Time's Enemy: A Romantic Time Travel Adventure (Saturn Society Book 1) (28 page)

She couldn’t think such things. Especially about an Enemy of Time. A man she needed to convince to go to the Society House and turn himself in.

Later.
First, she’d at least fix dinner. It would hardly be civil to send him to Theodore on an empty stomach.

S
OMEONE KNOCKED ON THE DOOR.
Charlotte jumped. Elmer! Heavens, she’d forgotten all about their plans.

She didn’t want Elmer there. Didn’t want to go out with him. She was having a far better time playing chess with Tony.

Of course, if she’d done what she should have, she’d welcome an evening at the movies with Elmer to get her mind off Tony, who would be at the Society House.

There was something about him, something she hadn’t noticed as a little girl. His attentiveness, beyond rescuing and caring for her. His willingness to answer her endless questions, his—

The knock came again. Unable to delay any longer, she jumped to answer it.

Elmer brushed past her, crackling of paper. “Here.” He thrust a cone-shaped bundle of newspaper at her, then dropped his hat on a chair back.

Charlotte took the flowers and gave the mixed bouquet inside a deep whiff. “Oh, they’re lovely.”

“Thought you might like— he’s still here?” Elmer’s lips drew back from his teeth like a feral dog’s.

Charlotte looked at Tony, then Elmer, who continued to glare at Tony. “Elmer! Tony is my boarder.” Tony approached, and she made a hasty introduction.

She fumbled for the chain beneath her collar. The men sized each other up until Tony extended his hand. “Nice to meet you.”

Elmer’s face tightened, but he reciprocated. “Well,” he said to Charlotte. “We’d best be going if we’re to make the show on time.” His narrowed gaze slid toward Tony. His lip twitched. “It isn’t right. Living with a man who’s not your husband—”

“I told you. He’s a boarder,” Charlotte repeated. “A
paying
boarder. And he saved—”

“Even if he did save your life, he should go to a hotel—”

“Which I was going to do,” Tony said. Charlotte’s brows drew together. “But she drives a hard bargain,” he added.

Elmer went on as if Tony wasn’t there. “There are rooms aplenty at the Miami, the Gibbons, the Biltmore. I’ll pay you the money you’d get from him for the board—”

“You’ll do no such thing!” Charlotte put her hands on her hips. “You’re far from wealthy yourself. I’ll—”

“You’ll what? You hardly have money to pay your rent.”

Charlotte’s jaw clenched. Elmer didn’t know how true those words were. He shot another glance at Tony, then grabbed her arm and propelled her onto the front porch.

He gazed out at the street, as if he wanted to avoid looking at her. “I was going to wait until I managed to save some money, to get you something nice, but...”

Dread lanced down Charlotte’s throat. She swallowed.

“If you’re having trouble making ends meet, we could get married. Move into my house. Then—”

“But I like my house.”

“Mine’s bigger.”

“But I have so many things! I can’t just pick up and move...” Her projects. He wouldn’t be willing to move all that junk, as he’d called it once.

But if she did marry him...

She could have a family. No children of her own, her liaisons with Louie had confirmed she was unable. But Elmer came from a large family and had nieces and nephews, many of whom were quite fond of him. Their house would seldom be quiet.

And though Elmer didn’t have a lot, she wouldn’t have to worry about money.

But her work...

Pride swelled in her at the things she planned to do, ways she wanted to contribute to the betterment of society. Once that happened, money wouldn’t be a problem. But the thought of spending her life with Elmer...

“It’s too soon.” She couldn’t do it. “I’m not ready for this.”

“Why the blazes not? I’ve been calling on you for almost two months. That’s time enough.”

Charlotte stared at the porch floor. Its gray paint was beginning to peel.

Elmer was a good man. He’d be good for her, provided she managed to sneak her project time in. Maybe the magic wasn’t there. It didn’t always happen right away. But he was right. She should have some idea by now. She lifted her head. “Elmer... I can’t marry you.”

