by Nora Roberts
She couldn’t fight him like this. Not when the fog had rolled in over her brain and her body was sinking in some thick, syrupy darkness. Her breath shook as she tried to say his name. He covered her trembling lips with his own. Patient, so patient, as hers warmed and moved beneath his.
Time, he thought as he slowly deepened the kiss. They would take all they needed. And when the time had ended she would know that he would never love again as he had loved her.
He undressed her. Though his fingers shook from the pull of his own emotions, they didn’t hurry. Button by button he loosened her shirt, pressing his lips lightly to each new opening. Softly, sweetly, he trailed his fingers over her flesh, parting the material.
There was no greed now, only an aching, bittersweet tenderness.
Surrendering, she eased his sweater up over his shoulders so that she could feel the warmth of his skin against hers. If she only had today, she would forget all the yesterdays, all the tomorrows. As his mouth met hers again, it was as though it were the first time they had kissed. The first time they had loved.
This she would remember. The heady flavor of his lips, those quiet, lovely words he spoke against her mouth. Not promises. There could be no promises. But there was the depthless green of his eyes to drown in. There was the impossible gentleness of his hands to be lost in.
He slipped her jeans over her hips, following the route with his mouth, down her thigh, over her knee and her calf. In the dim, silent room, there was no day or night. And a heart so filled with love could not break.
She enchanted him, until he believed they would always be here together, alone, with only the soft sigh of the bed shifting, yielding beneath the pressure of their bodies. Alone, with only the soothing stroke of her fingers over his skin. With only her drifting, tenuous scent swimming in his brain.
And the love he felt pulsed through his blood, seeped into his bones, until he knew he would never be free of it. There was joy in that. She would be with him, despite all distances.
He slipped into her with a yearning that was deep. She enfolded him with an unquestioning generosity. As they moved together, time stood beautifully still.
***
She woke, blinking in the darkness and afraid. Beside her, the bed was cool. He was gone. Panic snatched at her throat and had her rearing up. She bit back the cry and steadied herself.
He wasn’t gone—or at least he hadn’t gone far, for she was still on the ship, in his bed. With her heart pounding, she lay back and tried to think.
The way he had loved her had been so sweet, so kind, so patient. And so much like goodbye. She couldn’t cry again, Sunny promised herself as she squeezed back tears. Crying solved nothing. If she loved him, and she did, the only thing she could do for him was to be strong.
She dressed in the dark, then went to look for him.
The ship confused her. There was another cabin, smaller than Jacob’s but painted in the same pale blues. She passed through another area she assumed was the galley only because there was an empty carton of some sort of drink on a smooth, narrow counter and a metal door built into the wall that after a critical study she decided was some sort of oven.
She found him on the flight deck, sitting at the command console. His wore only his jeans. The viewing screen showed a panorama of forest and the shadow of distant ridges. He was staring through it as he spoke to the computer.
“Set coordinates for 1500 hours.”
Affirmative.
“Preferred destination as close as possible to original departure data, time and position.”
Understood.
“Estimate approximate flight time from lift-off to time warp.”
Working . . . Estimate three hours, twenty-two minutes from lift-off to orbit of sun. Is closer calculation desired?
“No.”
“Jacob.”
He spun in his chair, swore under his breath. “Disengage.”
The computer screen went blank.
“I thought you were sleeping.”
“I was.” Accusations, threats, pleas, sprang to her lips. She bit them back. She had promised herself she would be strong. “You’re going back.”
“I have to.” He rose to cross to her. “Sunny, I’ve tried to find another way. There is none.”
“But—”
“Do you love your parents?”
“Yes, of course.”
“And I love mine.” He took her hand, weighed it in his. “I can’t begin to explain what we went through when we thought Cal was dead. My mother . . . She’s very strong, but when the news came that he was lost, presumed dead, she was ill with grief. Days, weeks.”
“I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “I can only imagine how you must have felt.”
He shook his head. Those days were still difficult to speak of. “And then, when we learned the truth, they both tried to accept. He was alive, and that meant everything. But to know that they would never see him again, never know.” He broke off in frustration. “Maybe they can accept, especially when I explain to them that he’s happy here. When I tell them about the child.”
“What child?”
“Cal’s—Libby’s carrying a child. Didn’t she tell you?”
“No.” Shaken, Sunny pressed a hand to her temple. “Everything was so confused. And I . . . Libby’s pregnant.” With a little laugh, she dropped her hand “How about that? We’re going to have a niece or nephew.” It seemed right, only right, that when her world was at its darkest there should be that tiny glimmer of life, and of hope, in the future.
Yet it was that same future she was losing him to.
“Having a baby only takes nine months,” she began, trying to sound casual. “I don’t suppose you’d consider hanging around to see whether we should buy blue or pink balloons.”
It was so easy to see beyond her smile, into her eyes, where the sadness hovered. “I can’t take a chance on leaving the ship here so long—and I’ve already overstayed my projected equations. Sunny, my parents have a right, a need, to know about Cal’s life, about the child. Their grandchild.”
