day when they met pulled forward in his mind and heart so that it was as though it was the next day. They had met and fallen in love yesterday.
She pressed closer to him. “Hold me, Matthew, don ‘t let them take me away.”
He complied willingly enough, pulling her once more into his arms and tightening them around her . He even bent to place a kiss on the top of her head. A reserved man who had been brought up to express affection toward his family members through his actions in their behalf rather than with kisses or hugs, he was let loose. He wanted to kiss and hug her until she screamed for mercy—or gave them willingly .
But his innate caution stepped forward. “Who are you afraid of, my dearest?”
He felt her tremble. “Let there be only honest words between us.”
“But you won’t believe me.”
“I promise I will because you are you.”
She pulled away again and already his arms began to ache for her, but he led the way to the sofa and motioned her to sit down before taking his place at her side. No matter what it was, they would work their way through it together.
She wouldn’t look at him, but she spoke up bravely. “There was an opening behind you, a crack in time. I saw my cousin looking for me and I felt drawn as though I would have to go back there no matter whether I wanted to or not.”
He started to speak, uneasily glancing in the direction she’d indicated but seeing nothing out of the ordinary. She wouldn’t let him talk, but gently put a hand across his mouth and began to tell him the wildest story he’d ever heard.
It was about how she lived in the future, in the time after they began to count the years up from two thousand instead of nineteen hundred, and she had a grandmother who used to own this house long ago—but still in the future.
Her tale was as unbelievable as the ghost stor ies his old great-aunt used to tell the children in the family, but his aunt hadn’t meant to be taken seriously and Ange was as serious as death and taxes. He remembered his promise. He must believe her and until he could he would act as though he did.
“That makes you a bit younger than me,” he managed to joked.
Her smile was weak. “By something around seventy years,” she admitted, seeming quite serious even though she had to recognize that he was not. “No, that’s seventy years since the start of World War II when you said we met, you were already grown up then. What year were you born?”
“1911. I’m almost thirty six.”
“My birth year was 1978.”
“I don’t think we qualify even for a May - December romance,” he kept making jokes because he didn’t know what else to do. “You were twenty eight when I met you. That means that now you’re . . .”
“Twenty eight,” she reminded him . “Still twenty eight.”
“You haven’t aged a minute,” he said, then added truthfully, “you look exactly the same.”
“I told you I haven’t met you yet, but if I said I was twenty eight when we met, it must happen in the next six months before my birthday.”
“We haven’t met yet. That’s what you meant?”
She nodded so convincingly that he almost believed her.
Certainly she believed what she was saying. He could accept that.
Suddenly he sensed that someone was watching them and he looked around quickly, almost expecting to see the cousin she’d mentioned peering through a crack. Instead he found Danny in the doorway, dressed in his pajama pants, and observing them in each other’s arms with bright curiosity.
“I thought you were long asleep,” he told the boy.
“I was,” Danny answered with a mischievous air. “But I woke up and heard voices. Thought I’d better come in and make sure we didn’t have a burglar.”
Angie stepped away from his hold, looking embarrassed. “We were just talking, Danny.”
“Smooching,” Danny corrected with a grin.
Matthew hid his amusement. If only, he thought. “Danny, you will apologize to Miss Ward
She pressed closer to him. “Hold me, Matthew, don ‘t let them take me away.”
He complied willingly enough, pulling her once more into his arms and tightening them around her . He even bent to place a kiss on the top of her head. A reserved man who had been brought up to express affection toward his family members through his actions in their behalf rather than with kisses or hugs, he was let loose. He wanted to kiss and hug her until she screamed for mercy—or gave them willingly .
But his innate caution stepped forward. “Who are you afraid of, my dearest?”
He felt her tremble. “Let there be only honest words between us.”
“But you won’t believe me.”
“I promise I will because you are you.”
She pulled away again and already his arms began to ache for her, but he led the way to the sofa and motioned her to sit down before taking his place at her side. No matter what it was, they would work their way through it together.
She wouldn’t look at him, but she spoke up bravely. “There was an opening behind you, a crack in time. I saw my cousin looking for me and I felt drawn as though I would have to go back there no matter whether I wanted to or not.”
He started to speak, uneasily glancing in the direction she’d indicated but seeing nothing out of the ordinary. She wouldn’t let him talk, but gently put a hand across his mouth and began to tell him the wildest story he’d ever heard.
It was about how she lived in the future, in the time after they began to count the years up from two thousand instead of nineteen hundred, and she had a grandmother who used to own this house long ago—but still in the future.
Her tale was as unbelievable as the ghost stor ies his old great-aunt used to tell the children in the family, but his aunt hadn’t meant to be taken seriously and Ange was as serious as death and taxes. He remembered his promise. He must believe her and until he could he would act as though he did.
“That makes you a bit younger than me,” he managed to joked.
Her smile was weak. “By something around seventy years,” she admitted, seeming quite serious even though she had to recognize that he was not. “No, that’s seventy years since the start of World War II when you said we met, you were already grown up then. What year were you born?”
“1911. I’m almost thirty six.”
“My birth year was 1978.”
“I don’t think we qualify even for a May - December romance,” he kept making jokes because he didn’t know what else to do. “You were twenty eight when I met you. That means that now you’re . . .”
“Twenty eight,” she reminded him . “Still twenty eight.”
“You haven’t aged a minute,” he said, then added truthfully, “you look exactly the same.”
“I told you I haven’t met you yet, but if I said I was twenty eight when we met, it must happen in the next six months before my birthday.”
“We haven’t met yet. That’s what you meant?”
She nodded so convincingly that he almost believed her.
Certainly she believed what she was saying. He could accept that.
Suddenly he sensed that someone was watching them and he looked around quickly, almost expecting to see the cousin she’d mentioned peering through a crack. Instead he found Danny in the doorway, dressed in his pajama pants, and observing them in each other’s arms with bright curiosity.
“I thought you were long asleep,” he told the boy.
“I was,” Danny answered with a mischievous air. “But I woke up and heard voices. Thought I’d better come in and make sure we didn’t have a burglar.”
Angie stepped away from his hold, looking embarrassed. “We were just talking, Danny.”
“Smooching,” Danny corrected with a grin.
Matthew hid his amusement. If only, he thought. “Danny, you will apologize to Miss Ward
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