The Hope Chest

by Jacquie D'Alessandro

  She tried to twist free. “Don’t touch me.”

  “Why not?” he asked, his voice calm, albeit a bit hurt and puzzled.

  “Because,” she sputtered, so angry she was shouting, “I am not made of stone.”

  He smiled. “About time you admitted that.”

  She was about to attempt to twist away again, but he tweaked her nipples, shooting sparks of pleasure to her center. “Kendar…please.”

  “Please, what? Please press all the right buttons so you can have an orgasm? Please distract me while we wait to see if the experiment worked? Please don’t think?”

  “Would that be so bad?” As fast as her anger had washed over her, it subsided. She simply couldn’t stay angry with the man when he was so logical. Reasonable. Sexy. She leaned back and enjoyed what his hands were doing.

  “I want more than an orgasm.”

  “How about two?” she teased, unable to hold on to even annoyance when she wanted him so much.

  He groaned. “I want a relationship. Is that so wrong?”

  “This is ridiculous. I may be dead in a week. You may have to leave tomorrow.”

  “All the more reason not to deny our feelings now,” he countered with a logic that made her heart pound and a lump form in her throat.

  “Okay…Okay. I’ll tell you my feelings as soon as I figure them out.”

  “Sara, give me something of yourself that you’ve never shared with anyone else.”

  “That will satisfy you?” she pleaded.

  “For now. Then I’ll make love to you. All night if that’s what you want.”

  All night? Yes, she wanted him all night and tomorrow night and the next one, after that, too. She closed her eyes, enjoying his gentle caresses that soothed and fired her up all at the same time. Enjoying even more that he wanted to really know her. “When I was a little girl, my parents died. They left me alone. And it hurt. It hurt so much that I swore I’d never let myself love again. I wouldn’t risk loving someone for fear of suffering the pain of losing that person. I studied the past, because the past was safe. Everyone was already dead and gone. Then I met a guy and my resolutions went out the window. But he died in an accident, left me just as my parents had.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “After that, I was done with love. So you see, Kendar, I can’t love. I’m damaged. And the fact that you may have to leave me, makes it impossible for me to have more than superficial—”

  He angled his mouth over hers to cut off her words and kissed her deeply. She melted into him, her breasts absorbing the warmth of his chest, his heart beating next to hers. The intensity and tenderness of his kiss stole her breath. And then he jerked back and gasped, “If you tell me you felt nothing, then you’re a liar.”

  “I’m disappointed that you stopped. I’m disappointed that you’re upset with me.”

  “I’m not upset. I thought you had more courage.”

  “I don’t. I’m scared.”

  “Of what?”

  “Losing you.”

  His arms closed around her, his mood turning quiet and gentle. “Listen to yourself. You wouldn’t fear losing me, not unless you cared.”

  She hated him for pointing that out. “Damn you.” But his mouth closed over hers again, and the smart man that he was didn’t give her a chance to say another word. He lifted her hips and she straddled him, and they ended up against the wall, making love upright.

  And when she exploded, lights and sunspots bursting in her head, she shattered, fragmented, barely noting that he fell apart right along with her, and when he did, he shouted her name. It took long moments before the fragments settled and her head stopped spinning. Long moments during which she clung to Kendar in support, wondering what the hell had just happened between them.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  THE HUMMING in Kendar’s ears had to be the aftermath from the rushing orgasm, didn’t it? But no, he’d fallen asleep in the chair, holding Sara in his arms. The hum had awakened him.

  It was coming from the alien time machine.

  Gently, he kissed Sara awake, enjoying how she clung to him in sleep in a way she wouldn’t when awake. As her eyes opened and she regained awareness, she turned her head toward the machine. “Something’s happening.”

  They both dressed and he’d barely finished fastening his pants when a light flashed. And Terry suddenly rejoined them.

  Sara rushed to the other woman, her face full of concern. “Terry, are you all right? How do you feel? What happened?”

