Now and Forever (59 page)

Mayhap there was nothing so peculiar about those clouds after all, he reasoned as he crossed the wide expanse of lawn and headed toward the garage. They seemed to occur in this world with some frequency, if the past few days were any indication.

The garage was open and he stepped inside. His intention was solely to gather up the hand tools and set to work but he found himself drawn to the corner of the structure where he'd stored the basket and balloon.

"'Tis a mistake to look," he said aloud as he approached. What did it matter if the silk of the balloon had faded even more or if the basket looked as if it had travelled through a nor'easter? He did not seek a way back to his own time.

Still, his curiosity could not be denied. He pulled the cover from the odd contraption and stared in disbelief. This time it was not the fading of the fabric that gave him pause; it was the nature of the fabric itself. The color had remained constant since last he viewed it but the silk was thinner, almost transparent in nature, so sheer it looked as if it could not sustain a puff of smoke, much less the magic fire that had transported them there. The torn pages Dakota had given to him were scattered about and he pushed down the stirrings of curiosity.

"No matter," he said, turning away. Emilie and Zane...Josiah and Rebekah...they were gone, all of them. Their lives had ended long ago. It was his turn now. His turn to choose the life he deserved.

He would not leave this place. Not so long as Shannon loved him.

 
#

"You look awful, honey."

Dakota looked up from the stack of papers she was cataloguing. "Mom! What are you doing here?"

Ginny Wylie was the mirror-image of her daughter, except twenty years older. They shared the same short-cropped black curls, dark eyes, funky clothes sense, and psychic abilities. Over the years the latter had made the mother-daughter relationship rocky at times and sublime at others. The one thing it never was, was boring.

"I had another dream," Ginny announced. "I had to come see for myself."

Dakota removed her glasses and rubbed her eyes. "Well, now you've seen, Mom. I'm still here, still single. I haven't run off with some mystery man. Satisfied?"

Of course Ginny wasn't. She sat on the edge of the desk and considered Dakota. "You've gained weight."

"Thanks, Mom. Have you noticed the bags under my eyes, too?"

"I'm not being critical, honey. I'm worried about you."

"There's nothing to worry about," Dakota said, wondering where this was leading. "I'm fine."

"No, you're not."

"Is this a psychic assessment or a maternal judgment?"

"A little of both." Ginny leaned forward and grabbed Dakota's hands in hers. "You've been having dizzy spells, haven't you?"

"I'm not pregnant, if that's what you're asking."

Ginny made a face. "Of course you're not pregnant. You need a man to get pregnant."

"Thanks again, Mom," Dakota said dryly. "I'm fat, light-headed, and manless. And people wonder why I'm considering therapy."

"They've been here, haven't they?" Ginny lifted her head and practically sniffed the air like a bloodhound.

Why waste time denying it? This was as bad as when Dakota was sixteen and praying Ginny's E.S.P. wouldn't come up with the fact that she was dating the town bad boy. Unfortunately that sounded more exciting than it actually was. In her day, the Princeton High School bad boy was a rich kid with an overbite and five overdue library books.

"Yes," Dakota said at last. "They were here yesterday."

"You can feel it in your bones," Ginny said. "The man has quite a force field around him."

"Tell me about it," Dakota muttered.

"That's why you've been fainting, isn't it?"

"I haven't been fainting. I've been swooning. There's a difference."

"Is it only when he's around?"

You're good, Mom. I have to grant you that.
"He doesn't have an aura, Mom. Standing next to him is like standing at the edge of a black hole in space."
Great going, Dakota. As if she doesn't know enough already.

"So when's he going back?" Ginny asked with the same matter-of-fact tone she used to ask if you wanted more mashed potatoes.

"Back where?"

"Wherever he came from." Ginny waved her hand in the air. "1588. 1776. 1812. It's somewhere around there."

"What makes you think he's from another time?"

"I have no idea," said Ginny. "I just know it's true."

Dakota tried to sidestep the issue. "He's living with Shannon."

"Not for long," said Ginny. "He has an opportunity to go back right now but he isn't paying attention to the signs."

Dakota swallowed. "You feel that, too?"

"Who wouldn't?" countered Ginny. "It's clear as the nose on your face."

"What if he doesn't go right now? Will he get another chance?"

"The window is shrinking," Ginny said with conviction. "Sooner or later he'll lose his opportunity."

"And then what? He won't die or anything, will he?"

"I don't know," said Ginny. "But there will be far-reaching repercussions. His future is tied in with the futures of many others. That's one thing I'm sure of."

Dakota thought of the papers she'd given to Andrew. She wondered how he felt reading about the struggles his friends had endured during the War, the dangers they'd faced. "I wish I could make Shannon see that."

"She's in love with him, isn't she?"

Dakota nodded, wishing she had some Oreos. "I'm afraid so."

"Tell her not to worry," Ginny said with breezy assurance. "She can go with him."

Dakota had to laugh out loud. "You make it sound so easy."

"It is easy," Ginny said. "Just follow your heart."

"Most people don't have to follow their hearts across the centuries."