“Of course.”
“If I could stay . . . There’s nothing there that means as much to me as what I’ve found with you. You have to believe that.”
She struggled to remain calm while her world silently fell apart. “I believe that you love me.”
“I do. But if I don’t go back, if I don’t give them that much, I could never live with myself.”
She turned away, because she understood too well. “Once, when I was nine or ten, I wandered off. We were at the cabin for the summer and I wanted to explore. I thought I knew the forest so well. But I got lost. I spent a night under a tree. When Mom and Dad found me the next afternoon they were frantic. I’ve never seen my father cry, not like that.”
“Then you know why I can’t just turn my back on them.”
“Yes, of course.” She managed to smile as she faced him. “I’m sorry I caused such a scene before.”
“Don’t.”
“No, really, I am. I didn’t have any right to say the things I said.” But, try as she might, she couldn’t apologize for decking him. “I can’t begin to understand what it must have been like for you all these weeks. Trying to fit in and bide your time until Cal came back.”
“It wasn’t so hard. I had you.”
“Yes.” She lifted a hand to his cheek, let it fall away. “I’m glad you did. I want you to know that.”
“Sunny—”
“So when do you go?” Deliberately she moved out of reach. If he touched her, however gently, she might shatter.
“Tomorrow.”
She had to lock her knees to keep them from buckling. “So soon?”
“I thought it best, for everyone.”
She wondered that her smile didn’t crack her face. “I’m sure you’re right. But you’ll want to spend a little more time with Cal. You’ve come a long way.”
“I’ll talk to him in the morning. And to Libby,
” he added. “I want to set things right with her.”
Now the smile came more easily. “They’re good for each other. You see that, don’t you?”
“I’d have to be blind not to.”
“Science and logic aside, sometimes emotions are the most accurate equations.” Feeling stronger, she held out her hand. “I’d like to stay the night, here with you.”
He brought her close, struggling not to crush her against him. “I’ll come back.” When she shook her head, he pulled her away. The passion was in his eyes again, and the anger. “I will. I swear it. I need a little more time, to test. I managed to work it out this far in only two years. With another two, I can make it smoother, until it’s as basic as a shuttle to Mars.”
“A shuttle to Mars,” she repeated.
“Just trust me,” he told her, drawing her back. “When I work it all out we’ll have more time together.”
“More time,” she murmured, and shut her eyes.
Chapter 12
She left before he awakened. It seemed the best way. She hadn’t slept at all. She had lain awake during the night trying to find the best way.
He had put music on, something dreamy and beautiful by a composer she hadn’t heard of. Because he had yet to be born. He had adjusted the lights so that the cabin had been washed with simulated moonbeams.
To add romance. She understood that now, loved him for it. He had wanted to give her everything it was possible for him to give her on that last night. And he had given her everything but what she wanted most. A future.
It occurred to her as she thought over the twist her life had taken that up until this point all her decisions had been black-and-white. A choice was either right or wrong. But this time, this most important time, there were dozens of shades in between.
She drove back to the cabin slowly. How could she have said goodbye again? Some pains could not be endured a second time. Sunny could only hope he would understand what she was doing. She hoped she understood it.
She parked in back of the cabin and sat for a little while, studying the way the glaze of ice on the tree limbs glittered in the morning sun. Listening to the sound, the sound of almost perfect silence. Tasting the hint of coming snow in the air.
Slowly, fighting back the grief, she walked to the cabin and entered the kitchen quietly.
Libby had left a light in the window. The sight of the old kerosene lamp burning dully in the morning light brought the hateful tears to her eyes again. She swallowed them, then sat at the table to run her fingers over the wood as Jacob had only weeks before.
“You’re up early.”
Sunny lifted her eyes and met her sister’s. “Hi.” Her lips curved. “Mom.”
Instinctively Libby laid a hand on her stomach. “Jacob told you. I wanted to.”
“Great news is great news whatever the source.” She rose to gather her sister close. There was joy here, and she clung to it. “No morning sickness?”
“No. I’ve never felt better.”
“Cal better be spoiling you.”
“Rotten.” Libby drew back to brush at Sunny’s fringe of bangs. Her sister’s eyes were shadowed and sad. “How are you?”
“I’m okay.” Because her legs felt unsteady again, she turned back to sit at the table. “I’m sorry I ran out the way I did.”
“That doesn’t matter.” Libby was dressed in a baggy sweater and cords, her favored outfit for the mountains. Studying her, Sunny thought her sister had never been, more beautiful. She wondered if she would ever carry a child, feel that love growing inside her.
“I flattened him.”
“Good,” Libby said, with a nod of approval. Movements automatic, she filled the teakettle with water, then set it on the burner. “Want some breakfast?”
“Later, maybe.”
“Sunny, I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be.” Sunny reached behind her to close a hand over the one Libby had laid on her shoulder. “Really, it’s all right.”
“You really love him.”
“Yes, I love him.”
