“You’re burning up!”
“You’re exaggerating. It’s only a slight fever.”
Her brows rose, twin arches over beautiful eyes that he could have spent a very long time looking into. “So what is it? Are you coming down with quinaria fever, too?”
“No. I had it as a child and somehow survived, so I’m immune. This is just…another side effect, I suppose.”
She set the plate of cookies on the table and left the room, returning seconds later with a pair of small white tablets, which she gave to him. “Take these. They’ll help with the fever.”
He did. And then he snatched up a cookie and dunked it.
“Zach, have you thought about what’s going to happen to you when you go back through that…that portal of yours? If you don’t find a way to avoid the side effects, I mean?”
He averted his eyes. “No way of telling. I’ve been trying to understand exactly what it was about the portal that caused these reactions, but so far, I just don’t know.”
“You don’t look any better than you did when you arrived. Worse, in fact.”
He shook his head. “No, it’s no worse. Not much better, but a little. Perhaps I’ll build up a tolerance, so that when I go back the side effects will be less pronounced.”
“Or maybe it will get worse every time, and you’ll arrive back there barely able to function.”
“That’s not a consideration, Jane. As long as I get the drug back to Benjamin, I really don’t care what ill effects I suffer.”
“I know.” She closed her eyes very briefly. Bit her lip, as if there were something there, about to jump out. A second later, her eyes opened again, and she drew a shaky breath. “But there are some other side effects—repercussions to what you’re planning to do—that you haven’t considered, Zach. And I think it’s time you did.”
Zach frowned down at her. “Something’s bothering you about all of this. I knew that this morning. But, Jane, my son is dying. What else could possibly matter?”
Jane lowered her head, and Zach caught her chin, lifted it, searched her beautiful eyes. “You don’t want me to go back. Why, Jane?”
She parted her lips, but closed them again.
“It’s all right. I think I know why.” And then, very slowly, he lowered his head, and touched her lips with his. They trembled against his mouth, and the desire he’d felt for her all along came flooding back, swamping him, shaking him to the core. He slipped his arms around her slender waist and pulled her close to him, tight to his body. His mouth fed on hers as her lips parted. A tremulous sigh escaped her, and he inhaled it, relished it, as her arms crept around him. Her hands clasped his shoulders, and she arched against him.
Dazed and aroused beyond reason, Zach lifted his head. “I want you, Jane. I want you to the point of distraction.”
He lifted one hand to thread his fingers in her hair, while the other remained at the small of her back, holding her tight to him.
“I…” she breathed, and then stiffened, her eyes widening as she stared up at him. “No,” she said softly, and there was no mistaking what he saw in those eyes. It was fear. “No, I won’t fall…not again.”
And then she turned and ran from the bedroom. Something compelled Zach to move. He lunged for the door and watched her run down the hall to her own room. Watched her go through the door, closing it hard behind her. And then he heard the gentle sounds of her bedsprings creaking as she lay down. He closed his eyes and told his imagination to behave itself. And while he was at it, he told his heart to go back to sleep, where it had been for the past six years, and to stop yearning for things it could never have.
God, he must be suffering mental, as well as physical, exhaustion for these thoughts to keep creeping in. He needed to sleep.
But not just yet. He had a mission tonight, and nothing, not even Jane and the fearful yearning in her eyes, was going to stop him from accomplishing it.
He was not the man she’d been wishing for. Not the father she’d longed for Cody to have and not the man of her dreams. He was a womanizer, dubbed the Don Juan of his time in one of the books she’d read. And even if that was an exaggeration, one fact could not be overlooked. He was going to leave her. Just as Greg had. She would not give in to the feelings that kept creeping in, like slow-moving waves eroding a sandy shore. She would not let her heart be broken again.
She wouldn’t.
And yet she lay awake for hours, wishing that there was some way…
God, she hadn’t even told him why he couldn’t go ahead with his plan. And even when he realized how impossible it was, he’d still want to go back to his son, to be with him at the end. The thought brought tears to Jane’s eyes. He’d hate her for what she had to tell him. Hate her for being the one to make him realize that it was his son’s destiny to die, and thereby save countless lives. Hate her. He’d hate her.
