by Jill Cooper
He jump and throws me a glance over his shoulder and all I see is worry on his face. I’m struck by a memory I shouldn’t have. We are standing in this very kitchen and Donovan glares at me, a hateful look in his eyes as he says, “What have you done with my wife?”
I throttle back as the memory fades. Donovan quickly ends his phone call. “Are you all right?”
My forehead throbs, like thunder crashing into my skull. I squeeze my eyes shut and rub the bridge of my nose. “Yeah, I’m fine.”
Donovan’s runs his hands up my arms. “Cassidy is looking into things. Sorry that took longer than expected.”
I shake my head. “You looked so upset.”
With a shake of his head, Donovan sighs, his hands on his hips. “I am upset. Cassidy is too. We know how much this worries you and how helpless you’re going to feel. We’ll fix it. Whatever we have to do.”
“How?” I ask as he wraps his arms around me and we fall into a long, deep embrace.
“I don’t know,” Don whispers against my ear, “but we will.”
“And if we can’t? If this is just how it is now?”
“You have family that will keep you safe. We’ll find a way to move on.”
Maybe his answer would bring some people comfort, but I’m not one of those people. I need to be strong, take care of myself, but I’m nothing more than a sitting duck in a time travel pond with nowhere to go.
And no means of escape.
****
Donovan takes a shower and I try to relax in the living room. Leaning back against the sofa cushions, I sigh. I think back to our time in the mountains and at the hotel. Closing my eyes, I concentrate on it. The brick wall of the building rushes toward me, but it’s barely even a memory. Instead, it’s something I’m forcing myself to see. Instead of moving through time, I’m pretending. Going through the motions.
God, I need a drink.
“Nothing?”
When I open my eyes, Donovan is in front of me. He’s changed his clothes with hair still damp from his shower. Donovan pours whiskey into two glasses. He hands me one and sinks onto the sofa, draping his arm around my shoulders.
I shake my head and take a sip of the whiskey, then lick my lips. “Nothing’s as it should be. Except for maybe you and me.”
He sighs and leans his head against mine. “Maybe after a good night’s sleep…”
It’s not like that. I know that and so does Donovan. He’s grasping at straws to make me feel better and I should appreciate it but inside I feel hollow. I feel dead. What good am I to anyone if I can’t time travel?
We sit there and finish our drinks. I slide my empty glass onto the coffee table. I should unpack our suitcases, but I can’t will myself to do anything. I lay into Donovan’s arms and enjoy his warmth, his musky scent as he wraps his arms tight around my frame.
“This doesn’t change anything,” he whispers against my head. “How I feel about you, what we do from here, nothing’s changed.”
It might not for him, but what if it changes everything for me?
When the portal to the bridge opens, I feel it vibrate through the room, but somehow it doesn’t resonate with me the way it usually does. We stand as Cassidy steps through with her phone in hand.
She’s dressed casually in a pair of blue jeans and a cinch jacket around her waist. Her blond hair is pinned back. She looks refreshed, but there’s concern in her eyes as they fall to me. “I’ve looked through system scans and checks, there’s no sign of Rex or Future Mike doing anything that would cause this.”
“Future Mike? He was killed when the dark bridge folded, wasn’t he?”
Cassidy nods. “Can never be too careful though. You never know who might step through in the dark.”
I shiver at her choice of words. “If it’s not them, then who?”
Cassidy’s gaze darts to Donovan for a fraction of a second before it settles back on me. “What do you mean?”
“If I can’t travel in time then someone did something to me.” I try to be patient, but I cut my honeymoon short so we can find the answers to what’s going on with me. If Cassidy can’t help me get to the bottom of what’s going on, then who can?
Molly. Molly can do things no one else can.
“Or maybe it’s like I said, maybe you need time.” Donovan rests his hand on my shoulder. “You went through a horrible ordeal. When you pieced our timeline back together, you pushed yourself harder than you ever had. Maybe your body needs a break.”