  Terry swung her legs over the stone pallet and sat up. Still looking sick, her face pale, she shuddered. “I went to the future but I couldn’t stay. Scientists there believe the machine is broken in the on position.”

  “Broken?” Sara exchanged a long, silent, painful glance with Kendar.

  “They aren’t sure but they said that if I got pulled back to 2405, it would confirm their theory.”

  “Did they say what we should do?” Sara frowned, and Kendar’s heart went out to her.

  “They said not to try to shut it off. Instead, they want you to send Kendar to them, but if that doesn’t work, and they don’t think it will, they want you to look to the past.”

  Huh? That made no sense to him. What did Sara’s past have to do with fixing the future? Kendar helped Terry to her feet and guided her back to her quarters.

  Meanwhile, Sara checked her communicator and gave him the news when he returned. “More women are sick and it’s spreading.” She gazed at Kendar. “I hate asking—”

  “You don’t have to ask.” He climbed onto the pallet, his heart full of sorrow. Either he would go to the future and lose Sara, or he would stay here and lose Sara. Either way, he lost.

  And from the desperate look in her eyes, she’d feel the same loss. Reaching out he took her hand. “I’m not sorry I’ve known you.”

  She bit her bottom lip. Her eyes brimmed and then she flung herself into his arms. “I’ll miss you.”

  “Maybe not. The scientists don’t think this will work. We don’t even know how long it takes the machine to recycle.”

  “We’ll wait as long as it took for Terry to leave and return.”

  “While I’m gone, do as Terry suggested and look to the past. Since you’re the one who apparently changed the time line, it makes sense to study your history to search for anomalies.”

  “I’ll look. I know time is supposed to have a ripple effect. The future can be changed by altering the past.” She shook her head. “But I don’t know what I’m doing.”

  He kissed her goodbye, wishing he didn’t have to put her through the possibility of losing someone else whom she’d come to care about. However, he believed he was going to return. He had to. She meant too much to him for them to spend the rest of their lives apart. “You’ll figure it out, Sara. I have confidence in you. Now, set the dial and let the machine do its job.”

  SARA HAD HAD no choice but to do as Kendar asked. And in a beat of her aching heart, she sent him back to the future. Then the tears flowed and the pain knifed through her. Why did this keep happening to her? Every time she found someone to love, she lost that person.

  Come on, Sara. There’s no time for a pity-party. Terry’s dying. So are others.

  Get a grip. Look to the past.

  Brushing away her tears with the back of her hand, Sara eyed her computer, which was full of notes, history and ancient civilizations she’d studied. However, if she had changed the future with her actions, it made sense that she had personally altered the time line. And if the solution was to modify her own past, then she needed to look at her life and the lives of her ancestors.

  Striding to the chest she’d brought with her from Earth, she retrieved the heirloom and carried it back to the chair. She’d always kept her journal inside the box and she now hoped the words she’d written might provide a clue. But hours later, she was frustrated, worried and hungry. With no idea what to look for, she was stumped. Without Kendar to steady her, she had trouble ke
eping down the panic—because she was failing and had no idea what to do.

  Was she supposed to go back into time and convince herself not to travel to Mars? If she convinced her yester-year self not to go to Mars then she wouldn’t have activated the alien machine and women on Mars wouldn’t be dying. That was assuming her presence had turned on the machine—they weren’t even sure of that. She eyed Lady Amanda Pratt’s journal. Perhaps Sara was supposed to prevent her ancestor from meeting Maxwell Wolford, Earl of Dorsey, her husband. Then Sara would never be born.

  But if her ancestors didn’t meet, then Ryan Kinsey wouldn’t be born to create the fuel formula that brought people to Mars. Not only wouldn’t she have ever been born and live to go to Mars, neither might Kendar, or thousands of others.

  The endless possibilities made her head ache, her stomach growl. Deciding she needed food and that she should check on Terry, she left the chamber. Minutes later, she returned in a dejected stupor. Terry had been so weak she couldn’t swallow and Sara had had difficulty holding back tears at another imminent loss. She didn’t know Terry well, but she was too young to die and the possibility that Sara was responsible for her illness sickened her.

