A Time of Shadows (Out of Time #8)

by Monique Martin

  He drew back in shock. “Paddling? For God’s sake, you don’t mean I…?”

  She smiled then and shook her head. “Figure of speech.”

  “Thank God,” he said and then looked down at his feet, shrugged and smiled. “One time dispensation?”

  She almost smiled again, but just nodded, and then leaned her head back against her knees. She was already small for her age and all curled like that, she was barely a whisper.

  He lifted his arm over her and held out the other. “Come here.”

  Her lower lip trembled just a bit and then she scooted closer to him. He wrapped his right arm around her, pulling her close.

  She looked up at him with an amount of trust no man was worthy of. He almost said so, but then stopped and smiled down at her.

  “It will be all right,” he said softly, wishing it were so simple

  Her eyes searched his face and if she saw the lie in it, she didn’t say. Instead, she nodded thoughtfully and rested her head back against his chest.

  “Try to get some sleep,” he said.

  Her reply was soft and muffled. “You’ll stay?”

  “I will,” he said and kissed the top of her head. “I promise.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  A FLOCK OF SEAGULLS squawked overhead as they flew toward the sea. Their silhouettes cut in and out between the minarets of the Blue Mosque against the orange and red sky of sunset in Istanbul.

  As he and Tess walked down one of the cobblestone streets toward the cafe, Jack wasn’t the only one who noticed the birds. One of Istanbul’s many feral cats lifted its sleepy head and even stood. Jack had never seen so many wild cats in a city, and never so many that just lazed around as if they owned the place.

  The cats of Istanbul weren’t the typical strays that might be found in other cities. These weren’t afraid or furtive; they were well-fed, healthy and content. Jack had heard a legend that many years ago the Sultan had proclaimed them protected, and there was a proverb that anyone who killed a cat would have to build a mosque to be forgiven by God. Whatever the reason, the cats of Istanbul had the run of the place, and this particular one, roused from its afternoon nap, gave a great arched stretch and sauntered over to him. It wound its way through his legs, rubbing on him and hoping for a treat.

  Jack stopped and looked down at the tabby and saw his two cat friends appear on the sidewalk.

  “I don’t have anything for you,” he said, shaking his head.

  The cat rubbed his leg and he reached down to scratch its ears. “I’ll bring something back.”

  The cat purred and flicked its tale.

  “Hello there,” Tess said as she bent down to pet it, but the cat turned and hissed and she snatched her hand back.

  Jack was surprised at that. He’d never seen one of the cats do that before. “You must have startled him,” he said.

  Tess glared down at the cat who gave it right back.

  “I’m more of a dog person, anyway,” she said and tugged his arm. “Come on.”

  Jack laughed, reached down and gave his tabby one last rub behind the ears before they continued on their way.

  Cafe Meşale was a large open-air cafe situated between the Blue Mosque and a bazaar. It had dozens of tables with deep rich red table cloths. Covering two-thirds of the large space was a high tent-poled white awning. There was a small stage where a live band was just setting up for the evening.

  They passed by two old women wearing the traditional headscarves and baggy şalvar pants, sitting in a small alcove and making fresh flat bread.

  A waiter led them to one of the tables under cover, a sort of booth with cushioned benches and pillows.

  It was a relaxing and, if you went with it, authentic-feeling, as if you were a guest at a great party thrown by the sultan. Their waiter left them menus and disappeared before they could ask about the Wizard. The cafe crowd was large and, from what Jack could see, the staff was small.

  “Interesting place to do business,” Tess said, moving her menu to the side.

  And a smart one, Jack thought. Mixed in amongst the locals were plenty of tourists, and with them plenty of money. From the designer clothes to the garish watches, they were plump lambs to be fleeced.

  Tess looked casually around the restaurant. “Do you see anyone that might be him?”

