The Rewind Series Boxset

by Jill Cooper

  Mr. Grayson escorts me into a room where I am asked to fill out and sign several forms. After a while, I get a visitor pass and attach it to my sweater. The lawyer and the guards exchange head nods, and Grayson signs his name. He rests his hand gently on my shoulder.

  “You sure you’re ready for this? If you’re having second thoughts …”

  I shake my head. “I’m ready.” I take a deep breath to steady myself. The door in front of me buzzes, and it’s opened by a police officer with a neck thicker than my waist. Apprehensive, I will my legs into the small room. Once I do, the door latches behind me.

  There are three chairs to choose from in front of a glass wall separating me from the prisoners. I take the third seat as instructed and wait for Dad to come in. My hands shake so bad that even squeezing them doesn’t quell them. The echo of a door snapping open and the grating of metal legs against the concrete floor draws my attention. I look up into the face of my father, weathered and older than the one I remember. His wavy brown hair is peppered with grey, and his face is covered by a thick beard, which I don’t like. It’s not my dad’s face. This is not the man I know and love.

  “Sugar bear?” he whispers, and the disbelief in his eyes cracks my soul. He might not look the same, he might be wafer thin, but his voice brings all my emotions rushing to the surface.

  “Dad,” I choke out, putting my hand to the glass.

  He places his fingers against mine, and I know he wants to touch me. I want to touch and hug him too. I’m so sorry for the mess I caused.

  “I can’t believe it. Fred sent me the message.” He shakes his head, his lips push together to keep the tears from falling. My dad never let me see him cry, but this man is different—broken of spirit. “I didn’t think you’d come. You said to stop sending you cards. That I was no longer your father—”

  The pain forces my eyes shut. “I said that.” My voice is so hushed I hope he can hear me. “I kept the last birthday card you sent me in my school locker.”

  His smile lights up his face as if I had given him the top prize. “Oh Lara, I’m glad. So glad.” It seems he’s seeing me for the first time, his eyes studying all aspects of me. “You’re beautiful. You look like your mom.” He chews on a finger. “I don’t know what to say. I don’t know what it’s like to have a grown daughter. I’m sorry.”

  “It’s not your fault. I just wanted to see you.” He nods in a slow, controlled way.

  I feel my presence is making him anxious, that he wants me to go away again. Why does everything have to be so hard? Can’t it go back to how it used to be?

  “I’m not allowed to ask about your mom, but I hope she’s well. You guys still happy with what’s his name?”

  My mind flashes to Jax’s smiling face while we sit across from each other over a Monopoly board. I nod to Dad, wiping goo from my nose. “Sure. Never better, I guess. I have a younger sister, a brother.”

  Dad nods. “I heard about that a few years ago. Your Mom told me.”

  Bells go off in my head. “Mom comes to see you?”

  Dad runs a hand through his hair. “No, nothing like that. Sometimes she would send a letter through her attorney. Nothing personal, and nothing from her. Just news.”

  He means threats. They’ve threatened him to stop trying to get in touch with us. We’ve moved on. There is nothing left for him with his old family.

  “So, how’s school?” Dad asks with a laugh.

  I try to smile. “Pretty good. I get good grades, have friends. Home life is okay. Mom works a lot.” I twist my lip, chewing the inside of my cheek. I know the questions I need to ask, but I don’t want to blurt them out.

  He avoids my references to home life. “You have a boyfriend?”

  “Did. I dumped him yesterday. He was a creep. After only one thing, like most guys, I guess.”

  Dad nods. “Good for you. School right now is most important. Keep at it.”

  “I will. How are you?”

  Dad shakes his head with a bitter sigh. He leans back in his chair and crosses his arms. The distance between us multiplies, and I sense his reluctance to share with me. “Tonight is mac and cheese night, and I am starting a new book from the library, so I guess everything’s swell.”

  Swell. Have I ever heard Dad say that before? Though mac and cheese was his favorite meal, especially Kraft instant dinner.

