Timeless (24 page)

When they reached Penn Station, Caissie and Michele
caught a cab home together. Michele followed Caissie into her apartment building, her face white as a ghost. Once the girls were in Caissie’s room, Caissie knowingly offered to give Michele some time alone. “I’m going to go … catch up with my dad, fill him in on the trip. I’ll let your grandmother know that you’re spending the night. You know, in case you need to be … there awhile.”

“Thanks.” Michele swallowed hard.

Caissie gave her a warm hug. “Good luck. You’re doing the right thing.”

The second she was alone, Michele pulled Philip’s card out of her bag. She kept it with her all the time. Closing her eyes and holding on tight to her key necklace, she willed Time to return her to him.

In mere moments, Caissie’s room transformed before Michele’s eyes, taking on dozens of different incarnations, until she found herself in Philip’s bedroom. He was sitting at his desk, and he jumped out of his seat when he saw her appear.

“Michele!” He whirled her around and kissed her tenderly. “I’ve missed you.”

Michele kissed him back, and it felt so good that the thought of never kissing him again, never being with him again, brought tears to her eyes. She broke away from him.

“Michele, what’s wrong? Why are you crying?” Philip grasped her hands, looking at her worriedly.

“Philip, I have to tell you something and it’s really … really hard for me.”

Philip let go of her and sank into the nearest chair, possibly fearing the words to come.

“I have to say goodbye,” Michele said, her stomach churning. “I love you, but … I have to stay in my own time, and you in yours.”

The color drained from Philip’s face. “No. You don’t mean that, we can’t do that. We belong together.”

“But we can never actually
be
together,” Michele said, her voice tight with agony. “I can’t fully exist in your time, and you can’t get to mine. And in the end, that will only ruin us.”

Philip just stared at her, shaking his head.

Michele’s tears were now falling freely. “I love you, but I can’t be with you anymore. Please try to understand what I’m about to say. I’ve discovered that … that something is going to happen. I don’t know what or why, but I won’t be able to travel to you anymore, at least not for … for many years. And you’re too good, you have too much life in you to throw it away on waiting for me.” She realized she was babbling through her tears now, but she couldn’t stop. She had to make him understand. “I can’t live with myself knowing that your life ends because of me. I live in the future, so I’ve
seen
how this will go wrong if it continues. I need you to move on. Please … do it for me.”

“But … how will I ever bear it?” Philip asked, his voice breaking.

“How will I?” Michele cried. “All I know is that … even when we’re not together, I’ll still love you and think of you every day. And the one thing that will get me through is knowing that you lived a long and happy life, that you were able to achieve your dreams and touch people with your music. I can’t let our relationship stop you from having the life you were meant to
have. Please promise me that you’ll move on, pursue your music, and not let anything bring you down.”

Philip was silent a long moment, blinking back tears. “I promise,” he finally said, his voice barely above a whisper. “For you.”

As Michele gazed at him, she realized that she was shaking. He wrapped his arms around her, and she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him. He kissed her back with a new urgency, and as their kisses grew more and more heated, he pulled her onto the bed with him. And for a while, in each other’s arms, they managed to forget about goodbyes.

She was asleep in his arms, her head nestled on his shoulder. Even with the terrible knowledge that this was their last night together, she managed to find comfort and peace in being this close to him. And then, without any warning, she wasn’t anymore.

“Michele?”

At Caissie’s voice, Michele blinked and looked up—as 1910 vanished. She was lying on Caissie’s bedroom floor, with no arms holding her. When Michele saw that Philip was really gone, a wave of fresh tears came over her. Caissie helped her up off the floor and comforted Michele as she cried.

“Is there anything I can do to make you feel better?” she offered anxiously. “We can rent a really distracting movie, or …?”

“Thanks,” Michele replied, wiping her eyes. “But I feel so sick—I think I should just go home and go to bed.”

“Okay. You’re going to be all right. I know it.” Caissie gave her a tight hug. “Call me if you need anything.”

On the short walk from Caissie’s apartment to the Windsor Mansion, Michele was unable to stop her tears. She knew she had done the right thing for Philip, but how was she ever going to get through the days, months, and years ahead without him? Their love had saved her after her mom died. What was going to save her now? And now that she had found the kind of real, true love that everyone dreamed about but hardly dared to hope for, how could she ever even contemplate being with someone else?
I can’t
, Michele thought.
There’s no one else I can marry, or even date. Philip was the one. And now I’m condemned to a lifetime of missing him. God, if only Mom were here
.

