by Cooper, Jill
A vanilla aroma greets me in the foyer. The house is like a museum and not simply from no one being home, but because everything is so refined. I’ve never been surrounded by expensive antiques before. The gorgeous furniture has no rips or stains. The living room is decorated with delicate creams and yellow sofas. On the coffee table are fresh flowers and on the wall a mantle of mementos. Everything seems so new, so beautiful, but also homey. Someone must have gone through a lot of trouble to make it this way.
In the center of the coffee table is an ornate silver frame. My heart contracts when I see it. The picture is of me and Mom from a few years earlier. We are smiling with our matching eyes and hair, our heads tilted together. Laughter lines our faces. My fingers shake as I touch the frame. It’s real. I can feel it.
I need to see her. Now.
An idea strikes me, and I open my purse to pull out my cellphone. A rhinestone case? I balk, but at least I have Mom back. I guess I can put up with being a little girly, but surely no one will suspect if I get rid of some of it.
Scrolling through my contacts, most of the names are familiar. When I come to hers, I freeze. My hands are shaking so bad I can barely slide my finger against the screen.
It rings.
I wait what seems like forever.
“You’ve reached Miranda. I can’t come to the phone right now, but please leave me a message.” My heart soars at the sound of her sweet voice.
Beep.
I need to say something. I take a shaky breath.
“Hi, Mom.” My voice cracks. “It’s me, Lara. Of course you probably know that already.” I laugh and wipe my hands on my skirt. “I need to talk to you, so can you please call me back? Please, it’s real important.”
I’m halfway up the stairs when the front door opens. I turn, anxiously expecting Mom, but two little kids walk in instead. They’re wearing matching outfits with deep navy blazers that appear to be a private school uniform. One is a girl and the other a boy, both with hair like sand and eyes reflecting my own cool blue. Warm, familial smiles fill their faces when they see me.
“Can we watch TV before Mom gets home?” The little girl asks me.
Mom? My mouth falls open, speechless. My head throbs, and I squeeze my eyes shut. In my mind I see myself chasing these two through the park, pushing them on the swings, but how is that possible? I only just met them.
Mike punches Molly’s arm. Somehow I know their names, as if the memory of them was beamed into my head. “Lara’s never going to let us. She always makes us do our homework first.”
“Right,” I answer with a sigh of relief. “Go do your homework.” I ruffle their hair because it feels like the right thing to do.
Still perched on the stairs, I watch them talk as they sit on the floor beside the coffee table and empty their backpacks of books and papers. Their chatter is light and so normal. I grip the railing tightly. All I wanted was Mom back, but so much has changed. I have a family now because I changed one little thing. Okay, maybe it wasn’t so little.
I close my eyes and see Rick’s face. He’s warning me not to risk us, our future. And now I think I have.
Rick.
But I have Mom back.
Chewing on the inside of my lip, I find my room upstairs. I fear it might be a cotton candy palace of princess pink, but the walls are soft white, and the only pink is the comforter on the bed. The room is bigger than the entire apartment I used to live in with Dad. It even has a balcony overlooking our small backyard.
Rooting around inside my closet, I find a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. The shirt is bedazzled with feminine swirls and lace, but it’s better than nothing. The label says Gucci, and the hoodie I grab is Juicy Couture. Everything I own is fancy. Can’t I have my stinking Wal-Mart crap back?
I slip them on and my reflection in the full length mirror catches my eye. I look the same, but my hair ... my curls are gone; my hair is straight. Why would I straighten my hair? On the dresser there’s a flat iron and enough hair products to open my own salon. It makes no sense. I love having the same curls as Mom. Why go through so much trouble to straighten my hair?
Downstairs, the front door slams and I jump.
“Daddy’s home!” Molly’s voice rings out.
Dad. In my mind, I instantly see my good-natured father, with his brown hair and joyful smile. I wish I could tell him what I’ve done, but I can’t.