  Sending Kendar back clearly hadn’t helped change anything for the better. Sara worried that he wouldn’t return, but supposed he was better off in his own time than staying here to watch her die, too. Besides, unlike Terry, who the machine had sent back, he belonged in the future and perhaps the machine might sense that and leave him there.

  Concentrating on her own life was difficult, but the discipline she’d learned in college helped her work her way through years of notes. As the time neared when she expected Kendar to return, if he returned at all, she found it harder to sit still and keep reading. She missed Kendar’s steady encouragement, his reassurance and his belief in her. And she missed his warmth. Her limbs had felt icy since he’d left and no matter how many clothes she’d donned, she couldn’t seem to get warm. She made tea and still shivers racked her.

  Eventually, she realized that she wasn’t ill from missing Kendar. She was in the early stages of the same sickness Terry had, which reminded her once again that time was running out. She had to find a solution, but was no closer to doing so when the machine hummed.

  Dropping the journal, she rushed to the time machine. And suddenly, Kendar was there, looking so good her knees almost buckled. Selfishly, her heart lifted at the sight of him. He took one look at her face and held out his arms. “I’m back.”

  When his strong arms and familiar scent wrapped her up safely in his cocoonlike embrace, she felt as though she’d come home. She could have stayed right there for however much time she had left, but he broke the embrace. “According to scientists in the future, the time line in 1820 needs a repair.”

  “1820?”

  His gaze searched hers. “Do you know the significance of that date?”

  “It’s the year two of my ancestors met, Lady Pratt and Maxwell Wolford. I guess I should have been reading Lady Pratt’s journal, not mine.” She started to fetch it, but he held her back, his expression tender, concerned.

  “You look exhausted.”

  “I’m sick.”

  “Then rest.”

  She shook her head. “I’m going to get weaker, not stronger. Poor Terry is…I’d better read while I still can.”

  Sara opened the lid of the chest, her eyes alighting on the journal, the paper pages yellowed, frayed and fragile from age. Her knuckle grazed the box’s lid. Where was Ryan’s formula? The one he’d carved into the box?

  “The formula is…gone.” Making sure it wasn’t a trick of the light, she ran her fingers over the lid to find it smooth and unmarred.

  “Formula?”

  “My ancestor carved a formula into the lid of this box. It was here when I came to Mars. Now it’s disappeared.”

  And then it hit her.

  “What?” Kendar must have seen the glimmer of excitement in her eyes, the one she always got when puzzle pieces clicked into place.

  “Using the portal has altered the past. Time has changed.”

  “You’re certain?”

  “This box has been in my family for generations. I played with it as a child. It’s not the same and that may mean it’s the key. Using the time machine has changed the past and every moment we delay might be tearing apart the past further, and therefore upsetting the future.” If she’d been cold before, now she was ice, ready to shatter.

  Kendar took a seat, made a place on his lap, and then after she settled against him, tucked a blanket around her. “Better?”

  “Thanks.” She opened the journal’s leather cover and her hands shook. She didn’t just fear she might tear the delicate paper but that the words that she was supposed to read might have altered or vanished like the fuel formula.

  “Why don’t I read to you?” he suggested and she adored the way he always tried to help her without mentioning her shortcomings.

  “I’d like that.”

  The story he read was old and familiar and helped her rioting nerves settle down. Not only had she altered the future, now she had messed with the past. Who knows what the ripples in time would do to the fabric of history?

  In a voice strong, yet gentle, Kendar retold the story of Lady Amanda Pratt, how she’d crossed paths with Lord Maxwell Wolford, who’d bought an unusual heirloom chest right out from under her nose from Gibson’s Antiques and Curiosities shop, and how they’d subsequently discovered that the heirloom would only open to Amanda’s touch.

