So Little Time

by Doreen Roberts

  And neither could she, Corie thought, with a shiver of apprehension. But that was something she’d worry about later. “Then please stop worrying about spending it now,” she said firmly. “Speaking of which, let’s find something to eat. I’m starving.”

  By the end of the day, they’d had their fill. Granger had enjoyed his first cheese steak, his first frozen banana, and probably his last foot-long hot dog, judging by his face when he ate it. The candy floss Corie bought for him intrigued him, and he’d declared it the best treat of the day.

  Arriving back at the house, he sank down on the couch with a satisfied sigh. “That was, without a doubt, the most fascinating, enjoyable day of my life.”

  Corie laughed down at him as he yawned. “You’ll probably sleep like a baby tonight. No bad dreams.”

  He looked up at her suddenly serious. “I haven’t had any dreams since I’ve been sharing your bed.”

  “I don’t think they were dreams.” She sat down next to him and leaned into him as he put his arm around her. “I think it was your memory struggling to repair itself after those heathens had done their best to destroy it.”

  He was silent for a moment, then said quietly, “Corie, I’m very concerned for your safety. After I leave, I mean. I’m afraid they might harm you in some way.”

  She tried to sound unconcerned when she answered him. “The scientists? No, I don’t think so. There would be too many questions asked. The worst thing they could do is fire me.”

  “But then you would be without work, or money to finish the house. How would you live?”

  Now was the time, she decided. There wasn’t going to be a better time. She took in a deep breath, then said casually, “I won’t need a job. Or the house.”

  She felt him tense at her side. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean I’m coming with you.”

  The pause seemed to go on forever. Then he sat up, and turned her to face him. “You can’t do that, Corie.”

  She stared into his eyes, striving to read his mind. Hoping he meant those words literally, she said quickly, “I don’t know for sure, but it should work. That’s if it works at all. But if we both stand inside the rays of the beam, we should either be zapped back to the past together, or at the very least we’ll both end up in the same place, wherever or whenever it is.”

  He didn’t answer her, but she could see the struggle going on in his eyes. Something told her she didn’t want to know what it was he was trying to tell her.

  “Of course,” she went on desperately, “it might not work at all, and neither of us will go anywhere.”

  “Corie...” He stopped, then started again. “It’s one thing to come here from there. Quite another to reverse the situation. I look around here—” he waved a hand around the room “—and I see nothing but improvement in the way you live, the way you eat, everything about your life.”

  He got up abruptly from the couch and crossed over to the fireplace. It seemed to be his favorite place when he needed to think. Once more he stood there, his arm on the mantelpiece, staring down into the empty grate.

  Corie wondered if he imagined the flames of a fire there, and why that particular image seemed to bring him comfort. He must have stared into a lot of fires in his life, both on the battlefield and off it.

  “If you went back with me,” he said, after another long pause, “life would be very different, in every way imaginable. You would not be able to do the work you do now. In fact, it would be extremely difficult for you to work at all. You would have to wear clothes that hamper your movement, cook food on wood stoves, travel miles in a horse-drawn vehicle to shop for food.”

  “I know,” Corie said quietly. “I’ve considered all that.”

  “There are no machines, no cars, no television. The only music you will hear is what you make yourself, unless you know someone else who can play a musical instrument. Your entertainment will be little more than reading, or the occasional barn dance or county fair. Certainly nothing remotely like the sights we’ve seen today.”

  Corie got up and went over to him. Placing her hand on his bowed shoulder, she said carefully, “Granger, I do know what it was like then. I’ve studied the period. I’ve seen pictures, I know what to expect. But what I’ll be doing is no more than the pioneers did then, when they left their comfortable homes behind and traveled for long, hard months in wagon trains to begin a new life.”

  He didn’t answer and she felt a knot of depression forming under her ribs. Afraid she was losing the argument, she added, “They faced untold hardships when they reached their destinations, if they ever reached them. But they believed in what they were doing, and they were willing to make sacrifices. I believe in what I want to do. I want to go with you. I have nothing here to keep me.”

  “Yes, you do.” His harsh voice made her jump. He turned to look at her, and his eyes were as cool as a frosty morning. “You have a life, a job you enjoy, a house you love, a future to look forward to. I can’t give you any of those things.”

  Her pride kicked in and she lifted her chin. “I’m not asking you to. I am independent, I can take care of myself.”

  “The battlefield is no place for a woman. That’s where you’d end up if we landed back at the same place.”

  She stared at him, wondering how she could make him see that nothing mattered to her except being with him. That as long as they were together, they could work out the problems somehow. He was just trying to protect her, she told herself. He was afraid for her.

  For a long time he met her gaze, then his face softened. “Corie,” he said gently. “You must try to understand. I am a military man. It isn’t just a job to me, it’s a way of life. It’s what I am. It would be hard enough for you to adjust to that life even if I was with you all the time. But you would be alone, and unprepared for the hardships you would face. I can’t let you go.”

  He was right. Deep down she knew he was right. But part of her didn’t want him to be practical. Part of her wanted him to beg her to go with him, wanted him to tell her he couldn’t live without her, as surely as she knew she could never be happy without him.

