The Hope Chest

by Jacquie D'Alessandro

  And he’d modified a machine so that not only could it blast away dirt but it could suck the dirt outside. She couldn’t help but admire his determination as well as his ingenuity. The air in the chamber remained clean and she marveled at both his inventiveness and the steady determination with which his powerful arms held the hose. She realized how lucky she was that it had been him who had come back in time.

  As he brought each new area to light, she sketched, scanned, catalogued, holophotoed and entered data into her computer. She took only one break, to check on Terry in her quarters, who appeared weaker and sicker than before but was determined not to be a burden. Even if Terry had been up to making the trip, the overflowing hospitals were no longer accepting new patients.

  “The doctors aren’t holding out much hope,” Terry told Sara the latest news, her tone gloomy. “They haven’t seen anything like this before. Apparently the double X chromosome of females simply breaks down. Babies and old women are now dying, and when Kendar checked in on me over the communicator earlier, he told me why. He explained that he comes from the future and—”

  “Rest,” Sara cut in. She propped a pillow behind Terry’s head, wondering exactly how sick she would get. She already liked the girl and fretted how little she knew about doctoring the sick.

  Terry clutched her hand with a strength that stopped Sara from leaving. “I want to volunteer.”

  Was Terry out of her head with a fever? Sara placed a hand on her forehead. The girl did seem a little warm and she handed her a glass of water. “Volunteer for what?”

  Terry sipped. “Kendar says you need to balance the time continuum.”

  “You’re in no condition to help, but I appreciate the sentiment.”

  Terry shook her head. “To create balance for Kendar’s coming back—you have to send someone forward. That’s what Kendar told me. And I want to be the one to go.”

  Stunned by Terry’s request, Sara rocked back on her heels. She hadn’t thought that far ahead. “It’s an alien machine. That means we don’t know how it works. Even if I can learn to read the directions, I can’t guarantee your safe arrival.”

  “Staying on Mars at this time isn’t safe, either.” As if sensing Sara’s next protest, Terry held up her hand. “Do you realize if the machine works, I’ll be the only woman in the future on a Mars filled with men?”

  “And that appeals to you?” Sara didn’t know if Terry was stupid or brilliant or feverish and cracking a sick joke, but she sure seemed serious—and dead certain.

  “Here, I’m no one special. I never finished my schooling and anyone could do my job. I’ve never been very strong or healthy either. What I really need, and all I ever wanted, was to find a man—”

  “Which shouldn’t be difficult considering the man/woman ratio,” Sara stated with a dry chuckle.

  “But if I’m the only woman on Mars, I’d be treated like a queen. It’s a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.” She shrugged sadly. “In fact, it may be my only chance at life. And you need someone to go to the future. Why can’t it be me?”

  As Sara returned to Kendar and the chamber, Terry’s request reverberated in her head. To balance the time continuum, it seemed to her that Kendar, not Terry, needed to return to the future. Sending Terry might throw the time line further out of whack. And yet, the idea of Kendar staying here with her held its own appeal.

  She hadn’t known him long, but in less than one revolution on Mars, he’d made exquisite love to her, revealed unusual patience and creativity and convinced her of an impossible scenario. The man had intelligence and a great body, all wrapped in one supersteamy package. Damn—the uninhibiting side effects of the drugs must be knocking her good sense into a feedback loop. She couldn’t stop thinking about him when she really needed to be focusing on work.

  Terry’s request was moot at this point, at least until Sara spoke to Kendar and had some idea of how the machinery worked. She entered the chamber disappointed to see that Kendar had uncovered no more of the relic. He’d taken off his shirt and squatted next to the pump, wrench in hand.

  “An O-ring broke. I’ll have to pull out the pieces and find another.”

  “Thanks.” She placed a hand on his shoulder. “I don’t know what I’d do without your help. Are you a mechanic?”

  “I’m a womanologist.”

  “Huh?”

