Barreling down the streets were opulent cars that couldn’t have looked more different from the twenty-first-century models Michele was used to, from a turquoise, white-roofed Cadillac to a brown open Buick that resembled a stagecoach. The men driving were dressed in wide-lapelled suits, patterned neckties, and brimmed hats, while the women seated beside them wore puffed-sleeve blouses with small asymmetrical hats, their hair styled in short, blunt curls framing their faces. An antique yellow bus zoomed past, bearing a movie poster. Cecil B. DeMille’s Cleopatra, starring Claudette Colbert! Don’t miss the cinematic masterpiece of 1934! Overhead, the elevated railroad rattled and puffed along tracks above Seventh Avenue.
It’s 1934, Michele thought in awe. I’m in 1934!
A new sound now overrode the others—a piano, coming from one of the second-story front windows of the Osborne. The musician was playing with a passion and skill that Michele had heard from only one other person in her life. The piece was one she knew well: Serenade.
Michele stared up at the window, her whole body trembling. Is it really him? And then she saw the outline of his face through the windowpane, his eyes closed in concentration as he played, tendrils of dark hair falling over his forehead.
“PHILIP!” Michele cried. He shouldn’t have been able to hear her, not when her voice was nearly drowned out by a truck’s blaring horn. But he turned, his face frozen, as if doubting what he had heard. Then he saw her, jumping up and down on the sidewalk across the street, and his face broke into an astonished smile. She found herself running to him, scaling the fire escape to his window. Just like Tony and Maria, she thought with a joyful laugh.
Philip threw open the window and climbed out, his eyes welling with tears as he looked at her. For a moment he just stared, blinking rapidly as if trying to prove to himself that what he was seeing was real—that Michele was back. As she gazed at him, Michele felt the same nostalgic ache in her stomach that she remembered from the only other time she had seen him all grown-up, in 1944—the last time they saw each other. But he would have no idea about that meeting now. It was in his future.
“Michele,” he whispered.
In an instant she was in his arms. She nestled her head against his shoulder, breathing in his familiar scent that was like a balm to her frayed nerves. But Philip gently pulled away from their embrace, his expression heartbroken.
“I wish you had come back sooner,” he said quietly. “I grew up.”
“I know. If I had any control over this, I never would have left 1910. I would have stayed with you the whole time.” Michele shakily sat down on the top step of the fire escape and Philip joined her. As they looked at each other, Michele thought that his face was almost the same as when he was a teenager, but there were lines around his eyes now. Although nearing middle age, he was as handsome as before, looking like a classic matinee idol in his drape suit.
“All these years have gone by since I saw you last and now here you are just the same.” Philip’s voice broke. “Where have you been keeping yourself all this time? What have your days held? Have you been happy? I want to know everything. You’re the question that has haunted me, that I’ve wondered about every day since I was eighteen.”
Michele reached for his hand. “I wish I had the right answers. What’s been an eternity for you has been no time at all for me. I’m just the same girl you knew in 1910, no different. You’re the one who has grown and changed. I want to know everything about you. Are you … are you happy?”
Philip gave her a tremulous smile. “Well, I’ve kept my promise. I’ve done well with my music, thanks to you. I’m motivated by wanting you to have something left of me in your world.”
Michele blinked back tears. “I’m so proud of you—of everything you’ve become. And ... you kept your other promise, didn’t you? You found a way back to me. Only you don’t seem to remember.”
Philip sat up straighter, letting go of her hand. “What do you mean?”
For a moment Michele wondered if she shouldn’t have said anything, if she might change the present by telling him about it in the past, but it was too late. She had to know for certain if he and the new Philip were one and the same, and why he didn’t remember her.
“Yesterday you showed up in my time—at my school,” Michele revealed, watching as Philip’s jaw dropped. “You looked the same as you did when we first met, when you were eighteen. You were even wearing the same signet ring. But for some reason, you didn’t remember me. And again today, you were spending time with another girl and looking at me like I was just another one of your classmates, no one special.” The tears Michele had been holding back trickled down her cheeks. “How is any of this possible?”
Philip gripped his chest, staring at her in shock. “I—I don’t understand. You’re saying that my younger self went into the future? How could that happen without me remembering it?”
“It all sounds so crazy, I know. But he has your face, your voice, your ring; he even lives in this building! Everything about him is just like you … except for the way he is with me.” Michele wiped her eyes.
Philip was silent for a moment, and when he spoke again his voice was filled with wonder. “When I was younger, after you first left, I would while away days just dreaming of another life with you. I’d imagine that I was another person, born in your time, and that we could be together in every sense of the word. Do you think—could I have actually made that happen?”
“I wish there was a way we could find out.” An idea occurred to her. “Do you have anything … anything I can give to the new Philip, like a clue? Something to help him remember?”
Philip thought for a long moment. “I’ll be right back.” Climbing in through the window, he gathered some papers off his grand piano and returned to her on the fire escape. “This is the song I was working on when I saw you outside. I only have a chorus and a bridge, no verse yet. Give this sheet music to him, and then the two of you can finish it. This is the way to remind him of us, and of who he used to be.” He gave her an emotional smile. “After all, writing music together is how we fell in love.”
