Reaching Through Time

by Lurlene McDaniel

  After work she rode with Jerry to his house. Dylan’s car was gone, which made her both sad and glad. Acting nonchalant with him when she knew she was leaving would be difficult.

  She got out of the car. Jerry called, “See you at the recital.”

  “Sure thing.”

  At the Carter house Chowder greeted her from the backyard, where Maura kept him during the day. She brought him inside, fed and watered him, washed the bowls and put them away in the cupboards. She greeted the cats, who acted aloof. They were distancing themselves from her, uncanny in their ability to convey their displeasure. “Don’t be snooty,” she told them, but they turned tail and stalked from the room.

  Maura changed into her jumpsuit, felt the material mold to her skin. She hadn’t put it on in months, and it felt strange. Chowder bounced around her feet. “Cool it,” she told him. He ignored her command.

  She looked around, was satisfied with the way the house looked. No trace of her. The Carters would never know she’d lived there. She sat on the sofa, lamps off, the time-travel device in her hand, waiting for darkness to fall. The recital would be in full swing. She imagined Lucy and Casey twirling on the stage and smiled. As a Sensitive, Maura’s whole life had focused on education, on honing her gift for the greater good of society. It might have been fun to take dance lessons.

  Suddenly she bolted upright. Chowder went tense beside her. Something was wrong in the universe. Her nerve endings tingled and her brain cells snapped. Dylan! Her spirit closed the distance between their houses and connected with him. He was in trouble. He hadn’t gone to the recital. He was at home and in pain. Maybe the cops had traced her to his house. She’d never put security around his house! “Stupid!” she said. Maura had to get to him. She hurriedly snapped the leash onto Chowder, set the alarm system and zipped out the back door. Once outside, she ran.

  She arrived at the house out of breath. Chowder, alert and on edge, panted and strained against his leash. The house’s windows were dark. No … there was a faint flickering light from Dylan’s room. She connected with his mind and was saddened by the blackness of his aura. She thought about banging on his front door but knew he wouldn’t unlock it. She remembered where Jerry hid the extra key and went for it. Inside she let Chowder off his leash, forced the dog to stay put with the power of her thoughts and took the stairs two at a time.

  She opened Dylan’s bedroom door cautiously, eased inside. Dylan was sitting cross-legged on the floor, a candle burning in front of him. An empty wine bottle lay on the floor. Another half-empty bottle stood beside him. He was shirtless, and sweat glistened on his skin. He held a large hunting knife over the candle, its blade glittering in the light. Her heart almost stopped. “What are you doing, Dylan?”

  He glanced up, flashed a half smile. “Maura. What are you doing here?”

  His pupils were dilated. His body swayed to the movement of the flame like some ancient warrior facing a great challenge. “I thought I’d to go to the recital with you,” she said.

  His brow furrowed. “I’m not going.”

  “What did you tell your parents?”

  “That I was working.”

  “Lucy will be mad at you if you miss her big night.”

  “Lucy will get over it.” His words were slurred. He twisted the knife over the flame.

  She fought to stay calm, wrest control from him. “Put that down, Dylan.”

  “Why? See how shiny it is?” He twisted the handle, making the candlelight glimmer on the silver blade.

  Maura inched closer, taking small steps so as not to alarm him. “Knives are dangerous.”

  “I’m counting on that,” he said, and with a single motion he flicked the tip of the blade across the flesh of his inner arm. A fine line of blood oozed from the superficial slice.

  “Dylan, stop!”

  “Why?”

  “I—I care about you. I … don’t want you to be hurt.”

  He looked up, as if seeing Maura for the first time. “Catherine died today. Her heart quit.”

  His words were like stones hitting her. “Oh …”

  “Her mother called me. She was crying, said it was better this way.” He stared at the candle’s flame. “Better to let her body join her spirit.”

  “She was already dead, you know.”

  “My fault.”

  Maura knelt on the floor in front of the candle. “Hurting yourself won’t bring her back.”

