by Chris Lange
The secretary’s shrill voice grated on her nerves yet she agreed to an appointment for the following week. Now that her mind was made up, sooner would have suited her well, but the therapist seemed to have a busy schedule. She’d just have to bide her time. Who else in Sausalito needed a shrink as badly as she did?
Her throat eased off and she breathed with more freedom. Regardless of the amount of work, she heated up some coffee in the microwave before settling in her big armchair. Her muscles relaxed, but her unforgiving mind instantly sucked her into the memories she wanted to erase.
What if reliving pain turned out not to be such a bad idea after all? Her soon-to-meet therapist would possibly ask her to do just that anyway. Shrinks and patients definitely did it in the movies.
Fingers around the mug, she closed her eyes and let herself drift to the last time Garrett made love to her and held her in his arms. Such a long time ago.
Chapter 2
Four years ago, she fell asleep in Garrett’s arms after he proposed. Did she dream of wedding bells that night? Perhaps, because she woke at some point.
Her dry mouth needed water. Did thirst rouse her or was it the growing pressure of Garrett’s arm resting on her stomach? Her eyelids fluttered open as a soft shuffle disturbed the silence of the bedroom.
Something like a sharp needle stung the inside of her arm, and the room started to spin. At the foot of the bed, two human shadows blocked the weak glow of the moon. Garrett’s parents? What the heck was going on?
Her muscles stiffened, her limbs pinned to the mattress while her body grew heavier by the second. She wanted to get up, but moving felt like lifting a ton of concrete. Yet she felt her engagement ring slip off of her finger. The dark shape bent over her straightened up, its contours becoming familiar as her mind adjusted to the situation.
No, Daddy no, what are you doing?
Garrett’s breathing slowed down while her own respiration hurt her lungs. His arm suddenly so hefty across her belly. She blinked in an attempt to get a grip on reality, but her eyes just closed.
Trapped in darkness, she perceived the warm body against hers being rolled away. Were they taking him somewhere? She screamed his name, again and again, yet no sound passed through her lips. A frightening blackness descended on her, grasped her mind, and strangled her into oblivion.
A reddish streak brought her back at some point. She must still be in Garrett’s bed because a mattress supported her achy back and a pillow held her throbbing head. Why didn’t she sense him beside her?
Lifting her lids demanded a huge effort, and she whimpered when daylight hit her. Thick clouds lingered in the sky as rain struck the window but her moan had nothing to do with the weather. The place did.
She was alone in her old bedroom on Bonita Street. In front of her, the chest of drawers sat undisturbed. The pale yellow sheets she’d bought years ago covered her body and the T-shirt she wore belonged to the closet in her father’s house. How did she get here? Where was Garrett?
She licked her lips, panic infusing her veins. If only she could get up and find him, everything would be fine. Her joints protested when she tried to move her arms, yet she managed to stick a shoulder out of the sheet. Nothing more. What the fuck was wrong with her body?
She glanced sideways when the lock clicked and the door opened. Her father came in with a glass in his hand and a vague smile on his face. She watched him walk over, her throat hurting as soon as she attempted to speak.
“Daddy.”
Her whisper made him sit on the edge of the bed, his concerned expression raising the fine hair at the back of her neck.
“Don’t talk, Tracy, you need to rest. Do you have a headache?”
“Yes. Where’s Garrett?”
He didn’t answer and dread seeped into her blood. Instead, he held a small pill in front of her face. “Open up. This will help you.”
Maybe she should tell him to go to hell, but she hated being in pain. She parted her lips to let him drop the pill on her tongue, and she washed it down with water as he maintained the glass against her mouth.
A sensation of comfort coursed through her in a matter of seconds, relieving the strain of her aching limbs, extinguishing the pounding between her temples. Had he created a medicinal product far more efficient than Aspirin?
Weariness replacing pain, she sunk back against the pillow. “Dad, where is he?”
“Hush, sleep now.”
No, no, and no, she wanted him to answer her question. But her strength deserted her and exhaustion already engulfed her. She could only stare as he stood up and gave her an apologetic smile. You can yell at me tomorrow.”
Yell? She didn’t want to sleep, but what happened to make her father think she’d blow a gasket? Did Garrett . . . ?
Hours or days later, the beating of the rain against the window stirred her up. The headache was gone and her eyelids popped open the way they were supposed to. Bracing herself, she stretched her muscles and started to grin when no pain followed. Could she run a marathon?
A fantastic smell prompted her to sit up. Stomach cramping with hunger, she reached out to grab the plate and fork sitting on the nightstand and she wolfed down the still warm mass of scrambled eggs.
Instant pleasure filled her belly while she bit into a buttered toast, drank half the glass of orange juice, and gobbled more bread again. Satisfied, she discarded the empty plate to look for her clothes.
She’d better have a shower, but that would be wasting precious time. Chewing and swallowing the last of her toast, she threw the sheets back and jumped out of bed. Any pair of jeans would do.
