by Amanda Gray
It felt right. Like the only place in the world she truly belonged.
She inhaled the bitter, musky scent of pine trees in the smooth cotton of his T-shirt. His body was lithe but strong against hers, his arms a barricade against the world and all its painful truths. They stood like that for a long minute, not speaking.
When he finally pulled away, he took her hand and led her silently into the house, through the foyer and into the front parlor. Her painting still hung on the wall over the fireplace. A gentle fire crackled below it, though the floor-to-ceiling windows stood open, sheer, pristine draperies billowing in the faint breeze rising from outside.
“Let’s sit.” He pulled her to a sofa near the fireplace.
He didn’t let go of her hand as she sat down.
She ran her free hand over the soft, taupe suede. “When did you get a couch?”
“Today, actually. I picked out a few things to make the house more comfortable while I’m here.”
She scanned the room, noticing a small table with a lamp at one end of the sofa and a blanket-covered mattress on the floor in the corner.
“Nice,” she said. “But you know there are real bedrooms upstairs, right?”
He smiled, but Jenny caught a flash of sadness in it. “This will do.” They sat in silence for a minute before he spoke again. “I wondered if you would come back.”
“I told you I would,” she said softly.
His eyes didn’t leave hers. “I was afraid you would change your mind.”
“I don’t think I could change my mind now if I wanted to.” She realized how true it was. “For the first time, I feel like things make sense. Like I make sense.”
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t know how to explain it,” she started. “I feel like everything before was a dream. Like I was missing a part of myself and didn’t even know it.”
He lifted her hand to his mouth, kissing her palm. It was such a simple gesture, but a rush of desire, somehow both new and entirely familiar, moved through her.
“It’s like that sometimes for people who have had traumatic experiences in their past life. It’s hard to move on, to belong, in one place when you have unresolved business in another.”
It hadn’t occurred to her that there was a reason for her discomfort with almost everyone she knew, with school and her dad and her life. Now she couldn’t help wondering about all the people she knew who didn’t quite fit. The ones who were depressed or angry or bitter for no apparent reason. Did they have unresolved past-life issues, too?
“So what’s the answer?” she asked, trying to keep her mind off his nearness, the energy from his body seeming to stretch toward her like a lightning bolt. “Will being with you now—knowing the truth—put it all to rest? All the sadness and loss of Maria and Nikolai?”
A shadow passed over his green eyes. “It’s not that simple.”
“What do you mean?”
He removed his hand from hers and rubbed his palms nervously on his jeans. “I’m not supposed to be here. It breaks all the rules.”
“There are rules?”
“Yes, and consequences for breaking them.”
“What consequences?”
“Let’s just say there are those who will try to restore things to their proper order.”
“Who?” she asked. “I mean, you said your mother sent you forward, right? So who else even knows you’re here? Wait a minute … ” The retreat center, the stained glass panels, Nikolai’s traveling through time to be with her. “Are you talking about the people at the retreat center? The monks who live up on the mountain?”
He stood, walking to the fireplace. “Those aren’t monks, Jenny. Not the way you mean.”
“Then who are they?”
“The Order.”
“The Order?” she repeated. “The order of what?”
Nikolai picked up a poker from the tools to the left of the fireplace. He prodded the burning wood as he continued. “Time travel is as old as the planet. People were doing it, falling into portals by accident when the conditions were right, long before anyone knew what they were doing. The Order has been there all along, time wardens tasked with keeping everyone in their proper time and place.” He turned to face her. “And I’m out of time.”
“‘Helping those out of time’ … ” she murmured.
His laugh was bitter. “I suppose that depends on your idea of help.”
Jenny stood, crossing the room to stand in front of him. “Are you saying they’ll send you back?”
“They can’t force me back, but they will try to … coerce me. And if I don’t go, they’ll send me to the bardo instead.”
“The bardo?”
“It’s an … in-between place. A place where the soul is suspended. I can either voluntarily go back to my own time or the Order will send me to the bardo, unable to be reborn.” He reached out to touch her cheek, like that would keep him connected to her. “Unable to find you in this life or another.”
They’d only just found each other again. It was all new. She was still figuring it out, still figuring out the place she and Nikolai might have in each other’s lives. But she knew they were meant to be together. That Nikolai had cheated death to find her again.
“I don’t have much time,” he said reluctantly.
“But … you just got here.”
“And that’s probably why they haven’t figured out exactly where I am, though they undoubtedly know I’m somewhere in the vicinity.”
“How would they know?” She thought about Tiffany, wondering if she’d been right to tell her everything. Maybe Nikolai’s presence wasn’t her secret to tell.
“People out of time give off a different energy,” Nikolai explained. “It’s like an out-of-place sound, a distant siren on the wind, and time wardens are trained to listen for it.”
“What do we do?” she asked.
Nikolai considered before answering. “Well, I can stay and hope to avoid detection for a while longer, but that gets more and more dangerous over the next couple of days.”
