"She died," Wyatt said quietly, the agony of what he'd lived through the night before still too fresh for those word to come easily.
"What?" Ed plunked his elbows down on the Formica and leaned in close. "Your wife is dead?"
"No. Not now. She was though. For about four hours. I've never been so scared in my life. I was terrified that time would start moving forward again but she was sound asleep in bed at midnight."
"What happened?"
Wyatt explained the horrifying sight he'd witnessed, a dark – creature – coming over the wall, moving like lightening, ripping her head right off her shoulders, and then disappearing. He explained everything that had happened after and his fears now. That he might do something to cause it to happen again.
"What do you think? What should I do?"
"Well for starters, avoid that conversation with her like the plague,' he said, his tone low. "As long as you don't upset her and send her out into the dark again, I'd think she'll be fine."
"I hear a 'but' in there."
"Wyatt, I don't have any more experience with this ripple thing than you do but one thing concerns me."
"What?" His heart felt like it was plummeting to his feet as he waited for the answer.
"Near as I can figure, the ripple is strictly a Hemisphere phenomenon. Mostly anyway. And as you've experienced already, it's kind of peculiar. We know for sure time is stopping for you and your wife. It's also affecting, in some way, the Hunters. As for your boss and his client- It would probably take forever to figure it out why they haven't noticed anything so I'm not even going to try. The rest of us are just experiencing it as a problem with our electronic calendars and time pieces."
"I'm not sure what you're getting at."
"Life is going on. Babies are being born, people are dying. But I'd bet big bucks your wife is the only one who came back to life last night."
"Thank God. I'm still not sure what you're getting at though."
"You want time to start moving forward. You also want everything to be okay with your wife again. When it does, you'll leave town-"
"Yeah. So fast it'll make your head spin." All he wanted to do was get out of this town and never come back.
"What if you leave and whatever brought your wife back to life isn't there to keep her alive?"
Oh God…
He hadn't thought of that. Was it possible? Could she die – forever – once they left the city limits? He'd lived long enough to know what being caught between a rock and a hard place felt like. This situation was a million times worse than any of those had been.
Leave and risk losing her forever, or stay in Hemisphere. A town where innkeepers stocked rooms with rock salt and crucifixes, and handed out visitor's packets like the one he'd finally taken the time to fully read during the long hours of the night.
*Close all windows at sunset.
*Pour a line of salt across all windowsills and exterior doorways. Be sure it touches each side and that the lines are unbroken.
*Do not, under any circumstances, attempt to leave Cottage Inn before sunrise. In the event of an emergency, notify the innkeepers and telephone 911.
*If you choose to ignore this advice, please make sure your will is up to date and you carry a card with next of kin on your person. Please make sure to leave a copy with management in the event of a worst case scenario.
"What kind of place gives out stuff like this?" Wyatt demanded, slapping his hand on the papers he pulled out of the envelope. Papers with crazy warnings and ads for things like bodyguards in case people wanted to experience what little nightlife the town might offer. "And what do they mean, worst case scenario?"
"Hemisphere," Ed said simply. "And by worst case, I'm assuming they mean if someone were to disappear and their body was never found."
"Great choices," he muttered, crumpling the papers in his hand and throwing them as hard as he could. "I wish I'd never brought her here!"
Surprisingly, they sailed through the order window. His lips turning down in a scowl, Ed hurried to the kitchen to remove it from the grill before it could catch fire before returning to stand between the counters again.
"I know for a fact the website was designed to discourage people from visiting the town. At least people like you who don't have a clue what you're getting in to. The early curfew and non-refund policy at all of the B&B's is usually enough to convince them to go elsewhere."
If only he'd been smart enough to do the same.
***
Wyatt spent the next forty-eight hours considering his options. Weighing one choice against the other, trying to choose the lesser of two evils. No matter what way he turned though, Hemisphere seemed to be the only choice. At least the one that offered the most hope for keeping Tessa safe.
He didn't say much the third morning after she'd died, just watched as she slept, still celebrating that she'd been given back to him, just as he'd done the for the past two days.
He'd made some decisions during the night and figured his body and mind must be fueled by adrenalin now. He didn't feel the least bit tired. In fact, he'd never felt more energized as he came up with a plan to win her back. A plan that would show her nothing in the world was more important to him than she was.
He wasn't going to let anything spoil it either so he'd turned his phone off after Tessa got up to take her shower. Richard might be mad today but the odds were better than good he wouldn't remember anything about it tomorrow. And even if he did, even if time finally went back to normal, he didn't care.
At least his efforts so far had made a positive change. Granted, she barely talked to him after she'd woken up, and she'd said even less than that over breakfast, they had made it to the museum with no mention of a divorce.
Encouraged, he made a mental note to leave the phone off for however long they were stuck in the ripple.
For now though, he was just going to appreciate Tessa's enjoyment of the museum. And he did. Every ooh and ahh over the intricately designed quilts filled him with happiness he'd feared he'd never feel again. There was something about staring at the lifeless body of his wife that reminded him how important the simple, and even the mundane, things in life were.
