by M. S. Parker
Was interracial marriage legal in California? I remembered a fair amount about that case because I’d written a paper about it my senior year in high school—it wouldn’t be settled as a national issue for two more years, but even if interracial marriage was legal, that didn’t mean there weren’t other issues.
I could imagine Astor having trouble with his job.
Florence might become a pariah.
Rubbing at the base of my neck, I stood at the bottom of the stairs and tried to calm my thoughts.
Astor’s reserve made more sense now. He probably wasn’t certain he could trust me. He had probably worried about exactly this—me finding out their secret.
Laughing to myself, I thought about how I could go to his mind at ease.
Hey, it's okay. I'm from the future, and most people are perfectly fine with interracial marriage, including me. It’s all cool. Of course, gay marriage is still an issue...
Yeah, that would really set his mind at ease. He’d think I was crazy.
He was a psychiatrist. He might try to have me committed.
“What a mess,” I muttered.
“Maya.”
I fought not to flinch at the sound of her voice. Pasting a smile on my face, I looked back at her. “Hey.”
She gave me an uneasy smile as Astor moved out to stand behind her, one hand on her shoulder.
I gripped the banister with one hand, eying them both. Astor hid it better, but the nerves were practically pouring off both of them. This was all such bullshit.
Florence came a little closer, her eyes darting toward the stairs. “I thought you were up in your room,” she said softly. She reached up to worry the strand of pearls at her neck. Her other hand was in a fist so tight, her knuckles pressed sharp and white against her skin.
“No.” Looking from her to Astor, I thought about lying. It would make them both feel better.
Yeah. They’d feel better for now. And then we all dance around each other on eggshells.
I had enough to be uneasy about, and so did they.
Moving away from the steps, I reached out her hand. “I heard you two talking.”
The blood drained out of Florence’s face.
“It’s okay.” The smile I gave her wasn’t as reassuring as I’d hoped it could be. I didn’t care, but she wasn’t the only one feeling the strain of nerves. “It’s okay, Florence. You don't have to worry. I'm not going to tell anybody.”
“I’m not sure what you’re talking about,” Astor said, remarkably calm.
Sighing, I brushed my fingers through my hair and moved over to the window. The expansive green lawn spread out like a lush green carpet, and I wished I’d just stayed outside. They didn’t want me knowing this. It didn’t make anything easier on them, and Florence had been so kind. Now she looked like she wanted to cry.
“Astor, you’re not entirely white,” I said, deciding to just to be blunt and get it over with. “FYI, I don’t care.”
“FYI?” Florence looked confused.
Idiot, I told myself. “For your information. We…um…we said it back home a lot. In school. The point is, you don’t need to worry. People should be able to marry who they want. If you love each other, that’s what matters. Not skin color.”
“You…” Florence pressed her fingers to her lips and looked away for a moment. “You really meant that. This doesn’t bother you?”
“No! Of course not.” I hugged her impulsively and she squeezed me back in return.
Once she drew away, I met Astor’s gaze. Some of the tension in his eyes had faded, I thought. “I am sorry. I had just come down to ask Florence something. I wasn’t trying to invade your privacy.”
He gave a short, single nod.
“If you want me to find someplace else to stay…” I had no idea where it would be, but I couldn’t force myself on them either.
“Don’t even think about it!” Florence hooked her arm through mine. “We’re friends, Maya. I don’t want you to think about that ever again. I was just worried that you would think badly of me.”
I hugged her. “Not a chance.”
After we broke apart, Astor lightly brushed his fingers down my shoulder. “Thank you.”
I shook my head. “There's nothing to thank me for.” Florence moved back to his side and they both watched me with expressions of such happiness, it hurt. They shouldn’t have to be happy about this. Me accepting their marriage should be a given.
“Things will get better. In a way, they already are.” I had to be careful what I said here, but I wanted, no, I needed to give them something. “The march in Selma, all the other violence that’s happened…people are waking up. The Loving’s are fighting for their right to be together and it’s going to take time, but they will win. Things are getting better.”
Florence smiled at me and the hesitant hope on her face almost gutted me. “You don't know that.”
“Yes, I do. Just wait.”
Before she could respond, there was a knock at the door. Harrison appeared from the depths of the house to answer it as Florence moved over to a nearby mirror to check her hair and face.
“I’m a fright,” she said, sighing.
“You’re beautiful.” Astor came to stand behind her and I looked away, giving them the illusion of privacy.
“You have a guest.” Harrison’s voice sounded from the door and Florence turned.
Her face brightened and I looked to see who it was.
“Cane!”
Dread grabbed me by the throat. Glenn’s best friend.
No…
The man striding toward Florence didn’t even spare me a glance.
That was fine.
It gave me a minute to brace myself. I needed it. I also needed a few seconds to take in the differences.
The Cane who’d just swept Florence up in a hug looked nothing like the Cane I’d known before.
That Cane had been too skinny, and I’d only seen him sober twice. He was usually in need of a shave and a fresh change of clothes.
Now?
He hugged Florence and greeted Astor. Then, a moment later, he turned his head and looked at me. Brilliant, penetrating eyes practically cut into me.
