Time Skip (Book 2): The Time Skippers

by Craig L. Seymour

  He gave her 20 minutes to settle in before he walked through the front door. He quickly scanned the room, without appearing to scan the room, and spotted her sitting with another young woman. Maria’s back was to the window, giving her a good view of the room. Lovelle asked the hostess if he could eat at the bar, which was mostly empty this early in the evening. She told him to help himself and he made his way to the perfect seat. He sat with his back to Maria, but, enough to one side that she could easily identify him if she looked.

  He was putting the ball in her court. She could approach him if she wanted, but, he would scrupulously avoid seeing her that night if she didn’t. If they didn’t meet tonight, this bar was going to become one of his favorite places to eat. Eventually they would meet, whether she “spotted” him, or he gave in and went to her.

  ***

  The mental gymnastics of contingency planning turned out to be unnecessary. About half way through his own dinner he heard Maria’s voice behind him. “Mr. Ridge?”

  He placed a look of curiosity on his face and turned to her. The curious look was quickly replaced by a genuine smile. “Maria.” He said confidently, letting her know he remembered her very well.

  ”You remembered.” She declared, not seeming at all suspicious at his presence.

  "Of course,” He answered not bothering to add some cliché about never forgetting a pretty face. “I also remember you agreed to call me Mark.”

  “Yes, of course, Mark." She corrected herself. “I thought that was you, but, I didn’t expect to see you outside of the office.”

  “Neither did I, although I can’t say it’s an unpleasant surprise. Would you like to join me?” He ventured an invitation.

  “No, I’m afraid I’m having dinner with a friend.” She registered the look of disappointment on his face and added, “I meet her for dinner here quite a lot.” He thought he could perceive a little emphasis on the word "her” and the smile crept back over his face. Then her expression changed, as if it had suddenly dawned on her that his presence was a bit suspicious. “How did you find our little hole in the wall?” Although there was clearly suspicion in her eyes, there was not a trace of it in her voice.

  “My motel is just down the road a bit. The neighborhood around it is pretty rough, so I decided to take a drive. I’m not much of a drinker, but I've got a soft spot for bar food. So when I saw the sign…" he shrugged, trailing off. “So, how about coffee after dinner? You can’t tell me you don’t like coffee.”

  She smiled again, apparently satisfied with his explanation. "Sure, coffee would be nice, but, not here. The coffee here is drinkable, but, it is much better at a café a couple of blocks from here. We can take a little walk.”

  “That sounds great." He replied, "I’m about finished here, so you come get me whenever you’re ready. Don’t rush on my account. I have nowhere to be and I can nurse a beer for a while.”

  About 20 minutes later Maria stepped up to the bar next to him, “Are you ready to take a walk?”

  “Absolutely.” He answered. He had already settled his bill, so he pushed back from the bar and gestured toward the door, “Lead the way, ma chere."

  As they walked they chatted about the local weather and then the conversation turned to other places to eat. “Of course, I’ve hardly been here long enough to qualify as an expert.” She admitted. Once they had their coffee, and a nice quiet table in the back corner, he asked her about herself.

  Maria described growing up in a small town in Cuba. She told him about a harrowing trip on a boat full of refugees. It was quite a tale and Lovelle suspected it was all true, in a fashion. But he knew there must be so much more. Her story might be entirely true, from her first life, or it might be a conglomeration. Bits and pieces of her many years condensed into a workable story.

  She told him that her home had seemed like a perfectly nice place at the time. “What did I know? When you grow up in poverty, and everyone around you does too, you don't know you’re poor. And when the people around you, including your own parents, accept that living in poverty is the way things are supposed to be, then you accept it too, at least for a time. And when you're older, and you finally find out, what do you do about it? The only choice I had was to abandon my family. My parents and my husband, they would not listen to reason. I tried for so long to convince them to leave. But they would not hear of it.” Maria sighed. “They believe in the ‘revolution’.” She said, exaggerating the final word. “It was a terribly hard choice. The thing is, you only have hints of what freedom is like. It's not until you actually get here that you understand the stark difference. I mean, if you are a thinking person you can see that if they won't let you leave there must be something wrong. I think that is the most obvious of the many condemnations of communism. It can't allow its people to go. It’s like a big prison. If it's so glorious, why do you have to make people stay?

  “And the policy here…” She continued, “It seems so counterproductive. I mean, if you want people to be free, you show them what freedom brings. And yet the policy is isolation. I understand that they don't want to encourage that sort of revolution. They have to show their condemnation. Make sure there are consequences. But who is being punished? The Cuban people suffer, but, does this hurt Fidel? No!” Her voice was rising and she became somewhat animated. “He uses it to solidify his own power. He tells us about the evil capitalists who want to oppress us, and no one in America is able to contradict him. Keeping us in the dark perpetuates our situation. I sometimes wonder if the Americans guard their freedom so jealously because they want to protect it for themselves, or to prevent it from spreading.” She stopped and took a long breath. “I’m sorry. I just get a little upset sometimes. I’ve probably offended you.” She apologized.

