Waking in Time

by Angie Stanton

  I nod, because I feel exactly the same.

  “And I’ll carry this feeling through whatever time or troubles I must endure ahead. I’ll always hold on to our love.”

  His words offer me hope for the future, but they also scare me. Each day I suspect I’m closer to leaving Will, and there’s no reason to hope I’ll be going home. My stomach clenches. I can’t lose him.

  Will sees my distress. “Come here.” He opens his arms and I snuggle in. The touch of his body, his strength, and his promise chase away my worries.

  He brushes his jaw against my cheek but doesn’t kiss me. His breath warms my skin. I close my eyes and graze my lips against his neck. His breathing changes and he’s less reserved than before. He trails his hand from my hip, across my stomach until he cups my breast.

  He nuzzles my neck and whispers, “There’s nothing to worry about. Tonight there’s only you and me.”

  I pull his mouth to mine, and we lose ourselves in long kisses that vow we will survive whatever time may bring.

  After so many nights spent holding back, we lie under the blanket of stars, and do what we promised we never would.

  CHAPTER 21

  I jerk awake, startled from a dark dream. Will is sprawled next to me in bed. I breathe a sigh of relief and snuggle closer.

  His eyes open and he smiles at me in his adorable way. I push his bangs back to see him better. He holds my hand to his face and kisses it. I take a mental snapshot. I like to think of him this way. Relaxed. Happy. Mine.

  “I love you, Will.”

  “I love you too.” He nuzzles his nose against mine.

  My smile falters.

  He pulls back. “Abbi, is something wrong?”

  “I don’t know. Something is off and I’m not sure what.”

  “Did you have a bad dream?”

  “Yeah, but I can’t remember it.” I get up, pull a brush through my hair, and try to shake off the dark vibe.

  “Is it because of last night?” he says with concern.

  “God, no! Last night was perfect. I wouldn’t change a thing. I don’t know what it is.”

  He comes up behind me and puts his hands on my shoulders. “Promise you’ll let me know if you feel worse.”

  I reach for his hand and give it a squeeze and force a reassuring smile. “I promise.”

  I go through the motions of the day, but something is different. I don’t know what exactly it is, a sixth sense, a premonition, but something is changing.

  In the late afternoon, I wait on the hillside and watch the crew boats far in the distance, skimming across the lake like skating water bugs. I’m mesmerized by the delicate grace with which they move, all created from brute strength and perfect coordination. If one person is slightly out of rhythm, it upsets the flow of the whole team. Sort of like time.

  Something in the universe has been out of sync and sending each of us hurtling through time, and we’ve been gaming the system, doing everything we can to cheat the clock from tearing us apart. But as I sit here with the Carillon Tower standing watch in the distance, I feel a rift like never before, as if there’s pressure along the fault line of time, and it’s building.

  I try to imagine finding my way without Will, and I can’t. He’s been by my side practically every day and night since I arrived here months ago.

  By the time the crew boats return to the boathouse, I can barely keep from calling out to Will as the other teams pull up to the dock. Instead, I wait for the Wisconsin team, but they let the others go before them. When it’s finally their turn to approach the pier, the visiting teams applaud the Badgers’ victory.

  There are cheers all around, and I find Will in his spot in the third seat, looking handsome, exuberant, and worn out from the race. He laughs with his teammates. The guys raise their fists in the air in a cheer. I fight not to run to him. I wait as they shake hands with the other teams.

  Will spots me, waves, and pushes through the crowd of athletes to reach me.

  “You’re a sight for sore eyes.” He kisses me quick, slides his arm around me, and leads me away from the boathouse and the crush of people.

  “Come here.” He enfolds me in his arms and I press myself to his chest, strong and solid, his rowing uniform still damp from the spray of water during the race. He tilts my face up and I lift my eyes to his, so blue in the bright day. His nose and cheeks are sun-kissed.

