Second Time Around (9 page)

“I’m a realist. And hey, if I’m out of a job, so are you.”

Brandy shrugged. “You’ve known Lane a few years; I’ve known her my whole life. She’s my best friend and I love her. I’ve got the most to lose, so if I’m willing to let her do this thing so she can have a shot at something even better than she has now, then so can you.”

Sol snickered. “Dawson, Minnesota? Better?”

“Don’t knock it,” Brandy said.

He squinted at her. “Didn’t you have a drunk mother back in Dawson? Didn’t you come out here with Lane as a means to escape her backhand?”

Brandy raised her chin and pulled a pillow into her lap. “Yeah, well… what’s past is past.”

Sol laughed. “Not anymore. Not since the Time Lottery!”

“You’re just jealous,” Brandy said.

“Hardly.”

While the two of them bantered and bickered, Lane lay her head against the couch pillows. These two important people in her life could argue over the color of the sky. Finally, she’d had enough. “Come on, you two. Time-out. I’m tired. Really, really tired.”

Brandy popped out of her seat. “That’s our cue. Everybody out.”

Sol gathered his briefcase. “Might as well. I’m not needed here. Or there. Bye, Lane. Let me know if and when you want to be an actress again.”

“Had to get one last dig in, didn’t you, Sol?” Brandy said.

“Sue me.”

Brandy gathered her things and took an exaggerated breath as they all congregated at the front door. “Ready to meet the enemy?”

Sol sighed. “Just open it.”

In one sweeping movement Brandy opened the door to the crowd of reporters and pushed her way through to her car. Sol followed. It was chaos.

“Lane! Lane! Tell us—”

“Who’s that?”

“Go after her; maybe she knows something.”

“That’s the agent. Mr. Epstein, what year is Lane going to visit?”

“No comment.”

Lane shut the door. Locked it.

And sank to the floor.

The Spanish tiles were cold.

Kansas City

Cheryl snuggled deeper against Mac’s shoulder. “You’re not here.”

At her words, Mac blinked and realized she was right. He hadn’t been concentrating on the here and now; the fact that he had this lovely, vibrant woman in his arms; soft music playing on the stereo; the smells of dinner still lingering from the kitchen. He kissed the top of her head. “Sorry.”

“Another group’s been chosen, Mac. Step one is done. For the most part, the technicians and scientists take over from here.”

“I know.” It wasn’t that.

“Are you thinking about
your
chance to go back? Are you thinking about Holly?”

Bingo.

She sat up. “Do you regret not taking the chance Wriggens gave you? I know your reason was Andrew—and a fine reason he is, but—”

“No, no.”

“I don’t believe you.”

He laughed. “Would you please stop being so insightful, intuitive, in—”

“Incapable of accepting bunkum as the truth?” She traced his left eyebrow with a finger. “It’s okay to be human. And it doesn’t hurt me one bit to know you’d like to go back and stop your wife from being murdered. You loved her deeply. That’s a good thing. I’m not threatened by that love. I’m inspired by it.”

“I can’t imagine you being threatened by anything.”

She stopped tracing and looked to the ceiling. “Hmm. You’re probably right about that.”

“I am in awe of your confidence.”

She faced forward, putting her feet next to his on the coffee table. “Don’t be. I’m too arrogant and egotistical to be threatened by anything. But if I were truly a nice, wise older woman, well then… I suppose I
could
offer you a list of fears and foibles.”

He squeezed her shoulders. “You are a nice woman, often wise, and I’ve told you our age difference means nothing to me.”

“I
have
aged well.”

It was an understatement. No one would ever guess Cheryl was in her late forties. As Mac got older himself, he’d come to realize how little age meant. It was a state of mind. And Cheryl’s mind put most twenty-year-olds to shame.

He continued his compliments, meaning every word. “You’re a wonderful woman. An amazing woman. An astounding woman.”

She reclaimed her spot, snuggling against his chest. “You spoil me.”

“It’s my joy.”

