Times Change

Chapter 11

She didn’t speak. In the past thirty minutes, Sunny had gone from believing her sister had a wicked case of sunstroke to wondering if she herself had gone quietly mad without noticing it.

The twenty-third century. Black holes. Spaceships. Sunny had finally lapsed into silence as Libby had recounted a story about a mission to Mars—dear Lord, Mars—and Cal’s fateful encounter with an uncharted black hole, which, through a combination of luck, skill and the mysterious hand of destiny, had shot him backward from the middle of the twenty-third century to the spring of last year.

The confused Cal, an intergalactic cargo pilot with an affection for flying and poetry, had become a time traveler.

Time travel.

Oh, God, she thought. Time travel.

She remembered clearly the faint smile on Jacob’s face when he had told her of his current experiments. But that didn’t mean— No. She took a steadying breath, determined to control her wandering imagination.

It had to be some sort of joke. People did not, accidentally or otherwise, zoom through time and fall in love. Jacob was from Philadelphia, she reminded herself as she gulped down brandy. He was a scientist with a bad attitude, and that was all.

“You don’t believe me,” Libby said with a sigh.

Care and patience, Sunny told herself as she dragged a hand through her hair. Her sister needed care and patience. “Honey, let’s just take this slow.”

“You think I’m making it up.”

“I’m not sure what I think.” She took a cleansing breath. “Okay, you’re trying to tell me that Cal, a former captain in—what was it?”

“The International Space Force.”

“Right. That he crashed his spaceship in the forest, after being sent through time by an encounter with a black hole.”

She’d hoped that when she said it herself, when Libby heard it repeated, her sister would come out of whatever spell she was in. But Libby just nodded. “That’s fairly accurate.”

“Fairly accurate.” Sunny tried again. “And now Jacob, going about it through more organized methods, followed the same route so he could visit with his brother.”

“He wants to take him back. I could see it by the way he looked at me.”

The misery on Libby’s face had Sunny reaching out a hand. “Cal loves you. Nothing J.T. did or didn’t do could change that.”

“No, but . . . Sunny, can’t you see? He didn’t pop up here on impulse. He must have worked for months, even years, to find the way. If a man’s obsessed with something—”

“All right,” she interrupted. “He didn’t pop up here on impulse. For reasons I’ve never fully understood, he’s angry that Cal married you and decided to live in Oregon.”

“Not just Oregon,” Libby shot back. “Twentieth-century Oregon.”

“Now, take it slow, honey. I know you’re upset, but—”

“Upset?” Libby countered. “Damn right I’m upset. The man traveled over two hundred years, and he’s not going to want to go back without Cal.”

At a loss, Sunny flopped back on the bed. “Libby, you’ve got to get ahold of yourself. You’re the sensible one, remember? You have to know this is all nonsense.”

“Okay.” Deciding on a different tack, she took a deep breath. “Can you tell me, honestly tell me, that you haven’t noticed something odd about J.T.?” She held up a hand before Sunny could answer. “Not just eccentric, not just endearingly different, but downright odd?”

“Well, I . . .”

“Ah.” Taking her sister’s hesitation for agreement, she pressed on. “How did he get here?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“I mean . . . did he drive up in a car? I didn’t notice one.”

“No, he didn’t come in a car. At least . . .” She rubbed her suddenly damp hands on her thighs. “He walked out of the woods.”

“Walked out of the woods.” Libby nodded grimly. “In the middle of winter.”

“Lib, I’ll concede that J.T.’s a little unusual.”

“The way he seems fascinated or puzzled by ordinary objects?”

She remembered the kitchen faucet. “Well, yes.”

“The way he doesn’t always understand colloquialisms or phrases?”

“That, too, but—Libby, just because the man acts a little odd occasionally and has a hard time with slang doesn’t mean he’s an alien from outer space.”

“Not an alien,” Libby said patiently. “He’s as human as you or I. He’s just from the twenty-third century.”

“Oh, is that all?”

“Maybe there’s a simpler way to convince you.” She rose and took Sunny’s hand. “Whatever happens between Cal and me, we’ll work it out together. But you have to understand it, all of it. I’m only doing this because you have a right to know what you’re walking into.”

She nodded. She didn’t dare speak, because too much of what Libby had told her made a horrible kind of sense. And she was afraid, very afraid.

