Time's Enemy: A Romantic Time Travel Adventure (Saturn Society Book 1) (33 page)

He set the box on the handmade wooden table. Two upturned barrel halves served as chairs. A metal tackle box rested in the front corner, along with a pair of fishing poles, a rusty shovel, and a straw broom. An ancient, wood-burning stove hulked in one back corner, and in the opposite one, the bed.

One bed. Little more than a low box containing a bumpy mattress, probably straw-filled. Charlotte would sleep there. Alone, Tony told himself. But with or without her in it, the bed looked inviting after driving most of the night.

He realized the tenseness that had gripped him for most of the ride was gone. As tricky as it had been to locate the place with the benefit of Dewey’s hastily-scrawled map, the likelihood of the Society tracking them down was slim.

He unpacked the cans of food, sliding them onto a shelf by the stove. “What if they go through property records and find this place belongs to your brother?”

“They won’t. Technically, it belongs to his in-laws, so there’s no direct connection. It’ll be the perfect place to hide until you start to feel...” She slowed in her unpacking.

“The pull.”

“Yes.” Her voice sounded strained. “By then, Caruthers will have concluded we’re not in Dayton anymore, so we can go home and you can jump from there.”

“What about Pippin? Won’t he be ticked at you for helping me?”

“I’ll... talk to him. Hopefully...” She ran her finger around the edge of a can she’d just unpacked. “I’ll make him understand. He won’t let them hurt me.” She reached up to put the can away.

“You don’t sound too sure.”

She paused, her hand halfway to the shelf, and set the can back on the table. “I’m not. But it’s the best I can hope for. He’ll be hurt and angry, but Theodore loves me.” Tony stopped mid-stride, his shoulders drew back. “Not like that,” she said. “More like a prized student. Or the daughter he never had.” She put the tomatoes on the shelf, then the remaining can of corn.

She regarded the canned goods, hands on her hips. “Well! I don’t know about you, but I’m famished.” Her voice held a false lightness. “Let’s get some dinner started.”

“Sounds good to me.” Relieved at the change of subject, Tony walked to the stove and grabbed the axe. The wood bin beside it was empty. “Looks like we’ll need some wood. I’ll see what I can chop up.”

He found a dead tree not far behind the cabin. Before long, he’d worked up a sweat. Had chopping wood been so hard when he was in the Boy Scouts? He couldn’t remember. Then again, he’d had the other guys and a scoutmaster working with him.

He stopped, whipped off his shirt and blotted his forehead with it. Boy, was he out of shape. The cut on his side had split open and was bleeding again, though it only stung a little. Movement from the corner of the cabin caught his eye. Charlotte leaned against the cabin’s back wall, a bemused smile on her face. “Having trouble?”

“No.” He gritted his teeth and swung the axe.

Charlotte collected the wood he’d already chopped. Relief slid over him when she disappeared around the corner with it. Using a heavy tool would be safer without the distraction.

How would they occupy their days without the restaurant? No radio, no newspapers. Not even the chessboard or her projects. Nothing but each other’s company.

He hoped to God it didn’t rain. If the weather trapped them indoors, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to keep his hands off her—

Like hell.
He swung the axe harder than he needed, and splinters flew from the wood. They were both adults. He wasn’t nineteen, he could control himself. If nothing else, he’d spend the week with the worst case of blue balls he’d had since he was in college.

He forced his attention to the downed tree, made himself focus on where to make the next cut. Before he knew it, he’d chopped the tree into pieces, and it lay in a neat pile.

He grabbed his shirt and wiped his forehead again, the muscles in his shoulders already protesting. Without a lawn to mow and yard work to do, he’d forgotten how cathartic physical labor could be—especially the kind where he didn’t have to think too much.

Charlotte had a fire going in the circle of stones in front of the cabin by the time he brought her the rest of the wood. “It’s nice out, and the stove will make it too warm inside,” she explained.

“That’s cool.” He dropped the wood, then draped his shirt over the pump and pulled his undershirt off. “Man, I haven’t worked like that in a long time. I’m going to go take a dip in—”

Charlotte gasped.

“What’s wro— oh, this.”

