Chapter 4
Chapter Four
Iwake up the next morning with a weird feeling in my chest. The sound of Oliver rummaging around my kitchen stirs something strange within me.
He’s apparently found my record player and started a Christmas album which brings me an overwhelming feeling of nostalgia.
It reminds me of the times my mom and I would decorate my childhood home for the holidays.
I haven’t had anyone other than family in this space. It’s been my haven for almost four years now. Not a single boyfriend has been inside my home because I tend to be fiercely protective of it.
It’s weird opening my space up to Oliver, and even weirder that I don’t feel like he’s an unwelcome presence.
I pull myself from bed and run through my morning routine quickly. I’m dressed and ready to go a minute before I hear a knock on my door.
“Beck?” The sound of his voice sends a pleasant chill through my body. I’m not sure what that means, and I’m not ready to dissect that yet.
“Yeah?” I call out as I walk to the door and open it. Oliver is standing there, leaning against the wall in the same outfit as last night. It’s not as though he’s got anything else to wear, which could absolutely pose a problem later.
He stares at me, his eyes lingering. A sudden feeling of self-consciousness overwhelms me and I wrap my arms across my chest. The low-cut cream sweater and jeans I chose to wear feel suffocating, and I want to turn away from him.
As if picking up on my mood, he straightens, a mischievous grin taking over his face. “Would you come out here for a second?”
“Uh—yeah. I’ll be there in a second.”
He nods, and when he turns to leave, I grab my jacket and boots then walk out to my living room. Immediately I stop in my tracks at the sight of my apartment.
“Holy crap, what did you do?”
Oliver’s grin falters for a second, but then he opens his arms and spins around. “I couldn’t sleep and you had this box of Christmas decorations in that closet collecting dust. It’s the holiday season, Beck. This place needed a little life added back into it.”
My eyes water as I look around the space.
My small apartment is decorated from floor to ceiling with the Christmas trinkets and garlands that my mom gifted me before she passed.
I hadn’t opened that box in years because I was afraid of what I’d find.
But this…this is perfect. My eyes catch on the tiny fake tree in the corner before swinging to the table that’s set for two.
He made breakfast. He cooked, and he decorated my space for the holidays. I’ve been so stressed with school that even my home has been miserable. Oh God. Here come the tears.
He made breakfast. He cooked and he decorated my space for the holidays. I’ve been so stressed with school that even my home has been miserable. Oh God. Here come the tears.
“Oh applesauce. Are you mad?” Oliver walks to me, placing his hands on my shoulders. “It was meant to be a thank you for offering to help me, but I can take it all down.”
I shake my head and sniffle, wiping my face with my sleeve. “No,” I say through tears. “This was the nicest thing anyone has done for me. You put up the tree my mom got me and I just miss her, that’s all.”
Oliver pulls me into his chest, and at first I tense. Then my body relaxes into him, his hands rubbing soft circles across my back. I don’t know this man, and yet I feel so safe and comfortable around him. This doesn’t make sense. How can he so easily burst through my carefully curated walls?
“Here, come.” He guides me to the table and pulls out the chair before easing me into it.
The plate he slides in front of me is filled with eggs, toast and various berries.
It’s simple, but the gesture matters more than the food.
I would’ve starved until lunch. “It took me nearly an hour to figure out your stove. Modern technology is truly phenomenal.”
“If you go back to your time, don’t tell anyone we have vehicles that drive themselves. No one will believe you.”
Oliver stops mid bite to gape at me. I snort, taking a bite of my toast. “Truly? There are cars that drive themselves? I must see this.”
I nod. “They drive around campus sometimes as a taxi service. You might see one when we go today.”
“Amazing,” he says, staring down at his food. “I was just thinking. I haven’t ever heard the name Beck used very often. It’s quite fitting for you though, I think.”
My brows scrunch together. “It’s just a nickname,” I clarify. “My full name is Rebecca, but it feels too formal for me.”
“Rebecca,” he says, like he’s playing with the letters and syllables. “No, you’re right. I think Beck suits you quite well.” He grins, and my chest squeezes.
I clear my throat. “Anyway, are you ready to head to the archives?”
