Every Last Minute (Time Wrecker Trilogy Book 1)

by Ellen Smith

  Maybe she wouldn’t be against a time wreck.

  Maybe she’d understand.

  “Will?” Becca prodded. “What trial? Did something happen?”

  Will and Mara had already told Tristan and Robyn. Maybe it would cheer Becca up to hear that they were going to get a second chance. It could be a little reminder that there was always hope or something. Becca liked that kind of thing.

  “Why aren’t you saying anything?” Becca asked, voice rising. She was starting to sound panicked again. “What aren’t you telling me?”

  “Calm down, calm down. It’s okay. This isn’t exactly out in the open, but I guess I can tell you. Mara and I might get a timeline rectification.”

  “A what?”

  Now Becca really sounded upset. Something was wrong. Maybe she hadn’t understood what he meant. “A timeline rectification. You know, where a criminal gets a chance to go back and relive the moment of the crime, only they make a different choice? They undo their crime, basically.”

  “I know what a time wreck is.”

  Will had a horrible sinking feeling. “Okay, wait. I know you might not approve, but it’s really not as bad as it sounds.”

  “I can’t believe you guys,” Becca said. “I can’t believe this at all. What are you thinking?”

  “Um. That life might be better if Mara hadn’t gotten shot?”

  “Will, listen to me. I know you think of me as your baby sister, but listen. What I’m going through right now? This is bad. I don’t know what I’m going to do. I don’t know how I’m going to get my things, I don’t know where I’m going to live—I mean I know I can crash at Mom’s for a while, but we all know that can’t go on forever. And the worst part of it is that I really loved Ben.” Her voice cracked a little, and Will wanted to fly down to North Carolina all over again. “I thought what we had was special. I thought Ben and I were going to get married and have kids and be together forever. And I know I can tell you that because you won’t be like, ‘Well, then you should have waited for the ring instead of moving in with him,’ and giving me the lecture about how a farmer won’t buy a cow if he can get the milk for free.”

  “To be honest, I didn’t like you moving in with Ben,” Will said. “And not because of that stupid saying about the cow or whatever. I just didn’t think he treated you as well as he could’ve. You deserve better.”

  “Thanks. That’s very helpful now that we’re breaking up.” Becca sighed. When she spoke again, the sarcasm had disappeared. “Most people don’t get to have what you and Mara have. You two are so lucky and you don’t even see it. And you’re willing to throw all that away to give a criminal another chance to stumble through college without shooting anyone?”

  “It’s not just for his benefit,” Will said. “And we’re not throwing anything away. We went to the same college. We were bound to meet sooner or later.”

  “Are you sure? Maybe here in Deer Hill, that would be true, but you could multiply our town by ten and still not fill up that college you went to. What happened was terrible. Really. I know it’s been bad for you guys. But honestly, Will, I’d take a bullet for a chance at the kind of love you and Mara have.”

  “You have no idea what you’re talking about,” Will said, gritting his teeth.

  “Neither do you.”

  * * * * *

  Something was up with Mara. An hour passed, then two, and she still wasn’t home.

  Lunchtime came and went. Will made himself a sandwich and debated about texting her again. What kind of errands was she running? Usually, she went to the grocery store or the pharmacy around the corner. Had she gone off to a bookstore to blow off some stress? That would explain why she’d been gone so long, but why wouldn’t she have asked him to go with her?

  Because she needs a break from me.

  Well, why wouldn’t she? Their lives were in limbo and it felt like they were in limbo too. Ever since the shooting, it seemed Jason Mann would resurface every few years to throw everything back into question. Whatever lawyer his father had hired must have been very, very good at his job. Half the evidence had been thrown out before they even made it to trial.

  Will in particular had been called into question for identifying the shooter. Holding his memory under that level of scrutiny had shaken Will’s confidence. What had been so certain in the aftermath of the shooting seemed like a guessing game at the trial years later. Under the heat of the lawyer’s scrutiny, Will even started to wonder if he’d just imagined the whole thing. Thank goodness the trial hadn’t hinged on his testimony. It was a good thing the college had security cameras.

  Once the lawyer ran out of ways to question whether Jason was the shooter, he’d changed tacks and started listing all the reasons Jason wasn’t truly responsible for the crime.

  Jason was too young—only eighteen and bearing the intense stress of failing out of a prestigious college.

  Jason was naïve. He had bought the gun for protection because he was scared of going to a big school in the city.

  Jason was privileged. He had no understanding of the consequences of his actions, since he’d never faced the harsh realities of the world before.

  Jason lacked intent. It had been impulsive.

  That was the argument that had finally nailed Jason’s conviction. Jason may not have intended to shoot anybody. He may have had the bright idea to shoot out some windows and cause some damage to the Student Union, just because he was mad. He probably hadn’t intended to do it—who planned to shoot up a building with a gun that only held six bullets?

  But he had shot Mara twice. The first time he shot her, he had been surprised. He’d panicked.

  But then he shot her a second time. Mara’s lawyer had no trouble arguing Jason’s intent to kill.