With competent movements, Libby took what seemed to be a watch from the deep drawer of her desk. While Sunny looked on, she attached a line of clear wire from the stem of the watch to the computer. After booting up the machine, she gestured.

“Come on over.”

Cautious, Sunny joined her. “What is that thing?”

“It’s Cal’s wrist unit. Computer.”

Working.

Sunny jumped back a foot at the sound of the mechanical voice and sent a chair tumbling. “How did you do that?”

“With a mix of twentieth-century and twenty-third-century technology.”

“But . . . but . . . but . . .”

“You haven’t seen anything yet,” Libby warned, and faced the screen again. “Computer, relate file information on Jacob Hornblower.”

Hornblower, Jacob, born Philadelphia, June 12, 2224. Astrophysicist, currently head of AP department at Durnam Science Laboratory, Philadelphia. Graduated Princeton University magna cum laude 2242, earned degree in law 2244. Status AAA. Doctorate in astrophysics from O’Bannion 2248. Named MVP Intergalactic Softball League 2247-49. Position: pitcher. ERA 1.28.

Sunny bit back a hysterical giggle. “Stop.”

The computer went silent. On rubbery legs, Sunny stepped back until she collided with the bed.

“It’s true, isn’t it?”

“Yes. Take a few deep breaths,” Libby advised her. “It takes a while to absorb it.”

“He told me he was experimenting with time travel.” She felt the laughter bubble up again, hot and uncontrollable. “That’s a good one.” She squeezed her eyes shut. It was a dream, she told herself, just a ridiculous dream. But when she opened her eyes again everything was the same. “Looks like the joke’s on me.” She heard the door slam on the floor below. Instantly she was on her feet. “I’m going to have this out with him, right now.”

“Why don’t you—” Libby cut herself off when Sunny rounded on her. “Never mind.” She sunk back on the bed as Sunny charged down the stairs.

But it was Cal she ran into, not Jacob. “Where is he?” she demanded.

“He’s, ah . . . out. Is Libby upstairs?”

“Yes.” Feet spread, eyes challenging, she blocked the stairs. “She’s upset.”

“She needn’t be.”

Because what she saw in his eyes answered some of her questions, she relaxed. “I’m glad you realize what a lucky jerk you are, Caleb.”

“I love you, too.”

She relented enough to kiss him. Later, she decided. Later she would think all this through. And probably go insane. But for now she had a job to do.

“I want to know where your creep of a brother is. And don’t try to put me off. Libby told me.”

But he was still cautious. “Told you what?”

She tilted her head. “Is it too late to welcome you to the twentieth century?”

A new smile tugged at his mouth. “No. J.T.’s out in his ship. It’s about five kilometers northeast. Just follow the tracks.” He caught her arm before she could rush off. “He’s going through a bad time, Sunny. I’ve hurt him.”

“Not nearly as much as I’m going to.”

He started to speak again, but he remembered that Jacob had always been able to take care of himself. He went upstairs to his wife.

She was still sitting on the bed, staring at, but not out of, the window. Her face was composed, her hands folded in her lap so that they pressed lightly against the life growing in her. Looking at her, Caleb felt a single stunning wave of love.

“Hi.”

She jolted, struggled to smile. “Hi. Busy day.” Before he could speak, she sprang up. “I’ve got a dozen things to do. I haven’t finished unpacking, and I really ought to fix something special for dinner tonight.”

“Wait a minute.” He took her arms before she could walk by, then simply brought her into his. “I love you, Libby.”

“I know.” With her head on his shoulder, she held on.

“No, I don’t think you do.” Gently he pulled her away to study her face. “Even after all this time, I don’t think you do. How could you think I would leave? Then or now.”

She just shook her head.

“Sit down,” he murmured.

“Caleb, I don’t know what to say to you.” She sat, twining her nervous fingers together. “I can only imagine how you must feel, having your brother here when you thought you’d never see him again. Being reminded of everything you gave up, and the people you left behind.”

“Are you finished?”

Her only answer was a miserable shrug.

“J.T. gave me a copy of a letter he found when he dug up our time capsule.” He pulled her fingers apart to link them with his as he sat beside her. “He didn’t read it,” he continued. “It was still in the envelope.”

“How did he copy it if it was still in—” She caught herself and managed a small laugh. “Stupid question.”