Her gaze lit on the backward L-shaped scar in the middle of his chest, then darted up to his neck for a brief second before she looked away. “I’m sorry, I’m being terribly rude.”

“It’s okay.” He dropped the undershirt on the pump and sat on the cabin’s front step. “Happened in Mexico. After I- after the first time I went back in time.”

She sat beside him. “Where—or rather, when—did you go?”

Tony cracked a wry smile. She sounded like Everly. “Back to before the Europeans came, when the natives actually used the temples. I’d say over a thousand years.”

“A millennium? Mercy!” She clapped a hand to her breast. “My word, I didn’t know anyone could go back that far. Though I’ve heard it’s easier in locales with a great deal of inherent spiritual energy. The power that must’ve taken... how long did you need to sleep off the jump?”

“I never had a chance. They killed me before I went into recovery.”

She listened in rapt attention as he told her about his experience with the ancient Mayans.

“Good Lord, that’s horrifying! It makes my first jumps tame in comparison.”

She reached out and trailed a finger over the scar on his chest. He didn’t move. He almost forgot to breathe. Shivers shot through him. Were they from the terrifying memories, or her touch?

Charlotte slowly shook her head. “You’ve been through so much.”

Tony forced himself to speak. “Yeah, it’s incredible how we heal if we get hurt in the past...” The words stopped, forgotten, as she slid her hand around his side to his back and pulled him close.

Unable to stop himself, he wrapped his arm around her, crushing her against him. Her lips parted, and he slid his other hand around the back of her neck. She tilted her head back and closed her eyes as he leaned down to capture her mouth with his.

He never wanted to stop kissing her. Never wanted to stop touching her. Her body pressed against his was a salve for all his wounds, physical and otherwise. He ran his hand down her back, wanted to slip his hand between the buttons of her dress, wished it didn’t fasten so tightly. Her skin would be softer than the smoothest silk. He wanted to feel for himself, to touch it, to rub her all over. He ran his hand over her dress, up and down her back and to her side. As if of a mind of its own, his hand moved closer to where she pressed against his chest, and cupped her smooth, round breast. She trembled and pulled back from his kiss enough to let out a tiny sigh.

Tony pulled his hand away.

“Don’t,” she said.

“You want me to stop?”

“No,” she whispered. “Don’t stop.”

He slid his other hand off her back and stood. “I think I’d better, or... I might not be able to.” He studied the fire, the woods, the sky, anything but her.

But it had been so long.
Come on man, time to get back on the horse,
he heard in Bernie’s voice.

“We can’t do this,” Tony said. “It’s not right.”
Sorry, Bernie.
“I’ll only be here a few more days, then...”

She looked down, but not enough to hide the flush in her face. “You’re right, of course. I- I guess I’ll start dinner.”

“What can I do to help?”

“I can take care of it.” She rose, slipped inside the cabin and returned with a cigarette.

Tony didn’t look away quickly enough to avoid seeing her lush, red lips close around the cigarette, lips he’d been kissing a moment ago, lips he desperately wanted to kiss again, before he moved on to other places—

He grabbed his shirt off the pump. “I’m going to the river.” The closest he could get to a cold shower.

A cold dunk in the river wasn’t enough to get his mind off Charlotte, so after his bath, he hiked downriver to the dam site. When he finally returned, Charlotte sat perched on the cabin’s front stoop. Only the bowl of stew in her lap stopped him from scooping her into his arms, and it was an effort to merely sit beside her after he served himself from the pot on the campfire.

He tried to concentrate on the delicious beef stew instead of the press of her hip against his. “This is awesome. Even my mom’s isn’t this good.”

Her answering smile chased away the lingering awkwardness. “We get a lot of compliments on it at the restaurant.” Her mirth dissipated. “Or did.” She stared into the campfire.

The bite of stew solidified in Tony’s mouth.
Did.
Because he’d gotten her fired. They’d talked about it in the car. She’d insisted Tony had done the right thing, had thanked him for defending her honor, but he still felt guilty. His so-called defense had cost her her livelihood.

She dropped her spoon into her bowl with a clank. “Tony... don’t. I told you, I hated that job. I’ll find another. It will be all right.”

He met her gaze, then took another bite. Jobs weren’t easy to come by in these times. He ate the rest of his stew in silence, then remained on the stoop while she ate a second bowl.

