The Mammoth Book of Time Travel Romance (12 page)

“But why?”

“I want you to have it. All of it. It’s no good to me. George doesn’t need it or want it. It’s yours.”

Her throat squeezed. “No. You’ll need it, for when this ends.”

“Kara, this is never going to end.” He kissed her and banished her will to argue.

Battling his better judgment, Jake let Kara pull him into the bedroom, let her tear off his clothes and watched with heat as she removed hers. He let her press hot kisses into his chest, into his belly, let her grasp and stroke him. How could something that felt so good be the cause of so much future pain – for them both?

Crazy with desire, he found the strength to pull away, panting, aching, heart shredding.

“What’s the matter?” She reached for him. “Jake.”

He forced his gaze away. “This is wrong.”

She tugged on his shoulder to pull him around. “Wrong? It isn’t the sixties any more, you know. I want this. I want you.” Her back stiffened. “Or do you still see me as a kid?”

He cupped her face with his hand, hating that he’d caused the hurt in her eyes. “Kara, I’ve never wanted a woman more.” He dropped his hand. “That’s the problem.”

“I don’t get it.”

“I’ll be gone in the morning. It’s not fair.”

“You idiot.” She smiled as she placed her hand on his chest. “I get to decide what’s fair for me. I seduced you, remember?”

He looked into her questioning eyes, even more disappointed and angry than Kara. How could he possibly explain something he barely wanted to admit to himself?

He turned from her. “If we make love, it’ll kill me.”

She gasped. “What haven’t you told me? Will you get sent to the Ice Age or something? What’s happened the other times you’ve had sex?”

He turned to face her and the look in her eyes constricted his chest. “If I make love to you, my life will be unbearable.” Bad enough now. He couldn’t face jumping from year to year with such a huge piece of his heart ripped out and left behind, with knowing she existed on some different plane in time, inaccessible. Torture.

She crossed her arms over her luscious body, still glowing pink with arousal.

He sat on the edge of the bed, closed his eyes.

She joined him and her hand landed softly on his back. “I’m sorry. I’ve been so focused on the thought of having to wait at least a year to see you again. I didn’t even think how it might affect you. That for you it might be longer. Or the next time you see me, it might not be 2010. I’m so selfish.”

“No, I’m the one who’s selfish.” He dropped his lips to her hair and inhaled the sweet scent. “The next time I see you, you’ll have moved on. I can’t take that.”

“Not a chance.”

“Kara, it could be another fifteen years. It could be never. I couldn’t bear to think you’d live your life hoping to see me at best once a year. If we make love—” He dropped his head.

She slid back on the bed and slipped under the covers. “You win. I get it. Just let me hold you.” Her arms reached for him.

His heart nearly ripped from his chest and he joined her under the covers. They wrapped their arms around each other and she drew one leg over his thigh. He felt safe, at home.

She rubbed her cheek on his chest. “I love holding you.”

“I love it, too.”

He loved
her.
But knew saying it, or loving her, would make everything worse.

Her heartbeat penetrated his body as they clung together like hurricane victims. A hurricane would be a lesser threat. He’d never felt such happiness, such sadness. The duelling emotions overwhelmed his senses.

“Maybe if I hold hard enough I can keep you here.” She pressed her lips against his chin.

He smiled. “That’s a nice thought.”

“I’m serious. You kept my necklace – and nothing else – over thousands of jumps through time. That must mean something.”

He kissed her nose. He wanted to believe it, too. He really did. Holding on to the necklace couldn’t have been a coincidence. It was almost as if fate had pulled him through time since their first meeting. Pulled him to a year when Kara was single and ready to meet him again as an adult, ready to save him, ready to make this all stop.

But thoughts like that only bred pain. The hope he’d felt on first finding her necklace added to his pockets’ inventory had drained away over hundreds of jumps, drawing with it his will to live. This time would be worse.

She stifled a yawn. “Promise me one thing?”

“If I can.”

“Promise me if we’re lucky enough to find each other again …” Her voice was growing softer, her words slowing. “Promise me that the next time you land in another year I’m alive, you’ll make love to me. Even if I’m ninety.”

“I don’t know.” He grinned. “Ninety?”

“You had your crack at twenty-nine tonight, buddy. You blew it.” She playfully pulled on his chest hair. “Now promise.”

“Only if you promise to live your life as if I don’t exist. Yo u can’t wait for me.”

“OK.” Her breath warmed his neck.

He’d make sure he didn’t live to break his side of the promise.

They held each other without speaking, and soon Kara’s breathing deepened, her body caving to the sleep it needed. He pressed his lips into her hair and watched the clock’s blue numbers glowing in the darkness. A digital clock, she’d called it.

She was right about one thing, he’d be crazy not to hold her for every last minute he possibly could. He would not fall asleep. He’d stay awake and watch the minutes flash by with her in his arms.

Although the impending dawn would force him back into that hideous suit and dump him into the park in some other century, he was going to stay conscious, anchored to her and this time as long as possible.

He’d tried staying awake many times before. Hadn’t worked. Neither had hopping a freight train to Florida.

Maybe tonight. Maybe if he stayed awake he’d remain here. Hope pierced the deep sadness filling his heart.

Two thirty-seven.

Three fifty-five.

Four fifty-six. Dawn was too close.

His eyes blinked open, heart racing.

Four fifty-eight. He’d missed a whole minute.

He held one eye open. Just over an hour left. No way would he fall asleep now.