They breathed in unison a few minutes. Then she said, “I really should be going. In fact I’m leaving right now.” She did not move.

He smiled against her hair and held her tighter.

“Oh, Mac,” she whispered. “I’m having a tough time leaving.” She kissed a button on his shirt. “I wish I could stay.”

Oh yes.
He wanted her to. “I’d like nothing better.”

“See?”

“We’ve talked about this, Cheryl. We both want to do this right. What God is bringing together—”

She slapped his chest and sat up. “Let no hormonal people put asunder. I know. I know. I hope He appreciates our sacrifice.”

Mac stroked her hair behind her ear. “He does. And He’ll bless it when the time comes.” He caught himself. “I mean
if
the time—”

She wagged a finger at him. “Uh-uh, Alexander MacMillan. You said
when.
Is that a proposal?”

It was. In a way.

“I’m waiting.”

He kissed her cheek. “When it’s a proposal, you’ll know it’s a proposal.”

“Promise?”

“There will be no question.”

FIVE

With man this is impossible, but not with God;
all things are possible with God.

Mark 10:27

Kansas City

Alexander MacMillan stepped into the limo, his cell phone to his ear. Dealing with Chief Administrator Wriggens was arguably the hardest part of his job. The man needed constant reassurance—and monitoring.

The driver closed the door and Mac settled in for the ride that would collect the winners for their final press conference. Earlier today he’d picked them up from the airport—David Stancowsky flying in from Bangor, Vanessa Caldwell flying in from Atlanta, and Lane Holloway flying in from Malibu. All were safely ensconced in the Regency Crown Center, a lovely hotel that went out of its way to cater to these Time Lottery elite.

The limo pulled into traffic. A light snow was falling. “Things are progressing, John,” he said into the phone. “So far, so good.”

“You call this good?” Wriggens said. “Last week, when the press initially pounced on the winners, I had high hopes for some extraordinary publicity, not just exterior shots of their homes or the incessant third-person rehash of their past accomplishments—or lack thereof. I wanted interviews with
them,
not segments of
This Is Your Life
or insipid speculation as to what year they’ll choose to visit.”

Mac closed his eyes. “It’s our own doing. We beg the press to leave the winners alone during this week between the drawing and the departure so they can finalize the specific choices they want to change and make arrangements to be gone—perhaps forever. I can’t believe you’re complaining that the media is cooperating.”

“Get off it, Mac. I don’t want cooperation. I want exploitation. We have only this one time each year. We have to make the most of it.”

The man had no shame. More, more, more. He was never satisfied and had the capability to focus like a laser beam: The bottom line was Wriggens’s god. He wasn’t choosy about how he worshipped it and wouldn’t waste a moment if a commandment or two were broken in the process. The ends always justified the means.

Although Mac knew applying logic would be unsuccessful, he gave it a shot. “You know the no-interview request is for the good of the winners.”

“Yes, yes, but I bet if we took a poll, most people have their choice figured out before they even buy a ticket. This week-long interim… you’re wasting everyone’s time, Mac. Time that could best be used to promote and nourish the program. Sometimes I wonder about your loyalty and your priorities.”

And I yours.
Mac slumped in the soft leather of the limo’s seat and closed his eyes. He still had a hard evening ahead of him. “Fine. I’ll take a poll of one right now. What would you change?”

“Me?”

“Sure. Pin it down to one moment, one decision, one past choice.”

“I’m not eligible to buy a ticket.”

“But surely you’ve thought about it. Surely you’ve done some mighty soul-searching.”

There was the slightest of pauses. “I’ve got another call. I’ll see you at the press conference.”

Lurking in the back, no doubt.

The limo pulled in front of the hotel. The driver went around and opened the door. As soon as Mac exited, a bevy of cameras converged, following Lane Holloway as she sprinted from the hotel entrance to the car.

“They’re out in force today, Mr. MacMillan,” she said as she stepped inside the vehicle. David Stancowsky led Vanessa Caldwell into the fray, with the cameras clicking wildly.

