by Bree Wolf
I smiled back. “I’m sure I will. Good night,” I said. “And tell your daughter ‘good luck’ from me.”
“I will,” he said and headed for the elevator.
I returned to my office and spent the next hour researching the net, trying to find out as much about Nathan Alexander as I could. However, there wasn’t much to find. For an author who’d now written five bestsellers, he led a pretty uneventful life. He lived right here in town, had studied literature in college and had so far refused to sell the movie rights to his books. That was about all I was able to unearth.
When it started getting dark, I decided to call it a day and headed downstairs to the parking lot behind the restaurant. Most of the cars were still there and it took me a while to find mine. I’d parked it close to the exit. However, I so often parked my car in this parking lot that I sometimes had trouble remembering when I’d parked it where.
Unlocking it, I opened the driver’s door when a shadow suddenly fell on me from behind. I spun around, my heart beating like a jackhammer.
The panic dropped from my face as I found my mystery guy standing only a foot or two away. My heart slowed down a little, but not all the way.
“Nathan,” I said, feeling that we knew each other well enough for first names. And besides, he’d called me Jena before.
He smiled at me then, openly, like he’d never done before, as though again approving of what I’d done.
“That’s your name, isn’t it?” I asked. “Nathan Alexander.”
He nodded, for the first time showing a direct reaction to something I’d said. I felt exhilarated.
“I found out your name,” I said. “Was that what you wanted me to do? Or is there more?”
He didn’t answer but I knew there had to be more to it. This couldn’t possibly be the answer to the riddle.
He took a step closer, eyes boring into mine once again.
I waited, unable to say or do anything. That by now almost familiar paralysis spread over me and everything but us seemed to be far away. Like it belonged to some other universe that wasn’t ours and didn’t concern us.
Suddenly he took my hand and squeezed it gently. Leaning closer, he whispered, “You need to hurry or it will be too late.”
The smile froze on my face as I looked at him, his eyes serious and almost afraid. At first I couldn’t say anything. Then I started stammering. “W-what? What do you mean?” I asked. “Too late for what?”
But once again he didn’t answer. He just looked at me imploringly. Then and there I would have given him whatever he wanted if I only knew what that was.
Again he gently squeezed my hand. Then he took a step backward and letting go of my hand, he turned and walked away. Once again I was alone.
Chapter Seventeen – A Name with the Face
The drive home took all my concentration. But it was a relief somehow to be forced to let go of all the distressing thoughts that had been occupying my mind lately. When I pulled up the driveway, I felt a little more focused; but tired.
It was already late and I had to stifle a yawn or two. However, before heading to bed I tried calling Abby. She didn’t pick up though, which was highly unusual for her. Maybe she was out on a date, I thought. I could think of no other explanation for her to neglect her cell phone. Lying down, I started reading The Life Within.
Reading his book though made me think about him even more. I didn’t know what I had been thinking. Pushing on, I tried to compare the man who had filled these page to the man I’d met. I didn’t come to a satisfying conclusion. They seemed like two completely different people and yet there was something familiar about both of them. Reading his book, I realized that the words he’d written stirred the same sense of familiarity I had always felt when he had shown up out of nowhere. There was something there. I just didn’t know what it was.
When I couldn’t keep my eyes open any longer, I snatched the silver bookmark from Jane Austen’s Persuasion and clapped it onto the page of his book. I decided I would ask him about it the next day. By now I felt sure that he was the one who had given it to me at some point. Maybe only at some point in the future, as Abby had suggested. But if anyone could tell me what the words engraved on it meant for sure, it was him.
***
The sun rose too early the next morning. I felt drained and ready to sleep for at least another ten hours. However, there was something almost chasing me from my bed; some energy coursing through my veins, kicking me forward whenever I threatened to return to a more vegetative state.
Finally surrendering, I jumped into my clothes, grabbed a poptart and drove to town as fast as was safely possible under the still icy conditions of the road.
It was around noon when I finally knocked on Abby’s door. I heard her shuffle her feet as she rushed to answer and probably tripped because she suddenly slammed into the door with a loud bang and a muttered ouch!. Then she almost tore it open. When her eyes saw me, her face dropped open.
I frowned at her. “You all right?”
She blinked as though shaking off a dream. “Yeah. Yeah. I’m...eh...I’m fine.” She was still looking at me, almost staring. “What are you doing here?”
“I wanted to talk to you but...” She still looked out of it somehow. “But I can come back later if...”
“No. No. No,” Abby said, waving her hand dismissively. She stepped aside. “Come in. What’s up?”
“Are you sure you’re all right?” I asked again as we sat down on the couch. “You look...not like yourself.”
“Oh rubbish! So,” she said. “What did you want to talk to me about?”
To be honest, I felt a little rushed; almost like she was trying to get rid of me.
“I tried to call last night,” I started. “But you didn’t pick up. I...”
“I was out,” she rushed to explain, her eyes not meeting mine.
“So I figured,” I said, feeling my eyes narrow. “Abby, what’s going on?”
