Anywhere You Are

by Constance O'Day-Flannery

  A synthesized tone announced their stop.

  Saved by the bell, she thought. With a deep breath she declared, "I could really use that drink now." Mairie turned out into the lobby. She felt his hand reach out and stroke the length of her arm as she stepped forward. She sensed for an instant his hesitation in holding her hand, then he followed behind her.

  This is definitely going to be some evening, Mairie Callahan, she thought to herself.

  They wound up at the cabaret show in the hotel. She thought of Bryan, in Philadelphia, out of remission, and felt a pang of guilt. After speaking with Marc, she decided not to chance going back to the cave. If the Feds were looking for her, they would be watching that area. And nothing, absolutely nothing, was going to prevent her reunion with Bryan. She knew there was nothing she could do until Marc sent the new IDs, yet a sadness took hold of her. How she missed her brother. Soon… soon she would hold him in her arms and explain everything.

  Mairie immediately ordered a Long Island iced tea and told the scantily clad waitress to keep them coming. She couldn't help but sense the young woman's flirtation toward Jack as he asked for a beer and a shot of whiskey. Mairie didn't blame her, for Jack Delaney was an attention grabber. He'd had hers ever since she'd laid eyes on him. Suddenly, instead of feeling insecure, Mairie felt a rush of pleasure that Jack Delaney was her date. She could say that. It was an almost-kind-of-a-date… she was with him, a man from a hundred years ago, a remarkable man, a charming gentleman. She actually loved his old-world gestures. They were genuine.

  This night might be torture, to be this close to him, to feel everything that was coursing through her mind and her body, and to hold back.

  Her seven months of celibacy suddenly felt like seven years.

  After her second drink, she actually relaxed and grinned at Jack's stunned expression when the floor show started. The women were all tall and beautiful and wore stunning bejeweled costumes of elaborate feather designs. She sat and wondered how they managed to walk in the heavy contraptions. But she had to admit they were lovely and she hoped they got paid a lot of money to prance around in those high heels. Their feet must kill them. Then the magician came out and did a decent imitation of Siegfried and Roy's tiger act. Jack was amazed and Mairie giggled. Okay, she was on her second drink, but his astonishment was so precious, and she was … damn, was she getting drunk?

  Trying not to laugh, she straightened her wig and took a deep breath. She had to keep up with Jack and not make a fool of herself, but the wig did make her scalp itch and she wanted to tear it off her head. She must look like some retro Farrah Fawcett wannabe, but it wasn't all that expensive and she couldn't see spending hundreds of dollars on a better one. Still, it seemed a shame that she had nice clothes somewhere, clothes like the other women in the audience were wearing, and her hair when styled was decent, and makeup… when the hell was the last time she'd worn makeup?

  "Mairie?"

  Stunned out of her pity party, Mairie jumped and looked at Jack. He was smiling at her.

  "Don't you think we should eat something?"

  She stuck her index finger under the flap of wig by her ear and scratched. "You think you can eat now?" she asked over the applause, as the crowd showed their appreciation for the magicians.

  "I think you should. I'm not very hungry, but you haven't had anything today since your ice cream cone." He reached over and tenderly tugged the corner of her wig back into place around her face. "Something light?"

  She nodded, wishing he would touch her again. His fingers had brushed her cheek with such thoughtful familiarity that she almost moaned. "Right, I'll get us a menu."

  "I was looking at this." Jack stated, pulling a small plastic card from behind the centerpiece.

  "Okay, lemme see," she said, to hide the fact that she was distracted by matters that seemed much more important than food. She forced her eyes to focus on the printed words and blinked a few times when she looked up at him. "They only serve appetizers during the show. No dinners. Shall I order for us?"

  "Please," he answered with a lazy smile. He really seemed to be enjoying himself.

  She stared at his mouth for the longest time. In fact, she probably would have continued if Jack didn't suddenly raise his hand slightly to flag the waitress. Naturally, the woman came immediately and couldn't have been more helpful in suggesting which appetizers were the house specialty.

