by Jill Cooper
“Lar? Did you hear me?”
My head snaps back to Donovan. “I’m sorry. Pardon? Did you say something?”
Donovan cracks a slow smile. “You were a million miles away.”
“I don’t mean to be a bad wife. I—.”
“Hey,” Donovan’s eyes narrow, “you’re not. Don’t say that about yourself. You’re a great wife.”
I hope that’s true, but I don’t feel like one. I should be able to tell him what’s wrong, but I hate to disappoint him again. Life with Lara Crane is never dull, right? How I wish things could be mundane, for a little while.
It’s all going to slip away. I don’t know if it’s paranoia, but it feels like truth.
“What’s next on our list?” I blow on my coffee before I sip it. I enjoy how hot it is and how it warms me. So warm and comfortable, I could almost fall asleep. I feel like I haven’t slept in days.
Donovan turns the map around with a grin and points. “Antique shopping. What do you say? I think we should pick something up. Add something every year we’re married.”
“You’re such a romantic.” I lean across the table and Donovan meets me halfway, kissing me on the lips.
“I love you, Montgomery,” he whispers and there’s something solemn in his voice I haven’t heard before.
“It’s James now,” I remind him and Donovan grins.
My memory flashes to a moment that feels new, different. Donovan and I in bed on our wedding night. When he touches me, my skin shivers as if he’s never touched me before. Where was that coming from? How can I not remember the night of our wedding?
I’m back in the present and Donovan fishes out his wallet and counts the bills to cover our meal. “You ready to get out of here or are you going to finish that concoction you call coffee?”
I cover my discomfort by forcing a smile. “All done with my pie in a cup.”
Despite his lack of taste when it comes to coffee, Donovan is a fine man and an even better husband. I hope I get to keep him, and that whatever is coming won’t put a bullseye right on his back.
****
The antique shop we head to is an old barn. The inside is cramped tight with tables, chairs, and enough knickknacks to strangle a yak. I go around a few rows away from Donovan and pick up an old clock. It has brass arms and a golden face with a broad cream-color base. It’s the sort of thing that would dress up our old mantel.
My hand brushes across it and I decide to buy it. As I head toward the front, I reach into my purse to find my wallet. The woman behind the register wears a red dress and a matching handkerchief across her head. She smiles as I approach.
“I guess you’re her.”
“Who?” My face scrunches up.
“The one that clock belongs to. I’ve been waiting to meet you for over ten years. A few people have gotten close, but no one ever brought it this far before.”
I think she must be crazy and I start to consider not buying the clock. Maybe she has a deep affection for the antiques she sells, but instead I tremble.
“It’s been paid for already. I guess I’ve been its caretaker.” She takes it from me and places it on the counter before unfolding a brown paper bag.
“Who paid for it?” My blood pressure ticks up and I place my fingers onto the counter to steady myself.
“I don’t know. That’s the strange thing about this. She wouldn’t give her name. She said it was meant for someone special and she’d come looking for it, even if she didn’t know.”
A she. Well, that’s different.
She offers me the bag but I’m afraid to touch it. “Enjoy your purchase.”
It’s an omen, or a sign. I don’t want to take it, but I’m drawn to it. If something is about to happen, I rather know than not. Her eyes contract and she scowls. “Aren’t you going to take it?”
I snap it away and take the bag as Donovan steps up behind me. “You found something you like all right?”
“A clock for our mantel.” I turn to face him and see uncertainty on his face. I don’t tell him about what the owner said to me about the clock. If this is Rex, or something else, I’m not ready to ruin our weekend by pulling Donovan into another mystery.
“Nice,” Donovan raises his eyebrows at the idea. “Us and time. Now clocks.”
A burst of laughter escapes me. “That’s for sure. Did you find anything you like?”
He shakes his head and then takes my hand in his. We head around a row of destressed chairs and tables, making our way toward the front door. “Nothing we can fit in the car. Maybe we can have some new chairs delivered sometime. Spice the place up.”
