Times Change

Chapter 12

She left before he awakened. It seemed the best way. She hadn’t slept at all. She had lain awake during the night trying to find the best way.

He had put music on, something dreamy and beautiful by a composer she hadn’t heard of. Because he had yet to be born. He had adjusted the lights so that the cabin had been washed with simulated moonbeams.

To add romance. She understood that now, loved him for it. He had wanted to give her everything it was possible for him to give her on that last night. And he had given her everything but what she wanted most. A future.

It occurred to her as she thought over the twist her life had taken that up until this point all her decisions had been black-and-white. A choice was either right or wrong. But this time, this most important time, there were dozens of shades in between.

She drove back to the cabin slowly. How could she have said goodbye again? Some pains could not be endured a second time. Sunny could only hope he would understand what she was doing. She hoped she understood it.

She parked in back of the cabin and sat for a little while, studying the way the glaze of ice on the tree limbs glittered in the morning sun. Listening to the sound, the sound of almost perfect silence. Tasting the hint of coming snow in the air.

Slowly, fighting back the grief, she walked to the cabin and entered the kitchen quietly.

Libby had left a light in the window. The sight of the old kerosene lamp burning dully in the morning light brought the hateful tears to her eyes again. She swallowed them, then sat at the table to run her fingers over the wood as Jacob had only weeks before.

“You’re up early.”

Sunny lifted her eyes and met her sister’s. “Hi.” Her lips curved. “Mom.”

Instinctively Libby laid a hand on her stomach. “Jacob told you. I wanted to.”

“Great news is great news whatever the source.” She rose to gather her sister close. There was joy here, and she clung to it. “No morning sickness?”

“No. I’ve never felt better.”

“Cal better be spoiling you.”

“Rotten.” Libby drew back to brush at Sunny’s fringe of bangs. Her sister’s eyes were shadowed and sad. “How are you?”

“I’m okay.” Because her legs felt unsteady again, she turned back to sit at the table. “I’m sorry I ran out the way I did.”

“That doesn’t matter.” Libby was dressed in a baggy sweater and cords, her favored outfit for the mountains. Studying her, Sunny thought her sister had never been, more beautiful. She wondered if she would ever carry a child, feel that love growing inside her.

“I flattened him.”

“Good,” Libby said, with a nod of approval. Movements automatic, she filled the teakettle with water, then set it on the burner. “Want some breakfast?”

“Later, maybe.”

“Sunny, I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Sunny reached behind her to close a hand over the one Libby had laid on her shoulder. “Really, it’s all right.”

“You really love him.”

“Yes, I love him.”

Wishing she could find a way to grant her sister the happiness she felt herself, Libby rested a cheek on Sunny’s hair. “Cal says J.T.’s planning to do some more work on the equations for the time travel. To hone it down, to make it safer, and more practical, if that word can apply.”

“Yes, he told me.”

“He’s brilliant, Sunny. Really brilliant. It’s not just Cal’s bragging. I read the rest of his file. And the fact that he was able to make this trip after only two years of work is proof of it. Once he finishes his testing, he’ll come back.”

“I hope he can.” She closed her eyes. “I really hope he can.” Then, with a laugh, she buried her face in her hands. “Listen to us. We’re here talking about all of this as if it were the most natural thing in the world. I must still be in shock.”

“After more than a year, I still wake up some mornings wondering if I imagined it all.”

“But you have Cal,” Sunny murmured, letting her hands fall into her lap. “He’s right there to prove it’s real.”

“Sunny, if I—” She broke off when Cal walked into the room. She lifted her shoulders, let them fall. “Is there anything I can do?”

“No. I’m handling it, I promise you that.”

“I’m going to get some fresh air,” Libby announced. “Cal, take care of the tea, will you?”

A look passed between them. “Sure.”

Sunny knew them both well enough to understand that they’d planned this little bit of business so that Cal could speak to her alone.

“What do you want?” he asked when Libby had shut the door behind her. “Froot Loops or burnt toast?”

“J.T. fixed the toaster.”

