Time After Time (25 page)

"A monk, but it's an understandable mistake." His smooth pink brow wrinkled thoughtfully. "I always wondered about that boy. There was a rumor that he

and Guinevere spent a lot of time playing checkers. And he was so
sensitive.
One word from the queen and he runs off naked and spends a couple of years in the woods eating acorns. Of course, he did manage to produce Galahad. But he was under a spell when that happened, and you can never tell what those idiot witches put in their potions. I knew one—"

When it looked as if he was going to slide into another anecdote from the past, Leah cleared her throat, drawing his attention back to her.

"The point is," he said sternly, "when it comes to love, I can only give advice. Is it my fault that some people are too stubborn to listen to me?"

She bit her lip. She felt ridiculous talking to a figment of her imagination, but there had been truth in the other dreams. Couldn't she find truth in this one as well? It was possible that there was something buried in her own subconscious that could only come out in a dream.

"I'll listen," she said softly. "Can you look into the future? Can you see if Paul will ever open up to me? If I go back and marry him, will he ever come to love me as much as I love him?"

His lips twisted in a strange smile, as though he knew something she didn't and pitied her for her ignorance. "Then what you really want is to diminish his love?"

She studied him, considering his words. "If you're trying to say he loves me, you're crazy." She paused. "And even if he did, he couldn't possibly love me as much as I love him. I would die for him."

"Maybe," he conceded. "But dying's easy. It's over in a few seconds. It's living for someone that's tough. He's willing to do that for you. But you? You're running away. I can only assume that means you don't love him enough."

She shook her head restlessly. He was confusing her. He was twisting the truth and making her sound like a paranoid fool.

"If I thought he really loved me," she whispered tightly, "I would never leave him. But he's closed himself off to human emotions. Why should I let myself be hurt over and over again by a man who only opens up to me in dreams?"

"You want a dream man? I take it you're not a Bette Midler fan."

"What does she have to do with anything?"

"The Rose.
You know, the stuff about the dream

that's afraid of waking up___Oh, never mind," he

said in exasperation. "So you love him, but you're a coward. I don't have time to waste on cowards. You can leave now."

She felt a wave of panic wash over her. She was positive she was close to something, to some kind of revelation. She couldn't wake up without finding out.

"No, wait.. .please. It's not really like that. You see, Paul holds part of himself back. It's his way. I can't expect him to change his character for me. How many times has Dear Abby said, 'Don't go into a marriage expecting your partner to change?' If they don't make the effort when love is fresh and exciting, why would

they bother when it settles down to day-to-day routine? That makes sense. Doesn't it?"

Leah heard the pleading note in her voice. She wanted desperately for him to convince her that she was wrong about the future. She ached to go back to Paul.

"If Dear Abby said it, then it's right," he said firmly. "I trust her implicitly. In fact, I've sent her a few problems that had me stumped, and she always came through for me. But your situation doesn't fit that piece of advice. Paul doesn't need to change. He needs to trust you enough to bring that hidden part of himself out in the open. Have you ever shown him that he can trust you? No, of course you haven't. You've been holding back a part of yourself—your love—and then you whine because he does the same thing."

Leah felt numb with shock. What Merlin said made sense. Paul wasn't as open as he had been in the dreams, but neither was she. She had been so busy thinking of herself, of her insecurities, that she hadn't given a thought to his. Had he sensed that she was holding back and been afraid, just as she had been afraid?

"If only I knew," she murmured, brushing a hand across her face. "I would give anything to know that what you're saying is the truth."

"Okay, give me your firstborn child and I'll show you." When she glanced at him in confusion, he shrugged. "Just trying to lighten things up."

He moved across the open ground and stopped beside her, his eyes gentle as he picked up her hand.

"You hurt so much," he said sadly. "And it's all so unnecessary." Shaking his head, making the little braids swirl, he smiled. "So you want a sign. That's what's wrong with people today. In my day, a magician's word was good enough. Now you all have to have proof."

He guided her toward the small caldron. "Come and look, Leah. Look inside the caldron and you'll have your sign."

She slowly lowered her eyes and looked at the bubbling liquid. "It's—" She frowned. "It's chicken-noodle soup."

"My lunch," he explained. "Just keep looking."

At that moment the pale liquid swirled violently, then settled into a surface as smooth and clear as glass. And there was Paul.

She caught her breath, bending closer. He was in the airport, moving quickly through the people. The tension in his face tore at her. She saw a muscle flicker beside his mouth, and suddenly she could hear his thoughts.

Don't let it be too late. I have to see her. I have to make her understand that this is right. Leah! You can't leave me now. You can't.

Leah felt the blood drain from her face, and she began to tremble. She raised her gaze to the old man beside her. "Is this the truth?" she asked hoarsely. "Is he really in the airport?"

He shrugged. "This is your dream. It's all coming out of your head and your heart. So you tell me, is it the truth?"

She passed a hand across her face in confusion. Then suddenly she knew. "It's the truth," she whispered. "He needs me. He
loves
me. I've got to get to him, Merlin. I've got to wake up now and get off the plane."

He frowned. "We may have a problem. The plane's already under way."

She swayed, then pulled herself up straight. "It can't be. I'll make them turn back. It won't be the same if I catch the next plane back. He would have to hurt too long. I can't let him go through that kind of pain." She clutched the magician's thin hand tightly. "Look, I know you're just a product of my subconscious. But Paul said we don't understand half of what the mind is capable of, so I'm asking you, if there's anything—
anything
—you can do, please help me."

He stared at her, his eyes worried. "I don't know. I'll try, Leah. But don't count on it."

