Time Out of Mind (42 page)
Authors: John R. Maxim
Tags: #Horror, #General, #Psychological, #Suspense, #Memory, #Thrillers, #Fiction, #Time Travel
“
Of course. Would you like a dollar for the brandy?”
“
That won't be necessary, Tilden.”
It looks like Berlin at the end of the war, doesn't it,”
Gwen observed. She was looking out the car windows at
row after row of gutted tenement buildings along the Cross
Bronx Expressway. Most did not seem like slum dwellings
at all. There were red brick apartment houses, which looked
perfectly middle class, and one in particular, on a parklike
knoll, was faced with yellow brick and had pleasant terraces
at its corners. It must have been quite nice at one time, she
thought. But now it sits there looking back at you rather
like a dog who's been left at home and doesn't understand
why he's being abandoned.
“
This is the South Bronx,” Harry Sturdevant announced,
‘It's becoming a ghost town. Thousands of buildings like
these, many of them burned out.”
“
What happened?”
controlled apartments. When oil heat and electricity shot
up, their owners couldn't operate them at a profit and they
couldn't sell them because the area was deteriorating any
way, so they just abandoned them.”
Corbin, irritable, tried to shut out their voices. He'd
dozed off for a minute there and he'd had some kind of
dream, which he was losing now, but he knew it was about
something very exciting. He'd pulled off some great coup
or had a terrific idea that made him happy and excited.
“
Now it's New York's dumping ground,” Sturdevant
continued. “You'll see whole streets lined with abandoned
wrecks of cars. And massive brick piles where the city has leveled rows of buildings because they've been dangerously
weakened by fires. You watch, though. Ten years from now
this could be a garden spot. You'll see developers flattening
all this and starting from scratch because it's wonderfully
convenient to the city. But the first two or three will be like fortresses, I'm afraid. This area has one of the highest crime
rates in the world.”
one who was talking about developers. It didn't matter.
What was that about crime, though? What's there to steal
out here? Chickens? That fellow was right about the future,
though. Some day soon all these little farms will be gone
and the main roads paved and the elevated will reach all
the way out here from New York to create whole new vil
lages in this great empty space between Vanderbilt's railroad lines.
turned off the West Side Drive. She leaned forward until she could see his eyes. They were open, not glazed, just a
bit dreamy. She sat back, placing one hand on his shoulder
and idly massaged it. He grunted appreciatively. His left
hand reached back and gave her thigh an affectionate
squeeze.
“
You are a magician with those fingers,” Tilden mur
mured. He lay facedown upon the canopied bed, fully dressed but for his coat and tie, which he'd replaced
with
a red floor-length robe of Japanese silk. Margaret sat at his
side, upright, her long legs tucked under a white summer
dress that made her look like a bride. “They do wondrous things with piano keys; they turn stiff muscles into jelly,
not all muscles, of course, and they—”
“Why, Tilden Beckwith”—Margaret playfully slapped
his head—“that is the first racy remark I've ever heard you
make.”
.
I can't be blamed for it. I am bewitched. I am not the
man I was.”
As long as you're a happier man.” Her hands returned to his shoulders.
”
I am,” he said after the smallest pause. ”I am indeed.”
knew that as water rises in one place it must fall in another.
So it must be with Tilden's happiness. And her own. These
past two weeks, almost three, she had been living each day
only to pass the hours until the call finally came from Wil
kins that Tilden had arrived.
”
I did not ask if you were content, sir.” She poked him lightly. ”A pig having his back scratched with a stick is
content.” She brought her fingertips down until they
touched his ribs. ”I asked if you were happy. You must
reply in a happy manner or I will tickle it out of you.”
”
I warn you, woman ...” His left hand snaked free and
found her waist. “In all that time you spent practicing the
piano, I was learning to tickle. At the age of eight I bested
Fat Fannie Bumpus in two tickles flat and before I was ten
I—ouch.”
Margaret easily broke his grip and threw herself across
his back, at once burrowing both her middle fingers under
his rib cage.
“
It is no use,” he said, his face purpling. “See? I am
like stone. Job himself would envy my self-command.”
Bumpus is one thing. Mad Meg Barrie is quite another.”
A warm wet tongue darted into his ear as both fingers found
hidden nerves. Tilden screamed.
“
Yield,” she demanded.
“
That's a foul!” he roared. “An absolutely shocking
foul!”
“
Yield, I say.”
“
This won't be forgiven.”
“
Last chance, Tilden.”
”
I yield.”
“
On your word? No revenge?”
“
On my word, Margaret.”
