The Time Seekers (The Soul Seekers Book 2) (8 page)

“Oh.” In quick motion, I peeled them off and slid them under my belt for safekeeping. My suitcase was tucked between my feet; I could only hope it would travel with me. If not, I’d have to start from scratch, with no money. It’d be good to lose the girdle, though.

William wove our fingers together. The two of us laughed. “Remember the time in the old library when we—?” I asked, thinking about a very happy moment in
my
life.

“Concentrate, Emma. Close your eyes.”

I did. I closed them tight and felt little waves of electricity sparking between us, like we were extension cords plugged together. One spark was particularly painful; it came from my ring finger, spreading down my arm in sharp surges.

William groaned; he broke the hold. “It’s our rings. I’ll take mine off and you can keep it with you, okay?”

“Sure.” I slid both into my pocket book. “Done.” I closed my eyes and felt our fingers intertwine again.

“Now, it’s very warm outside, and it’s night. We are in the town square with many people around: children, their parents, seniors, teenagers with ponytails and greased-back hair. Vendors are selling hotdogs and ice cream, and there’s a sweet smell of popcorn and fried dough. We stand near the gazebo, on the south side of the square. Music is playing, yes, I remember a vivid instrumental by the Springvale American Legion, a patriotic tune with big crashes of cymbals and rattling tom-toms.

“Fireworks are going off. Small at first; electric greens, sizzling reds and blues. It’s building into a brilliant finale that will light up the entire square. I’m standing there and wishing I had someone special to share it all with. Someone I could confide in and trust. Someone who would share a kiss with me, just like this.”

I felt William’s lips press into mine. A giant spark crackled, and the next thing I knew, I was hot, it was very humid, and there were loud explosions above my head. I could feel grass under my feet. A fly buzzed next to my ear.

When we pulled away from each other, I took a peek around to see that I was, indeed, in Springvale in the town square with a scalloped bow hanging from the gazebo in red, white and blue. Children ran past with sparklers waving in their hands. Their laughter surrounded us.

I reached for William. “Clever of you to make it the Fourth of July, with the fireworks and all. Just like you to throw in that little effect.”

He pulled away from me with a strange expression twisting and contorting every line of his face.

“What is it, William?”

His voice came out sounding like a wounded animal. A wounded, bewildered animal. “Who are you? Why did you kiss me?”

“What do you mean?” I asked. “You kissed me, so we could get here.” His face remained a picture of confusion, so I said, “William, why are you staring at me like that?”

“Do I know you?” he whispered, wiping his lips in hesitance.

I searched his face, taken aback by the untimely joking mood he was in, then remembering the rings hurriedly dug inside my pocket book. They rolled into my palm with a ting of gold clashing against gold. When I reached out to hand him his plain band, he jerked away. I stepped closer. He jerked away again. “Why are you doing that?” I asked.

“And I’ll ask you again, why did you kiss me?”

I took a deep breath. A horrible, horrible realization entered my skull. But it couldn’t be. The eyes staring into mine told me, however, it was true. “Oh my God, William,” I whispered, cold spreading through my entire body, “you’ve forgotten me, haven’t you? Something went wrong, and you don’t remember.”

He eyed me with a suspicious scowl. “You sound crazy, honey. Really crazy. You must have jumped out of those bushes over there and laid one on me for a joke or something.” He glanced around. “Who put you up to it? Where’s your friends—the ones behind it all? I’m like to chew somebody’s ass out for a stupid prank like this.”

Okay, so he wasn’t joking and he couldn’t remember me now, but he would remember in a few seconds, or hopefully, minutes. A delay of some sort? Yes. Like mail delivered to the wrong address. No problem. However long it took, I would wait. The modern day William had somehow become lost inside this James Dean and would eventually rise to the surface. At least, I hoped so. Meeting a set of sharp, frost-blue eyes, I wasn’t sure the William I knew was in there at all.

“Are you listening to me, sugar? Who put you up to this?”

I smiled, stalling. William never, ever, called me honey or sugar. But this William did. This young, cocky—God, was he cocky—boy in faded blue jeans, did. He also had a naughty glint in his eye. It made me blush in places the world couldn’t, and shouldn’t, see.

