Chapter 24
My hands, happy now that I’m not thinking of spilling all my secrets, shake less but don’t stay completely still.
I put them in my lap so no one else can see how much the answer means to me.
Leo sets his hand on my clasped ones under the table, which does make them stop moving.
Because I don’t want to do anything that would throw his hand off.
“Oh, you’re here to ask me? I thought you had some information for me,” Andrew says, shoulders slumped in disappointment that we aren’t here to give him the secret to time travel.
“Oh. No.” Except that I kind of did it, but I have no idea how. “We want to know if it’s possible.”
“You know, I almost never get asked about that with a straight face. Well, in my spare time I am studying if the physics would allow such a thing to occur. Taking into account Maxwell’s theory of light, and the…”
My eyes glaze over and my mind starts to wander despite this being potentially important information; I’m a historian and not a mathematician for a reason. But I smile and nod along like I understand what he’s saying. I give him five minutes before I can’t hear any more words that confuse me.
“This is all so fascinating,” I say, interrupting him saying something about geometries of spacetime and the speed of light. “But we’re mostly wondering about how this could happen. What the mechanism of time travel would be, if it was possible?”
Andrew shrugs. “I have never thought of it outside a theoretical possibility; I have only worked on the equations and the science. I am not to the point where I have thought about designs for a machine.”
“But if you had to speculate.” There’s a desperation in my voice even I can hear.
“The machinery required would be quite advanced. Something with a large motor, if beating light is the key.”
I jump in before he can start going on about the science again. “Fascinating. What about it being done without a machine?” I lean in closer.
Andrew leans back and gives me thirty seconds of consideration. Then he starts laughing at me. I give him a minute to let him get it out of his system, but he doesn’t stop.
“All right, it’s a fair question.” Since I did time travel without a machine, I feel like the disbelief is unnecessary.
Even if he doesn’t know that, and maybe I won’t be sharing if this is going to be his response.
I would think that he would be more open to new ideas, considering he probably gets made fun of for studying time travel. “Can it be done?”
He shakes his head, still grinning. “No. You would need some sort of machine to facilitate the process. Otherwise, it is not physics; it is magic. Which does not exist.”
Well, a puppy’s unconditional love is magical, but I guess this guy is a science Scrooge.
I suppress the urge to throw my mushy peas at him. A difficult task since I don’t want the mushy peas in the first place, and I can’t think of a better way to get rid of them. But Leo might be able to read my mind, because he tightens his hand around mine as my thoughts get more violent.
I take some deep breaths and work on relaxing. “Have you heard any rumors of sudden time travel, maybe after some sort of unconscious experience?” He is still the person most likely to come across those stories, even if he doesn’t believe them.
Andrew scoffs at me. But at least his laughter has died down. “No. That is the opposite of science.”
“There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.” I happily rip off Shakespeare.
Andrew looks at me like I’m a danger to him. Good. I could be a danger to him if I keep getting his condescending attitude. “It is not possible.”
“Is there anyone else studying this? Maybe not from a physics perspective?”
“I would not know. And I have to get back to my classes. If that is all…” Andrew gets up.
“Thank you for your time.” I slump back in my booth seat.
The hum of the busy pub at lunchtime fades away as I think about what this means for me. Even the feel of Leo’s hands on mine loses its intensity as today sinks in.
I won’t be seeing my family any time soon.
I won’t have a first day of class where all I do is go over the syllabus and try to entice my students’ attention with the wildest parts of the course like I’m making a “This season on…” reel for a Real Housewives franchise.
I won’t get the relief of getting the last paper graded for the year.
Or the excitement of getting an article accepted for publication, or seeing a student discover their love of history.
I’ll never waste time scrolling through my streaming services to find something to watch, spending so much time on the task it’s already bedtime when I finally find something.
I won’t ever Google something again!
I start breathing heavily, my heartbeat doing a tap dance against the back of my sternum as pressure builds in that cavity. Is this a heart attack?
Then Leo’s hands are on my arms, rubbing up and down slowly like he can make my body’s responses slow through the power of touch.