“Oh yeah?” He gave it a casual glance. “He’s always liked to fiddle with things.” The kettle began to boil, giving him another moment to think through what he wanted to say. “Sunny . . . I think we’ll get snow before nightfall.”

“Cal, why don’t you relax? As tempting as it was, I didn’t murder him.”

“I wasn’t worried about that.” He poured hot water into two cups. “Not too much, anyway. It’s more a matter of wanting to explain.”

“That your brother’s a jerk? I know that.”

“He’s also sensitive.”

She could still be amused. That was a relief. “Are we talking about the same man? Hornblower, Jacob? Astrophysicist? The one with the bull head and the nasty temper?”

An apt description, he thought. “Yeah. I don’t mean like he cries at vid—movies,” he remembered. “Or that he takes it to heart when you call him names. He’s sensitive where other people are concerned. Family.” Not certain he was handling the situation correctly, he brought the tea to the table. “Half the time when he’d get into fights it was because someone had said something about me. It used to annoy me, because I wanted to take care of it myself, but he’d always plow right in before I had the chance. And my parents . . . I can’t think of a single time he’d forget a birthday or Mother’s Day.”

“They still have Mother’s Day?”

“Sure.”

“Cal.” Absently she stirred sugar into her tea. “How did you decide to stay?”

“I didn’t decide,” he told her. “What I mean is, I don’t think decide is the word. It implies choice. I couldn’t leave Libby. I tried. But I’ve never stopped thinking about my family.”

“Whether you consider you had a choice or not, it had to be difficult.”

“For me it was pretty cut-and-dried. I couldn’t even be sure if I’d make it back. I sent the ship and the reports because if there was a chance I could let them know I was alive, safe, I had to.” He laid a hand over hers. “With J.T., it’s different. He knows he can make it back, and if he didn’t go he’d be leaving them without hope. He couldn’t do that.”

“No, he couldn’t do that.” She lifted her head. “It’s been hard for you.”

“This has been the best year of my life.”

“But the adjustments, the separation . . .”

“If I’d been tossed back another five hundred years it wouldn’t have mattered. As long as I’d found Libby.”

“She’s lucky to have you.”

“I like to think so.” He grinned, then sobered. “He loves you, Sunny.”

Something flickered in her eyes before she lowered them. “Did he tell you that?”

“Yes, but he didn’t have to. I saw it the first time he said your name. I guess what I wanted to tell you was that he’s never felt about anyone the way he feels about you.”

“Will you help me, Cal? I left before he woke up.” She pressed her lips together to keep them from trembling. “I can’t say goodbye.”

***

Libby stood by the stream watching the water fight its way around the ice. In her mind she saw it as it had been in the spring, when the water had gurgled lazily over the rocks and the song of birds had been everywhere. The grass had been soft and green.

It was there that she and Cal had buried the time capsule. And there they had made love, while her heart had broken at the picture of him unearthing it again in some springtime hundreds of years ahead.

Instead, he had stayed, and it was his brother who had taken out the box they had placed there. Now it was her sister’s heart that was breaking.

Whatever comfort she offered Sunny wouldn’t be enough.

It seemed wrong that she should have everything while Sunny lost. She had Cal, and the home they loved, the life they were building. She had the child. With a soft smile, she pressed a hand to her stomach. The child who would come at summer’s end and bind them even closer together.

Sunny would have only memories, and there was nothing Libby could do about it.

She turned her head slightly and saw Jacob.

He was only a few feet away. She hadn’t heard his approach in the muffling snow. In the shadows cast by the trees she saw how much he resembled Cal. The same build, the same coloring, the same sharp facial bones. There was a measuring look in his eyes that made her wonder how long he had been standing and watching her in silence.

She didn’t approach him. Though he posed no threat to her—and she admitted that she had been foolish and overemotional ever to believe he could—he had taken her sister’s heart. And broken it.

“Cal’s inside.” Her voice was cool and clipped. She made no attempt to be friendly.

She showed her anger differently from Sunny, he mused. Sunny exploded with hers, went straight on the attack. Apparently Libby let hers bubble and brew inside. He wondered if she realized it was just as volatile.

