Time's Enemy: A Romantic Time Travel Adventure (Saturn Society Book 1) (14 page)

The girl’s cry reached him again. Helplessness pinned his feet to the floor. Fear he wouldn’t reach her in time mocked him. He’d have to climb out onto that haphazard pile of wood. One misstep could plunge him into the icy, raging current. Compared to this, the pyramid in Mexico was nothing. If he didn’t go out there, that little girl would die.

He yanked off his suit jacket. Cold as he was, it would only get in the way. “Hang on!” He climbed over the sash. She tried to grab hold of a broken timber. Missed. Then slipped into the water.

“No!” Despair stung him. The same way it had the night Bethany hadn’t come home, and a state trooper rang their doorbell. Tony had known his daughter was dead before the man said a word. “Hang on!” This little girl had a chance. “I’m coming!”

He lowered himself onto the pile of debris. The wind buffeted him, and the wood shifted and cracked as he planted his feet on it. He picked his way across the rain-slicked wood to where the girl had fallen. The rivers pushed at the hulk of the former storefront and dislodged a plank or chunk here and there, forcing him to retrace his path and find a new route twice. Finally he reached the spot where she’d gone under, and knelt down to peer into the floodwaters’ murky depths.

The water was so muddy it was opaque. Hopelessness ate at his soul, but he kept searching. The driftwood settled again, and he stumbled. He caught himself and picked his way a few steps to his left, praying the current hadn’t carried her away. Then he spotted a swath of dark blue—her coat. He crawled to it, reached into the chill water, and grabbed an arm.

He pulled. When she started to come out, he almost lost his balance. Bracing one leg against a piece of drift, he shifted until he was over the small body. He wrapped his arms around the child and lifted her to his waist as he straightened. Icy water poured off her coat.

She could have already drowned.
No!
He couldn’t think that way. Whatever it took, no matter what the risk, he’d save her. He laid her on one of the larger boards and pressed his finger to her wrist. “No...” His voice came out a croak. He made a choking sound and lowered his chin. Too late. He’d taken too long, let fear make him hesitate. He started to relax his grip on the small wrist when vertigo burst through him. Was he going home? He stumbled, barely caught himself, and gripped the child’s wrist tighter. His hand tingled where he held her, like a thousand needles pricking his skin. The sensation moved up his arm and through his body, then dissipated. The vertigo passed.

No warp. He still clutched the child’s wrist. It was still raining, and the muddy river still swamped the Dayton, Ohio of a century in his past. There was nothing he could do for the kid. Despair stabbed him as he started to let go of her. Then... was that a pulse?

He squeezed her wrist tighter. Felt it again. She was alive.

Her head lolled to the side, and water drained out of her mouth. He did a quick visual survey for injuries. Thankfully, he found nothing more serious than a few scrapes and bruises on her ankles, hands and face.

He rolled her onto her back. “Hey.” He grasped a small shoulder and gently shook. Cold pinpricks formed on his back where rain was seeping through his shirt. Her eyes remained closed, and her muddy hair lay plastered to her head in a tangled mass.

She lay still. No rise and fall of the chest. Had he pulled her out of there just to watch her die? He pressed two fingers to the side of her neck. The pulse was weak, but there.

He leaned over her to confirm no breath escaped from her mouth or nose, then straightened and gazed over her inert form, trying to remember the sequence of actions they’d taught in the first aid class he’d taken at work last year.

Somewhere, a father would be looking for this little girl.

Tony would do anything he could to spare another man the grief he’d gone through.

Watching her chest, he tipped the girl’s head back, pinched her nose shut, and puffed two short breaths into her mouth.

It rose with each breath. Good. He sat up.

Her chest didn’t rise again.

He breathed into her a second time, checked for motion afterward.

Still nothing. He felt her carotid artery, and her pulse beat faintly beneath his fingertip.

He leaned down and gave two more short breaths. “Come on, breathe, dammit!”

This time he thought her chest expanded a tiny bit. He waited. There, it went up again. Her eyelids quivered, and a shudder racked her body.

“Hey!” He grasped her shoulder and shook. After he made sure she was still breathing, he shook her other shoulder. “Hey kid, wake up!”

Her mouth opened, and she let out a spastic, gurgling cough as her eyelids slid open, revealing round, brown eyes like a frightened doe’s.

He’d seen those eyes before. But where?

