So Close to You (So Close to You - Trilogy)

by Rachel Carter

  “Yes,” I say softly. “I think I am.”

  Lucas’s mouth falls open. “What? What about … I thought …” He trails off, looking shocked.

  My voice is small. “I’m sorry, Lucas. Wes and I … it’s really complicated.”

  He sighs. “I told you I wanted to get to know you better. I thought you wanted that too.”

  “I know. I’m sorry. I should have told you last night.”

  He takes a step toward me. “I know I didn’t invent this.” He waves his hand back and forth in the air between our bodies.

  “I didn’t know how you felt until last night. I should have said something then, but I didn’t want to hurt you....”

  “You only met him a few days ago!” Lucas exclaims, apparently forgetting that I only met him a few days ago too.

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  He makes a noise in his throat. His blue eyes are burning as he asks, “What about me?”

  I bite my lip. If I had met Lucas in my own time, I might have fallen for him. And I can’t deny that a small part of me is attracted to his easy charm. He made life simpler when I desperately needed it to be. But there was always Mary—and Wes—between us. It could never work.

  I don’t want to upset Lucas, but I can’t give him hope that I might change my mind either. The whole situation reminds me of my relationship with Grant. I realize now that Hannah was right—I should have been honest with him from the beginning. I’m always saying that the truth is worth knowing, even if it hurts. Maybe it’s time for me to start practicing what I preach.

  I push my shoulders back and face Lucas. “I’m sorry.” My tone is firm. “I’m falling in love with Wes, and I … don’t feel the same about you.”

  His eyes shut.

  “Lucas.” I say his name like a plea. “Trust me when I tell you there’s a great girl out there for you. I know that for a fact.”

  “But she’s not you,” he says softly.

  I shake my head slowly. Then I make a choice, one I know Wes wouldn’t approve of. “You should think about … Mary.”

  He opens his eyes. “Mary?”

  I nod. “Mary.”

  He raises one hand to scratch the back of his neck. “Mary?” he asks again.

  I laugh a little, trying to break the tension. “You can’t tell me you haven’t thought about it.”

  “I mean, I guess … I just never really …” He looks up and I see that some of the disappointment has left his face, replaced by a thoughtful expression. “Mary?”

  We’re interrupted by the sound of an approaching car. Lucas and I both step back as Mrs. Bentley pulls into the driveway. As soon as the car rolls to a stop, Mary hops out of the passenger side. Mrs. Bentley gets out too and waves to us on her way into the house.

  “Lucas!” Mary sounds breathless. “What are you doing here?”

  Lucas looks at her, and I see his gaze start with her feet and work his way up. She is pretty and flushed in a bright yellow sundress, her auburn curls tumbling around her shoulders. “I was …” He can’t seem to take his eyes from her. “I was just …”

  “Church was so boring,” Mary chatters. “Mrs. Potter was wearing this huge hat and you couldn’t see anything over it. And the sermon was an hour, I swear it.”

  Lucas opens his mouth and closes it again. “I was just leaving,” he says abruptly.

  “Oh.” Mary’s smile fades. “When will we see you again?”

  He glances at me, then turns back to Mary and smiles so wide you can see his crooked bottom teeth. “Soon. Real soon.”

  She beams at him and I step back. I try to contain my own smile and fail miserably. The more I meddle in the past, the more I’m tempting the butterfly effect, and I know I need to be careful. But I may have been the reason Lucas wasn’t focused on Mary in the first place, and that seems like an even larger interference. Fixing it was obviously the right thing to do. Lucas and Mary are meant to be.

  Lucas walks to his truck. “See ya, Mary.” He turns to face me and his expression drops a bit. “Good-bye, Lydia.”

  He doesn’t wait for a response, just gets in and starts the engine. A loud rumbling sound fills the yard. “Good-bye, Lucas,” I say, even though I know he can’t hear me anymore.