“I wanted to talk to you.”

She had never enjoyed confrontations, but she braced for this one. “There’s nothing you can say to me that would make me influence Cal to leave with you. The choice is his, whether you believe it or not. Just as it was before.”

“I know.” He moved slowly across the snow until he stood beside her. “It isn’t something I thought I would understand or accept, but I do. Our parents will . . . It will mean a great deal to them when I tell them about you. About the child.”

“He misses them.” Her voice was thick as she battled the tide of emotion. “They should know that.”

“They will.”

“Why didn’t you tell her?” she demanded. “How could you have let her fall in love with you when you knew you were going to leave?”

His hands fisted as he plunged them into the pockets of his pea coat. “I spent two years working, inching my way here. For one reason. Only one. To find my brother and take him home.”

Her eyes smoldered at that. “You can’t have him.”

“No.” He nearly smiled. Perhaps she was more like Sunny than he had originally thought. “And I can’t have Sunny, either. I have to live with that. She isn’t the only one who fell in love. She isn’t the only one to lose.”

“But you knew what you were doing.”

Vibrating with frustration, he faced her. For the first time she saw that his eyes were haunted and miserable. “You thought Cal would leave. Did it stop you from loving him, or him from loving you?”

“No.” With a little sigh, she put a hand on his arm. “No, it didn’t.”

“She’s strong,” he said. His control had slipped a few notches when he’d heard the understanding in her voice. “She won’t allow herself to hurt for long. If I can’t come back . . .” The pain ripped through him, forcing him to take a slow, deep breath. “If I can’t come back, she’ll go on.”

“Do you really believe that?”

“I have to.” He dragged an unsteady hand through his hair. With the ache rippling through him, he told her what he hadn’t been able to tell Sunny. What he hadn’t wanted to face himself. “I haven’t perfected the procedure. This time I was months off. The next time, if there is one, I may be years off. She may have started a new life. I have to accept that.”

She smiled at him. “I study people. When you make it a profession, you learn more than tradition and social mores. You learn that real love, lasting love, is very rare. It should never be simply accepted, J.T. It should be cherished.”

He gazed across the white world he was just beginning to understand. “I’ll think of her every day for the rest of my life.”

“Have you never heard the word compromise?”

“I’m not very good at it. If I could find one, I’d learn to be good at it. I can only tell you that everything I do from the moment I get back will be geared toward finding a way to return here, within a day, within an hour, of the time I left.”

Moved, she leaned up and kissed his cheek. It surprised her when his arms came around her, held her. Without hesitating, she returned the embrace.

“Take care of them. Both of them.”

“I will.” She tightened her hold briefly, then smiled when she saw Cal walking toward them. Kissing Jacob again, she released him before she held out a hand for Cal’s. “Why don’t I go make some breakfast?”

“Thanks.” Cal’s fingers squeezed hers. “I love you.”

With a quick smile, she headed back to the cabin.

“Is Sunny inside?”

Cal turned back to his brother. “She came back early.” He put a hand on Jacob’s arm to restrain him. “J.T., she asked me to tell you that she wishes you a safe trip but she can’t say goodbye again.”

“The hell with that.”

“Jacob.” Cal shifted to block his brother’s path. “She needs to do it this way. Believe me, it won’t help her if you try to see her again.”

“Just cut it off clean?” Jacob pulled out of Cal’s hold. “As simple as that?”

“I didn’t say it was simple. There’s no one who knows better how you feel than I do. If you love her,” he continued, “let her have her way in this.”

Holding up his hands, Jacob whirled and strode a few paces off. Pain roiled inside him, pain edged with resentment. She wouldn’t even see him one last time. Already she was just a memory. Perhaps it was best, he told himself, best that he could believe she was already getting on with her life.

If he could do nothing else for her, he could honor this last request.

“All right. Tell her . . .” He trailed off, swearing. He would never be able to find the words for what he was feeling. Even if he’d had Cal’s knack for poetry, the phrases would have fallen short.

“She knows,” Cal told him. “Come on inside.”

