Paradigm (Travelers Series Book 3) (3 page)

Etta suddenly had a idea. “Did any of you ever read Dickens?” she asked.

“Who?” Tyler, the quietest member of the group, responded first. “Never heard of Dickens, and I read a lot in the psych ward.”

Moose squirmed in his seat next to Taylor. He had a major crush on her and hated when she talked about her time in the Dominion Hospital. He knew she wasn’t the one responsible for setting fire to her family home, and it killed him to know she spent most of her life in involuntary commitment. “Nope, me either.”

Etta sighed. She knew her friends came from other realities that didn’t always share the same literature as she had growing-up. “Well, it was worth a shot. Charles Dickens was a legendary writer in my orphan reality. You couldn’t get through school without reading one of his classics.” As an orphan, or rather, when she lived in the reality in which she was lead to believe she was an orphan, she had developed a sort of kinship with the writer. His characters touched her in a way no author could. He would always remain one of her favorites. “I’m thinking a little
Christmas Carol
is in order,” she said, already scheming.

“But it’s May,” one of the Dyson twins pointed out. “What does any of this have to do with Christmas?”

“Yes, I know this, thank you, Chance. In the story by Dickens, Ebenezer Scrooge was visited by three ghosts,” Etta started.

“I think you’re thinking of the three wise men who visited Jesus in the manger,” Jenny chimed in. “Is that the Christmas story you’re thinking of?”

“No, Jenny.
A Christmas Carol
. I just said it was a story by Dickens.” She really did love Jenny, but sometimes she could be a bit spacey. “As I was saying, Ebenezer was visited by three ghosts: past, present, and future. If Cooper expects me to believe that he’s not only from the future, but a future in another reality in which I lead the rebellion against Thornberry, he’s going to need to bring in the big guns.” Etta looked around the room to make sure they were all listening. “And by that, I mean you guys.”

Present Reality

T
he hangover I was afraid of getting is a massive understatement compared to what I actually feel like this morning. I know for a fact I didn’t have that much to drink last night, other than the tequila, but still—oh, my pounding head! Maybe it’s a combination of the tequila shot and my mind still buzzing over seeing Cooper again. After the incident at Battle Grounds all those years ago, I’d convinced myself that he’d never return, and now here he is. Why now, after all this time?

As I try to forget the lasting image of Cooper at the bar last night out of my mind, I drag myself out of bed and head straight to the kitchen. Thankfully, I remembered to set the timer on my most prized possession: a Cuisinart Extreme Brew 3000. It’s not in my nature to buy something so extravagant as a two-hundred-dollar appliance when a simple, yet inexpensive, Mr. Coffee would do, but Audrey gifted me the Cuisinart for Christmas last year. It took brewing coffee to a whole other level.

Mug in hand, I make my way over to the sofa and realize that my earlier assessment wasn’t too far off the mark. After sipping a few precious drops of caffeine, the tension I felt upon waking up begins to subside. My headache is now reduced to a dull annoyance, so I can rule out the amount of alcohol I drank, so it has to be Cooper weighing on my mind. People say everyone has regrets, and for the longest time I considered myself someone without any. But every now and then, I think back to that night at the coffee shop and wonder what my life would have been like had I left with him. Even after all these years, I never brought the subject up with Jaime, and I certainly never told Alex about my brief relationship with Cooper. Can one even call it a relationship when it was only a few chance encounters? Nonetheless, it was a chapter of my life that remained hidden in the back of my psyche.

There’s a part of me that finds my internal musings about what happened all those years ago completely without reason. I still don’t have a clue why he sought me out and what it was he wanted. There’s a part of me that feels that it was something grander and it had to do with my future. My destiny. That, and he still haunts my dreams.

Work is oblivious to what day of the week it is, even if it is my birthday. It’s business as usual at the office, as Audrey hands me cases to file and clients to call back. I don’t even mention my special day. Not even when she has me run errands all over town.

By the end of the day, I’m just about ready to call it quits, when Audrey approaches me at my desk. I only hope she doesn’t hand me another brief to review.

“You didn’t really think I’d forget your birthday, did you?”

Actually, I did. But I can’t say that, so I opt for, “Of course not.”

