Timeless (21 page)

Michele’s face fell. “That’s what I was afraid of. But—”

“Wait,” Caissie interrupted. “I knew
you
believed it, I knew it wasn’t a joke you were playing on me or anything, so I was
tempted to talk to you about … you know, talking to a professional, getting help, that sort of thing. But I never did, because there was something in the back of my mind that I just barely remembered that made me wonder if you were right. You know how you can have a name on the tip of your tongue and not be able to remember it? Well, that’s what this was, and I only remembered it last night. That’s where our boy Albert comes in.”

Caissie looked intently at Michele. “Albert Einstein believed in time travel. And what’s more, he proved that it’s theoretically possible.”

“What?” Michele gaped at Caissie.

“I did some studying up on his theories last night and I brought the book for you to have. Check out his Special Theory of Relativity, which was published in 1905. His experiments basically
reversed
the belief that time is linear and the same for everyone. They showed that one person’s past could hypothetically be another person’s future!” Caissie opened the book to a dog-eared page. “Listen. Einstein says, ‘The distinction between past, present, and future is only a stubbornly persistent illusion.’ Just like your situation!”

Michele’s head was spinning. “Wow. I can’t believe this. I always thought it was just … magic.”

“Well, I mean, there is something inherently magical about it,” Caissie said. “But the point is, we now know that science backs it up.”

“So how did Einstein think time travel worked?” Michele asked eagerly.

“It’s all in the book.” Caissie handed it to her. “But basically,
Einstein proved that if an object is moving fast enough through space, it can change its passage through time. So time slows down as an object approaches the speed of light, meaning that traveling faster than the speed of light could send you
back
in time.”

“But how could
I
be traveling faster than the speed of light?” Michele wondered. “I mean, from what you’re saying, it sounds like that would take, like, a spaceship or something.”

“Yeah, that confused me too. But didn’t you tell me yourself that when you go back and forth through time, it feels like the speed of light?”

“Well—yeah,” Michele admitted. “But I only meant it as an expression. I still don’t see how …”

Caissie pointed to the key hanging around Michele’s neck. “You said the key is what sends you back, right? Tell me more about how it works.”

“Well, it sounds crazy, but … there’s just
something
in this key. I don’t know what it is—but whatever scientist or magician created it put something inside that causes it to open locked drawers and doors, to move and become animated. I can’t even imagine where or how my dad got it,” Michele said, marveling. “And when the key touches an object from the past … that’s when I go back in time. But while that much is clear, I still don’t fully understand how I’m returned to the present. That part is so often out of my control.”

“Wow …” Caissie stared at the key. “My God, can you imagine the sensation this news would cause? We could get the top minds in the world to study the key—”

“Caissie, no!” Michele grabbed her wrist across the table.
“You promised, you can’t say anything. Please. This is private. I don’t want to become a freak show here. And besides, I could never hand over the key to someone else.”

“All right, all right. I won’t say anything,” Caissie said, relenting. “But you’re depriving the world of an amazing development in science!”

“How do you know it would be so amazing?” Michele countered. “I mean, I’m just one person going back in time. Imagine if everyone was doing it. The whole world as we know it could be over, or at least majorly thrown out of whack.”

“I guess you have a point,” Caissie conceded reluctantly.

“But … since you seem so interested, and you’re my only confidante here, I’ll tell you whatever you want to know about it,” Michele offered. “And maybe at some point I’ll let
you
study the key—but no one else.”

Caissie’s eyes lit up. “That would be awesome!”

“It’s just so crazy that this is happening to
me,”
Michele said. “I was always the ordinary one compared to my friends.”

“Not anymore you’re not.” Caissie laughed. “Far from it.”

“Okay, can I confess something else?” Michele felt a giddy smile stretching across her face as she began to confide in an amazed Caissie all about her relationship with Philip.

T
hat night, Michele dreamt that Philip was calling out to her. “I have something for you, Michele,” he said, his blue eyes intent. “Please, come to me.”

When she woke up, it was three a.m., but there was no way Michele could fall back to sleep. She knew it, she felt it, that somewhere in 1910 Philip was trying to reach her. And she would have to go to him.

She got up and dressed nervously, her eyes continually darting to her mantel clock.
Please, please, don’t let my grandparents or Annaleigh or anyone discover that I’m gone
, she silently prayed. She pulled on Philip’s jacket, which he had let her keep, and wore her softest flat shoes, so she wouldn’t make any noise going
downstairs. Once she reached the Grand Hall, she held her breath as she opened the huge front door, willing it to close as quietly as possible. Outside, she ran through the gates to the apartment building next door. Standing in front of the building, she wrapped Philip’s jacket tightly around her with one hand and clutched her key with the other. “Send me to him,” she whispered.

And then, right before her eyes, the apartment building crumbled to the ground. Michele opened her mouth to scream, horrified by what she had done—just as the glorious Walker Mansion burst to life in its place, like an Etch A Sketch drawing appearing in a matter of seconds out of nothingness. Michele rushed up to the Walker Manison. She held her breath again, and sure enough, as she placed the key against the lock of the front door, it melded against it, and the door swung open.

