Out of Time: A Time Travel Mystery (Out of Time #1)

by Monique Martin

  For his part, Simon accepted her announcement with resignation. She’d expected a lecture, or, at the very least a disapproving glare. He simply nodded and asked her to be careful. With one last significant look at Lester, he left to walk home alone. For a brief second, Elizabeth wanted to go after him, but thankfully the moment of madness passed.

  Once the money was bundled, she and Lester started out. The strain of the last few days was finally beginning to hit her, and she was more than grateful that Lester was a man of few words. They walked quietly along the empty streets. The sound of their footsteps and the occasional clatter of a milk horse cart were the only noises to disturb the night and her thoughts. Had it been her imagination or was Simon less Simony tonight? He seemed distracted and softer around the edges somehow.

  She shook her head and walked a little faster. No. She was not going to fall for it again. She’d take the little, shreddy remnants of her heart and move on.

  She was moving on.

  Definitely moving on.

  If he wanted to apologize, really apologize, he’d had ample opportunity. Well, maybe not ample. She’d been gone each morning before he woke up, ignored him at the club, and didn’t talk to him at home. But if he really wanted to, he’d have found a way. So, clearly, he didn’t want to. He liked it the way it was. Her suffering and burning in the hell of abject despair was obviously the way he wanted things.

  And that was fine by her. Not the suffering, she could definitely do without that part, but she didn’t need him. She was a rock. She was an island. And channeling Simon and Garfunkel was never a good sign.

  She sighed so heavily, Lester actually spoke. “You okay, Lizzy?”

  “Yeah. Just thinking.”

  “Ah,” he said and nodded sagely. “Gotcha.”

  “We almost there?”

  “Yeah, not too far. Ya know,” he said, casting a quick glance over at her. “Charlie might brain me for sayin’ sumpthin’ but, I figure you got as much a right to know as anybody. Maybe more.”

  That caught her attention. “Know what?”

  “About King. He ain’t what you—”

  Suddenly, Lester stopped walking and grabbed Elizabeth’s arm. He cocked his big, bald head to the side.

  “What is it?” she asked anxiously. His sausage-sized fingers dug into her arm.

  “We’re bein’—”

  The figures came out of the darkness too fast for either of them to react. A pair of iron hands clamped onto her arms, pulled her out of Lester’s grip and tossed her into the shadows of the alley.

  Chapter Sixteen

  SIMON SAT IN HIS chair, his personal prison, and waited. The minutes dragged on and still Elizabeth wasn’t home. The streets below were empty and still. The only sound piercing the night was the clatter of an old-fashioned milk cart, the horse’s hooves beating out an unnatural cadence in the city night.

  Simon pulled back the curtain and looked down into the darkness, willing her slender silhouette to walk down the sidewalk. Not a soul was there. Slumping back into his chair, he absently felt for the gold watch in his pocket. The feel of the etched case under his fingers wasn’t as calming as it had been a few short days ago.

  He took a deep breath and tried to content himself with waiting. As the minutes grew into an hour, an uneasy sense of foreboding welled deep inside him. He should have protested her accompanying Lester on Charlie’s errand, but he knew it would have fallen on deaf ears, or worse yet, driven her further away.

  He’d been an absolute fool. He’d pushed her away and then idiotically wondered where she went. He should have gone after her tonight. The niggling voice in the back of his mind whispered his darkest fears. Was tonight the night his nightmares became reality?

  The room was empty without her. He was empty without her. He should have laid his heart out for her, but he’d run away. Simon pushed the chair back and stood. Time to bloody well stop running.

  He retraced the path he’d taken home—up Market Street and down Madison. He vaguely thought of calling Charlie at the bar, when he realized pay phones weren’t commonplace in the twenties. He rounded a corner when he heard a voice filtering up the street. He stopped for a moment and listened. There it was again. He crossed Madison and the sounds grew more distinct—a low guttural moan and a higher voice talking in hurried, anxious tones. His long legs quickened their stride and came to a sudden stop at the mouth of an alley.

