by Jill Cooper
“I’m not your Lara.” My face crumples and I dissolve into a fit of tears.
“Hey,” Donovan says softly and takes my face in both his hands. Slowly he kisses me and I melt into him more than I ever have. “Hey,” he says again, and it restores my faith in him, in me. “You’re Lara. You’re my Lara. I know it by looking at you.”
I reach back and touch my short hair. There’s no port on the back of my brain and nothing about me is as it should be. Donovan might be able to stand there in front of me and promise everything will be okay, but it won’t.
Nothing is going to be okay. The truth rattles around inside of me like a lost coin.
“I’ve always known when I’ve jumped. I’ve never had it sneak up on me like this. I don’t belong here, or I’m supposed to be someone else…” The words rush out of me fast. I can’t keep up with all the what-if situations my brain is throwing at me.
“You’re where you belong, I promise, Lara.” Donovan pushes his lips together and his eyes hold such conviction that I believe him. If that’s not it, if I’m where I’m supposed to be, then what is going on? It has to be something. What is happening isn’t normal and my insides scream to figure it out.
I have to make it right.
Outside it starts to rain and thunder flashes. The sound of raindrops hitting the glass windows of Donovan’s office echoes through the small chamber. I cling to my husband as he embraces me and we kiss, neither of us wanting to part. Both of us afraid to separate.
If Rex has done this, if Rex is out there somehow, determined to destroy me, it’s only a matter of time before he shows himself and I’m not ready to see him. I’m not ready to face him with no power to my name.
We could get through anything, that’s what Donovan always said. His love would be the one thing to see me through, no matter what dangers lurked for us in the dark.
In the dark halls of time.
****
I work the best I can through the day, but my mind is distracted. At the end of the day, we grab some take-out on the way home. Donovan and I eat on the sofa like we usually do, with the television on to cut the workday tension, but neither of us enjoys what we watch. The food is tasteless and my mind wanders in a million directions.
Donovan throws away the trash and wrappers from our burgers. While he does that, I unpack the clock and put it on the mantel. It adds some much-needed elegance to the place, but the clock is a curse. It gawks at me and seems to dare me to wind it up. If it’s from Rex, I don’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing how distraught he’s making me.
“Looks nice,” Donovan says as he enters the living room. “Does it work?”
“Only if we wind it. Let’s do that later.” I turn away from the clock and from Donovan and head into the kitchen. The lights are brighter, so I lower them as I make my way through. It does nothing but make my head pound, like a firetruck trying to free itself from my skull.
I pour myself a glass of orange juice and grab the pain-medicine bottle I leave stashed in the drawer beside the stove. Donovan’s talking to me—I hadn’t heard him come into the room. Gulping down the sweet acidic juice, I try to listen to what he has to say, but even if I was unable to hear him I can figure still it out.
“I’ll call the doctor tomorrow if the headaches grow worse. I promise.”
Donovan nods, his hands in his pockets. “I worry about you. You know that? I don’t want anything bad to happen to you.”
I’m restless and, distracted and sullen. “Have you heard from Cassidy? Has she found anything about Rex?”
He shakes his head. “I’ll get in touch with her. I promise, but I think you should go to bed and get some rest.”
It’s a good idea and even if I didn’t agree, my headache gets in the way of anything else I might do. “It feels like you’re always trying to put me away.” I tear slips down my cheek. “Like I’m a fragile China plate instead of a tough-as-nails Crane.”
“We take care of those we love, Lara. Don’t let your pain convince you I’m a monster in all this. You know I’m not.” Donovan slips his arm around my waist and leads me to the bedroom. As I chang into a pair of pajamas, he draws the curtains and pulls the comforter down so it’s easier for me to climb into bed.
The satin sheets are cold, and the pillow is soft, like a piece of heaven. It’s like a sanctuary as Donovan slowly kisses me and despite my headache, I feel the rush of desire. My hands pull through his hair, driving him down further. He smells like a spicy aftershave and I want nothing more than to get lost in it, but my head feels worse for having smelled it.