She found her old tracksuit pants in the closet, along with her slippers. No time for bra or panties, who cared anyway? With a feeling of foreboding gnawing at her, she left her room and hurried down the stairs.
Which day and what time was it? Where would her father be? Hoping he hadn’t left the house, she dismissed the empty kitchen and living room at a single glance and went straight for his study.
“Dad, how long have I slept?”
He sat behind his desk with papers spread in front of him. Glasses on his nose, he looked up when her question rent the silence. “Round the clock.”
Twenty-four hours wasted, lost, gone. Long enough for her father to do whatever he planned in the first place. She squared her shoulders. “Where’s Garrett?”
“Home. In his bed, I assume.”
“Did you drug us?”
He removed his glasses and set them down on his desk with care before rubbing the bridge of his nose.
“I had to.”
“Damn it, Dad!”
Her loud curse made him wince, yet he didn’t appear to regret his action. Her pulse accelerated with the force of her indignation. She balled her fingers and banged her fist against the doorframe. “Why? Why would you do that to me?”
“Tracy, you already know why. I’ve warned you several times, but you didn’t want to listen. We made the decision for you.”
“Who’s we?”
He blew out a long breath as she grasped the doorjamb to steady her weak legs. Garrett’s mother ordered this. The dragon queen hated lowborn Americans yet that didn’t stop her from allying herself to her father.
“It’s her, isn’t it?” she whispered.
“Lady Anne certainly feels that Garrett must inherit the title and carry on the family’s traditions, but Lord John agrees with her.”
Either that or the poor guy didn’t get his say. In any case, the bitch conspired and managed to get her own way.
“How did she turn you, Dad? With a bribe?”
When he snorted at her assumption and his eyes narrowed, a cold sensation infiltrated her bones and froze her insides. Her father pouted. “She didn’t turn me, as you put it. I think Lady A
nne’s right.”
“What?”
“You belong here and Garrett belongs there.”
“How can you say such a thing? You . . . you . . .”
The knot in her throat began to suffocate her. Nostrils wide open, she inhaled loudly before glaring at her father.
“I’ll be twenty-seven in two weeks, Dad. It’s high time you realized you can’t make decisions for me anymore.”
Without waiting for an answer, she moved to activate the trapdoor. A large square in the floor opened up. She stood in front of the first step and didn’t cast him a glance when he uttered a warning. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”
“Oh, yeah? Watch me.”
“Tracy, please.”
Sure, keep on talking. The lights came on as she climbed down the stairs, palm on the handrail. Nobody on Earth would separate her from Garrett, no matter what their intentions were. She was going to London right now, wearing her slippers and baggy tracksuit, and if anyone wanted to stop her, he’d have to kill her.
She set one foot on the basement floor and crashed into nothing. What the fuck? Although she banged her head, she perfectly saw the computers blinking and the telepod at the back of the room.
Frowning, she raised a hand in front of her face. Her fingers touched something she couldn’t see, like an invisible wall. She applied more pressure, the weird barrier feeling supple and rubbery but impenetrable.
No, shit, no. She scratched at the surface with the pads of her fingers first then with her nails. She hit it with her fists and kicked it, but the unseen wall remained undamaged. The way to Garrett was shut.
Unless of course, she got her father to open it. She whirled round, climbed upstairs two steps at a time, pushed strands of hair away from her face while drawing in quick breaths, and glared at him. “Dad, what’s that thing downstairs?”
“Just a precaution. I can turn it on and off whether I’m in the basement or out, and I’ve also installed the same device in the other world. Don’t look for a way around it. You’d waste your time.”
“I don’t give a shit about your precautions. Garrett proposed and I said yes. You can’t keep me here forever so I’m going over there right this minute to marry him. Now remove it.”
“No, I won’t.”
His determined tone knocked the wind out of her. Although she felt like murdering him, emotional behavior wouldn’t work here. She needed to be smarter than her genius of a father. Yes, but how?
He hadn’t moved from his chair when she came rushing up the stairs, red coloring her cheeks given how hot she felt. He still sat there now, looking composed, but the glasses were back on his nose.
“It’s over, Tracy. You’re young. Your whole life is ahead of you and I suggest you make the most out of it.”
“So let me cross over.”
“I can’t do that.”
“Then you leave me no choice.”
She probably sounded as resolute as he had, because a concerned expression flitted across his features. Boring her gaze into his, she leaned forward to place both her hands flat on the worn desk. “If you don’t remove your crappy precaution, I’ll starve myself.”
“You wouldn’t—”
“I swear I will. Do you want me to die?”
She prayed he’d buy it. The scrambled eggs were but a distant memory, and she wouldn’t last the day without food. But he didn’t know that.
Her finger twitched when he held up his hands in a gesture of peace. “All right, all right,” he said, “I’ll make you a deal.”
“What kind?”
