Tempus (48 page)

The sun was already bright when I woke up.  I yawned and stretched and rolled and made noises, then opened my eyes.  I couldn’t have moved much all night.  My eyes went to the clock.  Seven forty-five.

“Oh, my god!”  I jumped out of bed.

Eight!  I had to be at the park at eight!  I didn’t have time to do anything!  I ran as fast as I could go to the bathroom, brushing my teeth with one hand, washing my face with a cloth in the other.  My hair was a tangled mess, so I grabbed the brush, tearing it through my hair as I ran back to my room.

I jerked out the first clothes my hands landed on; I didn’t even care if they matched.  I was going to have to run all the way there!  I was jerking things on, hopping around, and pulling on shoes without socks.

The notebook!

I leaned under my bed and snatched it out, hastily turning the pages.  I tried to find the back first.  I had no idea where he had written.

It wasn’t the back page.  It wasn’t on the last page where I’d written.  I flipped and flipped, and then I saw.  The page with the list.

I turned to it.  At the bottom of the short list, below the erased words ‘Too Old,’ were three new words.

Gabriel loves me.

He loves me?  He loves me!  I already knew that, didn’t I?  Yes, I did, but it was different seeing it in writing.  He had never said it to me, not that I could remember, but he had showed it—and that was even more important than saying it.

I closed the notebook, shoved it under my pillow, and
ran
.

I had forgotten to remove my watch last night, and today I was grateful.  I tried not to look too often, but whenever I got tired, when I felt myself slowing down, I would look at it and find new strength, new air.  I was going to be late, but I knew he would wait.  I thought maybe I should call, but I looked down, and I had forgotten my phone.

I tried to concentrate on his face, see his eyes.  I imagined speaking to him.  ‘
I’m coming, Gabriel.  Wait for me
.’  I didn’t know if he could hear me, but it made me feel better to imagine he could.

As I turned the corner, the park came into sight.  I looked at my watch.  Eight-fifteen.  I ran faster, using the last burst of energy I could dig down and find.  I ran down the slope, across the street, and in through the entrance toward the back.  I flew past the big birdbath and benches.  I
knew
where I was headed.

I saw him in the shadows of the trees.  He was leaning against one of them.  He was wearing jeans, sneakers and a regular black tee shirt.  Even in the shadows, I could see his blue eyes.  He held out his hand.

I ran to the trees, to the shadows, and grabbed his outstretched hand, twining my fingers through his.

“What took you so long?  I was worried.”  He had a concerned expression on his beautiful face.

“I’m fine, just running late.  I’m sorry I kept you waiting.”  I was panting, trying to catch my breath.

There was a blanket under the tree.  He pulled me over to it, and we sat, never letting go.  After we were seated, he took my other hand and held it tightly.  “I was a
little
worried.”  His eyes were dark, searching mine.  “I was afraid you decided not to come.”

“I wouldn’t do that.  I would
never
do that.  I woke up late.”  I pulled one hand loose and put it on his cheek.  “I couldn’t hurt you.”

“Did you read what I wrote?”  He asked.

I knew my face was red from running, but I also knew he had to see the blush that deepened the color of my cheeks.  “I did.”

He raised my chin with his fingers, looking deeply into my eyes.  “And?”

“Did you mean it?”  I asked.

“With all my heart.” 

“With all your heart, what?”  I wanted to hear it.

“I love you, Jessie.  Maybe I loved you before time even began.”  He put my hand on his heart.  I could feel the steady, fast rhythm, felt it pulse through me.  My own heart felt connected—his set the pace and mine beat with it.

He smiled, then suddenly rose to his feet, pulling me with him.  “I have to show you something!”  He guided me to one of the trees.  “Close your eyes.”

I closed my eyes and he took me a few more steps.  He placed my hand on the bark of the tree, and moved it over the surface.  I could feel something irregular, out of place.  I knew what it was.

In my ear, his soft voice whispered, “Open your eyes.”  So I did.

There was a carving in the bark.  A heart, and inside J + G.  It looked like it had been there for ages.  I turned and smiled at him, then turned back.  “I remember this.  I’ve never seen it awake, that I recall.”

“I know.  I carved it for you yesterday.  It’s a hundred years old, you know.”  He smiled, showing his beautiful teeth.

“I love it. 
Thank you
.”

I turned my back to the tree and he stepped closer, until his arms slid around me and he pressed his body to mine.  “You’re welcome,” he whispered, just before our lips met.  It felt as if we were breathing each other again, the charge around us stronger than ever.

He leaned back a moment.  “I heard you.”

My mind was still on his lips.  I closed my eyes a second.  “You what?”

“I heard you telling me to wait.  I was still worried, but I heard you.  I knew you were coming.”

That delighted me.  He had heard me, and I was only half way here.  That was pretty good!  “I was afraid you would leave, and I forgot my phone because I was in such a hurry.”

“I can take you back to get it.  We need to be together—I
need
to be with you.”

Something in the way he said it made me take notice.  “Why?”  I wasn’t arguing, it’s what I
wanted
, but there was something in the words, something unsaid.

“I’ll tell you when we get to your house.  Or we can go to my house.  Your choice.”

I took a deep breath.  I was suddenly afraid, and I didn’t want him out of my sight.  I could feel something coming.  I knew it was today.  I knew it was soon.  I felt dizzy and unstable for a moment.

Gabriel held on to me.  “What’s wrong?”  His hand was on my face again.

“It’s coming.  I feel it.”

“What you feel is…”  He stopped, and squeezed his lips together, stepping away and pulling me with him.  “My car is over there.”  He pointed to the other side of the park and started walking that way.

“What I feel is what?”

He walked silently toward the car, his shoulders slightly stiff, and his arm tight around me.  I waited for his response, biting my tongue.  I knew he would tell me.  I knew he didn’t want to.  I knew I didn’t want to know.