I groan without meaning to and Donovan pulls back. “Night, Rockstar. You’ll always be my girl, you know that?”
I do. I wish he hadn’t felt the need to ask. “I love you.”
Donovan smiles. “It’ll get easier. Or you’re not Lara Crane, right?”
That was part of the problem. I’m not sure who I am anymore. I’m not sure Donovan knows either. But maybe he isn’t brave enough to say it. Maybe he feels the way I do, maybe he’s slipping away as fast as I feel I am.
Maybe love isn’t enough to see us through.
Chapter Seventeen: Donovan
I leave a note on the table for Lara in case she wakes up early. Then I head to talk to the one person I think could fix all of this. I need to see Mike and find out what he’d done to Lara. I can barely sit still on the train. All the sounds are magnified, and the smell of diesel fuel is stronger than it’s ever been.
My palms sweat. I’m coming unglued because I’m staring the truth in the face. Lara’s headaches, the seizure, it’s a direct response to what we’ve done to her. We’d had little choice but it doesn’t absolve me of my guilt. If we can’t wrap our heads around a solution, we’ll lose her.
Simple as that.
The walk over to the Montgomery townhouse feels like it takes hours rather than a few short minutes. I knock on the front door and let myself in the way I usually do. We’re all family now. There’s nothing left to separate us. Except for what I’ve done.
I brought their girl back, I saved her. I should be proud but all I feel is shame. Lara was hurting, struggling, and it was my fault.
But she was alive, damnit. So how can I apologize for that?
The smell of tomato sauce and meatballs hits me. It’s dinner time and I’m hit with the realization that I have no idea what time it is. I take a deep breath, fix my jacket and my hair as I walk down the hall toward the dining room. There’s a warmth, a cozy feeling to the place.
Miranda and John sit with Mike and Molly. There’s light talk and everything is calm for once. Molly looks over at me as she slurps up some spaghetti and I hesitate. In her eyes, there’s understanding and knowledge beyond her years. She can be a scary kid to be around sometimes and I wonder what she sees as she gazes through me, privy to the countless choices I might make.
“Don!” Miranda’s eyes widen and she sets her glass of wine down. “I didn’t hear you come in. Mike, why don’t you grab Don a place setting. Is Lara with you? How is she?”
She has a flurry of questions and I’m not prepared to answer any of them. “She went to bed early. I thought I’d come over and say hello. Speak to the twins for a bit.” I study Mike as I speak. He twirls the strands of pasta around his fork and behaves like Miranda hasn’t spoken to him.
“Hello, huh?” John leans back in his seat and folds his hands across his middle. He’s ever questioning, ever suspicious of me. Maybe his time in prison made him paranoid, or maybe he doesn’t like me, but I don’t have time to indulge him.
Good-naturedly, I shrug. “Always nice to catch up with family, John.”
“Mike,” Miranda gently prods, “you did hear what I had to say, didn’t you?”
“Sorry.” Mike tosses his napkin onto the table. He slides back his chair and heads toward the kitchen. I excuse myself and follow.
“Don,” Molly says but doesn’t take it any further. It’s easy to feel her nervous
energy but I ignore it.
I push past the swinging door and watch Mike grab a plate from the cabinet above the stove. The stove is splattered with tomato sauce and there are empty pasta boxes on the counter. A normal family having a typical dinner, but there’s nothing typical about anyone who lives in this house.
Mike turns, holding the plate with both hands and our eyes lock. There’s fear in his and I have to wonder why. “Something on your mind, Don?”
I step up, do my best to intimidate him, and speak in a low voice. “What’d you do to Lara, Mike?”
He stutters and hesitates, his eyes ticking to the left. “You know what I did. I did what you asked.”
Pins it right on me. The kid might be family, but he’s nothing but a little punk. I’m starting to see it, but how come I’m the only one?