  Lester lay on his back, and the small huddled form of Elizabeth bent over him.

  “Dear God,” Simon choked out.

  Elizabeth swung her head around at the sound. Her eyes were wide with fear and a trickle of blood on her forehead stood out in stark contrast to her pale skin.

  “Simon,” she gasped in relief. “How did you…” Her voice trailed off, and her expression changed. Her eyes hardened. “What are you doing here?”

  She turned back to Lester, who moaned and tried to lift his head. “It’s all right, Les.”

  Simon managed to get his legs to move again. It was all he could do not to take her into his arms. He knelt down next to her and tried to slow his thundering heart. “You’re hurt. What happened?”

  Ignoring him, she gently touched the side of Lester’s face, below the growing knot on his forehead. “How do you feel?”

  “Like I went twenty with Sullivan,” he croaked.

  He reached for his breast pocket and his thick brow furrowed when he found it empty. “Damn. You okay, Lizzy?”

  “Of course, she’s not,” Simon barked. “Look at her.”

  She glared at Simon before smiling back down at Lester. “I’m okay.”

  “What happened?” Simon asked, as she raised a shaky hand to her ashen face. She wasn’t all right, and he damn well wished she’d stop pretending she was. He helped Lester push himself into a sitting position, but his eyes never left Elizabeth.

  “Old-fashioned mugging,” she said in a tremulous voice that belied the flippancy of her words.

  Simon’s heart took another step into his throat as images of Elizabeth being thrown against the hard, brick wall flashed through his mind. “Mugged?”

  “Naw, they musta followed us,” Lester said.

  “Followed you?” Simon asked.

  “Musta known about the deposit,” Lester said as he tentatively felt the mouse growing on his forehead. “Charlie’s gonna skin me alive.”

  Elizabeth put a comforting hand on his arm. “Money can be replaced.”

  Lester laughed and then winced in regret. “Not this money, but I was talkin’ bout you. Charlie made me promise six days to Sunday I’d look out for ya.”

  Simon bit back the derisive comment that rolled on his tongue. He was in no position to cast stones; his glass house had shattered days ago.

  Lester leaned against the wall and managed to stand up. “You sure you’re okay?”

  “I’m fine,” she said and ignored Simon’s offer of help as she got to her feet.

  Lester shook his head and sighed. “Guess I better go face the music.” He looked at Simon and his dull eyes glinted in the lamplight. “You take care of her?”

  Simon didn’t trust his voice and simply nodded.

  Elizabeth took a shaky step toward the street. “We’ll walk you back.”

  Simon was at her side in a moment and held her elbow for support. Whether she liked it or not, he was going to help her.

  “Hell no,” Lester said. “It’s gonna be bad enough without him seein’ ya like that. I really am sorry, Lizzy. They came outta nowhere.”

  “It’s okay.”

  “It ain’t, but thanks,” he said sheepishly. Lester shook his head once to clear it and started down the street mumbling to himself.

  “We should follow him,” she said, taking an unsteady step forward.

  Simon gripped her arm more tightly and shook his head. “He’ll be all right.”

  “He was out for too long,” she said. “I should—”

  “Would you stop! Just stop for one
moment and let me take care of you!”

  She stared at him for a long moment in obvious shock. He saw a flicker of vulnerability cross her eyes, but she pushed it away. He’d seen it though, and it gave him hope. “Please,” he said softly. “Let me take you home.”

  “Home,” she said, and a near hysterical burst of laughter bubbled out of her throat. She glanced nervously around the darkened alley, and he felt her arm began to tremble. The trauma of the night finally caught up with her.

  “Elizabeth,” Simon said.

  She looked up at him, eyes bordering on tears.