  But then he had never told her he loved her. Neither of them had talked about love. Perhaps the distance between them was much more than a matter of time. At least in his eyes.

  Swallowing past the lump in her throat, she managed to keep her voice steady as she answered him. “It’s all right, Granger, I understand. And you are right. It would be very stupid of me to leave all this. It really is a pretty good life.”

  Turning away from him, she blinked back a threatening tear. “Don’t worry about me getting into trouble. If they find out what I did and tackle me about it, I’ll just pretend I have no idea what they’re talking about. They can’t prove I had anything to do with it.”

  He moved swiftly, coming up behind her to pull her into his arms. His kiss was long and sweet, and it seemed as if things were good between them again. But she was aware now of an underlying tension that hadn’t been there before, and she knew he felt it, too.

  Lying in his arms that night, long after he’d fallen asleep, she felt the full force of the pain that would be with her as long as she lived. These precious hours were all she would ever have of him. And the memories. The bittersweet memories that would haunt her throughout this life and beyond.

  * * *

  They worked together on the decorating the next day, not wanting to be out of each other’s sight, yet needing the work to keep their minds off the fast approaching moment they would have to part.

  On Monday morning, Corie left the house with an aching heart, knowing she still had two long days to get through at the lab before leaving for Gettysburg on the Wednesday morning.

  She planned to call in sick that morning, and take off the rest of the week. She would need the long weekend. She would have to get herself together enough to go back to work the following Monday, knowing that Granger would not be there waiting for her when she got home that night.r />
  That’s if she still had a job. Though she couldn’t help thinking that Granger’s fears were groundless. No one knew at this point that she had any idea Granger Deene existed.

  The memory of Helen Grant standing in the parking lot bothered her for no more than a moment. If Helen asked questions, she’d come up with some answers.

  * * *

  After dropping off the film at the camera store, she walked briskly to the lab, determined to put her worries behind her, at least for the day.

  It was halfway through the morning when she remembered Granger’s clothes. It didn’t seem likely that they would be there at her lab, more than likely they had been kept at the headquarters in Philadelphia.

  Still, she had promised to try to find them, and she would at least make the attempt, even though Granger didn’t want her taking risks. It would be the last thing she could do for him, always supposing her theory about Specturne worked.

  She tried not to think about the selfish part of her that wanted the plan to fail. Granger was right, history couldn’t be changed. He had to go back. What really hurt was the niggling suspicion that even it if hadn’t been so imperative for him to return, he would have made the same choice.

  As he kept telling her, he was an army man, and his duty and his life belonged to the cavalry. That was why no woman had ever held him, nor ever would.

  Impatient with herself, Corie left her desk and walked down to the lunchroom. Maybe coffee and a doughnut would help her banish her depressing thoughts, she told herself, as she entered the quiet room.

  Two men sat at a table in the corner, engaged in earnest discussion. Corie’s pulse jumped when she recognized Dr. Richards and Dr. Spencer. Their voices were lowered, and they were so engrossed in their conversation they didn’t see Corie walk into the room.

  Corie eyed the steaming cups of coffee on the table between them. It looked as if they had just sat down. That might give her enough time to check out their offices. If the clothes were anywhere, they would most likely be hanging in the personal closet in one of the offices.

  Silently, Corie turned and crept out of the room. Speeding down the hallway, she prayed no one would see her. She didn’t want to have to explain why she was snooping around the chief scientist’s office without his knowledge.

  Just in case Helen should be in there, Corie tapped on the door of Richards’s office. Receiving no answer, she opened the door and peeked in. The room was empty.

  Stepping inside, she closed the door behind her, then darted across to the closet in the corner of the room. Grasping the handle, she tried to turn it, letting out a grunt of frustration when she realized it was locked.

  If Richards hadn’t taken the key with him, it would most likely be in his desk drawer, she decided, crossing the room again. The drawer slid open silently, revealing its contents. A yellow pad, several pens, rubber bands, a worn eraser, paper clips, staples and two keys.

  Corie snatched them both up and darted across the floor again. The first key was too large for the lock, and it took her several precious seconds to exchange the keys and fit the second one. It slid inside the lock and turned.

  Holding her breath, she eased the door open. A raincoat hung in the closet, next to a propped up umbrella. That was all.

  Her hopes dashed, Corie cursed under her breath. She would have to look in Spencer’s office. She closed the door hurriedly, and locked it before returning the key to the drawer. She was halfway across the room when she heard the voices outside.

  “I’ll see you tonight, then,” Spencer’s gruff voice said from the other side of the door.

  “Midnight, no later,” Richards answered.

  Corie sent a wild glance around the room, trying frantically to think of a good excuse for being in the office. She could see no way to avoid being seen. Her only chance was to bluff her way out. And Dr. Boyd Richards did not fool easily.

  Swallowing hard, she stood by the desk and tried her damnedest not to look guilty as the door opened and Richards’s gaunt figure stalked into the room.

  His start of surprise at seeing her was comical, and Corie felt a crazy urge to laugh. Suppressing the nervous impulse, she said brightly, “Oh, there you are, Dr. Richards. I got a message to come to your office, but you weren’t here, so I thought I’d wait.”

