Waking in Time

by Angie Stanton

  “Sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you. Did you lose a family member?”

  “No. At least not that I know of, but I lost friends.”

  “What do you mean, not that you know of?”

  “I was raised in an orphanage,” he says, matter of fact. “I don’t know anything about my family.”

  “Seriously?” I’m not sure orphanages even exist in my time.

  “Yes. In Chicago. But not to worry. I have a family of my own now.” He guides us to the food line at the Rathskeller.

  “Are your parents, ah… dead?”

  He shrugs. “I don’t know.” He orders two lemonades and pays. “It used to bother me, but I don’t dwell on it anymore.”

  “Wow.” I’m not sure how to respond. Growing up without my dad was really hard, but at least I had Mom and Grandma. Professor Smith lived his whole childhood without any family at all.

  He collects our glasses, hands me one, and guides us out onto the terrace, to a table under a large shade tree to ward off the heat. While not quite as large as the expanded Union Terrace I know, it still holds the charm and festive atmosphere. There’s no outdoor food stand, but a different version of the sunburst chairs are still here. Gone are the tiered stairs to the water, but there’s a pier with a few brave souls showing off their pale skin in hideous swimsuits with thick straps and low-cut legs. There’s a huge beautiful boathouse set between the Red Gym and the lake. It has a round turret on the corner, and piers that stretch far out over the water.

  “So, tell me more details that might give me clues to your”—the professor pauses. He glances around at the people nearby and seems to change his wording—“strange situation.” He reaches into his briefcase and pulls out a notebook and pen.

  “After we met in 1970, you said—”

  The professor frowns and holds up his hand to stop me from going on.

  “What?”

  “It’s best if you don’t tell me about our interactions in the future. Stick to the facts related to your skips in time,” he says quietly so his words aren’t overheard.

  I huff. “Fine. But maybe you get Alzheimer’s in the future.” I stare out at the lake and see a couple of long skinny boats being rowed by a bunch of guys.

  “What is Alzheimer’s?” he asks, then quickly catches himself. “Never mind. Better that I don’t know.” He drinks his lemonade, downing half the glass as if it’s hard liquor and he needs to numb his senses.

  “I’ve traveled three times in the past few days and this is the second time I’ve met you. What do you think that means?”

  “I’ve given that a great deal of thought over the years. My best theory is that you’re traveling in a parallel universe with magnetic pulls that have drawn us together.”

  “English, please.”

  “I believe that I’m supposed to help you manage your, er, talent.”

  “It’s hardly a talent. I have no control over it. I don’t get to choose where I go, and I have no idea how to get home.” I pause, looking out at the shimmering lake. “Do I ever travel forward? Because, so far, I never have.”

  A flicker of something—resignation?—colors his eyes, and I have my answer. I sigh. “So it’s only backward. I can’t keep…” I break off, not trusting my voice. I focus on stirring my lemonade and doing everything in my power to contain the white-hot tears burning behind my eyes.

  “Tell me this,” I say, struggling to keep my composure. “How are you supposed to help me if you only know me in the past? When I met you before, I didn’t know what I should tell you that would help your search. If you haven’t solved my problem by then, how are you going to solve it now?”

  Now it’s the professor’s turn to mask his emotions. If I were him, that would be extremely bad news. He deflects my question. “Perhaps that’s what this visit in time is about—for you to give me some pertinent information that will help my future research.”

  I take a deep breath and tell him everything I can think of, leaving no stone unturned. Tables fill and empty around us as students come and go, and Professor Smith scribbles notes furiously, asking for clarifications, and nodding thoughtfully as the wheels spin in his mind.

  “Everything in my room is totally different, except my bed. Whatever’s on it seems to travel with me, but anything on the floor or on my nightstand is gone. I wake up and find new things from whatever year I’ve landed in. And everyone around me seems to think nothing of it. It’s as if to them, I was always there.”

  “Parallel universes,” Professor Smith murmurs softly as he keeps writing.