  He slipped an arm around her back, and she nodded numbly.

  ~~~

  Once they were safely back in the apartment, Simon maneuvered her to the bed and piled pillows behind her. “I’ll get a cloth,” he said and disappeared into the bathroom.

  His hands shook as he turned on the cold tap. He glanced into the bedroom to reassure himself she was still there. She was, but it didn’t calm his pounding heart. He wet a washcloth and hurried back into the bedroom.

  Elizabeth’s head was tilted back against the headboard, her eyes closed. His heart clenched again. He’d come so close to losing her. He dragged a chair to the bedside, the sodden rag dripping in his hand as he leaned forward. “Do you need to go to hospital?”

  Elizabeth opened her eyes and shook head slowly. “Not that bad,” she said and reached up to touch her forehead.

  “Let me,” he said, holding out the cloth. He waited a moment before asking, “Are you going to tell me what happened?”

  “Mugged,” she said stonily. It was her turn to put up a wall. Was this what it felt like to be on the other side? Is this how she felt every time he shut her out?

  “They grabbed me,” she continued, closing her eyes briefly. “And I hit my head. I think I saw them. I’m not sure. It’s all a little fuzzy.”

  “It’s all right,” he said, then held up the washcloth. “May I?”

  She nodded and watched him warily, but he made sure to be gentle as he probed the wound. The cut was nestled below her hairline. It wasn’t very big, and the blood was already starting to congeal. He carefully wiped away the few dark, crimson lines that streaked her face. She hissed in a quick breath when he touched a particularly sore spot.

  He pulled his hands away quickly. “Sorry.”

  “Doesn’t matter,” she said.

  Simon rested his elbows on his knees and looked down at the soiled carpet at his feet. It did matter. If he could only find a way to tell her just how much. “I am sorry.”

  “You already said that.” Her voice was bitter and harsh. The tone, even more than the words, struck a chord in him. Wounded and lashing out. And it was all his doing.

  “I don’t mean…” he said and sighed in frustration. He simply couldn’t remain seated. He stood and walked to the far side of the room, tossing the bloody cloth onto the table. “I’m a fool.”

  Elizabeth folded her arms over her chest. “Go on.”

  “You have every reason in the world to hate me,” he said hoarsely. When she didn’t deny it, he felt his resolve weaken. There were so many things he wanted to say, needed to say, but he couldn’t find the words. He touched the back of his chair by the window and nearly fled into the safe confines of lonely misery it provided. The little, wooden chair had come to symbolize his retreat from life. Twice, he’d sought refuge there, hiding from his emotions, but it was a lost cause.

  Closing his eyes, the images from his nightmare flashed before him. He remembered the desolation he’d felt at the end of each dream, the unspeakable torment of watching her die. He’d never been more frightened in his life. Until tonight.

  “I understand if you choose not to forgive me,” he said slowly, unable to look at her. “I behaved abominably. It was a mistake.”

  “You said that too.”

  Simon turned to look at her, letting her rebuke find its mark. He nodded in acceptance and started to pace. Words drifted just beyond his reach, and he moved more quickly in a futile attempt to capture them.

  “I’ve never been good at expressing my feelings and, bloody hell, why should it be different now?” he said, exasperated.

  “No matter what I do, I can’t get a moment’s rest from thinking about you. You’re always there. Did you know that?” he said, accusing her. He put his fists on his hips and sighed. “Of course you didn’t. How would you? I could barely admit it to myself. Deny and rationalize. I’m a master at that, you know. Finding ways to mine misery out of pleasure.”

  She moved to sit on the edge of the bed, her hand fleetingly going to her forehead. “What is it you want, Simon? You want me to feel sorry for you?”

  “That isn’t what I want.”

  “Then you need to tell me what that is because I don’t have any idea. You’re scared. Who isn’t? You think I’m not? You think I wasn’t terrified tonight when…” Her voice trailed off and she clasped her hands in her lap.

  “If all this is about asking my forgiveness, we can cut to the chase. Consider yourself forgiven, and we can forget this ever happened.”

  “I can’t forget. And I don’t want to.”

