Time's Enemy: A Romantic Time Travel Adventure (Saturn Society Book 1) (26 page)

She’d avoided the telephone because she knew it was Theodore. Her loyalty to him and the Society warred with her need to repay Tony for saving her life. And she longed to talk to Tony, to let him see the woman she’d become, get to know him. “I’ll have the money I owe you Friday. I’ll bring it to you af—”

“I’m not concerned about the money.” Theodore’s voice was firm. “As you shouldn’t be. There will always be a suite for you at the House, the Society takes care of its own—”

“I know, Theodore. I just want to...” Be her own person. Not be ruled by the Society any more than she had to. “...take care of myself. I won’t take charity, not even from the Society. I wasn’t avoiding the phone because of the money, you know me better than that.”

“Yes, I do.” Theodore spoke slowly. “That’s why I get the idea there’s more to this than you’re telling me.”

She slumped against the siding and pressed the back of her hand to her forehead.

“You found the jumper, didn’t you?” Theodore’s voice was quiet, accusatory. “When, Charlotte? Why did you not contact me?”

“I was going to. As soon as I got off work—”

“How long have you been aware of this person?”

She sighed. “Friday. He just woke up from recovery today.”

Theodore’s voice lowered in pitch, and he spoke sharply. “This isn’t a random jumper, is it? It’s someone who—”

“He’s a good man! He doesn’t deserve—”

“If he’s in the book, he must be neutralized! You of all people should understand that, after your father—”

“This isn’t about my father!” Charlotte jerked upright. “This is about a man who may not have even done anything.” Yet.

Theodore’s shoulders flattened and he loomed closer to her. “But he will. Otherwise he wouldn’t be in the book.”

Charlotte lowered her voice and dropped her gaze to project a deferential attitude. “I’m not arguing the fact that time shouldn’t be altered. But your methods... please, Theodore, let me handle this one.” She forced strength into her voice. If he detected any weakness in her, he wouldn’t let her. “I’ll convince him to come to the House. Please, promise me you won’t hurt him, you’ll just send him home...”

It wouldn’t be easy. Tony had tensed when she mentioned Theodore. He knew something, though maybe not the full extent of the danger. He wouldn’t be easily convinced. She’d have to take care in working up to the suggestion. “Please, Theodore.” She stopped before her pleading turned into begging.

Theodore’s voice grew gentle again. “Who is this man, that you’re willing to risk your principles, everything the Society stands for?”

“It’s Tony. Tony Solomon. The man who saved my life.”

“I know! Let’s go visit my friend Theodore.” Charlotte popped a dusty-pink, bell-shaped hat on as soon as her shift at Irving’s ended.

Nausea welled in Tony’s stomach as he held the door for her. What was she trying to do? She couldn’t have seen the wanted posters in the 1954 Society House, but were there earlier versions?

Not a chance Tony wanted to take. “Uh... I don’t know, I’m kind of tired, and I could use a shower—or bath.” Even though he’d taken one that morning, he preferred not to go through the rest of the day smelling of fried food.

“Oh, how rude of me! Of course we can go back to my house. Then maybe after—”

“I’m going to need some new clothes, too,” Tony cut in, hoping to distract her. “I brought a suitcase, but when I got here, all I had was the broken handle.”

They turned down Fourth Street, toward the river and Charlotte’s house. “I’ve tried that before, too. There seems to be a sphere of influence, if you will, around us. Unless something’s directly touching you, and within a couple of inches of your body, it stays behind when you jump.”

Tony gave a rueful chuckle. “Then some homeless guy’s probably got himself a week’s worth of socks and underwear. And a couple of mint-condition, vintage suits. Speaking of which... who, uh, undressed me?”

A tinge of red crept into her face before she turned away. “Elmer did.” She stared at a laundromat as they walked past, as if there were something fascinating reflected in its front window. “He’s a... gentleman I’ve been seeing.”

Oh yeah, the boyfriend Dewey had mentioned. The one Tony supposedly ran off.

Which he wouldn’t, despite the hollow in his gut. He was there for information. Nothing more, never mind what Dewey said.

Conversation made the half-hour walk zip by. Tony told her about welfare and Social Security, and other legacies from her time that lasted into his day, all while trying not to gawk at the old-fashioned—at least, to him—cars, the newsstand huckster, the teenage boy selling apples on the corner for a nickel apiece. Tony flipped him a dime, and he and Charlotte munched apples as they walked, juicier and sweeter than any he could remember eating. Maybe it was just in contrast to the underlying tang of pollution that curled from exhaust pipes and floated in gray clouds on the north and east sides of town, from factories long gone in Tony’s time.

Charlotte listened with attentive eyes, made him feel interesting and important. In turn, she amused him with stories of her childhood, fascinated him with descriptions of projects she’d worked on at the now-defunct Kitchen Products Research Company.

Though her dreams and her life’s work had become relegated to a few minutes she could snatch here and there on weekends and evenings, they were still intact, unlike his own.

Tony had called it The Plan, the product of a naïve, twenty-one-year-old’s mind.

Establish management career with prestigious firm, good pay, and advancement. Check.

Get married, have kids. Been there, done that, though a little earlier than planned.

Make a million by age thirty-five. Done, with a little help from his future self.

And what did it all mean now? His one child had been taken from him in a horrible, violent way. Divorce hadn’t been in The Plan, either. Time travel sure as hell hadn’t been.

His achievements weren’t without sacrifice. And once he’d reached them, what was left?

