Time Trap

by Danele J Rotharmel

  “Twinkles,” Cavan said, “we’re out of time. Poppa will be transporting Wade soon.”

  A corny grin passed over the old woman’s face. “Before we go, is there anything you want to say to your f—that is—to Marc?”

  “There is one thing.” Cavan laughed and turned to Marc. “When your nine-year-old son lights fireworks in the church’s belfry, go easy on him. Remember that feminine wiles can be hard to resist—especially when they come in the form of lovely Deleena Ableman and her pocketful of Powder Cat jumping bugs.”

  Twinkles gave Cavan’s shoulder a swat. “Don’t malign my poor daughter! Jay was there too, and he always said that—”

  Cavan gave Twinkles’s cheek a quick peck. “You shouldn’t believe everything you hear. Jay’s the one who bought the fireworks.”

  As Twinkles gasped, Cavan smiled at Marc. “It was good to meet you, but I’m afraid I’ve gotta run.”

  Marc scratched his head as Cavan vanished through the portal. “Who was he?”

  Twinkles rolled her eyes. “Definitely not the brightest bulb—but awfully nice anyway.”

  “Look,” Marc said. “I think I should go to Phoenix to be with Wade. He—”

  “Merciful heavens, there’s no need of that! Phoenix is Wade’s hometown. He’s gonna be surrounded by support. Besides, Poppa’s NewGen Crew will be looking after him and his family. You’d just be in the way, and you’re needed here. This is your golden summer, you know. This is the summer where everything changes.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  Twinkles gave his cheek a pat. “I know, but never mind. Go to the lake and fish. You can’t help with TEMCO’s current crisis, but before the summer’s over, you’ll be needed again.”

  Marc gave Twinkles a startled look. “What current crisis? Is something going on besides the attack on Wade? I thought he’d been mugged.”

  “What’s going on doesn’t concern you at the moment. Like I said, go fish.”

  “Does Crystal know what’s happening?”

  Twinkles nodded. “But she’s observing standard emergency protocol—she can’t talk about it. Everything will be all right as long as everyone does what they’re told, and you’re being told to go to the lake until you hear otherwise.”

  “But if there’s a problem at TEMCO, going fishing doesn’t make sense.”

  “It doesn’t have to. All you need to know is that Crystal’s waiting on the curb for a taxi, and she’s hoping desperately that you’ll come down in time to say goodbye—not that she’d ever admit it, of course.” Twinkles gave him a firm push toward the door. “Go on! Shoo! You’re gonna miss her if you don’t hurry up!”

  Not exactly sure why he was running, Marc hurried out the door. Looking over his shoulder, he saw Twinkles going through the portal just before it swirled away.

  * * *

  “So, what’s next on the list?” Gil asked, lying back on her pillows.

  Nicki blushed and mumbled, “I want a boyfriend.”

  “That’s natural.” Sue laughed. “I’ll tell you what my mother told me when I was your age, look for a boy with Jesus eyes. Don’t be fooled by good looks and fancy cars. See if a boy’s eyes reflect kindness, decency, and respect.”

  “Can the boy be cute too?”

  “Of course, but looks aren’t the only thing that matters.” Sue’s voice softened. “I met my first husband, Bill, when we were in high school. Billy wasn’t very good looking, but the more I knew him, the handsomer he got. If I’d been looking for a slick-talking boy with a nice car, I’d have overlooked Billy completely. He was a good man, and I was very sad when he died.”

  “What about Sam?” Nicki asked, nibbling her sandwich. “He’s handsome.”

  “Yes, he is,” Sue replied. “But the thing I appreciate the most about Sam is his kindness. He always puts my needs ahead of his own, and he always treats me with respect.”

  Nicki looked at Gil. “Dan’s awfully handsome—I bet you thought so when you met him.”

  Gil’s eyes twinkled. Taking a snapshot from her purse, she asked, “What do you think?”

  Nicki gasped with laughter. “For goodness sake, what’s on his face?”

  “That hairy monstrosity was Dan’s beard. It was so atrocious that for a while it blocked my view into what a marvelous man he was. But one day, I was sitting in class—Dan was my professor, you know—and I shut my eyes so I couldn’t see his horrible beard, and I listened to his voice instead. It was soft as melting butter, and it made me go all gooey inside. Dan thought I was falling asleep, so he dropped a book on my desk. I jumped and looked into his gorgeous ‘Jesus-like’ eyes and wondered how I’d missed them.”