  CHAPTER 18

  Not long after Lucas leaves, Elizabeth appears with Peter and the whole family has lunch. Everyone is quiet after Dean’s sudden departure, and we all pick at our food, not saying much. When the meal is over, Peter plays with his soldiers in the backyard. Mrs. Bentley asks me and Mary to weed her victory garden while she has tea in the parlor with Elizabeth.

  We wear old baggy jeans with rolled-up hems. “Dungarees,” Mary calls them as she ties a scarf around her head. It takes forever to pull all the dandelions and grass peeking out among the early summer vegetables. Mary complains about the heat and her aching muscles until I find a long, wiggly earthworm in the dirt and dangle it in her face. She squeals and shrieks and I smile, happy to distract her—and myself—from thoughts of Dean.

  “Don’t look now, Lydia,” she says, pointing at something over my shoulder, “but I think you’ve got a visitor.”

  I look up from the dirt to see Wes standing near the edge of the backyard. At the sight of him, my heart starts to beat faster, even as the anger and disappointment from last night washes over me.

  I walk over to him, stopping a few feet away. Caked dirt falls from my fingers and sprinkles onto the grass beneath our feet. “What do you want, Wes?”

  He stares at me, his eyes darker than usual. He’s acting as though nothing is different, as though he didn’t try to manipulate me just a few hours ago. “I need to show you something.”

  “What is it?” I ask.

  He looks behind me, where Mary is avidly eavesdropping. She doesn’t even pretend to look away.

  His voice drops, low and deep. “I need to show you something,” he repeats, and he sounds so forceful, so intense, that for a minute I forget to be mad at him.

  “Come with me.” He turns and walks away. I follow him around the side of the house and into a small section of forest, far away from the eyes and ears of the Bentleys.

  “Wes, what’s going on?”

  He turns to face me and reaches into the pocket of his olive army jacket. He pulls out a folder and holds it between us, his face grim.

  I take it from him. My dirty fingers leave brown smudge marks on the surface. On the back of the folder is a red CONFIDENTIAL seal. On the front are the words THE RECRUITMENT INITIATIVE stamped in black. I turn it over in my hands and look up at Wes. “This is the same type of file I took from Dr. Faust’s office.”

  Wes nods, then gestures for me to open it.

  Inside are only two documents. One is a picture of Dean. He looks stern, an army cap pulled low over his head. The other is a document with “The Recruitment Initiative” typed across the top.

  I skim the words as Wes watches silently. The recruitment program has been established to locate and train soldiers and selected civilians to participate in missions related to the Montauk Project, specifically Tesla’s Machine. All recruits are taken on a volunteer basis with the understanding that these missions may result in failure.

  And then, at the bottom of the page: The program was initiated by Sergeant Dean Bentley on special assignment. Volunteers are approved and selected at this time by Dr. Josef Faust and Lieutenant Dean Bentley.

  I grip the folder with both hands. “Dean … recruits?”

  Wes doesn’t say anything, letting me put the pieces together myself.

  “Dean isn’t going on the mission,” I realize. “Dean is finding the soldiers for the mission. That’s why his name was on the Project Hero mission statement. He was the one who found the subject for it.”

  “There’s something else you should know.” Wes steps closer to me. “The Recruitment Initiative has two branches. One branch is called Retrieval and the other is Training. Retrieval is the process of bringing recruits in. All recruits, L
ydia, not just the volunteer soldiers.”

  “Kidnapping,” I whisper.

  Wes’s jaw is clenched tight. “Training has four different modes: survival, tutoring, combat, and brainwashing.”

  “The torture.”

  “Yes.” His voice is blank as he speaks, as if he’s removed himself from the experience. As if it happened to someone else entirely. “Brainwashing is the first mode of training.” He leans down. “Do you understand what this means? The Recruitment Initiative is the program that snatched me off the street. They kidnap children. And Dean is responsible for it.”

  I frantically shake my head, trying to block out his words. “But I saw the men whose photographs were in the folders in Dr. Faust’s office. They weren’t children; they were grown men. Dean might be recruiting volunteer soldiers, but he wouldn’t hurt innocent kids.”

