Timeless

by Alexandra Monir

  Philip looked straight ahead, his expression dark. “I hate them.”

  “You don’t—you don’t really mean that,” Michele said awkwardly.

  “Of course I do,” he said harshly. When he looked back at Michele, his eyes were pained. “I’ve always despised my uncle. He’s a vile opportunist who made no secret of his delight at being head of the house when Father died. But I tried to love my mother. I wanted to love her. How could I, though, when I saw the way she hurt my father?”

  “What?” Michele stared at Philip. “What are you talking about?”

  “I watched her as she made Father miserable during those last years of their marriage—and I was powerless to stop it,” Philip burst out, his voice breaking. “He was always infatuated with her, but it was clear she didn’t feel the same way, that she had married him out of duty rather than love. Her flirtations with other men broke his heart. And even when he had the stroke, she couldn’t show the love that a wife should. Maybe if she had, Father would have rallied. I’ll never forgive her for it.”

  “Philip … I’m so sorry,” Michele whispered. She wrapped her arm around him.

  “They want to control and ruin my life the way they did his, but they won’t,” Philip said determinedly. “I’ll be stronger and I’ll fight back, starting by leaving here.”

  Michele nodded. “I know. You’re doing the right thing.”

  “I’ll never forget the day when Irving Henry—Father’s lawyer—came to read the will,” Philip began, but Michele’s shocked expression caused him to break off midsentence. “What is it?”

  “Irving Henry,” Michele repeated, feeling a chill run up her spine. “That’s my father’s name, only backwards.”

  “That is an odd coincidence,” Philip agreed.

  Michele nodded, trying to take in this new information. “But go on. What were you saying?”

  “When Mr. Henry came to read the will, he and I both knew then that Uncle had won,” Philip continued. “You see, when my grandfather died, his will stipulated that his eldest son, my father, should inherit the majority of the wealth—but if Father died before my thirtieth birthday, then Uncle would have it all. My inheritance is in a trust, which I’m to receive in two parts, when I turn twenty-one and then when I turn thirty. Meanwhile, Father left this house to Mother and she knows Uncle controls the finances now, so she invited him to live here and sucks up to him like a leech, hoping he’ll continue providing for her in the same manner Father did. I’m just a pawn in their game—marry Violet Windsor and add to the family fortune through her dowry and marriage settlement.” Philip shook his head in disgust. “I won’t play their game anymore, and I’m sickened that I did for so long. I’d gladly forfeit my inheritance now, just to know I’m not like them.”

  Michele touched Philip’s cheek. “Listen to me. You are nothing like them. Nothing. You couldn’t be. I told you—you’re ahead of your time.”

  Philip managed a laugh. “And you’re behind your time, here in the past. No wonder we’re a … a perfect fit.” He leaned in to kiss her. Michele closed her eyes, as the feel of his lips against hers never failed to send sparks throughout her whole body. She loved the way his kisses were both tender and urgent, the way he traced every inch of her mouth with his lips as he cradled her in his arms. She felt safe and protected in his arms, yet she had the same excitement and butterflies that came with taking a great leap.

  When they had broken apart, Philip said quietly, “Father was proud of my music. I know he would have supported my decision. He was the only true family I ever had. I miss him every day.”

  Michele nodded sadly. “I know. I miss my mom constantly too. It’s like there’s always this hole in me—but remember what you said? You’re my family now, and I’m yours.”

  Philip looked at her for a long moment. “I love you, Michele Windsor.”

  Michele sucked in her breath. “You do?”

  Philip nodded, smiling at her. “You know I do.”

  “I love you back,” she whispered. And suddenly his arms were holding her tight and they were kissing passionately. Barely able to control her thoughts, Michele fell back onto the bed, pulling him down on top of her. She wanted to feel his weight on her, to run her hands through his hair and down his back. He was all she had in the world, and it felt like she couldn’t get close enough to him. And then he was kissing her neck, his hands exploring her, as she started to unbutton his shirt—

  Philip suddenly rolled off her and sat up abruptly. “I’m sorry,” he said, flushing as he tried to catch his breath. “I shouldn’t have—”

  “What do you mean?” Michele asked, hurt. “You don’t … want to?”

  “Of course I do,” he said, laughing in surprise at her question. “But we’re not married.”

  That was when Michele remembered: in 1910 anything beyond a kiss before marriage was considered scandalous.

  “But we’re together, aren’t we? That’s all that matters to me,” Michele said softly.

  Philip tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. “Michele, I want you more than you can imagine. But to … have you … before we’re married is disrespectful and dishonorable. I can’t do that to you.”

  Michele tried to imagine a teenage guy in 2010 saying those words to her, and she couldn’t help chuckling. Time had definitely changed things a lot in this department.

  “Okay. If that’s what you want. But how could we ever get married when I don’t exist in your time? I hate that there are all these normal things we can’t do or have together.” She bit her lip anxiously. “And … I’m scared, Philip. I still don’t have total control over my time traveling. What if I … What if I can’t always get to you? Especially with you leaving home, how will I find you?”