Elmer drew back. “You’re being hasty. I’ll fetch my hat and we’ll go to the show. Take some time to think about it.” He whirled around, threw open the front door and strode inside, Charlotte on his heels. Elmer eyed Tony, who’d taken a sudden interest in the magazines lying on the coffee table.

Elmer slapped his hat on his head. “Regardless of what you choose, he should be gone before we return. Either he goes...” He crossed his arms over his chest. “Or I do.”

A burn blossomed beneath Charlotte’s ribs. Elmer had never ordered her around like that. The hairs on the back of her neck rose, then receded into a comforting warmth when Tony appeared a few feet behind her. His presence strengthened her resolve. She couldn’t marry Elmer. Not now. Not ever.

Maybe being commanded like a soldier was all right for some women. But if she let him do it this time, it would continue, and the next thing she knew, she’d be nothing more than his puppet. She might as well forget about her work.

“Well?” Elmer said.

She squared her shoulders. “Enjoy the show, Elmer.”

Elmer stood with his mouth agape. “Uh, uh...” Without another word, he whirled around and stomped out the door.

After a moment, Charlotte burst out laughing. “I do declare, the look on his face was priceless.”

Tony joined in her mirth. “Yeah... new clothes—fifty dollars. Party dress for your girl—twenty-five dollars. Seeing her now-ex-boyfriend look like Beavis and Butthead... priceless!” They laughed until Charlotte sank into the couch, wiping her eyes.

“Tony? What’s Beavis and... Butt—?”

Tony snorted back a final guffaw. “Never mind.” He made his way back to the sofa and sat beside her, then half-rose as if he’d committed some kind of faux pas. But something in her face must’ve told him it was all right, for he sank into the cushions. He eyed her as if to ask, now what?

Her better judgment told her to move to the rocker. Or go to the kitchen, fix a cup of tea, do anything but place herself in danger of physical contact.

Physical contact she shouldn’t want, but couldn’t make herself stop hoping for.

Tony was everything Elmer wasn’t. Educated, funny, entertaining, full of interesting stories. Wonderful to look at with his odd hairstyle that stuck up all over, combined with the studious appeal lent by his glasses. No doubt, his lovely blue eyes made the ladies in his workplace swoon.

Tony couldn’t be her fellow. Not when the pull would yank him back to his own time in a couple weeks, maybe sooner. And Good Lord, he was in the Saturn Society’s Black Book. Her only concern should be to get him to the Society House and let Theodore kill him and return him to his own time.

Despite her logic, her fanny remained planted on the sofa. She tried to concentrate on the radio.

Tony sensed her tension. If he said something to her now, it would only make her more nervous, so he reached for the magazine he’d feigned interest in earlier, a copy of
Time
with Charles Kettering on the cover.

Tony brushed his hand over it in amazement. To think, Kettering was still alive. Again the enormity of what Tony had done hit him, and he almost dropped the magazine.

He pawed through the other magazines on the coffee table. A few other issues of
Time
.
Amazing Stories
. Two
Life
s, complete with Rockwell-esque cover art.

He slid the Time from April—the latest one—over on the table, then placed the March issue atop it, then February, then January, the one featuring Kettering. As he reached for the
Life
magazines, quiet laughter stayed his hand.

“Tony? What on earth are you doing?”

“Uh, just tidying up.” God, he was such a dweeb. He shoved the magazines into an unordered stack and sat back on the sofa.

Charlotte regarded him with a smile, not a making-fun one, but more... bemused appreciation?

Tony’s hand itched to reach for hers on the cushion between them. Had she scooted closer?

Better not. Bad idea. But the perfect time to ask his questions. “Charlotte?”

“Yes?” Her golden gaze penetrated his soul. He wanted to tell her everything. About Chad Everly. About his trip two years into his own past, and his resulting divorce. About Dewey. And most of all, about Bethany.

Best to lead up to it gradually. “This time travel thing... What about the grandfather paradox?”

She drew back and blinked. “You mean if you go back in time and kill your grandfather?”

“Yeah. What happens? Do you suddenly cease to exist?” Most of the more scientific web sites he’d perused focused on time travel to the future, where the paradox wouldn’t be an issue, but the science-fiction-oriented sites had raised a very real concern.