“Just give it a little time. For us, okay?” Cassidy asks gently. From how softly she’s talking, I feel like we’re in a hospital instead of in an apartment.
I’m not sick. I’m being attacked by someone out there. Yet, everyone wants me to take it easy and take a vacation. Why are they pretending not to be concerned when I can see the worry and fear on their faces?
“Okay.” I shrug and slap my outer thighs with my hands. “Want a drink and to sit down for a while?”
Cassidy’s mouth falls open and then she stutters as she gazes at Donovan. “I can’t. Sorry. Molly’s been trying to reach me. Later though, okay?” She forces a smile and then she steps back through the portal, but not before I see the look she gives Donovan and the look he gives her.
Warning bells go off in my head. Something isn’t just wrong with me.
It’s wrong with them, too.
Chapter Four: Molly
Life is good at Dad’s townhouse. Mike and I always have fun there and today’s no different. Dad rents movies we want to see and the video games we want to play. Mike is extra jovial as we sit around in the living room, laughing and eating pizza. It’s good to see his eyes dance with happiness again and I think nothing of it as we sit around on the brown leather sofa.
Close together, playing games and drinking soft drinks. It’s the good life and I wish to slow down and enjoy this day forever.
Dad straightens up the table behind us in the small dining room. It’s covered in empty soda cans and the girly teen magazines I’d brought with me. “Where do you guys want to go for dinner? I thought the golf club might be a nice change in pace.”
“From the pizza joint?” I ask.
“Or the fast food burger place around the corner. That’d be fun,” Mike says without taking his eyes off the screen. His fingers hammer like lightning across the video game remote.
“Oh, come on!” Dad claps his hands together. He leans over the back of the sofa and wraps his arms around both of us. “I don’t get to show the both of you off that much anymore.”
“That’s because we aren’t things, Dad,” Mike mutters.
I give Mike the evil eye. “If Dad wants us to dress up and go to the country club, we should.”
Mike groans and throws his video game controller down onto the cushion. “That means wearing actual slacks and a tie for me. You’re a lucky girl. You get to wear dresses.”
“You can wear a dress if you want to, pal.” Dad punches Mike on the shoulder with a grin. “Country club passed that rule last month. Times are changing!”
I laugh as Mike unfolds the newspaper on the coffee table and tents it over his head. “I rather not show my legs off that much, thanks!”
“In that case….” Dad goes to the closet behind the television and reveals two outfits on hangers. The dress is a rich teal green, a little conservative but nothing I can’t handle. When Mike sees the suit jacket and vest he’s supposed to wear, he sinks further down into the plush seat cushions.
“I passed up tickets to the game for this?”
He didn’t want to go to the game with Mom or John Crane anyway. Who is he kidding?
“What’s the special occasion, Dad?” I stand and take the dress as Dad offers it to me.
“A special guest. You’ll see.” Dad rushes us upstairs so we can wash up and get ready. I haven’t seen him this happy in a while. As I turn into my private bathroom, he continues down the hall, whistling as he goes.
Snapping his fingers, a spring
in his step. When was the last time Dad was this happy?
****
After my shower, my glossy curls are pinned back and the dress makes me feel like a lady. I model it in front of the full-length mirror in my big bedroom—fit for a princess. The way it hangs is flattering but long, ending right beneath my knees. When I’m done, I go across the hall to Mike’s room. He stands by the mirror and he’s adjusting his tie, a scowl on his face.
“Your hair is sticking up in the back.” I smirk and fold my arms as I enter the room.
Mike grunts and strokes the back of his head. “This isn’t what I would call a fun weekend at Dad’s.”
“He clearly has had this in the works for a long time. He’s excited. We should be excited for him.”
Mike rolls his eyes as he looks at me in the mirror. “You’re a goody-two-shoes.”
He’s the one who conspired with his future self to ruin our sister’s life. Maybe I should be lecturing him, but I keep my mouth shut. He’d helped us in the end and I don’t want to point fingers at him, but I can’t help but feel a little miffed at his attitude.
“Mike!” Dad bellows from downstairs. “Molly! Do I need to change reservations to breakfast instead?”
