Time Was

by Nora Roberts

  “Did you ever figure it out?”

  “Sometimes I did, sometimes I didn’t.”

  It had been simpler, somehow, when his main concerns had been world peace and social reform. Now, God help him, he was nearing middle age—that area that had always seemed so gray and distant. It reminded him that he had once been a young man, much younger than the one facing him now, with his head in the clouds and his mind on a woman. The times they are a-changing, he thought wryly, and swirled his brandy.

  “Are you in love with Libby?”

  “I was just asking myself that same question.”

  William sipped his brandy. He preferred the traces of doubt and frustration he heard to a glib response. He’d always been glib. No wonder Caroline’s father had detested him. “Come up with an answer?”

  “Not a comfortable one.”

  Nodding, William lifted his glass. “Before I met Caro, I was planning to join the Peace Corps or a Tibetan monastery. She was fresh out of high school. Her father wanted to shoot me.”

  Cal grinned. He was beginning to enjoy the brandy. “I had a minute to be grateful you didn’t have a weapon this afternoon.”

  “Being a pacifist by nature, I only gave it a passing thought,” William assured him. “Caro’s father thrived on the idea. I can’t wait to tell him I got her pregnant again.” Relaxed now, he savored the idea.

  “Libby’s hoping for a brother.”

  “Did she say that?” Now he grinned, lingering over the idea of a son. “She was my first. Every child’s a miracle, but the first . . . I guess you never get over it.”

  “She is a miracle. She changed my life.”

  William’s look sharpened. Hornblower might not realize he was in love, he thought, but there was little doubt about it. “Caro likes you,” he commented. “She has a way of seeing into the heart of people. I only want to say that Libby isn’t as sturdy as she seems. Be careful with her.”

  He rose then, afraid he might start to pontificate. “Get some sleep,” he advised. “Caro’s bound to be up at dawn fixing whole-wheat pancakes or yogurt-and-kiwi surprise.” He winced a little. He was a man who would always yearn in his heart for bacon and eggs. “You won points by the way you dug into that tofu amandine casserole.”

  “It was great.”

  “No wonder she likes you.” He paused at the foot of the steps. “You know, I have a sweater just like that.”

  “Really?” Cal couldn’t suppress the grin. “Small world.”

  Chapter 10

  “I knew you’d be up early.” Libby slipped out the back door to join her mother.

  “Not so early.” Caroline sighed, annoyed with herself for missing the sunrise. “I’ve found myself getting a slower start the last couple of months.”

  “Morning sickness?”

  “No.” Smiling, Caroline hooked an arm around Libby’s waist. “It seems all three of my children decided to spare me that. Did I ever tell you I appreciated it?”

  “No.”

  “Well, I do.” She gave Libby’s cheek a quick kiss and noted the faint shadows under her eyes. Biding her time, she nodded toward the trees. “Like to walk?”

  “Yes, I would.”

  They started off at a meandering pace, the bells Caroline wore at her wrists and ears jingling cheerfully. So much was the same, Libby thought. The trees, the sky, the quiet cabin behind them. And so much had changed. She leaned her head against her mother’s shoulder for a moment.

  “Do you remember when we used to walk like this, you and Sunny and I?”

  “I remember walking with you.” Caroline laughed as the branches arched overhead in a cool, green tunnel. “Sunny never walked anywhere. The moment she could stand she was off at a dash. You and I would poke along, just as we’re doing now.”

  And what would this child be like? Caroline wondered, feeling a fresh thrill of anticipation.

  “Then we’d pick some flowers or berries so that Dad would think we’d been doing something productive.”

  “It seems both our men are sleeping in today.” When Libby didn’t respond, Caroline waited until the silence between them was comfortable again. The forest was alive with sounds, the rustling of small game in the brush, the call of birds in flight. “I like your friend, Libby.”

