The Time Seekers (The Soul Seekers Book 2) (11 page)

I ran to the front door, pulling my heels on with quick shoves, but stopped mid-left foot. Pauline was there in the foyer, and in her right hand dangled the keys to the car. She came off as smug as if she’d caught a rat with her bare hands. “I figured out what you’re up to,” she sang, quiet enough so no one in the next room would hear.

I wanted to rip them from her fingers and give her a good, hard smack. “Give me those keys, Pauline.”

“No, I don’t think so. Not until you promise you’ll help me get out of here.”

Why did she have to make things so complicated? Even before I was born, she was ruining things, making my life more difficult than it had to be. Gritting my teeth, I said, “I can’t promise you anything. But I’ll try. If you just give me those keys, I’ll try. All right, Pauline?”

She gripped her fingers around loose metal and squeezed tight. After a long moment of deliberation, she shoved them into my chest in such a harsh manner I had to fumble to catch them before they fell to the floor. “Fine. But I’m on to you.” Her eyes narrowed and her chin tilted up. “I know what your secret is. I figured it out.”

I gave a shrug, dropping the heel of my left foot into a black leather pump. “I don’t really care. I don’t have any secrets worth keeping.”

“Yes, you do,” she sang out again. Then she gave a giggle before leaving the foyer.

I stood for the longest time, staring at Gran’s gilded vase she once told me came from a Montgomery Ward catalog. I didn’t want Mother to know about the baby, if this was the secret she alluded to. It was precious to me, and she’d try to ruin it somehow. Grandmother Carrie could know, but not
her
.

¤ ¤ ¤

I pulled up to a row of storefronts on Main and careened my way into a diagonal parking space. Grandpa’s Chevrolet was like a Titanic on wheels; parking was similar to pulling into a dock. I moved the steering wheel shift into park, slid the keys from the ignition, then sat back with a heave. The day had grown so hot I had sweat running down my back and far below. Women were supposed to wear girdles? No, thanks. Although, watching the women who walked by the car’s open windows, I could see the appeal: perfect rear ends with no sign of cellulite or paunchy middles. Their waists were so tiny you could wrap your hands around them. Still, I liked breathing, and it might hurt the baby to wear a girdle. It was bad enough that I had to wear the pencil skirt, with its slim belt and no more grooves to make room for an expanding belly.

While checking myself in the rearview mirror to see if my chignon was still in place, I noticed a set of dark under-eye circles. “What am I
really
doing here?” I said to myself, then grabbed my handbag and slid out of the car.

A small crowd of people moved past with deliberate steps. It reminded me of the scene William had described in the dusty library, when I’d gotten my first glimpse of his world. Men wore trousers, summer shirts and felt hats; women were pretty in calf-length cotton dresses puffing out at the waist. And hats,
always
hats.

Fanning myself, I made my way to the town square. I checked the gazebo, but aside from a few spent bottle rockets and paper cups from last night’s festivities, it was empty, and the briefcase wasn’t anywhere to be seen. I checked park benches, under trees, by the water fountain. Nothing. A man selling balloons came walking by, and I stopped to ask if he’d seen it. He continued to walk without giving an answer.

A woman in a light green jumper headed toward me, holding a child’s hand.

“Excuse me, Miss, have you seen a brown leather briefcase around here? It’s just a regular old briefcase—about this big.” I held my hands out.

She answered “no” quickly, and then ushered her little boy ahead.

“Someone has to know where it is,” I said to their retreating backs.

Was something wrong with me? I’d followed all the magazines, and William himself had said I looked good enough to fit in. I stopped to take a drink at the water fountain. Perhaps Springvale had always been this frigid and impenetrable. Or maybe the cult had already gotten their hooks into people’s minds. Whatever it was, I couldn’t get one person on the street to speak to me. Before long, I gave up altogether.

I tried the police station. They told me to check at the post office, and the post office told me to check the police station. Everyone was very rude, and by the time noon rolled around, the blisters on my feet were forming into bloody gobs of searing pain, and my patience was on its last fuse.

