Whispers from the Past (28 page)

She’d looked up Thomas Jefferson’s administrations, so that probably narrowed the time frame to 1801-1809. Her clothing searches centered on early nineteenth-century, too.

There were several searches on leg injuries. She’d already admitted that her trip to the State Archives had been about her young friend. We had both heard Dorcas scream, and Jedidiah had told us that Dorcas was permanently lame. Susanna might have tried to discover what kind of injury happened to Dorcas’s leg.

Susanna had also checked for wills, marriage registries, and court dockets. Many of those couldn’t be viewed online, so that could be another explanation for why she’d gone to the State Archives building.

The most recent links confirmed that Susanna was looking up medical questions or details from the early nineteenth century. They included the things that Susanna would need to know to return to the past. And the most likely reason was Dorcas. So I’d start with that assumption and see where it took me.

What was the point of this visit? And why now?

No, “visit” wasn’t the right word. Susanna would not risk so much to visit. Danger lay on the other side of the falls. Susanna had gone back to help.

The whole “don’t change history” thing had seemed strong for her, since she had changed history with Phoebe. Her sister’s life had been altered forever, in ways we didn’t even know, and that had shaken Susanna badly. If she had gone back to see Dorcas, there had to be a compelling problem. Something Susanna couldn’t overlook. It would have to be either something that would leave history alone or something so horrible that Susanna had abandoned a promise to herself and me and time.

The next link gave me goose bumps. It was about tornadoes and how to survive them.

Worthville had had a tornado in 1805. A quick search said that the tornado happened on May fifteenth.

Today was April twenty-second. If Susanna had returned to April of 1805, the tornado would be three weeks away. Why would she go back so early? The probability that she would be captured, jailed, or…lots of other bad things had just rocketed to the heavens.

A wild surge of outrage roared through me. She had promised me that she would never go back, and I’d believed her. I looked away from the computer, furious and having a hard time getting it under control.

Anger wasn’t helping anybody. Several deep breaths later, I put my hands back on the keyboard, captured the browser history into a file, and emailed it to myself. I needed a break from the computer, as I’d be spending the rest of the weekend looking for the proverbial needle in a haystack. Or a great big pitchfork. Or maybe I wouldn’t even be able to tell which.

Next stop, Susanna’s things.

“Marissa?” I called as I walked into Susanna’s bedroom.

“Be right there,” filtered through Marissa’s closed door.

I stood in the center of the room. The bed was made. Carpet vacuumed. Blinds closed. It looked precisely the way it looked every day. I couldn’t fault Marissa for being fooled.

The door opened behind me. “The only things left are in the closet,” she said.

I crossed the room and slid back the door. There were two boxes on the floor, one marked CLOTHING and the other marked STUFF. I smiled at that second word. It had become one of her favorites after she moved here. I lifted its lid.

Susanna’s photo ID, Social Security card, and birth certificate rested on top. Not good. If I’d needed confirmation that she’d disappeared into the past, there it was. I set the lid back in place.

Her boots lay neatly beside the boxes. A stack of towels and sheets waited on shelves. And pushed way back against the far wall was a puffy garment bag.

I pointed. “What’s in that?”

Marissa didn’t even look in. Her face crumpled. “It’s a prom dress.”

“What?” I yanked it closer, unzipped the garment bag, and let it fall to the carpet. The dress looked like something from an old black-and-white movie—a dress for a princess at a ball. It had a full white skirt and a tight bodice with an ice-blue scarf hanging down. “Wow.”

Marissa nodded as she dug her phone from her pocket. “Yeah. You should’ve seen it on her.” She hunted through her photo gallery and then handed it over.

The gown had emphasized Susanna’s curves perfectly, leaving her shoulders and neck bare. The gauzy blue scarf was tied in a bow at her waist. She wore gloves that almost reached the sheer sleeves framing her upper arms. Her smile was shy and beautiful.