  His unfocused eyes rose to meet hers. “It’ll make me feel better.” He picked up the half-empty bottle and took a drink, made a face. “Burns.” He tried to set the bottle upright on the carpet, but it tipped and fell. The red liquid spilled across the beige carpet like blood. “My fault,” he said. “I killed her.”

  Suddenly Chowder went crazy barking at the foot of the stairs. Maura sucked in her breath. The police had found her. She had probably led them here. Once they found the room, they would seize her and wipe Dylan’s mind. The mind wipe would be thorough, perhaps enough to damage him, turn his mind mushy. They would leave no trace of her.

  Maura could wait no longer. She eased into his mind, saw the glass wall of protection guarding his memory and struck it hard. The wall began to crack. She watched the crack widen, fall in jagged shards, scatter across the landscape of his memory. He dropped the knife, grabbed his head. In that instant they both saw clearly what he’d been hiding from everyone, even himself.

  She reached out to steady him as he swayed with pain and self-loathing. His fault.

  His eyes widened, incredulous. “Are you in my head? I can feel you, see you. You’re inside my head!”

  Chowder’s barking went insane. The animal would give her the few precious minutes she needed; Maura was fairly certain the cops from her time had never faced down an angry dog. She released Chowder, gave him a single command. Defend!

  Dylan clamped his hands over his ears, scrambled backward on the carpet, his face contorted with fear. “Who are you?”

  Pinning him with her mind, she said, “I’m the person who’s going to save you.”

  She snatched the time device from her waistband, set the destination and pressed the button.

  10

  She materialized into a stand of trees at night, alone. Lake water lapped at a nearby shoreline. Humid heat immediately soaked her face and trembling hands. She saw the lighted house on the edge of the water in the distance. It matched the image Dylan had given her the Sunday afternoon they’d gone to see Catherine together.

  Maura set out to find Dylan. Music grew louder as she approached the house. Deafening. The front door stood wide open. Couples, clinging to one another or clustered in groups, lined the hallway inside. The main room overflowed with kids, most of them very young and drunk. They shouted above the roar of the music while their bodies writhed to the beat. Cigarette smoke barely masked the smell of beer. Nearby, a girl shrieked when a boy put an ice cube down her back.

  Maura searched the house with a mind probe to locate Dylan. He wasn’t there. She turned to go back outside, ran smack into the chest of a large, well-muscled boy. “Hello,” he said, taking her by the shoulders.

  She pushed him into a wall with the sheer force of her mind. “Have you seen Dylan Sorenson?”

  He banged into the wall, rubbed his left shoulder. “Whoa! What’s up with you? Did you just shove me?”

  She stared him down, determined that he had no knowledge of Dylan’s whereabouts and walked out the front door, gulping in fresh air. She had to find Dylan quickly. The cops were stranded in the future for now, but they wouldn’t stay there for long. Away from the house, Maura saw cars and pickup trucks, more abandoned than parked. She hurried to the field, looked for Dylan’s car, the one that she’d only seen in the vision of the crash. Blue. Yes, it had been blue.

  It was dark among the cars, but she heard raised voices and went toward the sound. She saw an interior light shining from an open car door, and then saw Dylan and Catherine standing beside the door. Her heart did a
stutter step. She’d almost arrived too late.

  Dylan at sixteen looked heavier, certainly more self-assured than the boy she’d met at eighteen. Catherine also looked far different from the wasted girl Maura had seen on the bed in the rehab center. She was tall, with thick dark hair hanging past her shoulders. And she was very pretty.

  “Give me the keys, Dylan.” Catherine sounded exasperated, as if they’d been arguing with one another.

  “Aw, come on, baby. I’m fine.”

  “No. You’re not fine. Let me drive.”

  “Nobody drives my fine machine but me. Them’s the rules.”

  “You drank too much. You’re not thinking straight.”

  Dylan said, “How many fingers am I holding up?” He thought the comment funny and laughed uproariously.

  Catherine stamped her foot. “I want the keys.”

  He held the keys over her head. She jumped for them, but they remained just out of reach.

