Every Last Minute (Time Wrecker Trilogy Book 1)

by Ellen Smith

  “And Becca told your mom.”

  “No, actually. Mom called after that to bug me about not coming down to help Becca, and I thought Becca must have told her why.”

  “Oh, Will.”

  “Turns out she didn’t know.” Will rubbed both his temples. “But she does now.”

  “I’m guessing she wasn’t happy about it.”

  Will wiped more sweat from his face. “I’m so sorry. It just popped out. I had just talked to Becca and the time wreck was on my mind, and then before I knew it, it just—popped out.” Will gestured as if the words had literally jumped out of his mouth.

  “It was a mistake,” Mara said. “What did she say when you told her?”

  “Oh, you know. We’re sinning. We’re going against God’s time and God’s will. She’ll pray for us.”

  Mara felt her head swimming. She knew Bonnie Sterling wouldn’t like the idea of a time wreck, but she thought they’d be able to avoid her finding out.

  “Sounds like it was a rough day,” Mara said. She walked over to the recliner and rested one hand on his shoulder. Will didn’t seem to register her touch.

  “I’m so sorry,” Will said. “I really thought Becca had already told her. Please don’t be mad at me.”

  “I’m not,” Mara said, at the exact second she realized she was.

  * * * * *

  He made one mistake. One. Mara reminded herself of this all through the afternoon. He feels terrible. There’s no point being angry at him. What’s done is done.

  Mara was sure that Will could tell she was upset. He had a sixth sense about these things. That made it even worse. Will is so patient with me. He doesn’t get upset when I’m grumpy with him, or tired, or when I don’t feel like going out, and the one time he needs me to be understanding, I’m not.

  “What can I do?” Will asked, late into the afternoon. “I want to make it better. Please.”

  I want to call off the time wreck. Except then I can look forward to living the rest of my life listening to my mother-in-law make digs at us for almost ruining God’s plan.

  Would it be terrible to do a time wreck just to avoid having anyone find out? After the time wreck, no one would know a crime had ever been committed—much less the lengths they’d gone to undo it. But if they didn’t do the time wreck, this life map would continue.

  This crappy life map. The one where her shoulder hurt and her husband ran his mouth and her in-laws knew they were sinners who wanted to play with God’s time.

  “Do you want to talk about it?” Will asked. “About the time wreck, I mean?”

  “No,” Mara said finally. “I think we should get out for a bit. Try to have some time where we don’t even have to think about it.”

  There it was—a solution. Mara could see Will’s eyes light up. There was something he could do to make things right again. “I was thinking that too. This morning, before Becca called. I’ll call up Tristan and you call Robyn. Let’s all go out tonight. It’ll be like old times.”

  Sure it will. Mara didn’t believe it. She was pretty sure Will didn’t, either.

  * * * * *

  The little bar in Adams Morgan was smaller than Mara remembered. Louder too. The neighborhood surrounding their alma mater was the same as it always was, but somehow, it felt different. Was this what it was like to get old? The four of them had been here hundreds of times throughout college, although they’d come less and less every year since.

  Robyn, sporting hot-pink tips at the ends of her flat-ironed hair, was closest to looking like she still fit in. Judging by the way she hung back, Mara guessed even Robyn felt like an outsider here.

  “Look how young everyone is!” Robyn said, leaning close to Mara’s ear so she could be heard over the noise. “Is it college night or something?”

  “I’m pretty sure every night is college night here,” Mara answered. Will lagged behind them, looking out the window for Tristan. Luckily, he wasn’t far behind. As soon as they saw each other, Tristan grabbed him up in a wrestler-style bear hug, complete with three loud thumps on the back. Mara thought it looked painful, but Will seemed to feel better.

  Tristan grinned. “I just want to be clear: no matter what kind of day you’ve had, I’m gonna show no mercy at the pool table. Don’t start a game if you’re not prepared to lose.”

  Robyn rolled her eyes. “I love how they talk about pool like it’s ice hockey or something.”

