A Whisper in Time (31 page)

“Indeed.” I smoothed my hands over the fabric against my hips. He had been correct; they were easier to pedal in. I was happy that I had tried them, and happy he’d noticed.

A quartet of cyclists pedaled up the incline, their gears clicking. They passed but didn’t glance our way. Perhaps we were hidden from view in this spot.

After spreading out the blanket, we sat down. He immediately grabbed the basket and pulled back the lid.

“Fried chicken?”

“Yes.”

“Perfect.” He peeled back lids on the other containers.

“Mark.” I stared straight ahead, arms wrapped about my knees. “Have you been on picnics before?”

“A lot.” He reached up to wrap a stray curl from my ponytail around his finger. “But…this is the first time I’ve been on a picnic
date
.”

That pleased me. “Do you know what happens on a picnic date?”

“Whatever you want.”

“I don’t know what I want.”

“No problem. I have plenty of ideas.” His fingers slipped to my cheek, cupped it gently, and turned me toward him. “Kiss me.”

I braced a hand on his chest, the muscle hard and smooth beneath the fabric of his shirt. Our mouths clung briefly and then released.

He smiled lazily at me. “That is official picnic behavior.”

“Indeed? Picnics involve kissing?”

“The two-person kind of picnic does.” He urged me back against the blanket. I shivered with anticipation and uncertainty, but all thought fled at the slide of his lips over mine.

The weight of his hand at my waist held me steady. Our legs entwined. I was surrounded by the warmth of his body. The cool of a pine-scented breeze. And hot, sweet kisses.

He groaned and broke away, his mouth trailing along my jaw to my neck. I drank in air, overwhelmed by the feelings he created.

Voices passed by on the greenway.

I grasped at the excuse. “Mark?”

He pushed up on his arms, gazing at me through half-closed lids. “Hmmm?”

“Can they see us?”

“Uh-uh.” He rolled to his back, pulling me along until I lay partially over him. “Babe. If making out is too much for you, we’ll stop.”

“And that will be acceptable?”

“You’re in charge. Always.” His lips twitched. “I won’t promise not to get grumpy, but better that than scare you off.”

“I am in charge?” I must be clear on this magical fact. “Even now?”

“Completely. Totally. Absolutely—”

I hushed him with a kiss.

* * *

It had been a glorious afternoon. I had not been so happy since I moved to this century. The time to leave came too quickly.

I packed our trash in the basket while he folded the blanket. We held hands and walked to our bikes in silence, both melancholy that our picnic date had come to an end.

While he secured our things, I stepped to the side of the greenway trail and watched a couple trudging up the incline, absorbed in each other. I felt a sense of communion with them. This was a beautiful place to be in love.

“Susanna, I know this question might sound crazy, but did you come to the game last night wearing my green hoodie?”

“Yes.” I looked up the trail, which rose above us before curving sharply around a stand of pines.

“Why?”

I turned to him and squinted. The sun was at his back, outlining him in a golden glow. “It was important to you.”

He came closer, his helmet dangling from his hand. “Did you want to see Gabrielle?”

“I most certainly did.”

“What did you think?”

I looked away, not entirely sure how to sort through the feelings I’d experienced. Perhaps I should make light of them. “I can understand why she wanted you for her escort. You’re quite handsome in a tuxedo.”

“You don’t need to be jealous of Gabrielle.” He hadn’t been fooled.

“It isn’t envy that I feel.” I took a step back and stumbled against the edge of the pavement.

There was a scream and the shriek of brakes even as I found myself jerked into Mark’s arms. We twisted and fell. His body took the full blow against the ground.

The bike whirred down the hill even as running feet pounded nearer.

Mark and I stayed in our tangled heap of limbs, breathing hard and in unison.

“Hello there! Are you two okay?”

Mark shifted under me and grunted. “I think so.”

“Mark?” a young man asked.

“Hey, Jesse, Benita.” There was welcome in Mark’s voice. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised to see you here, since you told me about it.” His hold on me loosened. “Meet Susanna.”

“Hello,” I said and turned to look up at them. “I am pleased to meet you.”

The couple stood at our feet, staring down, frozen with horror. I craned to see what they saw.

