Fall (Roam Series, Book Two) (13 page)

I listened to his pained words as he spoke. “Logan,” I cringed at an uncomfortable cramp. “You can’t be responsible for him for the rest of your life. You can’t leave your family behind.”

“You are,” he countered, turning to look at me. Though I was getting more used to his face, this intimate conversation was unsettling with what looked like a perfect stranger. “You can’t go back with a baby, Roam. You can’t just show up at home with an infant and explain it away like we did the numbers.”

I lowered my eyes to my blank arm; the moment Logan traveled, the numbers disappeared from my arm. “Why do you think your numbers stay? Yours are still for Ohio.”

“I don’t know.” He exhaled deeply, stretching his legs beneath the dash. “All I know is… this is coming to an end. All of this…. I can feel it.”

“A good end?” I asked hopefully, glancing toward the store.

“I don’t know.” His fingers curled over the back of his neck. “Violet won’t stop until she finds her mother. You know that.”

“She wants answers from Troy. I know that’s why she’s here.”

“How far do you think she’d go to get those answers?” Logan turned to look at me.

I stared at him blankly. “What do you mean?”

He lowered his voice, watching the window. “West loves you. He’d never betray you. I love you,” his eyes met mine. “Violet only wants to find her mother.”

Shaking my head, I glanced at the store. “She wouldn’t do that. West is her father.”

“Something tells me she hasn’t adjusted to that information yet.”

I leaned back in the seat, resting my hands on my massive belly. Logan stared at my fingers as they made small circles. “Please don’t tell West this… but I’m terrified of giving birth. I was… at home, in 2012… but this is 1955. Logan, women were tortured during labor… strapped down, unable to move…,” my chin began to tremble, a characteristic I was unfamiliar with in my own body.

“I won’t let that happen to you.”

“
It wasn’t that long ago, but so barbaric… I need more information, I need to prepare myself,” I wavered, tears dripping down my cheeks. Logan moved to the back of the bus, pulling me into his arms.

“Knock it off. If he comes out here and sees you sobbing, I lose man points.” He pulled my head to his shoulder, plaiting my hair with his fingers.

“It’s so much… and is it wrong that I feel sick every time he snaps Troy’s neck? Even though he’s a murderer? And to chop off his… his arm,” I broke into sobs, no longer able to articulate words without gasping.

He held me, silent for long minutes. Finally, he took a deep breath. “I’ve talked to veterans who were… over there. They talk about… guilt. And stress. They do what they’re told; that’s the commitment that they make to
each other. Act now, feel later.” He gripped me tightly to his chest. “But when you think about it… we’re just kids, Roam. We don’t know anything. What’s that philosopher guy you like say about it? All we know is our ignorance.”

“Socrates.”
I sniffed, smirking. “Glad to hear you pay attention when I talk to you.”

He offered me a light smile.
“Troy and West have been fighting this war for centuries. We’ve been kids for eighteen years.”

I closed my eyes, exhaustion taking over. “
I’m afraid to die.
”

“Most of us are.”

The van door slid open at that moment, Violet and West returning with several bags. “Okay, I didn’t have much to work with, but… why are you crying?” Violet set two bags at my feet.

“What happened?” West demanded, glaring at Logan.

“Dude, calm down. She’s just tired and scared. Let her sleep.”

“I need to change first,” I managed, rummaging through the bags at my feet. I couldn’t bear to sit another minute in the too tight, bloodied clothing.
“Cover me, please,” I asked Violet.

“Okay,” her eyes, the same blue as West’s, were filled with something new.
Compassion
.

I changed
into a long-sleeved cotton chemise, cherry red with a scooped neck and wide lapel. A tie meant for a bow fit right under my breasts, and the skirt fell softly over my stomach. My breasts were twice as big (but not nearly as large as in 1977) and I opted to pull the tie around to the back.

West passed jeans to Logan, and only then did I realize that his jeans from 2012 were unbuttoned, barely fitting over
Logan’s muscled waist. His shirt, also stretched, was replaced with a basic, brown and white button down bowling shirt.

I watched West pull
off his coat; his own white polo was splattered with blood. He peeled it over his shoulders and pulled another white shirt from the shopping bag. His muscles, taut as he stretched into the polo, caught me off-guard.
Had I really forgotten how incredibly handsome he is?

“
We’ll eat in an hour. Roam, can you wait that long?”

He lifted his eyes and caught me staring at him. “I- yes, that’s fine.”

His face softened, and he reached for me. “Come here, baby. Logan will drive for a while- can you drive a manual?”

“Yes.”

“Violet, you take shotgun.”

“
Wish I had a shotgun,” she muttered, climbing into the passenger’s seat. Logan caught the keys as West tossed them to him.

“What would you do with a shotgun?” He
drawled sarcastically, giving her a once-over. “They don’t work the same as an eye pencil.”

“Eye pencil, huh? You seem to know an awful lot about make-up.”

“Flirt quietly, please,” West called, tucking me into his arms after checking on Troy.

Violet stiffened, and Logan shot
him an irritated look.

“
I missed you,” I whispered against the rough, new fabric of his shirt. He pulled his coat over me, pressing his lips to mine. Logan pulled out of the parking lot, carefully checking for oncoming traffic.

“God, I missed you,” he answered, the sentiment clear in the way he cradled me in his arms. “Sleep. You’re safe.”

I closed my eyes, believing him.

Disoriented, I woke
three hours later. I first focused on West, his arms still around me. Sitting up, I closed my eyes and pressed my lips to his. He couldn’t have been sound asleep; he responded immediately to my kiss, his mouth replying to my invitation. I exhaled softly, clear thoughts becoming warm summer breezes. My heartbeat, tumultuous, paced with his diving kiss as his lips urged mine apart. Breathless, I sought air has his hands held my face, sliding around my neck.

