15 Minutes- The Complete Saga Boxset

by Jill Cooper

  “I’ll do whatever I have to. Until our Lara is cemented in that body, we do whatever we have to. All of us. I can’t say it’s not changing me. I’m not myself when I’m with her, but—what other choice do we have?”

  She was asking me to lie. I didn’t think I could do it, but the conversation was over. Cassidy swivels in her seat back to her computer monitor, and now I have a choice. I can use the bridge to relive the next three days over again, or I can go back to where we are now.

  I don’t want Lara to have to hurt any more than she needs to, so I return to the same day on which I had left. I pray to God that Lara will be all right. I hope one day she’ll come to me and she’ll ask me for the truth.

  God help everyone, I’d give it to her.

  Chapter Fifteen: Lara

  I can barely sleep through the night. I’m restless and whenever I close my eyes, I see Rex’s twisted smile from the other side of the cage where he watched me—where he tortured me with happy memories that I couldn’t have. Part of that life had been so much more comfortable than this.

  Now Rex is coming from me and I don’t know if I can stop him. I don’t know what he’s going to do, and I’m vulnerable and afraid.

  My temples throb as I rise from bed,. My headache hasn’t gone away since I’d had my seizure. I grab the pain medicine on the end table beside my bed and head into the bathroom. The light is too bright, and I flip the switch on the wall to dim the effect. Grabbing a purple cup from beside the sink, I fill it with water as I toss the pills into my mouth.

  It’s been a long time since I needed painkillers to get through the day, but the headache is growing worse. Last night it had been an annoyance but now it is a dull throb, threatening to take over everything.

  I dress in a loose green dress and stick a headband on to try to make sense of my new short hairstyle. I never thought I’d be so sensitive to having short hair or a scar running down my face, but both of those things upset me. When I look in the mirror, it’s like I’m looking at someone else. And that scares me.

  I have never felt that way before, no matter what it was that had happened in the past. Or the future.

  Slipping on a pair of ballet flats, I realize my heels fall out of them when I walk. They don’t fit, or they’ve stretched. It’s bizarre so I switch them to another shoe which fits a little better, but still not perfectly.

  Time to leave the bedroom and head into the kitchen, start my day.

  I don’t want Donovan to know how badly my head hurts so I plaster a fake smile on my face as I saunter from the bedroom.

  In the living room, I can smell eggs and bacon cooking. I turn the corner into the kitchen, and Donovan’s back is to me as he stands at the stove. I reflect on his posture and how the width of his shoulders seems to fill the room. I’ve always known how handsome he is, we were high school sweethearts after all, but I’m taken aback by how sexy his backside is.

  I’m aroused again in ways that are new to me. It must be part of being married because I can barely control my impulses as I make my way over to him.

  When Donovan hears me, he turns with a half-smile on his face, the spatula still in his hand. “Sleep well?”

  I nod that I had as I run my hands up his chest and lock my wrists behind his head. “You should’ve woken me.”

  Donovan fumbles with the knobs on the stove so he can lower the flame. “Well, I thought you needed your rest. You had a rough day yesterday.”

  “That’s true. I would’ve really appreciated a little good morning time.” To make my point, I kiss him.

  Donovan holds me tight, his hands on my hips. I grab his tie and lead him over toward the table. There’s a magazine and some plates on it, but I’m willing to make it work. I place my hand on it, ready to slide everything to the floor, but Donovan grabs my wrist. “Lara, honey, I want you as bad as you want me, but we’re already going to be late for work.”

  I shrug. “Five minutes more won’t kill us.” I pull his head toward mine for a kiss.

  “People are counting on us, Lara. We can’t.” His voice strains as he apologizes. “I’m sorry, we—we need to eat breakfast and then go.” He grabs the plates from the table and brings them over to the counter.

  I can’t believe he’s refusing my advances; he’s never done that before. But he’s right. I’m acting totally irresponsible and in ways that’s not like me at all. We’re going to be late for work, I have no time travel ability, and Rex is out there somewhere toying with me, but all I seem to care about is my sexual appetite.