Cane inclined his head. “Maya.”
11
Maya
That single word confirmed that I had every right to feel all that dread that had built inside me at the sight of him.
Tugging at the hem of my shirt, I managed a tight smile and said, “Hello, Cane. You look…wonderful.”
He simply nodded, not returning the compliment. But then again, next to Florence, I looked…boring. I was in jeans and what would pass for a casual blouse for this time, and I hadn’t done my hair or even put on lipstick. Women put on lipstick almost as soon as they climbed out of bed, it seemed, but I only rarely messed with makeup.
Now I regretted it. Clothes and makeup were armor, and I could use that armor right now, seeing as how I was getting ready to go into battle.
The silence stretched out between us, and I tried, awkwardly, to fill it. “It’s nice to see you.”
“Is it?” His voice was dry, laconic even. “I can’t say I share the sentiment. It would have been nicer to see you, oh, maybe three years ago? You know, so you could plan your wedding?”
Blood rushed to my cheeks and I only barely managed to keep from flinching at his blunt words. There was nothing inherently cruel about what he’d said or even in how he looked at me. But his words, his gaze was intense and direct, and I knew he wasn’t going to be as gentle as Florence had been.
Then again, Cane hadn’t ever been my friend—he was Glenn’s and Glenn had his loyalty.
Even though he held it in check, anger simmered inside him.
The control was surprising. I’d only encountered him a few times last time I was back, but he’d been reckless and hotheaded. Control was not something I associated with Cane Bristow.
He took a step toward me. “Why didn't you at least leave him a note? A
phone call? Something?”
“I…” Shaking my head, I folded my arms over my stomach. I couldn’t explain this. What was I supposed to say?
“Do you have any idea what you did to him?” His voice grew sharper and fury spiked in his eyes.
“I know I hurt him.”
“Hurt him? You did a lot more than that, sweetheart. You destroyed him. We all but had to scrape him off the floor, and more than once, Maya.”
The words hit me like an open-handed blow and nausea started to twist inside me. I’d hurt more than I could even explain during the weeks I’d been gone, so I understood. But I’d only been gone weeks. Here, years had passed.
I had no idea what it had done to him.
But I had to figure out some way to explain away the time I’d been gone.
What was I supposed to say, though?
I didn’t want to lie and say I’d been kidnapped. That lie could crumble like a sandcastle in a thunderstorm.
But what other choice did I have…?
Before my conscience could kick in and shut it down, the words tumbled from my lips.
Once they were out, I couldn’t grab them back.
“I’m sorry. I…I wasn’t really in control of what happened. I was taken and kept drugged. Most of the past three years is just a blur, and I…” Blood heated my cheeks even more and unable to figure out where to go from there, I held up my hands. “I thought I’d never get away.”
Three sets of eyes stared at me.
“You poor thing,” Astor murmured, shaking his head.
“Taken…?” Florence murmured. “You were kidnapped?!”
Reaching up to rub my head, I turned away. I didn’t know if it was going to come off as nervous or guilty, but I couldn’t look at them now. What had I done?
I knew better than this.
“By whom?” Astor spoke before I had figured out what to say next.
His voice grew nearer and then I caught the movement in the corner of my eye, alerting me to his presence. As he moved to stand in front of me, I wiped my damp hands down the sides of my jeans.
“Who kidnapped you?”
“I don’t know. I never saw his face.” Swallowing the knot in my throat, I braced myself. It was too late to back out now. Mentally, I apologized for my sin while desperately trying to make up some details of my “kidnapping”.
“That night I went outside to get some air.” The lie now came easier. “It was a chilly night. Peaceful and quiet but when I turned to go back inside, I felt a piece of cloth pressed against my nose and mouth. There was a foul smell and after that, everything went black.”
I avoided eye contact as I continued. “When I finally woke up, I was in a foreign room, tied to a bed. I was all alone and scared.” My voice was now shaking and my eyes watering. An Oscar worthy performance indeed.
“It’s okay, Maya.” Astor put his hands on my shoulders. “You need to take a breath. Relax and take your time.”
Nodding, I gulped in air like I’d been starving for it.
“That’s it. Now…one more time, and let it out slowly.”
“I’m fine,” I said weakly. You’re a lying bitch, the voice of my conscience whispered in disgust. Just shut up now.
“You said you woke up tied to a bed?” Astor kept his hands on my shoulders, anchoring me.
“Yes.” Nodding, I focused on him instead of the nagging voice of guilt. “A hospital bed. And I never saw my abductor’s face. He always wore a white mask, like a surgeon or something. He wore doctor’s clothes too. He kept me drugged most of the time so I never got a good look at him.”
“That is just horrible,” Florence said softly.
“It was.” Licking my lips, I eased away from Astor and turned to face her and Cane. My window of coming clean had disappeared, but I already knew I wasn’t going to change course. This, at least, explained why I’d been gone, why they hadn’t heard from me. And it kept me out of a psych facility, too.