"But I am counting on it," she said, her voice quiet and intense. "I've got to get back to him. I've got to."

"I'm sorry, the flight to San Francisco is taking off now. Is there anything else I can help you with?"

Paul turned away from the counter, the muscles of his face slack. He looked older. He felt older. Moving slowly, he walked to the line of chairs that were bolted to the floor and sat down, staring through the glass wall at the runway.

People moved past him and around him. He knew they were there, but somehow he couldn't feel their reality. As he sat, he let the pain sink in, then began to

analyze it, poking it, testing it. He needed the pain. It was the only proof he had that he still existed. A wavering grayness shadowed the world. He blinked carefully, trying to make it go away, but it hung on stubbornly.

He had told Leah that he didn't believe in fate, but maybe fate had had a hand in his affairs after all. They had just missed connecting nine years ago. Now they had just missed connecting again.

He gave a short, harsh laugh. This was the kind of thing the old Greek gods enjoyed. They would throw in a hurricane or a two-headed monster just to see what the poor mortal who was their victim would so. Or they would give him a glimpse of heaven, then snatch it away to see if he would fall apart.

A man and woman in Universal uniforms stood behind him, talking. After a moment Paul focused on their conversation in an attempt to bring himself out of whatever dimension he had slipped into.

"—every instrument on the plane. Joe said it was the weirdest thing he's ever seen. They were taxiing down the runway, getting into position for the takeoff, when the instruments just went haywire."

"But that doesn't make sense. They were checked less than two hours ago."

"Well, you can bet they're going to get checked again."

Paul leaned back. It hadn't worked. He had heard the words, but they meant nothing.

Suddenly he sat up straighter, frowning. He couldn't believe what he was doing. He was actually

sitting there, accepting that it was over between him and Leah, accepting that this was his only chance with her. All his life he had fought for what he wanted. Now, when it concerned the most important thing in the world, he was going to calmly give up?

Not on your life, he told himself with iron determination. In relief, he felt the blood begin flowing in his veins again. He wouldn't give up. Not now, not ever. He would fight fate and destiny and any army that tried to keep him away from Leah.

But right now he would book a seat on the next flight out, he decided. He rose to his feet and moved toward the desk. Then something caught his eye, and he stopped in his tracks.

Leah was there, not ten feet away from him. His head jerked up, his heart pounding so hard his whole body shook.

As he watched, she turned in his direction. And when she saw him, her face began to glow with a joy so extravagant that it took his breath away. With an abrupt movement she dropped her bag and ran toward him.

Paul took two awkward steps forward and caught her in his arms, clasping her tightly against him. He felt her heart beating wildly, keeping perfect time with his as she shared his triumph. Now he knew that he wouldn't have to fight. Leah was his forever.

Epilogue

Reason becomes the marshal to my will, And leads me to your eyes, where I o'erlook Love's stories, written in love's richest book.

A Midsummer Night's Dream
—Act II, Scene 3

P
aul almost overlooked the small news item. It was only a couple of inches long, and placed in the bottom corner of the page, and it just happened to catch his eye as he turned the pages of the newspaper to get to the area business report. When he read it, he laughed aloud.

"What's so funny?"

He lowered the paper and looked across the breakfast table at his wife. Lately she had taken to wearing her hair pulled to the back of her head in a tight knot. She thought it gave her a more professional, more

businesslike appearance. Paul didn't want to disillusion her, so he didn't tell her that the pale fluff resting on the nape of her neck was so sensual that every man who saw her was tempted to kiss it.

His wife, he thought, smiling. Paul would never get tired of the words. They had been married for almost six months, and he kept waiting for his feelings for her to become a warm, comfortable habit, to become ordinary, but it hadn't happened. Every time he looked at her, he felt happiness explode inside him.

"I love you, Leah," he said, his voice husky.

He could see the reaction in her face: an instant, melting softness. Then, sitting up straighter, she assumed a haughty expression, arching one eyebrow in inquiry. "And you find that funny?"

"No, I find that wonderful, but perfectly natural. How could I not love you?" he asked. "It was a news report that made me laugh. Come and look."

"You could read it to me," she suggested. "Then I wouldn't have to make the long trip around the table. Or you could simply hand me the paper."

"Those are both viable alternatives," he agreed, his face solemn. "But if you come over here to read it, you get to sit in my lap, and I get to do exciting things to your body while you read."

She wiped her mouth with her napkin, then laid it down and stood up. "I see your point."

A few moments later he murmured against her lips, "Aren't you going to read the article?"

Leah outlined his mouth with tip of her tongue. "Is what's in it better than kissing you?"

He chuckled. "No, but it's the official results of the investigation into the instrument malfunction on the Universal flight to San Francisco."

She held his face between her hands, smoothing her thumbs across his cheekbones. Leah loved his face. She never got tired of looking at him. There was so much strength in this face, she thought. It was in his eyes that the vulnerability showed. Green eyes that would burn with passion or glow with a love deeper than any she had ever imagined possible.

Meeting those green eyes, she said, "I love official results. What did they decide?"

"A freak magnetic disturbance."

"That sounds nice and official," she said, nodding slowly. "What do you think?"

He smiled. "Merlin's magic, or magnetism." He shook his head slightly. "I don't understand either one. But I don't care what caused it. The results are what count."

He was right, Leah thought. None of it mattered. The dreams that had caused so much confusion were now only a distant memory. She couldn't even recall them clearly. Loving Paul and having him love her back were reality. It didn't matter how they had found each other; all that mattered was that they had.