Handbag held over my eyes for a brief respite from the sun, I scanned the entire square in the hopes something might give me a clue where the briefcase could be located. If only I could access my intuition like the old days, this whole ordeal would be so much easier. I closed my eyes and tried to allow an image of the item to enter my brain. “Where are you?” I whispered. When I opened my eyes again, the first thing I saw was the Springvale Railway Station, a crumbling shack down by the filling station.

“Bingo.”

I headed straight for it, excited that I might have ended one problem in my life (because there were so many) and also because I had used my powers again. There was hope. I could do this!

Once inside, I stood by a ticket window and waited for a clerk. A young man with baby-fine hair sticking out from under a navy blue cap approached. He was gaunt and pimply, but I was very excited to see him. I knew the briefcase was nearby. I’d get it, the gun, and everything would work out right. William would see all his things and remember who he was, and who I was, and then we’d go home. Who cared about Marcus? Together, we were stronger than him. We could protect ourselves; prevent him from harming the baby. But we’d do it at home, in our time, together.

“You need something, ma’am?” the young man asked.

“Yes.” I was almost too giddy. “Yes, I believe there’s a brown leather briefcase somewhere in here. It’s been misplaced. Well, not misplaced. I lost it. I can be so
stupid
sometimes.” I searched his empty expression. “I bet it’s right there in that back room of yours. Would you check, please?” I reached in my handbag for the fabric handkerchief William had given me—the one with little blue flowers printed on it. Sweat ran down my face, in my eyes and my hairline. It itched and dripped.

He sniffled, then wiped his nose with a calloused finger. “I ain’t seen no briefcase.”

“Oh, but, it has to be in here somewhere. If you’ll just check.” To think, only a day ago I was in a blizzard. It almost made me laugh. Who’d even believe I’d gone back in time? I should have brought a camera, so I could take pictures. I’d show them to Max and then sit back to watch his shocked expression.

“Nope. I done checked everything this morning, and I never saw no briefcase.” The clerk sniffed again, clearing his throat of a large mass of phlegm.

“Can you check again?” I maintained a civil tone, but wanted to snip at the young man. Everyone in town needed to read a customer service manual. Was it too much to ask for a little politeness? “Please?” I asked, managing a smile.

He peered over his shoulder and then back at me. It appeared he was worried about an older clerk who was in a nearby cubby stamping papers. The clerk didn’t seem to notice our exchange, so the young man gave a shrug and said, “All right, I’ll check.”

“Thank you.” There, see? A civil exchange. And now I’d get the briefcase, and the gun, and I’d go straight to William and dump the entire thing at his feet.

Five suffocating minutes later, the clerk returned empty-handed. “Sorry, ma’m, it ain’t there.” He had a smug expression, and removed his cap momentarily to swipe at his forehead with the cuff of his uniform. “You need anything else?”

“I need that briefcase,” I snapped.

The older clerk glanced up from his papers, and the young man flushed. “I told you, it ain’t there. If it ain’t there, it ain’t there. Do you want to buy a ticket or something?”

“No, I don’t want a ticket.” I took a deep breath. “Can I go back and look?” I pleaded with wide eyes, trying to reach into his heart. Unfortunately, I couldn’t get past his unblinking hazels. “It’s very important that I find it.”

The older clerk rose out of his chair and came to the window. He wore a black silk vest which barely covered his protruding belly, and slacks held up by suspenders. His leather loafers click-clacked all the way across the wooden floor. “What’s the problem here?” he said. A pair of faded blue eyes scanned me up and down.

“The problem,” I said, ignoring how the man’s eyes had settled uncomfortably at my chest area, “is that I need to find a briefcase, and I believe it’s here. But this young man says it isn’t. Maybe you haven’t ever heard of this little motto, but where I come from the customer is always right. If you’ll just let me back there, I think I’ll be able to find it. I’ll only take a few minutes, and then I’ll leave. Please?”

The man cleared his throat. It appeared as if he were trying not to laugh. His hand fell onto the clerk’s shoulder and patted a few times. “Well, now, I trust this boy, and if he said he searched and it ain’t there, then it ain’t there.” The young man beamed at the older man, and then shot a smirk in my direction.

I bit my tongue.

What could I do? Run back there and risk having them chase me down? My intuition wasn’t very strong. Maybe I had only wished the briefcase was there out of desperation. A line formed behind me, and it was hot in the train station. I stood at the counter forever trying to make up my mind.

