Time to Love Again

by Speer, Flora

  “Mark,” he said. “I told you last night to call me Mark.”

  “Would you like some coffee?” Willi headed toward the stove.

  “Why don’t I take you out to breakfast? It’s the least I can do after waking you so early, and we have plenty of time before you have to be at work.”

  Willi did not ask him how he knew what time she started work. She just watched while he picked up the afghan from the couch and folded it, laying it across the back of the couch. He did not appear to be at all disdainful of the place where she lived. In fact, he looked right at home there, but Willi was embarrassed.

  It was all she could afford, a one-room apartment with a couch that opened into a bed, a miniature kitchen built into one wall and hidden by a folding door, and a bathroom Willi could barely turn around in. Usually she was proud of the way she kept it neat and cheerful with lots of plants in the window, but now she thought it looked shabby. At least she hadn’t opened the couch, so her unexpected guest wasn’t confronted by rumpled bedding. She had been so tired the night before that she had just pulled off her clothes, wrapped up in her bathrobe, and dropped onto the couch with the afghan for a blanket.

  “After everything you did for India, I should make breakfast for you,” she said to Mark.

  “Not a chance. I want a big meal, and I don’t want you so preoccupied with cooking that you can’t talk to me. What about the Blue Ridge Coffee House?” Willi was standing next to the kitchen wall, and Mark was at the far side of the room, but when his brilliant blue eyes met hers, she felt as if he was caressing her.

  “You look softer today than you did last night,” he murmured. “What a remarkably pretty woman you are. If it weren’t such a tired line, I’d ask you if we’ve ever met before.”

  She was startled by his words because she felt the same sense of familiarity. But she knew they had never met before yesterday. There was no way she would ever have forgotten a man like Mark Brant.

  “I’ll get dressed.” Willi broke the disturbing eye contact and took a step toward the bathroom. She paused. “Just so you know, I’ve sworn off men for a while. After what happened with Hank, I need a breather, to get my head together.”

  “It’s only breakfast,” he said, smiling. As she began to close the bathroom door, Willi heard him add, “Breakfast and a few dozen questions.”

  Willi didn’t go to the Blue Ridge Coffee Shop very often and had never been there in early morning. Among all the tweedy academic types and the conservative businessmen in dark suits and neckties who were apparently holding serious meetings over breakfast, Willi felt unusually conspicuous in her black leather outfit and maroon turtleneck. She also felt slightly naked without her usual heavy mask of makeup. Mark’s comment that she was pretty, coming when her face was completely bare, had led her to apply only a dusting of powder, a smudge of dark eye shadow, and a single coat of mascara. Her blood red lipstick she had blotted until it was no more than a rosy tint on her lips. The look Mark had given her as they left her apartment convinced her she had done the right thing in toning down the makeup, but she wasn’t used to going out that way. Heavy makeup and black leather were her armor against the snubs of an uncaring world. Now part of her armor was missing, and she was beginning to think she needed it because, while plying her with a huge breakfast, Mark was grilling her like the sausages on his plate.

  “I think you have just learned everything there is to know about me,” she protested. “All these questions make me uneasy. I don’t usually talk about myself or my life, except to India.”

  “About India,” he said, watching her with probing eyes.

  “It’s your turn now. Tell me about yourself,” Willi said quickly, to intercept the questions she saw coming on the subject of her best friend. “What do you do? Are you a college professor like your brother? You don’t look solemn enough for that.”

  “I can be serious when the subject demands it.” He certainly looked serious enough right now. “I’m an astrophysicist.”

  “Oh, dear God, not another one!” Willi nearly choked on her French toast.

  “What do you mean, ‘another one?’” His voice had taken on a strangely cold timbre.

  “Hank was always involved with numbers and complicated formulas, too,” Willi said. “I was hoping maybe you taught English literature, or Romance languages, or possibly you might be an artist. I would love to meet someone with a job I could understand.”

  “Would it sound simpler if I told you I have worked on the space program?” He watched her sip her coffee. “The caffeine doesn’t seem to be doing much good. You still look depressed. Willi, I want to know what Hank was doing yesterday.”

  “He was just fooling around, playing games with the computer.” Willi’s gaze dropped to the cup in her hand. She set it down very carefully, bracing herself for more questions.

  “A man in my line of work knows more than most people about computers, and about what they can do.” Mark’s hand covered hers. His voice was compelling. “Willi, look at me.”

  Reluctantly, she met his bright blue eyes. Having done so, she found she could not look away.

  “Tell me what Hank was doing.”

  “I honestly don’t understand it,” she said.

  “Was he trying to break into some other system?”

  “You mean, is he a hacker? No, I’m sure he’s not. Hank is too independent to get involved in someone else’s work. I think he wants to be the sole author of any discoveries he makes. He was talking about a Nobel Prize.”

  “Was he? That suggests something more than an idle game. Willi, I am serious about this. I want you to tell me anything you know about Hank’s work. Professor Moore told me you were with Hank all day yesterday and that he has often seen you in Hank’s office in the past. You are too intelligent not to have noticed the changes Hank made to that computer. Why did he add those components?” When she sat silent, staring down at his hand over hers, Mark said, “Talk, Willi.”

