15 Minutes- The Complete Saga Boxset

by Jill Cooper

  “You were supposed to give up the time travel nonsense."

  "I know." Only so much a person can say. I know now it's my turn to take my licks. I can see he’s disappointed in me, as if somehow, I’d chosen this. Except it keeps choosing me. Once, I’d opened that time travel door to save Mom. Now, I can’t close it again.

  "You told me you couldn't even travel time anymore. I had nothing to worry about."

  My eyebrows rise. "It was true. But then someone started messing with time. They drew me in ways I couldn’t resist. I couldn’t let them."

  "So, what’d they do? What did they do to make you go to such extremes?”

  "They went back in time and killed you.”

  “Back in time?” Dad’s eyes widen. “Oh, I see. You’re from the future.” his eyebrows rise up high. “Great.”

  “I didn’t want to. I don’t want this, but you were there and then suddenly you weren’t. She came back to this point of time and killed you. If I could stop it some other way—.”

  “So how long do I have?”

  “Three days, Dad. Unless we do something to make them think you’re dead—."

  Dad shakes his head. "Now I know. I can be on guard. You don’t have to fix everything, Lara. It's not your job to take care of me. I can do that myself.” Dad picks up our dirty dishes and takes them into the kitchen.

  I race after him even though I know he’s not ready. He doesn’t want to hear what I have to say, but I have to keep pushing. He has to be made to listen. I might be in the body of a nineteen-year-old, but I won’t be shut out.

  He has to hear me.

  "Dad, it doesn't work that way. If you outsmart them, they’ll just reset time and try again. And again. They’re doing it to punish me, to get me to play their game. It is my problem. If you think I like this, you’re wrong. I hate it, but I have to face facts. This is the life I chose for myself when I saved Mom. I can’t stop now. I won’t let them get you.”

  Dad slams his open palm down on the faucet to stop the stream of water. He looks at me, deep into my eyes and I feel as if I have him again. That connection we’ve always had comes racing back.

  I take a deep breath. “I won’t let them win. Can’t you see that?”

  Dad takes me by the shoulders. “I want to protect you. Can’t you see that?”

  “Then let’s do it together. If you agree, if you do what I propose, it’ll save the both of us in the long run. Crane and Crane. Please, Dad.”

  He glances away, but I recognize the look on his face. “I’m not saying yes, Lara. Not yet, but why don’t you tell me what your plan is? Tell me how you think you can save my life?”

  Victory? Not exactly, but I'll take what I can get.

  ****

  Dad and I sit in the living room. He takes the sofa and I take the armchair across from him. I unfold everything as he listens with the eyes of a skeptic. “You’re going to write the note I’ve given you. Cassidy is going to set up the scene just like it was before. Bottle of pills beside your bed. Once the examiner declares you dead, we skip off and give Cassidy the two weeks she needs…to set everything up.”

  His eyes fog up with disbelief as he gazes down at the paper in his hand. I had scribbled the suicide note as I remembered it and I remembered it word for word. I doubt I’d ever forget it.

  But he shakes his head. “I don’t know if I can do this. It just isn’t true. Your mother, Molly, you’re really going to keep this from them?”

  “I don’t have a choice, Dad. It’s only for a few weeks.”

  Dad sighs and gazes out the window. “They’ve been through so much already. How much more do you think they can take?”

  “You let me worry about them. Right now, this is our only move. Please, Dad.” I’m not above begging when I’m desperate.

  “And you’ll really come with me? You’re not going to put yourself in danger? You’ll let this Cass person do it and you’ll come with me?”

  I’m not used to lying to my dad. Everything in me screams that it’s wrong, but for his own good, I smile. I meet his eyes head on and ignore my screaming conscience. “Yes. Of course, Dad. I wouldn’t let you do this by yourself.”

  Dad nods and I squeeze his hand. “What about the casket?” Dad asks in a low, haunted voice. I can’t imagine how it must feel to talk about your own funeral.

  “Cassidy is arranging that. She…well, she has a habit of making things go her way.”

  “And who is she exactly? Your new ally.”

