Some Time Away (Lovers in Time Series, Book 3): Time Travel Romance

by Marilyn Campbell

Maggie's jaw dropped but she kept her voice hushed. "How can you think that? If anyone's to blame it's whatever super power is messing with us."

  "I don't disagree with that. But what if we made the wrong choice about who we were supposed to save? Maybe we missed an important clue. What if the warning message to Robert Davenport made things worse? What if—"

  "Stop," she ordered. "Before we come to any conclusions, we need to find out exactly what happened to this place. The good news is, whatever year this is, you're still a famous author and apparently you still look like your photos. I am confused about why he couldn't find anything on me. I don't do a lot of posting but I do have a Facebook page with a few photos of myself."

  "Maybe he misspelled it."

  She looked doubtful but let it go. "Have you got a story in mind that might get him to fill in some blanks?"

  "I think so, but feel free to jump in if—hey, what was that about a granddaughter?"

  "I met with Lillian Davenport in her office yesterday. She's Robert's granddaughter and the current general manager of the hotel. Or rather she was in our 2018. Now she never existed."

  He was about to say something else when Paul arrived carrying two small bottles of water and a bottle of aspirin. As Noah took the pills and they drank the water, Paul sat down on the sand in front of them.

  "You look better," he told Noah. "I'd like an explanation now."

  Maggie held up her index finger. "One second," she said to Paul. To Noah, she asked, "What is your name?"

  Noah squinted at her.

  "Humor me." She gave him a wink that Paul couldn't see.

  Noah sighed. "Fine. I'm Noah Nash."

  "Where are we?"

  "Crystal Island, off the coast of Florida."

  "And what's today's date?"

  He took a breath before answering. "August 6, no, August 7, 2018."

  "Enough," Paul said with obvious annoyance. "His brain is fine. I radioed the Coast Guard to come pick you up. So you'd better get on with whatever you came here to ask me about."

  Maggie was relieved by his unspoken confirmation of the date. However, rather than a sense of security, the mention of an imminent Coast Guard rescue filled Maggie with dread. A quick glance at Noah told her he probably had the same thought. They dared not leave the island—or the portal—just yet.

  Noah wasted no more time. "Mind you, I have no intention of referring to Crystal Island or the Davenport family by name. In fact, that's why I wanted to interview you—to make sure I don't accidentally use some fact that might suggest Hotel Hellgate—that's the name of the new book—is based on any actual events."

  "I guess that makes some sense," Paul said with a shrug. "Especially considering everything that happened here. Besides, a big-name horror author suggesting he based his book on Crystal Island might just stir up more attention than we already have, which is definitely not to our advantage at the moment."

  Through a series of carefully-worded questions, Noah and Maggie extracted the revised biography of Robert Davenport.

  Around the time they delivered their message of doom, Robert became a fanatical believer in all things mystical. Anyone claiming to be a psychic or medium was given free rein on the island. As stories spread about ghostly encounters and mysterious deaths, the regular, wealthy clientele found more pleasant places to vacation.

  When the Okeechobee hurricane took a great number of lives and destroyed a portion of the hotel in 1928, Robert's fascination became a debilitating obsession. Rather than repairing the hotel, his savings went into the pockets of charlatans who claimed to have the ability to exorcise the evil spirits that were causing all the problems on the island... in exchange for large amounts of cash.

  Even before the stock market crashed, Robert was deeply in debt and virtually without income. In 1930, Patricia and Chester left Crystal Island and moved in with her family in New York. But Robert refused to go with them. Despite his financial downfall, he insisted on remaining in residence on the island in order to maintain what he called his family legacy.

  Although Patricia never visited the island again, she used her personal inheritance to make sure Robert was cared for until he died following a bout of pneumonia in 1952.

  By the time Maggie and Noah heard Paul's version of what had happened, they had no doubt that their meeting with Robert Davenport was the trigger for his ruined life.

  "Paul? The Coast Guard just radioed with a message for you."

  Paul looked up at the loudspeaker and called, "I'll be there in a minute."