  “A message?” His eyes narrowed as he stared at her. “Who gave you the message?”

  “I don’t really know. It came up on my computer.” She stared up at him with what she hoped was an innocent expression. “You mean you didn’t send me a message?”

  “I most certainly did not.”

  Edging past him toward the door, Corie shrugged. “Either someone’s playing games, or the message was sent to the wrong person. That’s the problem with computers, it’s so easy to key in the wrong code.”

  She flashed him a quick smile, her heart skipping when he continued to stare at her with a suspicious frown. “Well, that was a complete waste of my time. Just when I have loads of work to get through. I’m sorry to have bothered you, Dr. Richards. I’ll get back to my desk now.”

  Before he could answer, she slipped out of the room and flew down the hallway to her office. Once inside she flopped down on her chair, holding a hand over her pounding heart. That was close. Too close.

  It might be better to forget about finding Granger’s clothes. In any case, it would be difficult carrying them out of the building, even if she did manage to find them. Granger would just have to go in modern clothes. Hopefully she could find an outfit in a thrift store that would work. From what he had told her, the jeans and flannel shirt he’d been wearing as a disguise should be easy to duplicate.

  The ache spread quickly, so intense she wrapped her arms around her body in an attempt to ease it. Someday, she told herself, all this would seem like a dream. Someday it would stop hurting.

  At least, for now, she had the comfort of knowing she still had some time with him. A few more precious hours into which she would have to cram a lifetime of loving. The thought did little to cheer her.

  The hours seemed to creep by that afternoon, and more than once she found herself staring aimlessly at the clock, instead of concentrating on her work. Somehow the fascination had gone out of it, and she wondered if she would ever feel the same about her job.

  Every time she saw a mention of Specturne in the future, or any other wayward star for that matter, she would think of Granger, and wonder how he was doing.

  There was another possibility that she hadn’t allowed herself to think about as yet. But she had to face it sooner or later.

  The Battle of Gettysburg was the bloodiest and most costly battle of the Civil War. It was entirely possible that Granger might not survive the fighting. Or even if he did, he might not survive the war.

  And she would never know. That made it worse, the not knowing. If she knew for certain he was dead, she could mourn for him, and then close her mind forever to the chance of ever seeing him again.

  But not knowing what had happened to him, whether he had lived or died, without the comfort of knowing he was reasonably happy, safe and well, that was going to be the hardest part to bear.

  But, she told herself grimly, as she cleared her desk for the day, bear it she must. Corie had no choice but to go on without him. And she would not spoil her last few hours with him moping over what might have been.

  Granger was eagerly waiting for her when she got back to the house later. No sooner was she inside the door, with it firmly closed behind her, than he pulled her into his arms and kissed her hungrily, his body already eager for her.

  Corie closed her mind to the dismal thoughts that had plagued her all day, and clung to him with a fervor that matched his own.

  “God, how I missed you today,” he whispered in her hair, as he led her down the hallway with his arm around her. “I managed to get a great deal of work done, though. It was the only way I could keep my mind from dwelling on you.”

  “I’m glad someone did,” Cor
ie said, laughing up at him. “I didn’t get a stick of work done. I just couldn’t concentrate.”

  He paused in the doorway to the living room, his hands on her shoulders. Looking down at her with a grave expression, he asked quietly, “Are you all right?”

  She nodded, fighting back the unexpected tears that threatened. “Of course I am. And I’m hungry. I’ll feel a good deal better when we’ve eaten.”

  “Can we order in some pizza?”

  She burst out laughing. “Oh, Granger, how I’m corrupting you. What kind of food are you used to eating?”

  He shrugged, following her into the living room. “Mostly chicken or beef stews, when I’m in town. We don’t get much meat on the battlefield...strips of dried beef, the occasional slice of salted ham...lots of beans. Never in my life have I eaten the kind of food I’ve enjoyed here.”

  Corie shook her head. “No wonder you like my cooking. Anything would taste good after that diet.”

  “No, not anything.” He stood in front of her, his finger tracing down her cheek. “No one has ever prepared a meal for me with such loving care as you do, my sweet Corie.”

  “Well, I can’t be doing that great a job, since you prefer to order in pizza than eat my lovingly prepared dinner.”

  He bent his head and left a lingering kiss on her mouth. “I was simply trying to save you work. You look tired.”

  She smiled up at him, warmed by his concern. “I’ll make a deal. We order pizza tonight, and tomorrow, our last night here in this house, I’ll cook you a dinner that will knock your socks off.”

  His eyes lit up. “That, sweet lady, is a deal. Now come with me, I want to show you what I’ve accomplished today.”

  He led her upstairs, then made her close her eyes while he led her into the bedroom. “All right, you can look now,” he told her, after turning her to face in the right direction.

  She opened her eyes, crying out when she saw the finished room. It looked far better than she had ever envisioned. Tiny yellow roses tumbled down the walls in even stripes, while pale green ferns twisted lovingly between them. A golden frieze bordered the walls below the pale green ceiling.