  Will and Mara had been seniors in college before Jason was finally, finally sentenced. That had started off another round of appeals from Jason’s lawyer. Certainly Jason couldn’t be expected to serve time in prison. Not for a one-time, spur-of-the-moment crime. No. Bearing his family name and the immense wealth that came with it, Jason would surely become the target of the other inmates.

  The decision came shortly before Will and Mara graduated—twenty years in prison. If Jason had shot anyone else—Will, for example—he was pretty sure Jason would have been let out on house arrest. Being the daughter of a lawyer and a congressman had its benefits.

  And now here Jason was, eight years later, declaring he was rehabilitated and mucking up their lives again. Will felt a surge of anger. How dare Jason Mann do this to us?

  Better question: why are we letting him do this to us?

  Maybe the time wreck wouldn’t be granted, anyway. A judge had seen through Jason before and given him a real sentence—jail time and everything—instead of letting him off easy. Maybe it would happen again. And then he and Mara would be back where they’d always been. Making the best of things.

  So why not do that now?

  They had a good life together, he and Mara. They didn’t have to stop enjoying it while they waited to see what would happen at the trial. That’s probably why Mara’s been out so long. She just needs a break from all this time wreck stuff.

  When she came home, Will was going to show her he understood. They’d take a break together. Becca was right—he didn’t appreciate what he had with Mara. Not as much as he could.

  So tonight he’d cook dinner—scratch that, they’d go out. Maybe they couldn’t afford any place fancy, but Mara liked chicken fingers and fries better than steak and lobster, anyway. They’d go have dinner and hold hands across the table and talk about everything real instead of everything that might have been.

  It would be a good night.

  Will felt his cell phone vibrating in his pocket and answered it without even checking the caller ID. “Mara?” he asked breathlessly.

  “No, just your mother,” Bonnie Sterling huffed. “So I was talking with your sister about why it is you can’t
be troubled to come down and help her.”

  Will’s stomach clenched. And here he was again, with the subject of the time wreck creeping back up on him. How could Becca rat me out like this? “Mom, I know what you’re going to say, but just hear me out.”

  “I’m your mother. I don’t hear you out, you hear me out. Listen, William. Your sister looks up to you. For you to go and pull something like this—”

  “I’m not pulling anything,” Will snapped. “Mara and I didn’t ask for this. This is Jason Mann’s doing and no one else’s. He said he wanted to rehabilitate. He said he wanted a time wreck. He did.”

  The silence on the other end of the phone was profound.

  “Did you say time wreck? Do you mean to tell me that that ingrate has gone and tried to loop you into more of his shenanigans?”

  No. No no no no. “I thought you knew. I thought Becca told you.”

  “Becca told me you weren’t able to make the drive and for some reason, you couldn’t see yourself taking a day off work. What’s really going on? What are you doing Monday that’s got to do with a time wreck?”

  “Nothing! Nothing. I was just saying I needed to save my vacation days in case there was a trial. That’s all I meant.” Will felt like his words were still hanging in the air. If only they offered time wrecks for stupidity. He’d give anything to rewind now and take back what he’d said.

  Finally, Bonnie Sterling spoke. “Well. I have to confess I’m a bit confused. Why would you need to show up at the trial? Wouldn’t you and Mara just say you’re not interested? I hear all this talk about the victims being offered time wrecks and turning it down so they could keep living in the Lord’s time. We had one of them come speak to our women’s group. Very empowering.”

  Will felt his mouth suddenly go dry.

  “Does this mean you and Mara are considering it?”

  He couldn’t lie to his mother. Couldn’t find a way to tell her the truth, either. Eventually, the fact that he’d paused spoke for itself.

  “So that’s what you told Becca about. And neither of you had the simple respect to clue me in to what you were thinking,” Bonnie said. Will could picture her skin getting flushed and patchy, the way it did when she was really angry.

  “It’s the best thing for us,” Will said. “Really, if you look at it. I thought you’d understand.” Stop talking.

  “No, Will, I don’t understand,” Bonnie Sterling said. Will could hear her voice rising. “This isn’t a mistake. You’re planning this. You’re considering whether to sin, and you’re deciding to do it anyway.”

  “We’re not sinning, Mom,” Will said. “We’re doing the right thing.”

  “You’re turning back time,” Bonnie said. “You’re rejecting all the lessons and all the blessings God’s given you through this crime. You’re tampering with God’s time and you’re tampering with God’s will.”

  “Mom,” Will said. “Mom. It’s not like that. We’re making things better for everyone. We’re doing the right thing.”

  “I’ll pray for you,” said Bonnie Sterling. Will listened to the dial tone for a full minute before he hung up too.

  Time Wrecking: The Latest Injustice in Our Justice System

  By S. Elizabeth Llewellyn, Esq.

  As a civil rights attorney, I’ve had the opportunity to represent a variety of special interest groups. Often, I’m asked by friends and family to describe the biggest problem facing our justice system today. I’m not trying to be humorous when I respond: “The system works beautifully. The only problem is that humans are operating it.”

