Swept Through Time - Time Travel Romance Box Set

by Tamara Gill

  “We're home!” called Mr. Monroe as the front door slammed. A moment later, he and Logan came into the living room and Catherine felt the now-familiar tingle at Logan's entrance. She glanced at him and he caught her eye with a smile.

  Breathless, she turned her attention to Mr. Monroe. It was the first time she had seen him since understanding what had happened, and she was startled to see how little he resembled her own father. He was a much smaller man, for one thing, and his face, while pleasant, was not so jovial. Suddenly, she missed her father. They had always been close, despite their disagreements. How would he manage The Glen without her if she could not get back? A lump rose in her throat.

  “Did you save us any dinner?” asked Mr. Monroe, breaking her reverie.

  “You said you would eat there! But yes, I'm sure Alice has some leftovers, since she cooked for all of us,” replied Mrs. Sykes-Monroe, rising to kiss her husband on the cheek.

  “We only passed a burger joint along the way and Logan said he had a burger for lunch, so we decided to come back here and see what we could scrounge. Let's go see what Alice has for us, Logan. I'm starved!” Logan gave the ladies a collective wink and followed the older man.

  “And that means I can watch 'Heinous Housewives,'“ said Mrs. Sykes-Monroe contentedly, settling back on the divan.

  “Not me,” said Annette decisively. “I never did get hooked on it, but this is one of the few episodes I have seen. I'll leave you to it, since I won't be able to keep my mouth shut.”

  “I'll come with you,” said Catherine, rising. She had seen enough television for one evening—it had somehow lost its charm on Logan's return. She couldn't help hoping for another glimpse of him as she followed Annette into the foyer. His voice mingled with Mr. Monroe's from the direction of the dining room, but Catherine couldn't think of any particular reason for her to go there.

  “How about that dessert now?” asked Annette with a wicked twinkle in her eye. “I'm always hungry these days, and I hear the best way to avoid morning sickness is not to let your stomach get too empty.” She tried to put on a pitiful expression and failed utterly.

  Catherine giggled at her foolishness, though her heart leapt at the chance to join Logan. “And what is my excuse?”

  “You're keeping me company,” Annette informed her, loftily. “I hate to eat alone.” Catherine refrained from pointing out that with Logan and Mr. Monroe there, she would not be alone. She wondered nervously, almost giddily, whether Annette was matchmaking.

  The two men were demolishing fully loaded plates when they entered. “I see Alice found you a scrap or two,” teased Annette. “We skipped dessert earlier, but I've had second thoughts. Mind if we join you?”

  “Not at all,” answered Logan. Mr. Monroe, his mouth full, merely shook his head. “As a matter of fact, Kathy, I wanted to talk to you,” Logan continued. “About the race on Friday. The local speedway is a dirt track, not the asphalt I normally race on. It'll be pretty muddy, and the people there aren't going to be exactly—uh—your type, I'm afraid. You still want to go?”

  “Of course.” Catherine was aware of Annette's surprised regard, but refused to look at her. She thought she heard something like a snort from Mr. Monroe's direction.

  “All right, then, if you're sure. The gates open at six, and it's a good half-hour drive. We'll leave just after five, if you can be ready that early.” He was grinning now, and her heart turned over. She swallowed hard before answering.

  “Certainly, if Mother has no plans for me. I . . . I'll go ask her.” She rose.

  “You're going to ask your mother?” For some reason, Logan looked almost astonished.

  Catherine regarded him uncertainly. “She did say something about a luncheon, I believe,” she offered. He shrugged and she went out, returning in a moment, still confused. Her mother had seemed almost as surprised as Logan that she had asked. “There is a luncheon she would like me to attend,” she informed him now, “but we should be back before three.”

  Annette had finished her dessert by this time, and was making it clear by little motions with her head and eyes that she wanted to talk to Catherine alone. With a smile that she hoped would reassure her friend, Catherine stood up. “Good night, Logan. Good night . . . Father.”

  “Are you out of your mind?” asked Annette as soon as they reached the landing. “You agreed to go to a stock car race?”