Michele felt her heart constrict at his words. She took the sheet music, holding it close to her. “What if this new you isn’t a musician?”
He grinned, and for a moment Michele could see the teenager in him again. “He will be. There’s no way any version of me can exist without my music.”
Michele smiled back at him. But there was something more she needed to say, and her expression turned serious.
“Philip, I need you to do something for me. Please—whatever you do, stay away from Rebecca Windsor.”
His eyebrows rose. “Violet’s aunt?” he asked in bemusement. “I haven’t seen her in ages. Why?”
Michele hesitated.
“You can tell me.”
She took a shaky breath. “There’s no easy way to say this. Rebecca can time travel too, and—she wants me dead. She’s come into the future, into my time. And today I saw her, like a ghost, watching the new Philip Walker in a way that made me think she has something against you too. So please, don’t give her the chance to want to hurt him—you. Whatever you do, stay away from her.”
Philip’s face was ashen.
“Why? Why does she want to hurt you?”
“That’s what I’m trying to figure out. I only know that it has something to do with my father.”
Philip swallowed hard, and when he looked at her his face was filled with despair. “I can’t stand being helpless—knowing you’re in danger and there’s nothing I can do, that I’m dead in the ground in your time, unable to do anything to protect you.”
At that moment Michele felt Time begin its pull on her body. Her stomach lurched, longing for just another few moments with him.
“You are helping me. Just by staying away from Rebecca, you could be helping me more than we both know. I’m being sent back to my time, but—I love you, Philip. At any age, in any body, in any era … I love you.”
“I love you!” Philip called, watching as the wind lifted her off the fire escape. “I will do anything I can from here in the past to keep you safe.”
Moments later, she found herself back on the twenty-first-century sidewalk in front of the Osborne, surrounded by familiar modern smells and sights. Her eyes remained on the second-story front window, which was now empty. And then a figure drifted by, that of the present teenage Philip Walker.
Michele was just about to race into the lobby and up the stairs to show him the sheet music, when she saw another person beside him: Kaya Morgan, looking up from a textbook and laughing at something he’d just said. So their relationship had progressed to study dates. That was fast.
Michele backed away from the Osborne, heading toward home. Though it stung to see Philip with Kaya, she didn’t feel defeated—she couldn’t, not with the pages in her arms, and the incredible discovery that Philip had returned not only to her, but to the very same apartment where he had lived decades in the past.
The Gift of Sight is the ability for ordinary human beings, those with no powers, to see and interact with spirits and time travelers. Sometimes known as mediums, many of the people who possess the Gift believe they are seeing ghosts. In actuality, the apparitions they see are not ghosts, but time travelers who have not yet reached Visibility or their full physical form in the alternate time.
We have found that the Gift of Sight runs in families. As of this entry in 1880, our experiments show that five percent of families in the United States carry the Gift. This means we Timekeepers must always be on alert. Our actions in the past and future can be seen.
—THE HANDBOOK OF THE TIME SOCIETY
4
DAY THREE
Michele arrived at Berkshire High on Friday morning to find Caissie waiting for her by the columns at the front entrance. As soon as Michele caught up with her, they both said, “I have something to tell you.”
“You go first.” Michele noticed her friend’s awkward expression. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. It’s just—well, you know how I made the unfortunate decision to add Kaya Morgan as a friend on Facebook?” Caissie rolled her eyes sheepishly. “Well, I wanted you to hear it from me, and not through the school grapevine. One of Kaya’s groupies wrote on her wall that she and Philip Walker are going to be the hottest couple at the dance. He’s taking her to the Autumn Ball.”
Michele shut her eyes, flashing back to the previous night when she had watched Philip in 1934 playing their song. He wouldn’t go out with another girl, not now that he’s found me again. He wouldn’t.
“I know, it sucks,” Caissie continued. “But … I think it’s proof that he really isn’t your Philip. Because from everything you’ve told me, the Philip you knew only ever wanted to be with you. He would never come into the future only to waste time dating another girl. It makes no sense.”
“I get what you’re saying,” Michele said quietly. “But—something happened. I went to the Osborne after school yesterday.” She gave Caissie an embarrassed smile. “I know, you’re probably thinking I’ve turned into a stalker. But I just needed to talk to him. I was wearing the key, and it sent me back in time to 1934. And he was there, Caissie. I saw him in the window. He was playing piano, playing our song. The two Philips not only look the same, but they share the same ring, and now he’s living in the same apartment that my Philip spent his later life in. How can they not be the same person?”
Caissie stared at her in amazement.
“He gave me something to give Philip—a song that he thinks could be a clue to help him remember,” Michele confided. “I have to find the right time to give it to him.”
“This is just … crazy,” Caissie declared. “So your Philip really thinks the new Philip is him?”
“Well, he was shocked by what I told him, so he obviously had no memory of traveling to the future when he was younger.
But he did think it had to be him—or some version of himself. I mean, how else do you explain the resemblance and the ring and all of it?”
Caissie shook her head. “For the first time in my life, I have no answer.”
