A Twist in Time

by Susan Squires

  She took in a gulp of air and let it out slowly.

  “I’ve been thinking, Galen.”

  “Not good, Lucy,” he said, and put his arm around her. “Sometimes thinking is yful.”

  “Well, I’ve been thinking anyway. Jake is a little paranoid.” Like Galen would know that word. “He sees evil everywhere.”

  “Mayhaps he is wise.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t think so. He has lost his way, wanting to believe in things that are not true.” Like Galen had a moment ago, but she wouldn’t mention that. “Galen, you have to go back. You know that, and I know that. You don’t belong in this time.”

  His brows drew together and he looked out over the marsh.

  “We should just take the diamond and the book to Brad. He will fix the machine and you can go to your own time.”

  He looked at his hands. She couldn’t tell what he was thinking. Was he sorry to lose her, just a little? “You say his friends will imprison me.”

  “That was my fear speaking. Casey and Brad are not stupid. They will know you must go back.”

  “I will think on this, Lucy. Until tomorrow. Let us gewend . . . I mean, return to the boat.”

  He rose, and there was a new tension in his body. She was sorry for that. But it couldn’t be helped. There was a new sorrow in her, too, as though she already missed all the closeness she might have felt in the years ahead with him. She touched the little brass plaque on the bench.

  “Good-bye, Miriam and Ernest.”

  Galen whistled for the dog, who raised his head from where he was snuffling after some animal spoor and bounded through mud and water. Lucy started off along the path ahead of Galen.

  She wanted to send him back.

  He had wanted that from the start of this adventure. Then why did it feel so wrong?

  Because being with Lucy felt so right. She would not return with him. He could feel it in the regret that raced across her eyes like clouds across the sky. Why would she want to leave her world, where carts ran without horses and voices told the weather?

  And she did not believe what he thought might have happened to him last night. She believed her voices about the coming weather, but not him. Him she thought only mad. Had she not seen the healing? He had healed more in one night than in the days before altogether. She might believe something happened to him if he was struck by lightning.

  That’s what it felt like—that he had been struck by some force of the gods and now their whispers echoed in his mind. He hardly dared hope that his new connection with wind and earth and water meant that his mother had been right—that he had a destiny that was important to the world. He knew not what to do with the gift from the full moon on the vernal equinox. But he knew that destiny had to involve Lucy, or it would be but barren comfort that he was fulfilling his mother’s prophecy at last. And he was fairly certain that it was Lucy who had brought on this new connection he felt with the world and all that was in it. Lucy, and the moon.

  They swung along the path toward the marina, the dog racing in huge circles around them. That dog needed some sheep to herd. When they came to the flat, paved part where the cars were left, she stopped and sighed.

  “If we are going to be on that boat another night, there’s something we need.” She turned right, up toward the little store. “You go on back to the boat with Vandal.”

  She did not want him with her. Doubt had opened a chasm between them. He watched her walk away. The dog followed her. “Vandal,” he called, and pointed to his side. The dog barked excitedly and circled round to Galen. “She does not want us now.”

  Still he froze where he was, torn. He wanted to go to her, command her to come to the boat with him. He would make love to her again and show her how right it was that they should be together. Even as he thought about her, that feeling of being full and drained together pooled in his loins. He didn’t just long for her body. He longed for the feeling of completeness he had when he held her.

  Why did she have to bring up going back to his time? Women. Always they wanted to decide, to talk things over when talking could do no good, only harm. Could she not live with him on this boat, without deciding? He would let this new thing inside him grow and tell him what he was to do with this connection he felt to the world around him. He and Lucy together.

  He watched her grow tiny as she walked into the paved area in front of the little store.

  He started walking toward her. The problem with Lucy was that one couldn’t command her. The image of her riding his weapon in wild abandon as she controlled their swiving did really interesting things to his body. So, equal partners could be . . . good. Very well. He would meet her as she came out of the store and walk back with her. He would not obey her commands, but neither would he command her. She could not resist him, and he would show her that they were meant to be together and that she could not resist the forces that drove them to be together. Then she would not talk of him going back. They would just be.