Stepping into the chateau, she heard it right away—Philip’s piano playing. With a smile, she hurried into the music room.

She stood in the doorway, watching him, as his fingers flew over the keys, playing one of his jazzy ragtime compositions. When he looked up and spotted Michele, his eyes lit in such a way that Michele felt her face instantly growing warm, her heart racing almost as fast as the syncopated rhythm Philip had been playing. He leaped off the piano bench and pulled her into his arms.

“You’re here!” he cried, kissing her over and over. “You heard me! I can’t believe it worked.”

“So—you were really calling me?” Michele said breathily. “I didn’t just dream it?”

“I really was,” Philip said. “But I’ve tried it before and it
never worked. You always seemed to come to me at different times. I wonder how it worked now.”

“I don’t know, but this is unbelievable!” Michele marveled. She pulled him to her for one more kiss. “What were you playing just now? I love it. It’s so catchy.”

“That’s what I wanted to show you,” he said eagerly. “I was thinking of you, and then the song just came to me—the same way you did. And I want you to write lyrics to it. That’s why I called you here.”

Michele smiled, her face flushing. “Wow. I’m flattered. But I don’t know if I can do it on the spot like that.”

“Of course you can,” he said confidently. “It needs your words.”

“Okay … I’ll try. Will you keep playing the song while I come up with the lyrics? And do you have a pen and paper?”

“Right here.” Philip stood up and lifted the top of the piano bench, where music books, blank sheet music, and a notebook were stashed. As Philip played the song over and over again, Michele sat beside him. Two words kept echoing in her mind as she watched him and lost herself in the melody: “chasing time.” After a while of Philip playing and Michele frantically jotting down, crossing out, and rewriting lines, she finally had something. She took a deep breath, then sang along to Philip’s melody in her soft voice.

“Catch my eye, tell me what you see
Wonder if they could guess it about me
Here I’m standing in a double life
One with love, one with strife
Try to act normal and play it cool
So afraid of breaking a rule
But now I’m falling too hard to stop
Can’t help but take the next drop.”

And then she sang the chorus.

“I can’t live in the normal world
,
I’m just chasing time
I belong in that endless whirl
The place where you’re mine
So take me there, where I long to be
Inside time’s mystery
Upside down and it feels so right
Take my hand, we’ll take flight.”

“How’s that for a start?” Michele asked shyly.

“I love it!” Philip jumped off the piano bench in his excitement and spun her around. “It’s perfect.”

“Really?” Michele beamed. “Okay, let’s keep working on it, then.”

And that was how they spent the late hours: writing and playing, singing and laughing. Michele realized that she had never enjoyed herself so much in her entire life.

Philip copied “Chasing Time” and their first song together, “Bring the Colors Back,” onto sheet music, and as Michele watched him move expertly from playing the songs to notating them, her admiration for him grew even more. “You’re such a hot genius,” she blurted out, grinning.

Philip smiled, but he seemed only to half hear her, his expression preoccupied. “Michele? Will you do something for me?” he asked abruptly.

“Anything.”

“Will you find a way to get this song out in the world—and ‘Bring the Colors Back’ too—in your own time?”

“Me?” Michele let out a surprised laugh. “But I’m no singer, and I know nothing about the music industry.”

“You could find a singer to perform the songs, just as you would find another pianist, since I won’t be there. I know you can think of a way. And it could be the start of your career as a lyricist,” Philip said.

“But that wouldn’t be fair,” Michele said uncomfortably. “Even if I was by some chance able to get the songs released, why should I get the credit as a songwriter when you’re not there to get any recognition? I don’t like it. If anything, you should publish the sheet music now, in your time. Then maybe your mom and uncle would understand about your music—”

“No,” Philip said firmly. “I want these songs to live on in the future—when I can’t. I want to know that I’m somehow … with you there.”

For a moment Michele was too overcome with emotion to speak. “Okay,” she whispered.

Philip reached over to ruffle her hair. “I love you, you know.”

“I love you too.” Michele leaned her head on his shoulder as he returned to playing the songs and transcribing them on sheet music. His face was filled with focus, as though he was convinced that the key to their staying together through time could be found in their songs.

As the first break of daylight streamed through the windows, Michele said reluctantly, “I should probably get back.”

“Oh, God, I completely lost track of the time,” Philip said guiltily.

“It’s okay. I loved every minute.” Michele smiled.

“Let me walk you home.” Philip stood up, offering his arm.

“To 2010?” Michele laughed.

“I wish. But at least as far as the Windsor Mansion.” Philip handed her their sheet music. “You’ll be back soon?”

“Of course I will,” Michele promised.

It was the night before the class trip to Newport, and as Michele packed her weekender, her cell phone rang. She glanced at the screen, which flashed with a picture of Kristen. Michele bit her lip guiltily as she realized how many days it had been since she’d spoken to her best friends. She quickly picked up the phone.

“Hey, girl!” she answered. “I’m so sorry it’s taken me so long—”

“Michele! Where have you
been
, girl? Amanda’s here too.”

“Omigod, I can’t believe we actually got you live!” Amanda piped up. “What is going
on
over there? Are you okay?”