by Jill Cooper
Chapter Eleven: Donovan
I rush through the hospital to get to Lara’s side. When the call from Cassidy came in, I could think of only one thing. What we had done to restore Lara hadn’t worked. She is slipping and that meant we are losing her. I am losing her. This is the moment in time when she’ll pass us all by and she’ll be gone.
Forever.
When I’d run into Lara’s private hospital room at the ER, I hadn’t known what to expect, but the sound of her laugh stuns me. I stand at the doorway and cast my eyes on my beautiful wife who is sitting up in bed. Machines are beeping all around. The room is too warm to be comfortable, but I barely notice any of that.
Lara’s okay. My wife’s awake, smiling. It all feels like a gift. I’ve been given another day. At least one more day.
Cassidy is smiling down at her and I try not to notice that she’s radiant too as she holds Lara’s hand. There’s so much love between them and it seems to cast them both in a golden glow. I hate the idea that what Cassidy and I have done to Lara will one day tear them apart.
I want Lara to have friends, normal relationships, but she has to be alive for any of that to happen. I hadn’t had a choice; I’d had to make that decision. I wish Cassidy and Molly could see that instead of condemning me.
“Don,” Lara says when she sees me. I hurry to her side. I wouldn’t say I pushed Cassidy out of the way, but she sidesteps me. Cass stands against the wall, looking anywhere but at us. If she’s hurt, upset, I can’t begin to focus on her pain. I can only concentrate on Lara.
“What happened? Are you okay?” I take Lara’s hand and kiss her forehead.
“I had a seizure. The doctor isn’t sure what triggered it. The EKG was normal and my brain’s fine. He said maybe stress from the wedding.” Lara shrugs and she doesn’t quite meet my eyes. I write it off as her being worried. She doesn’t believe the doctor is right about the cause and I hope to God that’s all she’s worried about.
“When can you go home?”
“Soon,” Lara says. “The doctor is finishing some paperwork.”
I breathe a sigh of relief as Cassidy moves into the center of the room. “I’m glad you’re okay, Lara, but I should get going. Give you guys some time to catch up. Talk.”
Lara nods and I cast her a suspicious look. “Right, talk. Thanks for everything, Cassidy. I’m sorry I gave you such a scare.”
Cassidy smiles brilliantly at Lara. “Just glad you’re okay.” When her eyes fall to mine, I feel like a message passes between us and a shiver runs through my body. I pull my gaze back onto my wife and catch Lara chewing on her bottom lip.
She’d seen the glance between me and Cassidy. Crap. I’ll have to be more careful.
I sit on the edge of Lara’s bed and stroke the top of her hand. Lara scoots up further in bed and rests her back against a pile of pillows “How are you feeling now?”
“A little headache,” Lara admits. “It’s a dull throb. The doctors think it’ll pass in time. I need some water and rest.”
“I’ll make sure you get plenty of both.”
“Everything okay between you and Cass?” Lara asks.
I nod. “Why wouldn’t it be?”
“I don’t know. Just was getting a vibe, but maybe it’s coming from me.” Lara sighs and I wonder what she’s getting at. Her eyes are sad and withdrawn but maybe that has to do with the seizure more than anything. “I talked to Delilah and Cassidy. They were telling me things about the alternate timeline.”
I feel like I’ve been sucker-punched and sit up straighter. “They did?”
“Delilah thought I knew. Thought you told me. I wish you had, Don.”
She knew about me and Cassidy? Delilah was her friend; how could she tell her something like that? “Lara,” I rush on, “I can explain.”
“I was pretty upset,” Lara admits, “but seeing how you rushed in here and seeing you after my seizure, I don’t want to make a big thing about it. Future Mike and Rex made sure you sided with your mother. I can’t blame you for the memories they gave you. I wish you had told me you were working for Rewind in the altered timeline. That you had shot and killed my mother.”
“Right.” I glance away, try to hide that I’d forgotten all about that and had been thinking of something else.
She leans forward to put her arms around me. “I know you probably feel guilty. Ashamed. It’s all over your face.”