I handed the phone back. “That hurts to see,” I said in a gruff voice.

“Yeah.”

I leaned a shoulder against the doorframe, having developed a sudden need for support. “When did she buy it?”

“The day before you broke up.”

The breakup really had been unplanned. “She didn’t want to go to prom.”

“She wanted to please you.”

“Until she didn’t.”

Marissa nodded.

“So, you were with her?”

“Yeah. We made a whole morning of it. We stopped at a vintage clothing store after we—” She gasped, then clamped her lips shut.

“After you did what?”

She tried a casual shrug but failed miserably.

“
Marissa
.”

Sucking in a deep breath, she said, “After she finished at the county health department.”

What did Susanna need from the health department? “Why did she go there?”

“For birth control.”

I frowned at my sister, thinking through her answer, trying to process it. Susanna had gone to get birth control. The day before she broke up with me.

Holy. Shit.

Why hadn’t she told me? I’d deserved to know.

My lungs ached with the effort to breathe. It was too much. I buried my face in my hands, as if that would keep me from coming apart. “Get out, Marissa.”

“Mark—”

“Get. Out.” With hot eyes, I stared at her through my fingers.

She gave a tiny nod and hurried from the room.

Why did Susanna dump me instead of telling me this hugely important step she’d taken? It didn’t make sense. Didn’t I have the right to participate in whatever crazy discussion had gone on in her head? She’d made several major decisions about
us
without involving
me
.

The whole thing made me sick. I was lost without Susanna. Didn’t she know that?

I staggered backwards until I slammed into the closet door and fell to the floor, landing on my hands and knees, panting, dizzy, sad, and overwhelmed. Something soft and gauzy brushed against my cheek.

Shit, no
.

I’d held it together for over five weeks. A blue scarf broke me.

Minutes passed. Then an hour. I lay huddled on the floor in a fetal position. My cheek had pressed to the carpet for so long, it was bound to be imprinted. The smell of Susanna’s clothes—with their summer-fresh dryer-sheet scent—surrounded me. I didn’t want to move. I just wanted to lie here aching and fighting off memories.

My phone started playing Gabrielle’s ring tone. Should I ignore it or not?

I fished the phone out of my pocket. “Hey.”

There was a pause. “Are you okay?”

“No.”

A soft sigh. “Is this about Susanna?”

“Yes.” I rose slowly and leaned against the wall. “This isn’t a good time to talk.”

“Why not?”

I hobbled out of the room and down the hallway. “Just a bad day, Gabrielle.” I entered the great room.

Marissa sat at the table, talking quietly into her phone, her eyes tracking me across the room. I detoured to the balcony.

“She doesn’t want to be found, Mark. You need to let this go.”

What an original idea. Not to mention completely stupid. It didn’t merit a response.

There was a delicate snort on the other end. “Have you gone to the
Teen Trash
website?”

Another completely stupid idea. “Why would I do that?”

“They covered our prom.”

“They covered
your
prom.”

“I sent you a link. Take a look.”

I leaned against the railing as I checked the website on my phone. There were a lot of photos of Gabrielle in her smoking hot dress. Sometimes, there were glimpses of me at her side, doing a good job of playing her dutiful escort. “You looked amazing, Gabrielle. You don’t need
Teen Trash
to tell you that.”

“Have you seen the shot of you alone?”

I scrolled down. Someone had caught me in a quiet moment, standing on the perimeter, gazing out a window, hands jammed in my pockets, a sheer curtain rippling behind me. From the perspective of artistic value, it was the best photo of the bunch.

The caption read, “What makes Mr. Swoonworthy so pensive?”

“Well,” Gabrielle demanded, “what do you think?”

“I think that I’m surprised to see the word ‘pensive’ on the
Teen Trash
site.”

She exhaled. “I’m curious, too. What made you so pensive?”

What was her problem? The answers were obvious. “I’m worried about Susanna.”

