by Jill Cooper
I grab my bucket and put the booties back on my shoes so I can walk through the immaculate hallways toward the grand staircase. The top half of the walls are yellow, with a white wainscoting to waist level. The chandeliers throw off a prism of colors on the framed pictures on the walls and on the hardwood floors.
Downstairs there’s natural light from the many windows, and I put my supplies away in the hall closet. Noises of lunch being prepared brings me to the kitchen where the two chefs are busy at work. The tall African American woman turns her nose to me, the movement almost imperceptible. “She wants to see you. She’s waiting for you in her personal study.”
This could be my walking papers.
At the French doors leading into the study, I pause. Wiping sweat off my forehead, I fidget with my low bun to make sure it’s as put-together as possible. My hair is so short, locks around my face and eyes hang free.
“Come inside,” a familiar voice rings out.
Moment of truth, I step forward onto the soft blue area rug I take in another yellow room with white wainscoting. This time, there’s a fireplace and several blue sofas sit in the center of the room. A bay window overlooking a garden finishes off the room. Outside, a patio with yellow umbrellas and wicker furniture.
“You’ve never been this timid before.” Delilah Chase sits in a yellow chair while sipping a delicate cup of tea. Her eyes twinkle at me. “Come sit, Ms. Crane. Or I’ll have to come fetch you myself.”
“Delilah,” I gasp in surprise.
Her eyes widen slightly as if I’ve done something wrong and I probably have. “Tea, Lara? Since we’re on a first name basis, it seems.”
“I’m sorry. It just came out.” I perch on the edge of the sofa and take the cup of tea when she offers it to me. I blow on it before taking a sip.
“It’s all right. Long time coming.” Delilah folds her hands on her lap. “Stressful times. What happened to your neck? You all right?”
“I’m fine. Never better.” I slide the teacup and its saucer onto the coffee table in front of me.
Delilah watches me intently, studying me. Maybe she notices there’s something different about me. I hope that’s not true. Her mouth parts as if she’s going to say something, but when she doesn’t, I rush on.
“If this is about my employment…I understand. You can just tell me.”
“Pardon me?” Delilah asks, arching an eyebrow.
“I’ve been arrested, I’m going on trial. If you don’t want me in your home, I completely—.”
“That’s not it at all. Lara,” Delilah sighs with exasperation, “you were in pain what with losing your father. I know how hard things are for you, but you would never have shot Patricia. Not in this lifetime.”
I smile at her word choice.
“I simply asked you in here like I do every Tuesday. So, we can catch up. Rick is still going to classes, I hope?”
I nod, confirming he is.
Delilah smiles, delighted. “Excellent! I’m sure this will just be a blip in both your lives. You’re both smart, and go-getters. I see so much in your future, just as I see in his.”
Her words are so kind, the kindest I’ve heard since entering this timeline. I can’t help the overwhelming feelings mounting in my chest. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Nothing is required other than to live your life. Fight these charges and accusations with all your might, dear. They won’t color my perception of you. Which may be exactly what the James’s want.”
“You don’t trust them?”
“Heavens no.” Delilah laughs. “Once Patricia went into politics, which was after your dear mother’s death…” She sips her tea again. “Let’s just say, she wasn’t the woman I once knew. And her son…well, the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. Be careful with that one.”
I pause, my fingers tense on my lap as they dig into my knee. She’s not telling me anything I don’t know and my heart sickens with grief.
“Enough about so much unpleasantness. A blip in your life, like I said. Your wedding is coming up soon, and I want to help with a…contribution.” Delilah opens the purse set on the end table next to her. She stretches over to hand me a check.
“You really don’t need to…” I unfold the check and gasp in surprise at all the zeros I see. “This is too much. I can’t accept this.”
She holds up her hand when I try to give it back. “It’s a gift. For your wedding. And a bonus for your hard work these last few years. I should’ve given it to you sooner, but I wasn’t thinking…caught up with work. I owe you, let’s put it that way.”
“But…Delilah…”
“No, buts. You need it more than I do. Look at this place.” Delilah gazes around, giving a shrug. “I won’t miss the money, so you keep it.”
“What if the courts think I’m running off?”
Delilah waves off my complaint. “Then deposit it later. Give it to Rick.” She sips her tea again.
“Thank you.” I’m reluctant to accept it, but what else can I do? I don’t want to anger her so I fold the check and slip it in my pocket. An instant later, I’m hit with pain as a memory comes at me.
It’s night and I’m crouched behind a dumpster. It’s raining and I’m bundled up in my rain jacket. I shiver in the cold. Two women step out of the back door of the Rewind Agency. They’re under an umbrella.
“You make this problem go away.” The voice is unmistakable. It’s Patricia James.
“This problem is yours in the making. If you hadn’t killed the girl’s father…” My stomach sinks and rage bubbles up as I realize it’s Delilah Chase. She is working with Patricia? She knows everything Patricia has done to me and my family?
“You let her get too close. You employ her. Get her to leave me and Rewind alone. Or I’ll make sure I’m not the only one who goes down. You’re in it up to your neck, just as I am. Maybe more now that you’re CEO.” Patricia laughs as she starts away.