“Why?”
“The portals are only active at midnight during a full moon. If the Order finds me, they’ll want me to go back—or to send me to the bardo—during the next one.”
Jenny’s eyes were pulled to the window. “But it’s almost full now.”
He nodded. “In two more days.”
“So that’s it? You find me only to have to go back again?”
“There might be another way,” he said slowly. “A way for me to stay.”
“What way?”
“In the Book of Time there are—”
“Wait a minute. What did you just say?”
“I said in the Book of Time—”
“What’s the Book of Time?”
“It’s a map of all the ley lines—all the portals—on the planet. But my mother said it’s also rumored to contain something else.”
“What else?” She asked the question, trying to tune out the drumbeat in her head.
Book of Time, Book of Time, Book … of Time.
“An exception. The components necessary for a traveler to remain out of time without banishment to the bardo.”
“I think my mother might have had it,” she said quietly.
“Had what?”
“The Book of Time.”
“Why would your mother have the Book of Time?”
She explained it—the photograph of her mom and Morgan with the all-too-familiar bell tower in the background, the book in her mother’s hands, the stained glass panels at the retreat center. She even told him about Ben and the music box, about the Order’s interest in it.
“You don’t think your mom was one of them?” Nikolai asked when she was done.
“I honestly don’t know. If you’d asked me that a week ago I would have laughed, but everything’s changed. I’m not sure of anything anymore.”
“Can you ask Morgan?”
Jenny thought about it, imag
ined herself going to Morgan and demanding to be told the truth. But what if she were wrong? What if Morgan had a reasonable explanation for Jenny’s suspicions? Jenny would have accused her for nothing. She didn’t want that kind of distrust between them. Not until she was sure.
“I could ask her,” Jenny admitted. “But there’s something I’d like to do first.”
“What is it?”
“Everything starts with that photograph. If I’m right and the bell tower in the background is from the retreat center and not Marist, Morgan’s lies start there. Maybe I could call and see if she and my mom really went there, if they’re listed as alumni.”
Nikolai shook his head. “They’re not going to give that kind of information to just anybody. Is there some other way you could find out?”
Jenny thought about school. About records and transcripts … and yearbooks.
“What about an old yearbook? Do you think the university library would have them?”
“I don’t know,” Nikolai said. “But it can’t be that difficult to find out.”
* * *
They talked awhile longer, finally agreeing on a plan. It was almost midnight when Nikolai walked her out.
“So … I guess you’re too old-fashioned to have a cell phone?” she said.
He chuckled softly, pulling one from the pocket of his jeans. “I’ve been here quite awhile now. The culture of this time is as much a part of my life as it is yours.”
They exchanged phone numbers, and Jenny pushed her phone back into the pocket of her shorts. Nikolai leaned against her car, and she stepped into his arms like she’d done it a thousand times before.
“Call or text me or whatever,” she said, looking up at him. “You know, if you want to.”
He pulled her closer. “I want to.”
They stood there, silent and still, for a long time. A knot of irrational fear formed in Jenny’s stomach at the thought of saying goodbye. She told herself she was being stupid. They’d only just met. She’d been without him before, for years and years.
But suddenly, being without him was an impossibility, even though she knew it would sound crazy if she said it out loud. Fought against it sounding crazy even in her own mind.
“I don’t want to say goodbye,” she finally admitted, her words muffled against his chest.
“I know.” He leaned back, looking into her eyes. “But I’m not going anywhere, Jenny. I’ll fight to stay with you.”
His voice was ferocious, and in that moment, she pitied anyone who tried to separate them.
TWENTY-TWO
She was brushing her teeth when she heard her dad come in. She wiped her mouth on a towel and went downstairs, wanting to reassure him that she was home and everything was okay.
“Hey,” she said. “How was the meeting?”
He turned to face her, his eyes lighting up. “It was okay. How was work?”
She shrugged. “Work. You know.”
He nodded wearily. “I do.”
“Speaking of work,” Jenny said. “How’s the Daulton house coming along?”
“Started demo today, actually. Should be done tomorrow and then we can get to it. Thanks for telling Clare about that job at Books, by the way. She seems to really like it.”
Jenny nodded. “So … ” She chose her words carefully. “Are you and Clare, like, friends or what?”
He folded his arms across his chest, a smile playing at his lips. “Are you and Ben, like, friends? Or what?”
He was mocking her, but in a sweet way.
She thought about his question before answering. Ben was … interesting. And attractive. But he wasn’t Nikolai.
“Yeah. I think we’re friends,” she finally said. “No ‘or what,’ though.”
Her dad grinned. “Same for me.”
Jenny’s relief was followed by disappointment in herself. She had to get past not wanting her dad to have a social life, to meet someone. Didn’t he deserve it? Her mom had been gone long enough.
“Great,” she said. “Now that we know we both have friends, I think I’ll head up to bed.”
