Just in Time: Portals of Time (4 page)

She touched her lips. “I wonder what it feels like.”

Alisha wrinkled her nose. “Messy. Who wants to exchange saliva?” Tossing the book down on the bed, she stood and picked up as many of the ones with hard covers as she could balance on her open palm and started lifting them. “We’re going to have to find out how they keep themselves fit here. There’s no exertrac or jutzi classes.”

“Maybe they have something like them.”

“They have some of the elements, like yoga, meditation, kickboxing and stepping, but nothing that integrates them all.”

A smile bloomed inside Celeste as she stood and crossed to the glass aperture. A real, cool breeze wafted inside and she closed her eyes to savor it. She knew, as long as she lived, she would never get used to daylight, real air and foliage. And the sun was almost incomprehensible. They’d never seen it other than on the chips.

“When are we going to get to go out of inside like Dorian has?” They’d walked to this dwelling, but none of them had noticed their surroundings on the quick trip because they were so diminished by the jump.

“Today, when Jess and Dorian come back. But the environment isn’t clean, and germs can hurt us because we have no immunity. So we have to be careful.”

“We’ve taken the immunity injections.” And Alisha had had the Institute of Medicine develop some immunity tablets for them to ingest while they were here.

Celeste sighed. “I can’t believe the vibrant colors out there.”

“I feel that way, too.” Alisha’s tone had softened, because in the future, looking out of inside from the Domes revealed a big gray curtain, which occasionally exploded into dust and wind storms. There was no day or night, no seasons, like summer.

“We can go for a walking out there, or run like we do on the exertrac. In the
air
, Lisha.”

“It
would be
enjoyable. We’ll try it when Dorian returns.”

“I hope everything goes well for her.”

No answer.

“Alisha, when do we put my part in place?” Though they hadn’t told Jess Cromwell, their mission was two-fold. Celeste had a task, too.

“I’ve got the computeller searching for a time and event when we can introduce you to Dr. Alex Lansing’s life. But we both need to remain in New York to help Dorian. When she accomplishes her mission, we’ll go to Virginia together and take care of your task.”

“I hope it happens soon.”

Just then the door to the out of inside opened and in stepped Dorian and Jess. It was odd seeing her in the dress of 2014, even though Celeste didn’t like the severe outfit in dark colors Dorian wore now. Celeste glanced down at her own comfortable grey tunic and form-fitting pants. She was going to get some of this century’s apparel soon but wanted hers in colors.

“How did it go?” Alisha asked.

“All right,” Jess said. “But my wife’s mad as hell at me.”

Dorian frowned. “Maybe we’re right to separate emotion from joining.”

“Why did you?” he asked.

Celeste’s heart hurt at the thought of it. “We didn’t do it on purpose. Relationships evolved that way. When having younglings became problematic, sexual encounters became emotionless.”

Jess’s brow furrowed. “It was just the opposite with me and Helen. When we found out we couldn’t have kids, we became even closer.” He hesitated. “Why did having children become a problem in your time?”

Alisha shot her and Dorian a warning look. Celeste understood her caution not to reveal too much. “Low sperm motility and diminishing egg viability.” She didn’t tell Jess why this happened nor how it was related to Celeste’s task.

“Helen has endometriosis. She’s had several surgeries, but nothing helped.”

Celeste clasped his arm and was bombarded by his sadness over his barrenness. In her time, people were accustomed to the notion. “You’ll have a child, Jess. The chips are correct about that.”

“It would be a dream come true. More than succeeding with my research.”

“What’s next?” Alisha asked, changing the subject.

“Dorian’s coming to live at my house, as we planned. Helen agrees. We came back here to get her things.”

From the unit with drawers—called a dresser for some reason—Dorian picked up a carrying case they’d also purchased yesterday. “My belongings are in here.”

Jess shook his head. “She’ll wonder why you have so little.”

“Women of today need more than a change of clothing and some personal-hygiene equipment?”

He chuckled. “Don’t look at me. I always thought the same thing.”

“Why shouldn’t we look at you?” Celeste asked, puzzled.

