A Different Time

by Donna Steele

  From the look on Ben’s face, he needed more reassurance. Dusty approached him and clasped his shoulder. “She reached her potential, she became the woman and doctor you know now and I’ve fallen in love with. I’ve seen her in action and she is that strong woman.”

  Crap, he hadn’t meant to mention the ancestors he had saved while in 1891, not in front of Dad. His father had no idea who Daniel or William was. Dusty had no intention of explaining his statement. That information had to be held confidential to keep Dee and him out of some mental institution.

  After a long moment, Ben slowly nodded.

  Dad cleared his throat. The pointed sound made Dusty wince. “Obviously I’m in the dark here about more than one aspect of our conversation,” he began, “and I’m not sure that’s a bad thing. Right now, I’m wondering about Roger’s hand. What happened?”

  “His hand?” Dee asked.

  Dusty returned to her side, clasping her fingers and taking a deep, relieved breath at the change in subject. “I couldn’t see it well. It looked red from where I sat.” He lowered his voice to a soft murmur. “I think blisters were forming. It’s the reason I checked your arm.”

  “That makes no sense,” Dee whispered. “How?”

  “It was like a strong buzz.” Dusty chose his words carefully, mindful of others in the room. “I felt it, but not to the extent Roger probably did.”

  “I should have checked him out.”

  “He wouldn’t have allowed it.” Ben sighed. “Just as well. If he’s injured he should go get it examined, but not by you.”

  “I’m speaking like an engineer here.” Dusty’s father joined the conversation. “The man only touched Dee’s arm. Though touch is too mild a term for the way he latched on to you, I know.” Dad’s words held an apology. “There didn’t seem to be anything to conduct electricity, and there was no fire, no spark. It was odd.”

  “I’ll agree with you there,” Dusty put in. “It looked as though something didn’t like the way he grabbed you and was quicker than I was in order to stop it.”

  “I’m not going to ask the several thousand questions I have for now, but I think if we’re going to be attending a wedding tomorrow, or later today—”Dad glanced at his watch—“we should try to get some sleep.”

  Dusty hated to ask but felt he should. “Dee, do you want to postpone the wedding?”

  “No! To hell with everything else, I want to be your wife.”

  At those words he managed a smile. “Good.”

  Chapter 11

  Guardian Enclave

  Cael waited as the Elder took in her statement.

  “The Essence told you.”

  “Yes, Elder.”

  There was a long silence. Not meeting the Elder’s eyes, Cael felt guilt rise. Was this something she had caused with her work as a Guardian? What were the implications for the future?

  “Come. We will meet with the Elders.”

  Nodding, Cael hurried after the Elder who strode down the corridor with some haste. The last meeting had ended with little decided. Assigned with attempting to contact the Essence, her Elder had reported no success, at least to Cael’s knowledge.

  Doing all she could to assist, Cael spent long sessions with the Elder in an attempt to aid communications. The Essence had an agenda of her own. Or—and this was Cael’s opinion—wasn’t able to completely control her growing powers.

  Which was not a comforting thought.

  The blue hood covering her mentor’s head fell back as she hurried down the hallway and she didn’t bother to reposition it as she skirted around an Acolyte who hadn’t moved out of the way fast enough.

  Cael wished she could get a briefing from her mentor prior to the meeting. And knew the futility of such a wish.

  ~ ~ ~

  Home World of the Malveks

  Braxal entered the congregating chamber as the irritated growls of the other warriors, milling around and waiting, echoed against the stone walls of the large room. Only the Malvek warriors currently on the home world were in attendance. The others would be sent the information following the meeting.

  “Braxal! What gives you the right to call this assembly? I have real work to do.” It was Tharal, an older warrior. He’d gone fat since Braxal had last seen him, and moved slower than a torgar in cold weather. He would not last long as head of his territory. Even now he had taken a position in a shaft of sunlight to warm his old bones.

  Braxal did not bother to challenge him. He had every right to request a conclave, as did any other warrior. This was an attack on their entire species.

  Turning his back on the older warrior, Braxal spoke to the room. “I called for this gathering to discuss a threat to the empire. The Guardians are interfering in our space again and must be stopped.”

  “The Guardians?” The old warrior laughed. “They are only myths now. You are jumping at shadows, Braxal.”

  “Have you attained the seventh level?” Braxal asked.

  Tharal’s face tightened. “Hoodoo, seventh level. Bah!” Grumbling was heard from most of the older warriors.

  “The levels are not hoodoo, Tharal. The Guardians can manipulate time and they are interfering in our space. Look!” Braxal motioned for the tech accompanying him to display the area of space that had first drawn his attention. The small, blue-white planet appeared on screens around the room.

  “It is a planet, what of it?” Tharal’s voice was cold.

  “Do you not see the wave of time disparity emanating from this world? Its history has been altered. This planet was advancing toward being an ideal site for Malvek expansion. Growing warmer, water rising . . . it was well on its way to becoming a perfect home for us. Now it has been ruined, destroyed for our purposes. The Guardians changed this species’ past to manipulate the very planet itself.”

