“My love,” he whispered to her before drifting toward sleep. “Ah, my love.”
“Some grand engagement day this is turning out to be,” she said as he was waking up. “You fellasleep,John. Howtotally humiliating to have had that effect on a man.” Butthere was laughter in her voice to temper the words.
Yes, he had been fast asleep. The first thing that struck him as he came floating up to the surface again was thathe felt different. Totally different. Unaware of his body,unaware of his breathing, unaware of his weakness, almost as if he were healthy again. Or as if—as if he had died and was waking up to a new world.
Hewashealthy. There was sudden conviction in the thought and his eyes shot open.
He found himself gazing into Allison’s accusing—and amused—eyes.
He knew her name. He knew her. He reached back cautiously and a little fearfully into memory and found that he had a memory that was not quite his own.
“Heavenly days,” she said, “you must have been very fast asleep. Where were you? A million miles away?”
A million miles? Two hundred years, actually. He had fallen asleep in Adèle’s arms. He had been very close todeath. He had known that. He had wished he had the energyto tell her how much he appreciated what she had done forhim, marrying him, surrounding him with her love so thathe might die in peace. And yet, honest within himself, hehad known that his own love, though real, was no matchfor hers. He had always loved her tenderly but without passion. Dear, gentle Adèle.
“Something like that,” he said, turning onto his side, turning onto the tall, slender body of Allison—who was hisfiancee.“Actually I was building energy. And don’t trycontempt on me again. You were sleeping too. It was along journey.” He was able to remember the journey andat the same time think of it in amazement. A red sportscar—no horses. London to Cardiganshire in one day. Wow!What had the world come to?
“Energy.” She set her arms about him and wriggled her legs out from under him, one on either side of his. Shepulsed suggestively beneath him and smiled at him fromhalf-closed eyes. “Interesting. Proof necessary. Lawyersare always armed with proof.”
Energy. He felt his strength and vitality with something bordering awe. It had seemed an eternity since he had beenable to do anything—even lifting an arm—without havingto gather every last ounce of energy for the effort. And ithad been an eternity—or two hundred years anyway.
They dispensed with clothes in a frenzied, undignified rush and made love on a gust of energetic and impassionedlust. He had never enjoyed making love more.
But then, he realized while they lay together afterward, panting and relaxing and smiling at each other, and whilehe found her hand and played with her ring with one thumband forefinger, he had never loved anyone as he loved Allison. She was the perfect mate for him—as energetic andas restless and as ambitious as he. And as much in need ashe of the anchor of love—married love.
“John,” she whispered to him. “Without meaning to be in any way critical of past performances, I would have tosay that that was by far the greatest. There were fireworks.And symphonies—with loads of percussion.”
“I shall try an encore later,” he said. “After dinner. Are you hungry?”
“Ravenous,” she said.
He had eaten nothing but gruels and liquids for longer than he could remember, though he was also able to recallthe vegetable curry he had eaten on the road from Londonearlier in the day.
“For food?” he asked her, leering at her. “Or for—” She punched him none too gently in the stomach. “Forfood,” she said. “But then later—dessert, please, sir.”Adèle called him “sir” when she was feeling lighthearted and pleased with him. It had not happened a greatdeal lately. Poor Adèle. Had he really died and been reincarnated? Was she grieving for him? He knew that Adèle would grieve in her own quiet, accepting way for the rest of her life. But that had been two hundred years ago.
And then, as he was tidying himself, ready to go down for dinner at the Cartref Hotel, he remembered something—-with the memory of the twentieth-century John Chandler.The Regency Viscount Cordell and his wife had lived along life here at Cartref. They had had children. He musthave recovered from his consumption, then. He felt dizzyfor a moment. Was he going to go back? Soon? He feltguilty, hoping not.
He was very deeply in love with Allison, he realized. He felt as if he always had been—or with the idea of her beforehe actually met her two months ago.
All that had been a week ago. They had spent their week in Cardiganshire on a sort of trial honeymoon, as they frequently told each other, laughing. But they had not spentall of it wandering the beaches and hills as he had intendedwhen they came. They had zoomed all about West Walesin his car, seeing the countryside and the places worth seeing, like St. David’s Cathedral and Pembroke Castle, sampling the quaint restaurants and pubs they passed oncountry lanes.
They had done one thing they had planned to do when they came, though—many things, actually. They had madelove enough to exhaust them both for a year, they hadagreed on one occasion before going at it again. He wasgoing to have to make an honest woman of her soon, theyhad both agreed, too.
In fact, all week they had seemed to be in total agreement over everything. In total harmony with each other.
He was afraid at first that he was going to have to go back. He was afraid every time he woke up that he would find himself desperately ill again with Adèle nursing him with her selfless love.
He knew why he was healthy, of course. This John Chandler was strong and healthy and resistant to tuberculosis. And he knew what must have happened—what he hopedhad happened. John Chandler—the twentieth-centuryone—had taken his place, taking his virtual immunity tothe disease with him. He had recovered and lived withAdèle for many years.
Had he felt trapped in the past? Had he been bitter about the separation from Allison? About having to give up allthe conveniences of late-twentieth-century living? Or hadhe found happiness with Adèle? Looking back into thememory of his new persona, John discovered that the otherman had been having some niggling doubts about his commitment to Allison. It seemed that he had been unsure abouthis lifestyle being quite compatible with hers.
They were leaving at the end of the week. They were taking one last stroll on the beach before starting back. Itwas early. The air was cool, with the promise of heat later.
“Now the weather turns perfect,” he said. “When it is time to go home.” He stopped walking, her hand in his,and gazed out at the old lighthouse. It was still used, theyhad learned in the course of the week, though everythingwas automated by now, of course.
She set her head against his shoulder. “But you are not sorry to be going back?” she asked rather wistfully.
“Sorry?” He rested his cheek against her hair. “No, of course not, love. It was great to come here. We both neededthe break. But I can hardly wait to be back at work. I leftsome cases that I want to conclude myself. I hate leavingloose ends for someone else to tie up. And I can’t wait to start looking for a flat so we can move in together—and plan the wedding.”