“Mama?” she whispered.

“It’s all right, honey.” Tony’s heart knotted. She made a little whimpering sound. Another shudder convulsed through her. “You’re going to be okay.” She had to be freezing. He was, and he wasn’t as wet.

“Mama...” she repeated, louder.

“I’m sorry honey, but I don’t know where your mama is,” Tony said softly. “We’ll find her as soon as we can.” First he had to make sure she didn’t succumb to hypothermia. “Let’s get you inside and out of those wet clothes before you freeze.”

“Ma- ma...” The little girl’s gaze darted around, focused on Tony, then at the raging floodwaters a few feet away. Her lower lip trembled, and she panted in shallow gulps. “Wa- waaaAAAAAHHHHer!” she shrieked. “No! No water! NO WATER! NO! NOOOOOOOOOOOO!” Tony reached for her and scooped her into his arms. Her screams faded into unintelligible blubbering. “Please don’t... no! Water! Please...”

Tony cradled the girl’s head against his chest. “It’s all right, baby, it’s all right. You’re safe now. It’s all right.” Finally, she quieted. “Let’s get you inside, okay?” Her head shifted against him in what he hoped was a nod.

Driftwood shifted beneath him as he hoisted her over his shoulder and painstakingly made his way back to the Smoke Shop, trying to hurry and get her inside before the whole pile gave way and the river claimed them both. She held still while he pushed her through the open window, then boosted himself through.

She struggled to sit. “Mama?” She searched the attic.

“Oh, God,” Tony murmured. Had the poor kid just watched her mother drown? “Your mama’s not here, honey. But we’ll find her.” Alive, he hoped. And soon, too. Not only for the little girl’s sake, but he didn’t know if he could handle another meltdown.

“She went... to heaven,” the girl said. “A long time ago.”

Some of the tension slipped off Tony’s bones. “We’ve got to get you out of these wet things, okay?” He unbuttoned her coat, grateful the child hadn’t just seen her mother swept away by the river. But what was he going to do with her?

She leaned over so he could more easily pull off her dripping coat. “Th- thank you, sir.”

“I’m just glad I was able get to you.” He knelt, leaned back on his ankles and gave his best shot at a don’t-worry-it’s-going-to-be-all-right smile, but the expression faded as the girl continued to shiver. “Can you get undressed? There’s a blanket over there, I’ll go get it.”

She looked down at herself, then brought a pair of shaking hands to the buttons on her dress. He jumped up and slammed the window shut, then dashed across the attic and grabbed the quilt he’d slept on, ignoring the chill settling into his own body.

He waited as she fumbled around the neck of her dress. Her fingertips had a bluish cast, and slipped over the tiny button.

He had to help her. The longer it took for her to get dry and warm, the more she was at risk for hypothermia. “Is it okay if I help?” Tony reached for the buttons.

Her golden brown eyes went round, but not fearful. Finally, the girl nodded.

Letting a stranger undress her felt funny. Even Charlotte’s papa hadn’t done that since she was little. But the man was right, so she let him unbutton her wet dress.

“What’s your name?” He worked the next button free.

“Ch- Charlotte. Charlotte Henderson,” she said through chattering teeth. “What’s yours?”

His hands went still, as if he had to think about it. “Tony Solomon.”

“It’s very nice to meet you, Mr. Solomon.”

The corners of his mouth turned up a little. “I don’t know about nice, considering the situation, but I’m glad to meet you, too.” He undid the last button and sat back on his ankles. “Can you get your clothes off the rest of the way?”

“I- I think so.”

He scooted around so he faced away from her. “When you’re done, wrap up in that blanket.”

“Y- yes, Mr. Solomon.”

“You can call me Tony.”

He sat with his back to her while she worked to pull the soaked dress over her head. “My papa says it’s disrespectful to call adults by their Christian names.”

“You and I will probably get to be real good friends by the time we get out of here. So under the circumstances, I think it’s okay.”

“My name’s really Dorothy.” Talking helped warm her insides. “Charlotte’s my middle name, but my mama’s—”

“No way.” He turned around, and his eyes got really big like she’d grown wings or a tail. Then, as if he’d suddenly remembered she had her dress half off, he quickly faced away again.

“Why do you say that?” Why didn’t he believe her?

“That’s my ex-wife’s name.”