“Nord, you’re hopeless.” Already Alisha was running out of patience with her. Though Alisha hadn’t voiced any concerns, Celeste knew her friend still had serious doubts about Celeste accomplishing her task. Which was why Celeste couldn’t go off on her own.

Dorian sighed. “I’m to leave you.”

“We’ll miss you.” Contrary to male-female contact, women shared emotions with each other, and Celeste meant what she said.

“You’ll be visiting me soon. As my siblings.” Dorian frowned.

“Why the grim expression?” Alisha asked.

“Jess’s sibling doesn’t believe my story. And he doesn’t like me.”

“He’s naturally suspicious.” Jess wasn’t worried, Celeste could tell. “He’ll come around.”

Alisha eyed the computeller. “Let’s hope so.”

Dorian shifted on her feet.

“It’s all right to be apprehensive, Dorian.” Celeste took her hand. “And a bit fearful. It will keep you alert.”

“I know. This is good-bye.” She hugged Celeste. “I will see you soon, Celi.” Crossing to Alisha, Dorian shook her hand. “You, too.”

When they left, Alisha approached the computeller. “Search database for Lucas Cromwell.”

“Please clarify. Lucas Jr. or Sr.?”

“Junior.”

“Dates are required.”

“All data available is requested.”

The computeller began to hum.

“We need to know more about him,” she explained to Celeste.

“I agree.”

“I hope he doesn’t blow Dorian’s cover.”

Celeste sank onto the bed. “I have no idea what that means.”

Alisha crossed to the stack of books in the corner and retrieved one. “Here, decode this. It will help you understand their slang.” She pointed to the video box. “And turn that thing off. It’s counterproductive to our tasks. Knowing you, it’ll just stir you up.”

Celeste picked up the remote device. But before she pressed Off, she saw the man and woman in the picture lying close to each other on a bed. They looked happy. Comfortable. Satisfied.

The man ran his hand down the female’s hair. The gesture was tender and made Celeste touch her own short locks. Yearning did indeed stir inside her.

“Celeste?”

She punched Off and took the book. But as she opened it, she couldn’t get the couple on the video box out of her mind.

LUKE CALLED UP
the police department’s search engine and typed in
Dorian Masters
. While the computer did its thing, he accessed his personal-data folders and started one on her. Something wasn’t right with his brother’s new bodyguard. He began to type in what he did know. She was born in Virginia.
Which is outside of Washington
. Jesus.

Description: five nine or ten. Muscular, fit, well built. Dark hair, thick, no waves. Grass-green eyes without a speck of another color. Strong features.

Despite her good looks, she’d go toe to toe with most men, which would be good for his brother.

Speech patterns: crazy! Sometimes they were normal, most times not anywhere close. Why? He didn’t buy the
grew up in South America
bullshit.

Miscellaneous: seems unfamiliar with common things. She barely touched her supper and winced when she tasted Helen’s spaghetti sauce, which nobody on earth could resist. She did manage to down some plain pasta but picked up and examined a piece of lettuce with her fingers as if it were gold. She coughed when she drank coffee. Refused wine or beer.

Outlook: wary. She studied everybody and everything. The tow-headed neighborhood kid who came to the screen door yesterday seemed to fascinate her. She couldn’t take her eyes off him. And, when the dog at the door barked, she’d gone totally white as if he was a grizzly instead of a small pug.

Luke leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes, mentally reviewing his contact with her. He knew in his gut Jess wasn’t telling him everything.

When he looked at the computer again, he saw that the search engine had stopped. Wheeling in closer to the desk, he read the entries. Only three. Most people, even if they hadn’t done anything to bring them fame, had several hits—name in the paper for winning a golf tournament, traffic tickets, etcetera. Hers included an item on her family, college and one brief mention of winning a marathon.

He clicked into the first site. Frowned. The story was on the death of her father. He read the entry. Most of it jived with what she’d said. She was born in Alexandria, went to live outside of Argentina with her parents and two siblings, Alisha and Celeste. Nothing about her activities. He checked the second. Schooled at Columbia University. When he got into their database, her name was listed. The marathon was in some obscure place he’d never heard of.