“Smart-ass.” Her dad laughed. “Good night, honey.”
She was halfway up the stairs when she remembered her plans for the next day. She turned around. “Dad?”
“Yeah?”
“Are you at the Daulton house all day tomorrow?”
“Probably. The schedule’s tight. I need to stay on top of the guys to make sure we meet the deadline. Why?”
“I have plans with Tiffany so I’ll be gone most of the day. I just didn’t know if I’d see you in the morning, and I wanted to let you know.”
She could tell he was thinking about how much detail he should demand. “Where you guys off to?”
She was ready. “The lake. A bunch of kids from school are going to kick off summer.”
His nod was slow. “Keep your cell on.”
“I will.” She headed for her room, trying to ignore the thread of guilt winding its way around her throat.
It was only eleven o’clock, but she was exhausted. She hadn’t had a solid night’s sleep since the Ouija board incident.
She unpacked her laptop and waited for it to boot up. Once it was up and ready to go, she did a quick search for Marist University, making note of the library’s operating hours and phone number. She put all the information on her phone so she’d have it for tomorrow. Then she crawled into bed and let out a sigh of relief.
She was reaching for the lamp on her nightstand when her cell phone vibrated. It was Ben.
She thought about ignoring it. She was so tired she could hardly see straight. But then she remembered that Ben had been planning to look into the music box’s history and was probably waiting for her to tell him what she’d seen in the pictures from the retreat center. Even with Nikolai in the picture, she and Ben were still in this together.
“Hey,” she said into the phone.
“I found something out,” he said without greeting her. “About the music box.”
“You did?”
“Yeah,” he said. “It’s not much, but my mom remembers it.”
“Really?”
“Uh-huh. Said her uncle used to bring it out and play it on special occasions when she was little.”
“Did she say anything about it having any … you know, special powers or anything?” she asked.
“No, but I didn’t ask,” he admitted. “And I didn’t tell her about what happened in the attic, either. She’d only worry, and she has enough to worry about.”
Jenny smiled to herself, thinking how surprising it was that someone so rough around the edges could be so sweet to his mom. “I can see that.”
“What about you?” he asked.
“What about me?”
He laughed. His voice was comforting over the phone line, like they’d been friends forever. “The pictures? Didn’t you say you were going to look at them on the computer or something? See if we missed anything at the retreat center?”
“Oh, right,” she said. “I did. I had to mess around with them for a while, but I finally got them to a point where I could make out the pictures. They tell this really weird story, though.”
“Weird, like, how?”
She called up the photos in her memory. “Well, a group of the monks—”
“Wait,” he interrupted. “From the retreat center?”
“Yeah.”
“How do you know?”
“They’re wearing the same robes and they go to … Just let me explain it, okay?”
“Okay,” he agreed.
“So a group of the monks is sitting around some kind of … magical book, and—”
“A magical book?”
Jenny sighed. “Well, I can’t be sure it’s magical, but there’s light streaming from it and it looks kind of … I don’t know, magical.”
“Magical,” he repeated. “Okay, keep going.”
“Anyway, they’re surrounding this book and then in the next scene they
’re flying through a night sky,” she continued. “After that, they’re in some kind of field right below the monastery.”
“The monastery here?” Ben asked.
“That’s why I said the monks were the same. It’s like they started somewhere else and then figured out how to get here and flew here or something. The last pane shows them looking up at the retreat’s main building.”
There was a pause before she heard him exhale into the phone. “Maybe you were right. Maybe they are some kind of cult.”
“Maybe … ”
“What?” he asked. “You have another theory?”
She looked at the ceiling, thinking of everything she’d learned. She couldn’t tell Ben everything. Not yet. She still didn’t know what “everything” was. She decided to test the waters.
“Well,” she said. “I was wondering if it might have something to do with time travel.”
“Time travel? What makes you say that?”
“I don’t know. I’ve just been thinking about the stained glass. There’s something … I don’t know, old-fashioned about those first images. And then it’s like they’re flying through the sky, but they’re not just flying, the stars around them are really bright and blurry.”
“Maybe they’re just flying really fast,” Ben suggested.
“So you think it’s more likely that they’re physically flying than traveling through time?”
He was quiet for a few seconds. “I see your point. And it’s not like time travel’s out of the question.”
“It’s not?”
“No. Don’t you ever watch the Discovery Channel? Or NOVA?”
“Um … I don’t really watch TV.”
“Okay, well, scientists have been saying time travel is possible, from a theoretical standpoint, for ages.”
“They have?”
“Uh-huh. Anyway, do you still have the pictures?”
It took her a minute to answer. She was still reeling from Ben’s easy acceptance of her theory. “I saved them to my flash drive,” she finally said. “Wanna take a look?”
“Definitely. Will you be around tomorrow?”
She thought about her plans with Nikolai. “I’m going to be out most of the day, actually. Want me to just e-mail them to you?”