“Here,” she says, handing me a brightly colored wrapped box. “Happy Birthday, Etta.”

Her words sound pleasant, but her tone is dry. Audrey is actually pretty gorgeous, with short blonde hair and an awesome figure. It’s just too bad she’s always so surly. Don’t get me wrong, she’s a pretty great boss to work for, and yeah, she always has me working long hours, but sometimes I wish she’d just learn how to smile or even appear to be jovial. I guess working as a family law attorney can drain the spirit out of you.

“Oh my God, it’s an eStorm!” The new version just came out and I’ve been dying for one of these computer tablets for years. Audrey may be lacking in the warmth department, but she certainly doesn’t lack when it comes to gift giving. “You shouldn’t have.”

“That’s so you can work from home,” she says, knowing I don’t have a computer at home.

Well, so much for having fun on the internet or streaming video. Then again, I can still enjoy it when she doesn’t have me researching stuff at home. “This is great, really.”

“You’re welcome. Now, don’t you have to be somewhere tonight with Alex?”

That’s right! Alex is supposed to pick me up in an hour to take me for my birthday surprise. Hanging out with the gang was fun last night, but I’m looking forward to spending some quality alone time with Alex. That’s when I feel a twinge of guilt over thinking about Cooper. How can I think about him, when I have such a great boyfriend?

I thank Audrey once again for the gift that’s now tucked carefully in my bag and head straight home. I don’t live far from the office, so I walk the few blocks home and barely make it in time to get ready for my date.

“Happy birthday, Etta!” Alex’s voice carries throughout my small apartment. This is an example of those times when I actually regret something, like giving Alex a key to my place. I’m sure the neighbors next door can hear him whoop through the walls, but the irritation only lasts for a second as I find a grinning Alex waiting for me in the living room.

“How’s the birthday girl today? Not still hungover, are we?”

Sometimes his gushing over me can get a bit annoying, but I don’t push him away as he pulls me into a hug. I embrace him back and have to remind myself that I’m happy being with him. How can I not be? I mean, the guy is gorgeous and he’s going to law school for crying out loud. Isn’t stability something I’ve been waiting for all my life?

Is this really what I want, though? Back in high school, the prospect of dating Alex was too much to hope for, and I have no reason to complain about having Alex as a boyfriend. But there’s that lingering feeling deep down inside where I know something isn’t right, and I’ve been feeling this way for months. I’ve never believed in soul mates, but if I did, I don’t think Alex is the one. I love him to death, but I’ve never felt that zing, the butterflies in the stomach reaction, that connects my soul to his. Then again, life isn’t a fairy tale. This is reality, and I have everything I want, which is more than some people get.

“Not too shabby, all things considered,” I say, my voice muffled against his chest.

“I was afraid you overdid things a bit last night.”

“Me? Nah. Just a little sleep-deprived, that’s all.” I’m not going to mention how long it took me to fall asleep, nor all the work I had to do for Audrey today. I’m completely wiped out.

“Well, I hope the surprise I have in store for you tonight will snap you back into the world of the living.”

“Don’t keep me hanging. What are we doing?”

“Oh, you’ll find out soon enough. Why don’t you finish getting dressed, and we’ll head on out? And don’t bother getting all dolled up just for me, we’re keeping it casual.”

I snort as I hurry to the bathroom to freshen up. Fancy is hardly a term used to describe my fashion sense. If it weren’t for Audrey and her cast-offs, I’d probably wear jeans and a t-shirt on a daily basis.

Alex isn’t kidding about making our outing a casual affair. When we leave my apartment, we don’t get into his car, but rather walk a couple of blocks until we reach our final destination. Good thing I decided to wear flops. Walking in heels would have proven difficult with the cobblestone streets in this part of Old Town.

I’ve lived in this area for years, but I’m not familiar with this section of town. From the outside, it looks like a storefront. I hope we’re not going shopping. Alex knows how I feel about that. So now I’m even more curious about my birthday surprise. Alex leads me by the arm as we enter the store that boasts the most enticing smells. Lunch?

“Welcome!” The salt-and-pepper-haired woman greets us as we walk into the studio kitchen. Looks like there are others already here, so I’m a bit embarrassed that Alex and I are one of the last ones to arrive. “My name is Maggie Thompson. Thank you for joining us today. I hope you will enjoy this lesson in baking basics!” The woman points to a shiny stainless steel stove.

