A Tale of Two Centuries msssc-2 Read online

  “Tomorrow,” I repeat, but I’m unsure if he hears me, for he’s already walking away.

  A silent, awkward moment hangs in the air. Then Austin says, “So, we have plans,” bringing my attention back to him—back where it belongs. “And when exactly were you thinking about telling me this important information?”

  “As soon as I saw you,” I say, placing my hand over the comforting beat of his heart. “I figured you would be here with Jamie, or I’d call you when my scene was through. But if you already have plans for the evening, you don’t have to come. Cat and Lucas just invited us for pizza and a movie at the house, nothing as exciting as one of your challenges.”

  “Anything with you is exciting, Princess.” He moves his hand beneath my thick hair and plays with the wisps at the nape of my neck. He brushes his lips against mine, just a tease, then lifts his head and grins. “And it just so happens I like pizza”—another light brush—“and movies.” His mouth presses more firmly this time for a prolonged, lingering touch, and then he shrugs. “And I guess the company is decent enough.”

  “Oh, is that right?” I ask, trying to feign insult, but mostly succeeding in sounding breathless. “Only decent?”

  He glides the tip of his nose against mine. “Mm-hmm.”

  I pinch the taut skin at his waist, and he chuckles. The sound does glorious things to my insides. Then, finally, Austin strengthens his hold around me, crushing me to his chest, and tilts his head, capturing my lips in a long, searing kiss that has me clinging to his shoulders.

  Chapter Twenty-four

  The glow of the television flickers across Cat’s face as Lucas and she battle each other. “I’m not watching Entertainment Tonight, TMZ, or anything on E!,” my cousin says as she wrests the remote from his grip. “As far as I know, Mama Dearest is laying low on the scandal scene, and I don’t need any gossip-spewers destroying that lovely illusion. I’m sure I’ll learn all about her latest embarrassment soon enough.”

  Lucas and I share a look. This isn’t the first time Cat has brought up her mother when we’ve watched television at night or happened past a row of newspapers and magazines in a store. And it appears as though the longer time ticks without any salacious news, and the happier Cat grows in her relationship with Lucas, the more on edge she becomes. It’s as if she believes she’s only allotted so much happiness in life and is waiting for a villain to reveal the turning point.

  Such as she experienced during her journey to the sixteenth century.

  Lucas shrugs his shoulders, clearly more concerned with the girl beside him than what is on television. “Not like I’d ever watch that garbage, anyway, dear.”

  Cat sticks her tongue out at his teasing tone and shoves his chest when he leans in to nibble the side of her neck. I smile, impressed with his diversion techniques, and Lucas tosses me a grin as he slides his arm along the back of the sofa.

  “Or ESPN,” my cousin continues, her tone much lighter than before as she scrolls through the options on the menu screen. “And all those testosterone-filled, boy-like sports channels are obviously out for oh, so many reasons. But—aha!—see, here you go.” She presses select and the screen switches to a man with a comically wide smile, acting as host and mediator between two sets of boisterous, screaming, and frankly somewhat frightening, people lined up behind a long desk. “You can never go wrong with the good old Game Show Network.”

  A bright red x blazes on the screen, accompanied by a startling bong sound, and the entire audience boos in empathy. “Family Feud,” she says with a nod. “An American TV classic.”

  Lucas rolls his eyes but pulls her into his arms, snuggling her close as they watch the bizarre program. Unaccustomed to the garish colors of the set and the chirping noises emitting from the speakers, I begin straightening the coffee table between our two sofas and attempt to ignore the adorable couple opposite me. It is not that I begrudge them their affectionate display; I’m just impatient for Austin to arrive so that I can have my own. I find that I’ve become addicted to his presence, and the last few days have only added to my obsession. I stack empty soda cups and toss in the crumpled napkins littering the smooth mahogany tabletop, and grin when I spy the half-empty box of pizza.

  If Austin doesn’t arrive soon, I’m going to have one hungry boy on my hands.

  The skin on my backside tingles at the memory of his playful swat. And when the doorbell finally rings, following another red x and loud bong from the television, I spring to my feet.