  “Lydia. You saw the room of children. It’s only a matter of time before Faust starts approving use of them—if he hasn’t already. The Montauk Project becomes more and more ruthless as time goes on. If Dean’s working for them, then he’s ruthless too.”

  “Oh my god.” Wes puts out a hand, trying to warn me about something, but I don’t notice. “I never thought Dean Bentley would turn out to be the bad guy,” I say roughly.

  There’s a small sound behind me, a tiny squeaking noise. I turn to see Peter pop up from behind a rock, one of his toy soldiers clutched in his hand. He stares at me in horror.

  “Peter—” I reach for him, the folder in my hands falling to the ground. Peter whirls around and runs back into the woods.

  “Did he hear me say that his father is a bad guy?” I whisper. Wes nods and I press both palms against my forehead.

  I feel Wes’s touch on the back of my neck. It’s only a slight sweep of his fingers, but it’s enough to make me feel calmer. I lift my head, unable to erase the image of my grandfather’s face. He worships his father, he always has. What must he be thinking of me right now?

  “Do you want to go after him?” Wes’s voice is soft.

  “No.” I bend down and pick up the folder. “I’ll find him later and apologize. You and I need to sort this out.”

  I think of all I know about Dean, what my grandfather has told me about his father. He was supposed to be a good man. I thought he was a good man. But now I’m not so sure.

  Wes watches me struggle with my thoughts and says, “People get caught up in stuff like this for a lot of different reasons. He probably thinks he’s doing the right thing.”

  I scoff. “Nobody could think kidnapping and torturing children is the right thing.”

  His mouth twists a little. “I’ve met a lot of scientists at the Facility as I travel across time, and all of them think what they do is for the greater good. And sometimes it is.”

  At my horrified look, his voice gets firmer. “Sometimes the past does need to be changed, Lydia. If you could stop a huge disaster from happening, and save thousands of people, wouldn’t you do it?”

  I nod reluctantly.

  “Do you know how many events like that I’ve stopped over the years, just by changing one tiny moment in the time line?”

  “But, Wes, you can’t be advocating for what they do. They use children. They torture them.”

  He turns away so that I’m staring at the hard angles of his profile. “I’m not saying I agree with their methods. But sometimes the world isn’t always so black and white. People can do bad to do good.”

  “No.” I shake my head. “I don’t believe that.” I picture Dean at the picnic, his hand cupped around Peter’s head. “And I don’t believe that Dean could be kidnapping children off the street and then brainwashing them. Maybe he doesn’t know everything.”

  Wes looks back at me. “Lydia …”

  “He doesn’t, Wes. He might be sending soldiers on these missions, but he doesn’t know about the room of children. I know it in my gut.”

  “How can you be sure?”

  “I just am.” I look at the sky, where the tree branches weave together in the wind. The sound of the leaves rustling is oddly soothing. “I don’t know how to explain it. Dean is family. And if he could raise someone as kind and as loving as my grandfather, then he can’t be a part of something like this.”

  Wes gives me an assessing look. There’s a war going on behind his eyes, and I can tell he’s wrestling with some kind of big decision.

  Finally I watch as a strange peace settles over his features. “So what do we do next?” he asks, and his voice sounds lighter than it ever has.

  I tilt my head at him. “We?”

  “We.” He smiles slightly.

  “You want to help me?”

  He nods.

  I step closer to him and lift the tan folder. “How did you get this?” I ask slowly.

  His eyes drop down at the movement. “I broke into Dean’s office in the Facility.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I knew you needed more information,” he says quietly.

  “You did this for me?” I can’t keep the surprise out of my voice. “I thought, after last night …”

  “Lydia.” He steps closer. “Last night was a mistake.”

  “You didn’t mean to kiss me,” I say flatly.

  “That’s not it.” He looks at the ground. “I didn’t kiss you because I was trying to get you to do something. I kissed you because … I wanted to.”

  My breath catches.

  “I’m not good at this,” he says, his voice hoarse. “I don’t know how to deal with … feelings.”

