Not a Moment Too Soon

by Linda O. Johnston

  Then there was the other thing he intended to do. Or, rather, he intended Shauna to do.

  “Are you okay?” Shauna asked.

  “No. Are you? You should be pretty pleased with yourself. Everything’s following your story so far, isn’t it?”

  “Yes,” she said quietly. “Andee disappeared, and the kidnapper called her mother. Her father did the right thing and told the authorities, and enlisted their cooperation while he starts the search for his missing daughter.”

  “I’ll change things—the outcome, at least,” Hunter insisted. “Everything that’s come true did so without my input, or I did it because it made sense.”

  “Don’t blame yourself for mostly following the story,” Shauna said. “Though I can’t tell you why, I don’t think you have much choice. And I can say from experience that even if you do things differently, it doesn’t change anything.”

  “So you said.” He knew he sounded irritable, but, hell, he believed in free will. No damned story was going to be so engraved in stone that real life would follow it.

  His daughter would be fine.

  “I’m still changing your story, Shauna,” he finished. Fortunately, they were stopped at a red light near the freeway entrance. He looked at her.

  The time was close to midnight, but they were under a streetlight. Shauna’s brown eyes were wide and puzzled and even a little irritated. “Hunter, I’ve already explained—”

  “Yeah, I know you think that changing something won’t make a damned bit of difference. And even if I alter events and you enter the changes onto the computer, it won’t save them. But I won’t give up before I’ve even tried. Got it? And you’ve got to work with me, like it or not. That’s why you came, isn’t it—to help me?”

  She was silent, biting her bottom lip as she obviously thought how to respond.

  He once had nibbled on that same full, sexy lip. The top one, too.

  And other places on her silky, sexy body—

  But that was before. He’d keep his hands off her now, even if it killed him.

  Because if he didn’t, if he upset Shauna enough to make her leave, it might imperil his daughter’s life even more.

  Of course, that gave credence to the credibility of her damned story. But like it or not, he’d already given it credence. Ignoring it wasn’t an option.

  He’d learned his lesson the hard way before.

  “Okay, Hunter,” she said quietly. “I’ll stay, at least for a while. If I can do anything at all to help Andee, you know I will. And if the best I can do is to help you accept—”

  “I’ll never accept that,” he retorted, his voice raised. “Don’t play shrink with me.” He noticed that the light had turned green. Fortunately, there was no one behind them.

  “All right,” Shauna said sadly. Her hand touched his cheek. His eyes closed as his senses drank in the contact—the softness of her skin, her unique scent, which was neither too sweet nor too spicy. His entire body responded with awareness of Shauna and her touch, her closeness to him after so many long years. Good thing they were still stopped.

  His eyes popped open, and he turned to look at her. She withdrew her hand, but it still hovered between them. He’d have shoved it away if all he’d seen was sympathy on her face. It wasn’t. Yet…was it desire darkening the brown of her eyes?

  Did she feel it, too?

  Lord, how he wanted to take her into his arms, the way he once did. Make love with her, to forget all that was happening, if only for a few, wonderful minutes.

  She looked away first. “You missed the light.”

  He glanced in that direction. “Yeah.”

  “I don’t have reservations, but are there any hotels around here?” She swiveled in her seat. They’d driven a ways from Margo’s into a rougher area of town. There was no way he would leave Shauna here.

  “You’re staying with me,” he said.

  “I can’t, Hunter.” Her voice was low, husky, but this time, as the light changed, he didn’t look at her.

  “Yeah, you can. I’ll keep my hands off you, don’t worry.”

  He had to.

  “Like I said, I’m changing your story, Shauna. And for that you need to hang around. You’ll come with me when I ask questions. Help me brainstorm what else to do. You can gather new and different stuff to type in while you’re along for the ride. In the story, I investigate alone. Now, I’ll have an assistant along. If enough is thrown into your story that’s different, maybe the ending will change. And having you with me, when in the story I go it alone, will be a good start. Deal?”