“Wha-”

“Dorothy Henderson. My ex-wife,” he repeated. Charlotte wiggled out of her slip. “That was her name before we got married. Only her middle name’s Carol. And everyone calls her Dora because she doesn’t like Dorothy. Or Carol.”

“My grandma’s the only other Dorothy Henderson I know,” Charlotte said.

“Probably no relation, Dora’s family’s not from around here.” He half-turned. “Charlotte’s a pretty name.”

“Thank you, sir.” How funny that she had the same name as his wife. She pulled her stockings off. Her shoes had come off after she fell into the water. She hoped Papa wasn’t angry that she’d lost them. Her bloomers were wet too, but she left them on. Mr. Solomon was saying something about the rain. Her papa would say it was idle chatter, but she was grateful the man kept talking. He was trying to make her feel better, to help her forget the horrible cold and wet. She pulled the quilt around her.

Tony watched the corner of it slide along the floor. “You covered up?”

“Yes, sir.”

He scooted around and studied her. “You’re still freezing.” He motioned her toward him. She crawled over. He snatched a jacket off the floor next to him and piled it over the quilt. Then he sat, Indian-style, and motioned with his hands. “Come here.” He wanted her to sit with him. When she moved closer, he pulled her onto his lap and wrapped his arms around her. “This’ll be the best way to get you warm.” He lowered his chin so it rested on top of her head.

He was warm, but she couldn’t stop shivering. Keeping one arm around her, he swiped his glasses off with the other hand, rubbed them on the quilt, then pushed them back on.

She wriggled in the quilt until she could twist around.

He was a handsome man, though not quite what she would picture as a hero. His dark hair stuck up sort of funny, and he acted nervous, like Dewey did after he told Papa a fib. Mr. Solomon’s oval-shaped, gold glasses were just like Papa’s, only shinier, but something about his clothes wasn’t quite right. He wore a nice shirt and trousers, like those her papa wore to the office, but no vest, and the tie that hung loosely knotted below his neck was fatter than Papa’s. His collar had pointy corners, and was shorter than it should be. But strangest of all was the pale, thick scar around his neck.

He caught her staring. “Feeling better?”

She’d almost stopped shivering. “Yes, sir.” He looked like he expected her to say something, so she asked the first thing she thought of. “Do you have family out in that?”

He had to think about it. “Yeah. Distant relatives. I’m not sure exactly where they live. What about you?”

“My papa’s at work. He works in a big office on First Street. Mabel—that’s my sister—and my brother Dewey—they were still at home when I went to the store...” She stuck a hand out of the blanket and twirled it in her damp hair. “I hope they’re all right.” Her voice was shaky.

“I’m sure they’re fine.”

“And Mr. Henry.”

“Who’s he?”

“He owns the market... before the water tore it to pieces.” She told him about her morning up to the time she fell into the water near the building they now sat inside. “I was sure I was a goner, ‘cause I don’t know how to swim.” All that horrid, yucky water swirling around her... she couldn’t breathe... then the water swallowed her, every move trapped her further, and it was so cold... She shivered. Then everything had become bright, so bright she couldn’t see anything. Nothing except her mama in the middle of all that light...

Tony rubbed his hands up and down her back. “How old are you?” He said it quickly, as if he was trying to change the subject.

“Nine.” She was glad he’d made her think of something besides the awful water and how cold she was.

“You look older.”

“Everyone says that. I’m tall for my age.”

“What grade are you in?”

“Fourth. I’m supposed to be in third, but last year it was too easy and they let me skip a grade.”

“You must be really smart.”

“I am,” Charlotte said. “Papa says I’m pre- preco...”

His mouth twitched, like he was trying not to laugh. “Precocious?”

“Yes! That’s it.”

“What’s your favorite subject in school?”

It was hard to choose. She liked them all, even math. “Science, I think. Or maybe reading. Because a good book can take you anywhere. That’s what my teacher says.”

“She’s right.”

“I like everything about school, except for Sammy Schmidt and John Oliver. They’re boys in my class. They make fun of me and call me Too-Tall-Charlotte. But Miss Jessup—she’s our teacher—she makes them clean erasers if she hears. She’s really nice. She tells us lots of good stories, and... when I told her I want to be an inventor when I grow up, she didn’t tell me it was foolish and girls are supposed to get married and have children, like Uncle Curtis says. Miss Jessup says women can do anything if we put our minds to it.”