Delilah doesn’t move away and I slink backward to hid behind the steel dumpster. Delilah sighs and I feel the rush of anger coming off of her. “Oh, I’ll take care of it all right, senator. I’ll take care of her.”
The memory rushes from me. Slowly, the sight of Delilah’s study comes back into view. She wears a worried expression as she pats my hand. “Dear, you’re flushed. What’s wrong?”
I struggle to take a calm, even breath. “I’m fine, just…I’m feeling a little stressed.”
“Well, I’m sure that’s perfectly normal, given the circumstances.”
“Given the circumstances,” I echo and rise to my feet, “I should be going. We have an appointment today with my attorney.”
“Of course. I hope things go your way.” Delilah smiles.
I return it and head from the study. I glance back at her one last time before leaving. Seems Patricia James isn’t the only one with secrets. If I’m going to figure out what is going on, I’m going to have to watch my back.
From one of my oldest friends.
Chapter Fifteen: Lara Crane
We sit on either side of Jax as we wait in one of their interrogation rooms for the police to question us. I’ve been to this party way more times than I’m comfortable with, but I stay calm and center myself as the minutes tick by.
“Be calm and answer their questions and this will go in your favor.”
I wish someone would tell that to the nerves fluttering in my belly. I can barely sit still, my leg bouncing up and down, and I seem unable to stop it. Jax lays a hand on my shoulder and gives me a compassionate smile. “Relax, it’ll be all right.”
When the door opens and the police detective walks into the room, I attempt to stand, but Jax keeps light pressure on my shoulder to tell me to stay put.
“Ms. Crane, Mr. Miller.” He gives Jax the once over. “Mr. Montgomery. Sorry if I kept you waiting.”
“We’re used to it,” Rick says.
But Jax counters with a gentle, “It’s no problem. We’re just here to make sure ou
r client is safe. As your photographer saw from her injuries, she was attacked in her home.”
The detective nods, and as he pulls the metal chair along the floor. It squeals loudly, the sound stabbing my ears. “Seen and documented. We’re sorry for what happened to your client. The police working her detail have been removed and we’ve assigned new officers to her case.”
“I hope they’ll be punished. If they looked the other way because of who Patricia James is, they don’t deserve to be part of the police force, detective.”
The detective chuckles. “You do your job and I’ll do mine, all right? Patricia James has made contributions to this police force that goes beyond money. There’s a sense of loyalty there that can’t be easily governed away. But, regardless, we talked to everyone. There will be no further misunderstandings.”
A funny way to talk about my life. Rick sighs and I raise my eyebrows at the detective. “What about Donovan?”
The detective glances at me, as though I shouldn’t have spoken. “He’s been spoken to. He won’t approach you again.”
“Spoken to?” Rick stands up and Jax grabs his wrist tightly, yanking on his arm until he sits back down again.
“He lost his mother. Her company is on the brink of closing permanently. His actions were…rash.”
“Detective,” Jax says, “I want him arrested. He violated the terms of his restraining order again. You can’t turn a blind eye to his behavior. He broke into their home and if Mr. Miller hadn’t been there…”
“The James family guarantees that Donovan won’t be left alone again until this goes to trial. I have their word. Mr. Miller is lucky Mr. James doesn’t want to press charges against him. If I were you, I’d count my blessings and get out of here before I change my mind.” The detective nods at us before he rises up from the table.
I’m dumbfounded, but shouldn’t have been surprised. The James’s have money and power. Here, in this timeline, I’m no one. I don’t even matter.
“I should’ve known,” Rick fumes as he shakes his head. “We’re nobodies. He has money, the name, probably the judge in his pocket. Why’d I bother trusting the system at all, huh?” He storms from his seat and takes long strides toward the door.
“Wait, Rick!” I stand and rush after him.
He holds up his hands. “No offense, Lara, but give me a few minutes, all right? I’m sorry, girl. I thought if we did the right thing, it would work out in our favor. Now, I don’t know what to do.”
His dark eyes fill with sadness as he exits the room and it leaves me feeling despondent and afraid. If Rick is losing hope, what’s left for me?
“He’ll come around,” Jax says and the callousness of his voice jars me. “We have a real chance of beating your murder rap now. Donovan getting off easy with the police without even a slap on the wrist? All of this is going to make you look like the bullied underdog.”
I glare at him. “Well, you don’t have to sound so upbeat about it.”
“It’ll work in our favor. All I care about is getting you off so you can go on and live your life. The idea of that, excites me, as it should you.” His eyes narrow as he lectures me.
“Here I thought the idea of winning was exciting you.”
He grins. “Same thing. Let’s go find Rick and I’ll take you both home. If you’re hungry, we can grab some takeout on the way home.” When he leaves, I’m surprised he doesn’t skip or start to whistle.
“I forgot my sweatshirt. I’ll be right back.” In the interrogation room, I grab my sweatshirt off the back of the chair. I turn back and am startled to see Donovan blocking the doorway, his hands stuffed inside his pockets. He stares me down with evil, angry eyes.
