Page 12 of Kiss Across the Universe
“Did she andFarhave another fight?” Alannah asked.
“‘lannah…” Aran chided.
Taylor glanced at her, and her eyes narrowed. “I suppose that’s a fair question, but in this case, no they didn’t. She arrived here this morning with a headache and it’s got worse all day.”
“Farmust be out of his mind by now, if he couldn’t fix it,” Alannah murmured.
Taylor’s smile was small, but there. “He consulted with Alex, and gave her the dihydroergotamine. Then he consulted with….” She pressed her lips together, as if she was holding back laughter. “David,” she finished.
Aran let out a breathy chuckle.
“Heisdesperate,” Alannah concluded. She blew out her breath. “Does that mean David will be at the table today?”
“Tables,” Aran amended.
“He’s probably here already,” Taylor replied. Her smiled took on a wicked edge. “As Veris has disappeared.”
Chapter Five
Marit knew someone was inthe bedroom with her, but she didn’t have the courage to open her eyes. It hurt too much. “Who’s there?” Her voice came out croaky and weak. The stuff Veris had given her was making her loopy and pathetic, but it wasn’t halting the headache.
“David,” came the reply, in David’s silky baritone.
She sighed. “I’m not in the mood to talk to you.”
“Fine. I will talk. You listen.”
She heard the creak of wood and cracked open one eye by the merest sliver. The room was almost completely dark, for Taylor had drawn the light-blocking drapes. “They’re efficient,” Taylor had explained. “In mid-summer the sun doesn’t set until close to midnight.”
Not that her parents slept anymore. But Marit was grateful for the darkness. She could just make out David’s silhouette. The wide shoulders. He had sat upon the bench under the window and was leaning forward, his arms upon his knees.
“I think I know what is happening to you.” His voice was low in volume, but she had no trouble hearing him. His words seemed to hang in the air, lingering, even though they were trivial words. Yet they were not trivial to her.
“Listening,” she whispered.
He didn’t speak for long moments. So long that she thought he had not heard her and was abiding by her silence and keeping his own. She was on the verge of repeating her response, when he did speak.
“When I was near your age…perhaps a bit earlier…I don’t remember exactly, because then, people didn’t care as much about the age of a man, only the age he appeared to be. Was he tall enough and strong enough to hold a sword? Was she old enough to bear children and therefore be wed?” He paused. “They were different times.”
I know. Marit had spent days in Jerusalem at the turn of the first century. She’d learned to wear baggy clothes and keep her face veiled and her hair well hidden, not because a man insisted upon it, but because it shielded her from curious gazes. A young, lone woman was simply asking for trouble, back then.
“I will assume that I was the age you are now when I first started seeing the alternative worlds. Not just across the timescape, but even when I was awake and aware in my own time. I could see andfeelevery possible alternative to the moment I was living through, and the consequences.”
Marit wanted to laugh, but was afraid to. She didn’t know what it would do to her head. “I’ve been seeing other timelines for years,” she told him dismissively.
Silence.
Then, “Ah.” His tone was…was hepleased? “Of course, I was estimating your age onthistimeline, but you spend time in the past, too.” Another thick pause. “How long have you been seeing your other selves?”
Marit kept her eyes closed, even though his question made her jump a little. It had been Easter when she had first felt/saw one of her other selves in her mind, moving through a moment not dissimilar to her own. There had been enough differences in the situations – different clothes, different responses she’d given, different reactions from people around her – that Marit had known she wasn’t merely replaying the moment she was experiencing in her mind.
She remembered it was Easter because nearly all of Australia went into a four day shut-down over the Easter weekend, and most people headed out of the city to find a bit of shade in the bush, set up a campfire, sit around it and drink.
Marit had been sitting beside a fire made of gum tree branches, the aromatic eucalyptus resin making the smoke somewhat more tolerable. She had been caught up in the other-memory of her alternative self to the point where the friend beside her had nudged her arm to get her attention.
Marit had blinked and pulled herself together. She could recall the conversational exchanges that had taken place over the campfire. They were in her memory, which meant she had heard them. That also meant she hadn’t been on the timescape and mentally cut off from this world, while her body slumped.
She had managed to find something to say that hadn’t made everyone look at her strangely and the moment had passed.