“Of course not. That’s the stuff of the science fiction pulps.” She nodded at the magazines on the coffee table, where he’d left a copy of
Amazing Stories
on top. “An intriguing conundrum, but it simply can’t be done. Some have tried, but something always prevents the commission of the murder.”

“I see.”

Her voice took on a slight raise in pitch. “Goodness, I need a cigarette.” She jumped up and grabbed one from her purse, then returned to the sofa.

Tony lost his train of thought when her lips closed around the cigarette, caressed it as she took a puff, and left the end stained pink when she pulled it away. A fierce urge to kiss those lips struck him. He wanted to fold her into his arms, pull her against him.

Are you out of your mind?

She flicked her cigarette on the ashtray on the end table, obscuring the hand-painted “Florida” and beach scene in the middle. He’d found it in his room when he woke, on the floor next to the bed. Had she sat beside him, smoking as she watched him sleep? A vague memory stirred of his first brief awakening in her house. She’d leaned over him, brushed back his hair. Or had he imagined it?

Charlotte fidgeted, as if she could read his thoughts. He had to get the conversation back on track. “Okay, I can go along with your can’t-be-done theory. But what if, say for example, you influence the past so your parents never meet?”

“I imagine that, too, would be impossible. Circumstances would prevent it, somehow or other. Some things are simply fated to be.” She brought her hand to her neckline, and toyed with a chain hidden beneath the fabric. “Only God, or the universe, or whatever higher power you believe in, knows what should be and what shouldn’t. It’s not for us to decide.”

Her gaze lowered as she absently drew her finger around the chain. Only the radio and the hum of crickets outside broke the silence. Was Bethany’s death fated to be?

He wouldn’t believe it. Just ideological bullshit. Sure, God, the universe, or whatever might transpire to prevent a paradox, but he couldn’t see where his daughter’s death could be fate. A child killed—especially violently—wasn’t fate, it was a couple of creeps preying on the innocent, and Bethany’s own bad choice that had put her in their path. A choice Tony could change, angry words he wouldn’t say—

Charlotte lifted her cigarette again.

Time to get the answer he came for. “Have you ever warped within your own lifetime?”

She paused with the cigarette halfway to her mouth, then slowly lay it in the ashtray. “A couple of times. Have you?”

Did her voice have a slight tremor in it?

“Once, I went back two years. I wouldn’t mind doing it again, but I can’t figure out how. Obviously I’m missing something—”

She burst out laughing, but her hand shook as she stubbed out her cigarette. “I do declare, this is hilarious!” She scooched closer to Tony, but stared at the radio.

What had gotten into her? He started to repeat his question, but she held a finger to her lip, then laughed again at the radio show host.

Tony clamped his mouth shut, then something rubbed his leg. He looked down. Her hip brushed against him.

Holy shit, was she coming on to him? Willpower fled. Bad idea or not, his arm slid behind her back, as if it had a mind of its own. The silky fabric of her dress burned into his fingertips.

She relaxed against his arm, and an arrow of excitement shot up his body. He should scoot away. But it had been so long since he’d touched a woman. So long since he’d even wanted to. It wouldn’t hurt.
Just this once.

Her face held a pink tinge that hadn’t been there earlier. “Tony?” Her hand moved to her collar, then dropped lower and fumbled at her neckline. “Why did you come here?”

The question snapped his attention back to what he should be doing. And what he shouldn’t. “Well...” He slipped his arm off her and smoothed his pants over his thighs.

“Of course I’m glad you did,” she said. “But why now? Why not... later in 1913? Or 1920? Or some other year?”

“I didn’t know where you lived then. The records are... sketchy.” He took his glasses off, held them up to the light.

Her brows dipped. “But why did you come at all?”

He pulled out a shirttail and rubbed one of the lenses. Slowly, deliberately. Why did he have to be such a lousy liar? He slid the glasses back on and met her gaze. “I was curious, wanted to find out what’d become of you. Why?”