“I was in the neighborhood and thought I’d drop by.”
“Be serious.” Jennifer turned Jeremy’s face to hers. Her voice sharpened. “You look terrible. What’s happened? Is Kat all right?”
“She’s fine.” Jeremy took her arm, guiding her past a homeless man using the theater alley for a urinal. “I need to talk to you. I’ve got a problem and you’re the only one who can help.”
“Of course I’ll help. Tell me.”
“It’s complicated. I need a bit of time to explain.” Jeremy opened the rear door of the idling car. “I hired a car.”
“Clever of you,” Jennifer commented. “No one finds a taxi in the rain in New York.”
He helped her in and slid in beside her.
Lance was waiting inside. “Hello, Jennifer.”
“Darling! Did you get an earlier train?” Jennifer reached out her arms to him.
Lance pulled her hands into his, preventing the embrace. “Ah . . . His eyes moved from Jennifer to Jeremy to the Jen in the front seat. “There’s someone you need to meet.”
Jen’s head spun. Her future self called Lance darling. What had changed and when? Right now she had a more pressing problem. What do you say when you meet yourself? Jen turned around and smiled. “Hello, Jennifer.”
Jennifer’s eyes rolled back in her head. She slumped forward. Lance caught her.
Jen felt dizzy herself, but . . . “I never faint.”
Jeremy glared at her. “Couldn’t you have said nothing? There are five bloody flights of stairs to get her up.”
Jennifer regained consciousness before the car reached the apartment. But she appeared ready to fly apart at any minute. Jeremy and Lance each held her hand. No one said a word till the car stopped.
Jeremy tipped the driver and thanked him.
Jen couldn’t help herself. She smiled at the man next to her. He had a picture of his family taped to the dashboard. He wasn’t going to be anywhere near Wall Street if she could help it. “Where do you live?”
“Queens. Near Shea Stadium.” Jen pressed the last of her earnings from the shop into his hand. “I need a driver tomorrow. Could you be here at eight-thirty? I might not be ready till nine. Please wait.”
Jennifer scrambled over Jeremy in her haste to get out. Jeremy caught her arm. “It’s all right, Jennifer. I promise.”
Jen hurried after them. “Wait for me.”
Jeremy nodded back toward the car driving off. “Why did you do that?”
“You know why.”
Lance unlocked the door and half carried Jennifer up the first flight. At the landing, she pulled away from him. Her voice shook. “You’re not my Lance. Who? What?” Her voice gave out.
Jeremy took her arm. “We’re here to make sure you have a future. I’ll explain upstairs.”
Jen sat on the floor at the foot of the bed, where her other self couldn’t see her. It was bad enough hearing Jeremy explaining the mess. Her future self didn’t need her doppelganger watching her get the news.
“No! No one would crash a plane into a building.”
Jen couldn’t stand the sound of Jennifer’s shell-shocked terror. Those two idiots were standing there, not doing anything. Didn’t they know she needed to be held? She rose up, grabbed the crumpled blanket, and put it around her double’s shoulders.
Tears ran down Jennifer’s face, unchecked. “Two planes? The people. All those people. It’s unthinkable.”
“I know.” Jen let her own tears spill.
Jennifer’s body shook. “Lance! He . . .” She turned to Lance. “You . . .” She stumbled over her words. “Lancelot. He’s supposed to be there. I have to warn him.”
“We will,” Lance said. “He’s next.”
“We have to call the police. The FBI. The—”
“No.” Jeremy looked like a man on the rack. “It’s already happened. We can’t change it.”
Jennifer’s voice rose. “Then why are you here?”
Jeremy sat next to Jennifer—arm around her shoulders, resting his head against hers. “The only way this Jen and this Lance exist is because we already were here. And why and how? I don’t know. I only know it happened. Jennifer, we have to stop you from getting in that cab. The best way is to send you through the machine to London.”
Jennifer pushed him away. “If you think I am going anywhere without Lance, you are sadly mistaken.