  “Let’s just say she’s a relative. She’s special and I owe her my life, more than once. I know this is a lot to take in…”

  Dad holds up his hand. “It’s all right. I guess I should pack something.”

  “You can’t do that. It has to appear that everything is as you left it. I’m sorry, Dad. That’s how it has to be.”

  Numbly, he nods. “I guess I’m not used to this. You seem like an old pro and I’m shaking in my boots.”

  “Hardly,” I stand, “I have a few things I need to get done, but I promise I’ll pick-up some supplies for you. A few weeks isn’t too long to spend with me, is it?”

  Dad puts his arms around my shoulder as he guides me to the front door. “I think that’s the only part of this crazy plan I like, but if you say it will work…”

  “Night, Dad.” I kiss his cheek and slip out into the hallway.

  It’ll work. It has to.

  Chapter Thirty

  The days tick by slowly, but on the third day, everything seems to freeze. I busy myself trying to be domestic. Donovan’s back and unpacking his suitcase while I make dinner in the cramped kitchen. There are a few open boxes lying on the counter, the jug of milk, and what is left of the butter.

  “I thought we’d go out to eat. Celebrate.” Donovan wraps his arms around my middle. It’s so good to have him back home, even if I can’t keep my mind on the present.

  “I thought I’d treat you.”

  Donovan picks up the open box on the counter. “Mac and cheese? You rather eat this than go out?”

  “I made dinner for my dad a few nights ago.” I glance at Donovan as I stir with a wooden spoon. “Steak, potatoes, gravy…”

  Donovan groans. “You’re killing me!”

  “I realized I’ve never made you one of my favorite meals in the world. My dad used to make this for me whenever I was sick. Before…before I changed time,” proudly, I turn off the burner and present him with my frying pan, “Mac and cheese with peas and tuna. Voila.” My hand gesture is that of a fashion model on The Price is Right.

  Donovan tries hard to suppress a laugh. “You think I’m a food snob, don’t you?”

  “I think you’re just a plain ol’ snob,” tugging on his pant buckle, I pull him close so we can kiss, “Try it for me, or you might never get steak again.” Using my wooden spoon, I offer him a bite and to his credit, Donovan tastes it.

  He sucks on his top lip. “Okay, that’s not bad. I’ll give you that. I guess if it means a life with you, I can put up with it.”

  I laugh at him as he grabs some dishes from the cabinet. “I made sugar cookies for dessert.”

  “Sugar cookies,” his eyebrows rise, “Well, why didn’t you say so!” I follow him out to the small table in our living room. As I get closer, I see a bottle of white wine on the table. “I’m not sure white wine is the best thing to serve with this dish. It’s more of a cola thing.”

  “Lots of people drink before they’re twenty-one, Lara.” Donovan lights the small candle in the center of the table. “My dad got it for me—for us. He helped me make a big investment on our trip. A big one.”

  My heart sinks as I realize this is it. This is the moment that had changed the course of our life in the future. I had hoped, somehow, the investment wouldn’t ever be made. “That’s great,” I force a smile and a laugh, “That’s…awesome.”

  “Wicked awesome,” Donovan touches my chin, “We’re going to be set for life. Everything you’ve ever wanted, it’s going
to happen. I promise.” He pours the wine and he’s beaming. The glow on his face breaks my heart.

  “Don, you know I have everything I want, right? You, my parents. My family. That’s all I really ever wanted.”

  He takes the frying pan from me and sets it on the table. “You can’t pay bills with all that stuff, Lara. Wouldn’t you be happier if you could have both?”

  I smooth his face with my hand. “No, I wouldn’t. I wouldn’t, Don. I’m serious. I don’t need to be rich to be complete. I’ve been poor before. I know poor, but you know what I’ve also been? Alone. Isolated and locked in a cage. That’s far worse than being poor.”

  Donovan’s smile drops and he gets that serious look he gets when he watches football. “Okay, Lara. Okay. I was just kidding, you know? I…wouldn’t trade you for all the money in the world.”

  I smile as we embrace, but part of me isn’t sure. Part of me just really doesn’t know…no matter how much I want to believe him.

  ****

  “I’m just going to go throw out the trash.”