Hmm. He typed in Masterminds, the security firm she’d said she owned. Nice, slick website, advertising their services. No other personnel listed. A contact email was given but no phone number. Under a dummy address he’d set up for these purposes, he emailed the company with the ruse of needing protective services.

Then he clicked into the motor-vehicles database. Dorian Masters had a driver’s license. He tried social security next. Yes, again.

But no matter how many federal databases he tapped, he couldn’t find a street address where she had lived or really anything else concrete on her.

“So,” he said into the empty office, “Ms. Dorian Masters, who the hell are you?”

DRINK IN HAND
, Jess stared out the window of his den and sighed heavily. What a nightmare. He was still reeling from three women materializing in his office two days ago, and from being convinced that they were from the future. He’d always believed that time was fluid, and someday, someone would invent a way to navigate it. He just didn’t think he would be involved in proving the theory. Nor had he suspected the past could be changed. He hoped to God they were right about that crucial detail. If they were wrong, he had only a little time left to live. He’d kept the notion at bay, but now, in the darkened den, the idea chilled him so much he shivered. He and Luke used to play the game, “If you were going to die tomorrow, what would you do today?”

How did Jess
really
want to spend his few remaining weeks if the women weren’t successful in stopping his accident? He certainly wanted to be home more.

Even if Helen was mad as hell at him.

She’d blown up after everyone had left…

“How could you keep this from me?”

“As I said, I thought it was for the best.”

“I
thought we were partners, shared everything.”

“We do.”

Just an arch of an auburn brow.

“I’m sorry. I was wrong.”

“That’s not enough.”

“What will be?”

“I don’t know, Jess. How do you win back someone’s trust?”

That sobered him and kept him from falling asleep long after she did. Because she was pissed, yeah, but because he was still keeping things from her. And from Luke, whom he’d always told everything. But how could he burden the people he loved most in the world with the knowledge he was supposed to die?

“What are you doing down here?” Helen’s voice came from behind him. He turned and could barely make out her silhouette in the darkness.

“I can’t sleep.”

“Because you’re worried about the threats?” Now her voice was raw.

“Partly.”

He heard the door close and the lock click. She came toward him. He could see her better now. She wore a pink slip of a thing, the kind she loved to sleep in. Suddenly, he remembered that she would marry somebody else after he died, and the fact drove his blood pressure up. Would that man take the gown off her? Would that man…?

“Why else are you here?”

Swallowing back the bile that rose in his throat at the untenable thought of another man touching his wife, he managed to say, “Our fight. And the fact that you don’t trust me now. Shouldn’t really.”

She shook her head, sending skeins of hair everywhere. “You’re always such a puppy when we fight.”

“I hate it.”

“I know. But things have to be said, Jess.”

He sipped his drink and leaned against the window jamb. “Still…I’m a wreck.”

After a slight hesitation, she stepped even closer until she was standing in front of him. “I know something that will help.” Taking the glass from his hand and setting it on the table, she looped her arms around his neck and pressed her body to him.

“You’re mad,” he said, already nuzzling her.

“So?” She kissed him long and thoroughly.

He got hard in seconds. Kissed her back, more passionately than maybe ever before. “I want you now,” was all he could say as he slipped the straps off her shoulders.

“Yes.”

They undressed each other and made it to the couch, him on top.

Urgently, she grasped his nape. “Make it good, Jess.”

As he drew her arms up, he remembered the shining face of a baby girl. Holy shit! Was this when conception was going to happen?

He stopped thinking when Helen reached between them and grasped his penis, lifted her hips and took him inside her.

LUKE WATCHED THE
statuesque woman seated across from him. Given what he’d found out yesterday, he was more suspicious than ever. She looked normal enough today in the same dark suit, but this time the jacket was spruced up with a more feminine, pink blouse. He said to her, “I need information on the emails and on anything else you both think is important.”

Dorian handed him papers. Her nails were clipped and she wore no jewelry, not even a watch. “Here they are.”