  Mara giggled, and Tristan pointed his finger at her. “You laugh, but I’ve won every game of pool I’ve played for six months straight.”

  “Yeah, too bad your winning streak ends tonight.” Will looked to the girls for support. “Anyone? Mara? Back me up here.”

  Mara patted him on the shoulder. “Love you, honey.”

  “Ouch.”

  Robyn waved to the guys and pointed to the bar. “We’ll be over there. When you guys are done, come join us.” She led Mara to a barstool while Will and Tristan wandered off to an empty pool table in the back of the room. “One beer, and a Coke for my friend,” she said to the bartender.

  “Club soda, actually,” Mara said. The bartender smiled as she filled their glasses, but she didn’t stop for a conversation. Thank goodness.

  “So,” Robyn said. “Bonnie went bonkers, huh?”

  “Something like that.”

  Robyn whistled through the tiny gap between her front teeth. “Dang. Poor guy.”

  “He didn’t have to tell her,” Mara said, more viciously than she meant. Robyn looked a little stunned. “I mean,” Mara added. “We kind of knew she’d react badly, right?”

  “I thought you said it was an accident.”

  “It was. He’d been talking to his sister Becca about the time wreck, and then his mom called him about something else, but he just assumed that Becca must have spilled the beans. Which she hadn’t.”

  “Well, the beans are spilled now,” Robyn said pragmatically. “Are you going to tell your parents?”

  Mara rolled her eyes and reached for the club soda. She wished it tasted like something, at least, but it just felt like a mouth full of bubbles. “Please. I could write it on a bulletin board and my parents wouldn’t even notice.”

  Robyn ran a finger through the condensation that was already building on her glass. “What do you think your grandmother would have said?”

  Mara shrugged, as if she hadn’t been wondering the same thing herself. “I wish I knew. Did I tell you I walked by the house again?”

  “Why do you torture yourself with that?”

  “You sound like Will,” Mara said.

  “I bet. Did he go with you?”

  “I didn’t tell him,” Mara said. When she said it like that, it sounded like she’d kept it from him on purpose. It wasn’t like that. She just . . . hadn’t told him.

  Oh, who was she kidding. Mara hadn’t told Will about it because she knew he’d try to talk her out of it, or make her feel better about it when she came back. She didn’t want to be comforted.

  Robyn raised her eyebrows. “It’s not like you guys to keep things from each other.”

  Mara one-shoulder shrugged.

  “Anyway,” Robyn said. “I think your grandmother would have been on your side. She wouldn’t have liked the idea, but she wouldn’t have wanted you guys to suffer. Not for anything.”

  “I miss her,” Mara said.

  “So do I. Not like you do, of course, but Mrs. Mary Gaines was a class act. I felt like she was my grandmother too.”

  “She would have liked that.” Mara took another sip of her club soda. I wish I could have a beer.

  Mara had never had alcohol, really. She’d been on pain meds since she was eighteen, and she’d been too much of a good girl to drink underage. By the time her twenty-first birthday hit, she’d just put ginger ale in a beer stein and called it a night.

  Mara felt a tap on her elbow. There was Tristan, looking grim and handing her Will’s cell phone. Some
one was calling—it was ringing up and down a five-note scale.

  “Do you want me to answer it?” Mara asked.

  “It’s his mother,” Tristan said. “Will doesn’t feel like answering it just yet. Can’t say I blame him. Can you watch it for him while he just chills out for a bit?”

  Mara hesitated. “Do you think it’d be better to just answer now and get it out of the way? She’s probably not going to stop calling until she gets through.”

  “It wouldn’t be a productive conversation. He talked to her just a few hours ago and they both said their piece. If there’s something more she wants to add, he’s got a voicemail.”

  “Wow,” Mara said, taking the still-ringing cell. “You sounded like a real youth pastor just then. Laying down the law.”

  Tristan smiled. “It’s almost like that’s my job.” He turned and walked back to the pool table, dodging a group of giggling college girls as he did. Will was still making his bridge, lining up the cue to take his shot. He scratched it. Mara grimaced in sympathy and turned back to Robyn.

