Time After Time by Tamara Ireland Stone Read Free Book Online Page A

Instead she finishes her sentence with “someone I already know.”
    She stands up and I do the same. I comb my hair off my forehead and cast my eyes down at the ground. Tell her.
    “Maggie…” I say.
    Her head springs up. “Yes?”
    “I’m…” I can’t do it. I can’t say it. If she already knew about me, that would be one thing. But she doesn’t. At least, I don’t think she does. “I’m not supposed to be here.”
    And there it is, that warm smile I remember so well. “And yet, you came back,” she says as she reaches over and grips my arm high up by my shoulder and gives it a reassuring squeeze. Maybe that’s her way of giving me permission to not tell her. Or maybe I’m just looking to be let off the hook.
    “I’m going to go get some sheets for your bed,” she says. “All of your clothes are boxed up in the attic. You can put everything back where it belongs.”
    She starts to leave the room, and for some reason I start talking about logistics. “I’ll pay you the same amount, of course. Even though I won’t be here as often.”
    She’s walking away, but I can hear her clearly. “It’s your room, Bennett. Come as often as you like and stay as long as you want to.” Then she stops and turns around. “You should decorate it a bit too. Hang up some posters or something. Make it your own.”

    Three hours later, I’ve reassembled my bedroom at Maggie’s so it looks exactly the way I left it, a process which has left me soaked in sweat from hauling boxes from a 120-degree attic into a 105-degree bedroom. How can she not have air-conditioning?
    As I suspected, my clothing options here are limited to long-sleeved flannels, concert tees, and an assortment of thick sweaters. I dig around in my backpack for a clean shirt and a pair of underwear, and then shuffle across the hallway.
    While I was unpacking, Maggie must have been stocking the bathroom with me in mind. Fresh towels hang from the racks, there’s a new bar of soap on the counter, and on the shelf next to the tub I spot a bottle of all-in-one shampoo and conditioner. I turn on the water and toss my sweat-drenched clothes on the floor.
    After I’m showered and dressed again, I return to my room and crouch down in front of the giant mahogany armoire that dominates this room. I feel around on the bottom for the lock, and inside I find everything I left behind last time: big stacks of cash, all minted pre-1995, and the red notebook I’ve used to calculate my travels for the last year or so. I pick it up, give the rubber band that holds it together a little snap, and return it to the cabinet.
    The twenties in my wallet are from home, so I take them out and stuff them into the opposite comer of the compartment where they won’t get mixed up. Then I count out five hundred dollars in safe bills, fold them into my wallet, and shove all of it into the back pocket of my jeans. I put everything back the way it was.
    Downstairs, I find Maggie standing in front of the narrow desk in the foyer with her purse wide open. She fishes out her car keys and then stuffs a bunch of envelopes inside. She looks up and sees me. “Are you all settled up there?”
    “Yeah. And thanks for the shampoo and stuff.” She gives me a dismissive flick of her wrist as if it were no big deal.
    “I have a doctor’s appointment, but I’ll be back in a few hours.” She gives her keys a little jingle but then stops cold. “Oh… Did you need your car today?” She gives me a confused stare. “I’ve been using it while you were gone.”
    When I walked into the dealership last March, I paid cash for the ’95 Jeep Grand Cherokee and figured I’d leave it for Maggie when it was time for me to go home. Which is why I put the title in her name. It’s also why I chose the color blue. “That’s okay. I hoped you would.”
    She gives me a funny look, and I’m pretty sure she’s about to start asking questions I don’t want to answer.
    “I’ve got to run. I’m