  Jack scanned the room. At least half a dozen tables, small groups of men played backgammon while they drank Turkish tea and coffee. Others argued, punctuating each point with hand gestures. At still more tables, local men sat alone or in pairs and smoked sweet smelling tobacco from narghilés. The Wizard could be any one of them. He could even be the heavy-set man who gorged himself on a plate of meats and roasted peppers and ignored his two companions.

  “I don’t know,” Jack said. “But that looks good.”

  He gestured to a platter of food with a bowl of flaming something in the middle.

  “We’re not here for dinner, remember? We’re here—” Tess started and then stopped as their waiter reappeared.

  “You want?” he said impatiently.

  Tess leaned toward him. “We want to see the Wizard.”

  Despite himself, Jack chuckled at that.

  The waiter shook his head, not understanding, or at least feigning not understanding. Jack slid a fifty lira note onto the table. The waiter looked down at it, impassive until its twin joined it.

  With practiced nonchalance, the waiter pocketed the money. “He is not in.”

  Jack laughed out loud.

  Tess was not as amused. “You took our money.”

  The waiter shrugged. “And I gave you information.”

  “He’s got you there,” Jack said before turning back to the waiter. “Do you know when he will be?”

  The waiter shrugged again and shook his head before casting a quick glance toward the kitchen. “He is not so welcome here now.”

  “Do you know where we can find him?” Tess said.

  The waiter looked at her blankly.

  Jack slid another note onto the table. The waiter took the money and nodded. “Club Reina, tomorrow. Ask for Alabaş and—tetsi kebab for two, very good,” he added quickly as another staffer, probably a manager from the way he lingered, appeared nearby.

  Jack shrugged and handed the waiter his menu.

  Tess frowned. “I don’t even…Oh, all right,” she said, handing the waiter her menu. “And tea.”

  Jack held up two fingers, the waiter bowed and left.

  Tess watched him go and shook her head. “He took advantage of you.”

  Jack sat back. “Just making a living. And,” he added, “all of that cost us about sixty bucks. Now we not only know where to find him, but we have a contact. Pretty good deal, and not bad for three days in, I think. And now we can enjoy our evening.”

  Their tea arrived and Tess took a sip. She was clearly surprisingly pleased. She set it down carefully. “You’re not what I expected.”

  A whirling dervish show was just starting on the stage.

  “No?” he asked pulling his attention back to her. “What were you expecting?”

  “I don’t know, just someone more intense, I suppose. And, honestly,” she added with a smile, “someone who would have hit on me already. Your reputation precedes you.”

  Jack laughed. “Does it?”

  Despite his laughter, it surprised him. How would she know about his past? “Travers?”

  She nodded and smiled. “I told you he was a worrier.”

  “He’s afraid I might compromise your virtue?”

  She nodded and looked down, smiling fondly at the memory. “He was.”

  “And you?” Jack asked, leaning forward. “Are you afraid of that?”

  Looking up, she met his eyes, and smiled again. Although, it was an altogether different kind of smile. “No. Not afraid.”

  They held each other’s gaze for a long moment before the connection was broken as one of the dervishes had left the stage and was slowly twirling his way thr
ough the restaurant.

  Jack leaned back in his seat. Dinner had just gotten a lot more interesting.

  The dervish glided past their table. The tall felt canonical hat that sat on his head tilted slightly to the side, arms raised, he turned and turned, slowly moving forward in a hypnotic dance, or was it a trance? How the man didn’t fall over, Jack had no idea. The full white skirt of his robes billowed out in a perfect, ruffling wave as he floated past them.

  She watched him pass and then took another sip of tea. “So, have you spoken with the Crosses?”

  Jack nodded and frowned. “I’m worried about them. I know what we’re doing here is important, but…”

  “They’re important to you, too?”

  “I keep wondering if I should be there with them instead.” He looked down into his glass mug of tea. “Family comes first, right?”

  She nodded sadly, obviously remembering her father.

  “I’m sorry,” Jack said.

  She waved away his apology. “Do you miss yours? Your real family, I mean?”