  On the sofa beside me, Donovan is half asleep with his hands folded, his head resting off to the side. In front of us, the television plays just loud enough that I can escape without him really noticing. He nods, but I’m not sure he really hears me, as tired as he is after his long day of travel.

  I grab the bag of trash, along with the small duffle bag stowed in the kitchen, before I sneak out the front door. Down the stairwell I go, until I reach the bottom level, just outside and beside a green dumpster. As I throw the trash into a dumpster, a shadow peers out from around the corner.

  It’s Other Lara. She’s dressed in jeans and a hoodie. We don’t have long to talk so I toss the duffel on the ground beside her feet.

  “Tonight at ten, he’ll be presumed dead. You make sure he goes with you quietly. Don’t tell him there’s more than one of us.”

  “I know,” Other Lara’s hands splay, “I’m you, remember?”

  “Sorry,” I cringe and glance over my shoulder, “It’s just nerves.”

  Other Lara bends over to grab the bag. “I know. Tomorrow in class—just make sure it’s authentic.”

  Authentic, right. Authentic. I turn back and head into the apartment building with nerves clustering in me everywhere. I’ve done some crazy things before but pretending my dad is dead while surrounded by my family and friends; that is going to be one of the hardest things I’ve ever done.

  ****

  “Lara Montgomery?”

  I glance up in class and realize I haven’t been paying attention. My professor points his finger toward the door and I see Mom just outside the window. She’s twitching her fingers, and her face is wet with tears.

  Oh, God…. Here we go.

  Clearing my throat, I wipe my hands on my skirt and head out into the hall as slowly as I can. I feel as if I’m marching to my death. When my eyes fall on Mom…I don’t want to do this anymore. Her red eyes still me, as do her puffy cheeks. She’s been crying…crying hard.

  “Mom?” I grip her arms, almost forgetting my pretense. “What’s the matter?”

  She glances up at the ceiling and her eyes fill with fresh tears. Mom squeezes my arms to anchor herself and I feel the weight of my decision gripping me tightly. What am I putting her through?

  “It’s…John,” Mom’s lip quivers and her voice raises into a panic, “he’s…I’m sorry…I should be stronger for you than this.”

  “Mom?” Quietly, my lips part and tears well in my eyes. I’m not acting anymore. My heart is breaking and I don’t know if it’s because I feel the weight of my dad being gone, or for what I’m putting my mom through.

  “He’s gone, baby. He’s gone.” Mom breaks down into painful sobbing.

  I shake my head. I’m supposed to rant and rave. Come unglued, but how can I do that to my mom? The pain she’s feeling is so strong. “Momma?” I whisper and my lip quivers. I’m about to lose it, not for the loss of my dad, but because of my mom’s pain; that I’m the one causing it. I’m the one who is hurting her this way.

  When all I’ve ever wanted to do is save her.

  Mom pulls me in for a hug, and we embrace. We hold each other tightly and mom cries out with her face buried in my hair. “How could he… How could he do this? I never…never got to tell him…never told him how much…”

  She chokes on her words and I squeeze my eyes shut to block them out, but I hear them anyway. How much I loved him.

  I only hold her harder. “I’m sorry, Momma. I’m sorry, Momma.” I don’t know how many times I say it, but by the end I’m hoarse and my heart has broken open for the world to see.

  ****

  My plan made so much more sense on paper. As I go through the motions of grief, love, and loss, it grows harder every day to keep up the act. I sit with Mom, her hand in mine, as we meet with the funeral director. Mom isn’t crying anymore, but she seems numb. Like she isn’t even here.

  Instead, it’s as if she gazes off, caught by a distant thought, a haunting memory that I can’t see. “I never thought this was how it would end.” Mom’s cheeks fill out as she fights a fresh wave of tears. She folds her handkerchief and dots at her eyes as if, somehow, that will help. “He seemed so strong. He seemed so hungry for life.”

  I bite my lip and squeeze her fingers. I know why I’m doing this, but it’s hard. I can’t even look over at her or the guilt might consume me.

  After our meeting, Mom and I kiss each other’s cheeks. I show her out and then I meet with the funeral director one more time. He’s a tall man with a head full of gray hair. His eyes watch me with suspicion. “You’re asking a lot of me.”