As intriguing as I usually find him, this is too much for even him to distract me from.
“Shall we get some air?” He tugs me up before I can answer, which is great because I don’t have the capacity to respond.
I suck in deep breaths of the cool air when we leave the building. It helps a little. Enough so I can breathe again. Leo resumes his calming arm rubs tentatively, not knowing what reception he’s going to get.
“I don’t know what else to do. The only remaining path I have is to throw myself down every stairway I see in an attempt to recreate the original conditions of my time travel.”
Leo winces with me at that thought. Yeah, it’s not optimal. “There must be other options that do not involve quite so much bodily harm. And risk of long-lasting damage.”
“There aren’t,” I yell in frustration, jerking away from his too-comforting arms. I don’t want to be comforted right now.
I want to be angry at the universe or the god of time-traveling that did this to me.
I want to rage at the unfairness of me missing home and not even being able to be with the only person I connect with in this time.
We stand in silence for a bit and I think he understands that I need to stew in my feelings while still grasping in big gulps of the chilly air.
“We will get through this. You have people here who care about your wellbeing,” he finally says.
“It’s not the same,” I whisper, most of the anger draining from me now.
Leaving a giant, all-encompassing sadness.
“You’ve all been very kind. But at the end of the day, you have your own lives to worry about.
Eventually Victoria will know I’m lying to her.
Soon, likely. Whenever the letter from Cooch Behar comes in.
And I’ll have to find out how to survive here.
For real. Not this fantasy where I’m an Indian royal.
And all of that is if I’m not arrested before I can flee. ”
Ugh. Jails in this time are not things I want to research firsthand. The mansions and museums are one thing. But the jails, with overcrowding, rampant disease and unhygienic conditions, unchecked corruption and lack of fresh air and light, I would rather pass on.
“Maybe you can start throwing me down any staircase you see. If I wimp out at the last minute,” I say.
“No. I will not do that. And I cannot promise what will happen in a few weeks’ time; I cannot even promise what will happen tomorrow.
But we are in this together, and I will not abandon you.
Not just because I have come to care for you.
But, as you so enjoy pointing out, we have a deal.
And all that work building both of our reputations will be for nothing if your secret is exposed.
So, I will continue to protect you to the best of my ability until you are settled and happy. ”
He’s so much more than I thought he was.
He’s kind, and considerate, and despite the fact that he loves having fun, he is not taking the easy way out right now.
Because it would hurt me. What am I supposed to do with that?
I already have too many feelings toward him that I shouldn’t, and this isn’t helping.
“You shouldn’t,” I say morosely. “You should cut and run now. Maybe be the person to tell everyone I’m a liar. Then you can save yourself. One of us should be safe. Just please let me know when you’re going to do it so I can flee.”
Leo shakes his head at me sharply. “I am a gentleman.”
I can’t help it; I laugh at that. Gentleman is a loaded term in the time when it applies to rich men with famous names behaving badly but everything is excused because of their titles.
“That is not quite the reaction I was hoping for, if I’m being truthful.”
I wave my arms in front of me. “No. It’s not about you. I know you’ll help me; you’re a good person. But you can’t pretend the word gentleman has much meaning right now. They all have mistresses.” Wait a minute. “Do you have a mistress?” I’m like a goldfish with my attention span right now.
I don’t know how I feel about that idea.
He’s not married yet. Not even engaged, so it would just be a sexual partner.
And in a lot of these marriages, both parties have their own…
interests. Especially after a few kids. So he’s within his rights to do what he wants with any consenting adult. And I certainly have no say either way.
“No.” The answer is immediate. Sure. Well, that’s good. “I cannot afford one.”
My spirits drop. He just had to keep talking.
“But I suppose I can see your point, regarding gentlemen,” Leo says.
“I don’t want to be the reason you’re harmed.”
“You are not the cause of my problems; my irresponsible father was. And perhaps some of my own poor decisions, before I realized. You are helping me, in ways you don’t even know.”
I rub my hands over my face. “It’s a mess.”