His eyes flash with something, and then it’s gone. “I am.”
I ignore it and peddle on. “First, we need to find something less formal for you to wear. You look like you don’t belong.” I wave my fork at him, and he gasps.
“What do you mean? People don’t dress in formal attire to attend university anymore? What a shame it is to live in the twenty-first century. The fashion has truly declined in quality.”
“Hey!” I scold. “Our fashion is not so bad.”
When he doesn’t respond, I shake my head and stand from the table. “I’m taking you shopping. Come on now. Time waits for no one.” I walk toward the hallway, grabbing my bag and keys.
In a few strides he’s by my side, taking my bag from me and holding the door open for me. “Ladies first.”
I hide my blush as I turn to lock the door behind us then lead us to my car.
We sit in silence as we drive to the mall. Oliver stares out the window the entire time, taking in every new thing with fond curiosity. I was worried that walking into the mall would be overwhelming for him, but he is surprisingly calm.
We’re able to leave the mall with a handful of outfits and no incidents advertising Oliver as being an outsider to this world. I’d thought we were safe until we stop for coffee on campus.
“The lady never pays for her own coffee,” he says, handing the barista a handful of gold coins.
She stares at them for several moments and then laughs, causing Oliver to frown.
Waving my hand, I join in. “You’re so funny, babe.” I tap my phone against the card reader, hearing the ping before pulling away.
She hands the coins back, and he looks at me as we walk away. “What’s wrong with my coins? And what was that thing you did back there with your mobile phone?”
I guide us away from people before answering. “Those gold coins have been out of production for decades. We use digital money more these days.” I pull out my phone to show him. “I have my card linked to my phone and I can use that to pay.”
He looks disgusted. “Is there no value in physical money anymore?”
I laugh, touching his arm. He chose navy blue slacks paired with a white pinstripe button-up and a light blue sweater over. He still looks too formal and, honestly, like a professor more than a student, but, hey. I’ll take what I can get.
“It’s just easier not to carry dollar bills and coins around, I guess.”
He shakes his head, looking down at me. “That’s baloney.”
I stare at him for a moment, seeing his eyes flicker across my face.
There’s something special about Oliver. I’m not one to be flippant with my feelings, but every time I’m near him I can’t help the flutter in my chest. I don’t know what is happening between us, and I can’t help but wonder if he’s feeling it too.
They call our names, and we grab our coffees, starting the short walk toward the library.
“Let me check in at the front desk. Walk ahead of me and I’ll sneak you in with me.”
He follows my directions, walking ahead of me and staying along the outer wall of the library. My eyes track him as I walk to the librarian’s desk, my blood chilling as I see the same librarian that warned me to be careful while looking into the Bishops.
“Hello again,” she says, her eyes looking past me with a strange knowing. “What can I do for you?”
I cross my arms across my chest. “I just wanted to check into the archives. I’m still researching for that project about the Bishops.”
“Ah.” She nods, then hands me a clipboard. I write my name and time in the spaces, and when I look up again she’s still watching me with that eerie awareness from before.
“Thank you,” I say, turning away from her.
“Some doors don’t open unless you know where to look. The Bishop women always knew how to hide things in plain sight,” she murmurs, her voice low.
I frown. “Uh, thanks.” I rush away, walking toward the archives door.
I’m ten steps from the door when I hear my name.
“Beck!”
When I turn, I see Leo Anderson walking toward me.
“Oh, hi,” I say, turning my body away from Oliver.
“Fancy seeing you here,” he says.
“Uh, yeah.” I laugh. “I practically live here.”
“Is that so? I’m surprised I haven’t seen you sooner.” He reaches out a hand to touch me the same moment I feel a presence at my back.
Leo’s eyes widen for a split second before he relaxes, withdrawing his hand.
“Here’s your coffee, Dollface.” Oliver reaches an arm around me, his chest pressing against my back. I shiver involuntarily.
“Dollface? " I didn’t know people still used that.” Leo snickers then pales, I’m assuming at whatever face Oliver just made.
“What can I say? I’m timeless.” His fingers slip under the strap of my bookbag, sliding it from my shoulder and into his waiting hands. “Let’s get going. We’ve got things to do, mysteries to solve and all that.” He winks, turning away from us.