I crane my neck toward the door and respond. “We’re coming, Dad!” I grab Mike’s hand to pull him with me, but I’m hit with a rise of heat on his palm.
I feel a surge of anger and quickly let go of him. Mike was passed that, wasn’t he? I stare up and see surprise in his face. “You okay, Moll?”
Here I thought he worked through all that. “I’m fine.” My eyes narrow. “Are you?”
Mike’s eyes narrow with confusion. “What do you mean—”
Dad interrupts again—this time he’s at the door, wrapping his knuckles against the frame. “You guys are planning to come downstairs in this timeline, right?”
Time jokes are standard in our family these days, but Dad doesn’t know what I know. He might’ve been through things too, but not to the extent I have. He doesn’t know the secrets that Mike harbors.
Mike smiles easily at Dad. He’s relaxed and good-natured like he used to be. I’m happy to see that look return to his face, but is it natural? Or did he force it? “Coming, Dad.” Mike offers me his elbow and I sling my arm through his.
We start down the stairs and I work at reading what he’s feeling, his future choices, but I find none. I’ve always been able to sense Mike’s timeline choices before, but for some reason, now I can’t.
I glance up at Mike and his neutral expression. But can’t help but smirk, the corner of his mouth lifting ever so slightly.
I should be able to read the choices he will make, could make, and all of the possibilities. I can understand and sense just about everything through the multiverse timelines. I’ve been able to read Mike before, so why can’t I read him now?
****
The fact I can’t read Mike throws me off. I’m quiet in the car ride over to the golf and country club Dad loves. Mike manages to get shotgun and he talks to Dad the whole drive. He’s happy, almost giddy. I have to wonder why the sudden mood change. Does he know I can’t read his future actions?
If he does, why so much happiness about it? Maybe he’s found a way to block me on purpose and that’s not good.
I twist the hem of my dress, nerves on edge as I gaze out the window as Dad drives the car up the hill. Outside is a field of green rolling hills with little flags denoting where the golf holes are. Cute. Men in ridiculously bright golf clothes walk by carrying golf bags, and behind them the sun begins to set.
The car pulls up to the curb of the country club. It’s a towering Victorian-style home made of brick, and the valet comes around to open my door. When I slide out, he takes my hand to help me. “Thanks,” I give him a feint smile, but he barely acknowledges me as he rushes to get into the driver’s seat. Mike stands on the curb and slings his arm around my shoulders.
Dad’s car speeds away as he steps up beside me and adjusts his tie. “Ready for the night of your life?”
Mike groans. “Dad, no more jokes.”
I glance up and can’t read him, but I try. I stare into his face and feel like I’m hitting a wall. He’s my twin, we’ve always been like peanut butter and jam, but right now I feel very little connection to Mike. He’s jovial, smiling like he doesn’t have a care in the world. It twists me up inside.
We head toward the entrance and Mike slows down to walk in time with me. He takes my hand and slides it against his arm like when we were kids. He’s always liked escorting me.
“You okay? You were quiet on the ride over.”
I open my mouth to answer, but Dad comes up and slings his arms over our shoulders and pushes us toward the door. “C’mon, I thought teenagers were hungry all the time.”
“Real hungry.” Mike grins. “Chicken fingers and French fries, here I come.”
Dad scoffs. “At the country club? That’s a wasted meal.”
“Cobb salad for me, maybe,” I say.
Dad groans. “The dieting’s begun already? You’re only fifteen, Moll.”
“I don’t think there’s anything diet about bacon and ranch dressing, Dad.” I laugh.
We step inside the posh main hall. Chandeliers dangle from the high vaulted ceiling and the hostess smiles, her nose slightly in the air. Off to the right is an elegant staircase that leads somewhere private upstairs. To the right, a giant entryway reveals diners sitting at tables draped in graceful white tablecloths.
Everything about this place feels pompous, and nothing like Dad at all.