  Catherine nodded. “He asked me on the way home this afternoon. I know it is probably something Kathryn would not have done, but—”

  “Probably, nothing! Kathy wouldn't be caught dead at a stock car race—or any kind of race. She gets nervous riding with me!”

  “I know. Logan mentioned something about that. I managed to convince him that I've overcome my fear of cars, and I think he invited me to the race to test me. But I truly do wish to go. I loved the few horse races I was able to attend, and this sounds ever so much more exciting.”

  Annette smiled reluctantly. “Oh, you'll probably love it. I have to keep reminding myself that you're really nothing at all like Kathy. I'm just afraid Logan is going to start realizing it, too.”

  “Would that be so bad?” She'd love to be able to tell him the truth, especially since he seemed so critical of Kathryn.

  Instead of answering, Annette looked at her thoughtfully. “You know,” she said slowly, “before the switch, I told Kathy I had a feeling about her and Logan. My feelings are never wrong. But maybe, just maybe, it was you and Logan who are supposed to get together. Hmm . . . I wonder . . .” She stared into space, obviously thinking hard.

  Catherine started to question her, but Annette only smiled vaguely. “You go on up to bed. I just remembered something I left downstairs.”

  ***

  “Forget something, Annette?” Mr. Monroe asked teasingly as Annette reentered the dining room. “Maybe another slice of pie?”

  Annette made a face at him. “I know I'm getting fat—you don't have to remind me! No, I just wanted to ask Logan something.”

  “I'll leave you then. 'Heinous Housewives' should be over by now.” He went in search of his wife.

  Logan pushed his plate away and looked up at Annette expectantly. “What can I do for you?” he asked, smiling. He wondered again how the cool, sophisticated Kathryn could have such a bubbly, outgoing, fun best friend. It was impossible for anybody not to like Annette.

  “I have a favor to ask of you,” she said with an impish grin. “Are you busy tomorrow night?”

  He nodded. “We have another meeting with that Lake Murray client.”

  “Okay, how about Thursday?”

  “No, not that I know of,” he replied, wondering what she was up to. “Why?”

  “There's a new movie, a documentary on the Civil War, that I wanted to see. I hate to go alone and was wondering if you'd come with me. I'll pay your way.” She batted her eyes in a mock flirtation that made him laugh.

  “That won't be necessary, but I'll be glad to be of service, ma'am.” He gave her a half bow from his seat. “I take it Kathy doesn't want to go?”

  Annette gave him a sideways, sly look that almost made him laugh again. “Actually, I haven't asked her. But since you mentioned it, I'll see if she'd like to come along.”

  So that's what she was up to, thought Logan. Hadn't Kathy told her that any romance was out of the question? They were practically family. Still, he had to admit to a slightly more than brotherly interest in going out with her again. “All right,” he said. “But if she doesn't want to come, we won't let her interfere with our plans, okay?”

  “Of course not,” exclaimed Annette. “It's a date, then. Good night.” She rose, still looking pleased with herself, and scurried out of the room.

  Logan sat shaking his head and chuckling for a moment, but then he grew thoughtful. Even if he hadn't known Kathy for so long that the idea of dating her seemed almost incestuous, she really wasn't his type. She'd become a slick socialite, always in the Washington gossip pages. When he went out with a w
oman, he wanted to relax and be himself, not play any silly social games.

  So why did Kathryn's face keep returning to haunt him? Guiltily thrusting away the thought, he went up to his room to immerse himself in plans for the new business complex.

  ***

  Annette came bouncing into Catherine's room before she had turned out the light. “Remember I mentioned movies? Well Thursday night you'll get to see one—with Logan!” She waited expectantly for Catherine's reaction and grinned when she blushed deeply.

  “How . . . when . . . what do you mean?” was all that Catherine managed to say. How could the mere mention of the man's name affect her so profoundly?

  “I got him to agree to take me. I was planning to ask you along at the last minute—as far as he knew, anyway—but he asked if you'd like to go. It's practically like he asked you himself!” She looked as smug as the cat that got the cream.

