Sudden Insight

by Rebecca York

  Now he felt his heart slamming against the inside of his chest as he gathered her to him.

  He was lost in the taste of her, the feel of her mouth on his. They had traveled on an extraordinary journey, but his only reality was the warm, pliant woman in his arms.

  And he heard her thoughts echoing his.

  It was the same for her. The very same.

  When her hands slid to his hips, and she pulled him to her, rocking her body against the rigid flesh behind his fly, he thought he would go out of his mind.

  Then her hands were at the button of his jeans. When she’d opened it, she began lowering the zipper.

  Exactly what he’d been silently begging her to do.

  And he did the same for her, helping her shuck off the jeans that had kept them from making love before their strange journey.

  He wanted her with a physical need that bordered on madness, but that was only a small part of what he felt for her.

  With her he could have all the things he’d always craved. Things he had never allowed himself to put into words.

  Because he still could hardly believe them, he focused on the physical. He wanted to arouse her slowly, to enjoy every moment of her pleasure before he took anything for himself.

  He caressed her from shoulder to hip, enjoying the feel of his hand sliding over her silky skin and the feel of her body stirring under his touch.

  Delicately he stroked the inner curve of one breast, then the other, gratified when he heard her breath catch and then quicken for him.

  She liked what he was doing. He knew that from her physical response and from her thoughts. Still, he caught her frustration and realized she wasn’t going to let him slow them down.

  Before he could do anything about it, she had pushed him to his back and climbed on top of him, bringing him inside her. She hardly waited for the two of them to absorb that sensation before she began to move, setting a frantic rhythm that pushed them toward a blazing climax that flashed through them like strokes of lightning.

  He felt her contract around him, felt her pleasure wash over him, felt more than he had ever felt possible.

  Then she collapsed on top of him in a damp heap, and they clung together.

  He wrapped his arms around her as they lay panting on the bed. Neither of them had to ask if it had been good. They both knew.

  He closed his eyes, stroking his lips against her cheek.

  Did you ever travel in time like that before?

  Never. You?

  No.

  Why was Evelyn Morgan there?

  I don’t know.

  Is that how she knew us? She’d seen us before.

  He thought about that. She was younger. We were in her past, but she was seeing us the way we are now.

  But did she remember that when she came to New Orleans to find us?

  Again, there was no sure answer.

  We could have warned her.

  About something that was going to happen a quarter century later?

  She made a rough sound. I guess you’re right.

  We had to get away.

  She nodded against his shoulder.

  When he started to sit up, she kept her hand on his arm. Stay with me for a while.

  He lay back down and tried to relax, but he knew she felt his tension—mental and physical.

  Finally she rolled to her side. Okay. Go check your computer.

  Sorry.

  No, you’re right. We can’t just stay here enjoying ourselves. We have to figure out where the Solomon Clinic is.

  He got up and got the laptop that he’d brought. When he turned back, he saw her straightening the bed.

  Setting the computer down again, he helped her pull up the sheet, blanket and spread.

  As she reached for her bra and panties, he stifled his impulse to stop her.

  Modesty.

  Less fun.

  More focus on business.

  As a concession to that idea, he pulled on his briefs before punching up the pillow and climbing back into bed.

  Rachel moved beside him so she could see the screen while he did a Google search.

  He put in the date he thought was right for their visit, then the Solomon Clinic and the Waterside Restaurant.

  In seconds the search engine had come back with the name of a town.

  Houma, Louisiana.

  They looked at each other.

  “Not too far from here. I guess you were right about which direction to head in.” He checked a little further. “The Waterside Restaurant’s still there.” It had a website, and he clicked on a picture of the deck out back, which didn’t look too different from when they’d seen it before, although the furniture had been updated.

  “Maybe we can get some crawfish étouffée. And some information.”

  Maybe we have to be cautious. Eric Smithson might be waiting in town, hoping we’ll show up.

  How would he know we’d go there?

  If he knows about the place, he might assume we’d be trying to find out about it. But we have to take that chance.

  He moved restlessly on the bed. “I’d like to flush him out—if he’s there.”

  “After we get a little sleep,” she countered.

  “Are you stalling?”

  “You know I am. But I’m also exhausted. It’s not a good idea to go into a situation that could be dangerous when we’re not at our best.”

  He took her point. He was also grappling with the impulse to drive right past Houma and keep going, but he had the feeling they would never be safe if they kept running. And he knew from her churning thoughts that she agreed.

  Despite his eagerness to get the search over with, he settled down beside her on the bed.

  He’d thought he was too keyed up to sleep, but maybe time travel took a lot of energy.

  They were both asleep within minutes and stayed that way for several hours.

  And she was right. When he woke up, he was feeling better able to cope with whatever was in Houma.

  While Rachel took a shower, he did some more research on Houma.

  “What do we know about the place?” Rachel asked when she came out of the bathroom.