“Let me get this straight. You want us to believe that the reason you were gone for three years is that you were kidnapped?” Cane asked. “Then, explain to me why Glenn found your engagement ring in the bed. If you went outside for air in the middle of the night, you wouldn’t first take off your ring, now would you?”
It took me a second to fully understand what Cane had just said. That Glenn had discovered the engagement ring in the bed the next morning. That explains why I didn’t have it on my finger when I went back. The ring probably couldn’t transport through time.
I went to respond, but Astor patted my back. “You don’t have to go over every little detail today if you’re not ready. I can only imagine how you must feel.
“I’m okay. I’d like to continue.” With a weak smile, I nodded.
Moving over to the wing chair in the corner, I sat down and folded my hands in my lap.
“One day I managed to get out of my restraints and could get out through a tiny window to freedom. I didn’t even know how much time had passed when I finally escaped. Like I said, he’d kept me drugged most of the time, and what feels like three years to you, only feels like a few weeks to me. The man stole almost three years of my life.”
Skepticism still lay heavy on Cane’s face. “You still haven’t explained how your engagement ring was found in the bed?”
“He…” I hesitated for a second. “He must have put it there. The abductor.” Biting my lip, I looked away so they couldn’t see the lie in my eyes. “After drugging me, he took the ring from my finger and placed it in my bed. All, to make it look like I had regrets about the upcoming marriage and decided to call it off. If it looked like I had run away from an engagement I didn’t want, nobody would ever look for me. Never suspect that I’d been kidnapped.”
Florence rushed toward me and knelt by my legs to take my hands. “Oh, sweetheart. How awful. What a nasty scheme by that awful man.”
“You really expect me to believe all that?” Cane stared at me in disbelief, but I could tell he was no longer certain as sympathy began to wash away the anger in his voice. I told myself I was doing the right thing.
“I can’t undo what happened and I can’t force you to believe me, but frankly, I don’t care if you believe me or not. I’m just glad to be here and be alive.”
Before I could ramble and tell more lies, I stopped and focused on the hands I’d folded in my lap, sheltered in Florence’s.
“We’re all grateful you are alive,” Florence said. She’d settled on the floor, legs folded demurely to her side and her skirt smoothed down. “How come it took you so long to come out here? What did you do after your escape?”
I only hesitated for a second. Lies came easy now. “When I got out of the house, I realized I was not even in the US but in Mexico. I had no money. I had to get a job and save up to be able to get back in the US. It took me several months.”
“If only you’d called Florence. We would have helped,” Astor said gently. “She would have sent you the money without question. She loves you.”
“Yes.” Voice thick, Florence asked, “Why didn’t you call?”
“I would have if I could but this was Mexico. Things are different there.”
“Oh, of course!” She stood up and threw her arms around me. “Never mind, honey. I’m just happy you’re here now and okay.”
I hugged her back, needing the contact, needing the comfort.
“Me too,” I said. “I’m very happy to be back.”
And that was not a lie.
12
Glenn
“Here's to life.” My best friend, Cane Bristow, tipped a crystal highball glass in my direction.
I lifted my glass and nodded.
He had scotch.
I had water.
But we toasted just the same.
As much as I craved the smooth burn of a good scotch, I wasn’t going to touch it.
Cane, however, didn’t have my demons—not when it came to booze, at least. And he had a reason to drink.
<
br /> He’d just buried his last surviving family member. He’d come back to California for that very reason.
For the past year, he’d been in Virginia, stationed at an Army base there. I still couldn’t believe he’d gone and joined the damn military. It was even harder—and scarier—to believe that he was shipping out to Vietnam in less than a week.
My best friend was being deployed.
He had to be crazy. Most men our age had been drafted, but if you were in the entertainment business, you could figure out how to get a pass easy enough. I didn’t get called up. But Cane had—and instead of trying to get an exemption, he’d decided he needed to do it.
I was scared to death for him.
So many Americans had already come back dead or missing pieces. And not all of those were always visible, either.
Cane had managed to hold off on deployment while his uncle slowly lost the battle to cancer, but now that he was gone, Cane would be shipping out.
I didn’t want to see it happen. I didn’t want to risk losing my friend.
I’d already lost too much, and the last time I’d taken a hard hit, I’d gone spiraling down so fast, it was a miracle I wasn’t dead already.
Over the rim of my glass, I studied Cane. He was in uniform, hair cut short and sitting straight and tall. I barely recognized him.
“Are you sure you want to head over there and get involved?”
“I don't have much choice, you know that.” Cane tipped his drink at me one more time, a grim smile on his face. “I'm already committed.”
“Fuck that.” I stared down at my water as he took another slow sip of his scotch. It was a nice year—twenty years old.
I’d sell my left nut for a taste.
I’d woken up in a lousy mood. Last night, I’d had another fight with Kimberly. It had left me feeling hollow and empty inside, and I’d spent half the night driving around, trying to clear my head.
It hadn’t worked.
By the time Cane had shown up at my door, I’d been dressed in one of my better suits, fueled with coffee and stale toast. The suit didn’t fit all that well. I’d lost weight since Mrs. B had died. Florence had offered to help me find somebody to replace her. But there was no replacing the woman who’d helped raise me.