And suddenly, Michele realized something: these were the exact feelings her mom must have suffered when Henry had disappeared. This was what Marion had lived with every day for nearly seventeen years. The one and only person who could ever understand what Michele was going through was gone too. And now Michele cried for all of them, her parents and Philip. By the time she walked into the mansion, she was a wreck.

Dorothy was in the Grand Hall talking to Annaleigh when Michele walked in, but they both stopped short when they saw her.

“Michele, what happened?” Annaleigh cried.

In an uncharacteristic move, Dorothy ran to Michele and wrapped a protective arm around her. “Annaleigh, I should talk to my granddaughter in private.”

“Of course.” Annaleigh nodded and left the room. When they were alone, Dorothy asked Michele, “What happened,
dear? I thought you were spending the night at Caissie’s. Did you two get in a fight?”

“No,” Michele managed to choke out.

Dorothy was silent a moment and then she said, “Are you missing your mother?”

At this point Michele was crying so hard she couldn’t even speak. Dorothy pulled her into a hug, their first embrace since Michele had arrived. Michele leaned her head on her grandmother’s shoulder as Dorothy stroked her hair, murmuring soothingly.

“Why don’t you change into your most comfortable pajamas and get cozy in bed? I’ll bring you up some chamomile tea,” she said kindly.

Michele nodded and went dazedly up to her room, changed into pajamas, and crawled into bed. Dorothy came in a few moments later with a mug of warm tea for Michele. For a moment Michele was surprised she had shown up. Dorothy had never visited Michele in her room before, and it was out of character for her to be taking care of Michele like this. But now her grandmother was here, tucking her in and stroking her hair until she finally fell asleep.

T
he next morning, Michele woke up feeling like she had been run over by a truck. Her whole body ached, there was a painful lump in her throat, her eyes were swollen, and her stomach was so queasy that she couldn’t imagine eating anytime in the near future.
But if I saved Philip, then it’s worth it
, Michele reminded herself. Desperate to find out if it had worked, she hurried to her desk, ignoring the waves of dizziness she felt upon getting out of bed.

Her hands trembling, she went online and typed
Philip James Walker
into Google. As she frantically scanned the links popping up on the screen, she knew right away that something
was wrong. None of these articles, none of these links had to do with her Philip. None of these
people
were her Philip. And if he had made a name for himself in music … wouldn’t he be among the top searches? And even if not, if he had lived a long and fruitful life, wouldn’t being part of the prominent Walker family garner him a listing on Wikipedia or some other online encyclopedia? But so far, nothing. By the time she had reached page twelve of the search results, Michele buried her head in her hands in defeat. How could she have peace of mind now, not knowing whether she had stopped his tragic end? What had
happened
to him?

Michele jumped out of her desk chair and hurried to her dressing room to throw on some clothes. School was just about the last thing she could handle right now—but she had to talk to Caissie, and it couldn’t wait.

Michele ran to Caissie’s locker before first period, and fortunately, she was alone. Her eyes widened when she saw Michele.

“Oh, God. Are you okay?”

“I need to talk to you,” Michele burst out. “Do you think we can have lunch alone today, somewhere private?”

“Of course.” Caissie peered closely at Michele. “You don’t look like you’re going to be able to eat a bite.… How about this: I’ll scarf down some food during break so we can spend lunch in the library.”

Michele managed a weak smile. “Thanks. I’ll meet you there.”

Her morning classes went by in a mindless blur, her body present but her spirit a hundred years away. At last the bell rang for lunch, and she hurried to the library. She and Caissie found a private table in the back, and the moment they sat down, Michele poured out the whole story, tears welling up in her eyes as she spoke.

“So … what do you think happened?” Michele asked after she had finished.

“I—I honestly don’t know,” Caissie said slowly. “But … I have an idea for how you might be able to find out.”

“What?” Michele asked intently.

“Do you think you can go back to the 1920s, before the time Judy said he—he died? She said it was in 1927, right? If you can get to him sometime before that, then you can find out firsthand if he’s okay, and if he’s not … then you have a chance to try to fix this.”

Michele stared at Caissie. “That is a good idea. Only I don’t have anything like Clara’s diary to send me back to the twenties.”

“Can you go digging around the house after school?” Caissie suggested. “I mean, there’s got to be something there.”

“Wait a minute!” Michele exclaimed as a memory dawned on her. “I do have something. It’s from 1925, though.”

“That’s close enough!” Caissie’s eyes lit up. “Oh, my God. You get to see the Roaring Twenties!”