  Maura had seen the truth inside Dylan’s mind back in his bedroom and knew how the argument had originally ended. Now was the time to intercede. She walked into the scene. “Hi.”

  Dylan and Catherine looked startled. “Private party,” Dylan said, annoyed.

  “Why are you shouting at each other?”

  “Who’re you—the party police?” Dylan demanded. “Get lost.”

  Maura’s heart twisted. Of course, he’d never seen her before. They were strangers in this time stream. “Just passing by, heard the yelling. Just checking it out.”

  “Well, just keep on passing,” he said, with an elaborate bow from the waist.

  Maura glanced sideways at Catherine, who was standing with her hands on her hips looking frustrated. “The keys, Dylan.”

  Laughing, he said, “Catch if you can.” He tossed them high in the air and Maura took a deep breath and did what she’d come to do. She committed a time traveler’s worst crime. She pushed Dylan aside and let Catherine catch the keys. He cursed at Maura, staggered backward, tripped and landed hard on the ground.

  With one motion, she had changed history.

  Dylan had been driving the night of the accident. He’d swerved to miss an imaginary deer and lost control of the car, crashed and burned. And Catherine had died.

  “Ha,” Catherine said triumphantly, gripping the keys tightly. “My keys now.” She ran around to the driver’s side, opened the door, slid in and started the engine before Dylan could get off the ground. He came up shouting at Maura.

  Maura ignored him. “You’re okay to drive, aren’t you?” Maura asked Catherine through the open passenger door.

  “No booze for me. Taking cold medicine. If I touched a single drop, Mom promised to ground me forever.”

  Dylan staggered next to her and Maura grabbed his arm. “You’re not too steady, buddy.”

  He shook his head, tried to remember why he’d been shouting at her, but the beer had fogged his brain. “It’s my car,” he mumbled.

  “Will you help him get in?” Catherine asked.

  “I can get in by myself,” Dylan growled, his angry outburst forgotten. He didn’t resist when Maura pushed him into the passenger’s seat.

  “Thanks for your help,” Catherine said. “I thought he was going to win this fight.”

  “I’m glad he didn’t,” Maura said. She reached across Dylan, grabbed the seat belt and pulled it, locking it into the slot, securing him. As she straightened, she turned her head to look him full in the face.

  Dylan’s eyes focused. His brow furrowed. “Don’t I know you? It seems like I do.”

  “No,” Maura said. “You’ve never met me.”

  She shut the door and Catherine maneuvered carefully out of the space, steering around several parked cars.

  Maura watched until the taillights became red pinpricks in the distance. She slumped against a tree, her legs rubbery, adrenaline gone. Now what? She couldn’t go home. She couldn’t stay here. Once the authorities discovered what she’d done, they’d follow her with a vengeance. But she also knew that Dylan, the boy she had known and loved, was safe and that Catherine was alive.

  Maura realized she had only one way to go. “I’m a Healer,” she told the night sky. This was her life’s purpose, the mission of her DNA. She could be a Healer in any time stream. As long as she held the device, she could keep moving, crossing through time forever, until they caught her or she died. She liked freedom. She had worked, met and cared about people and animals, strangers all. And she had tasted love. She liked the flavor. The chemistry, the roller-coaster emotions, the sheer ecstasy of pure chance had been magical.

  She held up the time-travel device and randomly reset numbers. What did it matter where she landed? She pushed the button and vanished.

  Lurlene McDaniel began writing inspirational novels about teenagers facing life-altering situations when her son was diagnosed with juvenile diabetes. “I saw firsthand how chronic illness affects every aspect of a person’s life,” she has said. “I want kids to know that while people don’t get to choose what life gives to them, they do get to choose how they respond.”

  Lurlene McDaniel’s novels are hard-hitting and realistic, but also leave readers with inspiration and hope. Her books have received acclaim from readers, teachers, parents, and reviewers. Her bestselling novels include Don’t Die, My Love; Till Death Do Us Part; Hit and Run; Telling Christina Goodbye; True Love: Three Novels; and The End of Forever.

  Lurlene McDaniel lives in Chattanooga, Tennessee.