As Vanessa got in, David winked at Mac. “No turning back now, is there, Mr. MacMillan?”

“None at all.”

David and Mac took seats across from the two women. Once they pulled away, they each took a deep breath, smiling at their unison.

“I apologize for the cameras during your exit,” Mac said. “Have they been hounding you all day?”

“I’m afraid it’s my fault,” Lane said. “I bring out the worst in people.”

“Nonsense,” Mac said. “We’re thrilled to have you here.”

“I will say it’s quite exciting sitting next to Lane Holloway,” Vanessa said.

“I’ve got the better view,” David said from his facing seat. “You’re every bit as lovely in person as you are on the screen.”

If Mac hadn’t had time to get to know Lane after picking her up at the airport, he would have been surprised by her blush. But after talking to her and finding out she was delightfully unassuming…

“Please,” Lane said. “Can we forget the movie-star title for the rest of this? At least between us? We’re all winners. We’re all in this together, right?”

“I’m in,” Vanessa said.

“Absolutely,” David said.

Mac beamed. He retrieved a note card from the inner pocket of his suit. Such lists were essential during these stressful two days. “While we’re gathered I thought I’d go over a few details. Time tends to go too quickly these last eighteen to twenty-four hours.”

“Time. Amusing,” David said.

“Tonight we will take you before the press one at a time. You may make a statement or just answer questions, but you obviously know that the press—the world—wants to know the year you are going to explore and something about the whys behind it. It will be short, and I will be there to cut things off when I think it’s appropriate. We want to make this as painless as possible.”

Vanessa sighed. “I’ll do whatever it takes, Mr. MacMillan. Please know that.”

Mac looked at her. He’d done research on her life. She was the recipient of many awards for volunteerism. Definitely a giver. He foresaw no problems with her at all.

“Big groups don’t bother me,” David said. He winked at Lane. “And you’ve obviously got that one down.”

She smiled. A good sign. Mac continued. “Now, as for your actual journey tomorrow. Once again, we will pick you up at the hotel, then deposit you into individual waiting rooms at the TTC building, where you will change into scrubs so you’re comfortable during your journey. Your family can be with you as you wait so you can say your good-byes.”

“I’m going solo,” David said. “How about you ladies?”

Lane answered first. “Me, too.” Her face looked a bit sad.

Vanessa looked worried. “My father, my husband, and my daughter are going to be there. If you’d rather they not be…”

“They are very welcome.”

She seemed to relax. Mac continued. “When it’s your time to go, I will take you into the Sphere—”

“It’s rare to see an actual geodesic dome,” David said. “I would have liked the contract on that one.”

“The Sphere houses the working area of the Time Lottery,” Mac said. “Inside are a team of doctors, technicians, and a few dignitaries looking on. You will lie down, and we will attach some life-support monitors, IVs, a catheter, etcetera.”

“Fun,” Lane said.

“Essential,” Mac said. “Once you are settled, our medical staff will position an fMRI device around your head, pinpoint the Loop portion of your brain that holds your memories, and give you a dose of the Serum in the form of a shot. The Serum acts as a magnifier for your thoughts.”

David made a face. “Work on making the Serum in pill form, eh, Mr. MacMillan?”

“Next you will be asked to think of the time you wish to visit and the choice you’d like to make differently. You will fall into a deep sleep, similar to being put under anesthesia, except your mind will be wonderfully awake as you enter the past. Your consciousness will quickly adjust, and you will experience your Alternate Reality—your Alternity—totally innocent of the future, of how things were the first time around.”

“But we’ll make a different choice,” Lane said.

“You will. As you’re traveling into your Alternity, you’ll be concentrating on the choice you want to make differently. With the help of the Serum, when the moment of choice comes, you will feel strongly urged to take one path over another. That’s when the power of the mind, the power of suggestion, takes over. After that, you will be free to live out the consequences of your new choice.”