The Day Before Forever (9 page)

When I looked up, all I saw was sky. There was no ceiling. To either side of me was dirt and mud.

I spotted the ladder to my left and started climbing before anyone who was part of the dig could stop me.

“Rebecca!” Henley ran over to me and helped me under the yellow tape. “Is everything all right? Are
you
all right?”

“Yes. I'm fine.” I quickly patted my pocket to make sure the letter was still there. “I got it.”

I felt ridiculous in an ancient dress while Henley was in a T-shirt.

“Let's start walking back.” Henley looked around as he put his arm around me. “What happened?”

I was about to tell him about Mr. Percy and how I had slipped into a former Miss Hatfield's life, but that wasn't what came out of my mouth.

“What would make you stop loving me?”

“Where did that come from?” Henley looked at me closely. “Did something happen?”

I shook my head. “Answer the question.”

“I don't know . . . ,” he said slowly. “I don't think anything you could do would make me unlove you. I don't know if you can really even ‘unlove' someone . . . You sure something didn't
happen?”

His arm felt warm around my shoulder like a cloak.

I didn't want to worry him. I decided to drop the subject, and it was silent all the way back to our room.

“I don't like this,” Henley said, pacing the room.

“I think that's all you ever say nowadays,” I said.

Henley continued to walk back and forth. “Well, I don't like feeling helpless.”

“And pacing is all you ever do.”

Henley stopped and faced me. “What else is there to do other than worry that we'll be killed today?”

“We can do some research on this auction house you found.”

“Research? How?”

“The internet, silly. It's an amazing contraption. Besides, we need to translate the letter I got. The internet can also translate.”

During my time with Miss Hatfield in the twenty-first century, I had gotten quite fond of computers and the wealth of information available on the internet.

“We just need to find a computer. We can ask Aaron at the front desk,” I offered.

Henley slowly nodded. He looked resigned.

“Now let's get out of yesterday's clothes,” I said. It was like leading a child by the hand.

Henley remained seated. “You should change, but these were the only clothes I bought.”

“Okay.” I pulled out the now rumpled black dress from the backpack.

As I began to change, I made a mental note to also ask
Aaron to see the lost and found box, if they had one. There were bound to be articles of clothing left behind at a hostel like this, and maybe something would be Henley's size.

“Ready,” I said.

Henley looked over. The way he sat hunched over, the gray in his face, the troubled look in his eyes—he looked tired.

I held out my hand, but he stood without taking it.

Henley grabbed the backpack with the clock in it, and I made sure I had the key to the room tucked away in the one flimsy pocket of my dress.

When I opened the door, there were two muffins on a paper plate set right outside for us.

Picking up the plate, I handed a muffin to Henley.

“At least breakfast was free,” I said, taking a bite out of mine.

“Blueberry,” Henley said with his mouth full. “My favorite.”

“I never knew that.”

“There are still things for you to learn about me,” he said as we rounded the corner.

Henley opened the white door at the end of the hallway for me.

“Good morning,” Aaron called from behind his desk as we walked into the tiny lobby. “I trust you slept well?”

“We did,” I was quick to say. I glanced at Henley's haggard face and I wondered if I looked the same. I hadn't had time to take a peek at myself in the bathroom mirror before we left. “Some jet lag, though.”

“I can imagine. Where are you both from?”

“New York,” I said.

“The city?”

“Right in the middle of things.”

“I've always wanted to visit. But my partner's actually more one for the country. Me, I've always been a city person.”

I tried to look interested.

“Anyway, can I help you with anything? Oh, let me give you two a map! We try to give all our guests these complimentary maps so you don't have to buy something marked up in a tourist trap.” Aaron dug behind his desk.

A man in green horn-rimmed glasses walked out of the white door we had come from and passed us on his way toward the main door.

Aaron looked up from behind the desk just enough to call out, “Have a nice day, Eddie!”

Eddie waved as he exited the hostel.

I thought back to the scene I had woken up to. “Do you get many guests this time of year?” I asked.

“The weather's finally nice, so yes, but it's not quite the tourist season, so the rush of people hasn't yet started. Even when we're busy, though, this hostel's small enough that I still remember everyone's names. That, and I'm good at remembering names and faces.”

Henley perked up. “So you remember the faces of everyone who comes in here?”

“Proud to say I don't forget a single one.”

I tried to think of a casual, nonchalant way of asking if anyone had come in last night, but Henley beat me to it.

“Did anyone come in last night?” he asked.

Well, that was blunt. Even for him.

“Last night, eh? No one after you two, except for Alanna and Peter a bit later. I was surprised no one went drinking last night. When I went to the pub, it was pretty empty . . . Why? Were you waiting for anyone?”

“We just found these delicious muffins outside our door and were wondering who put them there,” I said. “I noticed none of the other rooms had muffins waiting for them.”

That was reasonably smooth.

Aaron smiled. “That's because Alanna and Peter took them to you. And I'm glad you enjoyed them. I bake them fresh every morning and put them out here at the front desk for people to take on their way out. They assumed the muffins would be all gone by the time you two got up, so they decided to leave them there for you. Wasn't that nice of them?”

Henley and I agreed it was.

“Oh, almost forgot,” Aaron said. He passed us a folded sheet of paper. “Here's the map. The hostel is clearly marked on it.”

“That will be most helpful,” Henley said. He took it and put it in the backpack without even looking at it.

“Is there a computer guests can use here?” I asked.

“I'm afraid not, but there's the local library. They have computers you could use.”

I shot a look at Henley.

“That would be perfect,” he said.

“The library's listed on the map. It's only a short walk from here. Anything else I can help with?” Aaron asked.