  All the injustices that I fight against in the courtroom are issues outside of the courtroom too. The system is prejudiced because people are prejudiced. We fail to hold some criminals accountable because we fail to hold some people accountable. We throw the book at other criminals just as we, in society, over-punish those who fall outside our constrained view of social norms.

  There is one great hope that keeps me going as I tirelessly advocate for those who society seems to have forgotten. I’ve seen, firsthand, that change is possible. I know that people can learn from their mistakes. I believe that we can create a more just and egalitarian society, one person at a time.

  Surprisingly, the biggest obstacle to social progress that I’m seeing within the courthouse is the concept of timeline rectification. Although many of my colleagues tout it as a wonderful, redemptive alternative to parole or jail time, particularly for new and nonviolent offenders, I think it’s had the opposite effect.

  Computers often work better if you shut them down and power them back on. Computers benefit from having a bad application deleted. However, we in the justice system aren’t reprogramming computers: we’re attempting to reprogram people and their lives. That’s a much more difficult task. Additionally, humans learn by recalling and choosing not to repeat their past mistakes. Removing the original crime, along with the memory of the crime itself, removes the opportunity for offenders to learn and grow.

  In my practice, I’ve begun refusing cases from clients who are interested in pursuing timeline rectification in the future. I hope my colleagues will begin to do the same. We’re in the courtroom to promote progress, and to do this, we must allow our clients to live and learn through their mistakes.

  Chapter Fifteen

  MARA

  When Mara arrived back at the apartment, she half-expected Will to be waiting for her at the door—she’d been gone longer than she’d imagined—but the apartment was empty. Mara frowned and looked around for a note while she tried to remember where she’d put the vase. They only had one. It was a green-tinted glass vase that her Valentine’s Day bouquet had come in. Mara finally found it under the sink and filled it halfway with water and one packet of flower food.

  Grandmary was right. Fresh flowers really did make the world look brighter. Mara put the arrangement on the end table between the sofa and the recliner, and that was where she saw Will’s note.

  Just in case you get home before I do—I’m going out for a run. Be back soon. Call if you need me.

  XOXO

  —Will

  So that’s where he was. When Will went out for a run, it definitely meant he was stressed. With as much pressure as they’d been under, it was amazing he hadn’t been running all week. He’d probably be out for a while.

  Mara sank back onto the couch and turned on the TV. Nothing was playing on Saturdays, other than movie marathons and home-decorating shows. Mara opted for a Harry Potter movie. It was the Deathly Hallows Part I. Part II—the last movie—was supposed to be out this summer.

  I wonder if we’ll still be in this life map when it comes out.

  She and Will had gone to see the second Harry Potter movie as their first official date. Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets. Will had paid for her ticket, she remembered. He’d sat on her left side during the movie but hadn’t tried to hold her hand right away—not until she moved her arm along the armrest, silently giving him permission.

  Maybe that had been the real moment of choice in their relationship. Dr. Hendrix had made it sound like Jason Mann had decided their whole lives when he pulled the trigger, but hadn’t she and Will had a lot to do with it?

  Mara tried to focus on the movie. Her shoulder throbbed but at least the painful seizes seemed to have stopped. Maybe the higher dose was working. If only it didn’t make her so sleepy and foggy-brained.

  Nothing’s perfect.

  As soon as she heard the key in the lock, Mara lurched forward. It was Will, leaning against the door with such force that the chain lock pulled straight out of the frame when he walked through.

  “Crap,” Will said, examining the damage. Perspiration dripped down the center of his chest and down his back. His gray T-shirt clung damply onto him.

  “Guess you don’t know your own strength,” Mara said, jokingly. “How long were you out running? I wasn’t gone that long. Were you trying to find me?”

&n
bsp; Instead of laughing, Will let the door swing closed with a sigh.

  “Will?” Mara asked, suddenly alert. “What’s wrong? Don’t worry about the chain lock, okay? It’s been partly broken for ages and maintenance hasn’t called me back once. Maybe now they’ll fix it.”

  He sat down hard on the recliner, making it screech. Will rested his elbows on his jutting knees and buried his head in his hands. “I think I screwed up.”

  This felt big. Mara sat on the end of the sofa nearest him, feeling suddenly dizzy from the scent of the flowers. “Okay. Just tell me. Whatever it is, it can’t be that bad.”

  Finally, Will looked up. Behind the silver frames of his glasses, his eyes looked smaller than usual. His blond hair stood at attention, a sure sign he’d been running his hands through it the way he always did when he was stressed.

  “What happened?”

  “I told my mom.”

  “About . . .” Mara had a sinking feeling she already knew the answer.

  “Becca and her boyfriend broke up. Becca called me to ask if I could help her move out. I said no—since we live ten hours away—and she asked why I couldn’t take a day off work to make the round trip.”

  Despite herself, Mara rolled her eyes. “Because it’s not like there’s anybody in the entire state of North Carolina who could help her instead.”

  “And when Becca asked, I told her that I had to keep my days off free in case they scheduled a trial date and told her what for . . .”