The Mammoth Book of Time Travel Romance (5 page)

The singer, while no Peter Gabriel, brought a heartfelt yearning to her desire to come back to the place her love was.

“I’m seeing just one problem,” she said.

“Just one?” The rumble of his chuckle tickled her cheek.

“Just one. When I let go of your hand, I’m not going to remember any of this. Not one word.”

“I guess,” he said slowly, “I’m hoping for a miracle.”

“Like the ’22 Pirates?”

“Yeah, but this one, I’m not betting against. In fact, I’ve pretty much put all my chips on it.”

“Well, at least I’ll still have you. Do you think, I mean, is it possible, we’ll fall in love if we change things?”

He was silent so long she lifted her head.

He looked wretched. “We won’t.”

“But it’s possible, right? I mean, anything’s possible, right?”

“Not with us.”

“But if someone can – wait,” she said. “I still have you, don’t I?” Her head spun toward P.J. and back to him. “I still keep you, Patrick, even if I lose Mark. I mean, you’re right there.”

“Kate …”

“Tell me!”

“Think about it. I’m from Boston, which is where I – the younger I – at least at present, am planning to find an assistant professor position. I take the job at Pitt when I graduate for one reason: to be near you. And the only thing that impels me to do that is that I’ve fallen in love with you while you’re dating Mark. No Mark tonight; no P.J. later.” He shook his head sadly. “Dominoes, Kate.”

“But you’re standing right over there. Can’t we just connect?”

But she already knew the answer. As soon as Patrick released her hand and this conversation was wiped from her head, she’d be too drunk on the thought of Mark to take the slightest notice of his pleasant but unremarkable friend.

“Don’t beat yourself up,” he said. “It’s me, too. Look at me over there, for God’s sake. I try to work up the courage to talk to you all night and never do. I have to collect the stupid tuxes, so I’m the last person here. I watch you leave with the final bunch of partygoers. I actually stand in the parking lot and watch Mark get in the car with you. How sad is that?”

She gazed across the nearly empty dance floor, out beyond the ballroom windows. It seemed so unfair. How could she be given such a gift for such a tiny period of time?

“I won’t do it,” she said simply. “I won’t change what happens if it means I lose you.”

He stopped so abruptly she nearly stumbled. “Kate, why do you think I’ve come here? I’m not trying to keep you from some pain. I wouldn’t dare – hell, I wouldn’t need to! You’re one of the strongest women I know. I would have happily stood at your periphery for

the rest of my life as you worked through it. I came because you’re gone, Kate. Kate the woman who lit any room she walked into is gone. And I can’t live with that.” Tears appeared in his eyes. “When it happens, it obliterates you, Kate. It absolutely obliterates you.”

She touched his arm, stunned. “So you’re giving up your own happiness to save me.”

“No courage required, Kate. You’re already gone.” He averted his face and dragged a sleeve across his cheek. “Jesus, look at me.”

She thought he meant his tears until she spotted P.J., who stood at attention, beer forgotten, his eyes cutting between Kate and Patrick.

“Let’s dance,” Patrick said. “He’s afraid you’re in trouble.”

She returned her head to Patrick’s shoulder, navigating the apprehension of a sacrifice so selfless she wondered if she would experience it again in her lifetime. Oh, how she was dreading the end of the song.

The singer had reached the place where, alone and stripped of her pride, she’d reach out with all her heart and hope her love was returned.

“Promise me,” he said huskily.

“What good is a promise,” she cried. “I won’t even remember.”

“It’s the only hope I have.”

What could she say to a man who’d come from half a lifetime away? There was only one choice, and he had earned it. “I promise.”

He took her in his arms as the singer began the last, lingering chorus. She clutched Patrick’s shoulder, trying to absorb enough of him not only to carry her through tonight, but through a lifetime. She could feel the flutter of his breath in her hair. They had not even kissed. She laced her fingers into his.

The keyboardist played the last plaintive chord, which drifted and drifted until it was gone, and the room fell silent.

“That’s it, kid.”

Another moment, she wanted to scream, but she knew he deserved her strength. “Yep.”

“Foosball, Kate!” Carly waved at her from the entrance to the game room. “It’s our turn.”

“Here’s to changing the world,” he said.

He released her waist. Their fingers, intertwined, relaxed. She drew hers down his palm, prolonging that last electric touch. “To changing the world,” she agreed, and he withdrew his palm.

Carly, thank God, was as wired as a dollar-store Christmas tree, for Kate felt like she’d had way too much champagne, though she could only remember drinking two glasses. Nearly every foosball shot taken and every attempt defended was the work of her teammate. The best Kate seemed to be able to do was to keep from stepping on Carly’s train.

She was so muzzy-headed, in fact, she decided she must be seeing things when she spotted that nice man at her table – was his name Patrick? – going through the pockets of the coats on the coat rack. He seemed to find what he was seeking, however, for when she gave him a questioning look he held up a set of keys and smiled. Probably too drunk to find his coat. Drunk at a wedding reception? Imagine that. The next time she looked he was gone.

They won that round and two more, but they lost in the finals to Joe and Mark, who aimed every shot at Kate, sending her into uncharacteristic giggles, which she also blamed on the champagne.

“A gentleman,” she said to him as they were gathering their coats, “would have let the drunk girl win.”

“No one ever accused me of being a gentleman – especially with a drunk girl.”

She laughed. He helped her on with her coat. He had changed into street clothes now, and he was looking great in jeans and a blazer.

“I, ah, don’t suppose you’d be interested in one last glass of wine? There’s a wine bar next door to my hotel that looked kind of interesting.”