  It’s about time.

  Taking off at a near sprint, I call over my shoulder, “I’ll get it!” As I hasten my pace, my sock-encased feet lose traction on the smooth hardwood floor. I slide into one wall, push off, and grab the corner of another to keep from crashing again, and the disembodied sound of Cat’s laughter trails behind me. “Don’t go hurting yourself now.”

  I roll my eyes but slow down, for even I notice my behavior is bordering on frantic. And I’m not quite sure why. Based on appearances, there is nothing to be anxious about. The four of us are simply going to relax—hang out—in Cat’s home, enjoying one another’s company. It will be much easier than any one of Austin’s nonstop adventures. But it doesn’t change the fact that everything about tonight feels significant, important. Almost as if I’ve crossed some invisible line and begun a new chapter in my time-travel tale. And that is why this is such a defining moment; this evening I will truly experience a typical night in the life of a modern teen, one who happens to be falling hard for the enigmatic boy waiting for her.

  I glide to a stop in the atrium and check my reflection in the mirror over the entry table, looking for anything unseemly or out of place, any food lodged between my teeth. I pat my hair and straighten unseen wrinkles in my shirt. Smiling at the crimson stain on my cheeks, aware that this time my characteristic blush is not from embarrassment or discomfort but unbridled excitement, I throw open the door.

  But it’s not Austin standing on the threshold.

  Cold night air rushes in. I feel it, but that is not what brings about my goose bumps. The sound of Cat’s and Lucas’s laughter floats from the living room. They are just down the hall, yet it suddenly seems as though they are miles away. And when the visitor’s identity finally breaks through my thick wall of self-denial, the rest of the world fades away.

  Reyna.

  Pressure mounts behind my eyes. I clutch my arms around my waist, and the row of bracelets on my wrist clink together with my tremors. I want to ask her, Why are you here? and, Why now? but my voice is strangled by the hopes and dreams that I know now will never come to be. Besides, I already know the answer.

  She’s here to take me home.

  Before I can tell Austin good-bye. Before I even learn if I won the lead in the school musical. And before my big performance in the workshop.

  Did I miss the third sign?

  I wrack my brain, trying to remember what she said the third sign would be and wondering how I could’ve missed it. But then, I know why. I was living in the moment, swept up in all this life has to offer—and ignoring what I knew was coming all along.

  And life will imitate art. That was the final sign. But art has always been Cat’s domain, not mine. How would I have known to look for it? When did it happen? The very fact that Reyna is here now, after sundown, proves it was today. But what was it?

  Fisting a hand over my mouth, I try to conceal my sob, wanting to be strong. For a moment, I believe perhaps my strength can make a difference, that if I act calmly I can somehow change her mind. But my attempt to hide my dread is useless—as useless as begging time to stand still—for nothing can stop the desperate moan building in my chest. It echoes off the cold, hard surfaces around me and reverberates in my ears.

  The television in the living room silences.

  “Alessandra,” Reyna says, her voice low and unforgettable. “You look well.”

  She dips her head, and I notice her long raven locks are disheveled. Almost as if she rode on the wind itself
to get here. I wouldn’t be surprised if she had.

  I shake my head at the wistful thought and swipe at a falling tear.

  Reyna studies my face carefully, and my nails sink into the flesh of my palms as I will myself to be brave. I’ve been here for fourteen glorious days. That is more time than I ever hoped possible a few weeks ago. My weak and senseless tears will do nothing to change my fate. What I need to do—what I ought to do—is show Reyna my appreciation, and let her see that her magic was not in vain. That I’ve grown during my short stay in the twenty-first century and become the strong woman I claimed to be back in my own.

  But the thought that I have yet to achieve the goal in my vision and may never see Austin’s face again crushes any shred of bravery I have in me.

  Swift, purposeful footsteps behind me let me know I’m no longer alone with our visitor. Cat’s rose scent envelops me as she wraps a supportive arm around my waist and squeezes me tight. Her shoulders stiffen with the confidence I wish I had in this moment.