"Our Quilting Guild makes kits for all of the displays," a gray haired curator told them, from a cozy corner sitting area. "They include the cut pieces of fabric, instructions, and full color photos are on the front of each package. If you're interested, of course,"
"Where?" Wyatt asked, ignoring Tessa's raised brows.
The woman pointed to a doorway to her right and he headed in that direction, leaving his wife to have another look at the display. He'd been surprised to find there were only a few dozen quilts. To be honest, when he'd looked the place up online, he'd expected more but Tessa was thrilled and that was all that mattered.
By the time he'd selected a dozen kits, she'd had seen enough and joined him at the antique table that doubled as the checkout. Her eyes got big when she saw what he'd picked out and she gasped softly when the purchases were totaled.
"Yes," the woman explained, her tone unapologetic, "our prices are higher than you might pay elsewhere but everything sold inside our historic courthouse goes to pay for its maintenance." She chuckled then said, "We don't usually sell this much in six months. The director is going to faint when I show her today's receipts."
Any other day, Wyatt might have fainted too – at the dent he'd just put in his oh so important savings. But not anymore. Money had ceased to be important, at least as far as accumulating a million dollars anyway.
"Wyatt, what did you do," Tessa asked, her voice low as they carried four large bags out to their car. "Do you have any idea how much money you just spent? On quilting supplies?"
"Yeah. But these were your favorites, right?" She seemed stunned when he didn't show any buyer's remorse.
"Yes. And that's another thing-" She handed him her bags and he slammed the trunk closed. Her brows rose again when he opened her door for her. "How did you kno
w they were my favorites?"
"I saw how much you loved them. More than the others." He waited to continue until he'd rounded the car and got back inside. Grinning, he said, "I figured they will keep you in quilting heaven for the next year or so. Ready for lunch? Mrs. Hunter told me about a trendy deli down by Fallen Souls Bay."
"What? Where's that?"
"The other side of town. She gave me directions."
She was warming up to him, Wyatt thought, as they sat on the patio at Gourmet Gaby's. She wasn't as open with him as she'd been earlier in their marriage but it was a start.
***
Instead of retiring to their room, as had been his habit each day, Wyatt grabbed a book from the shelves in the parlor, sat down in an overstuffed chair in the corner, and pretended to read. In reality, he was eavesdropping.
He knew Tessa and Mrs. Hunter had tea each afternoon but, to his surprise, even though it was the first time for both of them, they were soon chatting like old friends. What stunned him most was the interest his wife showed in running the bed and breakfast.
Apparently, at some point in her life, she'd halfheartedly considered something like this but she and her husband were so busy traveling with his job, she was explaining, she just worked on her other love, quilting. But she loved the idea of all of it. The cooking, the baking, the making guests feel like they were at a home away from home.
Mrs. Hunter answered all of her questions, honestly from what he could tell, though she obviously skipped over some rather important facts about Hemisphere. As far as the normal innkeeper duties went though, Tessa didn't seem put off at all.
No, in fact, she seemed quite taken with the idea, no matter that it would be hard, oftentimes backbreaking work. In fact, she was so enthused over it all, the seed of another idea started to take root. Wyatt would have to wait until tomorrow because there were some things he needed to check into. Things he didn't want to do in his wife's hearing.
Later, Tessa accompanied him to the diner. She looked a little confused when the whiteboard proclaimed fried chicken as the special of the day, saying, "I thought the cook said it was pot roast today."
From the window between the dining room and grill, Big Ed winked, his smile smug.
Chapter 8
The world around him was so quiet, he could hear her soft snores coming from the bedroom behind him and Wyatt smiled. He'd known that she snored since their wedding night but had never said a word. He never would either. It was just part of the woman he loved. Especially now. It meant she was still here. Hopefully, after today, she always would be.
Of course, the time reset again the night before and Tessa wouldn't remember anything that happened. But that was okay. He'd been on the right track and he planned to stay there.
Between a repeat of what they'd done yesterday, as well as this newest idea, he felt more hopeful than he had in a long time. If he was right, he'd just keep doing these things, and more of the same, until time started moving ahead again. If it never did… Well, he couldn't bear to think of that possibility.
From one of the well-padded chairs on the balcony, he watched the sun peek over the horizon, its pale orange barely reflecting on the water. Not long now and Mrs. Hunter would be up, ready to prepare the feast they'd find on the buffet in the dining room at six-thirty sharp.
With a sigh that was part excitement, part fear, he pushed himself to his feet and padded quietly to the dresser. The faint light of day wasn't enough to actually see the contents of the drawers and he wouldn't risk waking Tessa by turning a light on, so he went by feel, hoping his clothing choices wouldn't clash as loudly as a pair of cymbals at a wake.
Closing himself in the bathroom, the tiles were cold against his bare feet. He hadn't slept a wink all night, didn't feel the need to even try now. Excitement thrummed in his veins as the hope he'd been trying to keep in check built to such a degree that if it came to naught, he'd crash hard.