“That sounds nice.” I smile, but it’s strained. Everything feels off, not just with the clock but with how I feel inside. Even how Donovan looks at me—almost like he rather look anywhere else.
Does he suspect I’m keeping something from him? I promise myself I’ll come clean, with time, maybe when we get back home. Whatever’s wrong, I fear time is the least of my problems.
****
We have a quiet romantic dinner back at the hotel. Seated by the window, we have a beautiful view of the mountains in the distance. There’s a lake around the hotel and I watch birds gliding into the water, someone kayaking around a corner. It’s so tranquil, I can almost forget everything that we’ve been through in the last few days.
Dessert is rich chocolate lava cakes and coffee. I’ve had a little too much red wine and on the way back up to our room, I almost lose my footing. Donovan’s soft clasp on my arm stops me from falling over and he helps me into the elevator.
I giggle as I lean against the wall and he pushes the fourth-floor button for our room. His face is close to mine. “You were quiet most of the dinner, you okay?” he whispers and strokes my cheek with his thumb, but he barely looks into my eyes.
Nodding that I am, I lick my lips. I pull him in close for a kiss and his arms come around me. He holds me tight, urgent, as if something is going on in his mind too. If he’s keeping something from me, I don’t want to know, and I allow all notions to slip through my mind as he pushes me against the wall.
I grip the back of his head as he fishes his hand under my hair. We’re hot and out of breath when the elevator door opens. Luckily, no one is around to see and we hurry, hand in hand, down the hall toward our room.
Inside, Donovan slips on some soft music and I start to unzip my dress. “Let me do that for you.” Donovan’s smooth hands run down my back and I close my eyes as he kisses the nape of my neck. My body responds with trembles and shivers, as if all of this is new. Maybe it’s the wine or maybe it’s because we were just married, but as he leads me over to the bed, I’m sizzling with anticipation.
We caress each other, clinging tightly as our bodies intertwine. Our breath is in time, sweat clinging to our brows, and I don’t want the night to end. I roll him over and straddle. His face is serene as he pulls my curls off of my brow and gazes deep into my eyes.
“I love you, Lara.” His sincere words move me. I fall against him. I lie against his sweaty chest and quiver as his hands press against my lower back. I lie there, my cheek against his pecs as he throws a sheet over our bodies.
We hold each other, and I listen to the fast tempo of his heartbeat. The same thing repeats in my head and I can’t get it to stop.
Something’s wrong.
****
Darkness falls and I don’t want to move. My arm lies across Donovan’s chest which moves up and down with his steady breathing. He’s in and out of sleep, and I stare at the wall like I’ve been doing for the last half hour. I’m too tired to do anything else.
I should wake him and tell him about the visions, the memories that aren’t mine that I’ve been experiencing. I’m afraid to talk about it because then it becomes real. It becomes a problem and after the erotic night we’ve had, that’s the last thing I want to do.
Cassidy could help me though.
So, I peel myself out of bed, grab my phone, and head into the bat
hroom. From there, I sit on the shut toilet seat and call Cassidy. It rings a few times before it dumps to voicemail. I think about what to say, but end the call instead. It’s a bad idea to go around leaving messages about memory visions on the phone.
If she’s not answering me, she might be working on the bridge. A great place, but since it exists out of time, it doesn’t exactly get cell phone reception. I grab the white bathrobe hanging on the back of the door and slip it on. If I’m going to go onto the bridge, I want to at least be covered up.
A moment later, I cup my hand and expect to feel the usual tingle in my fingertips when I open the portal to the bridge. Except this time, no tingle and no portal. My eyebrow knits together as I scowl. I try again, wondering if maybe it’s all the wine I’d had with dinner ruining my ability to concentrate.
The portal won’t open. Nothing is happening in my hand, and in my head it’s even worse. I try to force the power, that feeling I get as I push through the fabric of time, but I feel nothing. I don’t get a headache or even a twinge of pain from pushing myself too hard.