  “A womanologist studies women, but I’ve always been good with my hands.” He smiled, letting her know that his double entendre was deliberate, reminding her exactly of how he’d touched her and stroked her.

  “And what did you think of Terry?”

  “She’s not special like you.”

  He’d misunderstood her, but good answer. If she had only one week to live, she was glad to spend that week with Kendar—she wished only that she needn’t spend all of her time working and could spare some for more lovemaking.

  Enough. She picked up a brush and headed to the pictographs. Maybe digging would take her mind off how yummy Kendar looked with that wrench in his hand.

  KENDAR FIXED the O-ring problem and went back to work, clearing debris from the machinery. He’d hated telling Sara the truth about her role in activating the machine, and her pain touched him deeply. She was everything he’d read about her—smart, warm and adaptable—but so much more. He sensed a depth to her, a mixture of emotions that ran the gamut from playful and adventuresome to responsible and determined. He had no doubt that she’d give her all to finding a solution, but if she failed, she would die. And if she succeeded, he’d have to return to his time.

  Either way Kendar would lose her.

  He told himself he’d live a far richer life for having known her, but that didn’t relieve the ache in his heart. Or the sadness swelling a lump in his throat. Could a man fall in love in one day? He’d read of instant chemistry, of love at first sight, but he’d thought these concepts of storytellers and poets and dreamers. Yet, his feelings for Sara ran strong as the Martian sunlight and just as hot. And like a star going supernova, this shiny new feeling was about to explode in his face.

  Kendar gripped the nozzle tightly, blowing away an eon of erosion, grateful for the noise of the pump that prevented conversation. He needed time to regroup. Perhaps a man more accustomed to love might know how to accept the loss better than he did. He hadn’t expected loving to hurt.

  On edge, he worried about Sara, too. She seemed to work at a frenetic pace, her expression tight, her shoulders tensed. When he finally uncovered the last pictograph, she was busy capturing the data, and he took the opportunity to clean up in the fresher. When he returned, she stood in the exact spot where he’d left her.

  He joined her, gently placed his hands on her shoulders and began to knead the knots. She tilted her hand back. “Mmm. That feels wonderful, but I should be giving you a massage. You must be dead tired after all that hard labor.”

  “It’s kind of you to think of me, but I’m fine.” Even weary from work, she looked beautiful. But she was pushing herself so hard that he worried about distracting her, then wondered if a distraction to lighten the moment might be exactly what she needed.

  In the end, he simply couldn’t resist her. Taking her tools, he set them down. “I know we should work, but I want to kiss you, again.”

  She instantly turned and faced him, then wound her arms around his neck. “We can take a break.” And he delighted at her unhesitating response.

  Her gaze had brightened from a moment before and he liked lightening her mood. “Good. I’m starved. What else is there to eat around—”

  She tugged down his head and kissed his mouth. Stars, she smelled good. Felt better. As she pressed her sensual curves against him, he gathered her into his arms, wanting to give her comfort and companionship. He’d never realized that kissing wasn’t simply foreplay to lovemaking but that kissing Sara could be so satisfying in and of itself.

  Perhaps it was the way she gave of herself, or threw herself so wholeheartedly into the gesture, sweeping him awa
y as if she had no other thought except desire for him, but, one moment he’d been tired, and now all he could think about was loving her again.

  Marveling at how right it felt to hold her, how wonderfully her curves molded to him, he tightened his arms and deepened their kiss. She responded, parting her lips, beckoning, welcoming, drawing him deeper.

  Her kiss elevated his pulse and stirred protective emotions he hadn’t known he had. Wishing he could wrap her up, carry her away and tuck her someplace safe where they could escape from their problems, but knowing he couldn’t, he instead put himself wholeheartedly into the kiss. He might not be able to solve her problems, but for a moment he could chase them away, give her a break from the relentless pressure on her slender shoulders.

  Her kisses, as enthusiastic as his, fueled his certainty that destiny had arranged for him to meet such a special woman. Fate and alien machinery had brought them together, and for now, that was enough. Almost enough. It had to be enough.