  “But didn’t his beard throw you? I mean, you couldn’t see half his face.”

  “Honey”—Gil laughed—“the good looks concealed by that horrible beard were just a big fat bonus. By the time Dan shaved, I was so in love that he could’ve had a receding chin, a wart with hair, and a crazy tattoo, and I simply wouldn’t have cared. I loved him for who he was and not just for what he looked like.” Gil smiled. “Besides, he had other physical attributes that were pretty spectacular. You should see that man’s hunky body when he’s in swimming trunks—yummy!”

  * * *

  Hurrying across the sidewalk, Marc tapped Crystal’s shoulder. She turned around, smiled widely, and tripped over her feet. Marc grabbed her arm to steady her.

  “I’ve called a cab,” she said awkwardly, pushing at her glasses. “It should be here soon.”

  “I could run you home if you like,” Marc offered.

  She shook her head. “I’m fine.”

  Silence fell.

  Marc nervously cracked his knuckles. “Thanks for not giving up on Wade. He wouldn’t have survived another day.”

  “Everyone deserves a second chance.”

  “Even me?”

  Crystal blushed and nodded slowly.

  “Are you ready to be friends yet?”

  “Almost,” she whispered, lowering her eyes.

  Marc smiled. Before he could reply, Crystal’s cab pulled up to the curb. Holding the door open for her, he said gently, “Have a good summer, Cris.”

  “You too. I hope you catch a twenty-pounder and eat all the fish you can hold.”

  Marc laughed. As the cab pulled away, he realized Crystal’s sweater was caught in the door and flapping in the wind, but what held his attention the most was the fact that she was waving at him and smiling.

  * * *

  “It sounds like the women are having fun,” Sam said to his son as he heard gales of laughter coming from Gil’s room.

  Nodding, Dan held his baby closer to his chest. “I hope they don’t wake Jay. I thought we’d never get him to sleep.”

  “Poor little tyke,” Sam murmured, stabilizing the diaper bag’s strap on his shoulder. “Colic isn’t fun. When she was a baby, Angelina had a terrible case of it—but she had worse trouble when it came to teething.”

  “Something for me to look forward to, eh?” Dan groaned.

  “Just wait until it’s time for potty training. Alex got it in his head that the baptismal tank was a giant toilet, and he dropped his trousers and let it rip before your mother could catch him.”

  “I’d forgotten about that.” Dan snickered. “But I do have vivid memories about Alex and the neighbor’s koi pond. Mrs. Walkerton was shocked when she realized why her fish were dying.”

  Sam rolled his eyes. “We were all shocked. Of all you kids, Alex was the most incorrigible. I had a dickens of a time keeping pants on the little nudist.”

  Dan gave a quiet laugh. “That’s pretty hilarious considering how modest Alex is now. Last summer, he blushed his way through the Roman Sculpture Court when Gil and I took him to the Metropolitan Museum of Art. It was a hoot watching him shuffle through the exhibit staring at his shoes. Gil was practically dying. She kept asking him what he thought of the sculptures.”

  Sam opened Gil’s door and heard another gale of laught
er coming from within. “Shh!” he warned the giggling ladies as Dan laid Jay in the bassinet.

  Across the room, Gil motioned to her husband and whispered, “We’re having some interesting girl talk, and I want your input. When did you first know you loved me?”

  Dan kissed Gil’s forehead. “That’s easy. It was when you were talking about Miss America and wondering if you could still enter the pageant with a broken nose.”

  Gil gurgled and slapped his shoulder. “No, it wasn’t! You were ten years old. You couldn’t have fallen in love with me then.”

  Smiling, Dan gently tucked a blanket beneath her chin. “I beg to differ.”

  “Okay then, when I was your student, what attracted you to me?”

  “Your zest for life,” Dan replied, sitting on her bed. “It was the way you jumped into every situation without looking—just like you were jumping into the middle of a great, big puddle. You’d splash into the puddle, blink your big beautiful eyes, and wonder how you’d gotten there.”

  Gil laughed and pulled his head down for a kiss.

  Patting the chair beside her, Sue motioned for Sam. “How about you?” she asked. “When did you know you loved me?”