  “Sometimes,” he said, feeling guilty that it was the truth. He’d left home when he was a teenager and hadn’t been back since. He knew his mother and brother were long gone now, but he could have gone back to see them, and hadn’t.

  “Sometimes you can’t go home again,” he said.

  She nodded, and there was a sadness in her eyes he hadn’t seen before. She looked away, and when she looked back it was gone.

  “But the Crosses are your family now?” Tess said.

  He nodded thoughtfully. They were that and more.

  “And now you’ve got a niece of sorts as well,” she said with a small smile. “Charlotte.”

  Jack smiled at that. He wished he could see how Cross dealt with a ten year old girl. And from the way she’d leapt into his arms and called him Uncle Jack, the niece idea wasn’t far off. It was a comforting thought.

  “Yeah.”

  The waiter arrived with their food, but it wasn’t the skewered meat he’d been expecting. Instead, it was a large terra-cotta jug. The waiter tapped on the neck with the flat end of a knife, turning the pot after each tap, until he broke the seal and removed the top. He ladled out what looked like lamb stew onto their plates, bowed and left.

  Tess pushed the steaming hot chunks of meat and vegetables around on her plate, trying to cool them.

  “Are the Crosses having any luck on their treasure hunt?”

  Jack frowned, remembering his conversation with them earlier. “Yeah. But they’ve found trouble. Company.”

  Tess took a small bite. “Good. The food, I mean, not the other. Do you know where they’re going next?”

  Jack shook his head. “They hadn’t gotten the latest clue when I talked to them.”

  She finished another bite. “You know them pretty well, you must have an idea. I’m sure they’ve told you all about their travels.”

  “I don’t know. This Teddy character’s unpredictable. The only thing I know is that whoever’s following them better keep their distance.”

  Tess arched an eyebrow.

  “If anything happens to them, there’s gonna be hell to pay.”

  “That’s very noble of you,” Tess said.

  “Nobility has very little to do with it,” he said and then shrugged. “I don’t have a lot of things I can count on in my life, but they’re two of them. And now the kid, too.”

  “I’m sure you’ll have a family of your own some day,” Tess said.

  Jack nodded and finished his tea. He hoped so, but these days he had his doubts.

  “How about a drink?” she asked.

  “They don’t serve alcohol here,” he said.

  “Well then, after. I think the hotel has a bar.”

  Jack smiled. “Are you trying to take advantage of me?”

  “Never,” she assured him with a smile.

  Jack leaned back in his seat. “That’s a pity.”

  She laughed and he joined her.

  “I like you, Miss Martel.”