  “I’m glad you do. I wanted you to.” She bent to pick up a twig, then broke small pieces off as she walked. It was a nervous gesture Caroline knew very well. Sunny would let any and all feeling burst straight out, but Libby, her quiet, sensible Libby, would hold them in.

  “It’s more important that you do.”

  “I do, very much.” Suddenly aware of what she was doing, Libby tossed the rest of the twig aside. “He’s kind and funny and strong. This time I’ve had here with him, it’s been wonderful for me. I never really thought I’d find someone who would make me feel the way Caleb makes me feel.”

  “But you don’t smile when you say that.” Caroline reached up to touch her daughter’s face. “Why?”

  “This . . . time we have . . . it’s only temporary.”

  “I don’t understand. Why temporary? If you’re in love with him—”

  “I am,” Libby murmured. “Very much in love with him.”

  “Then?”

  Libby drew a long breath. It was impossible to explain, she thought. “He has to go back, to his family.”

  “To Philadelphia?” Caroline prompted her, at a loss.

  “Yes . . .” There was a smile now, faint and wistful. “To Philadelphia.”

  “I don’t see why that should make a difference,” she began. Then stopped and put a hand on Libby’s arm. “Oh, baby, is he married?”

  “No.” She might have laughed then, but she noted the deep and genuine concern in her mother’s eyes. “No, it’s nothing like that. Caleb could never be dishonest. It’s very hard to explain, but I can tell you that right from the start we both knew that Cal would have to go back where he belonged, and I . . . I would have to stay.”

  “A few thousand miles shouldn’t matter if two people want to be together.”

  “Sometimes distance is, well, longer than it looks. Don’t worry.” Leaning over, she kissed Caroline’s cheek. “I can honestly say that I wouldn’t trade the time I’ve had with Cal for anything. There was a poster in the cabin when I was little. Do you remember? It said something about . . . if you had something, let it go. If it didn’t come back to you, it was never yours.”

  “I never liked that poster,” Caroline muttered.

  This time Libby did laugh. “Let’s pick some flowers.”

  ***

  Libby watched them go a few hours later, her father behind the wheel of the rumbling pickup, her mother’s earrings dancing as she leaned out of the window to wave until she was out of sight.

  “I like your parents.”

  Libby turned to Cal, linking her hands around his neck. “They liked you, too.”

  He leaned down for a brief kiss. “Your mother, maybe.”

  “My father, too.”

  “If I had a year or two to win him over he might almost like me.”

  “He wasn’t scowling at you today.”

  “No.” He rubbed his cheek against hers as he considered. “It was down to a sneer. What are you going to tell them?”

  “About what?”

  “About why I’m not here, with you?”

  “I’ll tell them that you went home.” Because she made the effort, her answer sounded casual and easy. So easy that he nearly swore.

  “Just like that?”

  Her voice was a little brittle now, she knew, with a tone that could easily be taken as callous. “They won’t pry if I don’t want them to. It will be simpler for everyone if I tell them the truth.”

  “Which is?”<
br />
  Was he determined to make it difficult? She moved her shoulders restlessly. “Things didn’t work out, and you went on with your life. I went on with mine.”

  “Yeah, I guess that’s best. No mess, no regrets.”

  Irritable, she thrust her fists in her pockets. “You have a better idea?”

  “No. Yours is just dandy.” He pulled away, annoyed with himself, annoyed with her. “I’ve got to get to the ship.”

  “I know. I thought I’d run into town and pick up the camera and some other things. If I get back early enough I’ll ride out, check on your progress.”

  “Fine.” He was damned if it was going to be so easy for her when he was being torn in two. Before he could regret it, he yanked her against him and crushed his mouth down on hers.

  Hot, edgy, tasting of anger and frustration, the kiss spun out. Libby hung on, to maintain her physical, as well as her emotional, balance. She couldn’t, wouldn’t, give him what he seemed to need. Total capitulation. He’d never asked for that before, nor had she known she would so firmly withhold it. Trapped, she couldn’t soothe, couldn’t demand, as he devoured.