  “I think you can go ahead and mute that,” Robyn said. “He has a point. Maybe Will and Bonnie both just need to cool off a bit, and then in a day or two, they can talk it out. I can’t imagine she’d really be against it, if she stopped to think. What kind of mother would choose for her son to get shot at if there was a choice?”

  “Technically, he wasn’t the one who was shot at,” Mara said without thinking. “It might not be as personal for her.”

  “Okay, really? Your mother-in-law loves you. I’m sure she wouldn’t want you to get shot, either. It’s just—it’s a new technology. It’s different. There’s some moral ickiness around some of it, but it makes sense for you guys.”

  The phone was silent for a minute. It had gone to voicemail. Bonnie must have hung up and dialed back, because her caller ID flashed across the screen and the phone started ringing again.

  “Seriously, just silence that. Good grief,” Robyn said. Mara pushed the mute button on the side of the phone. Now it just flashed and vibrated, moving slightly across the bar counter as it did.

  “Can I have another one of these?” Robyn asked the bartender. “Thanks.”

  “You already finished it?” Mara asked as the bartender took the empty glass.

  “It was kind of a crappy day for me too,” Robyn said.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t even ask when I called you to vent earlier.”

  “It’s fine. I just, I don’t know,” Robyn said. She sipped the foam off the new beer as soon as the bartender placed it in front of her. “I think I met someone.”

  “Oh?” Mara waited for more, but Robyn didn’t say anything. “Girl? Guy? Where’d you meet? Details, please.”

  “Guy,” Robyn said. “Met him at work. Not one of the patients or anything.”

  “Good. That’d be a little unethical, hooking up with the clientele.”

  “Yeah,” Robyn snorted. “Picture that. ‘Hey, you came for Narcotics Anonymous and some group therapy. You left dating the counselor.’ Not good.”

  “So who is he?”

  Robyn ran one finger in the wet ring her first beer stein had left on the counter. “He’s a counseling intern, actually. Not in the drug rehab program, specifically, he’s just shadowing another counselor who does some stuff with our program and some with a general community therapy program.”

  “Okay,” Mara said. If alcohol was supposed to loosen lips—and it usually loosened Robyn’s—it wasn’t working tonight. Mara felt like she was dragging it out, piece by piece. “So, what’s the problem? Is it because he’s an intern?”

  “No, ethically it’s fine. He doesn’t work for me or even with me, really. We had lunch a few times, flirted a lot, he asked for my number and called it.”

  “And . . . ? This sounds like a good thing.”

  “It is,” Robyn sighed. “It just makes me wonder—okay, I don’t know if this will make sense to you. But it makes me kind of wonder, is that what happened with Jessica?”

  It took Mara a minute to put together what she was saying. “You’re wondering if you and Jessica broke up because maybe you’re not really bi? Is that what you’re saying? I’m confused.”

  “Exactly. I mean, obviously I know I’m bi. I like men, I like women.” Robyn suddenly looked around her and lowered her voice. “Didn’t mean to announce that.”

  “I think you’re fine.”

  “You never know. Sometimes people are—” Robyn shook her head. “But I really thought Jessica and I were it. I could see myself spending my life with her. I never felt like that about anyone I went out with before. And then when it fell apart, I thought, you know, maybe I’d missed my chance.”

  Even though the words weren’t meant for her, they hit Mara hard. No one should have to miss their chance. “But now you’ve met a new person. Maybe he’s the one, and if you and Jessica hadn’t broken up, you wouldn’t have met him. You know?” Mara’s purse buzzed on her lap. “Hold on.” She dug out her cell phone. “It’s Bonnie.”

  “Then who’s calling Will now?” Robyn frowned at the caller ID. “It says Chris. Isn’t that his brother?”

  “Of course he had to get involved,” Mara said. She pushed both of the vibrating cell phones to the side. It looked like they were slow dancing across the counter until one—Will’s—knocked into her glass. “Anyway. Yeah. So maybe this new guy is the forever one. Or even just a for-fun one. It’d be good to see you happy again.”