  “So far this week is pretty high on my things to forget list. It’s not exactly filled with picture postcard memories.”

  “I take full responsibility for—”

  “Would you stop that,” she said, jumping to her feet and fighting for balance. “Not everything is about you. It’s so convenient to take too much on your shoulders, isn’t it? So when you collapse under the weight no one can blame you.”

  He whirled around to face her. “Do you think I wanted this? Do you think I wanted to hurt you?”

  “The results speak for themselves.”

  “No they don’t. The last thing in the world I wanted to do was hurt you. When you kissed me, I…I panicked. I’m not proud of it and I’m not trying to make excuses. You said that I’m a selfish man. Perhaps I am. For wanting things I can’t have,” he said and let out a deep breath. “For wanting you.”

  He stood there, raw and vulnerable for the longest moment of his life, before he turned away.

  “Don’t say that if you don’t mean it,” she said, her voice trembling.

  “I’ve never meant anything more in my life,” he said. “I don’t expect you to understand. God knows, I don’t. I’ve spent the better part of my life avoiding any sort of personal entanglement. But you, you’re…unavoidable. I tried. You have no idea the hours I spent trying not to think about you. Trying not to imagine what it would be like to hold you in my arms.”

  He forced himself to look into her eyes. “You absolutely terrify me. Whenever I’m with you it’s as though someone has reached inside my chest, until the pain is almost more than I can bear. And when I’m not with you, I’d give anything to feel that way again.”

  He heaved a deep sigh and continued. “Tonight when I saw you in the alley… I…No, it was before that. I know it doesn’t matter. I know you can’t possibly return my feelings after the way I’ve treated you,” he said and felt his courage failing. He turned away, unable to bear the rejection he knew he’d see in her face. “But I…I couldn’t go another day as I was.”

  The silence was oppressive. Slowly, he eased back around to face her. Her small hands were clenched tightly at her sides, eyes pleading. She was trying so hard to be strong, defying him to hurt her again.

  “And who are you now?” she asked.

  “A man hopelessly in love with you.”

  She closed the space between them, and his heart raced with each step. She stopped a few feet away and then slowly, beautifully, a smile came to her face.

  If he could only stop time, he would lock this moment away for eternity. Tentatively, he lifted his hand to her cheek, barely a caress, and gently pushed a stray lock of hair away from her face. He searched her eyes for any sign of resistance, but she leaned into his touch. Emboldened, he loosely cupped her face with the palm of his hand. He moved slowly, giving her eve
ry chance to pull away.

  His lips met hers in a tender kiss. Her hands came to rest on his chest and for a fleeting moment he feared she’d push him away, but her fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt and pulled him closer.

  Simon brought his other hand to her face, trying to convey his love and desire in every touch, to show her how precious she was to him. Finally, he could let himself out and let Elizabeth in. A world he’d only imagined, one he’d feared to even dream of, was born before his eyes. The impossible and unreachable had fallen into his hands. His heart still ached, but it was a sweet, beautiful pain.

  Somewhere in his life he’d lost his way and now he’d found it again in her kiss. A piece of a puzzle he didn’t know was missing slid into place. Supple lips pressed against his, caution forgotten in the sublime feel of her mouth upon his. Tentative at first, the kiss flourished with passion. He felt her nimble fingers brush against his throat and then move down his chest to unbutton his shirt. He wanted this so badly, wanted her more than he thought possible, but the last shreds of coherent thought clung to his brain. He had to be sure she wanted him. This had to be her decision. He pulled back breathlessly and looked at her. As much as it frightened him, she was the one in control.

  Elizabeth’s smile faltered. Afraid she might think he was pushing her away again, he gently ran his hands along her arms and took her hands in his. “Are you sure?” he asked.

  Her smile blossomed again; the love he’d been denying himself shone back. How had he possibly survived without it? Now that it was his, it was as much a part of him as breathing, and he would never let it go.