  In one long, possessive stroke, his hands ran up her body, then down again with no lessening of force. She might have protested. There was something here that frightened her, that left her weak—not meltingly, but with an open-ended vulnerability that made her struggle to find her feet again. There was no gentleness here, nor was there the sense of urgent desire he had once shown her. Instead, the kiss was like a punishment, and a brutally effective one.

  “Caleb—” She began, hitching in a shallow breath, when he released her.

  “That should give you something to think about,” he said, then turned abruptly to stalk away.

  Stunned, she stared after him. One unsteady hand reached up to press against lips still tender from his assault. When her breathing steadied, her temper took hold. She’d think about it, all right. She stormed inside, slamming the door behind her. Moments later she stormed out again to climb into the Land Rover.

  ***

  It was all going perfectly. And he was mad as hell. Technically he could take off within twenty-four hours. The major repairs were done, the calculations as finely tuned as he and the computer could make them in the time allotted. His ship was ready. He wasn’t. That was what it came down to.

  She was certainly ready to see him off, Cal thought as he fused a tear in the inner shell with his spot laser. Damned anxious, if it came to that. She was probably in town right now buying a camera so that she could take a few souvenir pictures before she waved goodbye. He shut off the laser and checked the seam.

  Why did she have to be so practical about it?

  Because she was practical, he reminded himself as he yanked off his protective goggles. That was one of the things he most admired about her. She was practical, warm, intelligent, shy. He could still see the way her eyes had looked the first time he’d told her he wanted her. They’d gone from big and tawny to big and confused.

  And when he’d touched her. She’d gotten hot and trembly. She was soft, so incredibly soft. Cursing himself, he stowed the laser in the tool compartment, then tossed the goggles in beside them before he slammed the door. He couldn’t imagine a man in the universe being able to resist those eyes, or that skin, or that wide, sexy mouth.

  That was part of the problem, he admitted as he prowled the ship. Men wouldn’t. Maybe she hadn’t paid attention before. Maybe she’d been too wrapped up in her books and her work and her theories on the societal tendencies of man as a species. One day she was going to slip those glasses off her nose and look around—and realize that there were men, flesh-and-blood men, looking back at her. Men who could make promises, he thought in disgust. Even if they didn’t mean to keep them.

  Perhaps she hadn’t realized how much passion, how much heat, how much power, she held. But he’d opened those doors for her. Opened, hell—he’d smashed them. Once he was gone, other men would tend the fire he’d lit.

  The thought made him insane. Cal admitted it as he dragged his hands through his hair. Stark, raving crazy. He belonged in one of those padded cells Libby had spoken of. He couldn’t stand it—the thought of someone else touching her, kissing her. Undressing her.

  With an oath, he wheeled into his cabin and began to put it in order. That is, he tossed things around.

  He was being selfish and unfair. And he didn’t care. It was true that he would have to accept the fact that Libby would go on with her life, and that her life would include a lover—or lovers, he thought, grinding his teeth. A husband, perhaps, and children. He had to accept that. But he was damned if he had to like it.

  After kicking a shoe into a corner, he dug his hands into his pockets and stared at the picture of his family. His parents, he mused, going over each feature of their faces as he had never bothered to before. It had been three . . . no, four months since he’d seen them. If you didn’t count the centuries.

  They were attractive, strong-looking people, despite his father’s slightly hangdog expression. They had always seemed so content to him, so sure of their lives and what they wanted. He liked to picture them at home, with his mother laboring over some thick technical book and his father whistling between his teeth as he played with his flowers.

  He had his mother’s nose. Intrigued, Cal leaned down to peer closer. Strange, he’d never noticed that before. Apparently she’d been satisfied with the one she’d been born with and had passed it on to him.

  And to Jacob, he realized as he studied his brother’s image. But to Jacob she’d passed along brilliance, as well. Brilliance wasn’t always a gift, Caleb thought with a grin. It seemed to make Jacob hotheaded, questioning and impatient. He remembered his mother saying that J.T., as his family called him, was more fond of arguing than breathing.

