Tempest

by Julie Cross

  “So … you want to stay here tonight?” I asked, lifting one eyebrow.

  “Sorry, I was just planning ahead. I can go home if you want.” She started to get up, but I pulled her back down next to me.

  “Or … you can stay.”

  “It’s okay?” She rested her palm against my cheek. I only had a second to nod before she kissed me, leaning farther forward, forcing me to lay back.

  My mind went completely blank for a few minutes until I had to pause and take a breath. Holly was lying on top of me, her fingers in my hair, her lips on my neck, and my hand drifting under her dress. That’s when I forced myself to remember that this was 007 Holly. Not the nineteen-year-old girl who was far too responsible to do anything out of impulse. In other words, I could never talk her into something she wasn’t one hundred percent sure about. But 007 Holly … she might be a different story.

  What I did next took way more effort than any of the defense techniques Dad had thrown at me today. I slid her over and stood up from the couch. “I’m gonna get a drink. Do you want something?”

  She sat up and wiggled her dress back down so it was just above her knees. “Water.”

  Dad stood in the kitchen with the refrigerator wide open, surveying the contents. “Having fun?”

  I reached around him and grabbed two bottles of water. “Yeah. Could you do me a favor?”

  “What’s that?”

  I spat out the words reluctantly. “Just find some excuse to walk in on us in about five minutes.”

  Dad pulled out the carton of milk, then closed the fridge. “Why?”

  I groaned to myself. “Because apparently I’ve turned into a morally decent person who feels guilty about going too far with a seventeen-year-old girl.”

  He smiled a little. “But she wasn’t so young when you dated her in 2009?”

  “Exactly. It’s not the same as it was … before … in the future … however you want to look at it.” I started to walk away, then turned quickly. “Maybe ten minutes, okay?”

  He laughed. “Sure.”

  Holly stood in front of the bookshelf, scanning the movie titles, when I returned. She tugged at the straps on her dress and shifted the top into place.

  “Do you want something to change into?” I asked, looking for any excuse to leave the solitude of this room and cover a little more of her skin.

  “I should have brought a bag. I was in such a hurry after work.” She took the water from my hand.

  I nodded toward the door and Holly followed me down the hall. My hand hesitated on the knob before entering Courtney’s room. Holly’s steps were much slower than mine as I walked toward the closet. Dad still hadn’t gotten rid of anything. The room was spotless—no dust, nothing. The cleaning lady came in here every day and vacuumed, shook out the lavender comforter on the bed, picked up the trinkets lying on the dresser and dusted them.

  Holly ran her index finger along the surface of the white vanity. She was tentative, like she might break something, or maybe she felt the impact of staring at a room full of stuff that would never be touched again by its owner.

  I walked into the closet and scanned the racks, took my time searching through Courtney’s clothes. I spotted the pink-and-green tennis shoes she was wearing that first time I talked to her during a jump in 2004, after she turned me into a self-defense lesson.

  When I finally emerged with a pair of sweatpants and a long-sleeve T-shirt, Holly was staring at a card lying on the vanity. There were at least two dozen get-well cards still standing upright. I crept up behind her and glanced over her shoulder. The acid in my stomach churned the second I saw which card she was reading.

  In December of 2008, Dad had finally mustered up the courage to let go of Courtney’s things—something he had needed to do. I came home for winter break and the room was bare. Everything was gone and this card was the one item I was desperate to keep. Not just in the house, but here, in her room. I hadn’t even thought to come looking for it in this year.

  I stared at my own writing, feeling the grief consume me. Not because of the actual words, but because she never got to read them.

  Courtney,

  To my favorite sister who is way cooler than I’ve ever been willing to admit. In fact, I made a list of a few more secrets I’ve been keeping from you. Show this to anyone and I will pull out the naked baby pictures and let them circulate through the school.