  “Maybe I need to ask my roommates more questions?”

  He considers the idea, then shakes his head. “Tread carefully. You don’t want to tamper with the phenomena of time travel or cause mass hysteria. Not that anyone would believe you anyway. They might send you to the loony bin.”

  “I guess you’re right. So that makes you my only friend.” I smile weakly and draw patterns in the condensation on the side of my glass, watching as it collects and rolls down, creating a puddle on the table.

  He looks at me kindly. “You have other friends, but I need you to promise you won’t tell anyone about your… situation. I can’t stress this enough.” He pats my hand.

  Now my curiosity is sparked. “Why? Does something bad happen?”

  “Not at all and I want to keep it that way.” Professor Smith smiles again and says, “You’ll understand why when the time comes.” He’s keeping too much information from me again.

  “But what if I don’t? Why don’t you just tell me when that time might be?”

  He pinches his lips together and adjusts his glasses. “I can’t.”

  “That’s bull. Of course you can,” I snap, tired of his secrets.

  “No, Abbi. You’re going to have to trust me,” he says firmly, then glances at his wristwatch. “Darn it. I need to be going. I’m subbing in for the department chair’s graduate level class. We’ll have to meet this evening.”

  “No!” I grab his arm. The professor looks at me in surprise.

  “I’m sorry,” I say, releasing him. “It’s just that yesterday, you had to go and then I never saw you again. I shot back in time. If you leave now, what if I travel back before I can talk to you again? Wait! Do you know how long I’m here? Did I tell you?” My worries come out in a jumbled heap.

  “Abbi,” he replies calmly, “from what I know, you’ve never traveled during the light of day. If you travel before I see you again, then it’s meant to be, and possibly part of this phenomenon,” he says like a sage old prophet.

  “Now you’re leaving it all up to fate? That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard!” I throw my hands in the air. “I thought you were a scientist! You don’t really care.” The sting of tears builds behind my eyes again.

  “I care far more than you know,” he says in a fatherly tone that breaks through my fears.

  I want to trust him. I want to know he will help me, so I pull myself together and ask calmly, “When can I see you again?”

  “Soon.” He stands and pushes in his chair. “I’m going to request approval to see your dorm room. I think the secret must lie there.”

  “Let’s go now. I’ll show you myself.” I jump up and join him.

  “No, no.” He gestures me back to my seat. “That wouldn’t be appropriate or permitted. I must go through proper channels and contact the head of student housing.”

  I plop back into my chair. “That’s ridiculous.”

  “Perhaps to you, but this is how things work in 1961. It should only take me a couple of hours. I’ll rush the request as soon as I’m out of class. When I know something, I’ll leave a message for you at the front desk.” He drains his glass of lemonade. “In the meantime, why don’t you enjoy the terrace and take a walk. Perhaps it’ll help you recall something else.”

  I
don’t want him to leave me alone. Also, I need to warn him about the Sterling Hall bombing.

  “Professor?”

  “Yes?”

  “In August of 1970, promise me you’ll never work past midnight at Sterling Hall.”

  He frowns and shakes his head. “Abbi! I told you—”

  “I don’t care. You have to promise me.”

  A warm smile covers his face. “And you need to promise me to stop trying to meddle with time.”

  “But—”

  He holds out his hand. “Ut-ut.”

  “Fine,” I sigh, and he walks away.

  Finishing my lemonade alone on the terrace, I watch the activity over at the boathouse as the narrow crew boats glide up to the dock and a team of boisterous rowers climbs out. After unhooking oars that seem impossibly long, they work together to lift and carry the boat into the building. Their camaraderie is unmistakable even from this distance, further driving home just how alone I am.

  Miserable, I collect my empty glass and return to the Rathskeller dining room. The automatic doors are gone, but inside, not much has changed—the dim light of the room, the rich, dark wood, and the murals featuring German quotations and beer steins.