God, I wish I could tell her the truth. Everything she said is true, but the reasons why are far worse than she can understand. “I need you to forgive me. If you forgive me, if you think we can move on…”
Lara leans in closer and kisses me. Her love is healing, and I want nothing more than to hold her forever. “Maybe you can take me home rather than take me to dinner?”
“Anything you want. We’ll order in, better than me trying to cook, right?”
“Your cooking might kill me.” She smiles and doesn’t see how horrified her sentence makes me. “That sounds like a great idea. Is there anything else I should know about the altered timeline?”
I shake my head. “Only how much I missed you. I might’ve forgotten who you were, but inside, I knew you were missing. Nothing was right. Everything about that timeline was wrong and it shook me, Lar, down to my bones.”
She rests her head against my shoulder and closes her eyes. Lara’s face is peaceful, relaxed, and I want nothing more than for this to be the last of it. For every question, and every problem we have to fade away into obscurity.
But that’s not how life works with Lara Crane. If I want to keep what’s happening under wraps, I’m going to have to do a better job. Two days in and it feels like a battle I’m beginning to lose.
Chapter Twelve: Lara
Donovan takes me home and does everything he’s supposed to. He picks up dinner, he rubs my feet, and is constantly attentive in a way that most woman crave, but inside my pounding head, an alarm is ringing. There’s something wrong and I can’t pinpoint what it might be.
We sit on the sofa together in our small apartment. Donovan’s arm is around my shoulders as the television flickers with the images of a movie we’ve been wanting to watch. He sits close and I rest my head against his chest, listening to his racing heart. Donovan isn’t as calm as he appears to be.
It could be work stress getting to him, but maybe it’s something else. Maybe there’s something he’s not telling me.
I stare up at his face and can’t figure out a thing. He looks as he usually does, except the corner of his lip twitches. “Don—” My phone rings and interrupts what I’m about to say. I gaze down at the ottoman where it sits. The front display lights up blue.
“I’ll get it,” Donovan stretches for my phone and offers me the phone. “Unlisted number, if you want to take it?”
I swipe the phone to take the call. “Hello?”
I’m quiet as I wait for the voice on the other side to respond. Finally, an elderly woman’s voice chirps sweetly into the phone. “Mrs. James?” It’s the old woman I had met from the clock repair shop. “Your clock is ready to pick up.”
The clock. I had completely forgotten. Frazzled, I rub my forehead and close my eyes. I’m drifting away, spinning with a dizzy spell. “Sorry, I’m afraid I forgot. I had a medical emergency. Is tomorrow morning all right?”
“Well, of course. I hope everything’s all right.”
“I’ll be fine. I’m home now. I’ll see you tomorrow morning on my way to work.” We end the call and Donovan studies me with nervous eyes.
“Are you sure going to work is the best thing for you tomorrow? Maybe you should stay home and rest.”
“If I have to stay inside another day, I think I might lose my mind, Don. I have to do things and go about my lifeseven if I can’t….” Even if I can’t time travel. I can’t say it, let alone allow my heart to admit it.
Don relaxes beside me. “Okay. We could use your help at the office if you want to come in, unless the TTPA needs you.”
“I’ll find out
. I have one-morning meeting, but I’m pretty sure I can swing by in the afternoon.”
“Good.” Donovan pushes his lips together as he leans in for a kiss. It tastes bitter. He’s forcing the affection as though he’s covering up for something else.
“Are you sure there’s nothing you want to tell me?”
Donovan shakes his head. “Just worried. I’m going to keep my eye on you. I’m never going to let you go again.”
The doorbell rings and Donovan goes to answer it. He must really be shaken up with everything that happened and I decide to let it go. If he’s feeling guilty for not being able to protect me, well…I want that to go easier on him.
He returns a few minutes later with a long white box. “These came for you.” He slides the box into my arms and sits on the ottoman. His goofy smile spreads across his face and I return it.
“Did you do this?”
Donovan shrugs. “Maybe you should lift the lid and find out.”
