelback sofa was the same, too, although its muted damask upholstery appeared brand new.

To satisfy her curiosity, she took the overcoat that was still draped over his arm.

“Let me just hang this up,” she said, opening the very closet from which she had taken it in real life mere days earlier.

This time, the closet didn’t smell of mothballs. Rather than being largely empty, the top shelf was full of hat boxes and a man’s herringbone-print overcoat hung inside. She ran her hand over the soft wool. She didn’t recall seeing that the day of the sale. If she had, she would have purchased it, as well. When she turned, Gregory was watching her.

She smiled and, berating herself for feeling so self-conscious, asked, “Are you…are you hungry?”

Laughter, low and masculine, greeted her question.

“That depends on the kind of hungry you mean, Devin.”

He reached for her hand and drew her to him. Their bodies bumped together. She settled her hands on his chest. Under her palms, she felt the beating of his heart. It was far from steady, yet its irregular rhythm was completely in synch with hers.

In real life, Devin probably would have ignored the very obvious signals he was sending and headed to the kitchen anyway. Once there, she would have rousted up a sandwich or heated a can of soup, all the while making painfully polite small talk. The date would end on a strained note with her suitor promising to call, even as both of them knew he never would.

Frigid. A tease.
She’d been called both, to her face. Some men were a little more polite, of course, but that only left her to imagine what they said over a few beers with their buddies.

Well, dreams were the perfect venue to let go and take risks. Safely tucked inside her subconscious, she didn’t have to agonize over making any mistakes. She didn’t have to worry about being a disappointment or, for that matter, being disappointed.

Feeling both empowered and exhilarated, she nuzzled Gregory’s neck.

“I know exactly what you need to satisfy your hunger.”

In the blink of an eye, his gaze turned from heated to molten. “Show me.”

“Happy to,” she murmured and took his hand.

From the estate sale, Devin recalled that the master bedroom was at the end of the hall. No words were necessary as she led him to it. Along the way, they passed two smaller bedrooms. The doors to both were open. She spared each a peek inside. On her last visit, the first had been a study, complete with built-in shelving and the large desk that had a secret compartment where the letter was found. The desk was there, but otherwise, except for a few boxes, it was empty. The second one had no furniture, only more unopened boxes. Had they been moving? Or had she been moving out?

Such questions were forgotten as soon as they reached the master and Gregory pulled her into his arms. The mirror over the bureau showed lovers in an embrace.

Devin barely recognized herself in the woman reflected. Her makeup was different. Well-defined ruby lips. Eyelids lightly lined in black. She hadn’t sported bangs since grade school, but here her coffee-colored hair was curled under high on forehead, and the rest was pulled back into a chignon at the nape of her neck. The jaunty hat with the blue feathers was still perched on her head. It went with the dress, she realized.