***

In the afternoon they drove him to the ship. He wondered if Sunny was watching from a window as they disappeared into the forest. But when he looked back, searching, the sun was glaring on the glass and he could see nothing.

Cal talked constantly, trying to fill the void with chatter. Jacob saw that he reached for Libby’s hand, held it tight.

And he was denied even that, he thought. Even one last touch.

Cursing Sunny, he climbed out of the car. “I’ll tell Mom and Dad everything.”

Cal nodded. “Get back to the lab. I want to know that you’ll come back and bring them for a visit.”

“I’ll be back.” He embraced his brother.

“I love you, J.T.”

Letting out a long breath, he broke away to turn to Libby. “Tell your sister I’m going to find a way.”

“I’m counting on it.” Libby blinked back tears as she handed him an envelope. “She asked me to give this to you, but to make you promise you won’t open it until you get back to your own time.”

He reached out, but she pulled it back. “Your word. Cal tells me you take promises seriously.”

“I won’t open it until I’m gone.” He folded it carefully before slipping it in his pocket. He kissed her, one cheek, the other, then her mouth. “Keep well, sister.”

The first tear overflowed. “And you.” She turned her face into Cal’s shoulder as Jacob stepped through the hatch.

“He’ll be back, Libby.” He lifted a hand in farewell, then let it fall. Smiling, he pressed a kiss to her hair as she wept. “It’s only a matter of time.”

***

Inside, Jacob cleared his mind and went to work. The procedure for lift-off was basic, but he went through the routine as meticulously as a first-year pilot. He didn’t want to think. Couldn’t afford to.

He had known it would hurt, but he had never imagined this kind of dull, gnawing pain. It made his fingers stiff on the switches.

The lights hummed as he set the controls for ignition. Through the viewscreen he saw that Cal had moved Libby back out of harm’s way. For the last time he searched the forest for signs of Sunny. There was nothing. He threw the last switch.

The ship rose gently, almost silently. He knew he couldn’t afford to linger, but he kept the speed down until his brother was only a speck in the sea of white and green. With an oath, he jammed the throttle and shot through the atmosphere.

Space was soothing, the dark silence of it. He didn’t want to be soothed. It would be best if he held on to his anger, his frustration. His jaw set, he engaged his computer.

“Implement coordinates to sun.”

Coordinates implemented.

Seen through the viewscreen, the world was only a pretty colored ball.

Mechanically he navigated, compensating for a small shower of meteors. It was very simple, really, he thought. Now there was no traffic, commercial or private. No route patrol ships to communicate with. No checkpoints.

He hit the switch and bulleted into hyperspace. As before, his eyes narrowed, his muscles tensed, as he hurtled toward the sun. He watched dispassionately as the gauges registered the increase in outside temperature. With the viewscreen lowered, he flew blind, expertly but without the passion that had fueled him on his last voyage.

Working with the computer, he increased the speed, adjusted the angle. Meticulous and mechanical, his fingers moved over the command console. Though he was prepared, the g’s slammed him back in his chair. Holding course, he swore, filling the cockpit with his anger and his hopelessness.

Now, though his heart was thousands of miles below, there was no turning back.

Like a bullet from a gun, he shot through space and time and away from his heart.

He was breathless when the procedure was complete. A line of sweat rolled down his back. A glance at his gauges told him he had been successful.

Successful, he thought miserably, rubbing his hands over his eyes. Raising the viewscreen, he looked out on his own time.

It looked so similar, the stars, the planets, the inky darkness. There were more satellites, and in the distance he saw a blip of light he knew was a research lab. In less than thirty minutes he would join the traffic patterns. He would no longer be alone. Leaning back, he closed his eyes in quiet desperation.

She was gone.

Fate had brought him to her, then had torn him away. Fate, he thought, and his own intellect. He would use that intellect. If it took a lifetime, he would find a way to bring their lives together again.

Perhaps he would suffer over the months or years it took him to complete the necessary tests that would take him back, safely, close to the time of his lift-off. But he would get back, and he would calculate so minutely that she would barely realize he’d ever been gone.