  But the students look so different. Some gather in groups, others are solo, leaning over thick textbooks. There are no cell phones, earbuds, or laptops. Many of the guys part their hair sharply, others have squared-off crew cuts. The girls with their red lipstick and colorful neck scarves clutch their books, giggling and whispering.

  I wish I could tell my friends about this day, but even in my own time, I’m not sure who my friends are. There’s Jada, who seems great, but I barely know her. Will I ever see her again? And there’s Colton. Would we have become friends if I had stayed? Most eighteen-year-olds don’t consider their grandma their friend, but I did. She would be alive now, probably living in Ohio. But calling her on the phone again is certainly out.

  I pull at my tight collar and loosen the top button.

  “Abbi!” an excited voice calls out.

  I turn to find a guy with scruffy, sandy-colored hair and a brilliant smile coming straight for me, and fast. I look around to see if he is talking to someone else, but there’s only me.

  Should I be glad or scared to discover that someone else in 1961 seems excited to see me? Maybe he’s like all the girls in my dorm, who seem to think I’ve always been here? Maybe we have a class together?

  Without warning, he scoops me into a hug, swings me around, and plants a long, passionate kiss on my lips.

  He-llo!

  CHAPTER 6

  The stranger grins, revealing an adorable dimple. “Abbi! I never thought it would happen. I mean I hoped so, I prayed for it, and you were right. Here you are, exactly when you said you’d be.” He flicks his head so a lock of hair sweeps to the side, and he can’t contain his infectious smile.

  I’m relieved that this tall, handsome guy seems to know me, but I’m stunned at his familiarity. Even so, I find myself smiling into deep blue eyes. His strong arms are wrapped comfortably around me as if that’s where they belong. My hands rest against his chest, where I feel his heart racing beneath his button-down shirt.

  “You look exactly the same.” He gazes at me as if I’m the most precious person on the planet.

  I don’t know how to respond, but as crazy as it sounds, I kind of like the feel of him. He’s lean and smells good, like the outdoors. He has a straight, narrow nose and feathery eyebrows that frame his expressive eyes. After a few awkward seconds, to which he seems totally oblivious, I find my voice. “I’m sorry, but how exactly do we know each other?”

  He immediately releases me. “Oh rats! Abbi, forgive me. I had it all planned out how I was going to approach you, but then got swept up in the moment and forgot that you haven’t met me yet.”

  My heart nearly ricochets out of my chest. Does this mean he knows I time travel?

  “Let’s get out of here.” Without asking, he takes my hand and leads me out of the Rathskeller. He obviously knows more about what’s going on than I do, so I follow, allowing myself a glimmer of hope.

  He takes me outside and down a narrow dirt path by the lakefront. He has an easy gait, as if he’s used to escorting girls who don’t know him. He finds a bench overlooking the water and brushes off bits of twigs and leaves. We sit, his body angled toward mine. A soft breeze from the lake blows his hair off his forehead.

  “My apologies. I’m handling this all wrong.” He holds up his trembling hand. “Look. I’m giddy as a racehorse.”

  For the first time I notice his nervous smile. “It’s okay,” I reassure him, boldly taking his long, tan fingers and giving them a reassuring squeeze. His smile relaxes, but his eyes stay glued to mine. “But, please, tell me how we know each other. When exactly did we meet?” I hold my breath, waiting for his answer.

  He hesitates, looking like he’s thinking back on fond memories. “I can’t tell you that. All I can say is that for me it was awhile ago, but for you—well—it’s still to come.”

  He’s confusing me, but he seems to be confirming that I will continue to travel back in time. I release my breath. “You know about… my traveling?”

  “I know all about it,” he says with a serious tone.

  “Did I tell you?” I ask tentatively.

  “Yes. You told me many things about the future.” He holds my gaze as if willing me to remember things that haven’t yet happened, but I have nothing to offer him. He continues, “I’m not sure how I would have managed without you. Every time I skip, it’s like being dropped in the cold lake. But you’ve helped me cope.”