  More than ever before, I know something is wrong with me and I’m afraid it’s something I won’t be able to control.

  ****

  I walk through a fog as Donovan and I part on the train. My headache pounds in a way that tells me it’s only going to get worse before it gets better. I continue my ride to Union Station and then make my walk over to the clock repair shop.

  The bell rings when I step inside and my mind is drawn to the constant ticking of all the clocks on the wall. As I walk down the narrow aisle toward the glass case counter, the smell of old time wood and polish hits me.

  At the old woman’s desk, is a cat clock with ticking eyes and a little sign that says ‘Be Right Back’. The bell isn’t there, so I put my purse down as I wait. I gaze around with impatience and my eye settles on a golden frame beside the cash register.

  I pick it up and study the black and white photo. It’s the old woman’s smiling face. She’s sitting with an equally old woman, a bit younger, and a few small children sitting around their feet. From the lazy frills, I can tell their dresses are outdated.

  “My family. Do you like them?”

  Her voice startles me and I put the frame down, then nearly knock it over. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry or snoop amongst your things.”

  She’s wearing a long black skirt and a black jacket. In her hand is a cane, and she hobbles toward me, her white curly hair done up on the top of her head. “Well, that’s all right.” Her bifocals slip to the edge of her nose as she studies me. “I’ve always been proud of my family. They’re everything to me.”

  “I understand the feeling,” I say with a slight smile.

  “I’m sure you do, sweetheart. Sorry to hear you were unwell yesterday, I hope it wasn’t anything too serious.”

  “Seizure, but I’m okay.” I hope she’ll get the clock out soon, I’m not sure how much longer I can stand there. Already my legs feel weak.

  “Oh, terrible. I used to get some of those when I was younger. Everything worked out.” She exhales with a click of her tongue as she eyes me up and down. “I remember when I used to be able to dress so pretty. Ahh, don’t get old, child. You won’t like it when you do.”

  I smile kindly, even if she does grate on my nerves. It’s not her fault my head hurts so much.

  The old woman bends over and fishes my clock out of the glass case. She sets it down on the glass countertop for me to inspect. “Beautiful work of art, isn’t it? You were lucky to find it.”

  The clock mesmerizes me as I wind it up to test it out. “Very lucky. The woman who worked at the antique shop, said it was waiting for me.”

  The old woman’s lips draw into a thin line. “She wasn’t wrong. Some things wait for the right person and then reveal themselves. Everything has a story, just as we do. What do you think its story is?”

  I watch the clock as the handstick. The hands on the clock…. My heart fills with grief. “They’re ticking backward.” I close my eyes, blink, and check again only to be as dismayed as before.

  Tock, tick, backward. Rex sent me this clock. I knew it. He could be here, anywhere. Waiting and watching me.

  “Did you do that?” I ask in a short, frightened voice.

  She shook her head. “It’s been doing that since this morning. I thought you’d have the answer.”

  I don’t even want the clock anymore, but I pick up my purse so I can pay for her service. “Just tell me how much I owe you.”

/>   “Your hands are shaking, dear. Why don’t you come sit in the back? I’ll get you a cup of tea. Calm yourself down.”

  “That’s a very nice offer, but I don’t have the time.”

  “Then make the time. It’s what you used to do, isn’t it?” She offers me a playful smile, but her eyes twinkle with knowledge. She knows something about who I am. Then again, didn’t everyone in Boston know who I was at one point or another?

  She takes my hand and I nod. I follow her around the desk, feeling like I’m slipping down the rabbit hole once more.

  ****

  In the back is a small studio apartment filled with antique clocks and a blue dated sofa along the short wall. In the cramped kitchen, I sit at the small square table that is covered in a doily tablecloth, a green vase of dried flowers sitting in the centre.

  At the counter, the old woman pours me a cup of tea and then brings it over to me on a silver tray. Along with the delicate cup and saucer are raspberry tea cookies. I remember when Mom used to give them to me when I was a kid. When she wanted to be fancy.

