“SOP?”
“Standard operating procedure.”
“Of course.” She was quiet for a few seconds. “It is a sort of scientific short hand, isn’t it?”
She hesitated, as if not sure where to start, but then she handed him her umbrella and started with her gloves, working at the fastenings of first one and then the other. She eased them off with a deliberation that made him swallow dryly. He set gloves and umbrella aside so he could help her with her jacket, because it was the gentlemanly thing to do, though maybe not totally when his hands slid down her arms with the coat. The blouse under it was soft and white, with a froth of lace at her throat. Her skirt, the same stuff as her jacket, belled out from her trim waist.
She looked like she might stop here, so Carey mined shoving her sleeves up. Another hesitation, as she processed this before she began working on the tight-fitting-at-the-wrists sleeves. Her skin was pale, no sun lines at all. She’d need some sun screen. Without prompting, she loosened the froth of stuff at her neck. That he’d thought the word “froth” was a little scary, but then so was Olivia. The round neckline of her blouse was less than he’d have liked, but he didn’t see how to loosen it further. There were rows of tiny pleats, rather than buttons down the front. Her movements had been small and contained, not even close to a strip, but it didn’t seem to matter to his libido.
“Better?” His voice was well into the husky range.
Her nod was on the jerky side. Her lashes were down again, dark against her skin. She stood still, except for the rapid rise and fall of her chest. He made himself step back and dig through his pack until he found the sunscreen. “Rub this on. You’ll burn, even with your umbrella. The sun reflects up off the ground.”
She licked her pink lips. “It’s a parasol.” She took the bottle, her fingers brushing his briefly. It was like touching a rose petal, that brief brush of her skin to his. She turned it, her look puzzled. “What does it do?”
Carey took it back, popped the top and squirted a glob in her hand. She jumped.
“Rub it on your face, neck, hands and arms. Any exposed skin.”
Her blush almost made him blush. He felt like he’d been talking dirty, mentioning her skin. And now he had to watch her do it, because he had to make sure she didn’t miss a spot. His mouth went dry as she stroked it on her really, really pale skin. It looked so soft and…tasty…
“Did I do it correctly?”
He shouldn’t, but he did. He grasped her shoulders, his hold light, and turned her so he could see the back of her neck. The sight of it almost took out his knees. Didn’t know why that spot on a woman got to him, just knew it did. A few strands of her dark hair lay damply against skin glistening faintly from the sunscreen. His mouth watered at the sight of her neck, exposed by the upsweep of her hair style. Odd, it didn’t help the dry throat. Coconut mingled with the smell of lavender and Olivia. He didn’t know if he would have touched her, if he would have kissed the spot, because that stupid buzzard made a pass over them. She looked up, following the buzzard’s flight, her hair brushing his face and blocking his view.
“What is it?”
“Turkey vulture.” His voice was husky, though the sight of the vulture helped him get his perspective back where it should be. He pointed up. “We should get moving before it decides to have us for lunch.”
He didn’t know where it came from, he hadn’t done it since high school prom, but he extended his elbow. She shifted her parasol to her other hand and placed her bare hand on his bare arm. She was touching him. He was touching her. So far, so good. So far really good. He led her toward a cut in the mountainside, but as soon as they started up, he had to stop being a gentleman and grip her hand. Pulling her up hurt like a son of a bravo—funny how he couldn’t swear inside his own head around her—and he had to grit his teeth as they struggled up the incline. Her blouse got less white and she started using the parasol to spear the ground instead of for shade, so it got dirty, too. Strands of hair escaped from the mass on top of her head. When she pushed them back, she left dirty streaks on her cheeks and forehead. This time he wasn’t surprised he still wanted to kiss her. He was a guy.
“You’re in pain,” Olivia said, as if he didn’t know.
How had she made it up here on her own? And with no sign of grubby?
“Banged my ribs a bit.” He paused to look down and give her grin. “I’m fine.” He turned and braced himself, then tugged her up next to him. She sank down with a sigh.
Carey dug out a water packet, opened it and handed it to her. She must have been gasping for it, but she sipped it like they were at a tea party. She used the back of her hand to dab the moisture from her mouth before handing it back, leaving another dirt streak behind.
“Thank you.” She looked around, with a mixture of curiosity and unease.
“You’ve never been out in the wilds, have you?”
“I suppose it’s obvious I’ve never seen the elephant.”
He thought about asking her what that meant, but figured it might be a metaphor and he didn’t do those. “How did you get up here without getting all dusty and dirty?”
“I didn’t go up this way. I wasn’t sure I could go across lots on my own.”
It was possible to want to kiss a woman and leave her for the buzzard to take care of. He stood up and looked up the slope. Tried to do it, tried to start up again. A man did not admit he was wrong to a woman. His ribs got a good grip on his mid-section and told him to suck it up.
“Which way did you go?” It wasn’t an admission of anything.
Not even a hint of “I told you so” lit her brown eyes. If anything they glowed with you are a big, strong man and I’m so glad I can help you.
“Just over there.”
Seriously, he could kiss this girl like it was his job.