  “Not at all. Sometimes I get a bit riled up myself. Besides, I often wonder the same things about our government.”

  “I just think if Cubans could really see what freedom is like, they might actually fight for it. Fortunately, modern communication is making it harder to isolate the people. It isn’t like it was in the 70’s when I was little. The people are learning about the outside world more than ever before. Even Castro, with his cult of personality, will not be able to stop that forever.

  “It was such a struggle when I finally realized. I wanted to leave so badly, but I was alone in that. Communism is like a religion. People just take it on faith without any evidence that it’s good for them, or anyone else. My parents are loyal. There was nothing I could say to change their minds. And so I finally had to go alone. It just seemed like I’d been living in that communist paradise forever.”

  “I’ll bet.” Lovelle replied with a knowing smile at that little hint of her longevity. It was something she could easily say to someone who was not a Skipper, and it would never be noticed. And so she threw that comment in casually, believing it would mean nothing to him.

  “So, I started to look around to see if I could find somebody who could get me to America. And I did. I found a fisherman who was planning to load his boat up with people far beyond its capacity and strike out for Florida. On the night before we left I invited my family over and we had a big dinner, and I hugged and kissed them all. In my country such things are normal, but, I made quite a show of it. They must have wondered what the fuss was about. The next day, when I was gone, they must've said, ‘aha’. I miss them tremendously. But, I could not stay there any longer. And once I arrived here, I wondered how I had stayed so long.” She sighed.

  “Sooo… you're a married woman?” Lovelle asked casually, curious what her emotional status was more than her legal one. Still unsure if this was actually her first time in America, he wondered how fresh the break was. Had she really suffered through six lives under the communists before finally coming to this country? Was she really only a year removed from being with her husband, or had she broken those ties a long time ago? If she hadn’t been married in this particular timeline, why would she say so? He had to assume she had been married.
Was she emotionally available, or was her marriage still hanging over her? From the way she spoke she really did sound like this was her first time in the U.S. But that seemed so unlikely to Lovelle. How could someone so obviously anti-communist choose to stay there life after life? The only reason he could envision was family. But, what part of her family? Could her love of the husband she’d now left behind have been so strong as to make her endure 50 extra years in a place she so obviously wanted to leave? If she had started leaving before this life, then why would she have married him over and over again? Did she care enough that she tried new tact each time, hoping eventually he would join her?

  Lovelle had never really stopped loving his own wives, but, the separation in time had put those feelings on a distant backburner. He was far enough removed from those emotions that he wasn’t concerned that they would interfere. He had ample proof that he could give his heart to a woman without ever truly ending his love for another. But, could she do the same? Would she even give herself a chance? These ideas swirled around in his head until he mentally shooed them away. He tried not to let things that were outside his control consume him. And her past was off limits. She was one of the few people in the world whose past he could not manipulate. Not that he would be inclined to do so. He tried to limit his manipulations to those things directly related to his work. He certainly never used his foreknowledge to gain favor with a woman. To seduce a woman under such false pretenses would be to debase himself, and to violate her. He couldn’t even imagine wanting to be with a woman who had to be tricked into his bed. Intimacy was a shared thing. He believed his partner’s emotional investment was just as important as his own.

  His worries about her availability aside, he hoped she was fresh off the boat, so to speak. Right now, his greatest concern was that she be closely tied to the 7/17 club. That would make her not only unavailable, but, potentially a threat. He was already falling for this woman, hard and fast. He was afraid he might make a mistake. Reveal himself to someone whose own agenda ran counter to his. But she had rekindled something in him, and he wanted desperately for her to be ready to move on… and, to choose him.

  It was funny to think that a person could love multiple people. Not the way they loved their parents or children, but, to love them romantically. It was a paradox of their situation. In any normal life, if he shared a love like he had with Katie, or with Trina, they would never part. But, this was no normal life. Through no fault of their own, they were no longer compatible with him. His life was so very different. And he believed in his heart, that they were better off without him. He did not, however, any longer believe that he was better off. He knew that he was getting the raw end of the deal. But, it was a choice he had made. He would leave them alone to live their normal lives. To subject them to the turmoil of his would be unfair, especially when the world finally moved on. And he had to believe it would move on.

  “Yes, I guess I am.” She answered. “Not that it matters. He will never come here, and I won’t go back. Besides, I tried so hard and so long to get him to leave. I guess I just stopped caring for him.” That was music to his ears.

  After a while she said, "I’ve been doing all the talking. You haven’t told me a thing about yourself.”

  “I like to listen.” He explained.

  “Well, I need a break from all of this talk about me, and I imagine you do too.”

  “Not really, but, I’ll give you a break if you need it.” He proceeded to tell her the carefully crafted back story of Ridge. He got her unwanted sympathy when he told her of parents lost in a car wreck, and the wholly fabricated tale of foster homes until he was 18. He tried not to make his youth sound too sad, but, as Ridge he always had no family, and he would not change that fact. Having no family saved him from the need to introduce them. Plus, changing his backstory risked inconsistency in his stories. The stories of his adulthood were mostly true, albeit a conglomeration of experiences from different lives. This allowed him to portray a full life without addressing the gaps when he was living his real life, or off assassinating people.