And it was going to kill her to see that emotion in his eyes when she told him.
She couldn’t sleep. She felt sick to her stomach, and after tossing and turning restlessly she got up, intending to go downstairs, maybe do some pacing, and rehearse the words she would use to deliver the blow that might very well destroy Zachariah Bolton.
She tiptoed down the hall, but when she came to the door of the bedroom where Zach was sleeping, she found her feet wouldn’t go any farther. It was stupid. He was asleep by now. No light came from beneath the closed door. But she couldn’t go past without at least peeking in, just glancing at him as he lay there, drinking in the sight of him and wishing things could be different.
How had the man managed to get under her skin so thoroughly in so short a time?
She closed her hand around the doorknob, opened it gently. But the bed was empty. She stepped into the room, snapping on the light, but Zach wasn’t there. And a gnawing sensation in the pit of her stomach told her he wasn’t anywhere else in the house, either. She had a damned good idea of where he had gone. After she’d expressly told him not to. To Dr. Mulligan’s office, a few miles away. Probably on foot.
Jane closed her eyes and pressed her fingertips to her forehead. Damn him. He had no business being out alone, trying to break and enter, in the condition he was in. No business at all. He could collapse in the street, and then what would happen? Suppose he woke up with no memory again and started rambling on about 1897 and Aunt Hattie’s credenza? They’d toss him into a mental ward, for God’s sake.
She searched the ground floor, all the same, even though she knew full well she wouldn’t find him there. Then she paced the living room. She should go after him. She really should. He could be hurt or sick or delirious somewhere. Or in jail. Oh, for heaven’s sake, and what was she supposed to say when she found him? How was she going to explain that she’d known he’d gone out? Was she going to confess that she’d been lonely and restless and unable to sleep? Was she going to admit that she’d slipped out of bed and tiptoed down the hallway in the dead of night, and that she’d quietly eased the bedroom door open so that she could look at him as he slept?
No way in hell.
But she couldn’t very well leave Cody alone to go after him, either. And she couldn’t wake her son up, or the little mischief-maker would want to go along on Zach’s crime spree. He’d want to…
An odd little feeling rippled up her spine and into the back of her neck. A feeling only another mother would understand. Frowning, she tilted her head, narrowed her eyes. Cody…
She hurried up to the guest room where Cody had been sleeping and slipped inside, and then she had what felt distinctly like heart palpitations.
Cody’s bed was empty.
“Zach, look out!”
Zach dropped to his knees automatically at the harsh whisper. And then he turned, squinting through the darkness at the small body that had landed there beside him. An automobile passed, its headlamps brushing the bushes in front of them with white light, then fading in the distance.
Zach gripped Cody’s shoulders, staring into his fre
ckled face in stark disbelief. “What in the name of heaven are you doing here?”
“I followed you, Zach. Thought I could help. Did you get it?”
Zach pushed a hand through his hair. “If your mother finds out—”
“Did you get it?” Cody asked again, urgency in his tone.
“Yes. I got it.”
“How?” Cody shook Zach’s arm. “How, Zach?”
“I broke a window, reached through and unlocked the door. The cabinet was right where you told m—”
“You shoulda waited for me!” Cody rasped. “Darn it all, Zach, there’s an alarm on that door. Doc has to punch in a code, even though he has a key. If you don’t…I think the sheriff…”
“Let’s get out of here.” Taking Cody’s arm, Zach raced around the building, through the damp grass. He crossed the road, in the darkness. His breaths made little puffs of steam.
“We’ll never make it, Zach. That alarm probably went off as soon as you opened the darn door. Man, we shoulda brought my bike.”
“Oh, sweet Jesus,” Zach said, glancing at a vehicle in the distance with flashing red lights on the top. “Is that—?”