Jeremy scrubbed his hands across his eyes. “My brain feels like pudding.”
Jen looked at Lance. “I wouldn’t go without you. So, four of us then?”
Jennifer nodded curtly. “However you do it, I’m part of the plan.”
“Do you know what time your Lance was planning to check into the Marriot?” Jeremy asked.
Jen interrupted. “We can’t keep calling them both Lance. Let’s called yours Lancelot.”
“I don’t care what you call him as long as we get him out,” Jennifer shot back. “He’d planned to leave Washington after his last meeting. He said it would be late. Around three or four in the morning.”
Jen’s muscles tightened. She could feel Jennifer’s terror, which amplified her own.
Jeremy consulted his watch. “Three hours to go, then. Why don’t you try to get some rest?”
Jen rolled her eyes. Saw Jennifer doing the same. “Not going to happen,” they chorused.
Jeremy shrugged. “Your choice. Lance, I want you to double check me on the maths.”
Lance followed Jeremy into the living room.
Jen looked at her double. Curiosity was killing her. “Tell me. When did you and Lancelot decide you didn’t hate each other?”
Jennifer raised her eyebrows. “You don’t remember?”
“I haven’t a clue what happened in our life from the day I jumped forward until today. You’ve lived those months. They aren’t part of my memory.”
Jennifer rubbed her forehead. “Trying to wrap my mind around the time jumps hurts. And being in the same room with you is fizzing my brain.”
Jen agreed. “How do you think I feel knowing there are five months of my life I know nothing about? Please catch me up.”
“All right.” Jennifer huddled into the blanket, eyes fixed on the wall. “After Jeremy sent Lance back.”
“He sent him back?”
Jennifer looked at her as if she’d grown idiot horns. “Well, there couldn’t be two Lancelots existing in the same time frame. He couldn’t stay in 2001. He was already here.”
“Right.” Jen’s head ached with the implication. She’d split off from her Jennifer self when she and Lance jumped forward. And Jennifer thought Lance had been sent backward instead of forward, with her.
“I missed him,” Jennifer whispered. “I knew Lancelot was in Brussels, and I didn’t know if this Lancelot had any memory of me barging into 1988. I decided to find out. The theatre was closed because of the fire, so I went to Brussels and checked into the same hotel. I thought I could stage a casual meeting in the restaurant, and see if he turned tail at the sight of me.”
“And?” Jen prompted.
“I found him in the restaurant, sitting with a group of his colleagues, including the charming Aileen Alworth. I walked over to them and said to Lancelot, ‘Fancy meeting you here.’ Then I smiled at Aileen and introduced myself as Lancelot’s wife.
Jen giggled. “I would have done the same. How did she take it?”
“I don’t know. Lancelot got up and hustled me out of there so fast I didn’t have time to see her face. He had a fierce frown going. I could see he didn’t remember the time jump. I was ready for a fight. Just like old times. Then he looked down at our hands and loosened his grip. He took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. His eyes had a vulnerable expression, the one that used to make
me want to kiss it away and tell him everything was all right. He told me he was sorry for the way things ended.”
Jen sniffed. “He should have been.”
Jennifer wrinkled her nose at Jen. “We both were idiots. Let us not discount our red-headed temper and a tendency to drink too much back then, and I can’t believe I am talking to myself. This is madness.”
“Sorry. But I really wanted to know how you got back together.”
Jennifer sighed. “That meeting was the beginning. I told him about Kathryn and I jumping back to 1988. He was stunned to know I knew anything about the machine. We talked all night.”
“You just talked?”
“None of your business.” Jennifer stuck her nose in the air and then spoiled it with a giggle. “The walls were down between us. But we weren’t ready to let anyone else know we were seeing each other. We’ve been sneaking around for the past five months. He asked me to marry him last week.”
“I’m assuming you said yes. Have you broken the news to the cast?”
“No. We were going to tell them tomorrow after the show.”
Tomorrow. They looked at each other and looked away.