“Hold on a minute,” I said, pretending to search for something in my handbag. What should I do to spark his memory? My girdle stared at me and I groaned under my breath. A pile of elastic would do nothing to prod his memory. I needed something of mine. Something I’d bought and worn and wasn’t from a vintage store. Words were all I had. “Nineteen-eighty, Penn Peak, Colorado, two-story yellow Victorian. Any of it sound familiar?”

He gave me another one of his empty scowls before walking over to grab a leather jacket someone had draped across one of the gazebo’s railings. As he tried it on, I continued to list things off.

“TRS-80, Camaro, Betty Jacomber.” I wanted to spit when saying her name, but if it helped, I’d cut her a little slack from now on. “Dammit, Will. Can’t you remember anything?” I squeezed my fist around his ring.

“Stop saying my name like we’ve met.” Blue eyes scanned my body. “Are you new around here?”

I nodded. “Yes, that’s right. I’m new.”

“Well, that makes sense, then,” he said. “I guess I shouldn’t have gotten so mad at you for kissing me, I just thought maybe someone put you up to it. Jesus, I thought I was losing my mind for a second.” He grabbed my arm and swung me close. I could smell the bitter odor of whiskey and cigarettes. “Shoot, what the hell was I complaining for? It ain’t every day a guy gets a little fox like you to lock their lips on.”

Maybe I’d lost my mind. It was me, not him. I was the one who’d gone crazy, because the William I knew would never do or say anything so rude. He was the ultimate gentleman, so worried about treating a woman correctly. How many times had he tried to hold my chair out for me at home or in restaurants, and I’d refused? Held open doors, chauffeured me around?

Hand to temple, I broke away and slumped down onto the gazebo’s steps. “I think I need a minute to think.”

A second later, a half-filled pint of whiskey waved around in my face. “This what you need?”

I nudged it away. “Uh, no. No, thank you. And I believe it and the jacket you took it from belong to someone else.” My words were met with a shrug.

“Finders, keepers.” William twisted off the bottle’s metal cap, sniffed, and took a good, long swig. The kind that would rip any gentleman’s stomach into a pile of ribbons. “What’s your name, sugar?”

“Emma . . . Shay.” The name had no effect. He didn’t remember a thing—not a damn thing. I stared at the whiskey and wished I wasn’t pregnant so I could take the sip he’d offered. Maybe it would set things straight again. Why hadn’t William told me he used to be like this? Was he afraid I’d love him less?

Then it dawned on me—all the things I’d listed to jog his memory were things I might never see again. I might never see
William
again. The one who knew me, loved me.

A booted foot nudged my calf. “Your words dry up all of a sudden? What’s wrong with you, girl?”

After a long moment, I gazed up at a rebel with mounds of greasy hair and smarmy face, and said, “I’m lost. Hopelessly, ridiculously lost. That’s what’s wrong. And I don’t have the faintest idea how to get home.”

Chapter 8

He claimed a spot next to me on the gazebo steps and put down the whiskey, only to produce a packet of cigarettes from a side pocket of the jacket. He lit up, took a slow drag and then rested back on his elbows. “Well now, you got yourself in a real predicament there, girlie. I see your bags, so I figure you must be telling the truth.”

I saw William’s briefcase and walked a few feet to grab it, along with my bag. I reclaimed my seat on the steps, clutching them to my middle like life rafts.

I watched him smoke a few minutes. He was rough with it, salty, taking the filter and sucking hard before shooting out the smoke with a quick exhalation.

“You never told me you used to smoke. You never told me about any of this.”

William threw the spent butt like a rocket so it arched in the air, only to hit grass and fade slowly to death. “Now, why on earth do you keep saying things like that, like you know me or something?”

“Because I do know you, but
you
don’t know
you
yet.”

“Is that a trick question?”

I laughed bitterly and shrugged.

The fireworks stopped, and the crowd began to dissipate into the dark recesses of Springvale. They were all headed home, even the American Legion with their brass instruments; they shuffled down the gazebo steps past where we sat. I scooted closer to William to allow them more room.

He peered down at me when our shoulders touched. I searched those blue irises for a long moment in the hopes I could find the William I knew inside their depths. His eyebrows rose to a haughty angle. “Whaty’re lookin’ at me like that for? You want another kiss? All right then, you asked for it.”