I can’t stand that look in his eye and I gaze away, holding my sweatshirt close. I don’t know what to say but I’m afraid of him. It’s a feeling I hate and it brings tears rushing to the surface, but I hold onto them.
“I’m supposed to stay away from you. Trash like you, and you’re going to be protected by this police force to which my family has given thousands to? Does that seem fair to you?”
There’s so much venom in his voice that I can’t find the will to speak. I miss the kind eyes, the soft voice, the man I love so much.
Donovan starts as someone slaps him on the shoulder. “Mr. James, your car is waiting to take you to Rewind. It’s best if we move now, Sir.”
He glares at me one more time and heads off with his entourage of four men. They keep him safe, as if they are protecting him, but protecting him for what? I haven’t a clue and part of me doesn’t care.
I just want to get out of here. I want to leave.
I crave to be home.
****
Things are quiet that night between me and Rick. We eat our burgers in relative silence and I feed Sparky French fries while I slurp my milkshake. Sitting on the floor of the living room, I pet him and he licks my face. It might be the only good thing about this timeline.
“How can you be so calm about this? What you told me last night, what happened at the police station, and you’re sitting there playing with your dog?” Rick shakes his head and storms off to the kitchen. He’s not wrong to feel the way he does, but I can’t help the tears welling in my eyes as he yells at me.
I follow him into the kitchen and Sparky patters after me, his steps slow. “You’re right, okay?” I wipe my hands off on my jeans and go for his hands but he pulls them back, eyes angry. “But what choice do I have? I can’t fix this, I can’t change this.”
“Maybe you should’ve thought about what would happen if you went after Patricia!” Rick screams, grabbing onto the back of his head and giving me the death stare. He sighs and seems to remember where we are, how thin the walls are. “And you’re just taking this all in your stride…I’m worried about you, Lara. I’m worried about what’s happening to you. The girl I knew—.”
“They took away my mother. My father.”
“But you have me. My family. If you had just leaned on us instead of taking matters into your own hands—.”
“So it’s okay that Patricia killed my mother and then my father?” This timeline might not be mine but I recoil in disgust. “How can you even think that’s okay? And people call me selfish?”
“No one calls you that.”
Maybe not here, but it definitely is something I’ve heard before.
“Look,” Rick dials his anger back, “I knew our future would be complicated. You’ve always been that way but I’ve loved you anyway. We were a team and we’ve always stuck together. With your job, with Delilah and the night school I’m going to, I really thought we could make something of myself.”
He shakes his head. “Nothing’s going to be left when this is through. You made sure of that.”
I hadn’t known he’d been taking night classes too, but I hadn’t thought to ask. Maybe I am selfish but it isn’t like I’m from this timeline. Not that he’d believe me. Still, my anger comes tumbling out. “I didn’t ask for this. I didn’t ask to be stuck here.”
Rick’s eyes narrow and he looks like he’s been slapped. “Stuck here?”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“Yeah, sure. Least I know how you feel, right?” He takes his keys off the kitchen counter and picks his bookbag off the sofa.
“Where are you going? Rick, stay. Let’s talk about this.”
“Class. Seems if I want a better future, I’m going to have to earn it myself with no help from you.” He slams the door on the way out and I regret everything I’ve said, every choice I’ve made. I’m acting like a spoiled brat, a baby, and it’s not Rick’s fault.
It’s Rex. For trapping me in a timeline I can’t jump out of.
But when I glance down at my cupped hand, I see something I don’t expect between my fingers. Time is parting and there’s a small hole that’s void of color, void of space. Just like the hole that opens the bridge.
I focus on it and can’t get it much bigger than a golf ball, but there it is, n
onetheless. If I can work on getting it to open just a little bit further, maybe I can get onto the bridge.
And maybe then I can find a way home.
I concentrate, try to keep it growing bigger, but then it disappears like it was never there at all. Exhausted from trying to open it, I sit down on the floor of the kitchen without meaning to. Sparky whines at me, wags his tail, and sits beside me as though he’s waiting for me to do something. In his mind, it’s probably a treat or a tummy rub. For me, it sets my mind working.
Maybe it’s time to stop trying to fit into this timeline and do what I do best.
Break all the rules.
Chapter Sixteen: Molly Montgomery
I awake groggy and peer around my hospital room through slitted eyes. Except for a needle, I remember very little about what had happened the last time I’d been awake I have flashes of memories. Not mine, not anyone’s in particular—at least not in this timeline—and I’m desperate to find a friend.
I search for her, but no one remembers her name except for me. But she’s here. Right in the back of my own mother’s mind. That’s when her name comes to me.
Lara.
My eyes open all the way and I stare up at the light bulb hanging above my bed. I roll out of the bed onto unsure feet and stumble along the bed, hanging onto the railing as I go.
This timeline has many paths not taken. Choices not walked before. Lara’s dead, Mom has mourned a daughter who had never gotten to grow up. I shouldn’t even exist, so how am I here in the first place?
Something more dangerous and sinister is at work here than a little time travel manipulation. When I try to reach forward and discover what it might be, something blocks my way. It’s like ramming my head against the wall. It’s not the mechanics of time travel that have run amok, but rather a person with a sinister goal.