  “It just makes me wonder. Is everything I did for Jessica for nothing now? Should I really have been with her if I could have fallen in love with someone else?”

  “Oh!” It finally clicked. “Because you came out to your parents when you met Jessica.”

  “Right.”

  “And . . . everything that happened with that.”

  “Yeah.”

  Mara looked down at her club soda. It had stopped fizzing now, unless she moved the glass. When it was still on the counter, it just looked like a glass of plain old water. “I mean, I don’t know what to tell you about that. You are bisexual, you did fall in love with a woman, and I think it was good you gave your family a chance to be supportive of that.” She spun the glass with her fingers, causing it to erupt in a flurry of bubbles. “Even though they didn’t take it.”

  “Right. But now I have no girlfriend, no family, really—I mean I still see them at holidays, but it’s not like it was before—and if things get serious with this guy, I know my parents will be like, ‘I told you so! I told you it was just a phase!’” Robyn took a long drink of her beer. “I kind of knew they’d react that way, but I also kind of wish I didn’t know that for a fact.”

  “Yeah.” Mara looked down at her cell phone buzzing alongside Will’s. “I know exactly what you mean.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  WILL

  The weight of his family’s anger hung over Will like a black cloud. On Sunday, it was metaphorical, but on Monday, the sky was overcast and a few cold, wet rain showers obligingly reflected Will’s mood. The fact that this was the beginning of the week before spring break did nothing to cheer up Will. The kids were already counting down the days until their mini-vacation. There wasn’t going to be a lot of learning going on this week.

  So far, Will had managed to avoid Cliff and his persistent questioning about the assembly. Speaking out to his class on the day of the code red had been a mistake, Will was sure. Now he fit the image of the troubled survivor, anxious to share his experience and ruminate on life lessons. Nothing could be farther from the truth. After accidentally outing himself to his mother last weekend, Will just wanted to stay under the radar and out of the spotlight. If only he could keep out of Cliff’s sights, he might just succeed.

  The charade ended by his first planning period of the day, when Will was making the long trek down the hall to the mailboxes. “Mr. Sterling.” Cliff’s voice boomed down the hallway after him. Will turned slowly on hi
s heel.

  “Yes?”

  “I’d love to put you up on stage during our assembly next week. Given any more thought to it?”

  “No,” Will said. Cliff looked briefly confused. “I mean, no. I’m not up for that.”

  “Okay,” Cliff said, in a tone that said it wasn’t. “If you’re not comfortable, of course we won’t force you to speak.”

  “Thanks,” Will said. “I appreciate it.” He started walking again, backward for a few steps until he was brave enough to turn his back. “Lots of work to do this morning. Catch you later!”

  Will felt Cliff’s eyes watching him all the way down the hall.

  Great. For once, Will had an uninterrupted stretch of time to work—and on a Monday morning too—and now he couldn’t concentrate. He retreated to his office and banged the door closed.

  He needed music. Will logged on to his computer and turned to the local rock station. It was on commercial now, advertising another grand opening for another local business. That was DC, all right. Something was always changing.

  Back home, nothing ever changed. If he had driven down to help Becca over the weekend, he probably could have gone the last five miles of the drive with his eyes closed.

  “Y’all should think about moving down here,” his mom would say, every so often. “You could probably get a job at the high school or lead the church music on Sundays. A dollar goes a lot further down here than in the city. Mara might not even have to work at all.”

  Thinking about his mom made his stomach hurt. She and Chris had finally stopped calling at ten last night. No message since. Maybe they were calming down now.

  I wish. More likely, they were strategizing how to get through to him and Mara.

  The rock station was still on commercials, so Will typed in the radio station from back home. Was it really his home anymore, now that he had said—out loud, even—that he was willing to be a time wrecker? Maybe it was naïve of him to look for comfort in his hometown. Or sadistic. Maybe both.