I race out of my room and trot down the stairs. I can’t wait to see him again and give him a hug. When I reach the bottom of the stairs, he is hugging my siblings. I freeze.
The blond man turns to me.
A stranger.
I turn to ice. “Princess, you have a good day?”
My insides wretch. I want to run. Where the hell is my dad?
Chapter Three
This man, this stranger I had expected to be my father, kisses my forehead and smiles like he knows me, like he’s raised me. Vomit rises in my throat.
“I have homework,” I say flatly. “When’s Mom getting home?”
He checks his gold watch. He’s the image of perfection, from his expensive gray suit down to his Italian shoes. I don’t know what his name is, but he’s gorgeous, and I hate him. It’s his fault Dad is gone. I saved Mom for me and Dad, not this guy, whoever the hell he is. He may as well be Satan as far as I’m concerned. I will never accept him.
“Oh, not for a few hours,” he answers. "Should be before you go to bed. Everything okay?”
“Yeah, I want to see her.”
“I’m here if you need to talk.”
I nod but can’t bring myself to say anything. I hate his sympathetic eyes. I run up to my room, close the door, and lean against it. I close my eyes and take a deep breath, and when I open them again I see a desk with a laptop on it. Finally, something I recognize. I can search for my dad and Rick on the internet, maybe piece together what happened.
The laptop case is pink. Figures. But it’s also password protected. What would this Lara’s password be? With a deep breath I type Donovan, and boom, I’m in.
The background is a picture of me and a group of kids. We’re all sitting on a wall at the beach wearing matching tops that seem to be volleyball team outfits. I recognize them, but I don’t know them. Except for Donovan. There he is with his arm swung around my shoulders and a dumb grin on his face.
Like he loves me. Like he thinks he owns me.
Groaning, I begin my search. I use WhitePages.com and find Rick easily. He hasn’t even moved, but the search for my dad proves futile. I can’t find anything on him. I bring up Google and type John Crane. There are so many references from across the country I might as well be looking for a Smith or a John Doe. But then I see a news article for Cambridge, Massachusetts and I click on it. The screen flashes and redirects to another page.
Content blocked.
My jaw clenches. They have some sort of Net Nanny crap installed on my laptop. Dad never did this to me. He always trusted me. He knew what kind of girl I was.
Grabbing my sneakers from the bottom of the closet, I head back downstairs. My new dad is sitting on the sofa with the twins and they are going over their homework together. He throws a glance over his shoulder, and his eyebrows furrow. “Going somewhere?”
“Yeah, to find my real dad.” My cheeks burn hot and my nose flares.
He stands and the air in the room tenses, contracting around us. The twins stop their homework and look over.
“Where. Is. He?” I cross my arms and stare him down, waiting for an answer.
His eyes are angry but not unkind. “We’ve been over this, Lara. A million times. I know you wish things were different. Why don’t we sit down in the kitchen? I’ll make you some tea, and we’ll wait for your mother to come home.”
He reaches for my elbow. His face is soft and understanding, but I want to wretch all over his fine pressed suit. I yank my arm away and run from the house. His footsteps rush behind me.
“Lara Montgomery, get back here!”
>
I never even look back.
Chapter Four
It’s about dinner time, so the subway is scattered with businessmen and teens heading home. Signs plastered to the interior advertise Rewind.
Want to revisit your son’s birth?
Want to store the memory of your wedding?
Join the Memory Bank program at Rewind!
Memory Bank program?
Slouching in my seat, I lurch to the side as the subway stops. The doors glide open, and some people shuffle out while others shuffle in, including an old lady who smiles at me.
I try to return it but can’t.
I thought I was ready. I thought I could deal with all the fallout, but this… I wasn’t ready for this.
Rick tried to warn me. He tried to tell me.
I remember when we last sat in his room.
****
The comforter is messy and littered with papers. Rick paces back and forth, his hands clasped behind his back. He’s wearing a flannel shirt with dancing flames on the shoulder. “What if you get caught?”