  “I read about what happened, with the parole and the stabbing. I’m sorry.” I take a deep breath and swallow, but my throat is as dry as sandpaper.

  His face flashes surprise.

  “I use the computer at the library. They try to protect me from everything, but I don’t let them.”

  Dad shifts in his seat as if he’s going to erupt with the question on his lips. “Lara.” He leans forward with his elbow on the counter between us. “Why are you here?”

  “I need you to tell me what happened. Fill in the blanks,” I whisper, glancing over my shoulder to make sure the guards aren’t loitering around too closely. “Someone shot at Mom, but I know you didn’t send them. So what happened after that?”

  Dad’s eyes flash with anger. “Why would you believe in me after all these years?”

  “Dad.” My eyes soften and grow wet as anger and spite fills his face. “There isn’t time to explain. I need to know. I deserve the truth, don’t I? You’re my father, and I want to know why you’re in here.”

  “Who sent you? Who put you up to this?”

  “No. One.” I meet his eyes, imploring him to believe in me, but as he pushes back his chair, I sense he’s further away than ever. He thinks I’m a traitor? I am a stranger, even if his blood does run in my veins.

  “I can’t talk about this. Not with you. Sorry.” Dad tilts his head back. “Guard!”

  “No,” I hiss and lean forward. “Daddy, what was Mom doing at the time agency before she died?”

  I blurt it out without thinking and want to fade away and die. Dad holds up his arm to the guard to give him more time. Great job, I’ve managed to spill my secret to two people now. I may as well take a bulletin out in the paper. I feel nothing but self-loathing for what I’ve done to Dad, Mom, and the world.

  “Lara,” he says softly, “why did you say died?”

  “I slipped,” I say as I lift my tear-ridden face off the table. “I meant … shot at.”

  “No. No, you didn’t.” Dad shakes his head slowly. “When they brought you to see me on your seventh birthday, what did I say to you?”

  My mouth falls open at the test. My eyes flitter about as I try to force a memory I don’t have. I blink and take a deep breath, allowing my chest to rise. I see dancing flames across a layer of icing, but I have no idea what year the image is from, and I see no faces. At this important time, I can’t draw a memory to save my life.

  I have to try, but I have nothing. I decide to throw out my best guess and hope it is the right answer. “That we’d be together one day.”

  His shoulders relax, and he uncrosses his arms. “And how’d you react?”

  Thinking back, a trail of blood oozes from my nose. I grab a tissue from my bag and use it to pinch my nose.

  My mind transports me back to being a scared little girl, crying into my pillow, begging for my dad. I can’t sleep. No one can because of my night terrors. Jax is sitting beside me to calm me down, but I thrash, scratching him with my fingernails as deep as I can, wishing he’d go away.

  “I cried.” My voice is hollow. “I had tantrums. Mom decided …” Tears stream down my face. “… seeing you was too traumatic for me. That’s when they cut you out.”

  Dad nods, his lips blubbering. “Guess there isn’t much to say, is there?”

  “Except for what Mom was working on. I need to know.”

  “Why?” he asks, wearing the question on his face.

  “Just humor me. Please, this once.”

  He stares at me. I try to push him in the right direction by adding, “Dad. Please.” My eyes are wide, pleading, and my mind wills him t
o answer.

  After what feels an eternity, he nods. “She landed a big contract and went to work for Rewind. She worked in R&D. In those days, time travel was barely understood and not for regular folks.”

  “She’s a scientist, then?”

  Dad nods. “She was working on some improvements to the time travel device, something that would allow parties to interact with the past without dying or going insane. She always said that effect was a bug in the system. It shouldn’t happen. She’s been trying to fix it for as long as I can remember.”

  The implications are huge. “So anyone could change the past?”

  “Only certain ones with higher privileges. Or something.”

  “Did she ever finish?”

  Dad shrugs. “I’m not big on current events. She’s your mom. Why don’t you ask her?”

  I decide that’s exactly what I need to do. “I heard on the news you were hurt.”