“All right,” I said, surprised at how calm my voice sounded when it came out. “Could I at least write down my name and a place for you to reach me, in case the briefcase does end up being found?”

I grabbed a small pad of paper and a short nub of a pencil and wrote down my name and Gran’s address. I tore it off and gave it to the young man. “It’s very important. There might even be a reward.” I thought of all the money William had given me and calculated how much it would cost to sway the young man.

He sniffled and stared at the note. I watched him stick it into the front pocket of his uniform. “I’ll keep an eye out fer it,” he said, but he wasn’t very convincing.

Outside again, I made my way toward the post office to get a quick sip of water from a drinking fountain. It tasted so good, so pure. Modern day water had a blandness to it. This water tasted like it’d come straight from the river, and was cold as a river, too. Lips still attached to the spigot’s stream, I caught sight of a familiar figure heading into the drugstore across the way. I straightened as his last bit of cuffed Levi’s disappeared behind the front glass door. Absentmindedly, I rubbed a hand across my dripping mouth.

He was wearing the same ratty leather jacket, despite the terrible heat. I squinted to see his tall silhouette moving past a colorful display of cat-eye Esquire sunglasses and Motorola radios, both
perfect for the beach.

He crept through the aisles, searching for some object but never picking anything up. He appeared nervous. I saw him glance toward the front register several times. After a bit of deliberation, he snatched out at something and quickly shoved it into a side pocket. A few minutes later he did the same thing again, eyeing the register with caution. From what I’d been able to catch, the items were a packet of gum and a chocolate bar. Hardly worth the jail time if he happened to get caught.

He headed for the exit, and I leaned into the fountain and pretended to take another drink. Cold water shot into my ear, but it felt good.

The next place he visited was the hardware store. I couldn’t help it—I had to follow. He didn’t pickpocket this time; he bought nails and a new hammer and paid straight out at the front register with a few crumpled dollars drawn from the back pocket of his jeans.

I watched as he leaned over the counter to speak to the store owner, making a motion like he had an invisible broom in his hands. The man, wearing a white apron and tan slacks, shook his head. William hung around the counter for another few minutes. When he glanced out the window and saw me there outside, his shoulders squared and his eyes narrowed. He grabbed the hammer, his change, then inserted everything into his back pocket with a hard shove.

A few seconds later, he was outside with a heavy scowl on his face. He approached the drinking fountain and me like a speeding freight train, and I turned away as if I hadn’t seen him. It was impossible
not
to see him. My stomach twisted. Perspiration began to trickle under the sheer fabric of my blouse.

His footsteps skidded. He yanked hard on my shoulder to twist me around.

“Following me? After I told you not to show that face of yours again? You got a lot of nerve, little girl.” He moved closer, and my breath caught short. I felt a wall of hot brick hit my back. It scraped and gritted into the bare skin of my forearms. I had nowhere to go. His eyes pierced mine, stripping away every bit of confidence I had left inside. While I stammered, he leered.

William placed his arm above me, palm resting on the wall. With his other hand, he pulled out a cigarette and lit up, all the time with those blue eyes beating down into mine.

“What do you want from me?” he finally said.

“Nothing.”

“You came in my room last night.” His eyes scanned down to my chest and rose again.

I shrugged, defiant now.
My
William would never stare at me like that.

“You must got some reason.”

Again, I shrugged. It was unbearably hot under his arm and with his body so close. I was wilting like an orchid. The sun cooked down on both of us.

He shifted. “Listen, I told you, I’m getting out of this place, so whatever you got with me, whatever it is you want, I ain’t your man. Anyways, who says I’d want to be with you? Sure, I was in for a short while last night, but no more, honey.” He scratched his neck a few times. “There is something I wanted to ask you, though. Where’d you really get all that money?” He raised an eyebrow. “Hmm?”

It was hard to think. He resembled my William—every pore of his skin was familiar to me, to my heart. I wanted to wrap my arms around him and forget everything. “You gave it to me,” I said. “In a different time.”

“I did, huh?”

“Yes.”

People passed by, and William glanced over his shoulder to size them up. After they left, he turned to me again. “Still playing that game,” he said under his breath. He took a few more drags of cigarette before tossing it down and crushing it with his boot heel.