Time for Love (3 page)

“Very good.” It wasn’t. Could Miss Turner have ignored his edict to maintain strict silence on their mission? He cursed again. He’d deal with Miss Faraday if she became a problem. One more headache to deal with in this whole mess.

“Make sure surveillance is twenty-four seven. I want to know if Miss Turner goes anywhere. And make sure to intercept her if she makes any attempt to contact Miss Evans’s brother or Miss Faraday again. We don’t want him to make a connection between us and the disappearances.”

Sawyer hung up the phone.

Books on history—at least that’s a good sign
.

Despite all her words to the contrary, she was convinced. She’d go willingly.

Chapter Two

April 2 (57 Days to Murder)

Three days later, Alex found herself at a hotel near Griffin International Headquarters in Philadelphia, lingering in the shower. Water coursed down her body, and she hissed from the heat. Goosebumps covered her arms, and the skin of her stomach turned bright pink from the close-to-scalding water.

Of all the modern conveniences, she would miss hot and cold running water the most. Who knew how long before she’d have her next hot shower. She was determined to enjoy it, though thoughts of what she was about to do wouldn’t let her relax.

At least the shower cleared the cobwebs from her head. She shut off the cooling water and stepped from the tub. She wrapped one of the cheap, thin, white towels around her body and used another to dry her hair.

A glance at the clock reassured her the marathon shower hadn’t made her late, though why she should care she wasn’t entirely sure. They’d wait for her. After all, she was putting her neck on the line to save their asses. The least they could do was pamper her a bit before she left. She dropped the towel on the floor and walked to the closet to dress for her adventure.

After a restless night tossing and turning, she’d needed the extra long shower to wake her up. Now a feeling of excitement built within her. She knew it was crazy; she shouldn’t believe a word Sawyer had told her, but she did. She was about to take the trip of a lifetime. Her ordinary life was taking an extraordinary turn. Frightening as hell, but a part of her couldn’t wait to take that next step. In a few short hours, she’d be on her own in the nineteenth century trying to find her way to London without benefit of airplanes, on-line ticketing, credit cards, or any other modern travel convenience.

Weakness permeated her knees, and she stumbled over to the bed, sinking onto the rumpled comforter. She curled up onto her side, clutching the bedding to her stomach.
What the hell am I doing?

She rolled onto her back, her hand pressed to her temple, trying to still the kettledrums pounding in her head. What made her think she could do this? She wasn’t exactly the adventure type. Goosebumps rose on her naked skin as the air-conditioning kicked on, despite repeated attempts to turn it off. She couldn’t even manage that simple task! And she thought she’d be able to travel through time, save her sister from a gruesome murder and what, save the world? She was an idiot. She should call Sawyer right now and tell him she wasn’t going.

Instead, she got off the bed and pulled her clothes out of the closet. She stepped into her own bright pink striped panties, stuffed the matching bra into her overnight bag, and contemplated the clothes Sawyer had given her last night. She’d asked for boy’s clothes, and he’d provided them, even after arguing with her that it was a bad idea. She’d stood her ground. She was not putting on the fancy dress and corset he’d tried to hand to her. A corset for heaven’s sake!

Although what she had in front of her was pretty much the same thing, though it would have an entirely different effect. This version was supposed to downplay her assets rather than perk them up. And thankfully, it didn’t have that insane rod thing going down the middle like the real corset.

She picked it up and fingered the material—basic off-white cotton, nothing special. The padding was the key. The waist had about an inch of padding all the way around but flattened out on the bottom where it hugged her hips. It made her look a little chunky but also evened out her curves so she didn’t look like a woman. Alex hoped to pass for a teenage boy. She’d read enough historical novels to know women didn’t travel on their own. And were fair game if they did. She didn’t want to deal with that crap. She had enough on her mind.

Dozens of tiny hooks ran up the front, and it took her a full minute to fasten them all. When finished, she walked to the mirror to see the effect. And burst out laughing.

