ground, a spot that this house ended up being built around…There’s a wrinkle there. An invisible wrinkle in the fabric of time. A doorway, Jane. And I can open it.”
His thumb touched a button on the remote, and she heard a low-pitched hum. A pinprick of light appeared in the air halfway between the floor and the ceiling, at the room’s center.
“My intent was to go back, and only a few months. I wanted to go to my Benjamin before he’d ever been exposed to the virus, and take him away before he could become infected. I wanted to save him. Surely you can understand that, can’t you, Jane? Only hours ago you were willing to face me down with nothing but a wooden bat in order to save your own child. You’d do anything for him. You know you would.”
She didn’t like the way his eyes were blazing, or the tightness of his grip on her forearm. She pulled, but he got to his feet, gave one good tug, and she was pressed tight to him. His free arm snapped around her waist like a padlock’s hasp, and he held her immobile. The fingers of his other hand worked the dial on the little black box, and the box began to hum. But the light remained the same.
“I messed it up, Jane,” he said, his voice close to her ear, as he slowly turned a dial with his free hand. “My calculations were off somehow, and I came forward instead of going back. And not just a few months, but a century. A hundred years.”
He gave the dial another twist, his grip on her waist tightening. She shook her head, but stopped pulling against his embrace. “This can’t be,” she whispered. “This just can’t be.”
Zach twisted the dial once more, but the light only flashed brighter for an instant and then died. For a long moment, Jane just stared at the spot where it had been.
He fiddled with the box, twisting the knob again, but nothing happened.
“Damn. I’m forgetting… I’m not insane,” he whispered, and she realized, a little belatedly, that he was still holding her. Her back nestled intimately against the front of him, and his hand remained, lightly now, but snugly, at her waist. “The device needs time to recharge. How I let that slip my mind, I don’t know. Three days, Jane, and I’ll show you a wonder you’ll never forget. I am exactly who I say I am. I swear to you. And I need you, Jane. I need you to let me stay here until the device can recharge and I can get back to my son.”
She turned in his arms, stared up into his eyes and knew, without any doubt, that this man fully believed every word he was saying. This poor, beautiful, sick man.
“You won’t turn me away. I know you won’t. There’s kindness in your eyes, Jane. I see it there. You won’t—”
“You need help,” she whispered. “Let me help you find it.”
He closed his eyes, his shoulders slumping forward as if he were too exhausted to go on. “At least,” he whispered, “let me stay until morning. I’ll think of a way to make you believe me by then. I’m too tired now. I can’t think….”
“All right.” Stupid, she told herself. Stupid to let an insane man stay the night. But she couldn’t turn him away, not with that pain in his eyes. She just couldn’t.
The relief in his face, in his eyes when he opened them again, was incredible. He pulled her closer, hugged her, rested his cheek in her hair. “Thank you, Jane,” he told her. “Thank you.”
She was, he mused, perhaps the kindest woman he’d ever known. She’d suggested he get some rest, expressed concern over his health before she retired to her bed. Truth to tell, he was more than a bit concerned himself. That memory lapse…and this incessant weakness, and the recurring vertigo… Coming through the doorway had altered him physically, and he still wasn’t certain of the extent of the damage. He’d fallen asleep instantly, and only awakened just now, to the sun rising high in the east. And he still felt exhausted and battered. His head ached intensely. But he had no time to waste lying in bed and waiting to recover. For all he knew, he might get worse, rather than better. Best, he decided, to get to work right away.
Work? But what work? What the hell could he do? Nothing, he realized slowly. Nothing but wait. He couldn’t return to his own time until the device had recharged. So for three days he’d be here, unable to do a thing to help his son.
It wasn’t hopeless. Merely a setback. He’d wait, and then he’d return. He’d return to the exact time whence he’d come. Benjamin’s condition would not have had time to worsen. And from there, Zach would simply start over. Make a few adjustments, and try again. In the meantime, there was very little he could do. His main task, it seemed, was proving himself to Jane, convincing her to let him remain right here, for there was no other place….
Yes. He’d have to convince Jane to let him stay. Fortunately, Zach thought, influencing reluctant females to his way of thinking was one of his areas of expertise. Second only to science, in fact. Or had been, once. He wondered briefly whether he could drum up enough of his legendary charm to sway her. He had to try. There was more at stake than conquest here. There was Ben. Benjamin was safe…for the moment. So Zach was free to pursue the matter at hand.
But first…
He glanced down at his rumpled clothing and wrinkled his nose. First a bath, and a change of clothes. His carpetbag still lay on the floor, where he’d dropped it when he first came through. So at least he had the most recent notes—torn hastily from his journal in case he might need them—a few basic tools, a change of clothes and some toiletries. He carried these with him into the bathroom down the hall, and then marveled at the wonders to be found there.
At first he wondered how he’d manage without a lamp or a candle. But then he recalled the electric illuminator in Benjamin’s—er, Cody’s—room, and searched the spot on the wall just inside the door, where the control for the other one had been. He found the switch, moved it, and the bathroom filled with light. Zach simply shook his head in wonder, and explored further. The tub was huge, with spigots fixed into it. Water, hot, as well as cold, ran into the giant shining tub at the touch of a knob. Far more advanced than his own bathroom had been, and his had been the very latest in technology. Judging by the force with which the water spewed from the spigots, he knew there must be more power behind it than mere gravity. The necessary, too, was sparkling-clean and water-filled. Warm air blew gently from a register low on the wall. He smelled no wood smoke. Something else was obviously heating the water, and the house, as well. The very essence of day-to-day living, he realized slowly, had changed. Drastically changed.
He ran water into the tub, and soaked for a long time as he tried to imagine what other advances he’d discover in this new era. Automobiles… Had they proved practical, or been a passing fancy, as so many of his colleagues had predicted? Had this new generation of humanity wiped out disease? Achieved world peace? And this woman, Jane, owning this house filled with modern wonders and raising a son all on her own. Was this common today? Zach frowned as he considered it. Something told him that nothing about Jane was common.
He’d kissed her. Yes, he’d been in the throes of some sort of delirium when he did it, but not so much so that he couldn’t recall every instant of that kiss. And her sleepy response to it. Her soft breath in his mouth, her hands splayed on his shoulders. She’d set a fire in him that he hadn’t felt in a very long time. Perhaps ever. Oh, there’d been passion between him and Claudia, one he suspected was based more on his own youth and energy than anything else. But they’d really had very little in common. And, of course, he’d learned later that he’d been no more than an amusing diversion to her. She hadn’t cared for him in the least. He’d been young, with little money and few prospects. She’d been married to a wealthy man, a woman of social standing who couldn’t risk it all by admitting