  Yet, he could have held her, kissed her for hours. Her warmth, her scent, her unique mixture of work ethic and passion, had his heart slamming against his ribs, his breath ragged in his chest. His studies hadn’t suggested she had such a passionate nature and although he told himself to be patient, that now was not the time to make love, he nevertheless yearned for more. As much as he enjoyed kissing her, his blood danced hot through his veins and demanded that he remove her clothes so they could be flesh to flesh and make love all over again.

  She pulled back, breaking the kiss, her faced flushed, her lips swollen, her eyes dancing with excitement. “You actually made me forget for a minute—”

  “That was my intention.” He held out his hand to her and beat his torrent of passion down with painful determination. “Now, how about some real food? And we should check on Terry.”

  “You’re right, but I don’t want to share you. Every minute seems precious.”

  Her admission warmed him to his toes and his heart ached once more, for all that he might have had with Sara, and all that he would lose. The thought saddened him and as much as he tried to stay in the moment, it was next to impossible. How could he not think about losing her when he had such a special awareness of her every action? If only he could stay here, or take her to the future. But that selfish action might throw time more out of sync than it already was and the consequences for everyone else on Mars could be disastrous. As much as he wanted to keep Sara, the possibility of ruining other lives was not acceptable. However, just because they weren’t certain how to activate the time machine, didn’t mean they couldn’t learn how to turn it off. Finding that off switch might be their only option.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  TWELVE WOMEN had already died and Sara feared Terry might soon join them. The girl’s pallor made her eyes seem to bulge. She hadn’t eaten one bite of her dinner and had barely sipped her water. The visit to Terry had put a damper on Sara’s former ardor. Despite her growing feelings for Kendar, there was simply no time to waste on personal activity, no matter how pleasant, not with so many lives at stake.

  Earlier, she’d been wrong to kiss him when she could have been working and studying the pictographs he’d uncovered. Kissing him only increased her interest in him, and considering what she had on her plate, for both their sakes, she shouldn’t encourage a relationship that had no future.

  However, she understood too well the compelling urgency to grab on to someone to love when facing death’s door. She supposed it was human instinct to mate and propagate the species—especially if one didn’t expect to survive. So, not only was she fighting the chemicals still in her system, but millions of years of natural selection.

  As Sara had tucked Terry in for the night, the girl had whispered into her ear, “Hurry.” And Sara’s guilt mounted over thinking about her own feelings when Terry and many others like her were dying. And yet…Sara could only focus for so long without her mind going numb from the tremendous amount of input.

  She and Kendar returned to the chamber. Before she checked the computer data, she tried to gather any helpful information from the future. “Did your archaeologists have any theories about the alien machine?”

  “Sure. But no one ever figured out how it works, why it was built or how to shut it down. We didn’t even know for certain that it was still working—until I ended up here.”

  “And no one ever figured out how to read the pictographs?”

  “If I knew anything that would help, I’d tell you.” Kendar stared at the wall, frowning, his arms crossed over his chest. “I’m not holding back. What would be the point? After all, we’re trying to change the future.”

  She peered at the alien machine, but the curves kept grabbing her attention as she sketched. “Have you noticed that there are no straight lines in any of the markings?”

  “Is that significant?”

  “Probably. But we need to find out why.”

  SEVERAL HOURS LATER Kendar watched Sara toss aside her notes in discouragement. He ached to gather her into his arms, tell her that everything would be fine, but obviously, everything was far from fine. “You don’t have to solve the problem today,” he murmured.

  Her eyes remained bleak. “If I don’t figure out how to read the language, we can’t shut down the machine. And then how many women will die tomorrow?”

  “You didn’t build this relic. It’s not your fault.”

  She let out a long, low sigh. “But I may have inadvertently turned it on.”

  The chamber’s door opened. Sunlight beamed inside and a gust of air blew Sara’s notes to the floor as Terry staggered forward. Pale and weak, her skin almost blue, she shivered and stumbled. Was she too sick to remember she could have called for help on the communicator?

