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
Stepping Back
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.