The Edge of Forever (17 page)

By the time Sela finishes, Aunt Grace is chewing on her bottom lip. “Sugar, I didn’t know you had such a hard time. I guess I can let Alora off the hook early.” She puts the spatula in the frosting bowl and folds Sela into a hug.

Sela grins over Aunt Grace’s shoulder and flashes two thumbs up at me. I have to choke back a snort. I didn’t believe she’d be able to pull it off. Then a sinking feeling settles in my chest.

Now I’ll have to go to that stupid party with Sela. Wonderful.

As Sela extracts herself form Aunt Grace’s hug, we hear a muffled shriek. We scramble over to the sink and peer out the window. An older-looking couple is in the backyard, halfway to the garden, carrying on about something. It looks like they’re talking or arguing with someone else, but I can’t make out who it is.

“Who are they?” I ask Aunt Grace.

“That’s Mr. and Mrs. Jamison. They dropped in today and are staying for the weekend. Nice couple, but a little odd.”

Sela lets out a low whistle. “Who’s the hottie with them?”

I glance back out the window. Mr. Jamison has moved out of the way, revealing the third person. “No way,” I whisper, feeling a tingle in my stomach.

It’s the guy who was here a few days ago.

“I wonder what he wants,” Aunt Grace mutters as she heads for the back door. Sela and I follow.

“Hello? You never told me who the guy is,” Sela says as we descend the back porch steps.

“I’ll tell you later.”

Ahead of us, Mrs. Jamison is waving her arms wildly, gesturing toward Bridger, while Mr. Jamison snaps a picture of him. In return, Bridger holds his hands up like he doesn’t want to have his picture taken. I’m surprised he’s still wearing the same uniform he had on the other day. And he looks like he recently took a dirt bath.

“Will you stop that?” He asks in an exasperated voice.

“What’s going on?” Aunt Grace asks when we join them.

Mrs. Jamison turns to me, her face a kaleidoscope of excitement. “Can you see him?”

“See who?” I ask.

“The ghost!” she yells, pointing to Bridger.

“I’m not a ghost!” he shouts, looking at me. “Tell her.”

“Charles, she can see him! Oh, this is marvelous!” Mrs. Jamison fans herself. “Lordy, I’m light-headed.”

“Calm down, dear,” her husband says, patting her on the shoulder. “Remember your blood pressure.”

Sela giggles. I scowl at her before repeating Aunt Grace’s question.

Bridger points to Mrs. Jamison. “This woman thinks I’m a ghost. Obviously, I’m not.”

“Yes, he is. He appeared out of thin air. Charles and I saw him. Didn’t we?”

“We sure did,” Mr. Jamison replies, snapping another picture.

I close my eyes. Great, we have ghost hunters staying with us. We get those from time to time, since the inn is a former plantation house. They’re always convinced that spirits of Civil War–era people haunt places like this. “He’s not a ghost. I know him.”

Instantly, the Jamisons’ excited expressions disappear like someone erased them. “You know him?” Mrs. Jamison asks in a disbelieving voice.

“Yeah. I met him a few days ago. His name is Bridger . . .” I raise my eyebrows at him.

He looks stunned for a moment before answering. “Creed. Bridger Creed. And I am
not
a ghost. I promise.”

“But we saw you appear out of nowhere.”

Aunt Grace sighs. “Mrs. Jamison, it is hot outside. Maybe your eyes are playing tricks on you.”

“But—”

“My niece and I met him two days ago. He’s new in town and he’s most definitely alive.”

The Jamisons cast a wistful glance at Bridger. I can practically see their dreams of finding a real spirit slip away.

“Dear, I guess we need to go get ready for supper,” Mr. Jamison says, taking his wife by the arm. “Sorry to bother you, young man. It was an honest mistake.” He escorts his wife back to the inn.

“Wow, talk about crazy.” Sela breaks the silence, twirling a finger next to her temple. She smiles at Bridger and offers her hand. “Since Alora has forgotten her manners, I’ll intro myself. I’m Sela Perkins.”

“Nice to meet you,” he says. From the tone of his voice, he doesn’t mean it. He toys with the bag strap hanging over his shoulder and flicks his eyes back toward the forest.

“So, what brings you back?” I ask. “We didn’t expect to see you again after your disappearing act.”

“I wasn’t expecting to be here again so soon, either.”

Aunt Grace props her hands on her hips. “That was rude of you to up and leave without saying goodbye.”