  Cal decided he’d probably inherited his father’s more even temperament. Except he didn’t feel very even-tempered at the moment.

  With a sigh, he sat on the bed. “You’d like her,” he murmured to the images. “I wish you could meet her.” That was a first, he thought. He’d never had the urge to bring any of his companions home for family approval. It was probably the result of spending the day with Libby’s parents.

  He was stalling. Rubbing his hands over his face, Cal admitted he was wasting his time with busywork and self-indulgent analysis. He should already be gone. But he’d promised himself another day. There was Libby’s time capsule to do . . . that is, if she was still speaking to him.

  She was bound to be angry about the little number he’d pulled on her before he’d left that morning. That was fine, he decided as he stretched out. He’d rather have her angry than smilingly urging him on his way. Lazily he checked his watch. She should be back in a couple hours.

  Right now he was going to have a nap to make up for the long, frustrating and sleepless night he’d spent on her couch. Switching on the sleep tape beside the bed, he closed his eyes and tuned out.

  ***

  Idiot, Libby thought, gripping the wheel tightly as she maneuvered the Land Rover along the winding switchback toward home. Conceited idiot, she clarified. He’d better have an explanation when she saw him again. No matter how she racked her brain, she could come up with no reason why he had kissed her in that furious, mean-spirited way.

  Something to think about.

  Well, she had thought about it, Libby reminded herself while she navigated the narrowing dirt road. It still made her furious. And it still didn’t make any sense. Then again, she had a twice-married neighbor in Portland who claimed men never made sense.

  They always had to her—as a species, anyway, Libby thought grimly. And on paper. Now, for the first time, she was involved in a one-on-one with a flesh-and-blood member of the male genus, and she was baffled.

  Libby bumped over rocks as she tried once again to so
lve the mystery of Caleb Hornblower.

  Perhaps it had had something to do with the visit by her parents. But then, he’d been moody the morning before they had arrived. Moody, but not angry, she remembered, and they had made slow, quiet love by the stream during the afternoon. He’d seemed cheerful enough at dinner, perhaps a little withdrawn, but that was only natural. It must be very difficult for him to be around people when he had to concentrate on not saying anything that might give him away.

  She felt a tug of sympathy and stubbornly ignored it.

  That was no reason for him to take his frustration out on her. Wasn’t she trying to help him? It was killing her inside, but she was doing everything in her power to see that he got back to where he wanted to be.

  She had her own life, as well. That fact soothed only a little as she barreled up a slope. She should be working on her dissertation and making the preliminary plans for her next field study. There was an offer of a lecture tour she had yet to fully consider. Instead, she was running errands—buying cameras and oatmeal cookies. For the last time, she decided huffily, but then she realized that it would indeed be the last time.

  She stopped the Land Rover when the trail narrowed to a footpath. She hadn’t really meant to come out to Caleb. During the entire trip she’d told herself she would go back to the cabin and get to work. Yet here she was, letting herself be pulled back. At least there was something she could do for herself.

  On impulse, she grabbed the new Polaroid from the shopping bag. After unboxing it, she skimmed over the directions, then loaded it with the first of the packs of film she’d bought. As an afterthought, she grabbed the bag of chunky oatmeal cookies.

  From the top of the slope she studied the ship. It lay huge and silent on the rocks and the downed trees, like some strange sleeping animal. Deliberately she blocked out thoughts of the man inside and concentrated on the ship itself.

  The sixteen-wheeler of the future, she decided, carefully framing it. The Greyhound bus or power van. All aboard for Mars, Mercury and Venus. Express trips to Pluto and Orion available. With what was more a sigh than a snicker, she took two pictures. Sitting on the edge of the slope, she watched them develop. Fifty years ago, she mused, the idea of instant pictures had been science fiction. She glanced back at the ship. Man worked fast. Very fast.