  “Did you join the CIA after you left NASA?” she asked.

  “Don’t ask silly questions.” His voice was stern. “I haven’t said anything about either organization. And stop putting me off.”

  “Maybe you worked for the Spanish Inquisition.”

  ““Willi.” Now he sounded thoroughly exasperated.

  “Okay, I give up.” Willi did not want Mark Brant to be angry with her. She wanted him to like her and to speak to her in a kinder voice. “Hank always made me promise to keep quiet about anything I saw or heard in his office. But I don’t know why I should still be loyal to him. He never really cared about me. I was just a convenience to him. He admitted as much last night. And after what he did to India—”

  “What did he do to India? Where was she when you said Hank had ‘lost’ her? Why was she missing for so long? Why did she look sick and nearly faint when I walked in on you?”

  “Why are you asking all these questions? Who are you?”

  “Just call me a curious scientist.” His blue eyes were almost hypnotic in their intensity. His voice was low and gentle, coaxing her. “Tell me what you know.”

  “Hank has some crazy theories about space and time. He’s trying to prove the theories are right.”

  “Go on.” The blue eyes did not waver. “How did India get involved? Was she working with him?”

  “No. It was my fault.” Quickly, she explained how she had asked Hank to give India computer lessons. “According to Hank, he arrived at his office just as something unexpected was happening. He claimed that India had vanished into the computer.”

  “So the first time I walked in on you, during the afternoon, Hank was trying to get her back?” Mark did not seem at all surprised by what Willi had told him. Nor did he question whether it had actually happened. “How long did this episode last?”

  Willi told him everything she knew, including the brief, mysterious appearance of a man with a sword. Upon hearing that piece of information, Mark’s face went white and tense, and he made he
r repeat what she had said.

  “Have you finished your meal?” he asked with just the slightest hint of impatience.

  “I couldn’t possibly eat anything else.” His persistent questioning was making her more than nervous. She was beginning to be frightened.

  “Let’s go, then.” Mark was on his feet, reaching out to help her up from the table. Willi was used to taking care of herself, but it was nice to have a man’s hand on her back, guiding her toward the door.

  “Where are we going?” she asked.

  “To the university,” he replied. “I just hope we aren’t too late.”

  “Damn it! I should have taken care of this last night.” Mark looked around Hank’s office in disgusted frustration. “I should have expected him to dismantle everything after we left.”

  “What you should have done was call me, right away,” said the chief of Campus Security, who had let them into the office. “You say Professor Moore is planning to file an official complaint about Marsh’s activities? That will be a help, but let’s see if we can speed up the investigation. Can you tell me what’s missing in here?”

  “Nothing that belongs to the university is gone.” It was Willi who answered him. She picked up a heavy electrical cable that had been disconnected, then neatly coiled and left on top of the table. “Every piece of equipment Hank was using is still here, but the room has been completely rearranged. I’m sorry, but I don’t remember exactly how the components were connected.” Sighing, she put the cable down again.

  “Are you saying that he didn’t steal anything?” The security chief looked offended.

  “He did take away his papers,”’ Willi said. “I’d be willing to bet he took any floppy disks he had, along with all the written information about his programs.”

  “If there hasn’t been a theft,” said the security chief, “then I don’t think the local police will be interested in this. The university may want to sue him to recover the information on his project, but that will be up to Administration. I will have the lock on this door changed, just in case he plans to come back and remove any of this stuff. That’s about all I can do here.” He locked the door with his master key, then went off muttering about having to write up a report.

  “Thanks for your help,” Mark said to Willi. “You don’t want to be late for work. I have to make a few phone calls.”

  “You can’t dismiss me that easily,” she declared. “I have answered every question you put to me. Now I have some questions for you.”

  “I’m sure you have, and I’ll answer them as soon as I can. Willi, you said earlier that you were going to call India during your lunch break. When you do, will you ask her if she’ll talk to me in the next day or so? It’s important. And if you should see Hank, be careful.”

  “He wouldn’t hurt me,” Willi said. “Hank isn’t a violent man.”

  “Not in the way you mean, no. But he could put you into the same danger India was in. I don’t want anything unpleasant to happen to you.” Mark placed one finger beneath Willi’s chin, tipping her face upward. For a fraction of a second, for not even the length of a heartbeat, his lips brushed hers. Then he was gone, striding down the hall toward the main entrance. He had said nothing about seeing her again, but Willi knew he would be back.

  Late that afternoon, a pale, wan India opened her door to Willi.

  “How are you feeling?” Willi stepped over the loudly purring Charlemagne and followed India into the living room.

  “I have never been so tired.” India dropped into a chair. At once, Charlemagne jumped onto her lap, rubbing against her. Absently, India scratched his ears. She wasn’t actually paying attention to the cat, and Willi had the feeling that India didn’t really see her, either. India appeared to be somewhere else.