There it was, just like she’d been waiting for. She snapped open her purse. A glass of Cabernet on this chilly night. Knees touching at the bar. A pair of strong arms and soft lips.

“You know,” she said. “I think … I think I’ll take a pass.”

He looked surprised. She felt surprised. But something in her head just kept saying no. And she’d been trying to teach herself to listen to that voice. Tonight, it was stronger than it had ever been. She’d make the right choice. No doubt. Nonetheless, when he gave her a goodnight kiss, she felt as if she was making a turn on a street she thought she’d follow the rest of her life.

She fished out her keys, and they made their way out to the parking lot. Mark lassoed a couple of others to join him for a glass. Kate waved as she headed to her car. She heard them drive off. The moon was out, which made the thin layer of snow sparkle. She tried to slip the key into the lock, but it wouldn’t go in. She pulled it out and tried again. Nothing. The lock couldn’t be frozen. It hadn’t snowed in a day, and it was close to forty out. She tried one more time. It wouldn’t budge.

She gazed around the lot. She could walk back to the hotel, she supposed, and try Triple A, but she spotted Mark’s room-mate, ah, ah … She scoured her memory banks. P.J.!
There! I’ve remembered something at least.

“P.J.!”

He had an armload of tuxes, though it looked like he’d been standing just outside the hotel exit.

“Need some help?” He trotted over, transferring the bundle to one arm.

“Yeah, apparently I’m too drunk to get my key to work.”

“Wow. Who knew Subarus offered such hi-tech safety features?”

She laughed.

“You must have the premium model,” he said. “Mine just flashes a light that says, ‘Pull him over, officer.’”

“You have a Subaru?”

“Damn right, sister. Best cars ever.” He dropped the clothes on the trunk and extended his hand for the key.

But he was no more successful than she’d been. He tried the passenger door and the trunk. Nothing budged. Then he fished his keys out of his coat pocket.

“What the hell, right?”

“What the hell is right,” she said. “It’s either that or walk. And I live eight miles from here.”

“Well, I could drive you.” He slipped his key in – and it worked.

“Wow,” she said. “That’s weird. Though now that you mention it …”

“What?”

“I probably shouldn’t drive.”

He chuckled. “C’mon. Where do you live?”

She picked up a handful of tux and started heading towards the only other Subaru in the lot. “South Hills. Mt Lebanon.”

“It’s right on my way.”

“Really? Where do you live?”

“The North Side.”

“That’s nowhere close.”

“Depends how you define ‘on my way’. I have to circle the city three times before I can sleep. I’m very doglike in that way.”

His car was white, just like hers.

“Best colour,” she said, pulling up to the passenger door. “Best colour, best car.”

He leaned down to unlock her side. “What the hell?”

“What?”

“Now my key doesn’t work.” He dropped his armload on the trunk again.

“Well, I suppose we could use your key to drive my car to my house.”

“Give me your keys.”

She put them in his hand.

“Cross your fingers,” he said.

She did. And the door opened. Like magic.

Sandy Blair

One

Edinburgh, Scotland

Present day

How bad could it be?

That was Sarah Colbert’s only thought when Mr Morrow, the leader of their school’s tour group, had announced he was ill and that she, alone, would be taking their unruly crew of sixth graders on their first tour of Edinburgh. Eyeing her five jostling charges in the Hotel Balmoral lobby she now prayed they’d be better behaved than they usually were in class.

Her gaze settled on the tall lanky heir to Elgin Aircraft Industries standing in the back. “Mr Elgin, where’s your windbreaker?”

“Aww, come on, Miss Colbert.”

“Mr Elgin, you know the rules.”

While Peter grumbled and dug inside his backpack for the bright yellow windbreaker each student had to wear on every field trip so their chaperons didn’t lose sight of them, Bryce Allen, the son of movie mogul Mike Allen, cuffed him on the head and started bouncing around like a prize fighter. Not to be outdone, Jeremy Babcock, an investment banker’s prodigy, put his fists up and, laughing, took a swat at both of them.

“Gentlemen, knock it off.”

God grant me patience.
Having been an only child, she’d had little experience dealing with children prior to accepting her teaching position at the London branch of the prestigious American International Schools, and her students, sensing it, regularly ran roughshod over her. But she took comfort where she could. Today would be a trip down memory lane, to that carefree summer when she’d been an exchange student in Edinburgh. And she’d be able to put her hard-earned degree in European history to excellent use.

Seeing Peter had his windbreaker on, she started walking. “This way, gentlemen. We’re off to tour the 140 acres known as Edinburgh’s New Town where at one time the greatest minds on earth could all be found living shoulder to shoulder. Our first stop will be Charlotte Square, named after King George III’s wife and designed by renowned architect Robert Adam.”

Three hours later, having described every nuance of Georgian architecture and the gruesome details related to Edinburgh Castle’s body-laden moat being drained and turned into the lovely garden in which they now stood, Sarah, hoarse and dead on her feet, asked, “Is anyone hungry?”

“Yes!” they all shouted.

Ty Clark III queried no one in particular, “Anyone see a McDonald’s around here?”

Behind him Bryce whispered, “You think the Spaniel will let us order some stout?”

Peter Elgin answered for her, muttering, “Hell, no.”

Sarah sighed. “Watch the profanity, gentlemen.”

A creative lot, her students had code names for all their instructors. Her boss was the Bull. Their headmaster, the Bear. They’d tagged her Spaniel the day she – running late – had shown up at school with her shoulder-length hair curling about her shoulders. She’d never made the mistake again but the moniker had stuck.

Sarah looked about. If memory served there was a nice pub that specialized in fish and chips two blocks west, near the intersection of King’s Stable Road and Lothian Road. All kids like French fries, right? “OK, boys, this way.”