It’s gone. My power, my ability, the curse of Lara Crane, has faded.
It can’t be true. So I try again. And again. By the end, tears form in my eyes and I sit there in the darkness, staring at the wall. I don’t know what this means, nor do I know what to do.
The darkness illuminates from the glow of my phone as it rings. The display is lit up, telling me that it’s Cassidy. I answer on autopilot and my voice shakes the initial greeting. “Hello?”
“Hey, you,” Cassidy’s voice is casual and happy. “I think you’re supposed to be on your honeymoon and having a good time.”
“I am.” I wipe the stray tear sliding down my cheek and take a shaking breath. “Were you on the bridge? Is everything—okay?”
I pray it’s not me. I pray there’s something wrong with the bridge and it’s not me, but Cassidy’s answer confirms all my worst prayers. “Everything’s tip-top. Maybe you should try to stop worrying all the time. I’d let you know if there’s a problem.”
“Yeah…” I’m drifting far away and I can’t stop my spirits from dwindling. I should tell Cassidy what’s going on. My inner voices screams for me to tell someone, but I don’t want to scare her. Not yet. I want to say it, but something in me won’t let me.
“Everything okay? You sound a little off.”
“Just…too much to drink.” I laugh to cover how little I feel.
Cassidy’s laugh is rich. “You’re drunk calling to say how much you love me?”
“Something like that.”
“Go tell your husband. I’m sure he misses you.”
We say good-night and I slip the phone onto the sink so I can get out of the robe. I tiptoe back to the bedroom and I stare at Donovan’s sleeping face. He looks so calm and peaceful. How can I wake him and tell him I’m not the woman he married?
I can no longer open the portal to the bridge. I might no longer be able to travel in time. Everything I do to protect my family…it might be lost forever.
Time? It seems I have nothing but time. But, with none to spare.
Chapter Three: Lara
We drive home the next afternoon. Donovan is relaxed behind the wheel and keeps the chatter light, but I’m anything but relaxed. Along the drive I attempt to slow time, freeze it, even leapfrog over it, but nothing happens. That feeling I get in my stomach when I travel in time is gone. No headaches, no nosebleeds when I push too hard.
It’s simply not there.
When I was in the alternate timeline, I was able to push and pull until I got my power back. So why can’t I now?
I lean my elbow on the car door and wipe tears from my face as I focus on the rolling mountains and blue sky, afraid Donovan will notice. Now that I’ve confirmed what I feared the most has happened, I have no choice but to tell him, everyone. But not on the drive.
We can at least get home first.
Inside, I feel like I’m being strangled…like I’m dying. I haven’t been without my power in so long, I’m not sure if I know how to live a normal life.
What if Rex has done this somehow? Was it possible he somehow stole or locked my powers away, and now I can’t access it? I don’t know when he would have done that, but these false memories I have must come from somewhere. It all has to mean something.
It’s connected. It always is.
“You’re quiet again,” Donovan says and tosses me a glance. The sun glints behind him.
“Just enjoying the quiet and the drive.”
“It’ll be busy when we get back.” Donovan sighs, his eyebrows rising. “I have a full schedule at work with appointments and sales meetings. You have that big TTPA conference next week too.”
The TTPA—my stomach sinks. How can I run a time travel agency if I can’t travel in time? “Right. I forgot about that. Is it too late to go back on vacation?”
Donovan laughs. He takes my hand and kisses it, but doesn’t let it go. Instead, he holds onto it, his grip firm, and dread fills me. I’m keeping secrets—something we promised not to do—but how do I disappointment him with this information?
Can’t we get a few weeks to ourselves?
Delilah and the TTPA…I don’t know how I’ll tell her I won’t be able to use my power to police the timeline. As morbid as it is, I feel like I’m living my own obituary. I’d always said I wanted to walk away one day and live a normal life. I never thought it would really happen. I’d thought it was a joke and now I really wish it was.