* * * *
It was not easy to get turned around on the steep slope, but Brae helped her, wincing in the process. His arm slid around her waist. It was outrageously forward of him. She should have protested, and would have, but her throat closed on a sound that didn’t feel like a protest. It wasn’t scientific. It wasn’t logical—something the professor had stressed all the years of their association. And it wasn’t wise. It didn’t matter. Mama had known that Olivia longed to see the elephant, Olivia realized now. She’d always been restive with the limits of proper society. Olivia had taken employment with the Professor in hopes of something happening and now it had. True, it was not exactly how she’d imagined seeing the elephant would be, but an adventure was a trip into the unknown. It had to be unknown to be an adventure.
Once they were facing uphill again, he began to ease back. His nearness did odd things to her breathing, but her duty was clear. He was injured and she was required to assist him. She gathered her resolve and shifted closer, tightening her grip on his waist. The heat from his body seeped into her where they touched. It was comforting and exciting to be this close. She felt safe, but shivery and apprehensive, too.
“You don’t—”
“It is SOP.” Olivia looked up, her face inches from his. He stopped talking. They stopped moving. His arm tightened. He smiled, the impact greater by reason of proximity.
“Thanks.”
“You are welcome.”
Was his face coming closer to hers? It seemed like it and she angled her head, just in case, but then an odd sound reached her ears. She felt Brae stiffen.
He angled his head, listening. “That’s a chopper.”
Chopper? Was that another flying predator they needed to be concerned about eating them? She listened anxiously as the chop-chop-chopping noise grew steadily closer—and then, as if it lacked the power to top the mountain ridge, began to fade again.
“We need to get up top,” Brae said, increasing their progress.
They worked their way to the small ravine Olivia had used to climb to the top of the ridge. When she went to step out into the clear, Brae stopped her, his hold on her waist tightening.
/>
“Wait. I’d like to take a look before we expose our position.” He stepped clear, leaving her feeling chilled despite the heat of the day. He removed two joined telescopes from a pocket in his vest and eased toward the top of the ridge, resting full length on the ground. Olivia waited below, not sure why she felt anxious as he applied the telescopes to his eyes. After a bit, he turned and looked at her.
“What’s wrong? Was the settlement a mirage after all?”
He shook his head, his expression puzzled. “No, it’s there, just like you said. But it’s not—”
“—what you were expecting? I too found it quite odd.”
“Odd. That’s one word for it.”
“Have you ever seen anything like it?”
He appeared to make two tries to answer her question before saying, “It’s complicated.”
* * * *
Complicated was an understatement. Okay, so they weren’t in 1890’s. And that chopper wasn’t his ride. He’d known before he saw it, just by the sound, though he kept hoping he was wrong until he got a look at it. They wouldn’t send a Sikorsky after him. He’d seen one at an air show with a bunch of old WWII craft on his last leave, or he wouldn’t have recognized it. The encampment wasn’t as easy to sort out. It looked wrong, too, though he couldn’t put his finger on just why.
Maybe Olivia’s proximity was messing with his head. He’d thought it was good she’d made it easy to stay in physical contact with her. Now he wasn’t so sure. There wasn’t much to her, so he’d been able to lift her over the odd obstacle without too much pain. That wasn’t to say she didn’t have all the right parts, in all the right places. She was just lighter and thinner than he thought she’d be from looking at her. Maybe it was all those clothes, all so prim it made him hot, which it shouldn’t, should it? He gave himself a mental shake. If she were from the 1890’s it was probably against her religion to kiss before marriage. Okay, focus, Carey. SAT phone. He wanted to try it again, but it would freak her out.
Or would it? What would a girl who traveled in a trans-whatever machine do when faced with the unbelievable? Now that he thought about it, she seemed to be kind of open minded about stuff that made his head spin and he’d been in another galaxy.
“Can I ask you a question, Olivia?”
She angled her head and her parasol in a way that was kind of sexy and very girl. She was dusty and dirty and rumpled. So was her parasol. She had smudges all over her face. He brushed at one of the smudges, even though he shouldn’t and got caught in her wondering gaze. It was partly child, mostly woman—a woman on the brink of solving the mystery of the sexes. He hadn’t seen that look since high school. She’d probably never been kissed, so it would be a mystery to her, wouldn’t it? He hadn’t been around a girl who’d never been kissed since he was maybe twelve?
“What did you wish to ask me?”
Can I kiss you was what his small brain produced. He managed to get out the big brain question instead. “How do you feel about time travel?”
Her brows drew together, but not with incredulity or disbelief. It was more considering. “I have heard theories on the subject, but it is not the professor’s area of interest.”
“But you, do you think traveling through time is possible?”
Her gaze narrowed, assessing him in a way a lot less girl and a lot more scientist. He’d been around enough geeks to recognize the look. If she’d been a clock, he’d have heard wheels turning in her brain housing group. Her eyes widened. With a suddenness he couldn’t stop, she scrambled up next to him, settling on her stomach like he had, her elbows propped in the dirt. Not bad for such a girly girl. He turned with her, aware the chopper sound was more distant, but not distant enough that she couldn’t see it.