Bridger’s mouth opens and shuts several times before he says, “I’m sorry about that. It’s just that I got an urgent call from . . . my mother. She needed me back home and I had to leave right then. I didn’t want to bother you anymore.”

“But everything’s okay now?” Aunt Grace asks. “How about your knee?”

“Everything’s fine, so I came back to look for my father again.”

Aunt Grace’s face softens. She glances to me, then back to Bridger. “Well, my offer still stands. You’re welcome to stay here.”

Bridger doesn’t say anything for a few seconds. It’s like he’s trying to figure out the pieces to an invisible puzzle. Finally he says, “Okay, I’ll do it.”

“Well, come on inside and I’ll show you to your room.”

A slow smile spreads across Sela’s face as we watch Bridger and Aunt Grace walk to the house. “So he’s new in town, huh?”

“Yes.”

“Sah-weet.” Before I know it, Sela calls out, “Hey, Bridger, wait up.”

I stare openmouthed as Bridger faces us. Aunt Grace tilts her head to the side. I don’t have any choice but to follow Sela and see what she’s scheming.

“Are you gonna be in town long?” she asks.

He nods. “I think so.”

“Oh, good. Then you’ll need someone to show you around.”

Bridger now has a deer-caught-in-the-headlights look. I probably look the same because I know what Sela is about to ask.

“I was thinking,” Sela continues, twirling a strand of hair around her finger, “you could go out with me and Alora and some of our friends tomorrow night. We could show you around.”

I know I’m looking at Sela like she’s sprouted a second head. I want to ask her what she thinks she’s doing, asking a guy we don’t even know to go to a party with us. It’s insane, even if he is cute.

Apparently Bridger doesn’t think so. He hesitates for a moment, then says, “Sure, why not?”

20

BRIDGER

APRIL 12, 2013

A
fter Grace deposits me in my room, I collapse on the bed. The fact that I’m an idiot keeps racing through my mind. It’s like I’m trying to see how many stupid things I can do today. Travel illegally to the past? Check. Shoot my professor and a high-ranking DTA official? Check. Agree to socialize with some ghosts? Check.

Everything would be fine if I could shift to moments before I arrived back in 2146. I could warn myself to get out of there before the Space Bender could catch me. I wouldn’t be a prime candidate for nulling right now. But you’re not supposed to change what’s already happened.

This is why I’m having such a hard time wrapping my mind around the fact that Dad wanted to prevent Alora’s death. How it that possible without destroying the timeline?

I throw my hand over my eyes. My head could burst into flames and I’m sure I wouldn’t feel any worse.

Then I remember something Alora said when I was dealing with that psycho couple. She told them she met me a few days ago. My hands fist, and I slam them against the blue comforter.

I’m still three months away from Alora’s death date.

So basically I’m stuck here because I can’t risk shifting back to my own time. General Anderson must be wilding out right now. He’ll have the search parameters extended to encompass way outside of Willow Creek. And if I’m caught, he’ll make damn sure I won’t escape again. Not even with Professor March’s help. And
why
did he help me escape? Nothing makes sense anymore.

I stare up at the ceiling, trying to come up with a way to get closer to Alora’s death date. But of course I can’t. Not without a Chronoband.

I blink back at the heaviness clouding my thoughts. I don’t know how long I’ve been awake. It feels like forever. Time travel requires tons of energy, and I’ve already shifted three times today. I roll off the bed and strip to my Skivvies. The sour tang of sweat is even worse now that I’m undressed. I think about taking a shower, but it can wait. Instead, I fall back on the bed and close my eyes.

It’s not like I’m going anywhere soon.

A loud rapping at the door jolts me awake. I blink several times, taking in the antique furniture. And then I groan.

Before I can say anything, the door opens and Alora peeks in. “Hey, Aunt Grace wants . . .” She stops when she notices I’m stretched out across the bed in my Skivvies. Her eyes seem to double in size. “I’m so sorry!”

She jerks the door shut.

“Alora, wait a minute,” I say as I scramble off the bed. I grab my pants and pull them on as I half hop, half walk to the door.

In the hallway, Alora is leaning against the wall, taking deep breaths. Her hair is pressed behind her, but one strand is stuck against her cheek. My fingers itch to reach over and brush it away. Something I would’ve done with Vika.

“I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have barged in like that,” she says.

“It’s fine.”