It was a question he didn’t care to ponder at the moment. Much more pleasant to enjoy the company of a beautiful, intriguing woman, one who was alive because of him. “So what do you do for fun?” he asked.

“There are the dances every weekend. And the movies, of course. Though I’m afraid my social life isn’t very active now.”

She entertained him with tales of her college years, of weekdays spent studying and weekend jaunts to roadhouses or an illicit club with a laundry for a front.

“So were you a flapper, then?” he asked.

She laughed. “Well, I never took up the habit of going about with my coat and galoshes unfastened. But I’ve enjoyed my share of drink, and dances my papa would have never approved of. The time my sister visited... oh, the things she said to me! But then Mabel’s always been dreadfully dull and proper.”

They’d reached Charlotte’s neighborhood. Children played in yards and on the sidewalks, on bikes and with balls. More activity than Tony ever saw around his apartment, no matter how pleasant the weather.

As they neared the house three doors down from Charlotte’s, a woman burst out the front door calling her name. When they stopped at the gate, she pressed three Mason jars of green beans into Charlotte’s arms. “I can’t thank you enough for fixing the radio.” She went on about how her husband was driving her crazy, being unable to tune in to his programs.

Tony waited while the women chatted, then they moved on to Charlotte’s house. “I take it you’re the neighborhood fix-it lady?” He held the gate open for her.

“So some people call me.” She didn’t elaborate, and he found her modesty refreshing. She waved to a boy riding past on his bicycle. “Andy there gave me a ball of tinfoil for fixing his bike a couple weeks ago.”

Tony chuckled. “Tinfoil?”

“I’m sure it will come in handy. Perhaps for the sun-powered furnace.”

Tony stumbled going up the steps to her porch as he did a double take. “So you did become an inventor!”

“Well, I did work at the Kitchen Products Research Company. Before it closed. Now I work at home, in the evenings. Weekends. Whenever I can spare a moment. “Things like beans and foil may not seem like much to you, but...”

“They’re a lot to them,” Tony finished.

“Yes. And even if something isn’t much to me—like a ball of tinfoil—helping others is my way of giving back. I’ve been fortunate. I’ve had a college education, a good job—or did, until the Research closed. And way back when we were trapped, you gave me the encouragement I needed to follow my dreams.”

Pride swelled in him. He’d made a difference in her life. Brief as it was, his influence had had an impact on the fascinating woman she’d become.

She has a boyfriend.
Tony pushed his thoughts back to the immediate conversation. “So why’s a skilled woman like you working for a dirtbag like Irving?” The guy had deliberately brushed against her more than once, and when he goosed her a couple times, Tony wanted to jump up and deck him. Once Charlotte had whirled around in surprise and spilled a cup of soup on the letch. Tony suspected it wasn’t an accident.

She sighed. “It pays the rent and puts food on my table. I’m lucky to have a job at all.” She stared straight ahead, as she tossed her hat onto a wall rack. Her jaw tightened.

Then she whirled around, her grimace gone. “Why don’t you get your bath, then let’s go shopping. One of the customers said there’s a good sale at Rike’s.” Her smile dissipated. “Only I’m afraid I don’t have enough money to buy you anything more than the most basic—”

“I have money,” Tony said. Somehow the prospect of shopping seemed less distasteful since he’d be with her. “While we’re at it, I’ll find a place to stay—”

“You’ll do nothing of the sort.” A stern expression took over her face. “You did see my room for rent sign, didn’t you?”

He hesitated.

She put her hands on her hips. “You need a place to stay, I have a room. Unless... Oh, dear, I imagine you must stay in much nicer places—”

“No, no.” He waved sideways. “Your spare room’s fine. How much is it?”

“Tony! You saved my life. I can’t take—”

“The hell you can’t. If I’m going to be your boarder, I’ll pay the same as anyone else.”

“But your money...”

The coins in the attic. His driver’s license. “Irving took it, didn’t he?” Tony opened his wallet and pulled out one of the 1929 ten dollar bills he’d bought on E-bay.

She studied the bill but didn’t take it. “Very well. The room’s six dollars a week. Includes supper.”

A slow grin spread across his face. Perfect. He should have ample opportunity to ply her with questions. As long as Pippin didn’t come around.

An hour later, Tony held the door open then followed her inside the big department store. Charlotte strode toward the store directory. “It’s been a while since I’ve been here.”

“Me too.” No point in telling her the building would be demolished in 1999 to make way for a performing arts center.

“I can’t afford to shop very often,” she said in a matter-of-fact voice. “And I have adequate clothing.”

He did a double take. What woman ever had enough to wear?

In the men’s department, she went straight to the shelves with sale placards above them. They got off the elevator with three shirts and a week’s worth of underwear and socks—all for a little over thirty dollars. Of course, that thirty dollars had cost him over two hundred to buy. He checked his watch. The entire shopping excursion had taken fifteen minutes.

“What are you looking at?” Charlotte asked as they walked toward the exit. The sparkle in her eyes told him she didn’t take offense at his curious expression.

“You shop like a man.”

“I knew what you needed and got it. Some women can stay here all day and not spend a dime. Not me. I’ve never seen the point in gawking over things you’ve no intention of buying.”

Her logic amazed him. But her gaze traveled over the dresses as they walked through the better dresses department. “See something you like?” he asked.

“I don’t need anything.” She stared straight ahead.

“I didn’t ask if you needed anything, I asked if you liked something. I got new clothes, you should get some too.”