He glanced up at the sky and noticed one thing that was different. There wasn't a cloud in the sky, where seconds ago, he couldn't see a single star. Not knowing what else to do, he kept walking toward his car.
His confusion mounted when he reached the vacant lot on the corner where he had parked earlier and saw a house and a fenced-in yard. Thinking he might have made a wrong turn in his dazed state, he backtracked all the way to the O'Neill house.
Only it wasn't there either. In its place was a two-story apartment building. Maybe he wasn't in the same location after all.
Judging by the few lights on in the apartments, he guessed his watch was showing the right time—ten thirty-five, which was about the same time as when he felt the lightning hit. It was the date that had him baffled. Please, God, he prayed, let me be in 2016 again.
He rejected the idea of knocking on a stranger's door at such a late hour to ask a stupid question. Instead, he decided to walk in the direction the cabin would be if he hadn't been geographically moved and simply hope it, and Kelly, were there. It hadn't seemed like it was that far when they'd driven the distance but his body was beyond exhausted when he finally reached the dirt driveway. Okay, he thought, at least he was in the right place.
He tried not to worry when he saw no light in the cabin. She could have gone to sleep early, he told himself then realized that her car wasn't there. Since there was no night life in Charming, he doubted she was out for the evening. Of course, there was a chance she was at her house in Atlanta. He decided to let himself in and take a look around before trying to figure out what to do next.
Climbing in the back window and finding and lighting a kerosene lamp was easy enough. It was also easy to see by the dust and cobwebs that no one had been in residence here lately.
His gaze stopped at the spot on the floor where he had last seen Kelly and his breath caught in his throat. He squeezed his eyes shut in an attempt to blot out the remembered scene. It did not happen. Kelly is alive and well. He kept repeating that until he could breathe again. When he opened his eyes, all he saw was a dirty floor.
There were so many things that had happened here that he did want to remember, however. His mind played back the highlights of the scariest, most incredible, most fun, most sexually satisfying, happiest week of his life. Every memorable moment started and ended with Kelly.
He was too tired to think about anything more that night. If he could just sleep for a few hours, he was certain he would come up with a plan of action. Thankfully, the bathroom was in working order and the owner had left some linens in a drawer of the chest. Within minutes of opening the windows and doors to let in some fresh air, he stretched out on the couch and fell into a deep sleep.
The sun was high in the sky when he awoke the next day. As he helped himself to a can of corned beef hash that had been left in a cupboard, he realized why Kelly wasn't there.
The first time he was transported, he arrived on the same day as it had been fifty-one years earlier. If that was the case again, today was the tenth of July, several weeks before Kelly moved into the cabin. That meant he had no choice but to get himself to Atlanta.
That also meant it was prior to the time they'd actually met. Now that he was rested and not too hungry, his brain began functioning again and he quickly concluded that his biggest challenge might not be hitching a ride to Atlanta. After he got there, it was possible that Kelly would not recognize him.
Suddenly he recalled her warning that such a situation might occur. His disbelief at the time had kept him from really listening so it took him a moment to remember the secret phrase she had told him to say. He shoved his hand in his pocket and confirmed that he still had her letter, even though time-wise she hadn't written it yet. Only then did he realize he still had his wallet in his back pocket.
Despite those two assists, he still had the feeling she would be resistant to a stranger trying to convince her they were lovers. Her experience with men pretty much guaranteed her being suspicious of him. Even if he handed her the letter, she might think he had somehow fabricated it just to take advantage of her in some way. Although he imagined them tearing each other's clothes off ten seconds after he found her, he had to accept the fact that he would probably have to seduce her all over again, which wasn't distasteful, just time-consuming. Like he had the first time, he would get her attention with his unbelievable but true story. He could give her the letter after she fell for him again.
That plan didn't sound so bad, he thought. After all, he was in no rush.
Jack felt it was a good omen when a trucker picked him up minutes after he stepped onto the main road to Charming and drove him to within five miles of Kelly's townhouse. He considered taking a taxi the rest of the way but he had less than two hundred dollars left of his stash and remembering the price of a cheeseburger convinced him to walk no matter how tired his body felt.
By the time he was standing at Kelly's front door, he had a strategy in mind but was praying for instant recognition.
As soon as she opened the door, he knew another prayer had gone unanswered. She had no idea who he was. But dear God, the sense of relief that flooded through him at the sight of her nearly overwhelmed him.
Kelly was alive!
His heart pounded so hard in his chest, he placed his hand over it to keep her from noticing. He desperately wanted to take her into his arms and never let her go again, but he couldn't afford to do anything that might frighten her.
"Hi," he said instead, trying to sound like a stranger. "My name is Jack Templeton and I have a very strange story to tell you."
Kelly forced a polite smile. "I'm sorry. I make it a policy never to listen to anyone else's plot ideas. I don't co-author or ghost write and I don't want to risk the chance of someone accusing me of stealing their story. I don't wish to be rude but I am working and—"
"Please. You don't understand. I'm not talking about a story for you to write. This is something that actually happened and you were involved in it."