  “Reyna, I’m surprised to see you so soon.”

  Cat’s tone is confused as she looks to me, perhaps wondering too when we missed the third sign. Wrongly, we had both thought I would at least have until after the performance; maybe that is why I grew so lazy in my watch. But unlike when Reyna appeared to bring Cat home to her own time, the gypsy’s arrival tonight should not have come as a shock to either of us—if only I had kept searching for the markers.

  Reyna hitches a dark eyebrow. “Alessandra knew that I would return when the third sign was revealed.”

  I release a shaky breath and look to my cousin. “And Alessandra failed to pay attention.”

  More footsteps approach. Cat glances back at Lucas, then meets my eye. In her misty brown depths, I can read the message almost as if she spoke the words aloud: the show is over. Alessandra Forlani is no longer. Lucas is about to meet Alessandra D’Angeli, time traveler. And how he will react to the true me is anybody’s guess. Reyna may be filled with gypsy mojo, but short of erasing Lucas’s memory, there is no way he can unhear or unsee what is about to occur. I would know, for the memories of the first time I saw Reyna, and of when Cat disappeared, have haunted me for the last two years.

  I squeeze my cousin’s hand for encouragement—about as much communication as I can offer in my speechless state—and give a faint smile. I do not envy the explaining she will have to do when I’m gone.

  Cat doesn’t appear too eager for the conversation, either. She takes a deep breath and turns back to Reyna. “When did life imitate art?” she asks. “I figured that wouldn’t happen until she was on stage. Opening night isn’t for another two days.”

  I didn’t think the iron vise around my chest could tighten any more, but I was wrong. Hearing aloud how close I came to recreating my vision from the tent brings me to the point of agony, and another moan escapes.

  Reyna pins me in place with the knowing look in her eye. “At rehearsal today, Alessandra, did you not connect with your role of Juliet? Find in her a kindred spirit? Understand her better because of your own emotions?”

  I nod, remembering that rush I felt once I’d made the connection—and how much I looked forward to experiencing that again in front of a spellbound crowd. My lifelong dream was just within my reach, so close that today the wispy tendrils actually brushed my fingertips. I could feel the heat of the spotlight, hear the packed audience’s thundering silence as they hung on my every word. I came so close to experiencing the surge of their applause. Cat and I had been sure that this was why Reyna sent me here, that the theater is where my real strength lies.

  Wasn’t that the point of her cryptic message?

  As if I she can read my thoughts, Reyna asks, “Alessandra, your time was spent living adventures and experiencing the world of possibility, was it not?”

  The fullness of her prophecy whispers in my mind—the adventure that you seek is full of possibilities, but always remember where your real strength lies—and I suck in a breath.

  I may have been wrong about the second part of the message, which, if I’m to leave now will forever remain shrouded in mystery, but thanks to Austin, I more than fulfilled the first half of it.

  Scenes from the last week chase the haunting words: my arms wrapped around Austin as we flew through the water on his Jet Ski, the sting of salt water biting into my cheeks. Holding his hand at Rush as the roller coaster slowly made its upward trek, and the security I felt as we plunged back to the earth, knowing I was safe as long as Austin was by my side. The way the waves pounded my board as he taught me to surf, and earlier, the scorching heat of his legs as he straddled my hips on the shore. And eclipsing each of the memories, though they all tug at my heart, is the exhilarating rightness of my very first kiss.

  Cat’s brow creases as she watches me, no doubt seeing the emotions roll across my face. “Adventures? Less, what is she talking about?”

  I shake my head, now not being the time to tell her about Austin’s challenge. She huffs a breath and steps closer to our unexpected visitor. “That doesn’t matter. Reyna, you said in your letter that you were leaving her in capable hands, and you trusted that I’d know what to do. And I do. Give her forty-eight more hours. Let her do her dress rehearsal tomorrow, and experience opening night, and then take her back.”

  My eyes widen at my cousin’s bold request. Reyna purses her lips, and Cat, perhaps sensing her tentative acquiescence, moves even closer. “She’s got this.”