"Life's an adventure, honey. Most people are scared to death of living out their dreams."

Dakota was reminded of the time fifteen or sixteen years ago when her parents took the family to see
Close Encounters of the Third Kind.
They'd all been mesmerized by the story of ordinary people handpicked by extraterrestrials to experience life on another planet. After the movie Ginny had asked the kids what they thought about the movie and Dakota's siblings had all agreed they'd like to see the inside of the space ship but they wouldn't like to live there.

"I would," Dakota had piped up. "I'd go to outer space in a minute."

Her brothers and sister had laughed and teased her mercilessly but Ginny had met her eyes and in her mother's look Dakota had seen understanding and admiration.

"I really should get back to work, Mom," Dakota said. "Dr. Forsythe's been on my case lately."

Ginny made a face. "Oh, who cares about him. You're not going to be here forever, honey."

"You're a regular ray of sunshine today," Dakota said. "First you tell me I'm fat, then you tell me I'm heading toward unemployment. What's next, Mom? Gonna tell me there's no Santa Claus?"

"Very funny." Ginny leaned across the desk and kissed her daughter's cheek. "Don't forget what I said, honey: life's an adventure."

"What exactly does that mean?"

"You'll know when the time comes." Her mother's aura was a sunny lemon yellow, probably just like Mother Teresa's.

Dakota let out a sigh of exasperation. "This is how psychics get a bad name," she said, feeling irritable and out of sorts. "If just one of us could answer a question in plain English, we'd all be a lot better off."

"I'll ignore that," said Ginny. "Your aura's looking a little off today." She patted Dakota's hand and stood up. "The Fountain of Vitality has a sale on ginseng. You might want to stock up."

With that her mother swept out of the library in a cloud of patchouli, leaving Dakota staring after her.

Of course Dr. Forsythe chose that moment to pop out of his office.

"You know how I feel about visiting with friends on work time, Miss Wylie."

Dakota looked up at him blandly. "You've mentioned ita time or two."

"Friends visited you yesterday." He made it sound like a crime against humanity.

"With a legitimate question of an historical nature."
Don't look at me like I graduated from Romper Room. I went to college, too, Forsythe.

"And what about that oddly-dressed lady who was sitting on your desk?"

Dakota grinned. "That was no oddly-dressed lady sitting on my desk, Dr. Forsythe. That was my mother."

His cheeks reddened. "Well, keep her off your desk."

"I'll do my best," said Dakota.

"See that you do."

"Puce," said Dakota.

He looked at her. "What was that?"

"I said, puce. Your aura's puce. You really should do something about that, Dr. Forsythe."

Dr. Forsythe stormed off, muttering something about insubordination, but Dakota just smiled.
You're right, Mom
she thought
. I
won't
be here forever.

She wondered how she would like unemployment.

Chapter Twenty

The sales clerk at the men's store at Bridgewater Commons had turned fawning into an art form. Shannon, never a fan of groveling, found it difficult to mask her distaste.

"You're certain you can deliver the tuxedo by tomorrow afternoon?"

"You have our word, Ms. Whitney," he said with a slight bow of his head. "The End of Summer Masked Gala is a most important event here in Somerset County. We would never let any of our illustrious patrons down." He bared his teeth in an approximation of a smile. "Your friend is a lucky man to be so well taken care of."

Shannon fumed as she headed across the sunny corridor toward Lord & Taylor. The salesman made it sound like Andrew was a gigolo or something. A kept man, if there really was such a thing. Women picked out suits and shirts and all sorts of things for their husbands. Entire sitcoms had been built around that premise. For all that cretin knew, Shannon was Andrew's wife, out to do some more clothes shopping for her husband.

Feeling a little touchy, are you?
an annoying voice asked.

She marched through the cosmetics department, scarcely noticing the squirt girls with their loaded perfume bottles, ready to assault unsuspecting customers. Of course she wasn't feeling touchy. The only thing she was feeling was annoyed that she'd let an obsequious salesman get away with that untoward remark.

Right,
that annoying voice continued.
And this has nothing to do with what you saw in the garage, does it?

She wheeled past the DKNY display of lush autumn knits and headed for the down escalator. She'd been doing her best to push it from her mind but apparently her best wasn't good enough. The image of Andrew, standing before the hot air balloon and basket, was as vivid in memory as it had been in reality. She'd noted the faded silk, the crumbling basket, but more than that she'd noted the look in Andrew's eyes.

He hadn't seen her standing in the shadows as he ran his hand along the rim of the gondola, an odd expression on his face. You didn't have to be clairvoyant to know that he had been thinking about the life he'd left behind. There must be something he missed about his old life, something he longed for.

I'll make you forget all of it,
she thought as she headed for the men's department.
Whatever it is, I'll find a way to make it all up to you.

She was flipping through a display of white dress shirts when she had the uncomfortable sensation that someone was watching her. She glanced over her right shoulder and noted a well-dressed man in a business suit and tie peering at her from behind a rack of silk ties.

She went back to looking at the shirts. If he was looking to strike up a conversation with her, certainly he'd get the message that she wasn't interested.