“See you later, Leo,” I say, following Oliver.
I should be mad. Furious even. This man I don’t know just staked some claim over me so publicly when he doesn’t even have a right to. But the only thing I feel is warmth. What is Oliver doing to me?
Don’t get attached. He’s not yours, Beck, my mind reminds me. He’s not even from this time. One day he’ll have to go back to his own time and you’ll be all alone. Again. Just like you like it.
“Who was that?” He asks, breaking my train of thought.
I scowl. “Nobody. You didn’t have to do all that, you know.”
He shrugs. “Yes, I did.” He doesn’t say anything more, just walks ahead of me, leaving me to stew. What the heck does he mean by that? I shake my head.
Don’t read into it, Beck.
So I don’t.
Leaning over the desk, I bring the Bishop ledger under the lamplight illuminating the words. With two of us, we were able to search the archives, finding four other Bishop ledgers. There has to be more out there somewhere. I’m not sure what I’m looking for and it’s frustrating me.
Taking a sip of my coffee, I look across the entries again, hoping to find some sort of inconsistencies or clues.
The chair creaks as Oliver leans back, kicking his legs up onto the desk. He’s got his hand tucked at his side, fingers opening and closing a golden pocket watch.
“You fiddle with that thing constantly,” I say, nodding at the watch.
His thumb brushes across the top then snaps it closed again. “Habit.”
“Or superstition?” I tease.
“Maybe both,” he admits. For the first time, the smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Time feels different here. Like I’m already running behind. It makes me feel almost hopeless reading through all of this knowing they’re entries from a century ago.”
My throat tightens as I process his words. I understand what he means. It’s gotta be confusing jumping from being there to a different time entirely. “I have to believe there’s a reason for everything. I don’t know why you’re here, but I promise we’ll figure it out.”
He presses his lips together. I start to reassure him more when Oliver’s eyes narrow, his eyebrows shrugging together. “Beck, look.” He leans forward, pointing at the open ledger. “This here.”
I squint at the faded pages, trying to make sense of the words. It’s all numbers at first, but as I tilt the ledger into the light, I see letters, faint and deliberate, curling into a line of text.
A large income is the best recipe for happiness I ever heard of. Best is gently scratched out, the word worst written below it.
Oliver’s breath catches. “That has to be Eleanor.”
I read the text over a few times. “I think that’s a Jane Austen quote.”
Oliver’s expression shifts into one of awe. “She would leave clues as quotes.” He runs his hand over his chin. “But what does it mean?”
Biting my lip, I pace around the space, thinking. “Okay, you said the numbers weren’t adding up in the original ledgers. She intentionally crossed out best and replaced it with worst. That’s got to mean something. What if she’s pointing at large sums of money?”
“Brilliant,” he says, flipping through the pages.
Rushing to the desk, I look through every page, searching the margins for more quotes. In an hour, we both find three more quotes. None of them proved to have much significance at all. I’ve all but given up on the search when I see another.
Time will Explain. At first it seems simple, but as I trace the letters, I notice a blotch of ink to the left. “Oliver,” I say, waving at him. “Do you have the ledger that covers the December entries? There’s a date circled by this quote. That has to be intentional.”
Oliver nods at me, looking through the stack of ledgers then slapping one open on the desk. “What’s the date?” he asks.
“December fifteenth.”
It’s silent for a moment as he flips through the pages, but then I hear his gasp. Oliver picks at two pages, gently pulling them apart. I shoot up from my chair and rush to his side.
Between the two crushed pages, he pulls out a folded piece of paper, holding it between two fingers. He shakes his head in disbelief. “We didn’t see it before because the pages were glued together.”
My heart beats erratically in my chest. Whatever this is, it might be bigger than the two of us.
Eleanor has gone to great lengths to keep whatever information she found private.
I’m starting to worry that something more nefarious was happening behind closed doors.
Why else would she need to work so hard to ensure her father—or someone more dangerous—wouldn’t find this note?
The archive door creaks and a strange feeling creeps up my spine. “Put the ledgers in my bag,” I hiss at Oliver. “We need to go.”