Waking in Time

by Angie Stanton

  “And there’s me. Don’t forget that.” He touches his nose to mine.

  “I could never forget you.” I touch his cheek and his eyes soften. “Heck, I wished on a star one night, ‘Please send me back in time several decades to meet a cute farm boy,’ and ta-da! Here we are.”

  “So it’s your fault I’m traveling through time. You couldn’t get a date, so you had to search this far back to find one?” He winks and kisses my hand.

  “Hey, I don’t believe you’ve ever technically asked me out.”

  “I broke into a bell tower for you. That’s pretty original, if you ask me.”

  “That’s breaking and entering, not a date.”

  He laughs. “Well, perhaps I’ll have to do something about that.”

  “Perhaps you will.”

  Will leans forward and captures my mouth. He trails his fingers along my arm, giving me goose bumps. I place a hand on his chest and feel his heart beating powerfully. I curl my other hand around his back.

  The touch of his mouth and taste of his kisses are like being transported to a home I never knew existed. Our legs brush and soon become linked when his knee slides between mine.

  I lose all track of time as his fingers caress my shoulders and his lips lay kisses on my eyelids, my neck, and my earlobes. His breath warms my skin, and we dissolve into a tangle of clothing and limbs, hands and lips exploring, yearning. I draw in his intoxicating scent and press my body closer, feeling happier and more content than ever before. It’s as if he’s opened up my soul and holds my future in his hands. Breathless, we finally force ourselves apart.

  Will rolls onto his back and looks at the ceiling. “If I were a gentleman, I’d throw myself out. But considering our peculiar circumstances, I think the best I can do is try to keep my hands to myself for the remainder of the night.” He crosses his arms against his chest.

  I silently groan my protest as he moves a few inches farther toward his side of the bed.

  “We don’t want to end up in the same situation as Ruby and Walter,” he says, looking at me sideways.

  “Oh my God! Can you imagine me showing up in the 1800s, alone and pregnant?” The thought is terrifying.

  He turns to face me. “We can’t let this get out of hand. I’m sorry I crossed the line. I won’t let it happen again.”

  “The hell you won’t!” I inch closer and curl into the crook between his arm and his side. With my mouth near his, I murmur, “We’ll just be very good at self-control.”

  CHAPTER 20

  Someone is smoothing my hair away from my face. My eyes flutter open to see Will gazing at me.

  “Good mornin’.” His voice is low and husky and hums through his chest where my hand rests.

  I lift my head from his shoulder where I snuggled in last night. “Good morning.” We ease away from each other.

  “We made it another night,” he says as if it’s a triumph.

  A knock sounds on the door. We freeze.

  “What do we do?” I look at him stretched out contentedly on my bed in all his masculine glory.

  “Ignore it?” he whispers.

  The knock sounds again, louder. “Abigail, are you in there? I have some forms you need to sign.”

  “That’s my resident advisor. I’d better answer. Quick hide.”

  “Where?”

  My eyes dart around the room. Mildred’s side is totally vacated, leaving few options for cover. “Closet or under the bed. Pick your poison.”

  He dives for the tiny closet, climbing behind the hanging dresses. I push the clothes back together and tug the cloth curtain closed, hoping his big feet don’t peek out.

  “I was just getting dressed,” I say, opening the door to the RA peering back at me through thin wire-rimmed glasses.

  She stares at the baggy crew T-shirt and sweatpants I’m wearing like it’s scandalous. Apparently girls don’t wear guys’ clothes too often in this era.

  “You have something for me?” I prompt.

  “Yes, of course. You never handed in your resident hall discharge papers, or are you staying for summer session? Paperwork was supposed to be turned in last week.”

  “I can stay for the summer session?” This will help solve the problem of having to move out at semester’s end.

  “Of course, but you need to fill out the attached card and return it to the office right away.” She hands me the paperwork.

  “Thanks. I’ll get right on that.” I close the door and go to the closet, pushing back the hangers to reveal my handsome secret roommate with his hair all askew. “Did you hear that? We can stay for the summer session!”

  * * *

  Later that day we squeeze into a phone booth in the Memorial Union lobby. The tiny room is an oak cabinet with glass doors and a small built-in bench to sit on. It’s a tight fit, but neither of us mind. I let Will take over since I have no idea how phones work in this time. To him these are modern, but at least still familiar.

  “May I have the long distance operator, please?” He holds the phone between us so we can both listen in.

  “Please hold while I transfer your call,” a woman with a pinched voice says. We wait nearly a minute, listening to different clicks before a new operator’s voice sounds through the receiver. “What city, please?”

  “Lodi, Wisconsin,” Will says.

  “One moment.”

  But it takes a lot longer than that. While we wait, I admire how Will’s brows and lashes frame his eyes. I want to reach out and touch his narrow nose that leads to his mouth… that leads to his kisses.

  He catches me staring and raises an eyebrow and the corner of his mouth into a knowing smirk.

  “Does it always take this long to make a phone call?” I ask, blushing and pretending I wasn’t caught checking him out.

  “If it’s long distance, it does. How does it work in your time?”