  “That’s a big briefcase of cash we gave you,” I cross my arms and offer him a level stare, “Unless you want to go back to your wife and tell her everything.”

  He sinks down into a recliner. “Heavens, no. I’ll do as you ask, but if someone opens the casket, it’ll all be for nothing.”

  “That won’t happen.” I shake his hand and then I’m on my way.

  At Mom’s house, everyone is there—even Donovan’s dad—and a fog of grief hangs over everything. Even the glasses and the silverware sound muted to me, as if they too, are afraid to intrude on our silence.

  I excuse myself to the kitchen and in there I hide. The countertops are a parade of colorful casserole dishes. While the smell of assorted cheeses and cream sauces is delightful, I’m too torn up inside to really be hungry. Instead, I grab a glass of water and chug it down.

  “You doing okay?”

  I jump at the sound of Jax’s voice. “Jax.”

  I’m so relieved to see him that I crush him with a hug. His arms come around me as they always do and I’m thankful that he cares so much.

  “Your mom said it’d be okay if I came around. I wanted to be here for Mike and Molly, but mostly for you. No matter what happens, I’ll always think of you as my baby girl…and I’m sorry about your dad.”

  Jax kisses the top of my head and I’m struck by his simple words. Simple in nature, maybe, but they resound all around me. “You’re such a good guy, Jax. I wish…well, I wish for a lot of things.”

  “Sometimes there’s no fixing certain mistakes, but I’ll always be around for you. I hope you know that.”

  I nod. “I do. Thanks, Jax. Will you…be at the funeral?” I bite my tongue as I ask the question.

  “If you want me to.”

  “I do.” Reaching back into my memory, I see that he’s there. We’re standing by the casket, Jax holding my hand as Molly takes my other. She gazes up at me and whispers. “This shouldn’t be happening.”

  With a start, I take a short sharp breath. Jax gazes at me with suspicion. “You all right?”

  “Yeah, there’s just something I have to go do.”

  I head upstairs to the bedrooms. Mike is playing video games in his room, but Molly is nowhere to be seen. “Molly?” I knock on her door, but her room is empty. Her princess bed is made, but there’s no one there.
>
  When I turn around, I see Molly dressed in her navy-blue dress standing in the doorway of the bathroom. She stares straight ahead at nothing and it’s as if she can’t even see me. As though she’s somewhere else.

  It terrifies me.

  “Molly?” I bend in front of her and her eyes don’t even blink. I wave my hand in front of her face. “Molly!” I scream to get her attention.

  Suddenly, she breathes again and her eyes blink. “Hi, Lara.” She smiles and then gives me a hug as if nothing has happened.

  As if she hadn’t just been frozen stiff, her mind a million miles away.

  “Hang in there, Molly,” I whisper, my chin on her shoulder, “It’ll be over soon.”

  ****

  One by one, everyone arrives at the funeral home. Donovan drives us. He’s in his finest black suit and tie. I’m dressed in a black dress, wearing comfortable pumps. I keep my eye out for anything suspicious, but in reality, there isn’t anything off.

  Donovan opens the door for me and holds an umbrella as we silently walk in the rain toward the funeral home. When he sees my mother, he stops. “I’ll go get her.” He leaves me dry as a bone under the canopy and races to escort her inside.

  Kind. Compassionate. Every girl should be so lucky. But still, my heart sinks. Still, I’m not sure what to make of everything.

  Instead of waiting for him, I head inside. The cool blast of air-conditioning greets me and there’s an overwhelming aroma of flowers. Soft music plays, intended to inspire relaxation, but quiet enough not to intrude. I gaze at the closed casket covered in the bouquet of white roses that Mom had sent. I have never seen so many giant roses in my life.

  All the chairs are empty as I move through the room and knock on Mr. Richards’s office. “Mr. Richards? I wanted to apologize for what I said,” I push open the office door and I’m taken aback when I see his body beside the desk. Crumbled on his chest with his arms by his side, there’s a pool of red blood spilling out from beneath him. It soaks into the red carpet, like a giant Kool Aid stain.