“Yeah, that’s Sheriff O’Donnell. Boy, are we in trouble! My mom’s gonna kill us.” Cody turned in a circle, then paused, at the sight of another vehicle approaching rapidly from the opposite direction. “Look, Zach! I think it’s… Yeah! It’s Mom! C’mon!”
Gripping Zach’s hand, Cody raced toward the approaching vehicle, and away from the one with the red lights. It was dark, and the sheriff’s headlamps hadn’t yet fallen on them. Zach didn’t think the sheriff had seen them. Yet.
“She’ll be mad as all get-out,” Cody panted, still running and clinging to Zach’s hand. “But at least she’ll keep us outta jail!”
She couldn’t believe it. She could not believe what she was seeing. Her son. Her ten-year-old genius son, running away from a police car in the middle of the night, like some kind of fugitive. She gunned the accelerator, sped up beside them and skidded to a stop.
Cody yanked the back door open, and the two of them dived into the back seat just as Quigly O’Donnell’s cruiser pulled up beside Jane’s car.
“Sit there and look innocent,” she ordered. She rolled her window down as Quigly sauntered across the street, looking serious.
“Hello, Sheriff,” she said, and tried to sound cheerful, which was difficult, given the fact that she was grating her teeth behind her smile.
“Well, now, Jane Fortune! What in the world are you doing driving around town this time of the night?” He braced his hands on the driver’s door and leaned closer.
“Couldn’t sleep,” she blurted.
Quigly frowned. “Ayuh. And they couldn’t, either?” He nodded to the two in the back seat.
“Oh…well, no. None of us could. You see, my, uh…my cat disappeared today, and we were worried. So we decided to drive around and see if we could find her.” It was, she thought, the perfect answer. Quigly O’Donnell was a known animal lover. She caught Cody’s smirk in the rearview mirror and realized he’d caught her lying again. Fine example of motherhood she was turning out to be.
“That’s too bad,” the sheriff said, rubbing his chin with one hand. “And here I didn’t even know you had a cat. Any sign of her?”
“No, not yet.”
“Well, now, don’t you worry. Just give me a description, and I’ll keep an eye out.”
“Uh…sure. She’s, um…”
“Black,” Cody helpfully supplied. Unfortunately, he blurted it out at the same moment his mother said, “White” and Zach said, “Cinnamon.”
Jane shot the two bigmouths a glare, then turned to the sheriff again, smiling. “Calico.”
“I see. She wearin’ a collar?”
“Shouldn’t this wait for another time, Sheriff? I don’t want to keep you. You were obviously on business.” She nodded toward the still-flashing lights.
“Ayuh, but nothing too urgent. Doc Mulligan’s alarm went off again. Third time this month. I have to head over there and check it out, but I do believe he has a critter living in his office. Sets off the motion detector when it crosses the beam, you know. Squirrel or a mouse or something. Say, why did you pull over out here? Did you see something?”
“Uh…no. I mean…just your lights. I thought it was the law, you know, pulling over when…”
“Well, not when you’re headin’ the opposite direction.”
“Oh.”
He stuck his head right in her window. “You must be Bolton. I heard you were, er…staying with Miss Fortune.”
“Renting a room, actually. Good to meet you, Sheriff.” Zach thrust one hand over the seat to shake Quigly’s.
“Renting a room, eh?” It was obvious the man doubted that little ploy. “Well, it’s a pleasure, Bolton. I’d best be on my way, take a look around the doc’s place.” He touched the brim of his hat. “I’ll keep an eye out for that cat of yours, Jane.”
“Night,” she said, and pulled the car into gear.
She paced. Back and forth across the sizable living room, crossing between Zach’s easy chair and the red-orange glow in the fireplace, again and again. And he watched, waited, feeling a bit the way he had when Headmistress Landon had caught him smuggling that pet mouse into primary school so long ago. Although Miss Landon had never looked quite as attractive as Jane did right now. She was even prettier in her anger, and that struck him as unusual in a woman. Her eyes sparkled with it. Her smooth cheeks had taken on a cherry gleam, and her lips were slightly parted.