“How much longer?” Jennifer asked.
“Too long. Jeremy’s right. We should try to sleep.” They both closed their eyes and pretended.
~ ~ ~
At three-thirty, the four of them walked downstairs. It took almost thirty minutes to find a cab. Jennifer slid in next to the driver. “We want to go to the Marriot at the World Trade Center, please.”
It was harder for the three of them from the future. They’d seen the footage. Listening to Jennifer give the address to the driver shook them all. Jen clutched Lance’s and Jeremy’s hands with all her strength. “I’m terrified. Beyond sanity. I know you say we’ve already done this, but it doesn’t feel like it.”
Lance and Jeremy didn’t say anything. They didn’t have to.
The rain-slicked streets gleamed under the streetlights. Very few headlights came toward them. The cab pulled up at the glass awning entrance of The Marriott. Jeremy paid the driver.
The four of them stared up at the hotel’s squat, white exterior. It looked like a mushroom next to the twin Leviathans looming over it.
“I see why I chose it,” Lance said. “This has to be one of the shortest hotels in Manhattan.”
Jennifer shuddered. “They put the cast up in the Marriot Marquis on Broadway when we started rehearsal. I took one look and refused to check in. Forty some floors, all with balconies and a clear view down to the lobby. I moved across the street to the Embassy Suites.”
The broad expanse of red-patterned carpet led to a long registration desk. The desk clerk had his back to the desk. Watching a movie on a small television.
“Excuse me,” Jennifer said in a clear, carrying voice.
The clerk turned around. “May I help you?” His practiced hospitable smile turned real when he saw Jennifer. “Jennifer Knight? I saw you last week in Private Lives. You were wonderful. My wife said it was the best play she’d seen all year. We’re big theatre-goers.”
“Thank you.” Jennifer’s smile was a masterpiece of charm. “If you want to come again, I’ll get you house seats. Could you tell me if Lance Davies has checked in yet?”
“I just sent him up.”
“What room, please?”
“I’m sorry, I’ll have to ring him. We can’t give out numbers. Even to you.” The clerk noticed the huddle of Jen, Lance, and Jeremy. Hs eyes widened. “Actually, he’s right behind you. Mr. Davies, Miss Knight is here to see you.”
“No. This is his twin brother and his wife.”
Jen’s oversized cap and reading glasses kept her from being Jennifer’s twin.
Jennifer fluttered her eyes at the desk clerk. “It’s a surprise,” she stage-whispered. “Please don’t mention them.”
The clerk picked up the phone, eyes still in thrall to Jennifer. “Of course.”
The phone rang twice. Jen could hear the rings. The clerk held a low-voiced colloquy with the rumbling voice. He hung up. “Room 410, Miss Knight. A pleasure meeting you.”
Jennifer turned to the three of them. Her hands shook, betraying the mass of nerves her expression hid. “Why don’t you lot wait here? I don’t want to give him a heart attack.”
Jeremy took her arm. “I’ll come with you. They can wait in the hall.”
Four floors didn’t take long. Jen’s heart raced faster than the elevator. The door slid open.
Jennifer’s Lance—no—Lancelot, pushed away from the wall he’d been propping up. “Guinevere, you couldn’t wait till . . .”
Jennifer raced into his arms, shaking them both with the force of her tears.
“Hush, darling,” he soothed. “Whatever it is, we’ll fix it.”
Jeremy cleared his throat.
Lancelot took in Jeremy, Jen and his double. “Or not.” His eyes looked like flint. “Jeremy, what the hell are you doing here? With them? I thought we’d agreed. No more taking us time jumping.”
Jen’s temper flared. “It’s a joyful little game, of course. Do you think we want to be here?”
“Shut up, Jen,” Jeremy said wearily. “You’re not helping.” He leaned against the wall for support. “If you don’t come with us, you’re going to be dead in four hours. Get dressed.”