“Things aren’t the same. I think you didn’t tell us everything.” I pause to stare him down and Mike shifts uncomfortably beneath my gaze. “She doesn’t have her powers. Her allergy to honey is gone. She had a seizure and the headache hasn’t left her since yesterday. So, don’t tell me everything’s going to be okay.”
Mike’s eyes widen. “I can explain. I mean, I can try to.”
“Did you hurt her on purpose?” I step up and slip my hand from my pocket. I come close to putting my hands on him, but I don’t.
“I wouldn’t hurt Lara. I know I made some mistakes, but I never wanted to hurt her. I wanted the time travel stuff to stop.”
I grab a fist full of his shirt. “And now her power doesn’t work. She thinks she’s the wrong Lara or in the wrong timeline. You know how she pieces things together.”
“You have to convince her. Enough time hasn’t passed, if she learns the truth, she might separate. Just like what happened with Cassidy. She learned the truth and everything came crashing down. A few more weeks, I promise. Then you can come clean.”
I rub my jaw. “I’ll do my part, but I need you to do yours. You need to fix her.”
“Fix her?” Mike’s face twitches in a frown.
“Fix her,” I repeat slowly, angrily. “Time travel, the headaches, all of it. I want Lara back the way she was.”
“I did the best I could. I don’t think I can.” Mike rushes his words all together with nerves. “The body she has…it might not be able to time travel. Maybe it can’t handle it.”
“Not good enough. She’s different, Mike. Her personality is off. She’s doing things she would never do.”
“You think the other Lara’s personality is influencing her?”
I don’t want to admit it but that’s exactly what I think. “I’m scared I’m losing her. I get that I asked you to do something you’ve never done before, and you did the best you could, but it’s not good enough. We have to try again.”
“How?” Mike demands. “How can we do anything without her knowing what we did in the first place?”
I have a pretty good idea how we can pull it off, but no one is going to like what I have to say. Keeping it to myself for now is the only option. “If I can get her to the bridge, will you come? Will you see what you can do?”
Mike nods. “I can’t make any promises, but I’ll do my best. How will you get her there?”
I don’t want to say what I’m thinking out loud. “Just trust me. I’ll call when the time is right.”
“I guess we’ll have to trust you, right?” Mike shakes his head in disapproval and I want nothing more than to smack him. I need him as an ally, but the simple truth is none of this would be happening if it hadn’t been for him working with Rex. He’d set this in motion and now I’m left to make the impossible choices and clean up the pieces.
Mike leaves and I follow, but Molly blocks me at the door. Her jaw is tense and her eyes flick with resounding anger. “You think I don’t know what you’re going to do? What you’ve already chosen?”
“You haven’t been there. You haven’t seen her.”
Molly shakes her head. “I know how much you love her, Don, but if you save her like this…. She’ll never look at you the same way. Us. Don’t become Rex. Don’t force her to the bridge against her will. Please.”
“What would you have me do, huh?” My voice is a mere whisper. “If we don’t do this, we lose her. If she finds out the truth, we might lose her then too. I’m doing what I have to do. You think I don’t hate all this?”
Molly’s expression softens. “I told you it was a mistake. I told you it would rip us apart and now that’s exactly what is happening. We can’t stop it even if we wanted to. We’re on a freight train headed toward a brick building. Nothing will save us.”
“Thanks for your uplifting speeches, but if I didn’t do what I did, Lara would be dead. We’d be destroyed anyway.”
“Sometimes we have to let the people we love go, Don. Sometimes it’s time.”
“Not Lara’s,” I growl and can’t keep my voice from rising.
Molly’s eyes are wide as they shift back and forth, studying me. “Something happened to you when the timeline was altered. You became Patricia’s lap boy, you did unconscionable things. I feel like I’m talking to that Don. Not the one Lara loves so much. If saving her means changing this much, Lara wouldn’t want to be saved. You’ll break her heart.”
That’s why she is never going to find out. “Too late for all of that.” I walk away and in the hallway John strides toward me. God, what does he want? Did he hear what Molly and I had been talking about?
“Everything okay, Don? You sounded angry.”