  “I promise you that I’ll never go so far where you can’t find me,” Philip said seriously. “I’ll still be here in New York, attending music conservatory. And even though Time may have made a mistake by placing us in different centuries, we still found each other—we’re together now. So I have to trust in Time. Don’t you agree?”

  Michele gazed at him. “When you talk about it, I feel … like it makes some sort of sense.”

  Philip grinned and wrapped his arm around her. “Good. Now let’s try not to worry anymore today, not about anything. Let’s just be here, together.”

  Michele smiled and snuggled into him. “Sounds like a plan.”

  That Saturday, Michele woke up to a text message from Caissie. Are you free today? Need to talk to you. Want to meet at Burger Heaven for lunch?

  Michele raised her eyebrows, wondering what this could be about. Sure, see you there, she typed back. Let’s say noon.

  As she walked the several blocks to the diner, breathing in the cool autumn breeze, she marveled over how much her life had changed since she’d arrived in New York a month earlier. She had been sure that her life was ending then—but now, with Philip, Michele realized that it had actually been the beginning of a destiny she was meant to fulfill. If only Mom were still with me, Michele thought wistfully. She ached to talk to her, to tell her all about Philip, to hear her reaction, see her smile.

  Michele arrived to find Caissie already seated at a booth in the back of the diner, her head buried in a scientific-looking book with a picture of Albert Einstein on the cover.

  “Hey, girl,” Michele greeted her. “Did I miss the memo that we’re studying for something today?”

  “Hey.” Caissie grinned. “You’ll see in a sec why I brought this. But let’s order first. I don’t know about you, but I’m starved.”

  Once they had ordered, Caissie placed her Einstein book between them on the table so that they were both staring at his black-and-white wrinkled face.

  “Okay, please explain why you brought Albert to lunch,” Michele said as the waiter brought their drinks to the table. “Science is totally not my subject, FYI.”

  “Well, lucky for you, it’s mine.” Caissie took a sip of her soda and then continued. “Oka
y, so I have to admit that even though you did have a little evidence of your time traveling that night, and even though I got caught up in your story, after you left, I told myself that there was no way you had actually gone back to 1910. You had to be delusional.”

  Michele’s face fell. “That’s what I was afraid of. But—”

  “Wait,” Caissie interrupted. “I knew you believed it, I knew it wasn’t a joke you were playing on me or anything, so I was tempted to talk to you about … you know, talking to a professional, getting help, that sort of thing. But I never did, because there was something in the back of my mind that I just barely remembered that made me wonder if you were right. You know how you can have a name on the tip of your tongue and not be able to remember it? Well, that’s what this was, and I only remembered it last night. That’s where our boy Albert comes in.”

  Caissie looked intently at Michele. “Albert Einstein believed in time travel. And what’s more, he proved that it’s theoretically possible.”

  “What?” Michele gaped at Caissie.

  “I did some studying up on his theories last night and I brought the book for you to have. Check out his Special Theory of Relativity, which was published in 1905. His experiments basically reversed the belief that time is linear and the same for everyone. They showed that one person’s past could hypothetically be another person’s future!” Caissie opened the book to a dog-eared page. “Listen. Einstein says, ‘The distinction between past, present, and future is only a stubbornly persistent illusion.’ Just like your situation!”

  Michele’s head was spinning. “Wow. I can’t believe this. I always thought it was just … magic.”

  “Well, I mean, there is something inherently magical about it,” Caissie said. “But the point is, we now know that science backs it up.”

  “So how did Einstein think time travel worked?” Michele asked eagerly.

  “It’s all in the book.” Caissie handed it to her. “But basically, Einstein proved that if an object is moving fast enough through space, it can change its passage through time. So time slows down as an object approaches the speed of light, meaning that traveling faster than the speed of light could send you back in time.”

  “But how could I be traveling faster than the speed of light?” Michele wondered. “I mean, from what you’re saying, it sounds like that would take, like, a spaceship or something.”

  “Yeah, that confused me too. But didn’t you tell me yourself that when you go back and forth through time, it feels like the speed of light?”

  “Well—yeah,” Michele admitted. “But I only meant it as an expression. I still don’t see how …”

  Caissie pointed to the key hanging around Michele’s neck. “You said the key is what sends you back, right? Tell me more about how it works.”

  “Well, it sounds crazy, but … there’s just something in this key. I don’t know what it is—but whatever scientist or magician created it put something inside that causes it to open locked drawers and doors, to move and become animated. I can’t even imagine where or how my dad got it,” Michele said, marveling. “And when the key touches an object from the past … that’s when I go back in time. But while that much is clear, I still don’t fully understand how I’m returned to the present. That part is so often out of my control.”

  “Wow …” Caissie stared at the key. “My God, can you imagine the sensation this news would cause? We could get the top minds in the world to study the key—”

  “Caissie, no!” Michele grabbed her wrist across the table. “You promised, you can’t say anything. Please. This is private. I don’t want to become a freak show here. And besides, I could never hand over the key to someone else.”

  “All right, all right. I won’t say anything,” Caissie said, relenting. “But you’re depriving the world of an amazing development in science!”

