Another Dawn (54 page)

      
Graham startled awake at the sound of a trolley rattling down the street. His shoulder ached from lying on the cold cobblestones, and his stomach burned from too little food and too much rot-gut whiskey. He kicked the empty bottle at his feet and staggered toward the end of the alley.

      
The murderer and his bride were up there in a nice soft bed, while he slept in the gutter. He clenched his fist and shook it at the building as the city of Denver came awake.

      
He knew in his gut that Nolan would do something stupid today, and Graham would be ready. Everything was prepared and waiting. It was just a matter of time now.

      
The ache in his chest sharpened again, but he massaged it until it passed. He didn't give a damn what happened to him, as long as he finished his job first.

      
He'd remain in the shadows until the right moment came. And he knew it would.

      
After all, justice always prevailed.

Chapter 21

      
Pushing aside the 1891 version of
The Denver Post
, Luke watched Sofie button the front of one of Dora's baggy dresses. He took a sip of coffee, leaning back in his chair.

      
"I thought you left all those things in Redemption."
 
He smiled at her answering scowl. "Oh, yeah. I forgot you aren't a morning person."

      
She walked over to him and smiled before delivering a pseudo-throat culture with her lips and tongue. "On the contrary, husband," she whispered, reaching between his legs. "That's not what you were saying about an hour ago."

      
"Touché."
 
He loved her open sexuality. The thought gave him pause, then he chuckled to himself as she returned to dressing for the day.

      
"What's so funny?"

      
"I was just thinking what a modern, liberated woman you are."
 
He watched a line crease her brow as she looked up at him from tying her hiking boots. The delicate slippers that matched her wedding gown wouldn't work for everyday. Besides, he loved those beat-up hiking boots. They were her.

      
"Well, I guess doctors have to be liberated."
 
She shook her head. "I still don't see how I could be a doctor and not remember something about it, though. I guess Dr. Bowen will be able to help me with that, too."

      
Luke's blood turned to ice. Swallowing the stomach acid that rose in his throat, he stood and walked over to sit beside her on the bed. "Sofie, you still plan to see him?"

      
"Of course."
 
She patted his hand. "Don't you want to know who you're married to?"

      
"I know everything I need to."
 
That frigging guilt surged through him again. What right did he have to deny her the chance for memories like those he treasured from his own childhood? The answer came simply and swiftly. None. "Okay, then. I'll ask the desk clerk if she knows how to reach him. We can phone for an appointment."

      
"Oh, that's right, they do have telephones now."
 
She grinned.

      
"You're a real nineties kinda gal."
 
He grinned as she stuck her tongue out at him, struggling not to succumb to his recollection of her tongue and half a bottle of champagne.
 

      
"Very funny."

      
Jarred from thoughts of real lovemaking that had been more erotic than anything his imagination could have conjured, Luke cleared his throat. "How would you like to take a walk down my Memory Lane this morning?"

      
"I'd like that."
 

      
At least taking her to try on the traveling suit would postpone her seeing Dr. Bowen a little longer. Luke realized now he would have to accept the inevitable. Sofie would at least try to recover from her amnesia, and he had no right to stand in her way. In fact, he owed her the truth. Eventually.

      
"Memory Lane, Luke. Remember?"

      
"Yeah."
 
He proceeded to tell her about his grandparents, about growing up in Denver in their old Victorian house, and helping his grandpa at the shoe repair shop. He even told her about the brick wall that had fascinated him yesterday.

      
"You mean," she squeezed his hand, "you bought my wedding dress in that same building? Luke, that's so special. Thank you."

      
"Yeah."
 
He shrugged. "I couldn't resist going in and looking around, and since they had what I needed..."

      
"I've been thinking about something."

      
"Uh-oh, this sounds serious."

      
Sofie punched him lightly on the arm. "Hey, I am serious, buster."

      
"Okay, I'll be good."

      
"That'll be the day."
 
She smiled, then grew sober again. "This time travel business..."

      
"Oh, that."

      
"Yes, that."
 
Sighing, she put her chin in her hand and stared at him as she spoke. "If we're here now, will we exist when we originally existed?"