Realization hit me like a punch to the gut, even as Mark whispered in my ear, “Your pants are above your knees.”

Unbidden, moisture stung behind my eyes. I mumbled, “My scars.” What must they think of the thin lines mottling my calves? Or the shiny pink bands encircling my ankles?

“I’m sorry, babe.”

I slid off his body and landed on my bottom, unsure how to proceed.

Mark groaned. “Help her up, Jesse.”

His friend pulled me to my feet and then stepped back to his girlfriend’s side. I brushed debris from my pants, saddened by the sudden change. It had been a joyous day. The introduction to his friends should have made it even better. For the first time since I moved to this place, I had done normal things. Today, I’d been a girl with her boyfriend out on a date. Except that I had scars that demanded explanation.

“What happened to you?” Benita asked. Her boyfriend jabbed her with his elbow, but she didn’t look away.

Mark rose and stood beside me, his arm firmly around my waist, gazing down at me, his silence telling me the decision was all mine.

I’d never had to speak these words. Mark’s parents and grandparents had seen with their own eyes as they tended to my wounds. The explanation had come out slowly, piecemeal, in vague bits that his family had woven together on their own.

Today was different. If Jesse and Benita were to be my friends too, there must be truth—however harsh—between us. But how much would be enough? “My master thrashed me.”

“Your master?” Jesse asked, his gaze shifting to Mark.

“Susanna was enslaved.”

“Oh my god.” Benita’s eyes widened. “Like, human trafficking?”

Mark nodded. “More like a sweatshop, but close enough.”

She gasped. “He must’ve been a monster. Why did he do that?”

They were horrified—at Mr. Pratt, not me. “It was how he corrected my mistakes.”

Jesse and Benita said something in unison—a phrase I had never heard uttered in polite company.

“Yeah, really,” Mark said. His hand caressed my neck. “Although they weren’t always your mistakes.
Persuasion
was mine.”

It had been the first novel I’d ever read, and Mark had given it to me. I had loved reading that book, despite knowing the fury its discovery would unleash in my master. How could any of us have imagined that Mr. Pratt’s punishment that time would involve a hot skillet?

I looked into Mark’s face, into his beautiful amber eyes. “Mark, please. It was a wondrous gift. Do not
ever
express regret again.” Adoration swelled inside me like a living thing.

Benita held out both hands to me, palms up. She wore lace gloves whose fingertips had been snipped off. “Susanna.”

I set my hands in hers as we both took one step closer to the other. She was taller than I, with a lovely thin face and expressive eyes of the darkest brown. Right now, her eyes held shock and something else. Something that resonated sweetly and painfully inside me.

Releasing her hands, I turned to Mark almost blindly. When he wrapped me in his arms, I closed my eyes, overcome at the knowledge that I had shared my secret and had been offered sympathy in return. A new form of liberty.

Mark spoke in muffled tones with his friends, but I could not listen to the words. I only knew that, by the time I had recovered my bearings, they were gone.

C
HAPTER
F
ORTY
-T
WO

C
HOCOLATE
K
ISS

It poured on Sunday. The gutters became mini-rivers that created mini-fountains at the sewer grates.

Since I couldn’t be outside, I finally got to something I’d been putting off for a while—investigating colleges besides Virginia Tech and Brevard.

Mr. Rainey had suggested Duke. I would check it out, even if I remained more skeptical than he did.

NC State had good sports clubs, a ten-minute commute, and a gazillion stops on multiple bus routes. Susanna could get to me if I went to NCSU, but I really didn’t want to go there. It would have to be a last resort.

Raleigh had other universities, all private. I’d never been remotely curious about any of them. As far as my parents were concerned, showing a sudden interest in one of them would be too suspicious.

I needed to grow up about this. It was possible to travel home on the weekends from Brevard or Virginia Tech. Or she could come to me, if she ever got her license.

Newman was the
in-between
school. Smaller than Virginia Tech. Closer than Brevard. Good reputation. Great new mountain-biking coach. One thing was for sure. Newman was definitely on the list now. Yeah, perfect in every way, except that two-hundred-thirty mile drive.

I went to their website and clicked on
Admission Requirements
.

