Now and Forever (45 page)

"Here you are," she said, tossing them down on his meticulously clean blotter. "I'm going home for the night."

He glanced at the eight-day clock on his credenza. "It's only four forty-six."

"I have a headache," said Dakota, which wasn't that far from the truth. "I want to go home and take care of it."

Ten minutes alone with Andrew McVie - without Shannon hovering around like a too-protective mother hen - should do it.

 
#

"I thought you'd be more surprised by the radio," Shannon said, vaguely disappointed, as the last strains of
Surfin' USA
by the Beach boys faded away.

"Emilie told me about such things."

Shannon made a face. "And I suppose she taught you the words to
Doo Wah Diddy
in her spare time?"

"In truth, she did. 'Twas part of the plan to save General Washington."

She looked over at him. He wasn't smiling. "Are you pulling my leg?"

"Nay, mistress. My hands are nowhere near you."

"I mean, are you...making sport of me?" A phrase directly out of an old costume drama on cable television.

"I tell the truth." He started to sing the words to the old Sixties' rock song and Shannon slammed on the brakes. All around her on the highway horns blared and tempers flared.

"Sweet Jesus!" Andrew roared. "Is it death you're courting?"

Embarrassed, she signaled then moved over to the slow lane. "Warn me the next time you decide to do something like that." She wondered if her heartbeat would ever return to normal. "Do you have any more surprises up your sleeve?"

He launched into a rousing version of
Jingle Bells
that soon had her laughing out loud.

"You're a man of many talents, Andrew McVie."

"Aye," he said with that grin she was coming to know, "but those talents did naught for the cause. His Excellency was already departed when I reached Long Island."

"His Excellency?" She signaled again to exit the parkway.

"General Washington."

"You called him 'His Excellency'? Good grief, I thought the whole idea of the Revolution was to get rid of royal titles and everything that came with them."

"I can say naught that will explain such a thing to you."

She rolled to a stop at a red light. "I can't believe I'm having this conversation but what happened when you got to Long Island and found Washington had already left?"

"I went to the Grapes and Ale and downed three tankards."

She started to laugh. "Really?"

He nodded. "Aye."

The more things change....
"So what happened with Washington? Did someone really try to kill him?"

"You have little knowledge of history," he observed.

"Guilty. It was never my favorite subject." Although it was beginning to take on dimensions she'd never dreamed. "The people of Crosse Harbor believed me a hero for saving His Excellency's life but 'twas Zane who did the deed."

"Well, so what?" she said, with a snap of her fingers. "Who cares what it says in some stuffy old history book? Nobody pays any attention to them anyway."

"You do not worry about your place in history?"

She laughed as she turned onto the street that led to her house. "My place in history? I won't even be a footnote, Andrew. This world's a much bigger place than the world you left behind. Most of us will live and die and the world won't even know we were here."

A harsh observation, perhaps, but better he knew what he was dealing with.

 
#

For some reason Andrew seemed surprised to find the balloon and gondola still on the lawn in Shannon's backyard.

"Did you think it was going to reinflate and fly away?" she asked, casting him a curious look. "That's where you left it this monring."

"This is not the way it was for Emilie and Zane." He began gathering up the balloon into a manageable parcel. "It vanished when they crashed into the water."

"Obviously it didn't vanish permanently," she said, "or you wouldn't be here."

"There is something different about it," he said, staring down at the billowing crimson fabric. "It seems...paler. Faded."

"Wouldn't you look faded if you'd traveled across two hundred years?"

"'Tis more than that," he said, obviously disturbed. "We were gone but part of the day and the change is noticeable."

She inspected what she could see of the balloon and shrugged. "I don't see any difference."

"Aye," he said. "The difference is there, Shannon, but the meaning is beyond my ken."

Without the balloon he was trapped there forever. Her elation made her feel almost guilty. "Nothing about this entire situation makes any sense. Why should this be any different?"

"Because it is," came a third voice.

They both turned around to find Dakota leaning against the weeping willow tree.

"Don't you ever knock?" Shannon asked in exasperation.

Dakota rapped three times against the trunk of the tree. "So are you guys going to come clean or do I have to get down on my knees and beg?"

Andrew continued to calmly fold the balloon into a neat package as if the end of life as they knew it wasn't rapidly approaching.

Dakota moved closer to Andrew. She was openly staring at him, her psychic antennae all but flapping in the breeze.

"Dakota." Shannon's voice sounded a warning.

"You don't have an aura," Dakota said to Andrew. "It took me a while to figure it out, but that's what bothered me when we first met. It isn't every day you meet someone without an aura."

"I do not know what an aura is, mis--"

"You must excuse Andrew," Shannon said, feeling like a guilty rat for holding out on her closest friend. "He's not from around here."

"I picked that up pretty quickly," Dakota said with a short laugh. She leveled a sharp look at Shannon. "If you tell me he's from France, I'll brain you."

