Nora Roberts - Times Change

“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.