  They were on the freeway, and the best he could do in the silence was to glance momentarily at her. She was staring straight ahead. Her upper teeth were again worrying her lower lip in that same, sexy manner.

  He wouldn’t let it affect him.

  “Well?” he prompted.

  “Okay, Hunter,” she finally said. “Deal.”

  Chapter 5

  Though Hunter’s house was in Brentwood, an area on the west side of Los Angeles that Shauna knew was upscale, it seemed even more low-key for its area than Margo’s.

  She could see in the lights along the wide street that his place was the smallest on the block, not the largest—white stucco and boxy looking, a modest, well-tended yard around it. Hunter drove his GTO down the driveway to the back of the house. The door inside the attached garage opened right into the kitchen, which was compact, outdated and cluttered.

  A cookie jar shaped like a smiling pig sat on the counter beside the side-by-side refrigerator. On top of the butcher-block table was a box of sweetened kiddy cereal and under it was a bright plastic child’s step stool.

  All signs that a child lived here, and was loved. The little everyday items left in homey disarray nearly broke Shauna’s heart.

  Hunter had insisted on bringing in both her small suitcase and his, though she toted her own laptop. “I’ll show you to the guest room.” He led her through the kitchen and down a narrow hall decorated with framed pictures of Andee alone, Andee and Elayne, and Andee with Hunter. But none with Andee and her mother. Not a surprise, since Hunter and Margo had been divorced two years or more, but recognizing that fact helped Shauna relax a little. Not that it should matter.

  Hunter turned on the light in the guest room and put down her suitcase. Beyond were a couple more doors—his room and Andee’s, Shauna assumed.

  The uncluttered guest room was small, with a twin bed in the center. The quilt appeared old and well used. There was a sliding closet door on one side and a bare table on the other, with a chair pushed up under it.

  Shauna walked inside. A slightly musty smell hung in the air, as if the room was seldom used. But when she opened the closet to hang up the few clothes she had brought, she saw hanging there a white terry-cloth robe in Elayne’s size and favorite style. This must be the room where she stayed when she visited her son and granddaughter in L.A.

  “I know it’s late,” Hunter said from the doorway. “You’re probably beat, and I intend to get going early tomorrow, but I’d still like you to do one thing before you get ready for bed.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Boot up your computer and see if we changed things enough today to let you save any modifications to the story.”

  Feeling stricken, Shauna stared at him. Other than a pulse working at the side of his broad jaw, he showed no emotion. Even the expression in his eyes, which often revealed his feelings to her, looked impassive.

  Inside him, however, she sensed a whole lot more going on.

  “I know that’s why you wanted me to come, Hunter, but—”

  He waved one arm to erase what she might be planning to say. He had rolled up the sleeves of his casual blue shirt, revealing sinewy forearms sprinkled with hair as dark as that on his head.

  She didn’t know why a glimpse of something as innocuous as partially bared arms should send a rush of heat through her, but it did. She ignored it. Sort of.

  “Humor me,”
he said. “It’s not like I’ve forgotten you’ve said your stories don’t change. Whatever other signs of aging might have overtaken me in the last seven years, memory loss isn’t one of them. At least not enough to worry me—yet.” Amazingly, he smiled. Not one of the huge, hearty, life-embracing smiles he’d once bestowed on Shauna, but definitely an improvement over the scowls and other dark expressions she had almost grown used to since he’d appeared at his mother’s earlier that day. Had it really only been a few hours ago?

  “All right, Hunter.” In a minute, she’d removed her computer from her carry-on and set it up on the table. Unsure how much battery power remained, she plugged it into an electric outlet along the wall and booted it up.

  She opened the file containing the story, and held her breath as she scrolled to where she assumed the timing of the story intersected where they were right now—the end of the same day as the kidnapping:

  Why was the bad man T acting so mean? He’d always been nice to Andee before. And now he was even making her stay in a room by herself.