  “Professor Moore said you called in sick this morning,” Willi remarked with deceptive casualness. “Okay, kid, here’s what we’ll do. We’ll tell everyone you have a bad case of the flu. That’ll give you at least a few days to stay home and pull yourself together, and people won’t bother you for fear of catching whatever you have and being sick over the holidays.”

  “I guess so.” India sounded so indecisive that Willi began to be seriously concerned about her condition.

  “India, can you tell me what happened to you yesterday? Do you know what happened?”

  “I can’t talk about it.” India sounded on the verge of tears.

  “In that case, I have just one more question for you, kid.” Willi tried to sound enthusiastic because she wanted a positive response. “Am I still invited for Christmas dinner?” To her dismay, India looked at her blankly as if she had forgotten what time of year it was.

  “Christmas dinner will probably be boiled potatoes or tomato soup,” India said at last. “That’s all the food I have in the house, and I don’t think I can bear to go to the grocery store. But if you don’t mind the menu, yes, please come. I don’t think I want to be alone on Christmas Day.”

  “Just leave the menu to me, kid.” Willi smiled at India, trying to hide her growing concern. “You supply the working stove, and I’ll take care of everything else.”

  When Mark called Willi late that evening, she bit back the exclamation of relief that came to her lips. Nor did she tell him she had been waiting by the telephone for hours.

  “I never asked India if she would talk to you,” Willi said. “She’s so sad, Mark, almost as if she’s in mourning. She was like this after Robert died, but I thought she was starting to come out of it.” When she told him about the Christmas dinner she was planning to cook for India, Mark broke in.

  “Could I crash your party?”

  “I’m not sure. India doesn’t know you.”

  “Yes, she does. I’m the man who carried her upstairs to bed last night after she almost fainted again,” he reminded her.

  “Well,” Willi said slowly, “if someone else is there, she might try to cheer up. She might even eat.” Willi did not add that she wanted Mark to be present for her own sake.

  “Good thinking.” The rich sound of his voice cut through her worry over India, warming her. “We’ll do it together, Willi. The university closes for the holiday at noon tomorrow, doesn’t it? I’ll pick you up at your office and we’ll go shopping.”

  Willi hung up the telephone and sat back on the couch, staring at the ceiling but not seeing it. What was it about Mark Brant that touched her so deeply? She sensed that he was in some way different from other men she had known, but she could not decide exactly what the difference was, just that underlying feeling of warm familiarity, of closeness, as if they had known each other long ago….

  They bought food and decorations and a small tree for India, and stored it all in Willi’s apartment. Mark also bought a table-sized tree for Willi, and a string of tiny white lights to decorate it. She brought out the few ornaments that had survived since her childhood and hung them on the tree, and Mark topped it with a new silver star. Watching his intent face and his fine, sensitive hands while he worked, Willi’s eyes misted over until everything in her apartment was seen in soft focus. With Mark there, somehow the single room took on a romantic appearance. She resisted a sudden desire to touch him.

  “Do you ever look at the stars?” he asked, taking his hands away from the one on the tree.

  “Not since I was little. I’m not even sure I could find the Big Dipper anymore.”

  “Then it’s time to start again. I propose a Christmas Eve picnic.”

  She did not object that it was a cold night. When he looked at her and smiled, she knew she would willingly go anywhere with him.

  He bought hamburgers and trench fries and soda at the local take-out store, then drove her to a hilltop well away from the lights of Cheswick. There he spread a blanket and they sat upon it, eating while he pointed out the stars to her and named the constellations and told her about his work.

  Willi expected him to try to make love to her, but he did not. When he pulled a second blanket over their sho
ulders, wrapping them together in a cozy cocoon, it wasn’t so he could fumble and grope at her, it was to keep her warm. She wasn’t sure whether to be glad or unhappy about the kind of treatment she was getting from Mark. No man, not even Hank, had ever talked to her the way Mark did, as if he assumed she could follow his reasoning and understand what he meant when he used scientific terms. The funny thing was that she did understand what he meant. Most of it, anyway.

  It was lovely sitting beside Mark and listening to him talk. It felt good to be treated like a respectable and important human being again, after Hank’s casual indifference. A little of Willi’s tough, defensive outer shell began to melt that night while she sat with Mark’s arm around her, looking at the stars and trying to remember all their names as he recited them. When he finally took her home, she was afraid he would break the spell by asking to spend the night, but he only brushed his lips across hers as he had done the day before and said he would see her on the morrow.

  Inside her apartment once more, Willi turned on the tree lights and gently touched the star Mark had placed on the topmost branch. She left the other lights off while she undressed. The little white bulbs were illumination enough. They shone like miniature stars, and even after she pulled the plug and crawled into bed in the darkness, the street lamp outside her window sent a ray of light to shine upon the silver star at the top of the tree.

  “Mark’s star,” she murmured. It was the last thing she saw before she closed her eyes.

  Chapter 25

  It was the oddest Christmas Day India could ever remember. The sensation of jarring discrepancy she had felt upon first returning to the twentieth century had gradually faded over the last two days. She knew exactly where and when she was living, but the empty place in her heart where Theu’s vital image had once dwelt was still an aching wound.