  He described for her his fortuitous presence in Germany in 1989 and how he had photographed the tearing down of the Berlin wall. “I just had a feeling things were coming to a head there. I had been hanging around West Berlin for a while, looking for a story. I never dreamed I’d get one of the greatest photo ops in modern history. Even when they announced that it was okay to cross and I went to take pictures of people going over the border, I had no idea I was going to get to see the wall coming down.”

  “That must have been amazing.” Maria said, a little dreamily. The notion of seeing the end of communist rule, even in another country, clearly touched her.

  “Yeah, it was very cool. I’d love for you to have seen it.” And as Lovelle said this he was thinking that maybe next time she would. “But, you know, my luck hadn’t quite run out yet.” He continued, “After a few weeks, as the story cooled off, so did I. It was winter time and I’m no fan of the cold. I decided to look around for somewhere warm where I might pick up a story. I landed in Panama City just in time for the U.S. invasion and the arrest of Manuel Noriega. Lucking into both those places just a few weeks apart has pretty much made my career.” He had, in fact, made a point of attending those events in each life, as it did lend him a good deal of credibility in his chosen profession.

  Conversation was very natural between the two, and Lovelle wanted very much to come clean. As first dates went, this one got five stars. But, he needed to know more about her. He couldn't yet see any way to determine exactly what her relation to the 7/17 club was, if any. At the very least, he would try to determine if she were the type of person who would have a problem with his real work. From there, if the results were favorable, he would have to decide how to proceed.

  He felt the evening was going very well, and it seemed she agreed with him. As they walked back to his car she looped her arm around his and briefly laid her head on his shoulder. The gesture made his heart race and he thought again Oh yes, you are smitten.

  When they arrived in the parking lot he feigned ignorance and asked her which car was hers.

  “Oh, I live in an apartment nearby. I just walk.”

  “Oh, well, I don’t mean to sound presumptuous, but, it wouldn’t seem right not to escort a lady to her door after dark.”

  “That would be nice.” She replied and off they went. At her door she gave him a peck on the cheek, thanked him for a nice evening, and handed him her phone number scrawled on a napkin. She had obviously written it out some time during the night, and held it in reserve until she was sure he wasn’t going to turn out to be a cad.

  Chapter 5

  Over the next few weeks the two saw a lot of each other. The more they were together the harder he was falling for her. The harder he fell the more desperate he was to come clean. He wanted so much for her to fall for him too, but, the real him. Or rather, the un-sanitized version of him. His alter ego was still the real him. Lovelle did not play Ridge like an actor in a role. He did not wear a different persona or pretend to have opinions or feelings that were not genuine. Every story he told of Ridge's adult life was true. It would have been little different if he had approached her as Curtis Lovelle. But, there was just so much that he was omitting.

  He was sure her feelings toward him were growing as well. He feared it was going to become harder for her to accept the deception the longer he let it drag out. What she might see as reasonable prudence in the beginning would look more and more like distrust as time went on. Even if she were fine with his life as a vigilante she might resent him for not trusting her.

  Lovelle caught his break one night while they were having dinner. They were in a sports bar watching a ball game when a commercial came on for the television premier of “Batman Returns”.

  “I love those movies!” Maria remarked.

  “Really. You like that type? Vigilante with a dark past?”

  “Sure, what’s not to like. Strong, con
fident, mysterious. A little bit of the bad boy you like as a girl, but, really the good guy you want as a woman." She paused for a moment. "He's the kind of man who does what is right and not what is easy.”

  Lovelle hesitated, trying to compose his next sentence carefully. Deciding this was how he wanted to do what he'd been waiting to do, he spoke.

  "The kind of man who kills Osama Bin Laden before the world knows what a really evil man he is.” He said this very deliberately, making sure she understood him perfectly. Her face registered surprise, but, only for a second. She had good control of herself, not like you'd expect from the beautiful 24 year-old she appeared to be, but, like the seasoned veteran she was inside.

  Her face then took on a puzzled look, “I don’t know what that means. It must be an American thing.”

  Lovelle let out a single sharp barking laugh. "You know, I’ve never approached another Skipper before. I wonder if this is how it always goes. I know the one time someone tried to find me out I sure as hell played dumb. Of course I’ve been playing dumb for a long damned time. Like I said, I've never revealed myself to another Skipper before.”

  Her face had turned serious while he spoke, and he knew this was the make it or break it moment. If she were going to blow him off it would be right then. She might tell him he was nuts and keep pretending she didn’t know what he was talking about. Or she might acknowledge who they were and tell him to buzz off for being a conniving jerk. What she said was, “What’s a Skipper?” which didn't exactly reveal which way she was going to go.

  “Oh. That’s what I call us. At least in my head. Like I said, I've never talked to anybody about this. Not a word in nearly a hundred years.”