“Could I quickly ask if you have a lost and found box or
something of that sort?” I asked, remembering suddenly Henley's lack of clothes.

“Lost something already?” Aaron chortled. “Lucky for you, we do. It's right down the hall from your room. Just keep going past your room and you'll see it. Everyone seems to leave something behind. It's positively overflowing!”

I thanked him.

I grabbed Henley by the arm and walked him back to the room.

“You wait here,” I said. “I'll be right back.”

He didn't even look surprised as he unlocked the door and let himself in.

Hearing the door shut behind me, I kept walking down the hall as Aaron had instructed. I passed the Daffodil room, the Poppy room, the Foxglove room, and a few other rooms with flowers I could not place.

Toward the end of the corridor, there was a crate with random items spilling out of it. The wood was painted a bright blue, and on first glance I saw everything from a baseball mitt to a few paperback books.

The first article of clothing I pulled out was a toddler's dress. It had a pink stain running down the front of it. Strawberry jam? Next was a woman's blouse that was much too big for me. It couldn't be used. I continued rummaging until I found a men's black T-shirt. Sure, it was wrinkled from being stored under the mountain of objects, but it was reasonably clean and looked to be about Henley's size. I found another shirt that said “Jefferson Airplane” on it. I guessed it was some sort of movie or band. It would have to do. For me, I found a turquoise polka-dotted shirt
that didn't look like it was from this era.

Grabbing those three shirts, I made it back to the room and fumbled with my key. With the shirts slung over my arms, I had barely gotten the key into the lock before Henley opened the door.

“Shirts?” I grinned up at him.

“From the lost and found box? Won't someone come looking for these?”

I slipped past him. “I don't think so. These look like they were there a while.”

I tossed him the two shirts I had picked out for him. Henley looked over each one.

“They look clean enough, though I don't like the concept of wearing things other people have worn . . .”

“Oh, like we have a choice,” I said. “You can wash them in the bathroom sink, if you'd like.”

“I think I'll do that,” he said. He grabbed my shirt as well before bringing them to the bathroom.

In the bathroom, he left the door open so he could still hear me. I sat on the bed, and from there I could see Henley's reflection in the mirror that hung on the inside of the bathroom door.

“Jefferson Airplane?” Henley asked, as he started scrubbing with the one tiny soap bar provided.

“Your guess is as good as mine,” I said.

“Sometimes I feel as though I've missed out on quite a lot between the early 1900s and this year that we're now in.”

“It's 2016,” I reminded him. “And you have.”

“Thanks for being mindful of my feelings.”

“Careful, your sarcasm is dripping from your voice.”

Henley laughed. “So that's how you treat a man who's currently washing one of
your
shirts? You know, where I come from, this is a woman's job.”

“Welcome to the twenty-first century. And thank God we're not in where you come from,” I said.

I expected a laugh from Henley, but his voice grew serious instead.

“It wasn't that bad, was it? My time, I mean; 1904 wasn't that bad.”

I saw him put down the shirt he was washing and the soap. He stared at himself in the mirror above the sink, but I didn't know what he saw.

“It was hard,” I admitted. “There was a lot of fitting in to do. Mannerisms, dress, speech—all the things you took for granted. But that's always the same in any time.”

“I suppose you're always adapting.”

“We have to.”

In that moment, I didn't know whether that “we” encompassed Miss Hatfield and me, or whether I meant Henley and me.

Henley wordlessly resumed washing and only came out once he had hung the shirts to dry from the shower curtain rail.

“Ready to go to the library?” I asked. I already had the backpack slung over my shoulder. I felt the weight of the clock and the jewelry against the small of my back.

“Just let me get my key from the bedside table . . .” Henley was back in a second.

We made sure to lock our door, though I didn't know what we were locking it against. A murderer had already walked into
our room, after all.

We waved good-bye to Aaron at the front desk and made it a block before having to pull out the map.

“We're going in completely the wrong direction,” Henley said. He sounded convinced, but he kept turning the map this way and that.

“Do you even know how to read that thing?”

“Of course I do.” He jabbed a finger at the paper. “We're here. And it says the library is . . . here.”

I stood on my toes to peek over the map. “That's not the library at all.”

“No, but—”

“See, look. It says museum.”

“Fine. Then why don't you—”

“The library's here.” I pointed across the page. “It's clearly labeled, and we're walking in the right direction.”

I took the map from Henley and folded it up before slipping it back into the front pocket of the backpack.

Henley huffed.

“Oh, what would you do without me.” I poked his side.

We walked for what felt like ten minutes just like that—quipping at each other instead of talking about the more difficult things. We both wanted to forget about what was at stake, even though it was stuck in the back of our minds.

A series of white steps led up to the entrance of the library. It didn't look like a big building, but it felt larger on the inside than it looked on the outside. The whitewashed walls gave way to stacks and shelves of books.

The circulation desk was right in front of us as we walked
in. Immediately a curly-haired woman behind the desk eyed us sharply. I walked toward her.

“Excuse me. Would it be possible for us to use the computers here?”

She looked at us quizzically, but I couldn't figure out why.

“Yeah . . .” was all she said.

I didn't get it. Was I not supposed to ask?

I stared at her until she pointed to her left.

Perfect. That was where the computers were set up.

“Come on,” I said to Henley.

I took a seat at the first computer, Henley sitting next to me. There was a sign stuck to the monitor, and we read it carefully.

“I don't understand.” Henley was the first to speak. “We're supposed to pay for the use of this computer by the minute? Isn't this a library? Aren't things supposed to be free in a library?” He squinted at the sign again.

“It says a penny a minute.”

I moved the computer mouse to wake the computer. A text box came up on the screen, prompting us for a credit card number.