  “I love you, Abbi.” He kisses me deeply, reminding me of our magical night on the roof, not that I’d easily forget. My heart clenches and I’m overwhelmed with emotion. I gaze at him, unable to avoid this sense of foreboding.

  “Hey, what’s the matter?”

  I force a smile. “Nothing. Just still feeling kind of off.”

  He squeezes my hand. “We can’t have that.” He cups my hands in his and gazes into my troubled eyes.

  I draw a deep breath and try to get a hold of myself. There’s nothing I can do to explain this feeling. I don’t want the poor guy to worry, so I say, “It’s nothing. I’m just being silly.”

  “And that’s okay. If you don’t mind waiting while I finish up with the team, I’ll walk you back.”

  “I’d like that.”

  I return to the boathouse with him and wait on the bank nearby as he works with his teammates on the boat. The guys are still happy about their victory, patting each other on the back. Will looks over often, checking on me.

  When the work is done, he walks toward me with a few of the guys and waves them off. The guys see me sitting there with the top buttons of my blouse undone, my sleeves rolled up, and my long hair flying in the breeze. I may wear the clothing of the time, but with a twenty-first century flair. I must look like a loose woman to them.

  “Are you going to leave your girl long enough to join us at Eddie’s stag party tonight?” one says.

  “Yes, I’ll come by for a bit, but trust me, fellas, Abbi isn’t just any girl,” he replies with a devilish grin and winks at me. “She’s the girl.” I feel warm and happy inside but bite back a proud smile, not wanting his rowdy crewmates to see me blush.

  The guys give teasing hoots and hollers as they wander down the path toward the dorms.

  Will holds out his hand and helps me up from the grass. “Will you be okay if I go?”

  I realize then, he’d cancel everything if I asked him to. “Absolutely, as long as you’ll still be back tonight.”

  “Yes, of course,” he says, then adds with a whisper into my ear, “A team of wild horses couldn’t keep me away.” He slides his arm around me and we walk, our steps in perfect sync.

  “Have a great time, but don’t get too crazy,” I tease Will, squeezing his waist as we walk. It’s 1930. How much trouble can a bunch of crew guys possibly get into?

  * * *

  On the way back to my room after dinner, I peek into my mailbox, expecting to see its hollow interior as usual. But this time, when I open it, I’m shocked to find a thin, pale blue envelope. I snatch it out and look at the return address.

  “Ruby!”

  Hugging the letter to my chest, I race back to my room and hop onto my bed to tear it open. Meticulous, graceful cursive loops cover the page.

  Dear Abbi,

  I hope this letter finds you well. You have probably left school by now, but it is my hope that your mail is forwarded.

  My apologies for not having written sooner, but I wasn’t permitted outside communications while at the convent. Yes, I said convent. My loathsome stepmother delivered me directly to a convent in Chicago that takes in girls like me.

  As terrible as it sounds, most of the sisters were kind. The difficult part was not being able to reach Walter. Twice I tried to mail a letter to him, but the Mother Superior found out, which meant more penance time for me.

  My son was born July 17th. He was the most beautiful sight I’ve ever seen. I wa
s only allowed to hold him for a few minutes, but I’ll cherish that time for the rest of my days. I begged the nuns to let me keep him, but they insisted that a child created in sin would forever carry a stain, and that I wasn’t allowed to keep him under any circumstance. I wept when they took him away and have not stopped crying since.

  The attending physician said that the baby will be placed in an orphanage until he’s adopted, but he did allow me to name him. And so my son is named for his father, Walter Colton Smith.

  I pray a loving family finds him soon and that he has a happier childhood than I had. Perhaps one day I’ll be able to find him, or him me. But I suppose that won’t be possible as his new parents will likely change his name.

  I am heartbroken.

  Walter’s father has been slow in his recovery, but he is finally back on his feet. Walter is coming to fetch me in a few days, and we plan to be married regardless of what our parents say. But our lives will always have a void for the son we lost.