  Mairie sat glumly while watching the interaction. Maybe Jack was right, maybe she needed food. Two drinks on an empty stomach must be the reason she was feeling this defensiveness, as if Jack Delaney belonged to her. How immature. She wasn't a young girl. She was a woman.

  Right… a woman with two Long Island iced teas in her, forced to sit next to a gorgeous man whom she was in love with and must not show how she felt. She wanted another drink, as more beautiful women in costumes followed the magical act to do another number.

  Jack was mesmerized. Hey, she couldn't blame him.

  Their food came quickly and Mairie studied the array of appetizers. Fried mozzarella sticks. Buffalo wings. Fried shrimp. Cris-cut fries. Fried zucchini and onion rings. Ranch sauce, marinara sauce, cocktail sauce. The jalapeño sauce was for the buffalo wings.

  "It smells wonderful." Jack inhaled the aroma of the food.

  "Everything is fried," she said, and wondered if her voice sounded like a whine.

  "Is something wrong?" His expression showed concern.

  She wanted to say that yes… something was wrong. She was getting tipsy. She was miserable in her wig. She couldn't possibly compete with the showgirls or even the waitress for his attention and wanted to take him back to the room, where he was all hers.

  Talk about childish.

  Concentrate on the food, she told herself, and picked up a mozzarella stick. She pointed to each food with her other hand, identifying them with the corresponding sauce. Dipping the cheese stick and swirling, she raised it to her lips. "They're best with the ranch sauce, Jack. Try it. It's… finger food."

  She closed her eyes as she bit down and savored the taste. Melted cheese dangled between her lips.

  "Interesting," he said, squinting at her.

  Now I've got his attention, she thought triumphantly. That, or I'm really making a fool out of myself. At that moment the oh-so-cute waitress brought them each another round of drinks.

  Perfect, she thought, and picked up her glass.

  "And these, Mairie?" he asked, holding up a buffalo wing. "This is a bird of some sort. I've had buffalo, and this isn't it."

  She laughed and took another sip of her drink. "One of the many paradoxes in life, Jack. Buffalos don't have wings, yet you're holding one. Actually, it happens to be named after the city of Buffalo in New York."

  "Why Buffalo?"

  "I don't know," she answered truthfully.

  "Ahh…" he said, and dipped it into the jalapeño sauce.

  Before she could warn him, he bit into it.

  "Wait, that's hot," she said, and marveled as he calmly chewed. "You don't think that's hot, spicy?"

  He grinned and swallowed. "Mairie, I like hot. Remember, Mexico isn't far from here. I'm used to hot foods. And it's a hell of a lot better than prairie dog."

  She picked up her glass. "I'll drink to that."

  Holding him by the arm, she rested her head against his shoulder and squeezed. "This has sefintely been dome evening, Dack Jelaney. I mean, Jack Delaney." She corrected herself and then giggled at her own spoonerism as she fumbled with the electronic lock.

  Smirking at her inebriated state, Jack carefully took the key from her and successfully opened the door. "You're as giddy as a schoolgirl, Mairie Callahan."

  "Thank you, my good man." She threw the purse into a chair and flopped down on her bed. She sat for a moment and evaluated her condition. "I think I'm going to be sick," she stated matter-of-factly. Falling back onto the bed, her arms flung above her head she continued, "I never should have eaten that fried food on top of the alcohol."
>
  "Would you like one of your Alka Seltzer? I can speak from experience, it tastes like hell, but works wonders." He grinned foolishly.

  She burst out laughing. "Best commercial I ever heard."

  "Then I shall prepare some for you, madam, and return henceforth."

  This is absolute insanity, she thought, as she pulled the wig from her head and tossed it across the room. I can't believe I'm living this. This man is incredible. Back in time, forward in time, and having the time of my life. The room started to spin and Mairie struggled to keep herself coherent.

  "Mairie, are you awake?"

  She slowly opened her eyes to see Jack with a fizzing glass in his hand.

  "God, you are beautiful," she mumbled inaudibly.

  "I'm sorry, Mairie, I didn't hear you."

  "Nothing." She struggled to sit up.

  "Let me help you, Mar."