We crossed the park quickly, went straight to the car, and he opened the door.  “You forgot the blanket.”  I said, sliding into the seat.

“It’s okay, it doesn’t matter.”  He closed the door as soon as I was inside.

I watched him cross in front, quick and deliberate.  No slow, sensuous walk today.  Walking served only its basic purpose, getting from one place to another.  The door opened, he climbed in, and the motor roared.  He gave it more gas than necessary a few times before shifting into gear and pulling out.

He kept his hand on the gearshift the entire time, staring straight ahead.  He had gone from smiling and light-hearted to quiet and focused in the blink of an eye.  No, in the space of a question.  Why had I opened my big mouth?

When we pulled into the driveway, he put the car in neutral, foot on the brake.  “My house or yours?”  The first words he had spoken the entire drive.

I thought for just a moment.  I wasn’t up to seeing his dad.  “Mine.”  I answered.

He shifted the car into first and turned it off.  “I’m sorry, Jessie.  I thought this would be easier.  It
never
gets easier.”

Before I could ask what, he was out of the car.  He opened my door, put out his hand, and I reached up.  I had been so self-absorbed on the drive that the electric jolt nearly made me jump.  It didn’t hurt, it never hurt, but it could be jarring when it was unexpected and your mind was preoccupied.

“It’s open,” I told him, looking at the door.

He swung it open and we walked inside.  “Something to drink?”  He asked.

“Yeah.”

He went straight to the cabinet with the glasses.  It felt strange watching him in my house.  I was so used to it being Dad and me, sometimes Julie, but never anyone else.  He seemed to have purpose, moving from the cabinet, to the refrigerator, pouring lemonade.  He looked comfortable, like he’d done it before, just like this.

He handed me a glass and took a drink from his own, then took my free hand and turned toward the door, heading, I knew, for my room.  I didn’t feel ‘squinched up’ going through the house this time.  I simply followed him, feeling his fingers and the palm of his hand against my own.

When we reached the third floor, instead of going to my room, he led me to the library.  He opened the door, releasing my hand, and walked to the roll top desk, sliding it open.  He leaned down, pulled out the cigar box, and opened it.

On top was the picture of my mom, the one with the name ‘Analise’ on back.  He picked it up, setting the box down.  “This is your mother?”  He asked.

“Yes, Eliana.  That’s my mother.”

He flipped it over, ran his finger across the name on the back, closing his eyes.  He flipped it back to the front and held it up.  “You are your mother’s daughter.”  Just like my dad had said.

He looked around the room, saw the scanner, and walked to it with the picture.  He opened the top, placed the picture in, and closed it.  He pushed the ‘copy’ button and waited until it printed, then removed and folded the paper carefully.  He put it in the pocket of his jeans, never looking at me.

Gabriel placed the photo carefully back in the box, closed it, put it on the shelf, and closed the roll top.  He crossed to me, taking my hand, and led me out the door and to my room.

“What are you doing?”  I asked when it became too much.

He stopped and faced me, his face softening for a moment.  “Perhaps the most important thing I have ever done, but hopefully not the most important I will ever do.”  He leaned over and kissed my cheek.  I searched his eyes for a clue, but found none.  “I’m still trying to help you find out about your mother.”

He turned and walked straight to my mirror.  I watched him closely, intently.  He just stood there a moment, and then brushed something off his shirt, letting out a deep sigh.  I didn’t see a thing, but it felt like the air fluttered, then he turned back and smiled, put his arm around me and guided me to the bed.

He sat on the edge, pulling me with him.  When he put a hand on my cheek I could feel what he was doing, I could feel the energy surrounding me, warm and crackling.  He was staring into my eyes, and then glanced at my lips.  I felt the pull and moved toward him.

He kissed me softly, slowly, deeply.  The slowest, most delicious kiss ever, and all the fireworks before paled, were replaced with something bigger and brighter and all consuming.  I could barely think.  It felt like he was inside of me, tangling every part of us together in such a way that we could never be untangled.  It felt like ribbons of energy, twining around every muscle, every bone, and every organ.

I wondered if I could do the same to him.  I could feel his presence like a living thing, inside and out, but could he feel
me
that way?  I wanted him to, I wanted him to feel me being a part of him, and I wanted him to know I was there inside, inseparable.

I imagined the ribbons of energy I could feel wrapping around me, generated my own, and sent them in search of every part of him, weaving like vines in and through flesh, blood, and bone.  I felt him tremble against me, his mouth still locked on mine in that deepest of kisses.  He pulled me as tight, as close, as flesh allowed—but even our flesh felt like no true barrier. 

He pulled his mouth away a moment.  “I believe that is the closest two separate beings can come to being one in every way.”  His breath was raspy, and labored. 

I took a deep breath and held it.  “Not in every way, Gabriel.”  I whispered.

He put his lips to my forehead.  “Not
this
time, Jessie.  Not until I find you again.  Not until there’s nothing but death left to try and separate us.” 

I could feel that vibrating conflict inside him again; I could feel the restraint it took, wondered if there was a weakness there to take advantage of.  I was sure I could find it, if I tried.  Would it be so wrong to do?  Would it be wrong to manipulate, to find a way to break him down?

I let out a sigh.  Yes, it would be wrong.  If I had to think of it as ‘breaking him down,’ then it would be wrong.  I couldn’t ‘break’ Gabriel.  I loved him, and you don’t break someone you love.  I gasped.  Ohmigod.

“What?  What’s wrong?”  He leaned away enough to look into my eyes.

“I
love
you.”  I felt—stunned?  Why did the thought surprise me?  Hadn’t I always known?

His eyes closed slowly, and then reopened, blazing, burning into my own.  “That’s the first time you’ve told me.”