Nora Roberts - Times Change

“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.