Out of Time (9 page)

“That’s not the point.”

“I am actually,” she said, leaning one elbow on the windowsill. “Afraid of heights. Not really in the ‘oh, I’m gonna fall’ kind of way. More in the ‘oh, I sort of want to jump’ kind of way. Nutty, huh?”

“Yes, now come inside.”

“All right, don’t get your knickers in a twist,” she said, putting a leg inside. Simon held her forearm and tried not to look at the smooth skin of her thigh as she clambered back into the room.

“I’m in. Happy?”

“Thank you,” he said. They stood awkwardly for a moment. Simon realized he was still holding onto her and quickly let go. Needing something, anything to purge himself of the image of her very shapely leg, he gave the fire escape a cursory inspection. “Rusted, shoddy construction. I should speak to the management about it.”

He stayed looking out the window for a long moment, before summoning the courage to turn and face her again. The pause did him little good. She looked as charming as ever.

“Perhaps we should go to sleep,” he suggested. “It has been a trying day.”

“Not really tired anymore. Bath gave me a second wind.”

“Did it?” he said, hoping he didn’t sound as anxious as he felt. He looked around the room, desperate for a distraction.

“How about a game of cards?” she asked.

“Since you insisted on wasting our money on them,” he said raising an eyebrow at her, and then realizing he sounded far more irritated than he was, added, “I suppose we should put them to use.” He gestured toward the table.

She walked over to the bureau and picked up the pack. “A deck of cards is one of life’s necessities.”

He wasn’t sure about that, but at least they were a safe diversion.

She sat down opposite him and opened the deck. “So, blackjack or strip poker?”

Simon nearly choked as libidinous images flashed through his mind. With the little she had on, it would only take a hand or two. He massaged his temple, trying to rub the thoughts away.

Elizabeth laughed. “I’m only joking. You do know how to play cards, don’t you?”

“Of course. I went to boarding school.”

“Of course,” she said with a smile. Settling the cards in her hand, she shuffled them once, then again with a bit more flair. A waterfall shuffle and a skilled fan were followed by a few more difficult flourishes. He arched a questioning brow, surprised and impressed.

She shrugged and performed another impressive flourish. “Daddy taught me well.”

She cut the cards one-handed, but the top stack slipped. Her forehead wrinkled in a thoroughly endearing scowl. “Damn hands,” she muttered.

She held them out, palms up and frowned at them. “Too small.”

Simon had always secretly admired her hands. They were small, even for a woman her size, but he thought they suited her well. They were delicate, almost fragile, but there was strength there too. In his weaker moments, he’d wondered what it would be like to hold them.

“Daddy said I could have been one hell of a gambler if it weren’t for them,” she said with a wistful smile. “But there’s one thing a card player never has. A small hand.”

“Your father was a gambler?” Simon asked. She’d never offered much about her family.

“With a friend named Fun Tony, you have to ask?” she teased, and then she sighed. “He was. Just not a very good one.”

“I’m sorry.”

She smiled again, but there was sadness behind her eyes.

“Don’t be,” she said. “He was good at the important things.” She set the deck down on the table. “How about a little gin rummy?”

Simon wanted to know more, but was willing to let her tell him in her own time. “Gin it is.”

She dealt the cards with a quick, smooth hand.

“Ya know, I’ve been thinking,” she said.

Simon hmm’d as he picked up his cards and arranged them.

“Why here? Why now?” she continued.

Simon looked at her questioningly.

“I mean, why was the watch set to go here? Now? Do you think your grandfather was planning to come here himself?”

Simon put his cards down on the table and toyed with the edges, lifting them slightly, only to let them fall again. “Perhaps. It’s also possible he’s already come and gone.”

Elizabeth nodded, but frowned. “But why here and now? The other trips he took sounded like they had special attractions—death eaters, anthropomorphs. Occulty stuff.”

Simon’s brow knit together and he leaned back in his chair. “Yes. I had wondered about that.”

“Do you think there’s something here he was going to study? Like zombies at the Palladium or yeti cab drivers?”

Simon rolled his eyes at her absurd suggestions, but the idea behind them was far from absurd. Granted, he’d spent his life looking for evidence of proof of the occult—that golems or vampires or the fae really existed—and had come up with not one shred of credible evidence. But that had been before he’d been thrown back in time by a pocket watch. If the legends his grandfather had told him were true, there was no telling what might exist here, or anywhere, for that matter.