      
Luke chuckled. "When I first learned what had happened, I spent at least a week trying to figure out all the paradoxes of this."
 
He shook his head. "I just don't know, Sofie."

      
"Well, assuming we'll still be born at the place and time we were originally born..."

      
"I think I need a drink."

      
"Last night you had enough champagne to hold you a while, I think."

      
"Mmm, look who's talking."
 
He cupped her breast in his hand and brushed his thumb across its peak through her dress. "Fine vintage."

      
"The best and don't you forget it."
 
Sofie grabbed his face and kissed him fast and hard, then pulled his hand away from her breast. "If you don't stop that, we'll never get to our walk down Memory Lane."

      
"So?"

      
"Get a grip on your hormones and pay attention," she said. "I'm trying to be brilliant here."

      
"You're always brilliant."

      
"Anyway, if we aren't born at the place and time we originally were, then how can we be here now?"

      
"I'm not going there."
 
He laughed and draped his arm across her shoulders. "That's too complicated and completely unanswerable."

      
"Yeah, I suppose, but..."

      
"But what?"
 

      
She straightened and looked at Luke, her expression deadly sober. "Is there some way you could leave a message or sign for yourself?"

      
"I...don't know."
 
Luke's stomach did a somersault and he straightened. "If not for myself, then maybe for Grandpa."

      
Sofie put her palm to his cheek very gently. "I see the pain in your eyes and feel it in my heart when you talk about him, Luke."

      
"Yeah."
 
It hurt like hell whenever he remembered the note from Grandpa, still tucked in the back of Father Salazar's Bible. Rising, he went to the leather pouch he'd removed from the priest's dead body the morning of the explosion.

      
Sofie remained seated on the bed, watching him, and he loved her all the more for granting him this moment's privacy. He looked at the note, the crucifix with Father Salazar's initials etched into its back, and the well-worn Bible Luke had used to perform a bogus wedding ceremony and dozens of funerals.

      
After several moments, he looked up at Sofie and sighed. "If there's any way to change what happened, to prevent the circumstances that sent me to prison and caused Grandpa's shame..."

      
"You have to do it."
 
Sofie stood and walked partway across the room. "I'll do anything I can to help."

      
He nodded. "I need paper and a pen. Ink, I suppose. I don't think ballpoints have been invented."
 
He wrapped the Bible in paper and tied it with ribbon, then carried it with the other items to the small desk near the window. "I suppose this is worth a shot."

      
Luke wrote three letters on the hotel's stationery. One to his grandfather, which included the note in Grandpa's own hand in the same envelope. All he told the old man was how much he loved him, that he'd been innocent of the murder, and that all he ever wanted was to make his grandparents proud.

      
Instead of a fancy symbol, he used his thumbprint to press the warm wax into place, remembering when he'd been arrested and booked for murder.

      
Unjustly.

      
The second letter was to himself, telling him to be good. Basically. The third letter was one he had to write even more than the other two. He addressed it to the liquor store clerk who'd died that night Luke's world had fallen apart. If he could convince that man not to go to work that fateful night...

      
Maybe these letters could perform another miracle, if they fell into the right hands at the right time. An image of him and Grandpa tearing down that brick wall flashed through his mind again, and he suddenly knew where to hide everything.

      
His heart collided with his ribs as the woman he loved fidgeted around the room, obviously trying to stay out of his way. He loved her so much it hurt sometimes, but it was a pain he never wanted to be without.

      
Now all he needed was a way to prevent his shame.

      
"Ready?" he asked.

      
Sofie nodded, obviously understanding the significance of what he was about to do. "I guess we're off to change history then."

      
"I sure as hell hope so."
 
He looked down at the letters and Bible tied together with a ribbon. The crucifix would go, too, he decided.

      
Sofie tapped his shoulder and held something silver before his eyes. "This, too, please."

      
"Why?"

      
"I don't know. I just want our things to go through history together. I mean, what if..."
 
Sofie touched his arm. "What if these letters change things so much that this–that
we
don't happen?"

      
He stared at her for several minutes, unable to believe such a horrible thing was possible. Gathering her against his chest, he held her silently for several minutes, then lifted her chin so he could watch her eyes.