  She felt the care in his embrace as he put his arm around her shoulders and placed the glass to her lips. She swallowed a gulp.

  "Egads. You're right. It does taste like hell." She crinkled her nose. "And the bubbles tickle."

  "Just finish it. If I did, you can. It's a miracle medicine. You'll feel better in a little while."

  She closed her eyes as he tipped the glass for her to finish the last swallow. She felt so cared for in his strong arm. She was entirely safe. There was no assuming here. She knew Jack Delaney's intentions were honorable. He was a rare man, indeed.

  Hearing him place the glass onto the night table she felt him turn back. What a state of bliss… presently, chemically induced… nevertheless, bliss, she thought. She couldn't force her eyes to open. How she wanted this moment to last. But what a sight you must be, Mairie Callahan, she chided herself.

  She felt his finger touch her bottom lip when he brushed away a drop.

  "I'm glad to see you haven't lost the rest of your head." He said, noticing her wig on the floor.

  She lazily opened her reddened eyes and looked across the carpet. They both burst out laughing and a huge belch left Mairie's mouth.

  "Ooops!" she said coyly, covering her lips. "Did that come out of me?"

  "Indeed it did, madam. Now, don't you feel better?" He smiled at her reassuringly.

  "Excuse me, Jack. I'm sorry… really, really sorry. My behavior tonight has been appalling. Now I think I will be sick." She pushed back on his arm to lie down on the bed in embarrassment. She knew she would hate herself even more when the hangover woke her in the morning. But that was time-traveling. Stay in the moment, she reminded herself.

  Heck, it had worked before.

  "Jack, will you do me one more favor?" She stretched herself up to the pillows and turned to see him standing beside her bed.

  "Anything, Mairie. What do you need?"

  He stood, looming above her, having already removed his sweater, and was now unbuttoning his shirt. Oh, not that, she fought her own thoughts, and quickly rolled over.

  She paused and spoke softly. "Jack, would you just… just hold me tonight?" It sounded so female, but it was what she wanted in this moment, to be held.

  He froze in mid-button and looked down at her. She truly was a temptation. He wouldn't be a man if he didn't notice her long black hair fanned against the pillow; the expression on her face, her smooth skin that was turning tan. She had the look of absolute serenity about her. She is a goddess, he thought, then reminded himself he respected her completely.

  Jack lay on the edge of the bed next to her. Mairie didn't move. He slowly eased onto his side and fit his body against her. He felt how well his framed hers. Gently, he placed his arm across the pillow above her head. Mairie lifted her head and softly rested against his arm. The perfume in her hair filled his senses. Gritting his teeth, he drew a deep breath and slowly exhaled. A quiet moan escaped. As though it were the most natural thing in the world, Mairie reached behind her hip, took his hand in hers, and pressed his arm around her waist.

  "Thank you, Jack Delaney," she sighed sleepily. "Good night."

  "Good night, Mairie Callahan, and thank you." He closed his eyes.

  He waited a few seconds and then whispered, "You are an incredible gift."

  His last words went unheard through her slumber.

  Chapter 15

  "Let me entertain you…"

  She awoke to a deep baritone voice singing in the shower. It was Jack, she realized, and snuggled deeper into the pillow. He was singing the opening song from the show they'd seen the night before. Groaning, Mairie opened her lids and slammed them shut immediately as light pierced through to her aching brain. Her hangover alarm echoed relentlessly through her body. Suddenly, from behind the pain, an image came to her consciousness. Something she had seen in the second her eyes opened. She had to make sure. She shielded her eyes with her hand and squinted into the sunlit room.

  Jack's bed hadn't been slept in.

  She remembered, sort of remembered, asking him to sleep with her last night.

  Another deep groan escaped her lips as thinking made her head pound harder. She sensed her blood pumping through her veins and every nerve ending in her body told her reality was here and she wished she wasn't.

  She didn't! She couldn't have! She did! The proof was right there, and he was singing in the shower! Hearing the faucet squeaking off, Mairie lay in bed completely still, attempting to ease the torture and figure out what the heck had happened. Obviously, she'd had too much to drink. She wasn't going to punish herself for that, since she'd had one hell of a week so far, but this… what had she done?