“No, it’s not. Aunt Grace would have a fit if she knew I . . .” Alora trails off as she glances at me. She focuses on my bare chest for a second before looking down.

I feel sorry for Alora. If possible, her face is even redder than it was when she first saw me on the bed. So what if she saw me undressed? She’s acting like she’s never seen a guy in his Skivvies.

Before I can stop myself, I reach out to lift her chin. “Hey, it’s not a big deal.”

I start to tell her something else, but all thought evaporates when she fixates on me with those blue eyes. It’s almost like I’m shifting through time. I can’t breathe. I don’t know what I’m feeling, but it’s not good. I shake my head and drop my hand.

Alora takes a quick step back. “I’ve got to go. Aunt Grace almost has supper ready.”

I don’t know why, but I feel empty as Alora turns to walk away, then I remember she wanted something. “Hey, what did you want to ask me?”

“Oh, yeah.” Alora pivots around and runs her hand across her forehead. “I forgot. Aunt Grace wanted to know if you’d like to join us for supper.”

“I thought I’d have to eat somewhere else,” I say. Am I wrong? These old-style bed-and-breakfast-type places only served food in the morning.

“Usually you would, but Aunt Grace thought you’d like to eat with us tonight. But you don’t have to if you’ve got other plans.” She finishes the last sentence in a rush.

The uncomfortable feeling from moments before disappears. This is perfect. If I’m stuck here for three months, I might as well start trying to figure out why my dad wanted to save Alora from dying. “No, I’d like that. And if it’s okay, could I get you to show me around later?”

Alora bites her lower lip and glances past me. I turn to see what she’s looking at, but there are only more closed doors. “There’s something I need to do, but I guess I could show you around first.”

“Great. I can’t wait.”

Alora’s face glows as she smiles back. “I’ll see you downstairs.”

“Okay. I’ll be down as soon as I shower.”

I watch Alora walk away for a few moments before ducking back in my room. Weird, but I find myself feeling lighter and grinning.

I tell myself it’s because this is the first step toward finding the truth.

Not because I want to spend time with Alora.

“Are you sure you don’t want more?” Grace asks as I finish a huge slice of her strawberry cake.

I glance at the cake sitting on the kitchen counter before declining. I wouldn’t mind having another. But the entire time we were eating supper, Grace asked one question after another. And I had to lie. She’s definitely a nosy ghost.

Alora grabs our empty plates and sets them by the sink. “I’m going to show Bridger around for a little while before it gets too dark.”

“Oh really? And where are y’all going?” Grace asks.

“What’s up with all the questions?” Alora asks.

Grace’s gaze slides over to me. “It’s my responsibility to know what my niece is doing. Wouldn’t you agree, Bridger?”

I know that look. My mom does something similar when she’s in my business. The difference is that I can tell Grace is concerned for Alora’s safety, not because she’s a control freak. So I nod yes.

Grace’s face relaxes. “Well, then, you two go on. I’ll take cleaning duty.”

Alora doesn’t waste any time hurrying outside. I follow before Grace can think of something else to quiz me about. When we’re on the back porch, she says, “Sorry about all that.”

“Why?”

“Because of Aunt Grace. She likes to know everything.”

“Don’t worry about it. She’s just concerned. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“Yeah,” Alora says with a shrug. “But she was starting to get on my nerves. I can imagine how you felt.”

“Well, she is letting me stay here for a while and she doesn’t know me,” I say, smiling.

“Oh, please.” Alora rolls her eyes. “That’s not it. We have strangers here all the time.” She then waves her hand around the general area of the backyard. “So, what would you like to see?”

I scan the yard. It looks the same and yet different from the museum setup in 2146. The grassy expanse stretching toward the forest is the same, with a dirt path bisecting it. But in this time there is a large garden full of brightly colored roses. There is also a small, paved area to the left of the porch where Grace and the other guests park their autos.

I remember the article on Dad’s DataDisk. Alora’s body is supposed to be found in an old, abandoned house on the property. I gesture toward a path parting the forest. “What’s that way?”

Alora’s mouth presses to a thin line. “It leads to the river.”

“Can we go there?”

Alora focuses on the path for a few seconds, then says, “I suppose so.”

I watch her as she bounds down the steps, her hair bouncing over her shoulders. The late afternoon sun makes it shine like it’s lit from within, kind of sexy-like. I shake my head, disgusted. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.