Before I could say anything, his lips crushed down onto mine, so hard, so fierce I felt actual pain. He gripped at my arms, pulled me so close I became one with his whiskey and cigarettes and leather. I tasted blood as he continued to mesh my lips with his in a manner I’d never experienced before. William had always been a good kisser, but this . . . this was . . .

He let go, shoving hard so my head knocked into the wooden railing. “There’s your kiss—the only part of me you’ll ever get. I’m leaving this town and nobody, especially not some ridiculous little girl, will keep me here.”

He waited for me to say something, but all I could do was rub at the burgeoning lump on the back of my skull. My tongue tasted blood. “You’re . . . horrible.”

He snorted and stood up to leave. Quick, I reached to pull him back. “You can’t go,” I said.

“Like hell I can’t.”

I pulled harder and he almost fell on top of me, maybe on purpose, because he still had a stupid smile on his face. Next thing I knew, he’d grabbed my bag and was sorting through the contents. “Let’s see what you got in here, sugar.”

He laughed when I reached for it—held it out of arm’s length. “Magazines, lipstick, a bunch of hair goo, and what’s this?” He pulled out the girdle. A slow whistle passed through his pursed lips. “Fancy.” Then he saw all the money. The whistling stopped. “Oh, now I get it.” He closed the bag and shoved it at me, right in the gut.

“Get what?” I asked.

“You don’t have to tell me anything. I understand exactly who you are now. Or rather, what you are.”

My mouth fell open. The train of thought he was eluding to caused a much bigger pain than any of his previous offenses. He was saying I was a . . . a . . . whore.

Instinctively I slapped him across the cheek.

His smile left, but for only a second. He observed me from head to ankles. “A girl like you, right here in Springvale. And she’s got her sights set on me.” He tugged on a strand of loose hair from my carefully executed chignon. “Well, I ain’t buying. No matter how good-looking you is.” He yanked hard on the strand, then let go. “See ya around.” Then he walked away with quick and angry steps.

I clutched at one of the gazebo’s carved posts and rose to my feet. My breath locked inside a vault of disbelief as I watched my very life walk away from me. I was angry at William for never telling me about his young self. But mostly I was mad at myself, because if I hadn’t pulled away so much, it would have all been there for me to see.

And what was it he’d tried to tell me in the library earlier—that important bit of information I hadn’t wanted to hear?

Words formed inside my brain: “
Files have a funny way of getting lost. I’m worried that time can’t remember everything.”
And then I remembered the word “
malfunction,”
and how I had refused to listen.

I let out a curse, kicking at the railing. But there was no use in swearing, no use in kicking.

Chin raised, I watched his figure disappear past the western corner of the post office into a dark alleyway. A girl joined him, running from a group of friends to his side. He put a protective arm around her shoulders, and the sight of it made me horribly jealous. When she tilted her face to look up into his, I could see the girl was only his sister Cathy—the one I’d seen killed by the cult in a vision of William’s. My breath flew out in relief.

I was in their world. A stranger.

I hated Springvale. I loved Springvale. For over a year, the town had flittered behind my eyelids like a film transposed into every corner of my brain. I took a deep breath and smelled her summer sweetness, the same as I remembered. Crickets chattered in nearby bushes as I picked up my bag.

No! I would not let myself love this place. Not after what the cult had done to me. I’d despise it every second I carried out the mission, and get the hell out the very second I found a way to do so.

But first . . . I’d need a place to stay.

I heard a familiar voice behind me—someone speaking about the weather. I turned to see, and found myself facing another person now dead and gone forever.

Grandmother Carrie. I held back a small cry.

Arm in arm with Grandpa Jack, she emerged from behind a booth and was about to pass by without a glance. When they came near, I stepped to the side. I kept staring at her beautiful face, one much younger than I’d ever seen. She must have been in her mid-forties, but you couldn’t tell. Barely a line was there to mar the surface of her olive skin, though her jowls had begun to sag a little.

“Hello,” I managed, still staring.

“Hello,” Grandmother Carrie returned. She glanced up at Grandpa Jack in question, and he gave me a good inspection from behind a pair of wire-rimmed glasses.

Searching Grandpa Jack again, Gran hesitated a second before speaking. “Do you go to school with Pauline?”

I shook my head no.

“Are you a member of our church?”