  “The population is around one hundred twenty-five thousand. You can book swamp tours and fishing expeditions, eat spicy Cajun food, walk bird trails in the wildlife park.”

  “It’s not all that large.”

  “But it has a long history and a historic downtown area. The Terrebonne Parish Courthouse is located there.”

  “No mention of a Solomon Clinic?”

  “No.”

  “Maybe we should change our appearance before we go there,” she said.

  “You mean more than a change of clothing.”

  “Yeah. As you pointed out, it’s a small place. I don’t want to be recognized.”

  They stopped at a big-box shopping mall where he told her to see if she could find a blond wig. Meanwhile, he bought work boots, a cowboy hat and a denim shirt, which he tore the sleeves off of and wore open down the front.

  “Nice,” she murmured when she saw him.

  “So are you,” he answered, taking in the wig.

  “You like me as a blonde?”

  She answered her own question. Don’t bother to lie. I’ll get rid of the damn thing as soon as I can.

  They both put on sunglasses as they drove away from the shopping center.

  They stopped for burgers, which they ate as they drove toward the town.

  He’d looked at some pictures on the web, but it was a strange experience driving into Houma.

  “Do you recognize anything?” she asked after they’d entered the city limits.

  “I’m not sure. Maybe I have some vague memory of coming to a place like this, but it has to have changed over the years.”

  The area was bounded by rivers and bayous. They had to cross a bridge to get into town and another soon after. They headed for the downtown area. As they drove past art galleries, T-shirt shops and restaurants, t
hey kept an eye out for the man who had tried to take them captive twice.

  Finally they passed the Waterside Restaurant.

  “In our…vision…we came down the street from the Solomon Clinic,” Rachel said. “It was only a few doors away.

  “The restaurant’s still here.” She gestured toward what she thought was the location of the clinic. “But that building doesn’t look like what we saw. Does it to you?”

  “No.” He eyed the structure. “It looks like newer construction.”

  “They must have torn the place down.”

  He made a rough sound. “Maybe they thought it was haunted.”

  “Or something.” After a long moment, Rachel cleared her throat.

  Before she could speak, Jake said, “You’re right.”

  “What are you, a mind reader or something?”

  She laughed, and he went on.

  “The clinic’s gone, and we’re not going to find out anything unless we start asking some questions.”

  “But where should we start?”

  “Maybe a casual conversation in a restaurant.”

  They stopped at a place called Big Ralph’s, where the decor was simple and rustic, and a sign told them to seat themselves.

  After they’d claimed a wooden booth in the back, a short, plump woman who looked to be in her fifties came over to take their order. Her name tag identified her as Maddie.

  By mutual agreement, Rachel was the one who struck up a conversation. “We’d just like a snack. What do you recommend?”

  “The shrimp gumbo is excellent.”

  Rachel looked at Jake. “We could each have a bowl.”

  “Sounds good to me.”

  “And sweetened iced tea.”

  After they’d placed their order, Jake sat back and stretched out his legs.

  When the waitress brought the tea, he said, “So what do you recommend for someone with a few days in town?”

  “Do you like to fish?”

  “Uh-huh. Do you have nature walks?” Rachel asked.

  “Sure do. You can pick up some brochures by the door.”

  “What about a bed-and-breakfast with cottages?”

  She thought for a moment. “The Magnolia House would be perfect. It’s very charming. Mrs. Madison runs the place and cooks wonderful breakfasts. Do you want me to call and find out if they have a cottage available?”

  “That would be very nice of you, but we don’t want you to go to any trouble.”

  “No trouble at all.”

  “Then thanks so much,” Rachel answered.

  The woman was back with their gumbo and a smile on her face in a few minutes. “Mrs. Madison is holding a cottage for you,” she said as she set down their bowls. She also had a slip of paper with the address and phone number of the B&B.

  “We’ll go over as soon as we finish eating,” Jake said.

  Rachel set down her spoon. “I’m a history buff. I was looking at the history of the town, and I came across a place called the Solomon Clinic.”

  Jake saw the waitress stiffen.

  “The Solomon Clinic,” she said slowly. “How did you hear about that?”

  “It came up when I was talking to a woman who said she’d been there as a child.”

  “It’s closed,” the waitress said, her voice turning icy.

  “I see.”

  “It wasn’t one of the scenic attractions in town.”

  “What did they do there?”

  “I really don’t know.” The waitress turned away abruptly and left the table.

  That question certainly got a reaction.

  Uh-huh.

  The place must have had some kind of bad reputation.

  We’ll check into the Magnolia House, then ask around some more.

  Is that a good idea?

  What do you suggest?

  Perusing old newspapers.

  Okay.

  As soon as they’d finished their gumbo, the waitress was back with the check. Her smile was gone, and she didn’t have any more conversational gambits.

  Jake paid in cash, and they left quickly.

  In the car he said, “We’ll use the name on my alternate credit card. Mr. and Mrs. Jack Le Barron.”

