Timeless (19 page)

When they returned to the Walker Mansion, Philip led her into the music room. He lit a few candles and then gestured for Michele to sit beside him at the piano bench. “Can I hear your lyrics now?”

Michele let out a nervous laugh. “I don’t know. I’ve never shown my writing to anyone but my mom …”

“Please? I want to hear your words.” Philip took her hand and laced his fingers between hers.

“Oh … all right.” Staring at the floor, her cheeks flushing red, Michele recited her lyrics for him.
He’s going to think I’m totally obsessed with him
, she thought in embarrassment. When she had finished, she kept her eyes focused on the ground, until he lifted her chin with his hand, forcing her to meet his eyes.

“That’s just how I feel too,” he whispered. “But you’re the only one with the talent to put it into words.”

As he kissed her, Michele thought she might burst from the thrill she felt. When they finally managed to break away from the kiss, both smiling and flushed, Michele said, “So do you think you can put music to it?”

He grinned at her as he placed his hands artfully on the keys. “Let’s see, shall we?” And he began to play, experimenting with different melodies until he found one that seemed to perfectly fit “Bring the Colors Back”: a bluesy, soulful midtempo tune in a minor key. The melody and feel of Philip’s composition reminded Michele almost of Ray Charles, and though he played it from a 1910 point of view, she could easily imagine hearing it in her own time as a contemporary song. Michele listened dreamily, humming along.

Suddenly, without warning, the music became faint. Michele looked up sharply to see Philip and the music room fading from view. Philip’s mouth opened in a silent cry. His hand was outstretched toward her, and Michele tried desperately to meet his
grasp. But then he was gone and there was nothing left but the modern, bright kitchen she was standing in.

I’m back in Caissie’s apartment
, she thought dully.
Why did Time have to take me away from that perfect night?
Her eyes quickly scanned the room, but fortunately she was alone. She spotted a window big enough for her to squeeze through and close enough to the ground for a non-treacherous drop. Before opening the window, Michele glanced at the digital clock on the oven. She gasped. It was just before ten-thirty—her curfew.

She held up the skeleton key necklace, looking at it searchingly.
Is someone—or something—controlling my time traveling?
she suddenly wondered. After all, it seemed that she nearly always returned to 2010 against her will. And she had yet to figure out a surefire way to get back to her time on her own.

As she walked back to the Windsor Mansion, she couldn’t stop playing the question over in her mind:
What, or who, is causing all this?
She was desperate for the answer. She had to be sure that she would always be able to get to Philip.

During her U.S. history class the next morning, Michele rested her head on her desk, struggling to stay awake through Mr. Lewis’s lecture. She hadn’t slept a wink the night before, replaying the incredible evening with Philip over and over in her mind. But then Mr. Lewis said something that got her attention.

“As you all know, our field trip to Newport, Rhode Island, is just two weeks away. We’ll be touring the historical mansions that belonged to New York’s finest families, and getting a
firsthand peek at the way of life back then.” His voice was full of enthusiasm. “Per the annual tradition, we’ll be staying at Hotel Viking for the weekend. I’m going to pass out permission slips for you to have your parents fill out today, as well as a form on which you can request the classmate you’d like to share a hotel room with. I’ll do my best to meet everyone’s requests, but I’m afraid some of you will have to make do with your assignments.”

A weekend away with
this
group?
Michele thought desolately. How had she missed the memo about this trip? And she hated to have a whole weekend away from Philip. Without thinking, Michele thrust her hand into the air.

“Yes, Michele?” Mr. Lewis called.

“Um … well, I was just wondering—is the field trip mandatory?” she asked.

The other students gawked at her in surprise, but Caissie grinned at Michele. Clearly she felt the same way about this trip.

Mr. Lewis frowned. “Of course it is. If you remember, it was part of the curriculum I gave you on your first day. Did you have somewhere else you have to be that weekend?”

“No. I was just … wondering.”

When she was handed her roommate-request form, Michele wrote Caissie’s name, crossing her fingers that Caissie would do the same.

At lunch, the topic everyone was buzzing about was not Newport, but the annual Autumn Ball, which had just been announced for the third Saturday in November at the Waldorf-Astoria Hotel.

“At least
that’s
not mandatory,” Michele remarked to Caissie and Aaron as they attacked their burgers.

“Yeah, no kidding,” Caissie agreed. “The last thing I’m in the mood for is watching our classmates compete over who can spend the most money on a dress they’ll wear once and forget about the next day.”

“I say we go to the dance and shock them all by wearing thrift-store clothes and Chuck Taylors,” Aaron suggested, a gleam in his eye. He nudged Caissie. “You down?”

Caissie blushed slightly. “Sure. Why not?”

Michele couldn’t hold back her smile as she watched the two of them. It was obvious they liked each other. She didn’t know why they bothered with the whole Just Friends routine.

“Hey, why does that Ben Archer dude keep looking over here?” Aaron asked.