“I doubt we’ll ever know,” he said. “Even if there is something…otherworldly here, New York is a big city and the odds of us stumbling across it…”

Elizabeth leaned forward, her smile growing. “But it’s possible.”

“Anything, I suppose, is possible,” he conceded.

Her grin grew impossibly wider, seeming to take his statement as firm agreement with her wishful thinking. “I never thought I’d hear you say that, Professor.”

He cleared his throat and picked up his cards. “Possible does not mean probable.”

She leaned back, but her smile didn’t falter. “But you never know.”

Simon gestured toward the cards and they began their game. A comfortable ease in companionship and gentle sparring made the hours slip by without notice, until, in the end, Elizabeth and fatigue finally won out.

They removed their rings and set them on the nightstands. Smitty had warned them that the fake gold would turn their fingers green if they didn’t. The tension from earlier in the night returned, as they slid under the covers, each too aware of the other.

Once Elizabeth was asleep, Simon rolled onto his side and saw the moonlight reflect off the fake gold of his wedding band. It was eerily familiar somehow. A ring caught in the moonlight. He closed his eyes and tried to place the memory, but each time he almost grasped it, it slipped away. The uneasy feeling lingered and carried him to a night of fitful sleep and taunting dreams.

The next few days were spent much as the first, in a vain search for employment. Block after block they walked, hoping to see a help wanted sign in a window. They asked for leads at various stores, but very little was forthcoming. One job was going to be hard enough to find, but two was looking downright impossible. The late afternoon sun started to fall behind the taller buildings and sent long shadows stretching down the street.

A man at the haberdashery had suggested they try closer to the Bowery, so they decided to take a short cut over to Canal Street and try their luck there. A group of children huddled in the middle of the street arguing. Barely visible among them was a small priest. His face was shiny with sweat, and he mopped his brow as he tried to settle the boys down.

“Now, Jimmy,” he said with a delightful Irish lilt. “If your toe’s not touchin’ the base there’s not much chance you’re safe, now is there?”

A pimple-faced boy scuffed his shoes on the pavement and pointed toward a dirty shirt on the ground. “But he yanked the bag away!”

“Who’s the umpire here?”

“You are,” the boys chorused in what was obviously a trained response.

“That’s right, I am. And what I say goes. And I say you should get back to playin’ ball before this old priest melts in the sun.”

The boys reluctantly agreed and went back to their positions in the street.

“And you were out by a mile, Jimmy,” the priest added with a wink.

Elizabeth and Simon stood on the sidewalk with the priest as the stickball game resumed. It was nice to watch something so normal, so human, regardless of the time. She caught the priest’s eye and he bowed his head in greeting. He looked like he’d fallen off a charm bracelet. No more than five foot two and with hair that swooped back from his forehead in gray waves, he was Barry Fitzgerald incarnate.

“They’re a lively bunch, but they keep me young. Name’s Father Cavanaugh,” he said extending his hand for a shake. “I don’t think I’ve seen you two around before. New in town?”

Elizabeth grinned. “Does it show?”

His bright, pale blue eyes crinkled at the edges. “A little.”

“My name’s Elizabeth and this is Simon, my husband,” she added quickly.

“Father,” Simon said and took the priest’s hand.

“I don’t suppose you know of any jobs available in the neighborhood?” Elizabeth asked.

The father tugged on his ear in thought. “Not off the bat, no. But I’ll be sure to ask around. I’m over at St. Patrick’s,” he said. “If you need a little hand.”

“Thank you, Father. That’s very kind of you.”

“You’re very welcome,” he said before his attention was pulled back to the game. “Now, Vincent, none of that! We play a clean game or we don’t play at all.” He walked out into the street and was once again lost in the crowd of children.

“We still have time for a few more blocks before it gets dark,” Simon said.

“Right. Once more unto the breach.”

Elizabeth wiped a bead of perspiration from her forehead and sighed. “I don’t know about you, but I could use a drink.”

“A little early for that, isn’t it?”

“I meant a soda,” she said.