  Kendar grabbed her arm before she toppled. “What’s wrong?”

  Terry’s eyes brimmed with tears. “I don’t want to be alone.”

  “Join us,” Kendar helped the weak woman to a chair. Her skin, clammy beneath his fingers, trembled. She breathed in shallow pants.

  “Yes. Come in,” Sara invited, stooping to pick up her notes. “I’ll fix you some hot tea to warm you up.”

  Kendar retrieved a blanket and placed it around Terry’s shoulders. The poor young woman was deteriorating quickly, and he wished there was something he could do to at least make her more comfortable. The wind gusted and rattled the papers Sara had scooped up and he stepped toward the door to close it.

  Sara had turned toward her food supplies when she suddenly stopped and raised her voice. “Don’t move.”

  Kendar froze, except for his eyes that scanned the chamber for danger. But he spied nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing lurking in the shadows.

  Sara held up her notes, her expression of concentration intense, her eyes narrowed. “With the light coming in through the door, its shining through my papers.”

  Terry lifted her head, her sunken eyes burning with interest. “So?”

  “I think…I’m not sure…” Sara grabbed her papers with both hands and Kendar expected her to straighten them into a neat pile, but she kept the edges at odd angles to one another. “With the three pages overlapping, I see a pattern.”

  Terry pulled the edges of the blanket more tightly around her shoulders, her knuckles white. “A pattern?”

  “I don’t mean to be rude,” Sara’s voice rose in excitement, “but please, be quiet so I can…” She hurried to the scanner and held the papers up to the light, entering all three layers, one overlying the other, into the database. “From this one scan, the language and decryption program will search for patterns and maybe…”

  Terry ignored Sara’s request for silence. “Maybe you can send me to the future?”

  Kendar stared at Terry. She wanted to go? But that wouldn’t balance his coming back.

  “Perhaps I can read the alien language,” Sara corrected her without directly answering her question.

  Terry reacted to Sara’s words as if she’d just taken a blow, slumping dejectedly.
Kendar supposed he didn’t blame the dying woman for her impatience. At Sara’s announcement that she might be making progress, hope had lit Terry’s eyes and she’d looked at Sara with a serious case of hero worship. But now, she had a secretive, sullen look.

  Kendar fixed the tea, his thoughts turning to Sara. While the possibility existed that turning off the machine would stop the effects, it was more likely that if she succeeded, he would have to leave, travel forward to his time. If Sara learned how to use the machine and balance time, he would have to go back where he belonged to correct the irregularity.

  He knew that, in that scenario, there would be women on Mars in Kendar’s future—but none of them would be Sara. None of them would have her extraordinary combination of brilliance, humanity and sensuality. She was unique.

  The computer whirred. Sara tapped her feet impatiently, her eyes going from the monitor back to her notes. He set a cup of tea by her side that grew cool as she ignored it. Terry sipped hers, but the heat didn’t seem to lessen her chills.

  As for Kendar, he was torn. Torn between wanting to do the right thing and losing the woman he loved. The emotion might be new to him, but surely if his deep feelings for her hadn’t swept him away with longing, he wouldn’t be aware of the excitement in Sara’s every breath and how she so very studiously avoided looking into his eyes. If she looked at him, he was certain he’d see pain and regret there for what success with the relic would do to them personally. The woman clearly reciprocated his feelings, and though hers might not be as strong or as certain yet, nevertheless, she was too intelligent to deny the bond between them.

  “Well?” Terry asked.

  “The computer’s processing,” Sara said.

  “Is that good?”

  “Maybe.” Sara glanced at Kendar, her eyes blasting him with longing, compassion and frustration. He didn’t think it odd that he could read her feelings from just a glance. Although they’d known one another for only a day, he felt as if he’d known her a lifetime. No doubt his years of studying Sara’s life added to his knowledge, but this was more than book learning, this was a connection both emotional and physical.