“Just keep an eye on the twins, would you? We don’t need any surprises.” I try to move past him, but John grabs my arm.
“Is there something you want to tell me? Is something wrong with Lara you don’t want her mother to hear about?” John leans in and whispers as he says it. He knows how fragile Miranda can be, especially after everything that has recently happened in the altered timeline.
“It’s nothing like that, John. I wouldn’t keep something like that from either of you. Give everyone my regards, will you? I’m going to go home and check on Lara. Make sure she’s all right.”
John nods. “Tell her I’ll call her tomorrow.”
Well, that would complicate things. “Will do. Thanks, John.”
I head down the hall and through the living room toward the front door. The entire way, I can feel John’s eyes on me. If he doesn’t trust me, he’s never said, and making enemies with him is the last thing I’ve ever wanted. When I’d lost all my money in a stock trading deal, he’d bailed me out, kept me and Lara afloat.
I’d always be grateful.
Opening the front door, I turn to look at John’s suspicious eyes and realize maybe there’s nothing I can do to stop that from happening. Not if I want to save Lara.
Maybe becoming the enemy is my only choice.
Chapter Eighteen: Lara
In my dream, I’m someone else. Yet, I’m still me. A Lara Crane, and not a Montgomery or a James. I’m snarky, rough around the edges and so in love with my boyfriend, that it aches to think he might be dead and lost in a timeline I can’t get back to.
It’s the Lara from the other timeline and now I have her hair, I have the same scar running down her face and it terrifies me.
What if I am really her trapped in this timeline where everything has changed and my real life has gotten left behind?
I gasp, eyes wide as I bolt upright in bed. My head aches from sitting up too fast and I groan. As I hold my head, my pulse rockets around inside my brain. My blood pressure spikes, I feel it flowing fast. It’s like the worst case of a rush of adrenaline I’ve ever felt.
Slowly, my hearing snaps into place and I hear the ticking of a clock. Loud, like it’s coming from this room, I realize it isn’t. It’s coming from the living room.
Rising from the bed, I catch a glance out my window and see the city skyline is dark. Night has fallen and the city glows from the streetlamps and the cars speeding off in the distance. I’ve been asleep a long while and I wonder
where Donovan may be.
The lights in the living room are turned down soft and I’m hit with the smell of our vanilla candle. With my head feeling the way it does, the scent is stronger, overpowering, and it turns my stomach.
“Don?” My voice seems to echo in the empty chamber and I realize Donovan isn’t here. I wonder where he is.
My eye is drawn to the mantel and the spotlight overhead casts an amber glow onto the clock. It’s ticking backward and makes a noise with each second tick. I could’ve sworn I’d made sure that thing wasn’t working when I’d left it there.
I head over to turn it off. Flipping it in my hand, I grab the winder and by accident, I pull it off. Something on the front of the clock snaps. Leaning in close, I inspect it.
The drawer has opened.
My heart pounds as I put the clock down on the mantel and quickly slide the drawer open wide enough to peer inside. Inside, is a blue envelope.
Oh God. Rex. Please, stop. Just leave me alone.
I pull it free, giving it a shake when it gets stuck on the corner. As I do that, I hear the front door open.
Donovan’s home.
I gulp, swallow hard as I open the envelope. The corner is sharp and it pricks my finger. I call out with a gasp of breath and Donovan hears me. “Lara, hey, you feeling any better?”
Shaking my head, I pull a folded photo out of the envelope. An ominous cloud hands above me and I’m terrified as I unfold the black and white photo.
“What is that?” Donovan asks.
“I don’t know…” My eyebrows arch as I take in the photo and the faces snap into place. It’s Cassidy and Donovan standing in the old Rewind Agency. Their arms are wrapped around each other and they are kissing. Holding each other for dear life, kissing passionately.
My heart’s crushed and all the air expels my lungs. I drop the photo and back away from it as though it’s a nuclear device. Donovan bends over to pick it up and I watch him as if I’m watching a stranger. His fast twists in surprise.