She was losing patience with him. "Nor do I write non-fiction. I'm sorry. I'm really not interested—"
"Your attorney's name is Bruce Hackett," he said quickly. "And since he helped you get divorced from Will, he's suddenly decided he's in love with you."
She looked at him sideways. "You know Bruce?"
He hesitated. "No. Not really. But I can tell you some other things that might interest you." He sorted through his memories to choose something that wouldn't make her think he was a pervert. "You've been having a hard time coming up with a new story and someone has offered you the use of their cabin up by Lake Sidney Lanier as a sort of retreat."
She shook her head. "It's not a bad idea but no one's made that offer."
"They will. Okay, how about this? You have a Walther PPK because you like James Bond movies."
"You could have read that in one of my interviews," she said frowning. "I have to go now."
She started to close the door but he pressed his hand against it, causing her annoyed expression to turn wary. "You divorced your husband, Will, after you walked into his office and found him having sex with his secretary, even though he hadn't touched you in years."
Kelly gasped. "How could you know that? Did he tell you?"
Jack made a face at her. "That cocky son-of-a-bitch? You know he'd never admit he did anything to deserve a divorce. And by the way, he's been trying like hell to get you to reconcile with him."
"I have my finger on the panic button of my alarm system. If you don't leave right now, I will press it—"
"Who's on first?" Jack blurted out. "It was something your father used to say when the obvious answer was right in front of you. You gave it to me as a secret pass-phrase to get you to listen to me."
She stared at him for several seconds then took a deep breath and stepped outside onto the porch. "Okay, you have my attention. How do you know these things?"
"Could we sit down? It may take a while." She shrugged and sat down on the top ste
p. Before he joined her, he took his wallet out of his back pocket and handed it to her. "Please look through that and check the birth date on my driver's license."
"There's something familiar about your name but there's no picture on this," she said before reading the birth date.
"Licenses didn't have photos on them when that one was issued."
She squinted at the small print. Her voice was heavy with sarcasm after she read it. "You want me to believe this is your license and that you were born in 1930?"
"Yes. Keep looking."
She checked his various pieces of identification, thumbed through the old ten and twenty dollar bills then glanced at the photos.
Jack held his breath as he waited for her to see it and when she did, her wide-eyed stare let him know it did the trick.
"Who is this?" she asked pointing at the photo of him and Ginger at the beach. The bathing suit she was wearing gave a good hint to the time period.
He pulled the photo out of its plastic case and showed her the handwritten date on the back—6/3/65.
"Am I related to her?"
"Indirectly," he said, avoiding a lie. "Her name is Ginger O'Neill."
Her mouth dropped open. "You're kidding! I was just—Now I know why your name sounded familiar. Wait here!" She jumped up, went inside and came back out with a folder full of papers. It took her another few seconds to find what she was looking for. "I guess I couldn't see the likeness because of how grainy it is." She showed him an article that contained a photo of Ginger O'Neill.
It was coverage of Ginger's murder and the arrest of her husband and the two Rameys. Jack skimmed the article until he came to his name. "This part isn't true," he said. "This suggests that the Klan had something to do with my disappearance."
"Your disappearance?"
"Yes, mine. I'm that Jack Templeton." He could see she didn't believe him but then, she hadn't believed him immediately the first time either. He began by telling her a little more about how she came to be at the cabin and went forward from there. By the time he got to the point where they had lunch at O'Neill's, an hour had passed and she invited him in for a cup of coffee.
Because she started asking questions about details, it took him another hour to bring his tale up to date. The only part he left out was how their personal relationship had developed. His instincts told him that would bring an end to the game before he ever got back on first base.
"Wow," Kelly said after he told her about the lightning bolt striking him. "That's some story. In fact, I wish I'd made it up so I could use it for my next suspense."
"But it is your next suspense," Jack insisted. "After I showed up, you decided to add a paranormal twist to your book. And, by the way, while I was spelling it all out, I thought of a way I can prove it to you. Remember the private investigator I mentioned, Evan Dillard? You could take my fingerprints to him and ask him to verify who they belong to."
"I hate to be so skeptical but you could have paid him in advance to say whatever you want. Besides, if you really were around in the 1960s and you were never arrested, would you even have prints on file anywhere?"
Jack's shoulders slumped. "No. I hadn't thought of that."
"Look, as much as I've enjoyed being entertained, a chunk of my work day is now gone and you never actually got around to telling me why you're here."
"I... I had nowhere else to go. I was hoping you'd somehow recognize me. Without that, I guess I was thinking you could give me some advice. Whether or not you believe what I've told you, I have a real problem. All I have are the clothes I'm wearing and the money in my wallet. It's going to be tough finding work without believable identification or references but I'm sure I'll figure something out."
He rubbed his forehead and another thought came through. "You once told me you knew of someone who could fabricate proper documentation, like a birth certificate and social security number. Do you still have that contact?"
"Yes, and I'm pretty sure he still does that, but he was very expensive."