  “I thought you were up to something.” Catherine smiled in spite of herself. “You are as much a matchmaker as my mother. My real mother, that is.”

  “Oh, Kathy's mom does that, too. I guess they have more than looks in common—more in common than you and Kathy do, as a matter of fact.”

  “Perhaps all mothers are like that,” said Catherine. Then, curiously, she asked, “Are Kathryn and I really that different?”

  Annette considered for a moment. “I guess you could say Kathy's the cool, sophisticated type. She always knows just what to say and is never at a loss for words. And I've never seen her blush.” She looked pointedly at Catherine.

  “I suppose we are different,” she said, pinkening again. “I tend to say the first thing that comes into my head, and it's usually the wrong thing. I only hope I can continue to act her part successfully.”

  Annette sat on the bed, thoughtfully flipping the pillow over and over. “Maybe when you're with Logan, you shouldn't try so hard,'' she finally suggested.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I can't say I really know him well, but from the few conversations I've had with him, I'd say you were more his type than Kathy was. She always loved life in the fast lane, but I think he's more laid-back—the kind of guy who'd go for an old-fashioned girl. And there aren't that many left these days.”

  Catherine had to giggle. “He's not likely to find one more old-fashioned than I am.”

  “That's for sure!” Annette choked on a laugh. “Well, I'd better get to bed.” She paused in the open doorway to look back. “I've been wondering . . . Do you think that could be why you and Kathy switched? Because you and Logan were meant to be together?”

  Catherine gasped, but before she could answer, Annette shrugged and closed the door.

  Could it be true? she wondered, turning off the light and slowly climbing into bed. She had always felt there was one right man out there waiting for her, that somehow they would find each other. If that man were Logan Thorne, could the bond between them be so strong that it actually brought her forward in time? But how could Annette have known? And why, she thought wryly, did Logan seem completely unaware that any bond existed?

  ***

  A few evenings later, when Logan found both Annette and Catherine dressed and waiting for him, he felt a sudden, inexplicable lift of his spirits. Annette had said she would ask Kathy to go along, but he hadn't expected a documentary to be her kind of movie. But then, he hadn't expected her to ask to go to a race, either.

  Annette chattered cheerfully as they all walked out to Logan's car, but as he opened the passenger door, her mood changed. “Suddenly I don't feel so well,” she said, assuming a tired expression. “I don't think I'm up to sitting through a movie tonight. Tell you what—you and Kathy go on and I'll get to bed early. You can tell me about it tomorrow.” She smiled wanly at the suspicious looks she received, managing a weary little sigh with a perfectly straight face.

  Logan glanced from her to Catherine and shrugged. “Well, I don't suppose we can insist.”

  Catherine shook her head, though she looked knowingly at Annette. “I'm certain the moment you lie down you'll feel much better,” she said with a significance that Logan didn't miss.

  “You're probably right,” Annette replied, quickly turning her face toward the house. “Have a good time!” she called over her shoulder, moving briskly for one so tired.

  “I guess it's just us,” said Logan, amusement warring with doubt. Had Kathy planned this with Annette? Why? “Do you still want to go?”

  Catherine looked up at him, her eyes wide and innocent, and he felt an unsettling tug at his heart. “If you do.” She sounded uncertain, as though she thought he might refuse.

  “Get in, then,” he said, struggling to keep his smile brotherly.

  Once they were both sitting in the car, Logan turned to her. “Listen, are you really set on this Civil War thing?” he asked. “I didn't say so to Annette, but I've already seen it.”

  “Oh. Is there something else you'd rather see?” Catherine had been somewhat prepared for the historical movie, hoping to learn more about the past she'd missed, but she knew she would enjoy any movie if she saw it with Logan.

  “I heard on the radio that there's a Star Wars marathon at USC tonight. It's been years since I've seen it on the big screen, and it's one of my favorites. Would that be okay?”

  “Certainly,” replied Catherine readily. “I've never seen it,” she added, since that seemed to be some sort of criterion for enjoyment.

  Logan looked at her strangely. “You've never seen Star Wars? You're kidding!”