  As soon as the bad man shut the door, Andee got down off the bed. He had told her to go to sleep, but how could she? She was so scared. “Daddy,” she whimpered into the darkness. A tiny bit of light shone from under the door. Andee turned the knob.

  It was locked.

  The window in the room was too high for Andee to reach. From underneath, she pulled the drapes to the side and looked up.

  It was dark outside, too. No moon, or even stars, in the little bit of sky she could see.

  Sadly she let go of the drapes, crawled back up into bed.

  “Please fly home from your trip now, Daddy,” she whispered, “and come get me.” And then she began to cry.

  Shauna felt Hunter’s hands grip her upper arms as he read over her shoulder. He must be reading the same part, too.

  Andee wasn’t the only one crying. But through her tears, Shauna continued reading, determined to finish this part. Again.

  And outside the room, Big T turned on the television and put on the news, just to be sure his orders had not been disobeyed. He smiled as he heard the usual things about terrorist attacks, politicians and the weather report. Fair and sunny.

  Nothing about a missing child.

  So Big T went to bed, too.

  Shauna turned and looked up at Hunter when she had finished reading this segment. He didn’t release her arms. To encourage her, or to help his own emotional condition? She didn’t know.

  She only knew how conscious she was of his touch.

  “I’ll try to change it now,” she told him, her voice cracking. She gently eased her arms away from him. She needed unfettered access to the keyboard, after all.

  Though there was no type of modification she hadn’t attempted when she’d prayed to save her father’s life, she figured that if she could change anything, it would be something small. She decided to type in a change that reflected today’s reality. It wouldn’t hurt, even if it wouldn’t help.

  She put her cursor on the paragraph that described Andee’s getting back into bed. She changed what the child said. Instead of, Please fly home from your trip now, Daddy, and come get me, she entered, I know you’re home from your trip now, Daddy. Please come get me.

  “Okay?” she asked Hunter.

  “Sure. Why not?” His tone was even huskier than hers, and though his words were nonchalant, she was well aware that his attitude wasn’t.

  Shauna put the cursor on the Save icon, watched for an instant while the little hourglass on the screen tipped and emptied, then closed the document.

  She inhaled and exhaled a couple of long, uneasy breaths. “Ready?” she asked.

  “Do it,” he said, his voice tight.

  The file opened on the beginning of the story again. Shauna scrolled through it until she got to where she’d made the change.

  And gasped.

  The words attributed to Andee on the page said, I know you’re home from your trip now, Daddy. Please come get me.

  “It worked!” Hunter shouted from above her.

  The tears that Shauna had shed only a minute earlier seemed like a drizzle compared with the downfall that now wet her cheeks. She couldn’t believe it.

  It had never happened before.

  She must have said those words aloud, for Hunter said, “But it happened now. It happened now!”

  Her hands shaking, Shauna reached into her bag and extracted a blank disk. She shoved it into the computer and again went through the routine to get it to save, this time onto the A drive.

  Once again, when the computer was through, she closed the file. And once again, when she opened it, the change was there.

  Shauna scrolled slowly through the document. She hadn’t tried to change anything else, so it wasn’t a surprise that the rest of the story read the same as before.

  But this time, something she had changed had actually remained there. How had it happened? Look at that, Grandma! Shauna thought jubilantly.

  “Let me try,” Hunter said. His intense expression looked elated—the kind of expression that had once given Shauna chills of desire when it had resulted from something she had done or said. Something they had participated in together. Dinner at one of their favorite dives. A walk through a desert museum. A slow, sensuous dance in the dark at a club they both loved.

  Now Hunter all but pushed her out of the way, sat on the chair she vacated and went to the end of the document.

  As he had tried earlier that day, at Shauna’s house, he deleted the entire ending and replaced it with something shorter. Happier. Andee was saved, Big T was captured, and all was well.

  That change didn’t save.

  “Damn.” The single word was bitter. “You do it,” he told Shauna. “Just the way you made it work before.”

