But not quite.
She sat on the couch a bit longer, feeling at loose ends. Now, though, the box was on her mind, and so she got up and plucked it off the dresser, then perched on the edge of the couch.
The hope chest had been part of her life for as long as she could remember, and although she knew it was a bit magical, her heart had never really processed the fact. To her, it was simply her heritage. To Ryan, it was a scientific wonder. Now, Marty tried to see it through a scientist’s eyes.
The mechanism was unusual. And if what Ryan said was true, the markings on the interior of the box had no business being present on something so old. The thing really was a mystery—and right then she wanted nothing more than to share the mystery with Ryan.
She shoved the thought away, along with the wave of sadness it provoked.
That thought was replaced by another: if the markings really could help Ryan, then maybe she should—
No. She didn’t need to help him. She didn’t owe him anything.
Frustrated, she tugged at the inset, revealing the hidden journal. Even though it was battered and hard to read, just holding it made her feel better. It was somehow comforting to touch a piece of history from someone in her family who really had made a difference, and had made it on her own terms.
Except this time, the journal felt different.
Squinting, she looked down. How odd. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but the water-stained cover of the tiny notebook seemed slightly less mottled than before. She flipped it open, and then gasped in surprise.
It wasn’t the same!
Not the words, not the ink, not anything.
What the hell was going on? How could the journal just change like that? Were there two? Had she somehow managed in all these years to never notice this one?
It was an absurd theory, and she didn’t really believe it. Especially when she actually read the faded ink of the page open in her hand:
They’ve reduced our rations again, and of course we cannot complain. I recall reading about slave labor so many years ago on Earth. Never once did I believe that in this day and age such a thing could happen. But it has, and it is my life. I don’t believe it was supposed to be like this. Something in my heart says this is wrong. And so I’m going to take a great risk and try to send a message….
The rest was too garbled to read.
Marty felt sick.
This couldn’t be real; the journal couldn’t have changed! And yet there seemed to be no other explanation. Ryan had been right: the equations and markings hadn’t originated with one of her ancestors. They’d originated with one of her descendents. Somehow, someway, one of Marty’s descendents had sent the hope chest back through time.
How was that possible?
She didn’t know, and once again she craved Ryan’s presence. If ever there was a question for a scientist…
She shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts. The chest was sent from the future to the past. She didn’t know why, but she did know that for some reason, the future had changed. The optimistic message of colonization was now replaced by a message of despair and desolation.
Why?
It was a rhetorical question, because Marty knew the answer. Her. Marty Chamberlain. She’d chosen not to give the chest to Ryan. Without it, he never figured out the answer to his antimatter issue. As a result, he didn’t win the NASA contract. Somehow another power won this new space race, and Marty’s descendants were at their mercy.
That wasn’t something that she could live with.
But what could she do? She’d already made her decision. History had already been changed.
Her entire life, she’d wanted to make a difference, and apparently she had. Oh, boy, had she ever. She’d not only had an impact on the world, she’d changed the future. And not for the better, at least not for her family. Shit.
Tears stung her eyes, and she could practically hear her father’s voice, telling her that she’d screwed up once again.
No. But what could she do?
There isn’t anything to do, a little voice inside her said.
But the little voice was wrong. It had to be. And Marty knew exactly what she had to do. She just wasn’t sure she wanted to.
RYAN STARED at the phone on his desk, still not quite sure he’d properly processed Elise’s words. “Come again?”
“I said that Marty Chamberlain is here to see you.”
“Right. Thanks. Send her in.”
He stood up, then swept a hand over his desk, knocking the collection of fast-food containers into the trash. He’d been living at the office for days now, trying to figure out what he was missing. The code in the chest took his own theories to the next logical, if highly innovative, extreme. But still, that one piece of the puzzle evaded him.
A piece that Marty could so easily share with him.
Was that why she was there?
He didn’t have long to wonder because she walked through the doorway, a large totebag slung over one arm, and her eyes looking everywhere but at him.
“Hi,” she said to the floor.
“Hi,” he said, surprised by the flood of desire that hit him. Not a sexual desire. Just a desire to have her in his life again. Forget the equations, forget the chest. All he wanted to think about was Marty. “What can I do for you?”
He indicated a chair, and she sat down, the tote bag perched securely on her lap.
“I need to tell you a story,” she said. “And I need you to believe me.”
As a conversational opener, that one got his attention. “All right,” he said. “Tell me.”
And she did. A fantastical story of changes in the very fabric of time. When she was done, he just stared at her, not quite willing to believe he’d heard what she was saying. More than that, not quite willing to believe the story.
“You don’t believe me,” she said.
He shook his head automatically. “No,” he said. “When you tell me something, I believe it.” Her eyes widened, and he realized with a start what he’d said. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I shouldn’t have said that.”
She just sat there looking miserable. “It’s okay. I deserved it. You told me that you didn’t come for the chest, and I didn’t believe you. I thought you’d pulled this whole sneaky routine and—”
“And now you know I was telling the truth?”