  I step closer. We’re almost touching.

  “I don’t think that’s true, Wes.” I’m finally starting to understand the magnitude of his actions. “You went into the Facility for me. You took out this file.”

  I lift the folder again. “What about the butterfly effect? What about all your beliefs?”

  “I don’t believe in what you’re doing, Lydia.” His voice has lost that uncertain quality. “I’ve seen what can happen when people mess with the past. But I thought about everything you said last night. You keep fighting so hard for the people you love. You’ll do anything, even if it means risking your own future. I’ve never seen anyone act like that before. That’s why I want to help you.”

  His words flow through me, warm and comforting. I let go of my anger, of my fear, of all the unanswered questions I have about Wes. He is going against all his beliefs to help me.

  I still don’t know why he helped me the first time I stumbled into him. I don’t know why he followed me into the past. But, surprisingly, I don’t care anymore. I usually insist on knowing the truth about everything. It’s what led me here in the first place. But for Wes, I’m willing to put that instinct aside to be with him.

  He catches my eye and I start to lean in to him. We’re only inches apart when the folder I’m holding scrapes against his arm. I pull back, flustered.

  “Dean. We need to concentrate on Dean.” I clear my throat. Wes smiles slightly.

  “He’s in the Facility right now,” I say. “He wasn’t supposed to disappear until tomorrow, but something changed. I think I might have already altered the time line.”

  Wes’s eyes narrow, and his rubs his jaw again. “That’s not good, Lydia.”

  I frown. “I don’t know how much time Dean has left. I need to find him tonight, before it’s too late.”

  “What are you going to do once you find him?”

  I sigh. “Warn him about his disappearance. Hope he believes me.”

  “He might not,” Wes says. He looks skeptical.

  “I don’t know what else to do.”

  “Do you have any proof?”

  I shake my head, feeling defeated. “And now I also need to warn him about the Recruitment Initiative. He needs to know what’s happening—or what’s going to happen—with those children.”

  “If Dean doesn’t already know about the kids—”

  “He doesn’t,” I cut in.

  Wes gives me a look. “If
he doesn’t already know, he still might not want to hear about how his project is corrupt. He might not believe you about any of it.”

  “Wait.” I reach out and grab Wes’s arm. “If I can show him the room of kidnapped children, then he has to believe me. He won’t be able to deny it after he sees it with his own eyes.”

  “Lydia.” Wes looks alarmed. “You can’t forget all about the butterfly effect. Showing him that room could produce a huge change in the time line. If the Recruitment Initiative is gone, then my role in the Montauk Project disappears completely.”

  “But if the recruits are dismantled, then won’t you have a better life?”

  He grits his teeth and the movement makes his cheekbones look even sharper. “That’s a big if, Lydia. My life may not be perfect, but I don’t want to chance an unknown future.”

  I meet his eyes. “You said that if anything in the time line changed, then it wouldn’t affect us because we’re outside of it. That means you’d still exist, even if the Recruitment Initiative was destroyed. You’d be free, Wes.”

  He looks at me and there’s something hopeful and raw in his expression. “If I can give you that life, then I will,” I say. “I have to do this, for you and for my grandfather. It’s a risk, of course, but isn’t it a risk worth taking? Especially if you could leave the Montauk Project behind forever?”

  He frowns, but I can see that he’s thinking about my words.

  “Fine. We’ll sneak into the Facility tonight at midnight. You can warn Dean, and then …, Lydia, once you save Dean, there won’t be any reason for you to stay in the past.” His voice goes soft, hesitant. “Will you let me bring you back to your own time, after this is over?”

  My gaze swings involuntarily toward the Bentleys’ house. He’s right: I said I would leave this time period once the business with Dean was over, and it will be tonight. But am I ready to leave yet?

  I think of my family on both sides of time. This has been an adventure, but I can’t stay here forever, and I know that Wes won’t rest until I’m back in 2012. Leaving won’t be easy, but this isn’t my life. It’s time to go back home.