  When he was about halfway to the store, a car pulled into the paved area, sleek and black. A man got out and walked into the store. Galen wasn’t sure why, but he broke into a run.

  Chapter Nineteen

  The radio was blaring inside the Quik Stop, as always. The clerk waved as she came in. This was going to be embarrassing, but if Lucy was to spend even one more night with Galen, she was in need of some condoms. The fact that their time was running out made her feel positively ill inside.

  “That storm on the north coast is going to miss the city. But you folks up in Mendocino will get yet another bout of rain and wind tonight . . . ,” the radio announced.

  “Hey, how are you?” the clerk called. “Uh, fine . . .” What was his name? “Wally.”

  She went aisle by aisle finding nothing until she realized they probably kept condoms up by the register to prevent shoplifting. No doubt under lock and key. Great. She wasn’t even going to skate by without having to ask for them. Well, she was a big girl. She’d survive asking for condoms. If only she could suppress the blush that was all too inevitable.

  “And now for some local news,” the announcer said. “Cable cars came to a standstill while forty arrests were being made at the protest in Union Square yesterday. . . .”

  She marched to the counter. Yep. There they were in a plastic case with a lock right behind the clerk. Oh, dear. Pleasure Pack. Thintensity, Magnum. Skyn. Do they have to be named things only guys would ever say? She’d have to yell over the radio. “Uh, can . . . can I buy some condoms please?”

  Wally gave her a smirk. “Guess he’s feeling better.”

  She gave an embarrassed smile and felt the blush creeping up her neck. “Yeah. Newlyweds and all.”

  “The City Supervisors voted to help make case for same-sex marriage in the Supreme Court by filing a brief as a friend of the court. . . .”

  “Well, what’s your pleasure, so to speak? We got your flavored kinds. We got the special ribbed ones. And the ones that vibrate.” He lifted his brows and wiggled them.

  Yuck. “Trojans will be fine.”

  His hand hovered over several of the boxes labeled: Magnum. “Size?”

  “Uh.” She swallowed. “Extralarge?”

  “Lucky man,” Wally said wistfully, handing her a box. The door behind her must have opened. She heard the bell.

  “The murder rate is climbing again in the city. . . .”

  “Lucy?”

  Oh, God. She knew that voice. Brad.

  A thousand thoughts flashed through her brain. Fear predominated, though. Stupid. She was going to seek him out tomorrow anyway. He was just a little early.

  “Brad.” She turned. It was Brad all right—pressed chinos, sage green IZOD golf shirt, Bruno Magli penny loafers with no socks, and all.

  “Where have you been, Lucy?” he asked, his brow darkening.

  “Oh, Brad, I have been so silly. I started thinking all sorts of things. That you . . . and Casey . . . well, never mind. I got over it. I was
going to come and find you tomorrow.”

  Brad’s gaze roved over her face, as though he couldn’t actually believe it was her. It fell on the packages of condoms in her hands. He flushed, and it wasn’t in embarrassment.

  “You’re fucking him. Of course you’re fucking him, you little whore. You weren’t coming to give yourself up. More like you were figuring out more ways to screw him while you screwed my career.” He was so mad he was sputtering.

  “Brad!” Confusion, then outrage washed over her. What right had he to talk to her like that?

  He strode forward and gripped her by the arm. “I’ve got the machine. Now you’re going to give me the diamond and the book and then you’re coming with me.”

  “Hey!” Wally shouted, coming out from behind the counter.

  “Butt out, creep,” Brad hissed, and jerked Lucy to the door. The clerk hovered uncertainly.

  Lucy struggled. “Get your hands off me!”

  “And in other news, the body found this morning floating in the water near Pier Forty has been identified as Jake Lowell, owner of the apartment building at 1632 Filbert . . .”

  Both Brad and Lucy froze. “. . . beaten to death, Mr. Lowell’s death is attributed to gang violence. The Chief of Police has vowed to stop the gangs from terrorizing . . .”

  Lucy looked at Brad. “Jake?” She couldn’t breathe. “Jake?”