  His eyes cloud over, and he pushes his chair back. “I can’t talk to you about this. Sorry, Lara.”

  “Dad.” I sigh, intending to plead my case, but he signals for the guards.

  Our conversation is over.

  When they come for him, I do my best to keep a smile on my face. His hands are shackled together, and a chain runs down to his feet. He’s being treated like a terrorist instead of someone that failed at murdering his wife. I watch them escort him out of the room. There’s no way we’re done. I have to come back. I still have questions I need him to answer.

  I ask the lawyer to take me to see my mom. He drops me off at the door, and I enter the sterile hall. The place seems to be a typical office building. Receptionists at the front type on their keyboards, and the desks are made of polished mahogany. Behind them, a giant clock’s minute hand spins backwards.

  Music chirps like songbirds in the background, and off to the side is a waterfall where children gather to throw coins for making wishes. Across from that is a waiting area filled with magazines and books, where people fill out questionnaires.

  I bypass all of that and go straight to the elevators. No one bats an eye. They must have seen me before. I check the directory by the doors and see she’s on the top floor. My finger slams the up arrow, and I wait for the chime. Stepping inside, I hit the button for the top floor and wait for the stainless steel doors to slide shut. The elevator jerks beneath me as it begins its upward crawl, and I spend the moments trying to decide how I am going to play this. How will I get the information I need to know, and what is Mom going to do about it?

  The elevator dings, and two men in lab coats step inside. They are too busy talking to notice me. One of them makes sweeping gestures with his hand. “What are we going to do about this?”

  The other man shrugs. “What can we do? We need to extract those memories from Jenkins. He truly believes he spent the last five years in prison. His personality, everything about him has completely changed.”

  “He needs to be kept locked up.”

  “He is locked up,” the man says hotly. “This is Montgomery’s mess. She needs to clean it up.”

  My mom? My posture turns rigid.

  “If the board figures out what we did…We are supposed to store memories. Store, not swap them around. How the hell did this happen?”

  “It’s a kink. It’ll get worked out.”

  “Yeah, except now the man is jumping through time with no way to stop. What if he finds us? What if he kills us?”

  I can’t believe what I’m hearing or that they are talking about it in front of me. They are so worked up, they probably don’t even realize I’m here. If they are saying what I think they are, my mother created a serial killer and gave him the ability to leap through time off the grid so Rewind and the government can't keep track of him.

  That had all sorts of illegal written all over it. And stupid.

  The man snorts as the elevator stops. “She did it on purpose. I know it. And somehow I have to prove it.”

  “At least he’s in a coma. Thank God we were able to get that syringe before he leaped again.”

  “If we can keep him that way.”

  “If.”

  When the door opens, they leave and I go up the remaining floor by myself. I step out onto plush carpet. The walls are made of glass, and I am able to see into the conference rooms that line the hallway. The offices inside are small, with no windows and white doors. I study all the name plates until I find one with my mother’s name. Taking a deep, shaking breath I turn the door knob and push it open.

  Mom is bent over her computer, holding a phone to her ear. Her curled hair looks more tussled than ever, and she’s grabbing at it. She looks totally stressed out.

  “I’m on my way to the lab. Don’t do anything until I get there.” She hangs up the phone and looks up. The lines on her face increase tenfold. “Lara?”

  I step inside and close the door. “Sounds like you’re busy.”

  She rushes over to me and places a wrist on my forehead. “Are you sick again? What’s the matter, honey? Why aren’t you in school?”

  “I needed to see you. I miss you, Mom.” My chin quivers, and I chastise myself for being so emotional, but I didn’t break time travel law so she could work on some new feature for a stupid company.

  She gives me a sad smile and cradles my chin, giving it kisses. “Well, this is a first.” She hugs me, a good warm one, and I am crushed in the strength of her embrace. “I never thought I’d hear you say that again, you know that?”

  Resting my head on her shoulder, I want to tell her everything, but it’s too soon. “Maybe we can go for lunch?”

  Mom sighs. “Oh, honey. I have so much to do, and there’s a crisis in the lab.”