  "And please bring our guests with you. They look harmless enough."

  Maggie's gaze shot from the loudspeaker to Noah, who looked just as surprised as she was to hear the woman's voice.

  "Apparently, my wife would like to meet you," Paul said as he got to his feet. "I'm afraid she's a fan."

  They followed him across the sand, over some broken concrete, and along a nearly invisible path in the thick foliage, until they came to a portion of the exterior wall that appeared to be completely boarded up.

  "Turn around," he ordered and they obeyed. A moment later, he said, "Okay. Follow me."

  The panel of boards had been moved sideways to reveal a very narrow opening through which they squeezed one at a time. It took Maggie a few minutes of staring at rubble and stacks of broken furniture to realize they were in the speakeasy version of the Amethyst Cave lounge. Noah squeezed her hand and she smiled up at him despite the sad state of the room.

  "Step only where I do," Paul ordered.

  As they continued to follow his zigging and zagging through the room, they passed the amethyst geode where Maggie had originally heard The Weeping Woman. Not only did she hear nothing now, she felt nothing coming from the stone. Its energy was totally depleted.

  As they crossed from the lounge to another boarded up wall across the wide hallway, she caught a glimpse of an even greater disaster in the lobby, where shattered glass covered every inch of the large, roof-less area. Paul didn't ask them to turn around this time as he pushed the boarded section along an invisible track to reveal an ancient elevator, similar to the one they had taken to visit the Davenports.

  "I don't mean to be rude," Noah said as they stepped into the iron cage. "But why hasn't any of this damage been repaired, or at least cleared away?"

  Paul grinned and manipulated the gears and levers to get the old machine rising. "Doesn't look very inviting does it? Well, that's part of it. It's enough to discourage the average trespasser. And if someone's more serious about causing us trouble, there are a lot of booby-traps all over this place. The high-tech security system is more for my wife's peace of mind."

  "I would also have some serious concerns about the state of mind of someone living like this on purpose," Maggie noted. "Especially once I found out he had a shotgun."

  Paul chuckled. "I only fire warning shots... and those are blanks. But it usually does the trick even before they get close enough to look inside."

  Noah had another question ready. "You mentioned some illegitimate claims and law suits. I'd think the condition of the property would be enough to discourage most people."

  Paul brought the elevator to a stop on the third floor before responding. "There is that. Unfortunately, until all the claims and suits are dismissed, I can't generate the kind of money needed to rebuild. But I'm patient and, as you'll see in a minute, we're quite comfortable."

  Paul hadn't exaggerated when he said they were comfortable. Beyond another false door was a totally renovated, thoroughly modern apartment. The instant they stepped inside, they were exuberantly greeted by a petite redheaded young woman.

  "Hello! Welcome to our home. Can I get you a cup of coffee? Or maybe you're ready for a glass of wine. Oh, my. I just realized you're probably starving. Just give me a couple minutes to throw something together."

  "Noah Nash, Maggie Harrison, that bundle of energy is my wife, Sheryl."

  "Lily?" Paul called toward a hallway. "Would you come here please? I'd like
you to meet someone."

  The name surprised Maggie but the teenage girl who appeared a few seconds later looked a lot like a young Lillian Davenport. But rather than the pretty girl with the happy smile Maggie had seen in the photograph, this girl looked more like the stern-faced, mature Lillian who had threatened her. This girl was definitely not happy.

  "It's nice to meet you, Lily. You have a very pretty name."

  Lily smirked. "It's a funeral flower."

  Paul's jaw clenched and he glared at his daughter but Sheryl quickly lightened the air. "Mr. Nash is a famous writer," she told her daughter.

  "What do you write?" Lily asked him in a flat voice.

  "Horror novels," Noah answered. "Do you enjoy that genre? I could send you—"

  "No thank you," she said, cutting off his offer in the same disinterested tone. "May I go back to my room now?" she asked her mother but didn't wait for an answer before walking away.

  Paul took a slow deep breath.