“I won’t. I know what I need to do. I’ve been practicing my route.”
“That’s why you’ve been out running? Training?”
Our eyes lock, and I see desperation in his.
“When you go back in time, you're a hologram. You know that, so how can you change the past?” Rick says.
I swallow hard. “When I went back on my birthday… I touched stuff while I was there. I helped people. I know I can do this. I know.” I shrug. “I think I’m special.”
Rick crouches down in front of me, his soft brown hair falling against his brow. His emerald eyes are alive with pain. His hands caress mine. “You know they monitor things from the outside. If they catch any energy spikes or anomalies, they’ll end your session, and you’ll be arrested. You know that interacting with the past is against the law.”
Everyone knows that. Under certain circumstances courts can grant the police the right to go back in time and witness a crime. If that happens, I’m screwed. Lucky for me that process is as exciting as watching grass grow.
“She’s my mother,” my voice quivers. I close my eyes when he touches my cheek. “Ever since the first time I went back on my birthday—I can’t stop thinking about her, Rick.” I close my eyes and take a deep breath.
He nuzzles my cheek, and I feel his warming breath against my skin. I’m safe, comfortable.
“I saw how she was with me,” I whisper, because if I have to be any louder I won’t be able to go on. “I was a baby, and I saw how much she loved me. She sang to me. My dad—-we were all so happy.” I shake my head. “That’s what I want. I need that. He does too.”
Rick’s eyes soften. “And if you’re successful, you know things will change.”
“Of course I do. I’ll have my mom.”
“Not that.” He glances away, pain etched on his face. “Your life will change. Our life.”
My brow furrows. “What are you trying to say?”
“What if we don’t know each other anymore? What if we lose each other?”
The idea quickens my pulse. I brush his soft hair off his brow. “It won’t. Nothing could change how I feel about you.”
Doubt mars his face. I lean forward and brush my lips against his. Passion comes quick as our lips part, searching each other. I wrap my arms around his neck as he lifts his body onto the bed beside me. He kisses my jaw and rests his head against mine.
“I don’t want to lose our future, Lara. Are you willing to risk everything you know for this?”
Rather than answer him, I lay my head on his shoulder. He wraps his arms around me. I’m cocooned and safe.
Despite it all, the answer is yes.
***
I never expected that to change.
It was only the beginning. I had gotten away with changing the past physically, but my heart was paying a hefty price.
The subway lurches to a stop, and I step off onto the platform and head to Rick’s apartment. In my old life, his parents would still be at work, and I hope that holds true.
The area he lives in was my home. On the corner, Marv the homeless man passes out fliers. The steps are spray painted, and the streets are dirty and gritty. Everything about my new life feels fake, but this feels real. Like home.
Kids litter the crumbled steps going up to Rick’s apartment. I squeeze between them and head up three flights of stairs to apartment 3B. The doorbell is broken, so I rap the door with my knuckles and wait for him to answer. I lick my lips, anticipation building in my belly like a hurricane.
The door opens, but the chain remains latched. Rick’s eye peers at me with suspicion. “Yeah?” There is no familiarity in his voice.
My heart drops to my feet, and I find the will to answer. “I was wondering if I could come in and we could talk? It’s me. Lara.”
“Lara Montgomery?” He’s on guard. Defensive.
I want to scream that’s not my name, but instead I nod. “Yeah. I have a—I need to talk to you.”
“Okay.” His voice is uncertain. He closes the door, and the locks spin. “I don’t know what you could want to talk to me about.”
Letting me in, I notice he’s wearing his leather jacket and tight jeans. His hair is in his face as usual, but I can read his curiosity in his posture and walk. He leads me to the living room—cluttered, familiar. Like going home.
His hands are in his pockets, and his eyes are intense, sizing me up. I have to fight the instinct to fall into his arms and kiss him.
“This is going to sound weird, but can you tell me what you know about me?”