  Sam sat down and put his arm around Sue’s shoulders. “It was the morning we took cups of coffee and watched the sunrise. The light of dawn got all tangled up in your hair.” He twirled one of Sue’s honey-colored locks around his fingers. “But really,” he said softly, “I knew you were my dream girl the night we first met.”

  “How romantic!” Nicki breathed.

  Gil tossed a teddy bear at the teenager. “Nicki, you’re such a lucky girl! Look at how many wonderful experiences are ahead of you! Knowing God on a deeper level, learning how to be a better artist, finding good friends, and finding love. You’re a lucky girl indeed!”

  Nicki paused and said thoughtfully, “You know, I think you may be right. I do have a lot to look forward to, don’t I?”

  * * *

  Inside the TEMCO lab, Zeke motioned for Thomas. “Look at this! GAP’s just indicated a one hundred percent probability factor that Nicki Cunning isn’t going to commit suicide. In fact, it shows that she’s currently living in Washington D.C. and that her artwork is being shown at DC Gallery 180. There’ll be a special exhibition of her paintings this Saturday night.”

  Thomas smiled. “Excellent! I knew the Ableman clan would take care of her.”

  Suddenly, a Wave Trapper portal swirled up and filled the doorway. Raising his brows, Zeke asked, “Were you expecting a visit from Poppa?”

  Thomas shook his head as Twinkles stepped through the portal.

  “It’s good to see you, Twinkles,” Zeke said, rising from his chair. “Do you bring news?”

  “Yes, dear,” she replied. “Marc and Crystal just found Wade Kingston. He’s been assaulted and is in critical condition. Poppa’s taken him to a special trauma center in Phoenix.”

  Zeke felt shock rolling over him. “Do you need someone to be with Jill?”

  “She’ll be fine. Poppa’s taking care of things.”

  Thomas grabbed the phone. “I need to call Dan. Things are getting out of hand.”

  “Stop!” Twinkles ordered. “If you do that, it’ll cause a Time Tsunami. Dan and Gil need to be left out of the loop for now.”

  “But Dan’s the boss. He needs informed that—”

  “No!” Twinkles exclaimed. “If Dan gets involved, things will spiral out of control. Poppa’s orders are to stay silent and help Peter and Laura.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  The following morning, as Peter entered the kitchen, Laura greeted him with a bright smile and a cup of hot coffee. He took a sip gratefully—he really needed it. He’d spent much of the night tossing and turning, and when he’d finally fallen asleep, he had intoxicating dreams about sailing across an ocean made of auburn waves cut from Laura’s hair.

  As Laura poured herself a glass of juice, he glanced at her over the rim of his cup. To his disappointment, her magnificent hair was pulled back in a bun, but she was in her bare feet. He grinned. Her toes were adorable.

  Rubbing a hand over his unshaven chin, he said, “Laura, in the middle of the night, I came up with a wild theory, and I want your opinion.”

  “Lay it on me,” she replied, sipping her juice.

  “‘The truth shall set you free,’is found in John 8:32. ‘God helps them that help themselves,’was said by Benjamin Franklin. When you put them together, you get 832 Franklin. Do you think there’s a church on 832 Franklin Avenue?”

  Laura blinked. “I don’t know. But if there is…” Pulling the phonebook toward her, she thumbed through the yellow pages and gave a crow of delight. “Peter, you’re amazing! If the church on Franklin Avenue has stained glass, we’ve found the location of our next clue.”

  * * *

  Alexander Ableman, Sam and Sue’s youngest son, walked slowly through the woods by his Colorado cabin. The aromatic scent of fir rose to meet him as he walked across a thick carpet of needles. As golden light filtered through swaying pines, he smiled and began humming beneath his breath.

  His golden retriever, Shep, frolicked happily by his side, carrying a stick in his mouth. Seeing the dog’s wagging tail and hopeful looks, Alex chuckled and tossed the stick down the path. While Shep raced after it, Alex thought about the call he’d received from his brother. He was grateful to hear that Gil was finally holding her own. He knew the painting he’d sent would bring much needed laughter, and he hoped his flowers would show his love, but he couldn’t wait to actually see his brother and sister-in-law. He had a deadline to meet, but once he sent his latest manuscript to his editor, he’d fly to D.C. and meet his new nephew. He chuckled softly. Maybe he’d take another painting.