  “How do you know it would be so amazing?” Michele countered. “I mean, I’m just one person going back in time. Imagine if everyone was doing it. The whole world as we know it could be over, or at least majorly thrown out of whack.”

  “I guess you have a point,” Caissie conceded reluctantly.

  “But … since you seem so interested, and you’re my only confidante here, I’ll tell you whatever you want to know about it,” Michele offered. “And maybe at some point I’ll let you study the key—but no one else.”

  Caissie’s eyes lit up. “That would be awesome!”

  “It’s just so crazy that this is happening to me,” Michele said. “I was always the ordinary one compared to my friends.”

  “Not anymore you’re not.” Caissie laughed. “Far from it.”

  “Okay, can I confess something else?” Michele felt a giddy smile stretching across her face as she began to confide in an amazed Caissie all about her relationship with Philip.

  That night, Michele dreamt that Philip was calling out to her. “I have something for you, Michele,” he said, his blue eyes intent. “Please, come to me.”

  When she woke up, it was three a.m., but there was no way Michele could fall back to sleep. She knew it, she felt it, that somewhere in 1910 Philip was trying to reach her. And she would have to go to him.

  She got up and dressed nervously, her eyes continually darting to her mantel clock. Please, please, don’t let my grandparents or Annaleigh or anyone discover that I’m gone, she silently prayed. She pulled on Philip’s jacket, which he had let her keep, and wore her softest flat shoes, so she wouldn’t make any noise going downstairs. Once she reached the Grand Hall, she held her breath as she opened the huge front door, willing it to close as quietly as possible. Outside, she ran through the gates to the apartment building next door. Standing in front of the building, she wrapped Philip’s jacket tightly around her with one hand and clutched her key with the other. “Send me to him,” she whispered.

  And then, right before her eyes, the apartment building crumbled to the ground. Michele opened her mouth to scream, horrified by what she had done—just as the glorious Walker Mansion burst to life in its place, like an Etch A Sketch drawing appearing in a matter of seconds out of nothingness. Michele rushed up to the Walker Manison. She held her breath again, and sure enough, as she placed the key against the lock of the front door, it melded against it, and the door swung open.

  Stepping into the chateau, she heard it right away—Philip’s piano playing. With a smile, she hurried into the music room.

  She stood in the doorway, watching him, as his fingers flew over the keys, playing one of his jazzy ragtime compositions. When he looked up and spotted Michele, his eyes lit in such a way that Michele felt her face instantly growing warm, her heart racing almost as fast as the syncopated rhythm Philip had been playing. He leaped off the piano bench and pulled her into his arms.

  “You’re here!” he cried, kissing her over and over. “You heard me! I can’t believe it worked.”

  “So—you were really calling me?” Michele said breathily. “I didn’t just dream it?”

  “I really was,” Philip said. “But I’ve tried it before and it never worked. You always seemed to come to me at different times. I wonder how it worked now.”

  “I don’t know, but this is unbelievable!” Michele marveled. She pulled him to her for one more kiss. “What were you playing just now? I love it. It’s so catchy.”

  “That’s what I wanted to show you,” he said eagerly. “I was thinking of you, and then the song just came to me—the same way you did. And I want you to write lyrics to it. That’s why I called you here.”

  Michele smiled, her face flushing. “Wow. I’m flattered. But I don’t know if I can do it on the spot like that.”

  “Of course you can,” he said confidently. “It needs your words.”

  “Okay … I’ll try. Will you keep playing the song while I come up with the lyrics? And do you have a pen and paper?”

  “Right here.” Philip stood up and lifted the top of the piano bench, where music books, blank sheet music, and a notebook
were stashed. As Philip played the song over and over again, Michele sat beside him. Two words kept echoing in her mind as she watched him and lost herself in the melody: “chasing time.” After a while of Philip playing and Michele frantically jotting down, crossing out, and rewriting lines, she finally had something. She took a deep breath, then sang along to Philip’s melody in her soft voice.

  “Catch my eye, tell me what you see

  Wonder if they could guess it about me

  Here I’m standing in a double life

  One with love, one with strife

  Try to act normal and play it cool

  So afraid of breaking a rule

  But now I’m falling too hard to stop

  Can’t help but take the next drop.”

  And then she sang the chorus.

  “I can’t live in the normal world,

  I’m just chasing time

  I belong in that endless whirl

  The place where you’re mine

  So take me there, where I long to be

  Inside time’s mystery

  Upside down and it feels so right

  Take my hand, we’ll take flight.”

  “How’s that for a start?” Michele asked shyly.

  “I love it!” Philip jumped off the piano bench in his excitement and spun her around. “It’s perfect.”

  “Really?” Michele beamed. “Okay, let’s keep working on it, then.”

  And that was how they spent the late hours: writing and playing, singing and laughing. Michele realized that she had never enjoyed herself so much in her entire life.

  Philip copied “Chasing Time” and their first song together, “Bring the Colors Back,” onto sheet music, and as Michele watched him move expertly from playing the songs to notating them, her admiration for him grew even more. “You’re such a hot genius,” she blurted out, grinning.

  Philip smiled, but he seemed only to half hear her, his expression preoccupied. “Michele? Will you do something for me?” he asked abruptly.