Page 29 of The Promise
"Automobile." She answered without thinking, her thoughts on her parents.
"Automobile?" If the situation hadn't been so dire, his expression would have been comical. "I've read about them, but never seen one. There aren't any in Silverthread..." He stopped, the impact of his comment hitting home. "…in my time."
She knew she ought to be questioning his sanity. Or at least his story. But all she could think about was the fact that he hadn't deserted her. At least not by choice. Somehow, if he was to be believed, she had crossed into his world or the other way around. For one night they had occupied the same temporal plane. And then somehow, they had been separated again.
By time.
Cara swallowed a sob. It was all so insane.
He must have heard her, or felt her pain, or just wanted the connection, because he moved to the sofa and pulled her into his arms. "It'll be all right. We'll figure this out. The most important thing is that you found me again—whatever time we're in. I'd have died without you, Cara. You saved my life."
She nodded against his chest, tears threatening. "Just like you saved mine." She listened to the soft steady beat of his heart, drawing strength from it.
"I looked everywhere for you." His words were quiet, almost a whisper. "I couldn't understand where you'd gone—I worried about you, I…I cared about you."
"I kept telling them you were real, that you'd saved me, that I owed you my life." She rattled on, the tears falling in earnest now. "They thought it was trauma, that the horror of witnessing my parents' deaths caused me to hallucinate. Oh God, Michael, they convinced me that I made you up." She stared up at him,memorizing the curves of his face, trying to understand what was happening to them.
"They who?" His look was at once protective and questioning—angry and concerned. She marveled at his strength. She was sitting here falling apart and he was the one who had traveled through time.
"My grandfather, and my doctors." She frowned, remembering. "My grandfather was there when I left the tunnel. I insisted that they look, but you were gone—the mine was empty." She fought against a sob. "When I woke up in the hospital, they told me that you were a figment of my imagination."
"And you believed them?" His voice was harsh, and she winced at the pain she heard there.
"No. Not at first. As soon as I was well enough I went back there, back to the tunnel. And I waited for you. I came every day, Michael. I was determined to find you. To prove to my grandfather that you were real. But you never came."
"But I did. I searched that damn mountain for you. Had my family out looking, too. They were certain you'd died or gone back to where you came from. But I was so sure you were out there, somewhere. That you needed me. Then, when it became apparent that my family was right, I stopped searching, but I kept coming back to the tunnel, Cara. On the off chance that you'd be there. That you'd come back."
"But I didn't." Her voice cracked, and the anguish she felt was mirrored in the blue of his eyes.
"You couldn't."
"I wanted to believe in you, Michael. I wanted to so badly. But my grandfather thought I was using you as a crutch. A way to deal with the loss of my parents. He even sent me to a psychiatrist."
He raised a brow in question.
"For my head. To make me see the truth of it. And so, little by little, I began to accept the fact that I'd made you up."
His hand tightened around hers. "But you didn't."
She smiled at him through her tears. "No. I didn't."
Without a word, he pulled her tightly against his chest. She let the warmth of him surround and comfort her. She breathed deeply, letting his scent, so familiar, so foreign, fill her, soothe her.
He was a stranger. He was Michael.
And if they were right, he was lost in her time.
Michael closed his eyes,reveling in the feel of her heartbeat, the soft silkiness of her hair. How many nights had he dreamed about golden hair and green eyes? And now she was here, in his arms. He tipped up her chin, looking deep into her eyes. Her face was wet with tears, her expression a mixture of awe and fear. With a gentle finger, he brushed away the moisture on her cheek, feeling her tremble in response. Carefully, as though he might break her, he pressed his lips against hers.
She opened her mouth and what had started as a comforting touch, ignited into passion born of longing and joy. He circled her lips with his tongue, tasting the salt of her tears. All he wanted to do was hold her—never let her go. To prove to himself that he was alive, no matter the century.
He sighed, pushing away his need. No matter how badly he wanted her, this wasn't the time. He nestled his chin on top of her head. "Cara, we need to talk." He felt her nod, and gently released her. They sat facing each other, still holding hands, as if to be certain neither of them would disappear.
"This all sounds crazy."Cara ran a hand through her hair, her mind in tumultuous turmoil. On the one hand, she wanted to throw herself into his arms, surrender body and soul. On the other hand, she could hear her grandfather's voice warning her that things were not always as they seemed. It was almost more than she could bear.
"I know it does." He looked almost as confused as she felt. "But the reality is that a few days ago, I was riding line on Clune, trying to build a life for my family, a real home. And today, I discover that somehow I've leapt forward a hundred years and that the people I love are all long dead."
"Family?" Cara felt something tighten around her chest, impeding her breathing. "Are you…I mean do you have a…" She stopped, uncertain how to put her question into words.