“You put it in the capsule so I’d be able to read it when I got back.” He took it out of his pocket. Libby frowned at it. It looked precisely as it had when she’d slipped it into the box. And yet . . . the paper was different, she realized when she touched it. Thicker, stronger. And, she added to herself, probably not paper at all. At least not as she thought of paper.

“I stopped on the way back from the ship to read it.” He spread the letter in his lap. “If I had been crazy enough to leave you, this would have brought me back. Somehow.”

“It wasn’t meant to do that.”

“I know.” He took her hand, kissed it. “What it means is a great deal to me. Do you remember what you wrote?”

“Some of it.”

“This part.” He looked down at the letter. “‘I wanted you to know that in my heart I wanted you to be where you belonged.’” He set the letter aside. “Did you mean that?”

“Yes.”

“Then you’ll be happy to know that I’m exactly where I belong.” With long, slow kisses, he eased her back on the bed. “And so are you.”

***

Sunny didn’t have any trouble finding the tracks. There were only two sets, both from the Land Rover. One leading away from the cabin and one leading back. Her face grim, she kept her hands firm on the wheel and her mind empty.

She wouldn’t think, not yet. Once she had begun to think it would probably send her screaming off a cliff. True, she’d always had an affection for the unusual, but this . . . this was going a bit too far.

When she saw the ship, nestled comfortably on a blanket of snow, she hit the brakes too hard and sent the Land Rover skidding sideways. It looked as big as a house.

She imagined it was half the size of the cargo ship Cal had piloted. Probably sleeker, jazzier. Its smooth white finish gleamed in the sunlight. She saw what appeared to be a window that banded around the bow. As she gaped, Jacob stepped up to it and looked out at her.

The sight of him inside it, inside of something that shouldn’t even exist, turned her blank astonishment back into fury. Abandoning the Land Rover, she leaped out and stormed over to the ship.

He released the hatch. The door slid silently open, and a set of stairs flowed out. She mounted them, moving a little slower now. Going over the speech he’d planned, Jacob reached out to take her hand and help her through the entranceway.

“Sunny, I—” Whatever he had planned to say was interrupted when her fisted hand connected solidly with his jaw. Off balance and seeing stars, he stumbled back and landed hard on the deck.

She loomed over him, righteous fury glowing in her eyes. “Get up, you miserable coward, so I can hit you again.”

He sat where he was for a moment, rubbing a hand over his jaw. He didn’t mind the blow so much. He knew he’d had it coming. But he didn’t care to be called a coward. Under the circumstances, though, it was best to let her get it all out of her system.

“You’re upset.”

“Upset?” The word hissed out between her teeth. “I’ll show you upset.” Because he obviously wasn’t going to get up, she dived onto him.

She knocked the wind out of him with another punch as he grappled for her hands. “Damn it, Sunny, stop. I’m going to have to hurt you.”

“Hurt me?” Blind with anger, she struck out as he struggled to roll on top of her. This time her knee slipped by his guard and landed dead on. As the air whistled out of his lungs, he collapsed on top of her. “Get off me, you creep.”

He couldn’t have moved if his life had depended on it. The pain, deserved or not, was like a silvery shimmer from crotch to brain. His only defense was his weight as he sprawled breathlessly over her.

“Sunny . . .” He dragged air into his lungs and saw a new constellation. “Your match,” he conceded.

The fight had drained out of her. She didn’t want him to know how weak and helpless she felt. With her jaw tensed, she prayed her voice wouldn’t tremble.

“I said get off me.”

“As soon as I’m sure I’m still intact. If you let me get my wind back, we can go another round.” He managed to lift his head.

She was crying. Huge, silent tears welled up in her eyes and slid down her cheeks. More stunned by them than by the blow, he shook his head. “Don’t.” He brushed the tears away, but more fell to replace them. “Damn it, Sunny, stop it.”

“Let go of me.”

He rolled aside, determined to leave her alone until she composed herself. Before he realized it, he was gathering her close, dragging her onto his lap, stroking her hair.

“Don’t touch me.” Her body was rigid. Anger and humiliation battled inside her. “I don’t want you to touch me.”

“I know. I have to.”

“You lied to me.”

“Yeah.” He pressed his lips to her hair. “I’m sorry.”

“You used me.”