She looked ridiculous. Her breasts flattened, her waist expanded, and her bright pink underwear peeked out at the bottom. Smiling at her reflection, she considered removing the underwear but decided against it. Sawyer would have a fit if he knew, but damned if she’d show him. He’d have to take her word that she wasn’t smuggling any twenty-first century items into the past.

Speaking of which, she rummaged through her overnight bag until she found the crumpled up copy of the newspaper article reporting Charlotte’s murder. Confident that Sawyer didn’t realize she’d kept the copy, she planned on taking it with her.

Charlotte probably wouldn’t believe her when she appeared in the past with this crazy story. They might be sisters, but they didn’t know each other. Without any memories of their childhood, she had no idea what Charlotte was like. But she wanted to find out. That’s why she was going through with this no matter what. She’d find a way to get through it. She had to.

She smoothed out the crinkled folds of paper and folded it neatly before tucking it into a small pocket cut into the altered corset, next to a copy of the article about the fire that had killed her parents.

The hospital staff hadn’t wanted to give it to her, but when she’d woken from a nearly two-year long coma with only vague memories of her family, she hadn’t taken no for an answer.

For whatever reason, she couldn’t bear to leave it. It would be the only connection to her own time.

She scratched at her breasts, rethinking the decision to disguise her gender. Would she really fool anyone? She’d done an internet search and discovered women had disguised themselves to take on a man’s job, often remaining undiscovered until an accident revealed their gender. If they could do it, so could she. And from what she’d seen online, they weren’t punished when they were caught. In the navy, they were dismissed as soon as they made port. Since that’s all she wanted, what harm could it do?

She returned to the bed and picked up the linen shirt, pulling it over her head and fastening it up to her neck. The long, baggy garment dwarfed her frame, but when Sawyer had explained everything, he’d reassured her it was supposed to be that way. Convenient, since it would be easier to hide her figure that way. She was supposed to tuck the shirt around her in lieu of underwear. Yuck. She’d keep her own.

Pants next. These were baggy, too. A panel flapped open where the zipper would be, so she fastened the buttons on either side. She scratched at the itchy fabric. She’d better get used to it quick since she’d be wearing them all the time.

Sawyer had given her only one other set of clothes. Apparently, people didn’t have lots of extra clothing back in the day. She’d even have to sleep in them. Who knew if she’d need that extra set? Life on a nineteenth century ship didn’t afford a girl much privacy. With so few clothes and no shower, being around her would be less than pleasant.

Although, if she wanted to put a positive spin on it, lack of showering would probably discourage anyone from getting close enough to see past her disguise. She laughed wryly at herself and tugged on her boots.

Dressed in the unfamiliar clothes, she went through her gear for the hundredth time as she waited ’til it was time to meet up with Sawyer. She had insisted on keeping the bag with her once Sawyer had gone through everything last night.

She hadn’t wanted to give him the opportunity to screw with her supplies behind her back. Not that she had any reason to suspect he would, but trust didn’t come easy. Living on the streets as a teen had seen to that.

She had a warm wool coat, blanket, comb, soap, toothbrush and paste, and a small jar of suntan lotion. She’d insisted on the lotion even though it wasn’t historically accurate. Sawyer had had a fit before finding a jar she could put it in. But she’d be burnt to a crisp if she set sail without it, so she’d insisted.

She had enough food to last a few days. Nothing perishable and all of it wrapped in cloth rather than plastic or even paper bags. Something as simple as packing a lunch was complicated without all the small modern conveniences.

She filled a flask with bottled water from the mini bar and tucked it into her pack. She bent forward to fiddle with the knife tucked into her boot. Not particularly comfortable, but she’d have to get used to it. She’d questioned the need for it, but Sawyer told her it might come in useful. She didn’t want to think why.

She put two long gold chains around her neck with her family pendant, careful to make sure they weren’t visible beneath her shirt. She tucked some rings into an inside pocket of her pants. She’d cashed out her savings account to buy things she’d be able to trade for money in the past. Luckily, she hadn’t paid next semester’s tuition yet, or she’d have had nothing. Sawyer had given her a few coins, but she wasn’t going to rely on what he supplied.