  My apologies for this long communication, but I’ve had no one with whom to share my sorrows. Thank you for your kind friendship—I’ll never forget it. I hope that you and Will finally had your date. He seems like a lovely chap.

  Wishing you the best,

  Ruby

  I stare at the letter, torn between anger at the cruelty of her child being taken away and joy at the realization of what this means—Grandma, this is your missing brother! I want to shout.

  I open the hatbox and pull out the picture of Grandma and her parents, Ruby and Walter. Then I dig farther down and find the picture of the nun. I study the delicate features and sweet expression and realize the nun was Ruby all along, but with the habit and sad expression, she looked so different.

  This is my family. I pick up the letter and read it again, stopping where she wrote the name of the baby. Walter Colton Smith. Why does this seem familiar?

  I search my brain. Walter Colton Smith? I pace my room, repeating it over and over in my head. Smith is such a common name, but the only other Smith I can think of is… the professor.

  I freeze. He went by Smitty. That couldn’t have been his real first name, though. It must be a nickname for Smith. And then I recall the directory in Sterling Hall—W. C. Smith, and on the physics library plaque—W. C. Smith.

  What the? I calculate the professor’s age based on when I met him his freshman year. He definitely could have been born in 1930. And didn’t he tell me, one of the first times we met, that he was raised in an orphanage, in Chicago?

  Oh my God. Not only have I discovered Ruby’s baby—but I know him! Smitty is Grandma’s brother. I sink onto the edge of my bed in shock. And I introduced them that day in the lobby, right after Ruby’s funeral.

  I squeal and hug the letter. The professor, who has been with me from the start, is… he’s… what to me? Not uncle, but great-uncle. I picture the first time I saw him with his kind, patient eyes, so determined to help me, and how he looked younger each time until he was the sweet and gawky freshman who seemed lost in the world.

  And all that time, he was my family. Why couldn’t we have known when I was with him? He would have loved it. I would have loved it!

  I’ve finally solved the mystery of the missing baby. But now what do I do about it?

  CHAPTER 22

  The next few hours are torture as I pace my room waiting for Will. I think I’ve cracked the biggest mystery of my life, and he isn’t here to share it with.

  I trace the outline of Will’s carving on the headboard. Is he also part of my destiny? It can’t possibly be a coincidence that we found each other not once, but twice.

  Starting at eleven o’clock, I look out my dorm room window every few minutes in search of him, but he doesn’t show. By midnight, I’m tired. I’m not used to staying awake by myself anymore. I struggle to stay alert as the ticking of the clock sounds like a metronome, threatening to lull me to sleep.

  After checking the clock again, I tiptoe downstairs and open the back door to see if maybe he’s waiting, but he’s not. An uneasy dread creeps in. Something is wrong.

  At one a.m. I’m sitting with my back against the cool wall to stay awake like I used to do, when I hear it. Not one, but a spray of pebbles hits my window like a hailstorm. I jump up to look out and see Will whipping another handful and hollering my name. I wave frantically for him to quiet down, but he yells again.

  He’s drunk! Laughing in relief, I rush down the back stairs and push the door open. Will is staring up at my window and yelling, “Abbi, I’m here!”

  “Will!” I hiss frantically. “Get over here.”

  He spots me, drops the other pebbles, and stumbles forward. “Abbi, I thought you forgot me,” he slurs. His hair is messed up, and his shirt is half untucked as if he’s been wrestling.

  “You have a good time tonight?” I giggle. I’ve never seen Will drunk before.

  “It was smashing!” he says loudly and sways on his feet.

  “Shh. Come inside.” I wave him over while holding the door open so we don’t get locked out.

  Will stumbles closer. “You’re so beautiful. I love you.”

  “I love you too. Now come on, let’s get you upstairs.”

  I reach for Will, but before I can grab his arm to haul him inside, someone says, “You, there. What’s going on?”

  Shit. It’s a campus cop.

  Will makes to rush inside but trips on the step and falls to the concrete.

  The officer approaches with a stern frown, looking all business.