He looked almost chagrined, but covered it with a frown. “Why don’t you rest for a moment in the shade. I’ll get us something.”

Elizabeth smiled gratefully and walked over into the shade. She watched Simon disappear down the block into a small grocer’s. Leaning against the brick wall, she closed her eyes. At this rate, they were going to run out of money long before they ran out of time.

“What am I supposed to do now?” she heard a deep, gruff voice say.

Elizabeth glanced over and saw a large, brawny man talking to a pretty little red-head. The woman smiled up at the older man. “I’m sorry, Charlie. We didn’t plan it, but…” her voice trailed off as she placed a hand over her stomach.

Charlie smiled wistfully. He looked like a bear, barrel-chested with a belly to match. “He take good care of ya?”

“The best. I know I’m leavin’ ya in the lurch, but Tommy’s kinda old-fashioned. Specially now I’m in a family way and all.”

Charlie shook his head. “Don’t know what I’ll do without ya, Viv. Where am I gonna find another girl like you?”

Viv grinned and laughed. “We’re everywhere.” She looked around the street. “See there’s one right there,” she said pointing at Elizabeth.

Elizabeth quickly looked away and pretended she hadn’t been blatantly eavesdropping. Was fate really dropping this in her lap? Maybe things were finally turning around for them.

Charlie laughed. It was a rich, wonderful sound. “You’re a pip.”

“I hate to do it to ya, Charlie, but I gotta go. Thanks for everything,” she said sadly and went up on tiptoes to kiss his cheek.

Charlie cleared his throat and blushed. “Go on. Go home. And take care of yourself, ya hear?”

“I’ll see ya around, Charlie,” she said, turned and walked down the street.

Charlie watched her for a moment and shook his head. He turned to go back inside when he took another look at Elizabeth. He gave her the once-over and smiled.

“Don’t suppose you’re lookin’ for a job, are ya? I got girls havin’ babies and…” He shook his head and waved his big, meaty hand in defeat. He turned and reached for the door.

“Wait,” Elizabeth said. “I am.”

“Are what, honey?”

“Looking for a job.”

He smiled and looked her over again. He walked toward her and sized her up quickly. “You’re pretty enough. Ever wait tables?”

She hesitated and decided to lie. “Sure.”

Charlie saw right through her. “I ain’t got time for nobody green.”

“I’m a quick learner,” she said. This was their first job offer, and she wasn’t going to let it slip by. “If you give me a chance, you won’t be sorry.”

Charlie cocked his head to the side. “Turn around.”

Elizabeth knew she should have felt uneasy, but there was something gentle in his eyes. Some people just feel right, and Charlie was one of them. His face was big and round, with jowls like a hound dog that shook when he laughed. He seemed the sort of man you could lean on, good broad shoulders to cry on and big, brawny arms to hold you up. His shirt was wrinkled and she could see crude patch jobs at the cuffs. A bachelor if ever there was one. She trusted him instinctively and turned around as he asked.

“What’s a doll like you doin’ hanging around here?”

“I’m waiting for my…husband.”

Charlie’s face fell with disappointment and he looked like he regretted what he had to say next and Elizabeth had a feeling she would, too.

“Married, huh?” Charlie said with a shake of his head. “Well, best of luck to ya.”

He moved to walk away, but Elizabeth grabbed his arm. “Wait.”

“Husbands. Don’t go over so good. I got enough problems,” he said and gently lifted her hand from his arm.

“It is just waiting tables, isn’t it?” she asked.

“I run a clean joint,” he said obviously affronted. “No funny stuff in my place.” He looked her up and down again. “I don’t know.”

She wasn’t out of the running yet and hope bloomed, so she tried again.

“I really need a job. We’re new here, and we’re kind of running out of money. And don’t worry about my husband. He’s very forward thinking.”

“I don’t know.”

“Please?” She put on her best pout. Charlie frowned, but she could see she’d gotten to him.

“I always did have a soft spot for dames in trouble. All right,” he groused. “We’ll give ya a try.”

Elizabeth was so excited she stepped forward and pulled him into a hug. “Thank you!”

“And your husband. You sure he won’t mind?” Charlie asked.

“Positive.”

Charlie looked over her shoulder and his expression darkened. “Cause he looks like he minds.”