Lancelot’s arms tightened protectively around Jennifer. He glanced at his sock-clad feet and Batman-printed lounge pants. “Right. Three minutes.” He tried to unwind Jennifer’s arms from around his waist.
She clung tighter. “No. I’m coming with you,” she sobbed.
Jen pulled her away. “He can’t get dressed with you attached.”
“I’ll go with him,” Jen’s Lance said. The two men strode down the hall in perfect rhythm.
Jen’s fingers tightened over Jennifer’s. Now she knew how Lance felt when he’d seen her and Jennifer together.
~ ~ ~
Once in the room, Lancelot hauled his suit pants on over his lounge pants. “I don’t suppose you’ll tell me what this is about?” He shoved his feet into shoes, not bothering to lace them.
“No time.” Lance swept up his double’s toiletries from bathroom shelf, dumping them into the opened rolling bag on the bed. He smiled crookedly at his double. “Do you love her as much as I love my Jen?”
Lancelot buttoned his suit jacket over his tear-damp T-shirt. “She’s my life. Let’s go.”
Four in the back of the taxi was a tight squeeze. Jen barely noticed it. Her rational mind told her they had a few hours, but her subconscious was in charge. Her world narrowed to the sound of her heartbeat. The feel of Lance’s hand in hers.
The ride took centuries until the driver pulled up in front of the brick building on Christopher Street.
Jeremy clung to the railing leading up to the front door. “I need to get in better shape.”
Jeremy had missed so much sleep he had to be running on sheer nerves.
Jen and Jennifer each grabbed an arm. “You’re an idiot,” they said simultaneously.
Jen shivered. They were getting closer together. She could feel it. Was Aaron whatever-his-name-was, right? She didn’t want to merge with her other self. If they merged, which one would lose their identity?
Jen stepped back from Jeremy, and nodded to Jennifer’s Lancelot. “You help him upstairs. I saw an all-night deli on Sixth Avenue. Lance and I will get supplies.” She pulled off her jacket and wedged it against the locks. “No one’s going to break in at this hour. We’ll be right back.”
Lance’s hand found hers. They walked the block in silence. “I’m a coward. I couldn’t bear to hear Jeremy tell it one more time.”
“You’re not a coward. I’ve been with the now-time Lancelot less than for
ty minutes and I’m ready to jump out of my skin. We aren’t made to meet ourselves.”
“You feel it too? You walk alike. It almost looks like you’re thinking the same thoughts.”
Lance’s hand tightened on hers. “I know what you’re thinking. I saw it in your eyes.”
“If we merge—”
“Aaron was wrong. I’d bet money on it. We’re close. But not the same.”
They turned onto Sixth Avenue. The lights of the twin towers were clearly visible against the pre-dawn sky.
Jen took an unsteady breath. “I can’t bear this.”
Lance turned her away from the view of the towers, toward 8th Street. “Think coffee. Jeremy’s almost at the end of his rope. And I have no idea how to operate the blasted program.”
They were the only customers at the deli. They ordered five large coffees. When they stepped back onto Sixth Avenue, the black towers were stark against the wash of gray dawn. Jen’s indrawn breath was a sob.
Lance put his arm around her. “Look down. I’ll guide us back.”
Jen kept her eyes on the pavement until they reached the apartment building. They climbed the stairs slowly, Jen’s calves protesting every step.
Jeremy took the cup Lance handed him with gratitude. He steadied his elbows on the armrests of the swivel chair, trying to sip without spilling.
“I loaded it with sugar,” Jen said. “It should help.”
“Thanks.”
Jennifer sat on the floor. Head back. Eyes closed.
Lancelot prowled the space. “There has to be something we can do.”
“You’ve studied time theory. You know there isn’t.”
A car backfiring made them all start. Jeremy knocked the coffee onto the keyboard. Black against black. Shining wetly.
“Bloody hell!” Both Lances made a dive for the keyboard.
The coffee spill spread, dripping onto the case.
The program on the screen broke into pixels. And went black.
Maybe This Time (A Second Chance Romance) Page 18