  “Nonsense. That is not possible!”

  “This is the third planet I have found with these distortions. Can you not see it for yourself?”

  Tharal’s beady eyes shone colder than usual as he refused to even glance at the display.

  Another warrior, Gsark, stepped forward and looked closely at the screen. “It is true.”

  Braxal scanned the warrior. He was young, but in excellent shape. Braxal had heard of this warrior’s prowess in battle and he displayed grand scars already. It was known that Gsark had spawned four warriors so far in his brief life, a nearly unheard-of feat in the recent past. Rumor said he had a favorite female and had spawned them all from her. Unlikely, but it appeared he could discern the distortions.

  Gsark raised a claw and pointed to the screen. “Here, you can see it as a wave leaving the planet.”

  Braxal nodded. “What level have you completed?”

  “Seventh.”

  Braxal hid his surprise. He himself had not completed the final level. Gsark could be a fearsome foe in the future.

  “I see nothing,” Tharal growled.

  Again Gsark touched the presentation. “It is here. The wave of change occurred and is now emanating to the galaxy. The planet has been ruined for our kind. I have heard of no species able to manipulate time other than the Guardians, so I would agree with Braxal they are the ones interfering with our expansion.”

  “The two of you are conspiring to confuse us. I see no emanations.”

  Braxal turned to the other warriors. “Do you see this distortion?” he demanded.

  Only the younger warriors stepped forward to look. Warriors of Gsark’s generation, only two from Braxal’s, observed the screen closely. Several of them nodded.

  “How do we fight time?” one of them asked. “Does anyone know where the Guardians’ planet is?”

  Silence consumed the room.

  Rather than answer, Tharal and several other Malveks of his age st
alked from the conclave.

  “Son of a torgar. Does age blind a warrior?” Braxal’s neck ridge rose in his anger.

  “They are mostly dead. Their clans will be absorbed shortly. None has spawned a warrior in decades. It is our time to lead,” Gsark said, and to Braxal’s surprise other warriors of an age agreed.

  This younger generation cooperated with one another?

  New thoughts formed in Braxal’s mind. Could he use these younger warriors?

  “Gsark, I wish to confer with you, in private.”

  ~ ~ ~

  Guardian Enclave

  All seven of the Elders were in attendance, five in person when they entered the room. Other Guardians also stood behind their mentors.

  “Cael has information for us.” The Elder spoke without calling the assembly to order.

  Cael came forward, only one step behind the Elder as she heard the indrawn breaths around the room. The Elder had once more used her birth name. Was that due to anxiety over the news, or to make the meeting less formal? Cael met the Elder’s eye and was given an infinitesimal nod.

  “The race known as the Malveks have become aware of the time manipulation around the planet known as Earth,” she began, then paused as audible muttering churned through the room, revealing the level of agitation this news had created.

  “How could they learn of these developments?” The demand was addressed to Cael’s mentor.

  Staring at the floor, Cael awaited her answer.

  “We are uncertain, but over generations they too have evolved. Guardians will be assigned to observe and report their abilities to us,” the elder replied.

  “Will action be taken?”

  “The fact the Malveks are aware shows evolution. We do not interfere with such activity, though subtle leading might be in the future for them.”

  All of the Guardians bowed.

  And Cael wondered who would receive that assignment.

  Chapter 12

  Washington, D.C.

  Dusty kept a protective eye on Dee as she readied for their wedding. She appeared calm, almost serene which was remarkable given last night’s events.

  Now he had a greater understanding of Dee’s reluctance to contact her mother and stepfather, though neither had been aware of the true extent of the circumstances prior to the dinner. The whole thing had been worse than he had envisioned, and he hated to see her deal with such a mess. Wasn’t a woman supposed to be happy on her wedding day, with her mother around to support and indulge her?

  Maybe he’d never given weddings in general any thought, but he wanted Dee happy.

  They’d discussed the whole “not seeing the bride before the wedding” superstition, but under these circumstances decided they could chance it. Besides, helping with her zipper—and again assuring her the pregnancy did not show—seemed to steady both of them.

  She’d chosen a creamy dress that came to her knees and made her pale complexion glow. Beads were sewn all around the top of the dress, and she’d left her hair down. Dusty saw a few beads winking here and there through the thick strands, redder than ever probably due to all the time they’d spent out of doors in the past.

  He had not one qualm about marrying her. The uncertainty came from who might show up at the gardens as witness. Ben and his father were the two they wanted at their sides. No one else.

  “Are you ready?” Dee asked, breaking into his thoughts.

  “More than you can know.” He kissed her knuckles and she blushed.

  Blushed.

  They hadn’t made love last night, in anticipation of their wedding night as well as the fact they were both emotionally and physically exhausted from the evening. He might’ve held her too tightly most of the night, but she hadn’t complained. Neither had slept much, though she drifted off for a long nap around three.