  She'd made a complete fool of herself.

  "Good morning, Mairie. You're awake. It's a beautiful day, and I feel great!"

  His greeting had the opposite effect on her. More evidence that something had happened last night, but what? Part of her was pissed that she couldn't recall much more than falling into bed. It had to have been an incredible experience. What a shame she couldn't remember any of it. Just her luck, to suffer this embarrassment and be left with a blank memory.

  "Good morning," she murmured, as nonchalantly as she could manage. "Are you finished in the bathroom?" She needed to make an escape.

  "Yes. The convenience is all yours."

  Okay, she thought, all she had to do was somehow get up and walk past him. The getting up part seemed monumental. Forcing her body to move, she barely opened her eyes as she sat up. She was in her jeans.

  Her jeans!

  Blinking at her legs, she thought, there's no way he could have gotten her jeans off and back on again … she would have remembered something about that! Relief swept through her body. Nothing had happened. At least, nothing serious. Now her embarrassment was merely from getting soused. But she could deal with that. She couldn't deal with the other. Not that, and not drunk. If it ever happened, she would make sure she was stone cold sober. She didn't want to miss a second.

  "Morning," she whispered again with a weak smile, and walked past him to the bathroom.

  "How are you feeling, Mairie?" he said in a cheerful tone. Way too cheerful for her sensitive ears.

  "Fine, I guess. I'll know better once I wash this hangover out of my head." She shut the door behind her. She didn't mean to be rude, but she needed privacy and a shower before she would feel human again. That, and an industrial-strength painkiller.

  Using the bathroom phone, she ordered breakfast for him, a pot of coffee for her. She turned on the shower water and steam immediately began filling the air. Her clothes almost peeled off her body. Spending over twenty hours in jeans didn't exactly enhance her sleeping experience. Yet she remembered a flash of something. A security. The feeling of being so protected, almost cherished, when she fell asleep.

  She hoped that wasn't her imagination.

  When she emerged from the bathroom in her robe, she saw that Jack was clad in jeans and a pale yellow T-shirt. He was sitting at the table, drinking his coffee and reading the complimentary newspaper. He looked up as she entered the bedroom and smiled.

&nb
sp; "Shall I pour you some coffee, Mairie?"

  "Thanks." Her head still throbbed and she knew she'd have to get down to the hotel gift shop to purchase something for the pain. She just couldn't drink that Alka Seltzer again.

  "Did you pay for this?" she asked, seeing his breakfast was half eaten.

  Again he smiled as he placed her filled cup in front of the seat opposite him. "I even tipped the waiter. Just as you did yesterday."

  She sat down and tightened her robe around her. "Good. I'm glad you're learning the customs here."

  He set the folded paper down beside his place setting then leaned back. "You're a good teacher." He seemed to look even deeper into her eyes as he raised his coffee cup to his lips.

  Yeah, that's a good one, she thought. Some education. Hard Liquor 101.

  She tried to smile, but even that hurt. "Jack, I'm sorry if I did anything… well, anything silly last night. It's been some time since I've been drinking."

  "Stop apologizing. You were… delightful."

  Somehow, the way he said "delightful" made her wonder again if it were possible to perform the jeans trick without her knowing. No, Jack wouldn't take advantage of her. She knew that.

  "Mairie, when you feel better, I would like you to explain this war I've been reading about." Offering his plate, he changed the subject and asked, "You don't want anything to eat?"

  In her best etiquette she attempted not to recoil. "Oh, please—no, thank you, but you go right ahead." She didn't want to see or think of anything fried for a very long time. "What war?" she asked, as she sipped the restorative black liquid.

  "All this reporting of murders across the country. I am reading stories and statistics. I was wondering if that's why you're getting us identification papers. Is the country at war again? Is that why the young boy had a gun yesterday?"

  She could only stare at him. It would seem that way to someone from his time. "It's an undeclared war, Jack," she murmured, holding the cup with both hands.

  "That must be why I haven't seen anyone in uniform," he stated, while absentmindedly rolling the newspaper into a tube.