“
Aw Jesus.” Violet’s disgusted voice had me sitting up modestly. Her knees were bent against the dashboard, and she massaged the bridge of her nose with irritation. “We’re almost there. Could you maybe wait?”

“I’m sorry,”
I said softly, embarrassed.

“So this island… is an island? We have to take a boat?”

West sat up at Logan’s curt words, focused on the windshield. “Yes. There is no road- yet. Ferry service won’t be available for another five years.”

“How are we going to get a boat?” Violet pulled her hair off her neck, fanning her skin with her hand. “
It’s, like, fifty degrees outside. In December. It’s about a hundred in here.”

“
I have a boat- it was the way we’d travel to the mainland. We have to wait until tonight, though.” West stretched his long legs out, glancing back at Troy. “I have to take care of him again. Roam,” his voice was coarse, affected by our kisses. “Close your eyes.”

I did; in minutes Logan was pulling into another
Shell gas station. “We need cash, and food,” he turned the wheel of the van, easing up to a pump. I swayed as the tires ran over the bell hose. A teen-aged boy hurried out to greet us, eager to get the gasoline pumping so he could wash the windows.

Violet had fiddled with the dial on the radio to finally get a clear station, and smooth, baritone voices crooned about coins in a fountain. I stared at the numbers on the radio
display, deciding they looked very much like the coordinates that were- once- on my arm.

“
Need a map?” The boy asked, his red, freckled face creating a postcard-worthy picture of the mid 1950’s.

“Restroom
?” West responded, shaking his head. The boy began checking the fluids in the van, nodding.

“
Of course, sir, right in the back.” The boy watched me climb awkwardly from the van.

I walked with West, who stood outside the door the entire time.
Shuffling into the small space, I closed the door before recoiling at the grimy knob. The floors screamed for a mop, and the thin soles of my boots threatened to leak if I walked into any one of the standing puddles of yellowed water.
I hope that’s water.

“Okay in there?” West’s voice through the door.

“I’m fine,” I replied, hurrying to finish. When I emerged from the restroom, West stepped back for second before taking my hand. “What?”

“Still not completely awake, I guess. I’m getting used to your body,” he said from under his breath, tilting his head slightly at the owner as we passed through the tiny store. I looked around, finding no amenities- travel-packs of medication, candy, and bottled beverages were missing.
I thought about our drive so far; no convenience stores were in sight, and not a single grocery store, fast-food restaurant, or rest-stop lined the highway.

“I’m huge,” I complained, moving slowly toward the van. He stopped me in the middle of the warm, sunny parking lot, turning me to face him.

“You’re beautiful… and alive,” he added, marveling at my face. “Annie… didn’t live past yesterday.”

“You loved her?” I asked, reaching for his arms. He nodded, taking my left hand in his.

“We’re married here,” he said, brushing his thumb and forefinger over my ring finger. “Your fingers were swollen, and you couldn’t wear your ring. It’s at home, in our bedroom.”

An excited smile edged over my lips, and no amount of effort could keep it at bay. “I’m your wife?”

He bent to kiss my lips, his breath warm and familiar. “Yes. And when we go home, I will make
you
my wife, Roam. If you’ll have me.”

I chuckled into his mouth, grinning. “That’s funny, Mr. Perry. If I’ll have you.”

“Mrs. Perry, I’ll require an official ‘yes.’”

“Yes, of course I’ll marry you,” I laughed, balancing on my toes to loop my arms around his neck. He kissed me soundly, almost making me forget that we had Logan, Violet, and a half-dead immortal in the back of our
stolen van.

“I would have preferred to ask you somewhere other than a parking lot, but this will have to do.”

Parking-lot marriage proposals…
I thought of Logan in the lot of our high-school. I knew then it didn’t matter where the proposal was, it mattered who was asking.

“
I would have said yes… any place, any…
year
.” I flinched at a low cramp in my back, wondering if maybe I wasn’t finished in the restroom. He gathered me in his arms, grinning. His dark, blonde beard had grown on me, and I decided I preferred him with facial hair.

“Ha… you think so, but remind me to tell you about 1790.”

I laughed, walking with him hand-in-hand to the van.

The distant cramp came back again, twenty minutes later.

We ate at a diner in Swansboro, North Carolina, minutes from where our boat was docked. The waitress served us hamburgers after I adamantly protested the array of seafood offered on the menu and begged everyone to pass.

“There’s a new speedy restaurant in California, serves hamburgers through a window, I heard,” Martha, according to the nametag on her blouse, informed us. “Like White Castle. Another one opening in Illinois. Just a matter of time ‘fore they’re all over the place.”

I realized
through her southern accent that she meant
McDonalds.
West grinned at her, thanking her for our meal. She winked, scurrying behind the counter.

“
Really? In front of your pregnant wife,” Violet watched West intently. His eyes shifted to hers.

“What?”

“He doesn’t even realize he’s doing it,” I defended him, nodding at the waitress. “Flirting.”

“Dog.”

“There’s a difference between flirting and being polite,” West looked at Logan for help, but he gave him a look that read
you’re on your own
.

“No wonder my mom fell for you.” Violet took an enormous bite of her hamburger, scowling at her father. “Waitresses are your specialty.”

“Your mother was just as friendly to me,” he defended, glancing my way. I lowered my eyes to my food, thinking of Laurel.
She’s alive, somewhere… and only Troy knows how to find her.

“You poor, manipulated man,” she said with her mouth full.

Logan frowned at her. “Could you possibly swallow before speaking?”

She gulped animatedly, reaching for her sugary soda. “Stop looking at my mouth.”