  Tess raised her glass. “You’re not so bad yourself, Mr. Wells.”

  ~~~

  Not wanting to wake Charlotte, Simon and Elizabeth had pulled a few of the lawn chairs from the motel’s outside area and set them up in front of their room as they had morning coffee. Or what passed for coffee. It was really just warm brown water.

  Elizabeth put down her styrofoam cup and read the clue again. They’d read it last night and had come up with zero ideas. A bad night’s rest didn’t seem to have helped any.

  “A Valentine’s Day gift in July on a ridge that ran red.” Elizabeth shook her head. “I still got nothin’.”

  Simon sighed, took a sip of his coffee, made a face and tossed the contents onto the dying lawn next to his chair. “I don’t remember anything important about Valentine’s Day.”

  “Except your undying love for me?” Elizabeth said with a smile.

  “I’m serious, Elizabeth.”

  Poor Simon, the last of his good humor had disappeared between the stale donuts and the vending machine corn nuts.

  “Maybe it’s a code for something?”

  Simon sighed. “We went through that last night. I don’t see—”

  He trailed off as the door to their room opened and a sleepy Charlotte appeared, rubbing her eyes.

  “Good morning,” Elizabeth said to her.

  Charlotte nodded, still half asleep, and wandered over to Simon’s chair. She stood unsteadily in front of him and blinked slowly.

  He chuckled. “Not a morning person, I see.”

  She shook her head and then squinted up at the bright sky, stumbling back a bit. Simon reached out and steadied her.

  “What are you doing?” she asked between yawns.

  “Clue,” Elizabeth said, holding up the slip of paper. “We’re flummoxed.”

  “What does it say?”

  Elizabeth repeated the clue.

  “I don’t suppose you know what it means?” Simon asked.

  Charlotte nodded and smiled.

  Elizabeth sat forward in her chair. “What?”

  “Me.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  SIMON WAS STILL IN a state of shock as they turned off US-15 and headed toward the Visitor’s Center. It was mid-afternoon, a good five hours since Charlotte had so casually, again, turned his world upside-down.

  Her simple answer to the clue—me—had been followed by a stunned silence and then a barrage of questions. To her credit, and despite his protestations, Charlotte kept most of the details to herself. The details of future events were things better left unknown. But the questions plagued him.

  What sort of idiot, what sort of complete ass would let his child be born here? Here of all places? Of all times?

  They passed houses and a dozen other places that faded one into the next on the small two-lane road. The closer they got to their destination, the more unsettled he felt.

  He must have lost his mind, he realized. At some point in the future, it was clearly too much for him and, for reasons he could not fathom, he allowed his pregnant wife to travel back in time to this….

  The sign welcomed them and he felt a little sick. “Welcome to Gettysburg National Military Park.”

  Why on God’s green earth had his wife, his very pregnant wife traveled back to the Civil War and to this place, of all places? He turned off the rental car and looked at Elizabeth. She was smiling.

  “Why on earth are you smiling?” he asked, tartly.

  She turned to him. “Because this is where our daughter was born.”

  He turned to look at Charlotte in the backseat.

  “Don’t look at me,” she said. “I was just along for the ride.”

  Simon sighed and Charlotte pushed the bags of Wal-Mart clothing and snacks they’d purchased aside and unfastened her seatbelt.

  After they’d climbed out of the car, Simon paused. “I don’t see how this is possible.”

  Elizabeth took his hand. “Well,
Simon, when a man loves a woman—”

  “Very droll,” Simon said. “I’m sure whatever it was, it was your doing.”

  She made a wry face.

  “Not that,” he said. He gestured to the park. “This.”

  She grew serious. “It’s not the first place I’d choose to have a baby,” she said and then looked to Charlotte. “But you can’t argue with the results.”

  Simon had to smile. She was right about that.

  Ahead of them, Charlotte started up the drive toward the large grey Visitor’s Center building.

  “Don’t get too far ahead,” Elizabeth called out.

  She turned and walked backwards for a few steps. “Aren’t you excited?”

  “We are,” Elizabeth said as they caught up and took her hand.

  “But this place isn’t just about you, remember?” Simon said. “It’s a very important place for other reasons, as well.”

  Charlotte nodded. “I know. Dad made me read about it.”

  Simon felt suddenly guilty for that, for something he hadn’t even done…yet.

  She seemed to sense his discomfort and added quickly, “Not to be mean or anything, but just so that I’d know how it was and how lucky I am.”

  Instantly, his guilt turned to pride. Maybe he didn’t turn out to be such an ass after all.

  Despite it being mid-afternoon, the center was still busy with tourists. Simon’s knowledge of the Civil War, and of this battle in particular, was wafer thin. He’d studied some accounts of ghost sightings, but they’d all been fanciful at best. And when it came to knowing anything more than the slightest of details about the area, and those few days in July one hundred and fifty years ago, he was ignorant. Although, he realized, looking at his child as she read one of the plaques, that would obviously change.

  They stopped in front of a large map on the wall.

  “This is a big place,” Elizabeth said, stating the painfully obvious.

  The battlefield and environs covered over 11,000 acres of land, thousands of artifacts and dozens of buildings.

  “A Valentine’s Day gift in July,” Simon recited. “That much at least is clear.”