By the time he heard the muted sound of activity in the kitchen, and he only heard it because he'd cracked the door open, Wyatt had forced himself to calm down. It was going to be a long day with much to do and he needed to keep his wits about him.
Casting a tender glance at Tessa, he closed the door behind him and went in search of their hostess – before the pans clattered to the floor.
***
~
"Wake up, beautiful," Wyatt said, forcing a cheerfulness into his voice he wasn't feeling.
No, what he was feeling was kind of sick to his stomach but he intended to start the day the way he planned to finish it and that was as if their marriage was back on track. As if Tessa was happy again.
"What? What are you doing, Wyatt?" Tessa mumbled, turning from her side to her back, her eyes wide when she saw the tray he was holding, complete with a bud vase and rose.
"I talked to Mrs. Hunter and she was okay with us having breakfast up here this morning."
"Why aren't we having it in the dining room?"
Her tone wasn't quite as flat as it had been lately and he took that as a positive sign. After she sat up, he balanced the tray on one hand and helped her adjust two pillows behind her back before sitting it gently on her legs.
"I figured it would save some time if I brought it up here. We've got a lot to see today so we should get an early start."
"Because we have to leave tomorrow," she said, her voice devoid of emotion again.
"Actually, we don't. I called Richard while I was downstairs. Told him he'd have to contact Max Sanderson and tell him I wouldn't be there until Thursday after all." He thought her eyes might pop out of her head at that and he laughed softly.
"Oh- Wow. Really? Did he have a stroke?"
"I don't know. I didn't give him a chance to argue."
"You hung up on your boss?" she gasped and he laughed again.
"Yeah, I did, if you can believe that. I'm tired of him acting like he owns me. We made plans. We're sticking to them." After a fashion anyway. "So hurry up. Mrs. Hunter asked, since we're going to the museum, if we'd stop at the farmer's market at the courthouse and pick up a few things for her."
"They have a farmer's market?" His heart ached as he watched her reaction to that news. She loved things like that. Like quilting. Like making a home. Like many other things he'd denied her for four long years.
"Yes, ma'am. So if you'd start stuffing your face, please, we can go."
She almost smiled but managed to restrain herself. It was still progress, he told himself. Except for yesterday, she hadn't come close to smiling at him in so long he couldn't remember the last time. No, she didn't trust him yet, but he was breaking down the wall, one chip at a time. He'd take that as a win.
***
Wyatt had been torn. Hemisphere was a quaint little town, during the day anyway, and the courthouse was only three blocks away. It would make for a pleasant walk now that they were kind of talking again. But if they shopped first, he'd have to lug a couple of bags of produce around the museum. On the other hand, if they waited until after they'd seen all the quilts, there might be slim pickings at the market and so they drove instead.
Even at the early hour of eight-thirty, there was already a crowd milling about the booths and tables. Tessa took immediate charge, plucking the list out of his hand and he couldn't help but grin as he followed her from one display to another. If there was one thing his wife knew, it was food. While home cooked meals had been scarce the past few months, she knew her way around a kitchen and could turn out mouthwatering feasts that made his taste buds weep with joy.
It didn't take long before she had everything on the list, and more besides, and he loaded the bags in the backseat of their car, cracking all of the windows so the brisk breeze would help to keep the fruits and vegetables cool.
"Aren't you going to answer that?" Tessa asked, glancing at him as they made their way up the courthouse steps. "It's the fifth time it's rung since we left the house."
"No. I'm not. It's just Richard, calling with more th
reats."
"And you're not worried?" His refusal to be at his boss's beck and call today had clearly thrown her off balance. Wyatt couldn't have asked for a better reaction. It made having to turn his phone back on for the one call he was waiting for worth it.
"Nope. He's not going to fire me. I'm too good at what I do."
"But- You've never stood up to him before."
"Then it's past time, isn't it?" When he pulled his wallet out to pay the admission fee at the museum, she glanced up, surprised they'd reached their destination. He wanted to raise a fist in the air because it meant she'd been so engrossed in a conversation with him, she hadn't been paying attention to where they were.
Having started the morning off with breakfast for two, followed by the market, Wyatt was a million miles ahead of where he'd been the day before. Tessa was actually talking to him, sharing her thoughts and enthusiasm without hesitation.
For the next hour and a half, they stopped at every display in the tiny museum. What he knew about quilting could fit on the head of a pin – with room left for a couple of Army tanks – but he could admire beauty. And there were many beautiful ones. Some, in protective glass cases, claimed to have been used by one famous person or another throughout history. One even belonged to a former, long dead president and his wife, according to a neatly typed flyer in the corner.
Tessa snapped one picture after another, declaring that she was going to figure out how to make replicas of about a dozen of them. Her face lit up as she talked about this pattern and that stitch and he had no doubt she'd do exactly as she'd said. Especially when he presented her with his surprise – the quilting kits.
The smile he remembered was finally there, directed at him, and he felt the butterflies that always fluttered in his belly when she was happy return.
"Thank you, Wyatt. I can't remember when I've enjoyed something quite as much as this." Or when he'd devoted all of his time to her, he knew.
The Ripple: A Hemisphere Story Page 4