I’m on cloud nine as I pull the lid off and drop it gently to the floor. The white tissue paper around the long-stemmed roses crinkles as I pull it back. I stare with horror at the black roses in the box. They’re dried out and withered, dead. I gasp as I pick out the card laying nestled between the stems.
“Oh God, I’m sorry, Lara. They were supposed to be red roses. I’ll call them and find out what happened.” Donovan rushes the box away from me, but I’m holding the blue envelope in my hand and it feels familiar.
Rex loved that blue stationary. He used to send all his notes on blue paper, starting in the virtual world and continuing on to Delilah’s murder and then to the timeline I had just escaped.
My mouth dries and my fingers shake as I pull the card out of the envelope.
Miss me?
He’s back and this time, I won’t be able to fight him. Tears fall from my eyes and I cover my mouth as Donovan races from the kitchen to be by my side. “What is it?” he asks gently as he puts his arms around me.
I can’t find the strength to answer as I bury my head against his shoulder and want nothing more than for the world to swallow me whole. I used to be in control. I used to be Lara Crane, but now I’m a powerless pawn in a world of time travel.
I’m nothing.
Chapter Thirteen: Molly
By the time I return to school, I’ve missed homeroom and the first half of first period. My head swirls with everything I talked about with Cassidy and Donovan. Lara’s getting suspicious and with the trouble Mike is finding himself in, is it any wonder?
I race through the empty hallways with my bookbag flailing behind me. When I get to Spanish class, Mr. Herbert is standing at the chalkboard at the front of the room. I keep my head down low and walk the perimeter until I reach my desk at the back of the classroom.
Sliding into my seat, my backpack totters over and contents spills out everywhere. With a sigh, I bend over to pick up my pencils and my Spanish textbook.
Mike pivots in the seat in front of me to help. He hands me my textbook and narrows his eyes. “Where have you been?” he whispers.
I don’t have time to answer, and I don’t exactly want him to know what I’ve been up to. I haven’t told him about the problems Lara’s been having yet. He has enough on his mind. I need to, but I want him to have a moment to catch his breath.
I flip my textbook open, refuse to look at him. Instead, I tuck my hair behind my ear and tap my eraser against the desk.
Mike’s eyes bear down on me. “Molly,” he hisses. “Did you talk to the police again? I have a right to know.”
I stare up at Mike, surprised at how worried he seems. “Of course, I didn’t. Not everything has to do with you, Mike.”
Mr. Herbert heads toward us and Mike turns around in his seat, sinking into it. The short man crosses his arms. “Do you two have something important to share with the class?”
I shake my head and Mike follows suit. “Sorry, Mr. Herbert,” Mike says.
He humpfs and returns to his chalkboard. “Now, where was I?”
Mike gives me the stink eye. “Look what you did.”
“Me?” Exasperated, I sigh and cross my legs. “It was your fault.” I won’t talk to him again even if he needles me.
He sits forward again, but I can tell from how straight his spin is that he’s agitated. I’m so mad at him I could spit. Until someone knocks on the doorway. It’s Principal Neyer with her perfect pencil skirt, high heels, and silky blond bun.
“I need both the Montgomery children.”
Mr. Herbert sighs. He throws his hands, agitation after being interrupted again and motions for us. “C’mon, c’mon. How much more of you two can I take?”
I pack my bag up quickly and hurry to sling it over my shoulder, following Mike out into the hall. Principal Neyer addresses us both and gives us the once over. “To my office at once and try to stay calm.”
I had been calm until she said that—well mostly.
Ms. Neyer guides us to the stairwell and Mike gives me a fleeting glance. He draws a shaking breath and pulls his lips together. Clearly, he’s worried. “What’s this about?”
“We’ll discuss it in my office. Let’s keep level heads.”
We walk down the stairs and Principal Neyer holds the door open for us. We step into a hallway with gray lockers and closed classroom doors. In the middle of all that is the doorway to her office. Before we enter, I catch sight of three policemen, all with guns on their hips. Standard issue, but that little fact doesn’t make me feel any better.
My stomach twists with dread and the fear multiplies as Mike stops short. I bump right into him. “What do they want?”
“Just to ask you a few questions. Please, Michael. You’re a good kid. They want to clear a few things up about last night.”