Gee, his brains must be set on furiously rotating wheels for him to come up with a bargain so fast. He pinched his nose. “Take some time to think about the situation.”
“I already have, Dad.”
“Have you, really?”
She took a step back as he raised his tone and suddenly stood. Brow furrowed, he crossed his arms over his chest.
“Listen to me really hard, Tracy. You’re asking a man to cut himself off from everything and everyone he knows. He’ll never see his family or friends again because of you. He’ll never get to enjoy the life he was born into because of you, and he’ll have to adapt to a different world and a different century. All because of you. So tell me, what are you willing to do for him in return?”
Her toes curled in her slippers. A wave of heat infused her whole body as the painful truth ricocheted in her mind. Was she that selfish? How come she didn’t take a second to put herself in Garrett’s shoes?
“I’ll do anything for him,” she said under her breath.
“Okay, so I want the both of you to consider the consequences and to act like responsible adults. Do you agree?”
She didn’t have much choice, did she? She knew her father well enough to feel positive nobody on this planet would possess the means to break down his invisible wall, even less so on the other side.
“How long should I consider it, Dad?”
“Give it a year.”
“What? Are you crazy?”
He uncrossed his arms, pushed his glasses up, and circled the large desk to come to stand in front of her.
“Look, Tracy. On the day you turn twenty-eight, if you’re still intent on returning to Garrett, ask me and I’ll let you go. That’s the deal.”
What was it with him and birthdays? Did he have a bad experience as a child? She gnawed at her lip while her mind went all over the place. A year or never. Twelve months of waiting for the man she loved compared to an entire life without him. In the end, the decision appeared simple.
With a heavy heart, she licked her lips. “I want to tell Garrett myself.”
“No communication until the year is up.”
“Come on, Dad, you’re not making this easy.”
“Do you imagine it’s easy for him? Don’t you think he deserves that time? Besides, he’s getting the same deal as you, and he’ll be all the more certain in a year.”
Oh, God, how would she fill her days until then? Brooding and missing him so much that tears might choke her at any given minute. Probably, yet a bright new hope made her heart beat faster.
“What about his parents?” she asked. “Oddly enough, I have trouble picturing the dragon queen examining your proposition. Even less accepting it.”
“The dragon queen?”
His furrowing brow and somewhat upset expression almost brought a grin to her lips. If only she could still smile. “You see, Dad, Garrett’s mother doesn’t look like a gentle fairy princess to me. What else do you want me to call her?”
“You can use her name.”
“Yes, but that doesn’t describe her.”
He waved his hands as though the subject better be dropped right this instant or unspeakable things might be said. “Never mind that, Tracy. I’ll talk to them.”
“What makes you think they’ll listen to you?”
“I’ll find a way.”
He sure was clever and tricky enough to subdue the shrew, but what abruptly prompted him to want to help his own daughter? He’d been against her relationship with Garrett since Gold Run. He’d drugged them both to spirit her away from London, and now he played friendly daddy? Strange.
She rubbed her elbow. “Why should I trust you? You’ve lied to me before, so how can I be sure you aren’t trying to deceive me again?”
“I give you my word.”
His word meant everything to him. Next year, when she asked him to open the way for her, he’d do it without blinking.
“In that case,” she said, “we’ll do it your way.”
“Good decision.”
He spoke the truth. Yet a year later, he didn’t remove the invisible barrier, and the way across both worlds remained shut for everyone but
him. Because she never asked him to open it.
Chapter 3
Four fucking years ago.
And now here she sat, alone at the gallery, unable to crawl out of the armchair because the recollections oppressed her too much.
“Tracy, it’s me.”
“I’m in the office.”
The back door banged shut, high-heeled shoes clicked on the floor, and Lorie appeared in the doorway. “Did you have a good weekend? How’s Johnny?”
“He’s fine, thanks. We went to Rodeo Beach yesterday and we had a fantastic day. We might go back there next weekend.”
They did have a wonderful time together, so why was she struck by the nightmare a few hours later?
“Let me know if you do,” Lorie said. “Brad and I will come with you.”
“Sure, that would be nice.”
Her assistant went for her ‘Lorie’ mug, poured herself some coffee, added two spoons of sugar, but remained standing. “What about the delivery?”
“The guys came in earlier. We now have twenty-three new pieces, though I haven’t had time to hang them.”
“Don’t worry, Tracy. I’ll give you a hand. More coffee?”
“Yes, please.”
The warm brew dispelled the hurtful images in her mind, or maybe her assistant’s friendly presence did the trick.
“Listen, Lorie, Mister Swanson called. I felt like staying in tonight, but he insisted so much I said I’d go to the gala.”
“You should. Who knows, you might grab the attention of a wealthy buyer looking for beautiful paintings.”
Like that happened at every corner. Still, she might as well make good use of her time and meet potential clients. Running the gallery sometimes demanded small sacrifices but the job was worth it.