  But before I have time to explain that the only phone booths I’ve seen lately were on Doctor Who, a new voice comes on the line. “What party, please?”

  “The last name is Phelps. Miss Ruby Phelps.”

  After a pause, she replies, “There is no Ruby Phelps. I have a George Phelps.”

  Will looks at me for confirmation. I have no idea what her father’s name is but nod anyway.

  “Yes, George Phelps, please.”

  “That will be ten cents,” the operator says.

  Will hands me the receiver and fishes in his pocket for change. He drops a dime into the phone.

  “Connecting you now.”

  We hear more clicking and then other strange ringing noises, which sound nothing like phone calls of my time. Suddenly I’m nervous and excited to talk to Ruby.

  “Hello?” a woman answers.

  Will urges me to talk. I suppose having a young man call for Ruby might not be the best idea. I lean in to the mouthpiece. “Hello, may I speak to Ruby, please?”

  There’s a long pause. “Ruby is away at school.” The woman says guardedly. I’m sure it’s her horrible stepmother.

  I look at Will and he frowns. What can I say to convince her to put Ruby on the line? “Actually, I’m a friend of Ruby’s from school. I’ve been worried about her, and I just want to hear how she’s doing. I promise it won’t take more than a minute.”

  “Ruby is not at home. Don’t call here again,” the voice is flat and unyielding, and my heart breaks to know that Ruby was raised by this awful woman.

  “Wait! If she’s not at home, where is she?”

  There’s another pause before the irritated voice responds. “She’s taking care of her aunt, who’s fallen ill.”

  “Please tell her that Abbi called—” The line goes dead before I can finish. Will takes the receiver and hangs up. We open the door and stumble out of the cramped booth.

  “Do you believe she went
to care for an aunt?” he asks.

  I shake my head. “I think that’s code for ‘we sent her away so she won’t shame our family.’”

  “This is awful. I wonder if Walter knows what’s happening?”

  Oh, Ruby, where are you?

  * * *

  Will and I are nearly inseparable. It’s like he’s always been in my life. Because we’re in summer school, each taking two classes, there’s always homework. Will is a voracious learner, and while part of me wants to blow school off since my time here is temporary anyway, the other part embraces sharing this everyday college experience with him. This is what I’m meant to be doing… just not in this century.

  Most days we settle a blanket on the grassy hill near the observatory and open our books. Will, with a blade of grass between his teeth, will lose himself in chemistry or calculus. He usually has his leg pressed against mine or one hand finding its way to my hair, winding his fingers through it while reading. Neither one of us seems willing to break the connection.

  Sunny afternoons are spent overlooking the lake or borrowing bikes from Hoofers and pedaling down the cinder path to Picnic Point. Sometimes we hike, other times we wear swimsuits under our clothes and hang out on the beach. My swimsuit is a one-piece periwinkle number made of wool. It’s not the most stylish, but Will loves to see me in it.

  On a particularly gorgeous June day, we lie in the warm sun after playing in the water. Will moves a chunk of damp hair from my shoulder and kisses the tattooed star on my hot skin. That’s all the hint I need. I nudge him onto his back and plant light kisses on his bronzed skin, letting his chest hair tickle my cheek. I lay my hand on his flat stomach, his muscles tightening at my touch. “Guys in my time would die for abs like yours.”

  He raises an eyebrow. “Why’s that?”

  “It’s all about having a six pack.”

  “A what?”

  “Like a six pack of beer bottles lined up in two rows.” I lightly tap each of his ab muscles. “Guys work out like crazy to get muscles like these.”

  “Hmm. I can’t imagine why they’d care what their stomachs look like, but maybe they should try the crew team,” he says with amusement. “What else do guys in your time do?”

  “Well, some of them pierce their ears and wear earrings.”

  “Like the women of your time do?” He pulls back, appalled.

  I giggle. “Sort of, but it’s a masculine thing. Some guys shave their chest hair.” I run my fingers up over the sprinkle of blond hairs on his chest. “And some only shave their faces once in a while so it always has scruff.”

  “Let me assure you, I don’t care what men do in the future, I will not be wearing earrings or shaving my chest. You’re woman enough for me.” He slips his arm around my waist and pulls me into a kiss.

  * * *

  One Saturday night, we catch a Marx Brothers movie called Animal Crackers at the Orpheum on State Street. It’s a beautiful grand theater with ornate decor. I didn’t get a chance to see this place in my time and wonder if it still exists.

  “Hey, look, there’s a photo booth.” A large box with a curtain and sign that says Photomaton stands in the lobby. I drag Will over.

  He examines the curtained box with fascination.

  “Would you like your photo taken?” an attendant asks.

  “I reckon we would. How does it work?” Will asks.

  “Sir, you and your lady step inside and pose three different times. I’ll capture your image and have it developed for you in a matter of minutes.”

  Will turns to me with an eager smile. “That sounds swell.” He hands the attendant a few coins.

  Inside we squish side by side on the small bench and give our biggest smiles. A flash pops brightly and we see stars. For the second picture, Will slides his arm around my waist and kisses me. For the last one, he tickles my side and we’re laughing as the flash goes off.

