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.”