  I just stand there, a passive observer in my own fate as they discuss my future. Where is the brave girl I claimed to be, the girl I’ve become the last week? The girl who stood up for Austin with his father and defied Kendal by auditioning? Apparently the thought of returning home has scared her away, for all I can do now is watch silently and pray that Reyna will say yes to Cat’s request. I doubt I’ll ever have enough time with Austin or in this world, but right now two more days feel as though they are a lifetime.

  Lucas shuffles his feet behind me, reminding me of his presence. I can’t even begin to wonder what he must be thinking. But I do not turn around and ask because Reyna suddenly bows her head. My breath catches, and Cat clutches my hand.

  “As you wish,” she tells Cat, her eyes trained on me. “She may remain until after the performance. I shall be waiting for her at the portal at midnight.”

  She doesn’t need to explain. A flash of the chaotic theater of etched handprints and stars leaps to mind. TCL Chinese Theatre, the location where I first arrived.

  Relief fills me to bursting as her words and their meaning sink in…and maybe a touch of something else, too, for as Reyna turns and walks away, I finally find my voice.

  “Can I stay…forever?”

  The words are out before I can even think about what I’m proposing, what it’ll mean. Cat stares at me as if I have lost my mind, and perhaps I have, but I can’t take back the request. Nothing in my entire life has ever felt as right as staying here.

  My heart aches with the admission. It feels like a betrayal to my parents—to Mama—to wish to stay where they aren’t. But what is truly waiting for me at home? A family whom I love with every piece of my breaking heart and whom I miss more than anything in the world, yes, but also a brother who lives in another city and parents who are growing older with each passing day, currently on the marriage hunt for me. Once I return, it will not be long until they make me a match, a suitor who at best will not be Austin, and at worse will be cold and indifferent. And after leaving the shelter of my familial home, I will be thrust into a life filled with propriety and rules, expectations and limitations.

  I have become too comfortable with the ways of this world. The freedom I am granted, the choices that I have. Here is where I’ve come to be the woman I always wanted to be, and can have the life I always dreamed of. Here is where I can create my own destiny.

  I don’t know where I’ll stay. I can’t expect Cat’s father will just take me into his home and accept that I no longer have one of my own
. But those are details for later. If Reyna agrees.

  A very important if.

  She takes her time turning back. I stand frozen in place, waiting to gauge her reaction, conjuring up a thousand possibilities. But when she does turn, I am unable to read her expression.

  Seconds tick by in anticipation. Not knowing whether I pushed too far is worse than any outburst.

  A car drives down the street. The engine rumbles; its headlights illuminate the porch where we stand, lighting our alcove like the noonday sun, then driving away, shrouding us again in darkness. My cousin shifts on her feet. Lucas coughs.

  Finally, just when I think I cannot take the silence any longer, Reyna asks me, “Is your request in earnest?” just as Cat leans close to my ear and whispers under her breath, “What are you doing?”

  My gaze darts between them, but I do not answer. I can’t. It took everything I had in me even to make such a proposition in the first place. But as I remain silent, I can’t help but feel as though I failed somehow when a flash of emotion crosses Reyna’s face. It takes me a moment to decipher it, but when I do, any shred of hope I held for my future is dashed.

  Disappointment.

  The smooth skin around Reyna’s eyes tightens. “Alessandra, staying here would affect much more than just you.” Her stare drills into me. “Such an act would change history.”

  As she emphasizes the final word, the amber color of her eyes seems to glow and swirl in the darkness, lit this time not from a passing car but from a mystical source within. The girl inside me who still believes in things like signs and hidden meanings wants to believe it is for a reason, that she is sending me a silent message of some kind. But when she speaks again, I realize that is simply the childish, wishful stirring of my imagination. And perhaps a touch of slanted moonlight.

  “I am truly sorry,” she says, “but a decision like that is not within my power.”

  Her emphasis, this time on the word my, catches my attention. I furrow my brow, marveling over what she could mean, what force could be at work in this situation that is greater than she is.