Mike resists and doesn’t move. “I won’t answer any questions without my parents here. I need my mom or my dad before I step foot in a room with them.” I hate to see him so upset. I hate that any of this has happened.
Principal Neyer gestures to the room. “Your mother is already waiting inside. We left a message for your father. I’m sure he’ll be here soon as he’s able.”
As we follow her into the waiting area, the look on Mike’s face says he’s unsure. The receptionist seated at her desk keeps her eyes on us even though she’s on the phone. Principal Neyer moves us into her office where the police officers wait.
Mom stands with the purse over her shoulder as soon as we enter. She clutches the strap so tight her knuckles are white. I notice that her face is wet; she’s been crying. “I’ll get this cleared up, Mike. I promise.”
“What—”
“Don’t say anything.” Mom speaks slow and deliberate. “Our lawyer’s going to meet us.”
Meet us? My stomach plummets at the many implications.
“We’re going to need you to come to down to the station.” The police officer looks only to Mike and I’m not sure why I’m even there.
Mike shakes his head. “I told you everything I know. There’s nothing else I can say. I’m sorry that Morgan was killed but I had nothing to do with it.”
“That’s for the courts to decide.” The police officer unhooks the handcuffs from his belt. “Turn around, son.”
They’re arresting him. Oh God, they’re arresting my twin. I feel faint as my eyes lock with Mike’s and his fear becomes mine. I see nothing more than a scared, lost boy—my brother, my best friend. We’re joined, and I know he couldn’t have done this. I feel it in every fiber of my being.
This Mike wouldn’t kill anyone. He couldn’t beat anyone with rage. It wasn’t in him. It just wasn’t.
“Are the handcuffs really necessary?” Mom asks. Her complexion has gone scary pale. “Please, he’s…he’s my son. We’ll come with you. I promise.” Mom pleads her case, one parent to another but the police officer isn’t moved by her words. “He’s just a boy!”
It’s like the officer can’t hear her pleas. “Michael E. Montgomery, you’re under arrest
for the murder of Morgan Drake. Anything…” As he reaches for Mike’s wrists, Mike lashes out.
“No!” Mike waves his hands in the air and time slows down. The police and Mom move, but at a fraction of a snail’s pace until everything stops. Even the ticking of the clock behind us slows like it moves through mud.
“Mike,” I warn. “You can’t run. If you run…”
“I’ll look what, guilty?”
“Yes! They’ll find you. They’ll hunt you and you won’t be able to shake it. It’ll follow you everywhere you go.”
“I can’t do this, Moll! I can’t be arrested. I can’t go to the station. There’s nothing I can tell them except what I’ve already said.” He draws a breath and steps up closer. “Tell me you believe me. Tell me you know I didn’t do this.”
“Of course, I know. You wouldn’t hurt someone.”
“Someone is framing me. Someone has to be.”
“I’ll find out who. I promise, Mike, but you have to go to the station. You have to answer their questions. And don’t get mad. Don’t let them see you mad.” Mike could be scary when he’s mad and I don’t want the police to get the wrong idea. He’s a boy who can’t control his temper, that’s all. He wouldn’t have hurt Morgan Drake.
Mike shakes his head. “Do you promise that I can trust you?”
I’m not sure how he can even ask me. I extend my pinky finger and offer him my hand. “We’re twins. I can trust no one the way I trust you.”
Mike wraps his pinky around mine and his lip starts to quiver. He rests his head against mine and we stand, frozen in time. I’m sure I never want to let him go but slowly, Mike backs up. “Hurry, Molly. I don’t know how long I can take this. I’m scared.”
I nod. “I’m scared, too.”
Scared, not just by him but of the consequences of events that fly my way. They come so fast, my brain hurts as the possibilities fly:
Mike’s lonely and afraid as he awaits trial only to be found guilty. He’s tried as an adult and faces life in prison and never shouts anything other than his innocence. Years pass, and I visit him, still digging into his case, still searching for those missing clues or facts that will set him free. I keep going even after getting married, even after having children, I never give up hope.