  “Thank you.” I stir my tea as the woman hobbles back to the kitchen to get her own cup of tea. Then, she sits beside me at the table. Both her hands rest on the top of her cane and she peers out at me like I’m a giant puzzle that needs figuring out.

  “This clock had you spooked. You want to tell me why?”

  I shake my head. “It reminded me of a bad period in my life, but it’s behind me now. Life is as it should be.” I can barely say it because it’s not true.

  It’s never true.

  She eyes me with suspicion and her lips pucker with amusement. “Sure, because everyone who is as happy as you cries at the drop of a hat. Maybe it’s none of my business—”

  “It’s not.” My words are pointed and sharp in ways that I hadn’t intend for them to be.

  Her expression hardens for a fraction of a second. “You look like something is wrong and not just a passing rain cloud. No, it’s more like a storm.”

  I don’t answer her, I’m not sure what to say that’ll make sense to someone who doesn’t know what I’ve been through.

  The old woman tries again. “If you’re in trouble, if you need help, I think it’s best if you tell someone. Don’t you?”

  I swallow hard and think on her words. “You know who I am?”

  “Lara Crane.” The woman’s mouth works left and right as she answers and holds her head proudly. “Time traveler.”

  I shake my head. “I was both those things once, but not anymore. My powers are gone. I thought maybe it’d be a blessing, but I’m worried it’s a curse.”

  The woman nods. “Something like that doesn’t go missing, does it? I think if I were you, I’d be looking at why they’re gone, and who is set to gain the most.”

  I lift my cup and blow the steam away from the tea, my thoughts swirling in all directions. I don’t know who this woman is, but she speaks in riddles. She knows more than she’s saying. “It’s almost like you were sent to warn me.”

  “If I was, I’m doing a pretty poor job of it.” She laughs as she heads back to the counter to get a refill on the cookies and tea. I think on what she’s said as I slowly sip my tea. It’s sweetened and I taste something sticky. The sweetness isn’t pure like sugar, but is a taste I’m unfamiliar with. I stand up when my eyes fall onto the honey bear bottle on the counter.

  I’m allergic to honey. Why would she put the honey in my tea without asking me?

  I pick up my purse and rifle through it, searching for an EPI pen, but there isn’t one. I know that, and I look for it anyway. It’s been so long since I’ve carried one on me and things like medicine don’t exactly time travel very well.

  “Are you all right? You look frantic.”

  I rub my throat, expecting it to seize up at any moment, but it hasn’t. In fact, it doesn’t hurt at all. I’m able to breathe, able to swallow, nothing is wrong with me in that moment. It’s as if I don’t have a honey allergy at all.

  “I have to go. I’ll grab the clock on my way out.” I run from the studio toward the front of the clock shop and everything snaps into place.

  My hair and the scar on my face. The way my shoes don’t fit right, and I can’t remember anything from my wedding or anything prior to arriving in the White Mountains. Now I’m faced with honey and how I should be allergic but I’m not.

  My inability to time travel.

  The answer is inconceivable. I can’t fathom it but it’s the only thing that makes sense. I’m not Lara Crane. Montgomery. James. Whatever name you give me, I’m not who I should be.

  I’m someone else.

  Chapter Sixteen: Lara

  In all the time jumps and in every timeline, I have been in there had always been one recurring thread. I always knew I had jumped and retained my information from each previous timeline. If somehow I’ve moved across the timelines and am unaware of a jump, it opens up more questions than it answers.

  I don’t know what to do, but I instinctively run to Donovan. The bag with the clock in my hand swings in my hand as I step off the elevator and hurry toward the etched glass doors. I’m at Crane and James Consulting. I see the receptionist desk first and she waves to me as she balances the phone on one shoulder.

  I return it, I turn the corner and walk down the hall between the offices and cubicles. On my way to Donovan’s corner office there’s a window and it shines light onto the water bubbler against the wall where my dad stands.

  Oh Dad. Just seeing him puts a lump in my throat.

  He’s sipping a cup of water. When he sees me, his eyes light up and he gives me a little grin.

  What if he’s not my dad? What if I don’t even belong here?