Damn. They required an essay and the prompt was painful:
Describe your greatest achievement
.

Why did colleges ask stuff like that? Most high school seniors were seventeen. After twelve years of attending school—a system that only worked well if we did exactly what they told us to do—what kind of achievements did colleges think we had?

Super-brilliant students had achieved interesting things.

Super-bad students had achieved interesting things.

Everybody else had to make stuff up. Actually, I had done something of huge value. My greatest achievement was rescuing an abused girl from the asshole who tortured her. Oh, yeah, and she was living in the eighteenth century at the time.

It was the best thing I’d ever done. It was the best thing I would ever do, and I couldn’t tell a soul.

The scent of warm chocolate tickled my nose. I twisted in my seat as Susanna entered the rec room on noiseless feet, a plate cradled in her hands.

She smiled at me, face flushed. Her hair hung down her back in a low ponytail, with wisps escaping to curl against her neck. She looked happy.

“I baked you a treat.” She set the plate carefully in my hand.

“It smells great.” The brownie was a tiny square, at least by my standards. Susanna still hadn’t figured out twentyfirst-century portion sizes.

“I tasted one first. It is delicious.” She sat cross-legged on a chair beside me. “What has given you this bemused look?”

I wolfed down the entire square in one bite and wanted more. “I’m thinking about applying to another college.”

“Which one?”

“Newman College.”

“Is it nice?”

“I’m not sure. I’ve never been there.”

Her brow scrunched up, like she was trying hard to take all of this in. “Do you not want to attend Virginia Polytechnic Institute?”

I controlled my smile. Susanna had been surfing the web. “It’s one of the places I’m considering.”

“Are you likely to be accepted?”

“I am.”

“Then why do you apply elsewhere?”

Because everybody did—which was an answer she would think was stupid. I needed a better one. “My guidance counselor recommended it.”

She watched me calmly, but her hands were clenched in her lap. “Where is this other college located?”

“Also in the mountains of Virginia.”

“How long would it take to drive there?”

“Four hours.”

“And the other one is about three?”

I nodded.

Understanding hummed through her body. I wouldn’t be here much longer. My first choice was far away, and I’d just told her my second choice was even farther. Unless I found a closer college that had everything I needed, this was how it was going to be. Right?

“When will you leave Raleigh?”

I set the plate down and then linked both of my hands with hers. “Next August. Ten months away. A lot can happen.”

She smiled shyly. “A lot can happen in two months.”

“I don’t want to be separated from you either.”

“By then, I shall have my identification. I will have options too.”

Susanna with options? I needed to wrap my brain around that. I’d been so focused on getting her an identity—and getting me into a college—that I hadn’t planned past either.

My phone buzzed on the desk. “Excuse me a second.” I extricated one of my hands, grabbed the phone, and put it on speaker. “Hey, Gabrielle. What’s up?”

“Did you take any photos of the last experiment?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“My images are all blurry. Could you forward what you took?”

Susanna stirred restlessly and tugged her hand from mine.

“Can you hold, Gabrielle?”

“Sure.”

Susanna had already stood and picked up the brownie plate. “I shall return to the kitchen,” she said, her voice low. “I have dishes to clean.”

“We’re not done, Susanna.”

“I know.” She leaned over me and kissed me—a hot, brief, chocolate kiss. “There are more downstairs.”

“What do you mean?” I didn’t know whether to laugh or groan. “Brownies?”

“Indeed.” She smiled before skipping down the steps.

C
HAPTER
F
ORTY
-T
HREE

A F
AR
D
IFFERENT
W
ORLD

The past week had been a joy. I gave back. I had cleaned, cooked, and cared for Norah and Charlie. I had completed a real, twenty-first-century job.

It was a pleasure to be useful, and I didn’t want to return to the days when I hadn’t been. Would there be more jobs for pay? Should I ask, even beg, for chores? Would it be proper to remind Sherri of her offer to find me a first-aid course?

This was not, however, the correct week to raise these subjects. Bruce had left today for another trip. There had been an emergency somewhere, but a quick one. Sherri had been angered by the news. Mark had shown a bit of wariness. The family was on edge. I would have to wait.