Jake woke with bright sunlight against closed eyelids. Strange. Usually someone or something woke him before the sun got so high.

He ran his hand forwards to feel the surface. Ground or bench?

Cotton sheet?

He bolted upright and spun. “Kara?” He was in her apartment, but where was she?

Oh, Lord. What had he done? What if she were now travelling across the centuries in his place?

His heart pounded, and pain flooded every pore in his body. No. No. No.

“Coffee?”

He looked up. Kara was standing in the door to the bedroom, his hideous suit jacket over her otherwise naked body.

Joy rushed over him and in one leap he had her in his arms. “Is this real?”

She held up a newspaper to show him the date: April 18, 2009.

“How? Why?” Without giving her an instant to answer, he kissed her. Nothing had ever felt so right.

Even if he’d never know the answer to how, he knew why.

Why was because he belonged here. Belonged in this place, in this time. Belonged with her.

Kara pulled her lips away, took his hand and drew him towards the bed. “Listen, mister, lots of time to ponder the secrets of the universe. Right now, I plan to cash in on that promise.”

Sara Mackenzie

1905

Victoria, Australia

She lifted her long skirt away from her riding boots with one hand, and stepped up on to the mounting block. Her horse waited patiently as she settled herself on the side saddle.

Helen glanced up at the sky.

It would be a fine day, one of those crisp, clear autumn days, perfect for riding. And she desperately needed to clear her head, to decide what she was going to do. What had seemed impossible only weeks ago was now dangerous reality.

She could not remain here.

But if she was to save herself then she must plan carefully, she must choose her moment, and she must not make any mistakes.

She set off at a slow trot along the lane that passed between the paddocks, soon increasing to a gallop. The chill wind whipped away any lingering doubts, crystallizing her determination.

“ Tomorrow we will leave this place,” she told her horse. “ Tomorrow we will go.”

2010

Sunrise turned the dry, brown land gold and for a moment there was beauty in the valley. Claire sipped her coffee and squinted her eyes against the light, watching as the shifting sun touched the roof of Niall McEwen’s homestead. Now that the water in the reservoir was so low, the old homestead was completely exposed, although still unreachable. A deep moat kept the curious at bay.

Claire hadn’t slept at all well. Once she used to fall into darkness every night, her dreams barely more than a surface ripple. Now instead there were vivid images in her head, nightmares, sending her tossing and turning, struggling upwards to wakefulness. And wondering if they really were just dreams, or memories of the past she couldn’t remember.

Last night, as she forced back the smothering folds of sleep, the usual doubts crowding about her, Claire had heard the dog barking. Sharp jarring barks that had her peering from the windows. The sound was coming from the reservoir, but just as she thought she had pinpointed it, the barking moved on. And then vanished altogether.

Claire had not felt this unsettled since she woke up in hospital four years ago. That had been like being reborn, painfully. Apart from the physical injuries, there had been no identification on her and she could not remember who she was or where she had come from. One of the doctors had a daughter called Claire and so the patient had become known as Claire too, and Claire she remained.

Claire tried not to think about the past. The hospital seemed to think that some trauma had befallen her and her previous life had been stolen – severed like a falling climber’s rope – so there was no point in longing for it. Either it would return when it was ready, or it wouldn’t.

Besides, this was her home now, she told herself firmly. The house above the reservoir, and the newspaper where she worked, and her friend Gabe. Before didn’t matter.

Now, as though to underscore the point, Claire stood up and tipped the remains of her coffee over the verandah railing on to the long-suffering roses.

The drought had been going forever and most of her garden was dead, but the roses persisted. Maybe it was their morning dose of caffeine that did it, she thought, with a smile.

She lifted her face and allowed the sun to bathe it. The air was already hot and dry, taking all the moisture. Summer was stretching into autumn and there was still no sign of a let-up. After five years of drought people were beginning to wonder if it would ever rain again. The town had been carting in water for months, and the reservoir was down to puddles. Unheard of in living memory.

Again, Claire narrowed her eyes at the view in front of her, and reminded herself she should take some photos for the
Bugle
– the local newspaper, and her employer. The homestead had not been visible like this since the valley was first flooded in 1910. Some years it had come close, but this was by far the most exposed it had ever been.

Every morning, sitting on her verandah, looking out over the reservoir, every morning watching the waters recede, as the homestead slowly revealed its secrets.

She’d begun to dread stepping out of her house. There was a curious sensation in her stomach, a tangled skein of fear and longing, that made no sense. And as the waters receded, the nightmares had definitely got worse.

Now it felt as if she were waiting. As if each passing day was another day ticked off on her way to … something.

But if she were waiting, she didn’t understand why.

Or maybe it was simply that she couldn’t remember.

The waiting seemed endless as the evening dragged on. All she wanted to do was go to bed and lie there, awaiting midnight. And then he made some excuse to come into her private parlour, eyes everywhere, threatening her by his very presence.

“You’re mine,” he said. “I don’t care what anyone else thinks, we both know the truth.”

“Go away.” And then, her voice shaking, “Please.”

He smiled then, knowing he had her measure. But he didn’t know about her plan, and thank God for it. Because if he knew then he’d stop her. She wouldn’t put any evil past him. And he’d already told her that if he couldn’t have her then no one could.

Work was much the same as it always was. Today it was Claire’s job to write up the sport section. It was Gabe’s newspaper now, but it used to be his grandfather’s, and everything was still done in the same old-fashioned way.