Page 20 of Christmas Past
Seth glanced around. “Sure looks like it to me,” he replied. “But when, exactly? We knew it looked like this when we landed here in 1947, but I don’t think we ever found out for sure when the woodwork got painted over.”
Good question. When we showed up on that Halloween afternoon in 1947, we’d been so preoccupied with figuring out how to get Ruby back after she was kidnapped by Jasper Wilcox, the Wilcox primus of the time, that we hadn’t really stopped to ask questions about the bungalow’s decor. And since we knew the little house had been empty for a while, I doubted there were any personal items inside that would help us identify the date, like letters or even a calendar.
“Well, we’ll figure it out,” I said. “Based on the way the house looks, I think we’re in the right general area. Time-wise, anyway.”
“You should sit down,” he told me after taking a good look at my face. “Let me get you some water.”
Yes, that sounded like a very good idea. The utilities had been on when Seth and I stayed here in 1947, so I had to hope the family had kept things running despite the bungalow standing empty for so long.
He went into the kitchen, and a moment later, I heard the reassuring sound of water pouring into a glass. So at least we didn’t have to worry about not having water and electricity.
Not that I planned on staying here any longer than strictly necessary.
Seth came back into the living room and pressed the glass of water into my hands. Face still tense, he said, “You can’t keep doing this. Each jump has been worse than the last.”
That was an understatement. Those uncontrolled jumps had been far more draining than anything I’d ever experienced before, and now I felt almost empty, as if something essential had been burned out of me.
I could only hope it hadn’t been burned away forever.
“I do need to rest,” I admitted, then took a careful sip of water. Even that simple action required concentration so I wouldn’t dribble the liquid all down my chin. “Maybe an hour or two. Then I can try again.”
“No.” Seth’s voice was firm enough that I knew there wasn’t much point in arguing with him. “Not until you’ve recovered properly. A few hours isn’t going to be enough.”
I wanted to protest, but even just sitting there on the sofa seemed to take most of my remaining strength. The thought of attempting another jump anytime soon made nausea roil my stomach. No, my body was telling me in no uncertain terms that I’d pushed it far beyond its limits, and ignoring those warnings would be foolish…if not fatal.
“How long, then?” I asked, even though I dreaded the answer.
“I don’t know. Days, maybe. However long it takes.”
No way. We couldn’t stay in 1947…or whenever we were…for days. We could have already disrupted the timeline enough with our brief Christmas visit to 1926. Staying longer might make things worse, create more ripples that could cascade through the years and possibly change the future we’d worked so hard to create for ourselves.
“Seth, we can’t — ”
He cut in at once. “We can, and we will.” He sat down beside me and took my hands again, his touch gentle but at the same time unyielding. “Look at yourself, Devynn. You’re barely conscious. If you try to jump again now, you might not survive.”
The fear in his voice was unmistakable, and it scared me more than my own exhaustion. Seth had always been the steady one, the one who stayed calm in a crisis. He’d faced down bootleggers and villainous Wilcoxes and magical amulets without losing his composure. If he was worried enough now to let it show like this….
“What if we change something?” I asked, voicing the fear that wouldn’t leave my mind. “What if our being here affects our timeline in the future?”
“Then we’ll deal with it,” he said. “But I’m not going to let you kill yourself trying to get us home.”
I understood his logic, but the possible ramifications of our remaining here for longer than a few minutes or even a few hours still terrified me. We’d already seen how much damage one person could do by being in the wrong time – all you had to do was look at what Jasper Wilcox had almost accomplished in 1947, thanks to the way we’d distracted the McAllister clan with our unexpected arrival, giving him a chance to snatch Ruby away in a kidnapping that had been foiled in what I thought of as the real timeline, the true one. We were complete anachronisms, walking contradictions who had no business being in 1947 again.
What would we screw up this time?
But as I sat there, feeling the exhaustion settle into my bones like lead, I had to admit that Seth was right. Another jump attempt right now would probably kill me, and if I died, he’d be trapped in the 1940s forever. At least if we stayed for a few days, there was a chance I could recover enough to get us home.
“Just a day or so,” I said, trying to convince myself as much as him. “Only until I can get my strength back.”
“Rest,” Seth said softly. “I’ll figure out everything else.”
I felt him adjust one of the spare pillows on the sofa behind my head, heard him walking around the bungalow, but it all seemed to be happening from a great distance. Sleep pulled at me with the relentless tug of a black hole, and despite my fears about staying in the wrong time, I couldn’t fight it anymore.
Through half-closed eyes, I saw him standing by the window, looking out at the Jerome of the 1940s with an expression I couldn’t quite read. Worry, certainly, but something else, too. Something that looked almost like resignation, as though he was telling himself that we would stay here forever if that was what it took to keep me from killing myself as I tried to get us back to the twenty-first century.
The last thing I remembered was wondering if we’d ever make it home, or if we were doomed to be temporal refugees forever, jumping from one time to another without ever finding our way back to where…to when…we belonged.
The darkness took me before I could find an answer.