I just want my powers back.
Rex will never let this go. If he didn’t do this to me, and he finds out I’m powerless, he will be relentless in his pursuit of me—my family.
God, what am I going to do?
Back in Somerville, our home gives me some sort of normalcy that I hadn’t felt in the White Mountains of New Hampshire. Being home, makes me feel better. The living room is cozy warm with the flickering gas fireplace against the short wall. I place my bag on the grey and white striped ottoman and unpack the clock.
Taking it with both hands, I place it directly center on our elegant mantel. Tall, clear candle holders sat on either side, along with family photos and trinkets I’ve collected over the years.
I rearrange the framed photos of Donovan and me to make the clock more of a focal point. Then I pick up the picture of Mom and me sitting outside on a park bench and a memory flashes in my mind. I’m holding the frame, gazing at Mom with such intense emotion. It’s like I haven’t seen her in forever and I crave to. I need to.
Funny, I don’t remember feeling like that in such a long time.
In the kitchen, Donovan clinks around as he fills the tea kettle. “Black or herbal?”
“Herbal. Something calming.”
I put the frame back next to the clock and then I study it. I stroke the glass face and stare at the unmoving hands. I flip the clock over and see it is missing it’s crank, and I can’t wind it up.
Great. I bought a broken clock. Maybe I could take it to be repaired tomorrow.
Donovan comes out of the kitchen with a wooden tray bearing the tea kettle, some small green cups, and cookies. “I thought you might be hungry for a snack before you check in with the bridge.”
“The bridge?” I bristle as I watch him place the tray on the ottoman in front of the sofa. Steam comes out of the tea kettle as he pours two cups. Already I can make out the aroma of lavender and chamomile. “What makes you think I’m going to check in with the bridge?”
Donovan laughs and gives me a knowing smile. “You always do when we get home. I figured I’ve kept you here with me long enough.”
I ring my hands together and Donovan stops long enough to notice the look on my face. “What’s the matter? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“My powers.” If I speak too loud the emotion in my voice will betray me. “My powers are gone.”
****
Donovan scowls and rubs his hands together. “What do you mean gone?”
I twist my fingers together as the nerves compound in my stomach. “I can’t open a portal to the bridge. I can’t freeze time, pause it, move through it. I can’t do anything, Don. It’s gone. Like it was never there to begin with. No headaches. No twinges, no—”
“Lara, honey, take a breath, okay?” His voice comes out soft and low, like he doesn’t want to upset me.
I do and then nod. “I don’t know what to do. What do we do, Don?”
“Give it time. To restore the timeline, you pushed yourself harder than you ever have. Maybe you need some time to heal. Recharge.”
“It doesn’t work like that. I should be able to feel it, but when I try, I don’t feel anything. It’s just not there. It’s gone.”
“Don’t say that.” Donovan words are strong and louder than I expect. His face goes white as he realizes he had nearly shouted and he rubs his face. “Sorry, I’m not upset with you.”
But he is upset, which strikes me as odd. There was a time when he’d have given anything for my powers to dry up and disappear, but now he’s bordering on a full-on panic because I can’t time travel.
“What if someone did this to me?”
Don’s look sharpens as his eyes narrow. “How? Who?”
I shrug. “Usually it’s Rex or someone who works for Rewind, but I don’t get how I wouldn’t remember something like that happening.”
“We can call Cassidy. She can look into it for us.” Donovan pulls out his phone and his fingers are shaking as he dials the keys. He’s taking my news harder than I’d thought he would. He might even be taking it harder than I was.
He strides into the kitchen as he talks to Cassidy. I sit on the sofa and wait but as the conversation goes on, I grow impatient. I walk into our contemporary-styled kitchen and I hang back in the doorway. My fingers grip the doorframe. Donovan’s in there, talking low so I won’t hear, and one arm wrapped around his waist like he’s going to be physically ill.
Worried about him, I reach out. “Don?”