Again, I shook my head.

“Well,” she said, sounding a bit defeated, “I’m embarrassed to say this, but I can’t quite place you. May I ask your name, dear?”

“It’s Emma. Emma Shay.” My maiden name. She’d remember, right? She had the gift; it must have told her I was coming, and who I was, and why I appeared so confused. But with the blank expression deepening her chocolate eyes, it became apparent ‘the gift’ wasn’t in effect yet. She hadn’t developed it. Still no help from the heavens.

Thinking on my feet, I quickly made up a story about how I was some long lost relative who’d stopped into town. “Didn’t Aunt”—what was the name of the second aunt I’d never seen because Mom hated her guts?—“
Ruby
call you to tell you I’d be coming?”

“Why no, she didn’t.” Gran waited for Grandpa Jack to say something. After letting out a great breath of air, he mumbled that Aunt Ruby was crazy and it figured.

“And you are Ruby’s . . . ?”

“Daughter.” She did have one, didn’t she?

“Daughter,” she repeated.

With raised brow, Grandpa Jack said he’d better go get the car.

“I hate to impose on you,” I said, walking closer. We made our way through a group of people, teenagers smoking and being rough with too much horseplay. Gran stared at them and then at me. This time there was a small hint of recognition in her eyes, leaving me with a spark of hope.

“You do resemble Ruby,” she said. “In the eyes. She’s awfully young to have a daughter your age, but, well, I shouldn’t judge.” She clicked her tongue, thinking. “Oh, I’m sorry. Forgive me for sounding rude. I suppose you could stay with us. It’s short notice, but . . . family
is
family.”

Oh, thank God! A bed to sleep in and Grandmother Carrie
alive
. It made tears prickle behind my eyes, but I told myself not to cry. Not now. I’d cry later, but not now.

“I can pay you.” I wouldn’t ask for a speck of food. I only wanted to be near her.

“Oh, no, no, dear. That won’t be necessary. Put your money away.” She peered down into my open bag and saw the pile of bills inside. A strange expression crossed her face. We began to walk again, heading for the street. “Do tell me, what brings you our way? Is everything all right at home?”

“Everything’s fine,” I said. “Ru—Mother, well, she got remarried, and I decided it was time to hit the road. Travel a bit, so she and her new husband could be together without me hanging around.” And William thought
he
was the writer of the family.

“Remarried?” she asked, softly. “I wish she’d return my letters. I knew none of this.”

“Yeah, well.” I sighed. My bag was getting extremely heavy and the heat, even at night, was so unbearable I wanted to rip my clothes off. I’d forgotten how hot it was in Springvale in the summertime. I’d give anything for a huge snowdrift to jump into. “Hope you don’t mind,” I said, stopping to remove the pumps. “But I hate wearing these.”

A mint green Chevrolet with silver chrome pulled up. Grandpa Jack leaned out the window and told us to get in. When Gran cleared her throat, he grumbled something and left the car to take my bag. Then he opened the trunk and threw it inside. When he opened the door to the backseat, I saw a girl about my age. She smiled at me. Her honey hair was coifed into a smooth flip, and she wore a smart green dress and little yellow flats. I hesitated for a moment.

“Oh, Emma, this is our daughter, your cousin, Pauline,” Grandmother Carrie explained, getting into the front seat next to Grandpa Jack. She added, “You’ll have to room with her. I hope that’s all right.”

All the gears in my plan went kerplunk. It was my mother—my
mother
in the backseat of the Chevy. I couldn’t get in the car with her, much less share a room. Not after what she’d done. She’d betrayed and abandoned me, then watched me die.

Mother,
Pauline,
scooted over to welcome me in. The car rolled forward. “Maybe you know something about fashion,” she said. “I’ve been dying to learn some of the new styles. They don’t understand anything about stuff like that here in stupid old Springvale.” Pauline pulled a leg to her chest in a carefree style. “We’re going to have the best time!”

I eyed the front seat in misery, but only received a set of happy stares. I turned to the window and glared through the thick, spotted glass. Springvale flew by in dark rushes of leaves and grass.

This isn’t what I came here for.

I closed my eyes and let out a long breath. This was my fault, completely.

Once more I heard William’s words echo through my head, wisdom I shouldn’t have been so hasty to reject:
Malfunction.