  Guilt flashed across Brad’s face. He might not have done this. But he knew who did. So did she. Casey.

  And that meant they’d killed Jake to get to her . . . and Jake had been right all along.

  “Come on,” Brad said through gritted teeth, coming to himself. She tried to pull back, but he dragged her toward the door.

  “Hey!” the clerk yelled. “I’ll . . . I’ll call the police.”

  “Go ahead!” Brad yelled over his shoulder. “You’ll be up on charges of harboring a fugitive.”

  “A fugitive!” Wally hustled back behind the counter. “Hey, I don’t know who she is.”

  “Keep it that way.” Brad shoved out the door, dragging Lucy with him. Fear coiled in her belly. Why had she come up here alone? She staggered across the parking lot behind him, twisting to loosen his grip.

  “You’re not taking me anywhere. I’ll give you the diamond. But then Galen and I—”

  “Galen and you?” Brad turned, his face twisted into a mask of fury. “You two-timing . . . and to think I was about to ask you to marry me. . . .” He took her other arm above the elbow so tightly it would leave bruises and shook her. She’d never seen someone so angry. It was frightening on some elemental level. She couldn’t speak, couldn’t even think, as her teeth jarred and her head snapped. “You took my love, and you pissed on it.”

  Brad loved her? “We . . . were friends,” she gasped. “I thought we were friends.”

  “Like hell you did. You played me. You made me fall in love with you.” Somewhere she heard a dog barking. Brad paused for breath and raised his arm.

  “Brad . . .” She tried to get a hand up to block the blow, but she was too late. The arm came down. At least he hit her openhanded. Her head snapped, her whole face stinging.

  A presence loomed behind Brad. A big hand on his shoulder jerked him away. Lucy staggered back as Galen whipped Brad around. Galen. Relief swamped her. A look of stunned surprise flooded Brad’s face just before Galen’s fist connected to his cheekbone and he went sprawling on the pavement.

  Vandal barked, deep in his chest, as he circled Brad.

  Galen’s face didn’t show the same blind fury as Brad’s had, just grim determination. But Lucy’s relief vanished nonetheless. Galen’s blue eyes were hard as ice chips. He glanced to her to make sure she was okay, then bore down on Brad, who scooted away on his butt.

  “Hey,” Brad said. “You can’t—”

  Galen leaned down, grabbed Brad by the throat with one hand. His left hand joined his right and lifted Brad off his feet. “You harm my Lucy?” he growled.

  Lucy saw his fingers tighten around Brad’s throat, digging into the flesh. Brad kicked ineffectually and started to gurgle, clawing at Galen’s fingers. Vandal pulled on one of Brad’s pant legs, growling. Lucy scrambled up from the asphalt. “Galen, Galen, you’ll kill him.”

  “Ja,” Galen said through gritted teeth. “I acwell him.” He shook Brad, whose face was now turning violent red, shading into purple. Veins stood out on his forehead.

  Lucy pulled at Galen’s shoulder. “You can’t.”

  He shook her off. Obviously, he thought he could. At that moment a dark stain bloomed over the fly on Brad’s pressed chinos and the smell of urine flooded the air. A stream of it ran down his leg and pooled on the asphalt. Vandal leaped back and began his circling bark again. Brad’s tongue jutted out through his mouth. In another moment it would be too late.

  “I’ll never forgive myself if you kill him,” Lucy said quietly.

  That seemed to get through to Galen as her shouts had not. He grunted in disgust and tossed Brad to the pavement. Supporting himself on shaky arms, Brad heaved in a breath and then another. At least he wasn’t dead. His first breaths were followed immediately by heaves as the contents of his stomach spewed onto the asphalt.

  Galen stood rooted to the earth, clenching and unclenching his fists.

  “Vandal, come,” Lucy said. The dog stopped barking to look her way; then, to Lucy’s surprise, he actually came to her side, panting.

  “You are not enough for Lucy,” Galen growled at Brad, his own chest heaving. “You live by her mild-heartness only. You go now.”