I turn to face Alex. “Cooking lessons? This is my surprise?”

He offers me a sheepish grin and shrugs. If he caught my somewhat disappointed expression, he doesn’t show it. “You always said you wanted to learn how to cook.”

Okay, I hate to admit it, but I’m a horrible cook. But I don’t know if I should feel flattered that Alex remembered my constant expletives over dozens of burnt dinners, or horrified that he wishes I were better suited in the kitchen.

“Now, don’t be nervous, dear. We’re all here to learn,” the lady’s chipper voice boomed as she walks back towards the front of the studio.

An overwhelming sense of déjà vu suddenly takes hold as I watch the woman demonstrate how to properly whisk eggs. It’s as if I’ve watched her cook for me on previous occasions—which is impossible because if a woman as nice as this lady had ever cooked for me before, I’d certainly remember it.

“Hey, Etta, your butter is burning.” Alex nudges me out of my trance and I immediately turn the knob on the stove. We’d quickly moved on to the next step in the recipe and I’m already lost. It would be like me to mess up something as simple as melting butter. Perhaps signing us up for this class was all in vain, and Alex will never get a home-cooked meal out of me.

“Oops. I guess baking really isn’t my thing after all.” I apologize for screwing up the recipe. Not only that, but I just feel bad in general about him shelling out the extra dough (no pun intended) for my birthday.

Maggie comes over to our stove and places a small bowl in front of me. “Oh, don’t worry about that. Here, I always prepare a little extra.” She laughed, replacing her bowl of butter with mine. “I’ll be honest, though, I don’t think I’ve ever had a student having problems with the basics.”

I can feel my face flush with embarrassment. “Sorry. I guess that’s why my boyfriend signed us up for this lesson.” It’s one thing to do something stupid in front of your boyfriend, but to have the instructor notice? Talk about totally mortifying. “For my birthday,” I add.

“Well, happy birthday!” Maggie’s smile spreads across her face, making me feel better already. She walks back up to the front of the studio and stops right before she reaches her cooking station. “Class, we have ourselves a birthday girl in our midst! Why don’t we all save a few of those cookies for Etta to take home?”

Okay, so her announcement is possibly more embarrassing than me screwing up melted butter, but there’s something about the way she makes a big fuss over my birthday that gives me a case of the warm fuzzies. Almost as if she cares about me, and she’s only just met me.

Perhaps I should let Alex take care of all the cooking in the future. His chocolate chip cookies come out deliciously gooey, while mine are better suited for shot put. I look around the kitchen and am happy to see everyone is so preoccupied with their own culinary magic that they’ve ignored my gastronomical horrors.

As the end of class nears and the students prepare to leave, the nagging feeling that I know this woman makes it hard for me to leave. I find it hard not to stare at her as she compliments each student’s baked goods as she thanked them for taking the class.

I continue to watch Maggie go around the kitchen thanking everyone for their participation. Her last stop is our cooking station. To her credit, she says nothing of my disastrous batch of cookies, but does take notice of my blatant curiosity towards her. “Are you all right, dear?”

“Um, yeah. I just can’t shake the notion that I know you from somewhere. You didn’t by any chance foster kids way back when, did you?” I seriously doubt this is where I know her from, but it’s worth a shot. Besides, I really think I’d remember if she ever fostered me.

“No, I’m sorry. Why? Were you a foster child?” She seems genuinely concerned. I don’t know if it’s because I just told her I’m an orphan, or because she’s a nice lady overall.

“Yeah, but it’s no biggie. I guess I was just trying to place you.”

“We all have those moments,” she laughs. “Especially at my age.” She stops speaking long enough to give me another once over. “You know, you look a little familiar, too.”

She’s probably trying to make me feel better, but it’s nice to hear just the same. Maybe I’m not crazy. “That’s a relief. Glad to hear it’s not just me. I’ve probably just seen you around town.”

Maggie gives my shoulder a gentle squeeze. Normally, this would offend me, as I’m not much for having people I just met touching me, but coming from her, it’s not so bad. It was motherly, caring.