  EVERYTHING I’VE NEVER TOLD MY SISTER (well, maybe not everything) By Jackson Meyer

  1. You don’t really smell bad.

  2. I was the one who stuck gum in your hair last year, when you had to get six inches cut off just to get it out.

  3. I lied about showing the picture of you, with your head gear on, to my friends. I only said I did because you told Dad about those movies under my bed (and no, they weren’t mine and I never watched them).

  4. I thought it was nice when you helped Miss Ramsey teach Spanish songs to those little kids at the hospital.

  5. I HATE when guys talk about how “hot” my sister is … but despite what I’ve told you, you’re not ugly.

  6. Even though I always make fun of it, I think it’s kind of sweet that you cry at the end of TITANIC (Every. Single. Time.).

  7. Occasionally, I stay home on the weekends and tell you my friends are busy even if they’re not because I’d rather hang out with my dorky sister.

  8. I’m scared I’ll be different if you’re not here. I won’t be as good.

  9. Sometimes I can’t fall asleep at night because I’m so afraid you’ll be gone when I wake up. Like if I just keep moving, you will too.

  10. I can’t help thinking it should be me and I can’t help thinking … what if you’ve thought the same thing? What if Dad has too? Does everyone look at me and say, “You got lucky” or “Your sister’s the good one”?

  11. My greatest fear is saying … I love you. Even if it’s true. I’m scared to say it because it’s so final. Like good-bye. But I’m not saying good-bye. Not ever.

  Maybe you could just try and stay longer, for me. Because I don’t know if I can be me without you.

  Love always,

  Jackson

  I reached around Holly and picked up the card. She jumped like I had startled her, then wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to read—”

  “It’s okay.” I folded the card and held it between my fingers.

  “What’s going on?”

  Both of us looked up at Dad, standing in the doorway. He smiled just a little. “Holly, take whatever you want from here. I’ve been meaning to donate some of this stuff … I just haven’t … gotten around to it.”

  Holly’s eyes moved from Dad to me. I set the clothes in her arms. “I think these should fit.”

  Her gaze locked with mine. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have been looking—”

  “Don’t worry about it.” I leaned down and kissed the top of her head. She gave me one last fleeting look before taking off down the hall toward the bathroom.

  I started to leave, but Dad plucked the card gently from my hands, then opened it up to read. “I used to look at this every night after you went to sleep,” he said.

  “You did?”

  He nodded. “Do I manage to get rid of anything … in the future?”

  This was one of the first personal questions he’d asked me about 2009. “Yeah, you got rid of everything. Including this card.”

  He smiled and handed it back to me. “Well, now you can keep it.”

  I flipped it over in my hands. “I never gave it to her. I wanted to…”

  Dad’s hand rested on my shoulder. “She knew. I know she did.”

  But I wasn’t nearly as sure as he was. I lifted my eyes to meet his. “I’ve seen her, Dad. I wasn’t going to tell you, but…”

  His face filled with both grief and fascination. “When? I mean … what year?”

  “A few different ones. I talked to her to when she was fourteen and then when she was
twelve. She snuck out of school and we spent the day together.”

  Fuck! I had just contradicted the story I told Chief Marshall and Dad yesterday. The part where I had only jumped two times and only short ventures to the past. Basically, nowhere near the year 2003. I stared at Dad, waiting for his reaction. There was no way to take it back now.

  His mouth hung open, but he managed to close it, then speak. “You talked to her? She knew about—”

  Okay, maybe I’d distracted him with the mention of Courtney. Not likely.

  “I explained everything and she believed me. She freaked out at first, but … then she just accepted it.”

  Dad leaned his head back against the doorframe and closed his eyes. “I miss her so much.”

  “I know.”

  His eyes opened and he held his arm out to stop me from leaving. “It’s not true, Jackson … what you wrote. I don’t wish it was you. I could never choose between the two of you. You know that, right?”

  I patted him on the arm. “I do now.”

  As I walked down the hall back toward the TV room, I couldn’t help thinking that I might have witnessed the greatest cover by any CIA agent … or maybe … just maybe, I had seen my dad truly emerge from the carefully composed agent shell for the first time in years.