Why does he even like this place? It’s something I never really understood. It smells like old lady perfume as the hostess brings us into the main dining room. The windows go from floor to the top of the high ceiling and it gives us a lovely view of the green outside. There’s a manmade body of water nearby, very fake, but the ducks swimming in it don’t care. I guess I shouldn’t care either.
“Your guest is waiting for you this way.” The hostess gestures straight ahead at a table in the corner by the window. A young woman I’ve never seen before rises from her seat and my insides crash with nerves.
She can’t be older than thirty-years-old but wears her blond hair in an old-fashioned French twist. Her eyes are a soft brown and she moves toward us as we approach. She’s in a business suit that compliments her curvy body, and I fear I know exactly what is happening. Dad smiles wide, his dimples flashing as she approaches.
This isn’t good. Not good at all.
I steal a glance at Mike and see that his smile has fallen. He’s worried now, too.
“Kids, I’d love you to meet Miss Morgan Drake. Morgan, these are my twins Molly and Mike.”
“Hello,” she says warmly and shakes Mike’s hand and then mine. She grips her other hand on top of mine and it makes me feel like she’s trying to express affection to me. Bizarre, considering we’ve only just met. “Jax, I mean your father, has told me so much about you.”
“Has he?” Mike says with an accusatory tone. “Funny.”
“Is it?” Morgan asks innocently. “I don’t know why—”
“Why don’t we take a seat. Order an appetizer or two and we’ll fill in the blanks, okay?” Dad pulls a chair out for Morgan and pushes her in. Anger churns in Mike’s eyes as he pulls a seat out for me. When I sit, he slides my chair in, like Mom had taught him to do years ago. Then he sits beside me.
I tap my finger on his knee to get his attention, but he doesn’t look at me. He only pushes my hand away. When he returns his hand to the table, he leans on his elbows and stares at Morgan, as if she’s the enemy.
“Mike,” Jax warns. “No elbows on the table at here. We’re not at home, all right?”
Mike stares him down a few seconds too long before he straightens up. “Sorry, Dad. Been so long since you’ve brought us here. Barely recognize the place.”
If Morgan feels the hostility coming off of Mike, she doesn’t say anything. She only smiles. “Your
dad felt it was time we finally met.”
“I bet he did,” Mike mutters under his breath and I kick him. Mike glances at me and I shake my head. This wasn’t the time or the place.
“Ms. Drake and I are business partners. We’ve bought some land out in Somerville and we’re working on developing it. Open an outdoor mall and some outside dining. Rustic, farm-to-table type stuff. Bring it closer to the city.”
Somerville—that’s where Lara lives. Does that mean Lara knows? Or is it a big coincidence? I blink and sip my water.
Morgan smiles as Dad talks and her eyes sparkle. “It’s been so much fun.”
“Bit out of your expertise, Dad,” Mike says, his jaw grating back and forth.
“Well,” Dad reaches for his water, “I have a business sense and Ms. Drake has the real estate know-how. It’s going to be a massive success. Since we’ve been spending so much time together, I thought it was about time you guys met her.”
“It sounds exhilarating.” I nod my head toward Morgan. “It’s very nice to meet you.”
“Likewise, you too, Molly. You both seem like such nice, lovely young people,” Morgan says. “Should we order something? I’m starving.”
“Not until I know why we’re really here.” Mike tosses his napkin down on the table and my eyes widen at him.
“Mike!” I whisper.
“That’s uncalled for, Michael. We’re here to have a nice meal. Get to know my business partner—”
“Oh, please. You don’t think I see what you’re doing?” Mike asks. “You’re not business partners. No one introduces their kids to their business partners at the country club.”
“I’m so sorry, Morgan,” Dad says and his cheeks redden. “Mike, there’s no reason to be rude to our guest.”
“No, it’s all right. They aren’t babies, Jax. Maybe we should put all the cards on the table. Explain this before things get out of hand.” Morgan places her hand on Dad’s, and it all becomes crystal clear.
He squeezes her fingers and there’s a giant diamond ring sparkling on her left hand. I stare at it and my mouth drops open.