"He's from Scotland," Shannon said, one again realizing just how easy it was to lie.

"I don't believe you," said Dakota. She turned back to Andrew. "Okay, so you don't know about auras. I can handle that. Half the people I work with don't know about auras. But the way you talk, this faded balloon--"

"You see the difference?" Andrew asked. His intensity was almost visible. "You see that the color has faded?"

"Of course I see the difference," Dakota said with an impatient gesture. "How can you
not
see the difference? It was a lot darker this morning."

Andrew looked as if he wanted to sweep Dakota into his arms and kiss her. "It is not a product of my imagination," he said to Shannon.

"I never said it was your imagination." She glanced uncomfortably in Dakota's direction. "The sun was strong today. It faded the fabric. Things like that happen."

Dakota ignored her and focused on Andrew. "Take my hand," she ordered him.

"Don't," Shannon said to Andrew in a clipped tone of voice. "Pay no attention to her."

Dakota held out her hand. The multitude of silver and gold rings on her slender fingers glittered in the sunshine.

"Please, Andrew," Dakota said. "I need to know."

Shannon stepped between the two of them. "There's plenty of room in the garage for the balloon and the gondola," she told Andrew. "Put it wherever you like."

He looked relieved to escape Dakota's intense scrutiny and quickly vanished.

"What on earth is wrong with you?" Shannon snapped as soon as he was out of earshot. "Have you lost what's left of your mind?"

"You're hiding something," Dakota persisted, not in the least bit cowed by Shannon's rising anger. "This is your funky, embarrassing, New Age psychic librarian best friend you're talking to. I can't help you with trust funds or charity galas and now that there's finally something I
can
help you with, what do you do but push me away with both hands. I know he's not from this time. I know--" Dakota drew in a deep, shuddering breath and began to sway on her feet.

Again?
Shannon thought.
How can it be happening again? She didn't even touch him!
She grabbed Dakota by the shoulders and steadied her.

"I need a Diet Coke," Dakota managed.

Shannon started to laugh. "Diet Cokes stave off fainting spells?"

"I didn't faint," Dakota protested, "I swooned. There's a difference."

"Nobody swoons," Shannon said, leading her friend off toward the house. "I don't think anybody has actually swooned since hoop skirts went out of style after the Civil War."

"Bingo," said Dakota with an evil grin, "although it's an earlier war I have in mind. So, tell me why am I swooning now?"

"Because you're a nut."

"I resent that."

"Okay," said Shannon. "You're an eccentric."

"A visionary," Dakota amended. "I come from a whole line of visionaries on my mother's side and visionaries are always misunderstood. Trust me when I tell you I'm picking up definite vibes from another time and place."

Shannon motioned her through the French doors.

"I thought they were broken," Dakota said, glancing about.

"Andrew fixed them."

"You were born under a generous star," Dakota said as they entered the kitchen. "With my luck a plumber would drop out of the skies into my backyard and he'd tell me he didn't work on Sundays."

Shannon opened the refrigerator and pulled out two cans of soda. "Still having trouble with the kitchen sink?"

Dakota rolled her eyes. "The kitchen sink. The bathroom sink. The bathtub. The heating system." She popped the top on the Diet Coke. "That's what happens when you live in an old house."

Shannon sat down at the kitchen table. "My offer still holds," she said, meeting her friend's eyes as Dakota sat down opposite her.

"I'm not going to let you pay for repairs to my house."

"Why not? I have more money than I know what to do with. Why can't I spend it on my friends?"

Dakota took a sip of soda. "You're spending it on him, aren't you?"

Shannon's brows lifted. "The clothes?"

"Don't look so surprised. Did you really think I wasn't going to notice? Suddenly the guy looks like he stepped out of the pages of
GQ
."

Shannon smiled innocently. "I did think that shirt was particularly attractive."

"You paid for all of it."

"What makes you say that?"
Don't flirt with danger, Shannon. You know she'll catch you every time.

"How could he pay for it?" Dakota countered. "He doesn't have any money."

"He has money."

"Yeah, but it's not from this century."

"You really do have a one-track mind, Wylie."

Dakota put her can of soda down on the table top and met Shannon's eyes. "This isn't going to last."

Shannon felt as if someone had her stomach in a vise grip. "What isn't?"

Dakota's gesture encompassed the house and beyond. Her eyes were dreamy behind the tinted lenses of her granny glasses. "Him. You. All of this. I just don't see him here for long."

"You're not making any sense."

Dakota leaned forward and placed a hand on Shannon's forearm. "Sooner or later he's going to have to make a decision and when that time comes, you'll have to let him go."

"He's not an indentured servant, Dakota. He could leave right now if he wanted to."

"But you don't want him to, do you?"

That vise grip on her stomach tightened. "It doesn't much matter to me either way."

"Baloney it doesn't. You've fallen in love with him."