Rick’s eyes narrow. “Know about you?”
“Where we met? When I moved. What I do at school. Anything you can think of.”
“Why?” He scowls, pulling his eyebrows together. He doesn’t want to play along.
“I’m having some problems.” I decide to be honest. “And I need, need to hear someone say it.”
Something in my voice gets through to him. His expression softens, and he takes his hands out of his pockets. “We met at school. Kindergarten. You moved when your mom remarried, all of which you know.”
“How old was I?”
Rick turns his head away with a grunt. “This is stupid.”
“How old?” I push.
“Seven. Eight. We were kids.”
“And?”
“Annnd you promised we’d always be friends, but you got the fancy clothes, the big house. You’re in the 'it' clique, so yeah, we’re not friends.” His eyes darken and his lips curve into a snarl. “You act like you don’t even know me.”
I sit down on the sofa and cover my mouth. We were priceless. How could that all be gone, like in the blink of an eye?
“You having some sort of mental break or something?”
I shake my head. I can’t answer.
He sits beside me and watches.
“Do you know what happened to my real father? John Crane?”
“Don’t you?” he counters. “Everyone knows.”
Rick is studying me, and I can’t give anything away. My eyes dart away from his, but then he touches my shoulder. I melt and my resolve fades.
“I’m having … problems. I feel like I’m living someone else’s life. Like these aren’t my clothes, those aren’t my friends. Like I’ve made a horrible mistake.” I bite my lip and look away.
The coffee table is littered with crap. A wallet. A belt. But no picture frames of us like there was supposed to be. No smiles while stopping for ice cream. No stupid orange teddy bear that I won for him at the fair.
“It’s not your fault. Your mom remarried. Look, it’s no one’s fault you have the good life now. I’d say you’re the lucky one.” I see bitterness in his eyes and the cavern between us lengthens.
“At least your family is still together.” I stare at my hands and see how perfect my fingernails are. I hate my acrylic tips and want to tear them off.
“I thought you lik
ed Mr. Montgomery. You’ve always called him Dad.”
I gawk at him as if he has two heads, and a rush of panic crashes through me. I groan and grab my temples. My brain is on fire. I divert my eyes away, squeeze them shut, and begin to experience a memory. But to me it’s brand new.
I’m walking down an aisle in a white dress. My hair is up in a pink ribbon with flower pins. I’m only a kid, and I’m smiling like a goober, tossing pink petals from a small woven basket. Camera flashes blind me on either side. I look ahead to the altar and see Jax Montgomery. He’s in a tux with his hands clasped, and he winks at me. There’s something in his eyes. Adoration. Pride. I’m happy. I can’t wait for Mom to say her vows. I can’t wait for us to be a family.
The memory fades like fog from a window. My eyes feel as if they’re exploding, and I mash my palms against them. When I can open my eyes again I see Rick waiting with a glass of water, which I accept.
He watches me expectantly. I need to tell him something. I sip slowly, to bide my time. Memories of my altered past bombard me, causing intense physical pain as if my body is rejecting them. I’d been told repeatedly what the most important time travel warning is.
Don’t change the past.
I knew the risk but took the gamble anyway. Time travel sickness is what they call it. Didn’t even sound that bad, only something to warn you off, but I’m beginning to think I bit off more than I could chew.
My hands shake as he takes the glass back. “You’re not on drugs, are you? If you are, you can leave right now.” His face hardens, but I understand his fear. His brother was arrested for dealing drugs at a school and was still in prison.
Solemn, I stare up into his eyes. “No. Promise. ” I try to laugh, but it gets stuck in my throat. “Headaches. I’m okay now.”
His eyes narrow on me. “No offense, but you’re way different than the last time we talked. You’re like, a different person.”
Can I trust him? I want to, but this Rick and I haven’t been friends in a long time. There’s no telling if he will keep my secret or report me. I could spend the rest of my life in jail or worse.