  Brad didn’t need encouragement. He scrambled to his feet and tottered to his car. He was going to have dandy finger-shaped bruises around his neck. “You were just a charity case,” he croaked, rubbing his throat as he leaned against the Jag. “Like a rescue dog. I took you on because I felt sorry for you when no other man would have you.”

  Lucy hoped he didn’t have a gun in the car. She tried to pull Galen away, but he was still making like “pillar of Stonehenge.”

  “You could have had everything,” Brad said in a hoarse half voice. A glimpse of sadness rushed up into his eyes. He looked as though he might have said more, but then a kind of hatred engulfed the wistful look. He shook his head in disgust and slammed the door. If he had a gun, he didn’t have the courage to use it. His swung the Jag round and squealed out of the parking lot onto the highway, causing another driver to slam on his brakes and give a long protesting honk.

  Galen stared after the retreating car. “Hey, that was quite a show you put on.” The doughy clerk hurried over.

  Great. He’d seen the whole thing. As a matter of fact, any cars passing on the highway would have gotten an eyeful, too. With her luck they’d be calling the highway patrol or something. “Old boyfriend,” she explained. Vandal looked at the clerk with interest but didn’t growl. Apparently the clerk’s aura didn’t scream “threat.”

  “He said you were . . . uh . . . fugitives. Some diamond? Are you hiding out?”

  Well, that was closer than she’d like him to get. She made her mouth rueful. “I guess he thought I should have returned the ring, even though he broke up with me.”

  “Crazy.” The little man shook his head. “Bet you haven’t seen the last of him.”

  “You’re probably right about that,” she muttered.

  “Looks like your husband can handle it, though.” Wally’s eyes were wide with admiration. “Never seen anybody just . . . pick somebody up by the neck.”

  Galen turned to her, ignoring the clerk entirely. “You are well, Lucy?” His eyes roved over her face. It felt swollen. She’d probably bruise, but it could have been way worse.

  “I’m fine,” she said. Which was a total lie, since she’d started to shake.

  Galen’s face softened. “We go now.” He picked up her bag that had fallen to the asphalt and put his arm around her. Wally returned reluctantly to his post, all the while casting longing glances out to the road, hoping for more excitement. Galen
guided her back down the road, Vandal at their heels.

  “You were r-right,” she stuttered. “He . . . he did lust after me. How did I not see it?”

  “Because you did not lust after him.”

  “He . . . he called me a whore.”

  Galen probably didn’t know what that was. But he didn’t ask. “This Brad is andig. Think not on him.”

  “Andy?” They had to use Latin to sort that one out. “Oh, jealous.” Galen spelled it for her. Andig. Somehow that seemed funny. Lucy got the giggles. Galen chuckled with her, a rumble in his chest, right up until she started to cry. Then he just stopped and held her.

  “Shhhh,” he said, kissing her hair until her sobs turned to hiccups.

  He didn’t know. She had to tell him. “We have to get out of here,” she said. “Brad will bring Casey.”

  “Ja,” Galen said, his voice soothing. “We sail.”

  “That isn’t the worst.” It seemed natural now to have to tilt her head so much to look up at him. “Jake’s dead, Galen. They killed him.” Her eyes welled with tears. “He died . . . for me. For us. They . . . they must have tortured him, but he didn’t tell them anything or Casey would already be here.” The words poured out, and she couldn’t stop them. “I don’t think Brad did it. But he knew. He knew about it. And he didn’t stop it. So he’s not who I thought he was. And he has no control over Casey. And Casey is exactly what Jake thought he was. Jake was right. He was right. And it cost him his life. We cost him his life.” Tears coursed down her face as the words dried up.

  Galen’s mouth went grim. “Jake is in Valhalla now. He drinks and eats and fucks the Valkyrie.”

  She gave a watery chuckle. “Hope that’s his idea of heaven.”

  “How not?” Galen smiled. But she could see more sober thoughts flickering behind his eyes. “We go now.” He glanced to the sky, which was still blue as blue. The wind was rising, though. “It will storm tonight.”

  “The radio said it would miss us.”

  “It will not.” He sounded so sure she was taken aback.

  “I don’t know if I can sail in weather,” she said. Her voice was smaller than she’d like.