  “Okay.” She sighed. “What’s my name?”

  He thought for a moment. “It should start with the same letter. What about Reagan?”

  Jake consulted the address, then stopped at a gas station to ask directions. The Magnolia House bed-and-breakfast was located outside of town on a wooded tract off the main road.

  Fifteen minutes later, they found a sign advertising the establishment and turned in at an access road through stands of oak and cypress trees.

  Up ahead was a circular driveway in front of a red brick mansion with a portico and white columns out front.

  “This really is lovely,” Rachel murmured.

  Jake nodded. He didn’t particularly care about the accommodations, but if a nice room made a difference to Rachel, he didn’t mind.

  Thanks.

  He was still disconcerted to discover that what was intended as a private thought was being picked up by someone else.

  She didn’t comment on that as they climbed out of the car and started toward the sign that said Office.

  Before they reached the door, a woman came hurrying out. She looked to be in her sixties, with short salt-and-pepper hair, large brown eyes and a worried expression.

  “Did Maddie from Big Ralph’s send you over?”

  “Yes,” Rachel answered.

  “I’m so sorry, but she was mistaken. I don’t have a cottage to rent—or anything in the main house, either.”

  Jake stared at her, wishing he had the ability to read more than Rachel’s mind.

  Figuring he had nothing to lose, he said, “Are you turning us away because we were interested in the Solomon Clinic?”

  She blanched. “We don’t like to talk about that place.”

  “Why not?”

  “I’d prefer not to continue the topic.”

  Before he could say anything else, she turned and hustled back into the office.

  They stood staring after her.

  “Well, that was…something,” Rachel murmured as she stared at the doorway through which Mrs. Madison had disappeared.

  He reached for her hand. “I’m sorry. I know you were looking forward to staying somewhere charming.”

  “It’s not that important.”

  Of course, he didn’t believe her. They’d been under a lot of pressure, and she’d wanted to enjoy some of the town ambience, but neither one of them wanted to continue the discussion.

  As they drove away, she made a quick change of subject. “Do you think the clinic was unpopular here? Or is there a conspiracy to protect it?”

  “It could be either. Or both.”

  “Is there a library in town?”

  “I think we passed one. I guess we’d better stop bringing up the subject with residents and just stick with newspaper files.”

  “We have no idea what we’re looking for. Or even what year,” Rachel said.

  “We know it was in existence when we were here…” He stopped and thought about himself and Rachel as they’d been when they’d seen the children. “At least when we were three or four or five. Can you think of any other clues?”

  “Could we go back there instead of the library? I mean, to the building that’s sitting where the clinic used to be.”

  “Sure.” He turned the car around and headed back to the downtown area, then found the Waterside Restaurant again and pulled a few doors down to where they thought the clinic would have been.

  “I’m getting out,” Rachel said.

  “Wait a minute. What do you expect to find?”

  “I don’t know, but I have the feeling that I’ll pick up something.”

  “Do you need me with you?”

  “Let me try it alone. So you don’t have to find a parking space down here.”

  He looked around and d
idn’t see anyone obviously watching them, but what if that Smithson guy had come to town and was waiting for them at this spot? The thought made his stomach knot.

  I don’t think he’s here, she reassured him as she headed for the building that stood on the old clinic site. After looking up and down the street again, she reached to press her palm against the brick exterior.

  For long moments, her expression didn’t change. Then she closed her eyes.

  And he heard her gasp.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Jake was about to scramble out of the car, when Rachel came running back and climbed into the passenger seat.

  “What was that?” he asked as he lurched away from the curb.

  “It burned.”

  “What burned? What are you talking about?”

  She put her hand on his arm, pressing her fingers into his flesh as she sent him a vivid picture of the clinic building as they’d seen it earlier.

  Flames leaped through the waiting room, caught the draperies, climbed up the walls. As he stared at the awful scene, he had the same shocked reaction that she had. They’d been in that room!

  The flames interfered with his vision, and he pulled into the parking lot of a bank where he sat behind the wheel, breathing hard.

  “Sorry,” she whispered.

  “It’s okay.” He threw his head back, leaning against the seat. “At least the waiting room was empty.”

  “Thank the Lord. I think the fire took place at night.”

  “What happened? Was it an accident?”

  “No.”

  He turned to her questioningly.

  “I saw that part, too. Do you want to see?”

  “Yeah.”

  She kept her hand on his arm and sent him another picture—that of a shadowy figure, with a stocking mask over his face, moving through the waiting room. Because it was dark, it was hard to see clearly, but Jake could tell that the man was holding a can of gasoline and sloshing it onto the floor and furnishings. Then he walked through a door and into the back of the clinic. Rachel stayed with him as he walked past examination rooms and offices, continuing to spread the gasoline around.

  When he reached an exit, he pushed it open and stepped out into an alley where he struck a match and tossed it inside. He stood for a moment, watching the flames spring up, then he closed the door and walked away down the alley.