Caissie grinned. “He
so
wants Michele. He’s always looking at her.”

“Not
always,” Michele said, rolling her eyes.

“Will you go with him if he asks you to the dance?” Caissie asked curiously.

Michele was momentarily thrown by the question. Since Philip, she hadn’t even contemplated the idea of other guys asking her out. It would feel wrong, almost unbearable, to go out with someone else now. “I’d say no,” she replied.

Aaron raised his eyebrows. “Seems like most girls here would be pretty psyched to go out with that dude. He doesn’t do it for you?”

“It’s not that. He’s really cute and nice enough,” Michele said honestly. “It’s just—well, I’m sort of taken.”

Caissie gave her a suspicious look, no doubt remembering the whole Philip Walker time travel conversation. “Oh yeah? By who?”

Michele looked down. “He … lives far away. It’s a long-distance thing.”

“Well, long distance almost never works at our age,” Caissie said, giving Michele a knowing look. “So if Ben or any other cute guys here ask you out, I think you should go for it.”

“Okay, well, let me remind you that no one
has
asked me out here,” Michele said with a laugh. “So how about we change the subject?”

After school, Michele reluctantly brought the Newport permission slip to the drawing room for her grandparents to sign. They were seated beside each other drinking tea, Walter studying the newspaper while Dorothy looked over some correspondence.

“Hi,” Michele said, standing in the doorway.

“Hello, dear.” Dorothy looked up to give her a quick smile before turning back to her letters.

“Come in,” Walter said.

“Um, I have a permission slip that I need you guys to sign. It’s for a weekend field trip in two weeks to Newport, Rhode Island.” Michele handed them the paper.

“Newport …” Dorothy’s voice warmed. “We loved it there.”

“Really? Do you have a house there?” Michele asked, suddenly a little more interested.

“We did,” she answered. “It was one of the most treasured properties the Windsors had. It was built in 1898, but it burned down in the 1970s.”

“I’m sorry. I would have liked to see it,” Michele said sincerely.

“It’s a beautiful town. You’ll like it,” Walter said, giving her one of his rare smiles.

Something occurred to Michele. “Do—do the Walkers have a house there?”

“Yes.
Theirs
didn’t burn down,” he replied, a trace of bitterness in his voice.

Michele’s heart leaped. Maybe, just maybe, she would get to see Philip that weekend after all!

T
he next afternoon, Michele found herself staring contemplatively at Clara’s diary. She wondered how things had turned out between Clara and her new family, if Henrietta and Violet had managed to accept the adoption, or if they had continued their quest to make her miserable. It was strange, but she felt protective of this girl who was really her elder by a hundred years. Would it hurt just to check on her?
Probably not
, Michele thought.
And then I can go see Philip afterward
.

Michele carefully opened the diary to the fourth entry, November 12, 1910, and braced herself for the roller-coaster ride back in time. When she landed on the floor of the bedroom one hundred years earlier, she was surprised to find it
empty. She was used to Clara’s being there to greet her. But then she heard the sound of high-pitched yelling coming from downstairs, and she hurried out of the room to see what was going on.

She stopped dead in her tracks at what she saw two floors below in the Grand Hall. Violet, her face red with fury, was pushing Philip toward the front door as Clara and several members of the household staff looked on in shock. Neither Philip nor Clara looked up to see Michele watching from the third-floor railing.

“You are a despicable, disgusting excuse for a man!” Violet shrieked. “Get out, get out of this house!”

“Violet, please don’t. Don’t make a scene,” Clara begged, clutching her sister’s arm. Violet threw her off.

“You would be
dead
if my father was home,” Violet said menacingly, stalking toward Philip. “But you wait. We will ruin you.”

“Violet, please try to understand—I never intended to hurt you,” Philip pleaded. “I care about you—I have all my life—but we aren’t right for each other in that way. I’m not the one who can make you happy. I’m only trying to save us both from an unhappy marriage—”

“Get out!” Violet cried. “I never want to see you again.”

“I hope you can forgive me one day.” Philip looked at her sadly. “Good bye, Violet.”

Violet stared after him, breathing heavily. Once the front door had closed behind him, she let out a terrible sob, crumpling to her knees. Clara wrapped a protective arm around her. “Please, leave us,” she told the staff.

Michele felt guilt striking at her insides as Violet sobbed on
Clara’s shoulder. She wondered what Clara would think of her if she ever found out that Michele had caused all this.

“Come, you need fresh air,” Clara said gently. “Let’s go outside.” As she led Violet toward the back patio, Michele sensed that Clara was glad to be able to take care of her new sister.

Once the girls were gone, Michele tiptoed down the stairs and hurried out of the mansion. She had to see Philip. She raced through the Windsor Mansion front yard, out the gates, and through the Walkers’ front door, which, fortunately, was unlocked. Once inside, she heard angry voices coming from down the hall. Her heart sinking, Michele followed the voices until she was outside a closed door.