  “Wait—you travel too? How long? Where have you been? When did we first meet?” I ask eagerly, desperate for answers. He smiles. His lips have a nice curve to them, and there’s that adorable dimple.

  “Whoa, Nellie, slow down,” he says, touching my cheek.

  He is completely comfortable with me, suggesting we really do have a shared past. But exactly what kind of past? “I’m sorry, but—wait a minute. Did you just call me Nellie?”

  “I did.” He laughs and his crystal blue eyes light up.

  I see how I might enjoy spending time with him. “You know my name is Abbi.”

  “I do.”

  “So who’s Nellie?”

  “She was my horse.”

  It takes me a second to catch on, but then I say, “You were trying to rein me in like a horse?”

  “You’re getting a tad jumpy.” His mouth twitches with humor.

  I shake my head. Great, he’s a comedian too. “I keep popping from one time to another with no rhyme or reason. You’d be jumpy too.”

  He runs his hand through the tall grass, picks a long, slender blade, and slips it into his mouth. With knowing eyes he says, “I understand.”

  “So, you know me from your past, and we’re good friends?”

  “Very good.” A devilish sparkle lights his eyes, and I wonder just how good he’s talking about.

  “You know everything about me, and yet I don’t even know your name?” I hate this feeling. It’s like I’ve woken up with amnesia.

  His eyes dim as if he’s wounded that I don’t remember him, but then he says in the sweetest low voice, “My name is Will.”

  “Hello, Will.” I let the sound of his name settle in. I have a friend in the past named Will, and he seems like a nice guy. A weight eases off my shoulders, and I breathe a little easier.

  “I’m Abbi. You already know that, but I feel better officially introducing myself.” I hold out my hand to shake his.

  He glances at my hand and then back to me and says with a mischievous grin, “Oh, we’re way past shaking.”

  I raise an eyebrow. Will dips his head sheepishly. “Abbi, I’ve missed you very much, and the thing is, we never had a chance to say goodbye.”

 
It’s my turn to smile. Do I let this adorable stranger kiss me again? He gazes at me with such devotion that I know we must have a history together. Why not? I think, and my stomach gives a flutter.

  Will pulls the blade of grass from his mouth and leans forward. With our faces a few inches apart, his breath warms my cheek. He tilts his head and ever so gently kisses me. His fingers glide along my jaw as his lips coax mine to respond, and they do.

  I can’t believe I’m letting him kiss me, but by the familiarity of his touch, and how perfectly our lips move together, I know this is far from the first time.

  Will reluctantly pulls away and lets the moment soak in. My eyes blink open as my pulse races.

  “Is this goodbye or hello?” I murmur.

  “Dear Lord, I hope it’s hello,” he says.

  “You’re not like the guys from my time.” My voice comes out in a whisper.

  “No. I suppose I’m not.” He slides the blade of grass back into his mouth. Dappled sunlight seeps through the leaves overhead, sprinkling warm light on his hair and face.

  I straighten my skirt and try to clear my head. “When exactly are you from?”

  His eyes cloud. “Nineteen twenty-seven.”

  My jaw drops. “Seriously? Wait, how is it that you’re traveling forward when I travel back?”

  He looks out over the vast expanse of the lake, as if searching for an answer that isn’t there. “If I had a nickel for every time I wondered that, I’d be a rich man. The God’s truth, I don’t know.”

  “Nineteen twenty-seven. That’s so long ago. No wonder you had a horse. Were cars even invented yet?”

  The corner of his mouth curls. “Yes, automobiles were common. My father owned a Model T, but we still used horsepower on the farm.”

  “Wow! You grew up on a farm… in the 1920s?” My mind is reeling. As hard as it is to move back in time, going forward must be even more difficult. At least I have the benefit of knowing some history to guide me. Will is traveling blind with no idea what he’ll encounter.

  “Please, Will. Tell me everything you can. Maybe it’ll help us figure this out. I’ve been totally lost ever since this started happening.”