Cody had wisely chosen to obey without question when she sent him straight up to bed. The little hellion got him in all sorts of hot water and then skinned out at the first opportunity, leaving Zach to face the music alone.
Smart boy.
Oh, well. At least it had given him the chance to see Jane this way. It wasn’t a sight he’d forget anytime soon.
She paused in her pacing and looked at him. He decided to face the music, cleared his throat and said, “I had no idea Cody was following me.”
She rolled her eyes, shook her head.
“I slipped out very quietly, Jane. I thought you were both sound asleep. I wouldn’t involve the boy in a theft. You must believe that.”
Her eyes narrowed.
“I have a son of my own, Jane. I’m a parent, too.”
That soft chin came down, the clenched jaw eased a little, and air rushed from her lips in a sigh. “I know. Okay, Zach, I believe you. But I told you not to—”
“Try to imagine yourself in my place, just for a moment.”
Jane’s thickly lashed eyes slammed closed, as if, perhaps, she didn’t want to imagine any such thing. But, perhaps, was doing so anyway.
“Your son—your Cody—lies dying of the fever. And a mile from you, under lock and key, is a drug that can save him. Would you go after it?” He got to his feet and went to her, cradled her chin in his palm and lifted it, very gently, so that he could look into those stunning eyes. “Would you, Jane, even though some very beautiful, very wise person had advised against it?”
She held his gaze. “You know I would.”
He smiled, nodding as his hand fell to his side again. “And I knew you’d answer honestly. I have it now, Jane.” He took the small plastic pill bottle from his pocket, set it on the coffee table and stared at it, barely able to contain his joy. “I can save my Benjamin. If I can just get back to him, I can—”
“No, Zach,” she whispered. “No, you can’t.”
He frowned and felt his smile slowly die. “Of course I can.”
“Zach…” She shook her head as if in frustration. “Look, there’s something I haven’t told you. I thought it could wait until you were feeling better, stronger— No, that’s a lie. I was waiting because I didn’t want to tell you. I couldn’t find the words, and I don’t want to see the hatred in your eyes when I—” She bit her lip.
“Jane.” She stopped her rambling, looked at him, and to Zach’s
surprise there were tears standing in her eyes. His own reflection shimmered in them. The sight of those tears alarmed him beyond all common sense. So much so that he found himself gripping her shoulders, searching her face. “My God, Jane, what is it?”
She sniffed once, and then seemed to draw herself up. “Quinaria fever was cured because of Benjamin’s death,” she told him. “When you disappeared, Zach, your colleagues, Waterson and Bausch, came together. Instead of competing against one another, they worked together to develop a cure, and they did. They did it in tribute to you, Zach, and to your loss. The loss of all those other lives was never enough to inspire them the way the loss of a man they considered to be the finest scientific mind of their time did. They thought you’d gone insane when Benjamin died, and you disappeared. They blamed it on the fever.”
Zach blinked down at her, shaking his head in disbelief.
“It’s all here,” she said as she turned from him to pick up the large book that laid on the table. “Zach, if you save your son, those men won’t find a cure. Maybe no one will. If you change the past that way—” she shook her head slowly “—then what becomes of the present? How many hundreds of people will die? And how many thousands of their descendants will never be born? What about—”
“Stop!” Zach turned away from her, pressing his hands to his ears. Because he couldn’t bear to hear her, and know she was right. So right, and yet she hadn’t even touched on the magnitude of the implications. The way the life—or the death—of one little boy could change the world as she knew it. The succession of other research that had likely sprung from what science learned in curing one disease had probably led to cures for several others. All of that might be lost. And the victims those diseases took…. some of them might turn out to be today’s most influential figures. What would Jane’s world look like if they’d never been born, because their ancestors had died of something that should have been cured?
Soft hands came to his shoulders from behind. They squeezed, and then Jane’s head lowered to rest lightly against his back. “I’m sorry.”
“I can’t…” he said, then had to pause to clear his throat. “I can’t simply give up, Jane. There has to be a way.”
A Husband in Time Page 8