  “What!” Sara straightened so quickly, she knocked the blanket to the floor. “Did you make up that part?”

  “What part?”

  “About the box opening only to Lady Pratt’s touch?”

  “Of course not. I read it right there.” He pointed, guessing at the reason for her upset and displaying a keen intelligence. “What’s different now?”

  “I’ve read that story dozens of times and I don’t recall that detail.” Her eyes narrowed. “Or maybe I didn’t realize the significance until now.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Before I came to Mars, I asked a locksmith to install a lock on the box so it would only open to family members who shared my DNA. Back in 1820 England that kind of technology didn’t exist.”

  “You had the lock altered before you came to Mars, but according to the journal the lock would open only to your ancestor’s touch.”

  “Exactly. After I altered the lock, I must have sent it back to my ancestor. There’s no other explanation for the box only opening to her touch. The box is the key!”

  “So now what?”

  “I think to balance time, I must take the heirloom back to 1820 and place it in Mr. Gibson’s shop so Amanda can track down her earl.”

  “Stars! You don’t know that!” His arms closed around her and he pulled the blanket back up, but not even his heat stopped her shivers.

  “We don’t know anything for certain, but this heirloom is also supposed to have the fuel formula to Mars etched in the top. I’ve seen that formula but now it’s gone. Look,” she smoothed her hand over the lid, “there’s no design. I think I’m supposed to put it there for Ryan to find.”

  “This time loop is very confusing.”

  She forced herself to leave the warmth and security of his lap, determined to do what she must. “I need to look up the formula and engrave it on the box’s lid before I take it back to Cardiff, United Kingdom, 1820. That’s how I’m going to make time whole again.” She was certain. Although she hated the idea of leaving Kendar, and she didn’t much like the idea of living in 1820 either, she couldn’t allow her feelings to interfere with what she knew must be done.

  Sara now believed it was her fate to find love and lose it. Each time she lost a loved one, it seemed as though a piece of her heart went missing. Soon, she wouldn’t have one left. But she couldn’t dwell on how much she would miss Kendar, or how little time they’d shared together. Or that airplanes had
n’t yet been invented in 1820. “Women are dying. I need to get busy.”

  He snagged her wrist and tugged her toward him. “Sara, there’s no rush. If the machine sends you back and you fix the problem, no one will die.”

  “We don’t know that,” she countered. “There may only be a small window of opportunity before you and I and everything we know ceases to exist. Waiting would be foolish. Risky.”

  “And I still don’t understand how my coming back here means you have to go back there to balance things.”

  “Maybe the aliens made the machine that way. Maybe it’s broken. I don’t know. But we have too many clues inside my heirloom to ignore them…or to delay.” She hugged him, her throat tight, tears welling in her eyes. “I have to work. And then I have to leave. I’m sorry.”

  “I understand.” But he held her closer, until she could feel his heart racing, and only with the utmost reluctance did he loosen his hold. “Do you suppose I could go with you?”

  She wished with every cell in her body that it was possible. “The machine says only one person can travel at a time.” She saw the longing in his eyes that matched her own yearning to be together. A yearning she had to deny.

  “And you mustn’t try to follow me. We can’t change the time line to suit our whims. As much as I would love to be with you, as much as I’d like to stay in my own time, we can’t take a chance of altering history.”

  “By going back, you are altering history.”

  “I’m supposed to alter history. I have to place this box in the attic of Gibson’s Antiques and Curiosities shop because the journal says it was there with a lock that will open only to Lady Amanda’s touch.” Sara kissed him then, a desperate prelude to a goodbye that would come all too soon. It didn’t take long for her to look up the fuel formula in her computer and carve it into the top of the box.

  Heart heavy, shoulders sagging under her sorrow, she headed to the pallet, the box in her hands. Unable to speak past the tightness in her throat, she nodded for Kendar to set the time dial to 1820, the place dial to Cardiff, England. Instead, he brushed his lips over hers one last time, a tear falling onto her cheek. One of his tears.