Wishing she could find a way to grant her sister the happiness she felt herself, Libby rested a cheek on Sunny’s hair. “Cal says J.T.’s planning to do some more work on the equations for the time travel. To hone it down, to make it safer, and more practical, if that word can apply.”
“Yes, he told me.”
“He’s brilliant, Sunny. Really brilliant. It’s not just Cal’s bragging. I read the rest of his file. And the fact that he was able to make this trip after only two years of work is proof of it. Once he finishes his testing, he’ll come back.”
“I hope he can.” She closed her eyes. “I really hope he can.” Then, with a laugh, she buried her face in her hands. “Listen to us. We’re here talking about all of this as if it were the most natural thing in the world. I must still be in shock.”
“After more than a year, I still wake up some mornings wondering if I imagined it all.”
“But you have Cal,” Sunny murmured, letting her hands fall into her lap. “He’s right there to prove it’s real.”
“Sunny, if I—” She broke off when Cal walked into the room. She lifted her shoulders, let them fall. “Is there anything I can do?”
“No. I’m handling it, I promise you that.”
“I’m going to get some fresh air,” Libby announced. “Cal, take care of the tea, will you?”
A look passed between them. “Sure.”
Sunny knew them both well enough to understand that they’d planned this little bit of business so that Cal could speak to her alone.
“What do you want?” he asked when Libby had shut the door behind her. “Froot Loops or burnt toast?”
“J.T. fixed the toaster.”
“Oh yeah?” He gave it a casual glance. “He’s always liked to fiddle with things.” The kettle began to boil, giving him another moment to think through what he wanted to say. “Sunny . . . I think we’ll get snow before nightfall.”
“Cal, why don’t you relax? As tempting as it was, I didn’t murder him.”
“I wasn’t worried about that.” He poured hot water into two cups. “Not too much, anyway. It’s more a matter of wanting to explain.”
“That your brother’s a jerk? I know that.”
“He’s also sensitive.”
She could still be amused. That was a relief. “Are we talking about the same man? Hornblower, Jacob? Astrophysicist? The one with the bull head and the nasty temper?”
An apt description, he thought. “Yeah. I don’t mean like he cries at vid—movies,” he remembered. “Or that he takes it to heart when you call him names. He’s sensitive where other people are concerned. Family.” Not certain he was handling the situation correctly, he brought the tea to the table. “Half the time when he’d get into fights it was because someone had said something about me. It used to annoy me, because I wanted to take care of it myself, but he’d always plow right in before I had the chance. And my parents . . . I can’t think of a single time he’d forget a birthday or Mother’s Day.”
“They still have Mother’s Day?”
“Sure.”
“Cal.” Absently she stirred sugar into her tea. “How did you decide to stay?”
“I didn’t decide,” he told her. “What I mean is, I don’t think decide is the word. It implies choice. I couldn’t leave Libby. I tried. But I’ve never stopped thinking about my family.”
“Whether you consider you had a choice or not, it had to be difficult.”
“For me it was pretty cut-and-dried. I couldn’t even be sure if I’d make it back. I sent the ship and the reports because if there was a chance I could let them know I was alive, safe, I had to.” He laid a hand over hers. “With J.T., it’s different. He knows he can make it back, and if he didn’t go he’d be leaving them without hope. He couldn’t do that.”
“No, he couldn’t do that.” She lifted her head. “It’s been hard for you.”
“This has been t
he best year of my life.”
“But the adjustments, the separation . . .”
“If I’d been tossed back another five hundred years it wouldn’t have mattered. As long as I’d found Libby.”
“She’s lucky to have you.”
“I like to think so.” He grinned, then sobered. “He loves you, Sunny.”
Something flickered in her eyes before she lowered them. “Did he tell you that?”
“Yes, but he didn’t have to. I saw it the first time he said your name. I guess what I wanted to tell you was that he’s never felt about anyone the way he feels about you.”
“Will you help me, Cal? I left before he woke up.” She pressed her lips together to keep them from trembling. “I can’t say goodbye.”
***
Libby stood by the stream watching the water fight its way around the ice. In her mind she saw it as it had been in the spring, when the water had gurgled lazily over the rocks and the song of birds had been everywhere. The grass had been soft and green.
It was there that she and Cal had buried the time capsule. And there they had made love, while her heart had broken at the picture of him unearthing it again in some springtime hundreds of years ahead.
Instead, he had stayed, and it was his brother who had taken out the box they had placed there. Now it was her sister’s heart that was breaking.
Whatever comfort she offered Sunny wouldn’t be enough.
It seemed wrong that she should have everything while Sunny lost. She had Cal, and the home they loved, the life they were building. She had the child. With a soft smile, she pressed a hand to her stomach. The child who would come at summer’s end and bind them even closer together.
Sunny would have only memories, and there was nothing Libby could do about it.
She turned her head slightly and saw Jacob.
He was only a few feet away. She hadn’t heard his approach in the muffling snow. In the shadows cast by the trees she saw how much he resembled Cal. The same build, the same coloring, the same sharp facial bones. There was a measuring look in his eyes that made her wonder how long he had been standing and watching her in silence.