She released him slowly, in steps. Then, satisfied that he
would not spring at her, she turned her attention to the straightening of her dress. It was a fatal error. “You promised,” she squealed as Tilden's mass rose up like a wrathful
bear and rolled across her body until both crashed loudly
to the floor. They wrestled desperately, each thrusting and
parrying with index fingers until they suddenly froze at a
sharp rapping on the door. Margaret struggled to her feet
and, patting her hair in place, ran to answer.
All is well, I take it.” Tilden heard Georgiana’s voice.
He imagined that both her hands were behind her back and
that there would be a blackjack or bung-starter in one of
them.
“
Yes, Georgiana,” he called, “just a bit of giddiness.”
“
It was a tickling fight.” Margaret laughed, breathing
hard. ”I won and he said there would be no reprisal but he
broke his word.”
“
No such thing.” Tilden came to her side. ”I gave my
word to Margaret. I gave nothing to Mad Meg Barrie.”
“
Deceiver,” Margaret charged.
“
Torturer!”
Urn.” Georgiana smiled helplessly and turned down
the hall. ”I can remember when this was such a quiet
house. So restful. I shall not miss either of you. Not a bit
of it.”
Margaret, giggling, eased the door shut. She turned to
ward Tilden. A curious expression on his face caused Geor
giana’ a last remark to register anew.
What did she mean, Tilden? That she would not miss
us?”
·
”
I was going to speak to you.”
for me?”
Not at all,” he answered quickly. “But I have prepared the way for you to make a decision. I have taken that lib
erty. Yes.”
“
What have you done?”
Come”—he reached for her hand—“sit and hear me
out.”
“
Tilden, what have you done?”
”
I have asked Georgiana to release you from any obli
gation she might consider that you have toward her. I had
to do that before I could ask you to leave here with me and
move into a proper set of rooms.”
“
As your mistress?”.
“
As my friend, Margaret. All affection between us grows
out of that.”
“
The answer is no, Tilden.” Margaret turned from him.
”I will not be a kept woman.”
Please hear me.” He stepped closer but did not touch
her. ”I am prepared that you may refuse me, but please hear me first.”
Margaret said nothing.
You have an account, in your name, at the firm of Beckwith and Company. It consists of several hundred
shares in each of three very safe businesses. Properly managed, it will provide you with an income which, while not
large, should keep you from ever being in doubt of food
or shelter. That stock transfer is irrevocable, Margaret. It is
done. You need do nothing in return for it.”
“
Nothing?’' There was doubt in her tone.
“
Nothing. You can tell me to step out of your life this
minute and I will be bound to do it. I have no power over
you.”
“
But you are confident I will not do so.”
“
It is my earnest hope.”
I can sell these shares and say
that``
—she snapped her
fingers—“for you?”
“
I'd advise that you keep them. But yes.”
“
What other arrangements have you made, Tilden?”
“
None.”
You have not prepared a love nest someplace? You have not chosen where I am to live?”
“
No. I knew that would insult you.”
“
When am I to leave here?”
“
When and if you choose.” Tilden took her by the
shoulders and guided her into a chair near the window.
Tilden had expected some amount of hesitancy. He was,
after all, proposing a major alteration in the way she lived
her life, but he was at a loss to understand the logic of resisting the prospect of being a mistress when Margaret
had come within a hair's breadth of entering a life of prostitution. He'd taken Georgiana at her word that Margaret
would not leap at his proposal—she said one thing has
nothing to do with the other—but he did not understand it.
He did, however, accept Georgiana’ s advice that he guarantee Margaret's independence and that he impose no con
ditions. Expensive advice. Five thousand worth of Eastman
shares for Georgiana’ s blessing and another ten of Eastman,
New York Elevated, and Sears and Roebuck for Margaret's
account.
‘‘
What are you thinking, dear Margaret?”
I don't know.” She dabbed at her eyes. “My head is
whirling.”
God knows I wish I were free to—” He stopped him
self. He was about to suggest that he might ask her to be
his wife were it not for Ella. He would want to marry her. Truly. But in the end it would be impossible. “Although I
have made no arrangements concerning your—our—future,
I have had an idea or two.”
She looked up at him, silently.
“
The first thing we must do is find you some respectable
lodgings. Sunday. We'll do that Sunday. I'll get some list
ings and we'll go look at them together until we find a
place that suits you just so. For the sake of discretion I
thought I might represent myself as your lawyer and you
as the young widow of an influenza victim. If I am your
lawyer, it would not be taken amiss when I begin to call
on you often. If you wish, you can change your name as
well. You will begin an entirely respectable new life.”