  Arriving at the stream bordering his property, Alex sat on a boulder and opened his Bible. Shep flopped down next to him and started gnawing the end of his stick. Alex ran a gentle hand over the dog’s ears and looked at the sunshine sparkling on the water. As God’s peace enveloped him, he felt called to pray for an unknown woman. The gnawing, persistent burden was one he’d felt many times over the last several days. He didn’t know who the woman was—or where she was. All he knew was she was engulfed in pain and her plight was serious. As was his practice, he prayed for light to illuminate her darkness, for God to give her strength, and most of all, for her deliverance.

  * * *

  As her attacker approached, Phoebe remained motionless and continued staring at the speck of light in the darkness. She’d stopped living in the present moment and was locked inside her own memories—happy memories where no evil could touch her. The beatings no longer held terror—they were just calls to endurance. But inside, a warning bell was ringing in her head. She knew her body was losing its battle for survival.

  * * *

  Looking for a clue to Phoebe’s location, Laura rummaged through the bushes outside Saint Jude Thaddeus Catholic Church on 832 Franklin Avenue. The church had a dozen stained glass windows, and they were all so lovely they took her breath. She glanced at Peter and smothered a smile—he had a couple of leaves stuck in his hair that were standing up like little kangaroo ears.

  “Find anything?” he asked, peering behind a snowball bush.

  Shaking her head, she held the photo up to another window. The colors didn’t match. “I don’t want to give up yet,” she said. “We still have several windows to go.”

  She worked her way through the bushes to the next window. It depicted Satan sitting in the flames of Hell as he gathered the souls of the damned. She clutched Peter’s arm—the blurry swirls of red, orange, and black matched the colors of the photograph.

  “Hell fire,” Peter muttered. “That’s appropriate.”

  “Let’s see if we can find the next clue,” Laura said, kneeling in the flowerbed to inspect the stonework below the window.

  Standing on his tiptoes, Peter examined the window ledge. “Nothing,” he muttered in a disgusted voice. “Maybe it’s inside.”


  Peter took her hand and helped her to her feet. “Stay still for a sec,” he said, brushing the soil from the knees of her jeans. “You’ve picked up some mud.”

  Putting her hand on his shoulder, Laura studied his bent head. When he finished brushing her off, she tried to thank him, but for some reason her voice felt trapped in her throat. She plucked the leaves from his hair and watched as he started to grin.

  Together, they walked across the lawn and entered the church through its open doors. When she stepped inside, Laura sighed. A palpable feeling of God’s presence filled the air.

  Peter went over to a statue of St. Jude Thaddeus and read its plaque. “Look at this!” he exclaimed, beckoning her to his side. “Saint Jude Thaddeus is the patron saint of lost causes. I think Phoebe’s kidnapper is toying with us again.”

  Laura nodded. “It also says that Saint Jude Thaddeus was beaten to death. The last photo said we’re running out of time. We need to get our clue and find Phoebe before it’s too late!”

  Peter squeezed her hand. Together, they walked down a hallway splintered with color until they arrived at the stained glass window depicting Hell. Beneath it was a Bible on a wooden stand.

  Laura contemplated the window with narrowed eyes. After a moment of thought, she opened the Bible to Revelation 20:15 and read, And if anyone’s name was not found written in the Book of Life, he was thrown into the lake of fire. At the bottom of the page was written, 21-26-1-1 / 24-22-25 / 21-19-1-6 / 26-14-23-22 / 3-24 / 5-19-8-1-22-8. Below the first line of numbers was a second, 33-34-35-38-39-40 / 1-3-21-22-10-12-6 / 25-26-27-28.

  * * *

  In Washington D.C., Marc merged his sports car onto the freeway. He knew he should be excited about his trip, but truthfully, he wished he were staying in town. He was curious about what was going on at TEMCO, and besides that, he’d spent years trying to win Crystal’s friendship—it seemed stupid to leave when things were starting to look promising.

  He rolled his eyes. If he called a simple smile promising, he was getting pretty desperate. He had all kinds of girls waiting to catch his eye. He didn’t know why he was so fixated on Crystal. She wasn’t pretty, or stylish, or flirty. Truthfully, she was just plain weird. He shrugged. Weird or not, she was one of a kind and he couldn’t seem to get her off his mind.