The bell rang and the two girls hurried inside. Michele noticed something new decorating the walls: posters advertising the theme and location of the Autumn Ball. She’d learned from Caissie that the Berkshire tradition was for the planning committee to keep these details secret until the last minute, which usually resulted in a mass exodus to the shops on Fifth Avenue the day before the dance.
Dress in your finest threads for a true Gilded Age Autumn Ball! The words seemed to leap off the poster as Michele glanced at it. An illustration of a gown-clad Gibson Girl dancing with a dapper-suited gentleman filled the center, while underneath was emblazoned: The Empire Room at the Waldorf-Astoria Hotel. November 19, 8 p.m.
Michele couldn’t help chuckling as she looked at the poster. The theme was too ironic. They might as well have been promoting the 1910 Halloween Ball where she had first met Philip.
“I have to say, our school is probably the only one pretentious enough to go with Old Money as the theme,” she heard a male voice say jokingly behind her.
Michele turned around to see a grinning Ben Archer.
“Yeah, it’s not going to be a rager,” she agreed. “Hopefully you know how to waltz. If this really is an old-school ball, I can tell you on good authority that there won’t be much rock or hip-hop.”
“Don’t worry. I always impress on the dance floor,” Ben said with a wink.
But Michele’s smile froze on her face when she saw Kaya and Philip swing through the doors together into the hallway.
“Come on, you guys. We should get to class,” said Caissie, following her gaze.
Ben fell into step with them and they had no choice but to face Philip and Kaya, who were approaching the same classroom from the opposite end of the hall. Philip met Michele’s eyes, and Ben chose that moment to snake his arm around her shoulder. Philip looked away, but not before furrowing his brow at the sight of Ben’s arm around her.
What if I’m the only one who ever remembers?
For the third straight lunch in a row, Michele had the misfortune of watching the Philip & Kaya Show. It was enough to dull all other emotions, even her fear of Rebecca and the battle that she knew lay ahead of her.
What if it’s just me who feels the missing touch, hears the sound of laughter long gone, and sees the two of us in a forgotten New York?
Philip seemed to look through Michele, his expression unfazed and innocent, and it was that ambivalence that seemed to mock her. Could he be playing a role … or did he actually forget me?
She couldn’t look away. Philip’s blue eyes sparkled as he and Kaya shared a joke. He broke into his signature smile, and for the first time, Michele found it heartbreaking. But then, isn’t that always the case with a smile—when you know it’s not meant for you?
She wished she could stop this speeding train of jealousy, but she couldn’t help it. To have him back, just as he’d promised, but not remember what they once had? It was as though Time was playing a particularly cruel trick.
And then his glance met hers. She’d been caught staring, but she held her gaze. So did Philip. She noticed Kaya touching his arm, trying to regain his focus, but he looked at Michele a moment longer than he should have before turning back to his lunch date.
It was a small victory, but she savored it. He couldn’t have forgotten her completely.
As Michele walked to study hall that afternoon, she was stopped by a lilting melody echoing off the school walls. The piano keys sounded like they were flying, dancing, and then wailing in a breathtaking blur of music. Michele knew of just one person who could play like that.
She turned around, breaking into a run as she followed the noise through the hallway. As the piano playing grew more frenzied, she reached the door to a room she hadn’t seen before. Gingerly stepping inside, she found herself in some sort of choir room, filled with music stands and band eq
uipment. In the corner of the room, his hands moving majestically over the piano while his body swayed to the rhythm, was Philip.
Michele’s eyes closed. For a moment she was transported back to 1910, to the candlelit nights in the Walkers’ music salon, sitting beside Philip as he played his newest compositions just for her. When she blinked her eyes open, she almost expected to find herself inside the extravagant Walker Mansion instead of the casual school choir room. The sight of Philip in the Berkshire uniform of khaki pants and navy blue polo shirt, instead of his black suit and white tie, jarred her senses. The only thing that hadn’t changed was his playing, which sounded as incredible as when she first heard it—as beautiful as it had been last night, in 1934.
Philip glanced up. Upon seeing Michele his hands froze, cutting the song off abruptly.
“I didn’t see you there.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt. I heard the piano and … I just had to see who was playing.”
Philip couldn’t help smiling, and Michele’s breath caught in her throat. It was the first real smile he had given her since arriving at Berkshire, and it gave her the confidence to take a step closer to the piano.
“The way you play—it reminds me of someone,” she began.
Philip looked away. “Not that same guy you thought I was the other day?”
Michele let out a nervous chuckle. “You sound just like the pianist Phoenix Warren.”
Philip studied the keys. “Funny—my piano teacher says the same thing.”
Now—now is the time to show him the sheet music, Michele thought. But something held her back. She felt a disconcerting distance between them, as though they had only just met, and she wondered if the clue might go over better after having a real conversation.
“What were you playing?” she asked. “I loved it.”
“You did?” Philip looked pleased. “I wrote it.”
Michele stifled a gasp. Philip was right. There would never be a version of him in any Time that wasn’t a musician. If she’d had the slightest doubt that the two were one and the same, she was now more convinced of their connection than ever.
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