  “It’s okay, officer. He’s my boyfriend,” I explain as Will tries to figure out how he ended up on the ground.

  “It’s well after curfew, girlie. Time for your boyfriend to go home.”

  “Will, get up,” I beg. He crawls to his feet and straightens his torn dusty jacket.

  I turn my pleading eyes on the stern-faced cop. “Officer, he’s had a little too much to drink. Do you think it would be okay, just this once, if I let him sleep it off here?”

  The officer looks at me like I’ve sprouted horns. “Absolutely not. That would be highly inappropriate, not to mention against university conduct rules.”

  Time to try another tactic. “Will, why don’t you get back to your dorm, and I’ll see you in the morning?” I nod and wink at him, hoping he’ll get my drift that I want him to come back in a few minutes.

  “I don’t want to go to my dorm. I want to stay with you like I always—”

  I clap my hand over Will’s mouth and shrug at the officer like Will is talking nonsense.

  He’s not amused. “Listen, son. It’s time to say good night to the young lady. I’m sure she’ll be here for you to woo again in the morning.”

  “Now see here, Mr. Officer,” Will slurs, but I stop him again, before he makes things worse.

  “It’s okay,” I say to Will. “Go back to your dorm. I’ll see you later. Do you understand?”

  He puts his forehead to mine and gazes at me with droopy eyes. “But, Abbi ...”

  Another officer appears from the shadows. Now I’m really worried. I need Will to get the hint.

  “Come along, young man. Where’s your dormitory? I’ll walk you back.” The first officer takes Will by the upper arm and tries to maneuver him away from the door I’m propping open.

  Will tries to shrug him off, but the officer won’t release him. “Let. Me. Go,” Will says with a stubborn set to his jaw. Then out of nowhere, he jerks away, swings, and clocks the police officer with a right hook.

  “Will, no!” I scream.

  The other officer reacts and tackles Will, sending them both to the ground. The first officer joins the other and they pin him. “Boy, you just earned yourself a night in the slammer.”

  Will is pulled to his feet, with his hands secured behind his back. The reality of what he’s done must be sinking in, becau
se he mumbles, “Please, officer. I’m sorry. I’ll behave. I promise.”

  “That’s right. A few hours in the clink will give you a proper attitude adjustment.”

  Will looks at me in horror. “I’m so sorry,” he moans.

  “Please, let him go. He didn’t mean it,” I plead to the first officer, who’s rubbing his sore jaw.

  “Miss, I think you ought to reconsider the company you keep. Now get yourself back inside. You shouldn’t be cavorting with men like this.”

  “Then I’m coming with,” I say even though I’m wearing Will’s baggy crew shorts and T-shirt.

  “What is it you don’t understand about curfew on this campus? You will not be accompanying us, nor will you be leaving this dormitory before morning. If you’d like me to wake up the head resident, I’d be happy to do so.”

  I back off, defeated. “No, sir.”

  They each grab Will by an arm and haul him away.

  “Will, don’t go to sleep! Promise me!” I call out desperately.

  He looks back at me in total despair, breaking my heart. “I’m sorry, Abbi!” And with that he’s dragged up the hill and out of sight.

  I trudge up the back stairwell and let myself into my room. Tonight will be the first night I’ve spent alone in many weeks. I’m not prepared for this. And there’s a painful ache in my heart as I resume my position against the cool wall and vow to stay awake.

  CHAPTER 23

  Bright sunlight streams across my face and the soft thump of distant country music coaxes me from the depths of slumber. I can’t even open my eyes as my body slowly wakens, as if from a long hibernation or a coma. It’s as if I’ve been sleeping like the dead. Gradually, bit by bit, I gain consciousness. My fingers caress the bumpy stitches of Grandma’s quilt, and then I realize I’m hearing a Carrie Underwood song. Something about that strikes me as wrong.

  I think of Will and my eyes spring open. I roll over and see Jada asleep with her Beyoncé poster over her bed.

  “No!” I cry. This can’t be happening.