  “I went to see him,” I say in anger, almost to punish her for putting her work first. “I went to see Dad. In jail,” I add, in case she didn’t get where I was coming from.

  She did.

  Her eyes light up like circles of fire. “Lara Montgomery—”

  “Crane.”

  Her passion has fueled mine, and my temper begins to sizzle, but she isn’t backing down. She places her hands on her hips and paces.

  “And what, he said something to you that upset you?”

  I shake my head. “Just the opposite. He was nice, but … like a stranger. I need to know, do you really believe he did it? Really?”

  “He was convicted,” she spits out. She must hate that I’m making her talk about it.

  “Innocent people get convicted, especially if they’re set up.”

  Mom rolls her eyes. “Lara, don’t tell me you’ve been on the Internet again. I told you he’ll say anything. Anything, if it means getting out of prison.”

  “I think there’s truth in what he says. I know he didn’t do it, Mom. I know.”

  “How?” Her question is practically a dare. “Tell me how you know.”

  I stammer and struggle. I know the answer I want to give her.

  “Because he’s your father,” she whispers. “I know you will never give this up, but there’s nothing we can do, Lara. What’s done is done. Your father is guilty, as much as you hate to see it.”

  My heart palpitates, and I draw a breath. “Why didn’t you stick by him? Why?”

  “He tried to kill me.”

  My jaw is set tight. “You ripped me away from him. I remember it.”

  Mom’s eyes spill tears. “Is that all you remember? Is it? Do you remember the horrible apartments we lived in? The horror we went through those first months. The trial? You think I wanted that for you, for me? Don’t be insane, Lara. If your father was innocent, they wouldn’t have found the gun at our apartment.”

  “It was planted.”

  She snickers with bitterness. “You sound like him. I’ll be damned if you’ll go see him again!”

  My fist pounds my chest. “I’m a Crane! His blood is in me, so you can’t tell me what to do!”

  I turn to pull the door open, but she grabs my wrist, spins me around, and slaps me right acro
ss the cheek. Shocked, my mouth drops open, and I cover the sting with the palm of my hand. Rather than apologize, she breathes with indignation, her top lip curled onto her bottom.

  “We are Montgomerys now. Everything we have, everything we love, comes from this life.”

  “You really are ashamed you were a Crane once, aren’t you?” I whisper, realizing the horror of the truth Lara wrote in her diary. “I’m a sick reminder that you loved John once. That we had this life together in a rundown apartment.” I take a deep breath, my own words cutting me.

  “Is that really what you think?” she says, face full of distress. “You think I hate you?”

  “Maybe.” My nostrils flare. “Last month you didn’t come to my dance recital. Last week you skipped our usual breakfast.” Where are these resentments coming from?

  “Work.” Her eyes are sad and she frowns.

  “Screw work!” I scream. “Work isn’t what’s important. Do you know what is? I am! Mike and Molly are important. We talked about getting you a gift, and you know what they wanted to get you? Gift certificates for spas because they know how stressed out you are all the time. They have nannies when they should have you.”

  “I feel guilty enough. I don’t need you adding to it, Lara.”

  “You should feel guilty.” My lips curl in a snarl. I can’t believe I traded my dad for this woman. I should’ve left her in the alley to die.

  Suddenly, I’m crying. My shoulders are heaving, and the sobs can barely escape my lungs, fighting for freedom. I cover my eyes and nearly rub them straight off with the heels of my hands. I hate myself and wish the world would swallow me whole.

  Mom’s arms wrap around me in the biggest of bear hugs. She pulls me down into the sofa beside her. I am like a little girl in her arms as she sways in time with me. “It was so much easier when you were little.”

  I laugh through the hurt. “I want to be with you. I wish I was enough.”

  “Oh, Lara.” Her voice sounds broken, and I see the strain on her face. Her eyes gaze off into the distance at the bookcases lining her office walls. “Let me go to the lab, fix a few things, then I’ll take you to lunch.”

  “Your work—”