  It was Maggie's turn to try to ease the tension. "I guess teenagers are the same whether they grow up in a crowded city or on a private island."

  "She's just like my brother Brad. Can't get away from the island fast enough. We've already agreed to send her to college on the mainland but I can tell, she'll never be content to stay here."

  "Now, Paul," Sheryl said in a gently scolding voice. "You don't know that. Once we get the hotel up and running again, everything will change. There will be lots of guests and social events and boats coming and going. Just like it was in the beginning. She'll want to be part of it then."

  Paul forced a smile. "My wife, the eternal optimist."

  "Please sit," Sheryl told Maggie and Noah. "Which will it be? Coffee or wine?"

  "Coffee," they both answered simultaneously.

  As she headed toward the kitchen, she said, "And I'll make sandwiches with my home-made bread and special dressing. Do you prefer turkey or ham?"

  Noah said turkey and Maggie requested ham, but Sheryl gave no indication that she'd heard them.

  "So, where were we?" Paul asked as he motioned for them to sit on the couch while he took one of the chairs on the other side of a rectangular coffee table.

  A purposeful glance from Noah told Maggie to take over the "interview" lead. "Robert had just died and it looked like the State of Florida was gearing up to take possession of Crystal Island by eminent domain."

  Paul nodded. "Right. From what I was told, grandma Patricia was willing to let the State have it for a substantial payment to my father, Chester, the only heir to Robert's estate. But his wife, Irene, was intrigued by the Beat Generation movement and convinced him to thumb his nose at civilization and make a life for themselves on his island."

  "That must have been really hard."

  Paul chuckled. "Dad spent his childhood in a luxury hotel filled with staff then moved to Patricia's family mansion filled with servants. You'd think he'd have given up after a couple months. But the opposite happened. He had enough money to get the generator working and make this apartment livable. They learned to fish and harvest their own fruits and vegetables. They always seemed happy to me. And when she had a fatal heart attack, dad wasn't far behind her."

  "So you and Brad were both born here and you never left?" Noah asked.

  Paul nodded. "Brad and I both went to college in Florida so that we were close enough to come back here on holidays. When Brad finished with a degree in hotel management, he headed straight for the opposite side of the country. But I knew I had to come back here. I learned how to program computers so that I could make a good living without leaving the island."

  At that moment, Sheryl set a steaming teapot and a plate of cookies on the table between them and sat down beside Paul.

  He squeezed her hand. "I was just lucky to meet my perfect partner."

  Maggie smiled at the couple but one glance at Noah told her he noticed what she did—Sheryl had brought a teapot that smelled of a strong herb rather than coffee, and no cups to drink whatever was in the teapot, and instead of sandwiches with either turkey or ham, there were cookies with burned edges. She had also had a change of personality. The perky, thrilled-to-have-some-company woman was now silent, sad-looking and her pupils were obviously dilated.

  "Does Brad have children?" Noah asked.

  "No. He's never met anyone he wanted to settle down with."

  And with that comment, Paul grew quiet as well.

  Maggie suddenly remembered what Sheryl had said over the loudspeaker. "Did the Coast Guard say when they might get here?"

  Paul's attention immediately returned to her. "Oh, that's right. Sheryl, honey, you said the Coast Guard radioed with a message? Did you write it down like we talked about?"

  She turned and stared at him with a sad expression.

  "It's okay," he told her, giving her hand a squeeze. He rose, went to the kitchen and returned with a piece of paper in hand. "They should arrive any minute," he announced. "They'll meet you by the rock where you came in. I'll have to lead you out."

  Without further discussion, he went to the front door and left.

  Not wanting to fall behind and accidently run into one of Paul's booby traps, Noah and Maggie both hurried to catch up.

  "It was very nice meeting you, Sheryl," Maggie said before walking out the door, but she got no response.

  The moment they were on the beach, Paul pointed them in the direction of the geode and went right back into the hotel. The next instant, Maggie and Noah took off at a trot and didn't talk until they reached their destination.

  "Conclusions?" Noah asked after several seconds passed in silence.