  Catherine could only shake her head. Had she somehow blundered again? She'd learned much about the modern world over the past few days, including two brief lessons from Annette on the Monroes' computer—a near-magical device—but clearly there were still many gaps in her knowledge.

  “I knew you weren't a sci-fi fan, but I thought everyone had seen Star Wars, at least on TV. Well, you're in for a treat. If this movie doesn't make a sci-fi fan out of you, nothing will.”

  Catherine didn't dare ask what “sci-fi” was, but she was beginning to look forward to what was apparently a classic movie in this time. But Star Wars—what a strange title.

  They drove the short distance to the university, and Catherine managed with difficulty to keep her astonishment to herself. For the first time since her arrival she was traveling over an area she had been very familiar with in 1825 and the changes nearly overwhelmed her.

  South Carolina College itself—oops, USC, now—was enormous. In 1825 there had been only 120 students enrolled here. Even Logan had to stop once to ask a passerby where the movie was being shown before turning into a parking lot near Pickens Street. Medium Street had been renamed College, she noticed, which seemed appropriate. She wished she dared ask Logan how many students attended now. Perhaps many of them were women! She smiled secretly.

  As they walked from the car to Russell House, where the movie would be shown, she caught Logan watching her curiously. Was he noticing a change in her? She longed to tell him the truth, but could think of no way to open the subject that would not sound incredible. Annette was right. He would think she was either mad or playing a prank on him.

  When the movie began, Catherine nearly forgot Logan as she entered the world—or rather, worlds—on the screen.

  The beginning words that scrolled across the stars, “Long ago, in a galaxy far, far away . . .” told her that this was not a true story—though she was not quite certain what a galaxy was. She quickly realized that the story was about a civilization that had gone beyond the flights to the moon she had read about, one that traveled between planets the way people now traveled between cities. She longed to ask Logan if such things might really happen.

  Inexorably, she got caught up in the lives of the characters in the movie, finding herself able to relate to their problems even without understanding the setting they were in. When Luke Skywalker destroyed the Death Star near the end of the film, it was all she could do to refrain from clapping and cheering out loud. No pl
ay had ever affected her like this.

  “That was amazing!” was all she dared say to Logan as the lights came up after the credits. She didn't realize that her sparkling eyes and glowing cheeks said far more, and wondered why Logan was regarding her with something like startled recognition.

  He blinked, shaking his head slightly. “Do you want to stay?”

  “Stay?”

  “They're showing all of the original trilogy tonight. I'd only planned to watch Star Wars, since I have to work tomorrow, but we can stay at least for Empire, if you want to. It's not very late yet.”

  “Empire?” Catherine knew she must sound like a fool.

  “You know, The Empire Strikes Back—the second Star Wars movie. The third is Return of the Jedi, but that won't be over until well past midnight, and I do have a race tomorrow, too.” He was regarding her strangely again, and Catherine realized that she should have known of those other films. Well, she hadn't had time to study everything.

  “I'd love to see the others—” oh, how much she wanted to “—but you really should get to bed early tonight.”

  Logan chuckled. “Sounds like I've made a Star Wars fanatic of you already. Tell you what. I have them all on disc. I'll bring them over sometime to make up for missing them tonight. Okay?” Catherine nodded happily, though she had no idea how one might “bring over” a movie.

  During the drive back, Logan was strangely silent but Catherine hardly noticed as she relived the marvelous movie she had just seen. How had they made those spaceships look so real? she wondered. She wished she could ask Logan. Annette might not know, but she thought that Logan probably would.

  “I need to stop for gas,” Logan said a moment later, turning the car into what looked like a small covered parking lot with odd rectangular boxes mounted on raised platforms. He halted the car alongside one of the tall boxes. Catherine noticed it had a black hose protruding from each side, ending in some sort of metal contraption that rested against the upper part of the box. “This place charges less for cash,” he said, opening the door. “Could you pump the gas while I go inside to pay?” Catherine looked at him in alarm. How on earth did one “pump gas”? “Ah, I don't—”