“Nothing!”
I looked at her then, eyebrows raised. “Oh please! I’ve known you for years. Granted, most of the time you were a little weird, especially compared to other people. But this is unusual even for you. If there is something you don’t want to tell me, fine. Just say so. But don’t give me this crap about everything being all right.”
There was a hint of guilt on her face. However, the moment I stopped speaking, there came another knock on the door. Abby’s eyes widened into plates.
I frowned at her. When she didn’t rise from the couch to answer the door but just sat their staring ahead wide-eyed, I opened it instead, finding myself face to face with my brother.
Granted, I was a bit surprised to see him there. But upon seeing me, his face took on the same expression I had seen on Abby’s just a moment before. Whatever was going on, he was in on it. That much was clear.
“C’mon in,” I said to him. “Maybe you can shed some light on this.”
As he entered, the two of them eyed each other nervously, their eyes now and then flashing to me. Both of them looked nervous and slightly uncomfortable. I knew that since their breakup, it had been difficult for them to be in the same room with each other. But it had never been this bad. And after all this time, they should have been able to deal with it a lot better.
“So?” I said, looking from one to the other. “Who wants to go first?”
As though her mind had suddenly resumed its work, Abby sat up, blinking somewhat erratically. “Well,” she started, her eyes flickering to my brother. “I think I’m going to have to plead the fifth on that one,” she said, imitating me with a superior grin on her face.
“Really?” I said, a little surprised. “And what about you?” I turned to my brother.
There was a faint grin on his face as he looked from Abby to me. “Yeah, I’m afraid I have to second that.”
Looking at them now, I thought they looked really pleased with themselves.
“All right,” I said, reminding myself of why I had
come there in the first place. “Since neither one of you is willing to come clean about what is going on here, will you at least listen to what I have to say?”
“Sure,” they both said, obviously relieved that the attention was moved from them to me.
We all gathered around the kitchen table and I found myself looking into two faces that held more than just normal curiosity. Something was going on; but it had to wait. I would deal with their weird behavior later.
“Abby, we already talked about this,” I started and turned to my brother. “But you might need a little reminding.” I took a deep breath, bracing myself for him not to believe me yet again. “Do you remember what I told you about time shifts that I was experiencing? I know it’s a lot to ask but...”
He nodded his head, smiling. “Yeah, I remember. You said it might have something to do with that guy that kept showing up at the restaurant and places.”
Now it was my turn to stare disbelievingly. He had taken to all this much too fast. I couldn’t help but wonder if I’d even mentioned to him my suspicion about how my mystery guy might have something to do with my time shifts. Had Abby spoken to him?
I frowned at him. “Okay,” I said slowly. “I didn’t know you were this open-minded about all this. I always thought you didn’t believe a word I said.”
Again he nodded. “Well, that was yesterday. Today is today.”
My eyes narrowed at this explanation but I decided not to dwell on it. “Fine,” I said. “What I want to talk to you about is....” Suddenly I didn’t know what to say. For a second I felt completely confused. All the time shifts, all the things that had happened and were still happening. I wondered when all of this would finally end.
“Did you find out something new?” Abby asked, taking my hand. “Did you see him again?”
I nodded. “I did. But it’s more than that. I know his name now.”
Their eyes opened wide in surprise. “But that’s a good thing, right?” Andy said. “Now you can find out why he keeps showing up like that.”
“Theoretically, yes,” I said.
“Yeah, but where’s the problem?” Andy asked, confusion on his face. “I thought you always wanted to know who he is.”
I nodded. “Yes, but knowing his name doesn’t mean I know who he is.”
Abby held up her hands. “Okay, let’s start somewhere. What is his name?”
“Nathan Alexander,” I said, my eyes on Andy.
His eyebrows shot up at hearing the name just as I had expected. “You’re not talking about that author, are you? The one you wrote a review about.”
I nodded.
A frown appeared on Abby’s face. “Hold on. If you already knew who he was when you wrote the review, then I’m confused.”
“Well, I didn’t,” I started.
“Not making it better,” Abby interrupted.
“Would you let me finish?” I asked indignantly.
“Sorry. Go on.”
“Okay, I knew the author by name but I didn’t know what he looked like. I just wrote a review on one of his books and didn’t meet him or anything. And I never knew what the guy from the restaurant’s name was. I never brought those two together. I never made a connection. I mean, how could I have?”
Abby nodded, finally understanding. “Okay, then how did you find out that they are the same guy?”
I told them about Ryan passing the interview to me and my surprise at seeing the guy’s picture on the back of the book.
Abby glowed, a big smile on her face. “Okay, that’s like fate!”
Andy snorted and she elbowed him. But instead of getting mad at her, he laughed good-naturedly. I eyed them curiously. This looked awfully familiar.
“But that’s perfect, isn’t it?” Andy said. “During the interview you can ask him everything you’d like to know.”
Abby shrugged. “Only provided that he says more during the interview than when he shows up unexpectedly.”