“No.” His arms tightened. “No. You know better than that.”

“I don’t know you at all.” She tried to arch away, but he only cradled her closer. Abruptly she threw her arms around him, burying her face against his throat. “I hate you. I’ll hate you as long as I live.”

The tears were no longer silent. They poured out in hard, racking sobs as she clung to him. He said nothing, had nothing to say. The woman who had knocked him flat with a right hook he understood. The one who clawed and spit and fought he knew how to handle. This one, this soft, weeping bundle in his arms, was a mystery. Defenseless, heartbroken, fragile.

And he fell in love with this Sunny, as well.

She clung to him, hating herself. She wanted to strike out, to make him pay for breaking her heart, but she could only hold on, taking the comfort he offered.

Carefully he rose with her in his arms. He needed to soothe, to protect, to love. He wanted to stroke her until her tears dried, hold her until her body calmed again. Most of all he wanted to show her that of all the things he’d done falling in love with her was the most important.

She couldn’t stop, though she despised every tear. She couldn’t fight him now, at her weakest point. Now she could only hold on to him, let the storm rage and find some small comfort in the gentle way he held her.

He took her into his cabin, where the light was dim. The bed was water-soft, covered with pale blue sheets. The walls were blue, as well. A quiet, restful color. Still holding her, he lay with her on the bed while her tears dampened his cheek.

When her sobs began to lessen, he trailed his lips down her temple to her mouth. Her lips were wet, and they were still trembling. As his touched them, she pulled away to roll onto her side.

“Sunny.” Feeling awkward, he touched her shoulder. “Please, talk to me.”

She didn’t bother to jerk his hand away. She just stared at the pale blue wall. “I feel like such a fool. Crying over you.”

He didn’t know if any woman had ever done that before. Certainly none had ever cried in his arms. “I never wanted to hurt you.”

“Being lied to always hurts.”

“I didn’t lie. I just didn’t tell you the truth.” He could see the logic of it, needed to. But he doubted she could. “I was going to tell you everything today.”

She nearly laughed. “Do they still use that old chestnut in the twenty-third century?” She had said it out loud. The twenty-third century. And she was in what could only be called a spaceship with a man who wouldn’t be born until she was long dead. She’d have preferred to believe it was all a dream, but the pain was too real.

“I came for my brother,” he told her. “I never planned to become involved with you, to fall in love with you. It happened too fast.”

“I was there, remember?”

“Look at me.”

She shook her head. “Let’s just forget it, J.T. A man like you probably thinks he’s entitled to have a woman in every century.”

“I said look at me.” Patience gone, he pulled her back, holding her by the shoulders so that she was forced to meet his eyes. “I love you.”

The words seeped into her and weakened her resolve. Her only defense was heat. “Apparently the definition of love has changed. Don’t lose any sleep over it. I’ll be fine.”

“Will you listen to me?”

“It doesn’t matter what you say.”

“Then it won’t hurt to listen.”

She shook her head fiercely. Now that the tears were over, she was ready to lash out again. “You never intended to stay with me, to build a life with me. It was just a temporary arrangement for you. But I can’t blame you for that. You never promised, you only implied. And you never used the old candlelight-and-wine routine to romance stars into my eyes.”

But the stars had been there, she thought. She’d been blinded by them. “In any case, I’m responsible for my own feelings. But I can blame you, and I can detest you, for not being honest.”

“It was too complicated. I didn’t know how you would react.”

“I thought scientists were supposed to experiment. You are a scientist, aren’t you?”

“Yes. All right. The fact is, I just didn’t want to think about anything but you when I was with you.” When she struggled to turn away again, he held her still. “You wanted honesty, so listen to it. Whatever I did, it was because I couldn’t stop myself. I didn’t want to stop myself. If that was wrong, it was because I stopped thinking with my head. If I handled it badly, it was because I didn’t know how to approach you here, now. I didn’t feel I could tell you about all of this. And then I was falling in love and didn’t know how to deal with it. Didn’t know how you would expect me to.”

Frustrated, he stroked her cheek. “Sunny, I didn’t think it was possible to tell you the truth. And I didn’t know how . . .” He stopped, swore. “If it had been possible, I would have shown you more romance, but I didn’t have a gift for you.”