She nodded.
“Why?”
Her eyes went wide with surprise. “Isn’t it obvious? We weren’t supposed to have had that fight. You were supposed to have gotten the chest and figured it out and the world was supposed to turn out differently.” She licked her lips. “It’s like we’re fated to be together, and I did something stupid and screwed up the natural order of things.”
After all of that, there was no way that he could admit that he really was a little dubious of her whole story. Who wouldn’t be? Rips in the fabric of time? Theoretically possible, yes, but…
He shook his head. “Let me see the journal,” he demanded.
She complied, pulling it from the tote, and passing it to him. He took in the words, compared them to his memory of her earlier description, then swore softly under his breath.
“We can’t let that happen,” Marty said. She got up and put the totebag down on his desk. “Use it,” she said. “Solve this thing, get the contract and make this right.”
He looked in the tote, saw the hope chest sitting there in the dark recesses. She’d already opened that miraculous latch, and now the chest was propped open by a folded magazine, ensuring that he’d be able to get to the interior even if she wasn’t there with him.
The thought didn’t sit well, and he drew a breath, finally asking the one question that he’d wanted to voice since she’d walked into the room. “So, are we okay then? I mean, you and me. If we’re supposed to be together…”
But his voice faded into a whisper as she shook her head, her eyes sad. “I’m sorry, Ryan. I…I…need a little time.”
“What for? I love you, Marty. I thought you loved me.”
“I thought I did, too.” She blinked. “No, that came out wrong. I do. I guess I’m just not sure if it’s real.”
“What’s more real than love?”
He watched as her brow furrowed, etching a little vee into the space above her nose. “You know how I wanted to make a difference? Well, I did all right. I did something so stupid it messed up the universe. And then I did something else. I fixed it. Or, at least, I think I’m fixing it. I guess we’ll know soon enough.”
“There’s no guarantee, you know. Even with the chest, that doesn’t mean it will all go back to right again.”
“Please don’t say that. It has to be all right. You have to make it all right.”
He nodded. “I’ll try, sweetheart.”
She smiled, then. “Well, see? We’re both getting what we wanted. We’re both making a difference, contributing to history, all that jazz. Except I don’t feel like it’s really us doing it. We’re just doing what fate says we’re going to do.”
Her words cut through him like a knife.
“It’s not fate,” he said “It’s not preordained.”
“No? Even with the journal? How can you say that?”
He shrugged. “How can it be? If you’re really leaving me, I mean, then how can our future together have been preordained?”
She didn’t answer, but she did pause in the doorway. And when she looked at him, he thought he saw interest—and hope—shining in her eyes.
Right then, that was the most that he could ask for.
RYAN CAREFULLY maneuvered the thin piece of metal, gently prying back the inlay to reveal the secret compartment where Marty had found the journal.
Almost reverentially, he removed the thin piece of polished wood, wood that had been designed to fit so well inside the chest that centuries had passed before anyone had even known it was there. Once the piece was removed, he simply held it, not quite able to turn it over and look at the symbols he knew were inscribed there. Damn it all. He needed to look, needed to study the equations and make progress.
Marty’s words, though, played in his head. Just fate. Not really making a difference. Just playing some preordained role in the universe. Not his intellect. Not his theories. Not his work.
Damn.
His eyes drifted to the journal and a lump settled in his stomach. No matter what, he had to finish the work. He had to use the secrets hidden in Marty’s hope chest to make this work, because there was no way he was letting that future stand. Not without a fight.
Determined, he turned the inset over and started copying the equations onto a notepad. At first, he thought the answer was right there, spelled out with a simplicity that made him feel like an idiot for not seeing it himself.
And then there was nothing more.
What the—?
He turned the inset over, examined the sides, the edges. Nothing. He opened the hope chest, peering up at the lid, hoping the rest of the equations and formulas were there.
They weren’t. The solution was incomplete.
His stomach twisted. And at the same time that a cold, gray fog of dread settled over him, a ray of hope shone through. He really was going to have to figure this out himself after all.
He just hoped that he could do it in time.
AS IT TURNED OUT, he just managed to make it. The proposal was due Friday at five. Friday at noon, Ryan finally figured out the answer. And once he’d seen it—once he’d turned the formulas on their side and looked at them from a different angle—well, then the answer seemed so simple he was embarrassed that it had taken days to figure out.
He chalked it up to lack of sleep and dove back into work, determined to get the proposal in tip-top shape before he e-mailed it to NASA.
At four-fifteen, he hit Send on the e-mail, the file with the proposal included as an attachment. At four-twenty, he received an acknowledgement back, along with a note letting him know he’d hear about the results of the selection process “soon.”
He didn’t know if he could bear the waiting.
At least there was one thing he didn’t have to wait on. The journal sat on his dresser at home. He could go there, open the pages and see if the text had changed. If, somehow, Ryan and Marty had managed to make the world right again.
He damn sure hoped so, because at this point, it was out of his hands.