  Holly jumped when I opened the door. All I could see was her back as she stood in front of the shelf again, but I didn’t miss the quick, discreet way she wiped her face with the sleeve of Courtney’s shirt. I strode quickly across the room and turned her around to face me. “Hol, I’m not upset with you. I swear.”

  I touched her face with both hands and she closed her eyes and nodded. “I know. It’s just … that was … a really nice letter.”

  I wiped her cheeks with my fingertips, remembering the effect her tears had on me in 2009 after our last big fight. I was so used to 009 Holly’s rock-solid composure … seeing 007 Holly fall apart like that … it just felt like the world was out of whack.

  “I wasn’t trying to make you sad,” I said to Holly.

  She held on to one of my hands and pulled me over to the couch, then stretched out next to me. She touched her mouth to mine and I closed my eyes and sighed. Her body pressed against mine, then she whispered, “I don’t mind hearing your secrets, even if they’re sad.”

  I dove into kissing her again, slipping my hand under the back of her shirt, hoping Dad remembered his promise to walk in on us before I got too lost in the moment. Before I forgot which Holly I was kissing.

  Just as I was moving my mouth along the front of her neck, Dad stumbled into the room. “Sorry, forgot you were in here.”

  As predicted, Holly turned bright red and nodded when I asked if she wanted to watch a movie. She fell asleep with her feet across my lap about fifteen minutes into it. I covered her up with a blanket and left the room. The weight of tonight pressed against my chest and I knew sleep would be difficult without some help.

  I headed straight for the bar. Just as I was pouring a glass of Crown Royal, Dad walked in.

  I stashed the bottle under the counter, but I know he saw. “I was just—”

  He nodded before I even finished. “You can pour me one, too.”

  Silently, I filled another glass. He sank down onto one of the stools and downed his generous portion in one gulp.

  “Dad, can I ask you something?”

  “Sure.”

  I took a long drink of the whiskey, hoping it would give me some confidence. “How did you end up with a kid like me? I mean, considering you happen to work for this secret squad that knows all about freaks of nature like myself.”

  He set his glass down on top of a coaster. “I figured you were going to ask that soon enough.”

  “Was it just a coincidence?”

  Dad shook his head. “You and your sister were my assignment.”

  “An assignment?” I asked.

  “Yes. One that I volunteered for and was very happy to take on indefinitely.”

  “So, you never wanted to have children … like, you didn’t plan for it?”

  “No, not really, but I’m sure you can understand why. With my job, there isn’t any room for a personal life.” He stood up and smiled. “Unless it becomes your work … or they become your work.”

  “What about Agent Edwards?” I called to him as he walked away. “Wasn’t he protecting us or something…?”

  Dad stopped but didn’t turn around. “How do you know Agent Edwards?”

  The change in his tone pushed me to tell the truth. “I saw him … in the past.”

  “You’ve been that far back?”

  In other words, he’s not here anymore.

  “What happened to him?”

  Dad took a couple steps closer. “He was murdered … ten years ago.”

  My stomach dropped. “How?”

  “By others … the EOTs.” He shook his head.

  He walked away before I could ask any more questions. Had he already told me more than he was supposed to? Or had he slipped back into agent double-speak? There was no denying the fact that I wanted to trust my dad. So much so that I might be ignoring signs pointing in the other direction.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  OCTOBER 14, 2007, 5:00 A.M.

  I woke up suddenly, without any trigger other than a bad feeling, or maybe I had been dreaming and didn’t remember what it was about. The recliner nearly tipped over when I shot up, my eyes darting around the room. Holly was still curled up on the couch, right where I’d left her hours ago. I pulled the blanket over her shoulders and walked down the hall to my room.

  Adam was passed out sideways across my bed, probably feeling the beginnings of a hangover after all the champagne he drank during the party. The second I closed my bedroom door and took a few steps down the hall, I heard voices coming from the kitchen.