“A gift?” She’d really believed she was too weary to become annoyed again. She’d been wrong. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Romance,” he repeated, more than a little embarrassed. “Attention, flattery, the giving of gifts.”

“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. Romance? Is that your superior species’ definition of romance?” She pushed his hands away. “Idiot. Romance has nothing to do with presents or flattery. It has to do with caring and compassion, with sharing your hopes and your dreams. It means being honest.”

“This is honest.”

He lowered his mouth to hers. She prepared to resist, to hold him off with icy disdain. But for the first time his mouth wasn’t hungry, it wasn’t passionate, it wasn’t desperate. It was, instead, infinitely tender. The beauty of it shimmered through her like liquid sunlight. Her defensive front of disinterest melted away like snow in the spring.

He looked at her. Was there confusion in his eyes? she wondered. It couldn’t matter, she told herself. She couldn’t allow herself to care so much a second time. But he laid a soothing hand on her cheek and touched his lips experimentally to hers.

He hadn’t known being gentle could be so weakening. Or so fulfilling. There had always been power when he’d touched her. Bolts of power. Now there was only warmth, a quiet river of it, running through him. He wanted to share it with her, to show her how precious she was and would always be.

“I love you,” he murmured. When she tried to shake her head, he only repeated the words again and again as his mouth whispered over hers.

She couldn’t fight him like this. Not when the fog had rolled in over her brain and her body was sinking in some thick, syrupy darkness. Her breath shook as she tried to say his name. He covered her trembling lips with his own. Patient, so patient, as hers warmed and moved beneath his.

Time, he thought as he slowly deepened the kiss. They would take all they needed. And when the time had ended she would know that he would never love again as he had loved her.

He undressed her. Though his fingers shook from the pull of his own emotions, they didn’t hurry. Button by button he loosened her shirt, pressing his lips lightly to each new opening. Softly, sweetly, he trailed his fingers over her flesh, parting the material.

There was no greed now, only an aching, bittersweet tenderness.

Surrendering, she eased his sweater up over his shoulders so that she could feel the warmth of his skin against hers. If she only had today, she would forget all the yesterdays, all the tomorrows. As his mouth met hers again, it was as though it were the first time they had kissed. The first time they had loved.

This she would remember. The heady flavor of his lips, those quiet, lovely words he spoke against her mouth. Not promises. There could be no promises. But there was the depthless green of his eyes to drown in. There was the impossible gentleness of his hands to be lost in.

He slipped her jeans over her hips, following the route with his mouth, down her thigh, over her knee and her calf. In the dim, silent room, there was no day or night. And a heart so filled with love could not break.

She enchanted him, until he believed they would always be here together, alone, with only the soft sigh of the bed shifting, yielding beneath the pressure of their bodies. Alone, with only the soothing stroke of her fingers over his skin. With only her drifting, tenuous scent swimming in his brain.

And the love he felt pulsed through his blood, seeped into his bones, until he knew he would never be free of it. There was joy in that. She would be with him, despite all distances.

He slipped into her with a yearning that was deep. She enfolded him with an unquestioning generosity. As they moved together, time stood beautifully still.

***

She woke, blinking in the darkness and afraid. Beside her, the bed was cool. He was gone. Panic snatched at her throat and had her rearing up. She bit back the cry and steadied herself.

He wasn’t gone—or at least he hadn’t gone far, for she was still on the ship, in his bed. With her heart pounding, she lay back and tried to think.

The way he had loved her had been so sweet, so kind, so patient. And so much like goodbye. She couldn’t cry again, Sunny promised herself as she squeezed back tears. Crying solved nothing. If she loved him, and she did, the only thing she could do for him was to be strong.

She dressed in the dark, then went to look for him.

The ship confused her. There was another cabin, smaller than Jacob’s but painted in the same pale blues. She passed through another area she assumed was the galley only because there was an empty carton of some sort of drink on a smooth, narrow counter and a metal door built into the wall that after a critical study she decided was some sort of oven.

She found him on the flight deck, sitting at the command console. His wore only his jeans. The viewing screen showed a panorama of forest and the shadow of distant ridges. He was staring through it as he spoke to the computer.

“Set coordinates for 1500 hours.”

Affirmative.

“Preferred destination as close as possible to original departure data, time and position.”

Understood.

“Estimate approximate flight time from lift-off to time warp.”