  When the attendant hands us our strip of pictures, we lean our heads together to see our images. I realize this is the picture that I found in the tobacco tin in 1948. We look like normal, happy college students. An outsider would never suspect we are time travelers.

  The attendant cuts them apart so we can each have one.

  “Which ones do you want?” Will asks.

  I stare at the one of us right after he kissed me and realize with a jolt that we’re looking at each other with undeniable love. I choose that one.

  “I’ll take the one of you laughing, because that’s how I’ll always remember you.” He holds up the photo.

  My smile disappears. He’s already thinking of when we’ll be apart.

  “Oh, Abbi,” he says. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

  “No worries.” I pretend it doesn’t bother me.

  After a moment he asks, “What about this one?” and holds up the third picture.

  “You keep it.” I know for a fact that he’ll put it in the tobacco tin, because I saw it there. But I want to make sure that on this twisted journey, we leave a few things up to free will.

  “Are you sure? Then you’ll only have one and I’ll have two.”

  “This is all I need.” I kiss his cheek.

  * * *

  One night I walk into the room after changing in the bathroom to find Will on his stomach, studying something on the headboard.

  “What are you doing?” I ask, locking the door behind me.

  He turns around with a small jackknife in his hand and a guilty expression on his face.

  “What?” I step closer to see what he’s hiding. The window is open, and a warm breeze flutters the curtains.

  “I thought I should leave a sign that we were here, for posterity.”

  There on the headboard he’s carved the hands of a clock. I trace my finger over the fresh carving. “It was you!”

  “What do you mean?”

  “When I started school, I noticed this carving. It was worn down, but it was there.” I sit next to him and let out a sigh. “It lasts more than eighty years.” How have I not noticed that it was missing since I arrived in this time?

  “Golly, that’s a very old headboard by then. Do you mind that I did it?”

  Leaning over, I give him a quick kiss. “I love that you did it.”

  He rolls over and sits up. “Abbi, it’s such a beautiful night. It would be a shame to waste it cooped up in here.”

  “What did you have in mind?” I ask as I hang the day’s dress back on its hanger.

  “Let’s go out on the roof and look at the stars.”

  I pull Grandma’s quilt off the bed, and we sneak down the hallway, Will wearing the quilt over his head like a huge scarf, in case one of the girls makes a midnight bathroom run. Luckily we encounter no one as we make our way through the hall and fourth-story study room. We unlock the latch to the door leading onto the flat roof and burst out laughing at our successful mission. I spread Grandma’s quilt on the smooth surface, and we stretch out side by side to take in the night sky. The air is balmy, and the sky looks like someone took a handful of glitter and tossed it into the night. The moon is nearly full, but still low in the east.

  “The stars are incredible,” I whisper, silently cursing the light pollution of my time that will dim these stars.

  Will points out constellations I never learned. My knowledge only goes as far as the Big Dipper and Little Dipper. As he talks, I turn to gaze at him instead of the stars, never wanting this night to end.

  I touch his arm. “I have a favor to ask.”

  He turns to me, his eyes sparkling in the moonlight. “Anything.”

  “When you see me again, in 1961, I don’t want you to tell me about our time together.”

  Will props himself onto his elbow and takes my hand. “Why?”

  “I’ve been thinking a lot about it. If I would have arrived knowing everything that ha
ppens, it might not have happened this way. I might have somehow messed things up, and this is too important to risk.”

  He caresses my cheek with his thumb. “Not even when we meet, or how?” he asks.

  “Not even that,” I say, shaking my head firmly. As hard as it is, I somehow feel this is how it needs to go. I cup his face with my hand. Will clutches it and brings my palm to his lips. I don’t know how I’m going to survive being separated.

  “Do you know how difficult it’ll be not to tell you about our time together and what you mean to me?” he asks, serious now. “And when I see you again, all I’ll want to do is hold you and pick up where we left off.”

  Leaning forward, I kiss his lips softly. “I know.”

  “So you’re saying you think we can change what already happened? I mean, for you this already happened, but for me it hasn’t. So I could botch it up if I were to tell you everything when I see you in the sixties?” he asks.

  “That’s what scares me. Is knowing the future or past helpful, or will it make us do things we wouldn’t have otherwise done? And will that change the outcome? I don’t want to risk it. That’s what Professor Smith warned about.”

  “And, is the outcome of our futures already set? Or is it still to be determined?”

  I roll onto my back and look again at the vast night sky, feeling like a meaningless speck in the scope of the universe. “That is the pretzel of our situation.”

  “It kills me to know that you’ll be leaving.” I hear the anxiety in his voice.

  I face him. “Or maybe it’s you who leaves me.”

  Will shakes his head and sighs. “Abbi, you are everything to me.”

  He kisses me, then says, “If this were just you and me, with no Carillon bells chiming, and no time traveling, I’d declare myself yours forever and always.” He gazes at me so intently, my heart skips a beat. How could I be so lucky?

  “I love you, Will.”

  “I know.” He grins, and I laugh. “I love you too, and I’ve never been happier in my life than these past months with you.”