Slowly he took the letter out of his pocket. It was all he had left of her. Some message, he thought. A few words of love and remembrance. It wouldn’t be enough, he thought furiously, and ripped it open.

There was only one word.

Surprise.

Baffled, he stared at it.

Surprise? he thought. Just surprise. What kind of last message was that? So damn typical of her, he decided, balling the paper up in his fist. Then, relenting, willing to settle for even as little as this, he smoothed it out again.

At a faint sound, he whirled in the chair.

She was standing at the doorway to the flight deck. She was deathly pale, and her eyes were glassy. But as he watched, dumbfounded, her lips moved into a smile.

“So, you got my message.”

“Sunny?” He whispered her name at first, wondering if he was hallucinating. It was only one of the potential side effects of time travel. He would have to remember to make a note of it.

But he could not only see her, hear her, he could smell her. He catapulted out of the chair to grab her close, to devour her mouth like a starving man.

Then it struck him. Terrified him.

“What are you doing here?” he demanded, shaking her. “What the hell have you done?”

“What had to be done.” When she swayed, he cursed her again.

“Yell at me later,” she said calmly. “I think I’m going to pass out.”

“No, you’re not.” Though he was infuriated, he lifted her as though she were fragile glass and carried her to a chair. Then he was all business.

“You’re light-headed?”

“Yes.” She put her hand on her temple. “It was a hell of a trip.”

“Nauseous?”

“Some.”

He pressed a round black button, and a small compartment opened. He pulled out a square box. From it he took a tiny, paper-thin pill. “Let this dissolve on your tongue. Idiot,” he said, even as she obeyed. “You aren’t prepped for traveling at warp speed.”

The relief was instant. She took a long breath, pleased that she wasn’t going to disgrace herself. Ignoring him for the moment, she turned to the viewscreen. The galaxy was spread out before her.

“Oh, my God.” The color that had come back into her cheeks fled again. “It’s incredible. Is that—is that Earth?”

“Yes.” His palms were damp. If his stomach didn’t settle, he’d have to resort to a pill himself. “Sunny, do you have any idea what you’ve done?”

“How fast are we going?”

“Damn it, Sunny.”

“Yes, I know what I’ve done.” She swiveled in the chair to rest her hands on his knees. Her eyes, when they met his, were dark and clear. “I’ve passed through time with you, Jacob.”

“You have to be out of your mind.” He wanted to shake her until her bones rattled. He wanted to hold her against him until they melted. “How could you have pulled off a ridiculous stunt like this?”

“Cal and Libby helped me.”

“They helped you? They knew you’d planned this?”

“Yes.” When she felt her hands begin to tremble, she sat back and folded them in her lap. She didn’t want him to know how frightened she was. “I decided last night.”

“You decided,” he repeated.

“That’s right.” Her chin lifted, and she gave him a long, level look. “I talked to Cal this morning, told him what I wanted to do.” Calmer now, she turned to the viewscreen again. There were lights in the sky. Stars. Instead of looking up at them, she looked out. As incredible as it was, she was hurtling through space with the only man she had ever loved. Would ever love.

Someone had to be sensible. Someone had to be calm. But he wasn’t sure it could be him. “Sunny, I don’t think you understand what you’ve done.”

“I understand perfectly.” She looked back at him. Yes, she was calm again, she realized. Calm, with her mind clear and her heart content. “Cal made a token protest—more for Libby’s sake than mine, really. But when I spoke with her she understood. She brought me to the ship herself this afternoon, when you were busy with Cal.”

“Your parents . . .”

“Would want me to be happy.” There was a pang, a deep one, when she thought of them. “Libby and Cal will explain everything to them.” Because she was sure her legs were steady again, she rose to walk around the flight deck. “I’m not saying they won’t be sad, or that they won’t miss me if it isn’t possible to go back. But I think my father—particularly my father—will get a tremendous charge when he thinks of where I am.” She laughed. “When I am.”

She turned back, still smiling. “Neither of us is good at compromising, J.T. With us, it’s all or nothing. That’s why we’ll get along so well.”