Working . . . Estimate three hours, twenty-two minutes from lift-off to orbit of sun. Is closer calculation desired?

“No.”

“Jacob.”

He spun in his chair, swore under his breath. “Disengage.”

The computer screen went blank.

“I thought you were sleeping.”

“I was.” Accusations, threats, pleas, sprang to her lips. She bit them back. She had promised herself she would be strong. “You’re going back.”

“I have to.” He rose to cross to her. “Sunny, I’ve tried to find another way. There is none.”

“But—”

“Do you love your parents?”

“Yes, of course.”

“And I love mine.” He took her hand, weighed it in his. “I can’t begin to explain what we went through when we thought Cal was dead. My mother . . . She’s very strong, but when the news came that he was lost, presumed dead, she was ill with grief. Days, weeks.”

“I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “I can only imagine how you must have felt.”

He shook his head. Those days were still difficult to speak of. “And then, when we learned the truth, they both tried to accept. He was alive, and that meant everything. But to know that they would never see him again, never know.” He broke off in frustration. “Maybe they can accept, especially when I explain to them that he’s happy here. When I tell them about the child.”

“What child?”

“Cal’s—Libby’s carrying a child. Didn’t she tell you?”

“No.” Shaken, Sunny pressed a hand to her temple. “Everything was so confused. And I . . . Libby’s pregnant.” With a little laugh, she dropped her hand “How about that? We’re going to have a niece or nephew.” It seemed right, only right, that when her world was at its darkest there should be that tiny glimmer of life, and of hope, in the future.

Yet it was that same future she was losing him to.

“Having a baby only takes nine months,” she began, trying to sound casual. “I don’t suppose you’d consider hanging around to see whether we should buy blue or pink balloons.”

It was so easy to see beyond her smile, into her eyes, where the sadness hovered. “I can’t take a chance on leaving the ship here so long—and I’ve already overstayed my projected equations. Sunny, my parents have a right, a need, to know about Cal’s life, about the child. Their grandchild.”

“Of course.”

“If I could stay . . . There’s nothing there that means as much to me as what I’ve found with you. You have to believe that.”

She struggled to remain calm while her world silently fell apart. “I believe that you love me.”

“I do. But if I don’t go back, if I don’t give them that much, I could never live with myself.”

She turned away, because she understood too well. “Once, when I was nine or ten, I wandered off. We were at the cabin for the summer and I wanted to explore. I thought I knew the forest so well. But I got lost. I spent a night under a tree. When Mom and Dad found me the next afternoon they were frantic. I’ve never seen my father cry, not like that.”

“Then you know why I can’t just turn my back on them.”

“Yes, of course.” She managed to smile as she faced him. “I’m sorry I caused such a scene before.”

“Don’t.”

“No, really, I am. I didn’t have any right to say the things I said.” But, try as she might, she couldn’t apologize for decking him. “I can’t begin to understand what it must have been like for you all these weeks. Trying to fit in and bide your time until Cal came back.”

“It wasn’t so hard. I had you.”

“Yes.” She lifted a hand to his cheek, let it fall away. “I’m glad you did. I want you to know that.”

“Sunny—”

“So when do you go?” Deliberately she moved out of reach. If he touched her, however gently, she might shatter.

“Tomorrow.”

She had to lock her knees to keep them from buckling. “So soon?”

“I thought it best, for everyone.”

She wondered that her smile didn’t crack her face. “I’m sure you’re right. But you’ll want to spend a little more time with Cal. You’ve come a long way.”

“I’ll talk to him in the morning. And to Libby,” he added. “I want to set things right with her.”

Now the smile came more easily. “They’re good for each other. You see that, don’t you?”

“I’d have to be blind not to.”

“Science and logic aside, sometimes emotions are the most accurate equations.” Feeling stronger, she held out her hand. “I’d like to stay the night, here with you.”

He brought her close, struggling not to crush her against him. “I’ll come back.” When she shook her head, he pulled her away. The passion was in his eyes again, and the anger. “I will. I swear it. I need a little more time, to test. I managed to work it out this far in only two years. With another two, I can make it smoother, until it’s as basic as a shuttle to Mars.”

“A shuttle to Mars,” she repeated.

“Just trust me,” he told her, drawing her back. “When I work it all out we’ll have more time together.”

“More time,” she murmured, and shut her eyes.