"And I have no money." He sighed. He wondered if Carl Hastings was still alive and what he would think if he showed up on his doorstep and asked for help fifty-one years after it had been offered. He sighed again. "Well then, maybe you could tell me if there's a YMCA or really cheap motel where I could stay until I get reoriented."
"Sure," she replied with a smile. "In fact, I'll give you a ride."
"In your black Camaro."
She nodded and was about to say something about his knowing that too, when the phone rang. She went to the kitchen to answer it. A few seconds after the conversation began, she gave Jack a peculiar look and turned her back so he couldn't hear what she was saying. When she returned to the living room, her expression was one of bewilderment.
"That was my editor," she told him. "She called to tell me about someone she knows who has a cabin by Lake Sidney Lanier. She said I was welcome to use it if I wanted to get away from the city for a while. She swore you didn't put her up to it and I know she wouldn't lie to me."
Jack sent up a silent prayer of thanks for the timely intervention. "I hope you turned it down."
"I told her I'd think about it." She slowly lowered herself back down onto the couch. "Is there anything else coming up that I should know about?"
He had to fight the urge to tell her. "I'll let you know if I remember anything else."
"Something you said during your story gave me an idea. Partly because of the harassment of the two men you mentioned, but also a few incidents at book signings, I've been seriously considering hiring a bodyguard. It would really only be for show, nothing dangerous, and you look like you could discourage someone from bothering me if you set your mind to it. Also, I could actually use a research assistant and proofreader, especially if he was an experienced journalist."
She stared into his eyes for several seconds before continuing. "What I'm about to suggest is definitely risky on my part, but my instincts are telling me that despite your totally impossible story, I can trust you. How do you feel about working as a bodyguard slash research assistant slash proofreader? And since you claim to have nothing, the job could include room and board... as long as you understand I am not personally part of this proposition. I do have a Walther and I'm not afraid to use it."
"It's a deal," he said, with a broad grin. "And as your new bodyguard, I have a suggestion that should put a quick end to Will and Bruce's harassment. Tell them both, bluntly, that you met me a few months ago when you were interviewing for a research assistant. You hired me then we started dating. Before long we got serious and exclusive. Now we decided it was time for me to move in with you. Convince them we're a regular couple, nothing out of the ordinary to give them cause to question your sanity. Convince them you are happily off the market. Of course, if one of them comes by, we'd have to be affectionate. Would that be okay?"
She bit her lip and blinked several times before saying, "Oh. Of course." A moment later she added, "Actually that might work."
He grinned again. "It did the first time."
That made her frown. "I can't tell when you're kidding."
"Don't worry, you'll figure it out soon enough. Meanwhile, if my plan works, I know what I want for a bonus."
She added a raised eyebrow to the frown. "What?"
"Once in a while you allow me to use your whirlpool tub."
Her eyes widened with surprise and her cheeks flushed. "How do you know—" She shook her head. "Never mind. But since you brought up a bonus, there's one I want if this arrangement works out for you. I want your written permission to write that story."
"Deal."
* * *
As Kelly settled into bed that night, she wondered if she had completely lost her mind. Will and Bruce would surely think so... unless she acted on Jack's suggestion. Then they'd just be sore losers. Darren, of course, would send her a congratulatory bouquet. Connie would just be happy she'd been inspired by a new story idea.
Even if she did have the strong
feeling that Jack could be trusted, she shouldn't have invited him to stay in her guest bedroom. And yet the offer had come out of her mouth as though it were perfectly reasonable. Practicality had caused her to lock her bedroom door but it would hardly keep him out if he was intent on getting in.
She never ignored her intuition anymore and it now told her she was safe with Jack Templeton... something she'd never felt with Will or Bruce.
At least she hadn't admitted to him that when she'd looked through the peephole, she felt pleased to see him, as though she knew him but hadn't seen him in a while. That was why she'd opened the door without hesitation. But then she couldn't place him. And the whole time he was talking, she had the feeling she'd heard his voice before, saying some of the same words. But she couldn't pin that down either.
The weirdest part was, as crazy as his story was, she felt nothing but honesty coming from him. True or false, he fully believed what he was saying. And though that could make him a compulsive liar or out-and-out sociopath, and the story itself required a complete suspension of reality, she was unable to dismiss the possibility that he had actually traveled through time and changed history.
Before she fell asleep, she promised herself that if Jack Templeton made one wrong move, even one ungentlemanly advance, she'd throw him out on his sexy butt.
* * *
Right after breakfast the next morning, Kelly decided to go with Jack's suggestion for handling the two men vying for her attention. Her first phone call proved Jack had been at least half right. While she had been trying not to hurt Bruce's feelings, the blunt I-have-a-live-in lover announcement was what he really needed to hear. Will, on the other hand, would undoubtedly need more convincing.
She called her ex at his office, knowing he would be unable to have a lengthy personal conversation, and informed him of her new relationship status, "out of courtesy", so he wouldn't hear about it from someone else.
After she hung up, she told Jack, "He'll probably drop by after work with some lame excuse. But it'll really be just to see if I was making it up."
Out of Time (Lovers in Time Series, Book 1): Time Travel Romance Page 29