Getting a fair price for the jewelry would be her first obstacle. Not being familiar with what they would be worth at the time, she would have a hard time negotiating.

She separated her heart from the rest and ran her fingers lightly over the inscription on the back.
We Love You, M and F
.

She’d been tempted to sell it once or twice over the years when times had been particularly tough and she’d no idea how she would pay for her next meal. She’d even had it appraised once and learned it was worth quite a bit of money. The appraiser had declared the ruby flawless and had made an offer to purchase it.

She’d never been able to do it. She couldn’t part with it.

The front had her name and on the back was the message from her parents. Except it wasn’t from her parents was it? Not really.

A perfect, tear-shaped ruby dangled from the bottom. Its deep red color and myriad facets reflected the light in a fascinating way that had gotten Alex through many a boring math lecture.

She’d always thought her parents had selected it personally for her because red was her favorite color. She’d cherished the thought.

The pendant felt cold as she dropped it back down under her shirt.

She jumped at the screeching of the alarm clock. Time to get up. And she’d worried she would oversleep.

Alex walked into the bathroom and flipped the switch. Her scissors lay where she’d left them by the sink last night. She couldn’t bring herself to cut her hair then, but she was out of time. She grabbed the scissors with one hand and grabbed hold of her hair with the other. With a deep breath, she focused on the ends of her hair and made the first cut. A huge hunk of brown hair fluttered into the sink. She cut off at least six inches. The ragged ends tickled her chin, and she forced herself to continue cutting. Soon, her hair covered the sink, and what was left on her head stuck out at odd angles like a fluffy pincushion.

It felt strange and light. She ruffled the base of her neck and turned her head from side to side trying to see if the ends were even. Not great, but if she continued she’d end up with a crew cut, and she didn’t need to go that short. It would have to do. She could still tie it back with a short length of leather. Tied back, no one would be able to see how uneven it was. They shouldn’t care anyway. The haphazard style would probably add to the impression she was a boy who wouldn’t care about such things.

She took one last look at herself in the mirror and put her hand to her hair. She missed the feel of long, flowing hair cascading down her back, but it was too much of a giveaway for her current disguise. This cut gave her a slightly unkempt look. She shrugged and, with a final scowl at the young man looking back at her, headed down to breakfast.

****

After breakfast and much too quickly for Alex’s peace of mind, they arrived at the portal. It wasn’t much. She could see how someone might walk right into it without noticing. There was simply a distortion in the air, similar to heat waves shimmering off a highway on a scorching-hot July afternoon.

“That’s it? You described it as a vortex or black hole. I was expecting more,” Alex whispered. Despite its inconsequential appearance, its presence reverberated deep in her bones, and she stared at it in awe.

“They were much more obvious the first few years. Since then, they’ve settled down like this.” Sawyer waved toward the distortion, obviously not as awestruck as she was. His voice rang out loud and clear in the small space, rattling her nerves.

She took a deep breath, almost time. “So, how does this work exactly?”

“You just walk right through. You’ll be a bit disoriented when you get there, so take time to sit and rest before you head out. Better to get settled a bit where no one can happen by. You’ll need this.” He handed her a lantern. “It’s pitch black on the other side, no lights.” He waved vaguely at the fluorescents above them.

“Once you feel ready, follow the tunnel to the surface, and walk down to the wharf. You remember the path we described?” After Alex nodded, he continued, “It will take you a few hours to walk it. Once there, you should book your passage right away, in case a ship is ready to depart. Ship captains or their business agents will probably be at one of the local taverns if they’re looking for passengers or workers. Many tend to do business that way. Ask at the docks for ships headed to London, and someone will direct you to a likely captain. You need to get to London ASAP if you’re to find Miss Evans in time, so don’t delay.”

“Right.” Alex took a deep breath. With a tight grip on her canvas bag and the lantern, she walked through the portal.

Chapter Three

Philadelphia

April 2, 1818 (57 Days Remaining)