“Give me your telescopes.”
Without speaking he handed over the binoculars.
She put them to her eyes, then lowered them again. “How—”
“Turn these to focus.” He covered one of her hands to demonstrate. It almost made him forget what he didn’t want her to see.
“It is a flying machine.” A long silence before she lowered the binoculars. Her lashes hid her expression. “Chopper?”
“Helicopter. Chopper for short, because of the sound it makes.”
Her chin angled, then a slow nod. Her lashes lifted. “When do you think it is? The truth this time.”
He hesitated. “I thought it was 2010 until I ran into you. Then I thought, maybe not.”
He didn’t think she could lose more color, but she managed it. Then her spine straightened another inch he’d have thought not possible, not lying on her stomach or standing up. Her gaze pinned him like she was his mom.
“How?”
Carey was afraid she’d ask that question.
* * * *
“You must know how strange, how unbelievable, this sounds.” Did she want to believe him because he made her heart race? Because he had wonderful blue eyes? Could she trust her conviction, this sense that he spoke the truth, when the issue was confused by how odd and safe and shivery he made her feel? It was not just his words confirming his veracity. There was his strange attire and his weapons. She’d seen the chopper and studied something he called a driving license that told her he’d been born on December twenty-fourth, nineteen seventy-nine. Could it truly be the year two thousand and ten? Could she be one hundred and sixteen years in the future? Did that make her one hundred and forty-four years old? One hundred and thirteen years older than Brae? She was a blue stocking and should be above such concerns. It was lowering to find she wasn’t.
“You have that machine, Olivia, not exactly normal.”
It was a fair point. And a reminder that she must apply scientific method and discern what she could from the morass of confusion inside her head.
“You believe the impact I experienced caused the transmogrification machine to misfire?”
His expression took on a guilty cast.
“What?”
“Actually, I think,” he rubbed his chin, “I think we collided inside something called a wormhole. At least, the geeks think it is a wormhole. They don’t really know what it is yet. Or maybe your wormhole thing and mine collided. I’m not a scientist. I’m a soldier, a pilot, a guinea pig.”
The more he spoke the less she understood. “What?”
“I was involved in an experiment, too. And I think our experiments bumped heads.” He bumped his fists together.
“Your machine hit mine? You caused the problem and did not mention it before now?” Had she known this it would have changed her problem solving methods. Though she had to admit she did not know if it would have changed the outcome.
“Okay, I wasn’t sure and I wasn’t in a machine. I was kind of free falling.”
Olivia felt her insides tighten as pieces of the puzzle began to slide into place. “Your injury to your ribs.” He nodded a bit warily, but something did not add up. “So you knocked me off my course while you were traveling here—”
He shook his head. “Actually, I was supposed to land in Nevada, in a different season. I think its spring here and I was headed for autumn. We knocked each other off course. I think. Like I said, not a scientist.”
Olivia didn’t have to do a great deal of mental math to conclude, “That’s not possible.”
“I’m telling you the truth—”
“That’s not what I meant. The science is incorrect. Where were you coming from?” When he hesitated, she added with some impatience, “I need to know.”
“Even if it blows your mind?”
Olivia had no idea what that meant, but it sounded painful. With some trepidation, she nodded.
“I traveled here using an alien device we discovered in another galaxy. I traveled from this galaxy to ours. According to the doc, this portal thing can traverse space and time.”
Space and time. Olivia heard the words, felt them strike her like a blow to her center, as her mind spun around the images and science his words invoked.
Space travel. Time travel. It was wondrous to contemplate, almost beyond comprehension. A thought occurred to her and she turned to Brae.
“Have we traveled to the moon then? In your time, do humans now live there?”
“It’s not very habitable.”
“Oh.” It seemed an inadequate reply. What other wonders might she see in this time? But that feeling of something off came again. She frowned, considering what he’d told her. With her finger she drew a circle for Brae’s planet and one for Earth. She drew a line for Brae’s journey from there and another for her. They’d have intersected close to earth, because she was not traveling through space. For an instant she felt the shock of it cloud her thinking, but the science trumped wonder. It still didn’t work. It couldn’t work the way he assumed.
“What’s wrong?”
“It seems unlikely that the impact could alter the course of the transmogrification machine so dramatically, and only slightly impact your destination.”
It was his turn to look uneasy. “But I’m smaller than your machine.”
“Exactly. You might have had the edge in velocity, which could account for my time displacement, but yours should be more displaced, too.” She hesitated, not believing what she was about to ask. “Are you sure this is your time?
He lost some color. “I do have some technology that isn’t working like it should.”
She recalled something else he’d said. “You were surprised there was an encampment near the river.”
He took the telescopes and directed them toward the encampment. He sank down, his expression strained. “Six impossible things.”
“Through the Looking Glass and What Alice Found There.”
“You’ve read it?”
“Of course.” Was his mind blown? It was, apparently, not fatal. “A scientist sees the impossible and seeks to learn how it is possible. Or how to make it possible.”
“The professor tell you that?”
She nodded. “What did you see? When do you think we are?”
Tangled in Time Page 4