  “I don’t see why we have any reason to push him.” Dad’s voice.

  I stepped as quietly as possible toward the kitchen. The hall closet door had been left open and I slid into the crack of space behind it.

  “He’s lying to us. What reason would he have to lie if he hasn’t been recruited by the opposition?” That voice belonged to Chief Marshall. It was impossible not to recognize the deep authoritative tone. Had Dad told him about my slipups last night? When I mentioned visiting Courtney several times in a time jump and seeing Agent Edwards. Why wouldn’t he tell Chief Marshall? He told him every other damn thing. “We’ve spent years letting you play the father so he’d trust you, and for what? He didn’t even trust you enough to come to you when he first discovered his abilities.”

  My whole body was completely frozen, waiting to hear if it would get worse.

  “He’s from a different timeline,” Dad said. “You can’t hold me accountable for another timeline or future events.”

  “We are all accountable for future events,” Marshall boomed.

  “It’s possible he’s just scared.” Dr. Melvin’s voice. “Suddenly his world has gone from small and insignificant to something much greater.”

  Why weren’t they concerned I’d be listening in?

  “Your job is to find the glitch and fix it, Melvin,” Marshall snapped. “I will not have this agency wasting time analyzing the poor boy’s feelings. We could be using him by now.”

  Using me? My stomach turned over and over.

  “Wait a minute, Chief,” Dad interjected. “We never agreed on any specific missions.”

  “That’s because all we had to work with was a malfunctioning experiment that Dr. Melvin spent half his life creating. Things are a little different now,” Marshall said.

  Malfunctioning experiment? This was getting worse by the second.

  “Just give him time … if you could have seen how quickly he responded to the planned stimulation,” Dad said. “Today is out of the question.”

  Today? I literally felt sick to my stomach trying to absorb everything they were saying. Then I just couldn’t take it anymore. My feet moved on their own, t
oward the kitchen. The three men were sitting around the table with mugs of coffee when I entered.

  “What experiment?” I asked immediately.

  They all stared at me and finally Dad spoke up. “It’s a confidential project we were discussing. Nothing you need to worry about.”

  Seriously? Did they think I was five years old or just a complete idiot? “Maybe you should take the grown-up talk somewhere else if you don’t want me to listen.”

  “What exactly did you hear?” Marshall asked.

  My hands balled up into fists. “All of it … and someone needs to explain this experiment. Now.”

  Dr. Melvin jumped up from his chair and walked over to me, staring at my eyes like I had a concussion or something. “Do you understand what I’m saying?”

  I glanced over his shoulder at Dad and Marshall. “Is he okay?”

  “He’s fine, but he’s a little surprised that you were able to eavesdrop on our conversation, given the fact that we were all speaking Farsi,” Marshall said.

  “What?” I asked, backing away from Melvin. “Farsi?”

  “It worked in one night! This is incredible,” Dr. Melvin said.

  Marshall lifted his eyebrows in Dad’s direction. “Finally. Millions of dollars spent on Axelle and we may actually be able to benefit from it.”

  Axelle?

  This time I heard the difference in sound. He wasn’t speaking English. My palms were sweaty and I had to wipe them off on the dress pants I still had on from last night. “What the hell did you guys do to me? Some kind of weird brain-frying electromagnetic shit?”

  Dr. Melvin rummaged through a drawer and pulled out a pair of tweezers. He came closer to me, pointing them right at my eye. “Hold still for one second.”

  I froze in my spot and he stuck the tweezers into my ear and pulled out a tiny piece of metal. I stared at it like he had just removed a cockroach from my ear. I felt dirty. Tainted.

  “It plays sound in your ear while you sleep. I programmed it to play foreign language lessons. Nothing but audio copying,” Dr. Melvin said in the calm voice I knew so well from years of childhood memories with this man. “This is just like the picture diagrams you looked at yesterday … the photographic memory … only it’s auditory.”