“Why would he agree to an interview if he didn’t want to talk or answer questions?” Andy asked.
“Maybe he’s only being Mr. Weirdo around Jena,” Abby suggested. “Hey, it could be. May-be in normal life he is...well, a normal guy.”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. The interview is this afternoon and...gosh, I’m nervous. I really hope that I’ll finally get some answers and I can’t imagine him sitting there refusing to say a word. But when I saw him last night after Ryan had told me, he didn’t say anything. He seemed pleased that I’d finally figured out his name. But when I mentioned the interview, he just turned and walked away, which of course, is not an unusual behavior for him. I just...I just don’t really know what to expect. How do you get something out of someone who is unwilling to talk to you?”
They both shrugged.
“Good,” I nodded. “You’re a great help!”
***
I had butterflies in my stomach all morning and when lunch time came around, I was still too nervous to eat. I paced the floor in my office, rode the elevator down a couple of times to the sandwich stand on the sidewalk by the office building only to decide that I was after all too nervous to eat and then went back up. I noticed a few confused and half-amused looks from my colleagues but then and there I couldn’t have cared less about what they were thinking about my non-existent professionalism.
I kept glancing at my watch and when it finally turned three, I was sure to be only moments away from a heart attack. To try and steady my nerves, I took a couple of deep breaths, inhaling and exhaling slowly. It didn’t work though. I felt completely jittery. How embarrassing was that?
Standing in the door frame of my office, I looked down the corridor at the elevator. Every time it stopped and people got off, my heart too stopped for a split second, only resuming its pace when he was not among them.
I took another deep breath, looking down at the floor and closing my eyes for a moment. When I looked back up, there he suddenly was. At the end of the corridor. He was saying something to Greg from sports section. Greg then turned around and pointed at me.
When his eyes followed in the direction indicated by Greg and he finally saw me, I was sure I was about to faint, hands almost painfully clinging to the door frame for balance.
A friendly smile appeared on his face as he saw me.
Watching him heading towards me, I reminded myself to play my part and forced a friendly smile on my face as well.
“Hello,” he said, the smile on his face reaching his eyes. “You must be Jena Gardner. I’m Nathan Alexander. Nice to meet you.”
He held out his hand and I took it. “Likewise,” I said, but it sounded a little shaky.
Was he really pretending he didn’t know me? I couldn’t believe it and for a moment I just stared at him, dumbfounded.
A corner of his mouth curled into a confused one-sided grin. “Shall we get started?”
“Yes, of course,” I said hastily, beckoning him to sit down while I took my place behind the desk, having another look at my notes.
For a second I was unsure if the man in my office really was the same guy. But except for the fact that he wore different clothes, he looked completely the same. Looking at him again, I realized that that might not be true altogether. The man before me had an easy, carefree smile on his face. He was friendly, outgoing and it showed. He easily got in contact with people and they liked him. However, the man I had seen again last night in the parking lot had seemed troubled, fearful even. He never spoke much and always appeared to be driven by some kind of hidden agenda–good or bad–that turned his smile into a frown.
“Everything all right?” he asked.
“What?” I said, startled. “Yes, sure.”
“You seem somewhat distracted,” he observed, a devilish grin appearing on his face. “Let me guess, you didn’t want to do this interview in the first place but your boss made you and now you’re subconsciously mad at me because I’m the indirect cause for you being stuck here with me. How am I doing?”
>
I felt my lips turn into a confused grin. “Cute little story you came up with. Did it spring from the genius mind behind all those bestsellers?”
He laughed. “Oh, quick on the comebacks! I’m impressed.”
I felt myself relax. “Well, considering the people I am forced to deal with every day, I have to be. It’s pure survival instinct.”
“That bad?” he asked.
I rolled my eyes. “You have no idea.”
“Well, then keep’em coming,” he said, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. “Feel free to practice on me all you like.”
I laughed.
“So, be honest,” he started, clearing his throat. “Am I one of them?”
I frowned. “One of what?”
“One of the people you’re forced to deal with.”
Again I laughed. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” I eyed him curiously but he held my gaze without blinking. “Quite frankly, I haven’t made up my mind yet.”
“Is there anything I can do to help?” he asked.
“You could answer some questions.”
“Okay, shoot,” he said, comfortably leaning back in his chair. “What do you got?”
I walked him through the obvious questions any bestselling author would be asked. How he got his ideas? If he believed what he wrote about to be truly possible? When he had started writing? What his friends and family thought of his success? If he had ever imagined his books to be this successful? And so on.
He was very open and forthcoming, answering everything I asked with frank honesty. All the while a good-natured sense of humor showed in his eyes. With every word my nervousness evaporated into nothing as though it had never existed. Time passed quickly and I was surprised how comfortable I already felt in his presence after only such a short moment. But he was so different from the man who frequently jumped into my life, only to confuse me with his tight-lippedness.
That thought however collided with the realization that I still wasn’t any closer to an answer I so much desired. Who was he? And how did we know each other?