  As Dusty finished donning his best suit, he couldn’t help but miss his friends from Braddock’s Crossing—and wonder how Caleb, proprietor extraordinaire from the town Mercantile, would have dressed him for this occasion.

  ~ ~ ~

  Dee could easily sense how distracted her husband-to-be’s thoughts had become. Still upset about last night’s revelations, he’d taken it harder than she had. Roger had never laid a hand on her, she was certain of it. With no memory of him, to her surprise that fact had allowed her to set the idiot aside. Investigating ways for her mother to escape the man was a task for later. She’d appeared in no hurry to leave him last night.

  “Ready?” Dee held out her hand.

  “More than ready. You’re sure this guy is going to show up?”

  “Randy is a chaplain at the hospital. He was more than pleased to do this for us. You have the license?”

  Dusty patted the inner pocket of his suit coat. “Come on, so I can be Mr. Stevens for real.”

  She laughed aloud. They’d agreed she would remain Dr. Stevens for professional purposes, but Dee was delighted to finally become Mrs. Dustin Williams in real life.

  ~ ~ ~

  Both their fathers waited at the entrance to the hospital gardens. Dee noted how well they were getting along and felt true relief. Their initial meeting hadn’t been especially smooth, but it looked as though they could be friends now.

  Her father’s tentative smile grew when he saw her, a full-blown grin with more than a touch of relief. Dee kissed both men and led them to the area where the wedding would be performed.

  It was a beautiful day with white puffy clouds dotting the sky and a slight breeze that tossed a few strands of her hair.

  Flowers were in full bloom and the small nosegay of violets Evan offered—to Dee’s delight—added just the right touch.

  After a quick introduction to Randy Chesterfield, they took their places in front of the chaplain.

  The ceremony was short, and Dee glanced in surprise at the antique-looking ring Dusty slipped on her finger. I bet there’s a story behind it.

  She’d ask later. The plain gold band he now wore fit perfectly.

  After a few pictures, they all retired to a teashop just off the gardens for refreshments. The owner pulled out the small wedding cake Dusty had secreted there earlier, and more pictures were taken. Randy left shortly, after congratulating them both once again.

  Her father rose first. “We need to give the newlyweds some alone time.”

  Evan stood as well. “I agree. I know you’re not planning a honeymoon right now, but you don’t need us hanging around. We’re headed to the jetport together, so you don’t have to worry about transportation either.”

  “You really don’t have to leave so soon.” Dee spoke quickly.

  “She’s right,” Dusty agreed. “We’re enjoying having you here.”

  “I believe you, son. I promise to be back soon and more often. I’m getting used to the idea of this grandfather gig and I’m kind of excited about it.”

  “You’ll be welcome any time. You can both take turns walking the kid at two in the morning.”

  They all chuckled, and hugs were exchanged. Once the owner boxed up the rest of the cake, Dee and Dusty headed home.

  Relaxed yet mostly quiet on the ride to their place, more than once she felt Dusty’s eyes on her.

  “A penny for your thoughts?” he finally asked.

  “Nothing so expensive. I was kind of wishing Elizabeth and Connie and our other friends from Braddock’s Crossing could have been here today. Of course, I wouldn’t have wanted to explain why we were getting married again, but I miss them.”

  “Yeah, me too. We got to be friends with them the old-fashioned way, with more time and conversation. Wonder if we could recreate a group here?”

  “We probably should try.”

  ~ ~ ~

  As they approached the condo, Dusty handed Dee the sm
all box holding the remains of their wedding cake. He pressed his thumb against the security portal to gain access, then without warning, scooped Dee into his arms and carried her across the threshold.

  Laughing, she asked, “Is this still a tradition?”

  “If not, we just brought it back.”

  She dropped the box on the table by the door as he let her legs descend back to the floor. She slithered down his body with a purr, pressing against his obvious ardor. His breath caught as she cupped him through his slacks.

  “Be careful, Mrs. Williams. This could be over before it starts.”

  “Mrs. Williams, that sounds very nice.”

  “What’s nice is our dads decided to go on home.”

  Dee chuckled, running her hand across his chest, down his arm, entwining their fingers. She tugged him unresistingly toward the bedroom.

  At the bed she presented her back. “Unzip me.”

  Dusty pulled on the tiny metal tab, allowing the dress to fall to the floor, admiring the pale blue lingerie hidden underneath.

  “This is new.” He fingered the silky material.

  “I ordered it especially for the occasion. It’s from the M and D collection.”

  It took him a moment. “Millie and Daphne?”

  She glanced over her shoulder with a chuckle at his expression. “Yes. I found them online when you and Dad took a break.” Turning, she slipped her hands over his lapels. “The company is still going strong. I imagine it offers a lot sexier line than what Millie would approve. Now, Daphne . . . Anyway, I thought it would cover all four criteria.”

  “What criteria?”

  “Something old, something new, something borrowed.” She rose on tiptoes to whisper in his ear. “Something blue.”