“Do you know where she’s gone?”

“I do now.”

“Do you know why?”

“Still working on that one.”

“Are you at home?”

“Nope. Marissa’s.”

“I’ll be there in ten.”

“Wait, no—”

Click. She had already hung up on me. Probably not such a good decision.

She had her time estimation perfect. Ten minutes. A dark SUV rolled into the parking lot, stopped behind my truck, and idled while Gabrielle got out.

I met her at the front door as Marissa watched silently, her phone cradled between her hands.

Gabrielle gave my sister a movie-star-bright smile. “Hi.”

“Hi.” Marissa bobbed her head. “Sorry. Have to go.” She practically ran down the hall. Her bedroom door slammed.

“So?” Gabrielle’s smile had disappeared. “Are you mad that I came over here?”

“I’m not exactly happy about it. Which is why we’re both leaving.” I jerked my head toward the outside.

She walked with me to the truck and waited by the passenger door. I frowned at her as Garrett got out of the SUV.

“He’s not letting you ride with me,” I said.

“Then you go with us.”

I shook my head. “Sorry, Gabrielle, but I don’t have time for this.”

She opened the door to my truck and climbed in.

“Miss Stone?” Garrett frowned, arms crossed, blocking her from shutting the door. “You need to come with me.”

“No.” She stared straight ahead. “I need to be with Mark.”

“Gabrielle?” I slid behind the wheel. “Please ride with Garrett.”

She shook her head.

“If you don’t, I’ll drive you home anyway.”

“Garrett,” she said without looking at him, “you and Prentiss are free to go.”

“You know what this means, Miss Stone. You’re firing me.”

She nodded.

“Gabrielle!” I put a hand on her shoulder, but she shrugged it off.

By the time I’d buckled in, the SUV was gone, and she was biting her lip and staring at her hands as they twisted in her lap.

“Why did you do that?” I asked. It was crazy.

She sniffed. “We need to talk.” Her voice was thick with tears.

“Did you really just fire him?”

“Yes.” She looked at me, her face defiant. “Garrett is elite. He’ll have ten job offers the minute the word gets out.”

“What about you?”

“I’m done with this subject.”

“Okay.” I backed out and then pulled out of the complex and onto the highway.

“Where are we going?”

“Your aunt’s house.”

“That’s fine. It’ll be quiet there. We’ll be able to talk about this thing with Susanna.”

“No, we won’t. I’m not coming in.”

“You’re being a dick.”

“Can’t argue with that.”

She fidgeted on her side of the truck. Fingers tapped on the door. Hips shifted on the seat. “I thought that, when we started dating, you understood we’d be exclusive.”

“We’re a
couple
, Gabrielle, and we are exclusive.”

“It doesn’t feel like it.”

“I am going out with you. No one else.”

“Then how do you explain the third person in our relationship?”

“I won’t even try.” I shook my head grimly as I braked at a traffic light. “When you set down the terms for being a couple, you knew we’d be different in a lot of ways.”

“You promised not to cheat on me.” Her voice sounded childlike.

“I haven’t cheated on you.”

“I don’t mean just physically.”

“Well, I do.” I turned to frown at her. “If you plan to redefine terms in the agreement, you need to check with me first. Let me warn you, though, about Susanna. She is nonnegotiable. I go out with you, and I don’t cheat on you, but she will always be there.”

“You don’t cheat on Susanna, either.”

I faced forward again and gunned the engine when the light changed. Gabrielle remained silent, except for the occasional sniff.

We passed Lucy’s Farmhouse. Isaac’s Mercedes sat in the lot.

Did he know anything? The possibility jolted through me. I took the next U-turn and headed back, parking in the spot next to his SUV.

Gabrielle got out and was already at the restaurant door as I followed her in.

“Are we here for Isaac?”

“Yes,” I mumbled. He’d already spotted us.

His face hardened as he watched us approach. “Susanna quit her job.”