  As she slid into the chair again, her eyes were on him. He held one hand to his head as if in pain and disbelief. “It doesn’t matter,” he muttered. “Stories that come true, my ass. Why the hell do I even worry about this one?”

  “Because you’ve seen my stories come true enough that you can’t discount them,” Shauna said quietly. “Otherwise, you’d have ignored my call, not come to Oasis, not brought me along.”

  Anguish doused the light in his green eyes. “Then fix it, Shauna. You’ve changed some of it. Change the rest.”

  “I’ll try,” she said softly. She had no idea why she was able to save that small change. And she wasn’t surprised when her new modification to the end didn’t save. “I’m sorry, Hunter.”

  “Good night, Shauna.” He headed for the door. His broad shoulders, usually thrust back as if in unconscious pride, were bent like a much older man’s. His stride was slow, pained. Tortured.

  Without thinking, Shauna raced to his side. “Wait.”

  “I’ve got work to do.” He didn’t look at her.

  She had spent years conducting therapy sessions with people in crisis, to help in situations like this. She couldn’t let him leave without trying to help him deal with his pain.

  She took his arm. “It’ll help if you talk about how you’re feeling.”

  “No thanks.” He shook off her grip.

  “Please let me—”

  “You’ve done enough for one night,” he snarled. Then, he said, more sadly, “You gave me hope, then took it away.”

  She shriveled at his words and beneath his tormented gaze before he tore it away. “That’s not fair. You’ve been acting as if you blame me for what’s happened. I know you’re hurting, but let me help you. Don’t push me away.”

  “Sorry.” He shrugged. “You’re right. I’m not blaming anyone but the piece of crud who stole my daughter. But what you wrote—”

  “My stories don’t cause what happens,” Shauna interrupted defensively.

  “Maybe,” he replied. “I don’t know if what you did years ago was on purpose. It doesn’t matter. I don’t think what you did tonight was intentional. And you’re right—after what I saw in the past, I can’t disc
ount the possibility that you write stories that come true. That’s why it’s almost worse now. You changed a few words after claiming all those times that you couldn’t even modify something minor. But the ending stayed the same.” He closed his eyes, and when he opened them again he continued toward the door.

  “I wish I could change everything, Hunter,” Shauna said, her pain magnified by his. She couldn’t help him. She couldn’t help herself. Yet once more she laid her hand on the bared, warm skin of his arm. “We’ll try again, I promise.” She hesitated. “Even though I can’t promise that—”

  She stopped speaking as his eyes, trained on hers, suddenly turned from dull green to flashing jade. He bent down, took her into his arms and kissed her. Hard.

  She knew it was simply to shut her up. Prevent her from finishing what she’d been saying.

  But her knees nearly collapsed beneath her as he held her.

  She remembered the feel of his lips on hers, had longed for it. And now that she experienced it once again, she knew nothing in all those heated, fiery recollections had been exaggerated by time, or her imagination.

  She kissed him back with a longing born of seven years of missing him.

  With passion that she knew should instead, for now, be compassion. But she was no more able to stop herself from tasting him, reaching up along his back, moving her hands down to grip his tight buttocks, than she could prevent her lungs from drawing in air.

  But he pulled back. Even as she knew he would. Even as she knew she should. This wasn’t years ago, when they were lovers. This was today, and they were drawn together by circumstances too horrible to contemplate.

  Too dreadful to be sublimated in a few moments of heat that they would both only regret later.

  Hunter stared down at her for a long second, the dull bleakness returning to his eyes.

  “Good night, Shauna,” he said again.

  And this time he was gone.

  He had to be out of his ever-lovin’ mind.

  Hunter was certain of it the next morning as he sat across from Shauna in the fast-food restaurant where he’d taken her for breakfast. Though he intended to make this a quick meal, get on the road as soon as possible, it was only six-thirty, still too early to knock on doors without nervous people calling the cops on him. His legs itching to move, he pretended to read the sports section of the Los Angeles Times so he wouldn’t have to talk.