  I swallow my grief and return his greeting. “Hi, Dad.”

  We stand side by side, but I feel like there’s the breadth of the ocean between us. I want nothing more than to fall into his arms, cry, and have him fix everything that’s going on. Instead, I smile, too terrified to begin to put into words what I’m feeling on the inside.

  “Hey, pumpkin.” Dad strokes my chin and there’s worry on his face. “How are you doing?”

  Donovan must’ve told him about my seizure. I nod. “Doing good. Just a little headache.” That might’ve been true in the morning, but now it roared inside my head, becoming a frantic beast.

  Dad sighs and it’s clear; the drawn look of his eyes confirms he’s not going to stop worrying about me. “I know with everything that happened, you’ve been under a lot of stress.” He tosses his white paper cup into the trash. “I wasn’t even there. I wasn’t given a part in the game that Rex played on you. He sent me as far from you as he could. All the way to Chicago.”

  “Probably because he knew how important you are to me, to Mom. Even Molly. You would’ve figured it out.”

  He smirks. “I think you’re giving me too much credit, but thanks, pumpkin. You buy something nice?” Dad nods toward the bag I’m holding.

  “A clock. A nice one for the mantel.”

  Dad laughs. “Funny. You with a clock.”

  “I thought it was a little funny, too.” At least I had until I realized I can’t travel through time anymore, but Dad doesn’t need to hear that. He worries enough. “I’ll see you later.” I hug him lightly and continue on my way toward Donovan’s office.

  Struggling with a breath, I pull down the hem of my dress to straighten myself out and rap my knuckles against his door. I peer through the glass walls and am able to see he’s on the phone, pacing the floor with one hand in his pocket.

  Pulling the door open just enough, I stick my head in and give him a wave. His eyes light up and he waves me in. After I step into his office, I close the door gently behind me and place my bag onto the coffee table beside the sofa.

  I stand off to the side, trying not to eavesdrop on the conversation he’s having. It’s clearly all business and I study the books on his bookcase, my finger tracing through the dust that’s collected on the thick volume
s.

  “Great, I’ll be in touch tomorrow. Catch you then.”

  When Donovan ends his call, I turn around. He makes great strides to cross the room and settles his hands onto my waist. “You’re a sight for sore eyes. Is that the clock? All fixed up?” He picks up the bag to sneak a peek and the paper crinkles as he steals a glance.

  I nod, and suddenly I’m afraid to tell him why I’m there. I don’t want to upset him with the notions swirling in my head.

  “What’s wrong?” Donovan’s face drops with worry and I can taste his worry as his arms slide around my waist. “You didn’t have another seizure?”

  I shake my head and my breath shudders.

  “Whatever it is, tell me. Please.”

  I want to, but I don’t know where to start. “This morning my shoes didn’t fit. They were too big.” Donovan’s eyes crinkle with amusement more than worry, but he doesn’t interrupt me. “I barely remember what we did after the wedding before we arrived in New Hampshire.”

  “Okay…I don’t know what you’re—”

  I hold up my finger to quiet him. “Today I had tea with the lady who owns the clock repair shop and she put honey in it.”

  “Honey?” Donovan stands straighter and he goes rigid. “Did you go to the hospital?”

  “I didn’t have a reaction. Not even a twinge and I thought I would.” Something else springs to mind and I splay my hand out to him. “At the TTPA yesterday, I failed the fingerprint scan the first time. That’s never happened before. It’s like…” I don’t finish what I want to say as tears form in my eyes.

  I’m scared and more than that, I’m terrified.

  Donovan grips my hand and slowly lowers my arm to my side. “Machines malfunction sometimes. It doesn’t mean anything. I can see your mind is spinning, Lara. It doesn’t need to. You’re fine.”

  I’m not fine. I’m far from fine and part me of me feels that Donovan knows that, so why so much insistence? “I can’t travel in time and all this adds up to one thing.” One thing, and I can’t bring myself to say it as I stare into his loving eyes. They hold more than love. My terror is mirrored in them and that’s when I realize, he knows what I’m getting at, but he won’t say it either.