He hoped fate was on his side. He hoped the world had shifted back into place, and he hoped Kinsey Applied got the contract.
But that wasn’t what he wanted most of all.
What he really wanted was Marty. And no matter what, he intended to get her back.
AT ALL OF three years old, Ben’s son, Toby, was a wild child. The kid stood on top of his little plastic playscape and waved at Marty. “See me! See me! I’m a tiger, Aunt Marty! I’m a big tiger!”
Marty laughed. “You sure are! You’re the biggest tiger there is!”
Beside her, Allison laughed. “Yesterday, he was an elephant, and the day before, he was a garbage truck. That was actually pretty cool, because he cleaned the entire living room floor. Too bad it didn’t last.”
Marty smiled and hugged herself. She’d been spending more and more time with Ben, Allison and Toby, and the truth was, she was really starting to doubt herself. Every time she looked into the backyard, she saw a little boy who looked like Ryan. And every time she passed a mirror in their house, she saw the shadow of Ryan’s reflection behind her.
Had she made a huge mistake walking out?
She was beginning to think she had, especially since she may have—oh, well, just screwed up the fabric of time.
She gnawed on her lip. At least she’d tried to set it right. But even now, she didn’t know if Ryan had managed to interpret the formula. And even if he had, how could she know for certain that was the road back to making everything all right in the universe? She hoped so, but…
With a sigh, she turned to Allison. “Do you ever feel like you’re not going to make an impact on the world?”
Allison laughed, which wasn’t really the response Marty expected. “No way.” She pointed toward the playscape. “I’ve already made an impact.”
Marty looked at the toddler dubiously, then opened her mouth to protest. She didn’t say anything, though, because just as the words were about to come out, she realized how wrong her thinking was. Who’s to say what will change the world? She’d had a fight with her lover, and the world had shifted. Maybe Toby would grow up and cure cancer. Maybe one of her articles would change someone’s life. “Yeah,” she said softly. “I guess you have.”
Allison shot her a gentle smile, then crossed the lawn to gather up her little boy, leaving Marty to her own thoughts.
The truth was, she had no idea what had changed in the world since she’d joined the population. Sure, reviews of the Children’s Museum might not be earth-shattering, but maybe some parent had seen her article and taken a child who otherwise wouldn’t have ever visited the place. And maybe her article on literacy inspired someone to help an illiterate friend. Who knew? The point was that maybe Ben was right. Perhaps the world was more Capraesque than she’d thought, and maybe she really was Jimmy Stewart. Or at least Donna Reed.
Too bad she didn’t have a guardian angel. She could really use a Clarence right now. Someone who could bring Ryan to her side so that she could tell him what an idiot she’d been and make everything right again.
And then she saw the figure moving across the lawn toward her. Ryan. Her heart skipped a beat. Maybe she didn’t need that guardian angel after all. Or maybe he was at her shoulder right now, working overtime.
“I thought I’d find you here,” he said, his mouth curving up into a smile.
“I’m glad you came. I wanted—”
“Wait. Me first.”
“Okay.”
He lifted the journal. “Do you want to see?”
She eyed it uneasily, then took it from his hand. She waited
a beat, but didn’t open it.
“Aren’t you going to look?”
She shook her head. “Not just yet. There’s something I want to tell you first.” She drew a deep breath. “I’m sorry. You’re probably incredibly mad at me and it doesn’t make any difference what I say, but I wanted you to know that I’m sorry. I should never have accused you of using me to get the chest, or of telling me you love me just to get what you want.”
She blinked, then realized she was crying. Good lord, she was a bundle of waterworks lately.
“Oh, sweetheart.” He stroked her cheek, then pulled her into his arms. “I should never have waited. I should have told you that I love you the minute I knew.” He pressed his hands gently on either side of her cheekbones, then tilted her face up toward his. His eyes held no doubt. “I do. I love you. And I want you. I don’t care about fate, I don’t care about predestiny. I don’t care. I just want you, and I’ll do whatever it takes to get you back.”
She smiled, a bubble of laughter rising in her chest. “Okay.”
He squinted at her. “Okay?”
She nodded, happier than she could remember being in a long time. “Okay.” She shrugged. “You’ve got me back.”
His forehead furrowed. “Oh.”
She laughed. “You sound disappointed.”
“Not at all. I’m just readjusting. I was all prepared to fight dragons and scale mountains.”
She leaned forward and kissed him. “No need to fight. You already have me.”
He held her tight and she leaned against his chest with a sigh. Across the yard, Allison and Ben were grinning like fiends. Good. She snuggled closer, feeling completely loved and utterly happy.
“Aren’t you going to look now?”
“Oh!” She’d actually forgotten the journal she still held tight in her hand. With a little nod, she stepped back from him, giving herself room to open the book, look and—
Thank goodness!
She smiled up at him. “You got the contract!”
He shook his head. “I don’t know, actually. But I did figure out the formula. I guess that was enough.”
The Hope Chest Page 17