  "Are you kidding? I don't even know where to start. That was a whole lot of crazy we just saw. We gave a man a hint about his death and it caused everything in his family to change. One person in particular no longer exists. Since I never asked to be sent back in time, I refuse to accept the responsibility for such a mess. At least we're back in 2018 and it doesn't seem to have touched your life, so that's something positive."

  "Maybe. Maybe not. Remember what you said about the ripple in the pond theory. We won't know for sure until we go home and check everything out."

  "Home." Maggie's shoulders slumped. "I never thought I would miss my little apartment so much."

  "It hasn't been all bad... has it?" Noah tucked a loose strand of Maggie's hair behind her ear.

  She saw the concern in his eyes and wrapped her arms around his waist. "Most of it has been amazing. I'm hoping that part of it doesn't have to be over just because the resort and our belongings are gone with the wind. I'm also hoping you'll come back to my apartment with me. We still have a book to work on."

  He kissed her forehead and grinned. "Or we could just stop there for an hour to pick up some of your things, catch the first flight to Maine and work on the book at my home."

  Maggie rested her head on his chest. "Mmmm. That sounds even better." Noah held her close and ran his hands up and down her back, but she couldn't make herself completely relax. "Shouldn't the Coast Guard be here by now?"

  "De Coast Guard will not be coming at all," a man's voice informed them in a sympathetic tone... and a distinct Jamaican accent.

  Maggie instantly stepped out of Noah's arms and gaped at the man. "Reynard?"

  "Yes, it be me. Sent on another errand, dough not in secret dis time."

  "This is not our fault," Maggie said sharply.

  Noah's voice was even angrier. "You can go right back and tell your bosses, whoever they are, that we're done playing puppet for them."

  "Dey have discussed your situation and agreed dat ya are not to be held responsible," Reynard assured them. "Because I interacted with ya before, I was assigned to explain—"

  "Explain what exactly?" Noah demanded. "Nothing that's happened makes any sense. Why us? Why the mystery? Who has the power to send us through time?"

  "I do not have permission to answer dose questions. I can only explain dat ya were sent to de past to save someone, bu
t not Robert Davenport. It was to be a small event correction, with limited but positive results. Robert was fated to die when he did, de way he did, for de good of Crystal Island and protection of de portal. De method ya chose to change dat fate created a scenario dat had not been foreseen. Dey would have prevented ya from intervening in Robert's fate if it had. But unpredictability is one of de human traits dat fascinates dem."

  "You're still talking in riddles," Noah complained. "The bottom line is, we played our parts, the show's over. Now just let us go home and we'll pretend the whole thing never happened."

  "But dat is not possible," Reynard said with a shake of his head. "Ya are being given another opportunity to complete your original mission. T'ree full days still remain before your deadline."

  "That's totally unfair!" Maggie exclaimed. "Without any specific clues, we prevented a man from killing himself. That should satisfy whatever twisted mind came up with the game. Under the circumstances, we should have the right to refuse."

  "Maggie's right," Noah agreed. "You told us we had to figure out who we had to save. You never said there might be a red herring or two!"

  Reynard looked upward for several seconds before speaking again. "Granted. Ya may refuse, but I am to tell ya de reason ya should not. Ya discovered dat Lillian Davenport was never conceived in dis timeline. But she is not de only one. De Davenport Resort was responsible for many introductions of pairs who would never meet in any other way. At least not in dat lifetime. De destruction ya see here on de island was not limited to de Davenport family. T'ousands of other lives were altered dat should not have been. Just like Lillian Davenport, Maggie Harrison was never born."

  "How could that be?" questioned Noah.

  "Her grandmother was being courted by a young man from a wealthy family. When he went on a vacation with his family to Crystal Island, she met and fell in love with Maggie's grandfather." To Maggie he said, "Because dere was no Crystal Island vacation, your grandmother never met your grandfather. She married the wealthy young man and although she lived a life of ease, she never had children."

  Maggie let that sink in. "So I was never born. That's why Paul couldn't find my Facebook page. But then, how am I standing here?"