“I would have come back.” He covered his face with his hands, then dragged them back through his hair. “Damn it, Sunny, I told you I’d come back. A year, maybe two or three.”

“I didn’t want to wait that long.”

“You idiot, if I had managed to perfect it I’d have been back five minutes after I’d left, in your time.”

Her time. It struck him so hard, so deep, that he wasn’t sure he could speak. “You had no right to make a decision like this without discussing it with me.”

“It’s my decision.” Riled, she stalked back to him. “If you don’t want me, then I’ll just find some nice, appreciative companions. Maybe on Mars. I can take care of myself, pal. Just consider that I’ve hitched a ride.”

“It has nothing to do with what I want. It’s what’s best for you.”

“I know what’s best for me.” She rapped a fist on his chest. “I thought it was you, but I’ve made one or two mistakes before.” She spun away and took two steps before he grabbed her.

“Where are you going to go?” he demanded. “There’s still a few thousand kilometers before we hit breathable atmosphere.”

“It’s a big ship.”

“Sit down.”

“I don’t—”

“I said sit down.” He gave her a none-too-gentle shove that sent her sprawling into the chair. “And shut up. I have something to say to you.” When she braced her hands on the arms of the chair, he lifted a fist. “If you get up, I swear I’m going to belt you.”

Seething, she sat back. “That’s one term that appears to have survived the centuries.”

“If I’d known what you were planning I’d have used that term before. There were risks involved here that you have no conception of. If I’d made a mistake, a miscalculation, even the slightest—”

“But you didn’t.”

“That’s not the point.”

“What is the point, Hornblower?”

“You shouldn’t have done this.”

She let out an impatient breath. “Well, it’s no use belaboring that point, because I have done it. Why don’t we move on to the next step?”

He found he had to sit himself. “You may never be able to get back.”

“I know. I’ve accepted that.”

“If you change your mind—”

“Jacob.” Sighing, she rose, only to kneel beside him. “I can’t change my mind unless I change my heart. And that’s just not possible.”

He reached out to touch her hair. “I wouldn’t have asked this of you.”

“I know. And if I had asked to come with you you would have given me half a dozen very logical reasons why I couldn’t.” She turned her face into his palm. “And you’d have been wrong. What I couldn’t do is live without you.”

“Sunny.”

“Look at it this way. I’ve always felt that I was ahead of my time, kind of placed in the wrong era. Maybe I’ll do better in yours.”

“This was a stupid thing to do.” Then he pulled her up into his lap. “Thank God you did it.”

“Then you’re not mad?”

He showed her just how mad he was when his mouth took hers. “When you wouldn’t see me today, it was as if you’d cut out my heart. It didn’t matter, because I’d wanted to leave it with you.”

Tears rushed to her eyes, but she forced them back. She wanted only to smile at him. “That’s almost poetic.”

“Don’t get used to it.” Still holding her, he leaned forward to make some adjustments on the control panel.

“Can you teach me how to drive this?”

He slanted her a look. She was here, really here. And his. Forever. “I’m already terrified of the idea of you at the controls of a cruise rider.”

“I’m a quick study.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.” He drew her back until she was settled in the curve of his arm. “I’m not sure even my world’s ready for you.”

“But you are.”

He kissed her again, gently. “I’ve been ready all my life.”

With a sigh, she teased his mouth until the passion simmered. “I don’t suppose we could put this thing on automatic pilot or whatever.”

“Not at this point.”

“We did make it back, didn’t we?”

He inclined his head toward the screen. “We’ve got a little way to go yet.”

“No, I mean back. What year is it?”

He gestured toward the dials. “2254.”

The enormity of it made her giddy. His arms made her trust. “So that makes me . . . 287 years old.” She cocked a brow. “How do you feel about older women?”

“I’m crazy about them.”

“Remember that when I hit three hundred and things start to sag.” She kissed him lightly. “I plan to frustrate you, annoy you and generally make your life chaos for a long time.”

“I’m counting on it.”

Together they watched the blue-green sphere that was home draw closer.