She ladled the soup into her mouth with gusto, yet managed to look ladylike. He realized it was one of the things he liked about her—no comments about how she’d have to do an extra hour on the treadmill, or how the second helping would go right to her hips. Charlotte enjoyed food for the pure pleasure of it.

She caught him staring. “Penny for your thoughts?”

I want you, God, do I want you.
But instead he said, “My thoughts are worth more than that aren’t they?”

“A nickel, then. Perhaps even a dime.” She smiled, the same flirty smile she’d given him that first day at the restaurant.

He pushed his lustful thoughts aside.
Can’t go there.
Not when he’d be gone within a week, never to see her again.

It was time to get the answers she’d promised him. He placed his bowl on the ground. “What do I have to do to warp within my own lifetime?”

Her cheer vanished. She set her dishes beside his, her movements sluggish, as if he were watching on a slow motion video. “Why do you want to?” she asked in a quiet voice.

His jaw tightened. This time he wouldn’t let her distract him. “You told me you’d answer my questions.” She’d promised him answers, he was going to get them.

She looked at the smoldering campfire. The flames had died down, and a thin plume of smoke rose from the glowing red core of a big log. “You said you’d done it once before.”

“Unintentionally.”

“Where were you when you... warped?” The big log popped, and she flinched.

“You’re not answering my question.”

“I’m trying to explain—”

“I was sitting in the family room with my wife, watching TV. Tele—”

“Your wife? I thought you were divorced.” Her eyes darted to his bare left hand.

“I am. But I wasn’t then. Not until after I went back.”

“You changed something.” She clutched her skirt.

Tony snorted. “Yeah, you could say that.”

“Wh- what happened? If you don’t mind my asking.”

Lisa had pressed him to talk about it many times, but he’d steered her away. Didn’t want her analysis or advice, and he sure as hell didn’t want to hear about the ass-kissing Charlie’d done to save their marriage.

But he wanted to tell Charlotte. She’d listen without telling him he needed to get a life. “I was supposed to go out of town that day,” he said. “For business. Only I didn’t know what was going on, so I missed my flight. And when I got home...”

A big smudge on the right side of his glasses marred his view of the fire’s embers. He snatched the glasses off, whipped out his shirttail and rubbed them, then slowly slid them back on. Much better. “I walked inside, and there my wife was with my sister’s husband, on the living room couch.”

A vertical crease formed between Charlotte’s eyebrows. “You caught them in the act?”

“Just about.”

“Mercy, how awful!” She lay her hand on his arm. “I can’t imagine.” She turned to him, her voice flat. “And now you want to go back and make it not happen—”

“No.”

Charlotte drew back and tilted her head.

“Dora and I were already too far gone. We never were right for each other.” Time for some answers before she got off the subject, distracted him again. “How did I do it? How did I go back like that? I’ve gone back a century, no problem. But two or three years...”

She rose and grabbed a long stick, then poked at the logs with it until the fire blazed anew. Smoothing her skirt, she returned to the stoop. “After your jump, when you went back two years. After the dizzy spell and such, where were you?”

“I was in the family room...” His jaw went slack. In the same room. The same chair. He’d been in the same place—before, and after the jump. Could it be that simple?

“You ended up in the exact physical location as before you jumped, correct?”

“Yes.”

“There is your answer.” She retrieved their dishes as she stood. He started to ask her to elaborate—how close did he have to be to the physical space he’d occupied at the time he wanted to warp? Within several inches? A few feet? Millimeters?—but she’d already walked away.

At the hand pump he filled the big wash tub, then put it on the fire to heat. In silence, they washed the dishes.

He sneaked glances at her while they worked. Twice he caught her doing the same.

What had he done wrong? Was his question so horrible?

Her face held a firm, don’t-mess-with-me resolve. He’d never find out if he waited for her to speak first.

“Why are you—” He started to say “upset” but caught himself. He knew her well enough to know she’d deny it.

“What?” she said.

“Quiet. Why are you so quiet?” Finished stacking the dishes, he took his place on the step again.

“Nothing to say.”

“I find that hard to believe. In the whole week I’ve known you—”