Chapter Two

"This isn't my name," Amelia said with a frown, looking down at the little paper card awaiting her on the island. "What do these numbers mean?"

"It's your first name," Cooper said, between mouthfuls of cereal. "And if you stay, I presumed you would take my last name, because that's what you're used to. We'll change it."

Amelia picked up the larger sheet of paper, with a gold seal in the corner. "I wasn't born in 1990. I've never heard of these people, they can't be my parents."

Cooper sighed softly. "Did you really think anyone would believe that you were born 1867? A hundred and forty-eight years ago?"

"Oh, I suppose not," she mumbled. "But twenty-five? That makes me an old maid!"

She heard his catchy laugh, and she looked up just in time to see him get up and put his bowl in the dishwasher. "And to think Leo accused me of robbing the cradle!"

Although she hadn't heard this expression before, she quickly understood its meaning and smiled. It felt so easy again this morning, chatting, eating breakfast. Well, Cooper seemed a bit more rushed than normal, which she didn't understand, but most of the heaviness she felt at her bedroom door last night had lifted.

Cooper reached for his jacket.

"Are you leaving?" Amelia asked.

He looked up at her. "I told you I have to start going back to work."

"Oh," she said softly. "It's just that I get so . . . lonely without you here."

Cooper gave her a soft smile and walked closer to her. "I know. If you stay, I'll start giving you lessons to work on. And then, when you've passed the GED, you can go to classes."

Amelia liked it, the way he had all these plans for her, for them. In the bright morning sunlight, it felt hopeful to hear him start a sentence with "if you stay," not frightening like it did in the dark.

"Today, though," Cooper continued, "you can read. I uploaded a couple more books for you since you've read all the Willa Cather's. I was thinking maybe Edith Wharton. She's a little ahead of your time. More urban, too. But I think you'll like her. And I have a special treat for you."

"You do?" Amelia got up off her stool at the island to follow him.

"Remember when I explained movies to you? I've been waiting to turn on the television, I thought it might be too much. But there's a movie I think you'll love." He grinned at her. "Are you ready?"

Amelia nodded. The plain black picture frame sprang to life. She jumped slightly. "Oh, is it like my slate?" she asked, walking closer to it.

"It's very similar. I can explain the differences to you tonight. Ah, here we are. Shakespeare in Love."

"Can I touch it?" she asked, turning around to look at Cooper.

"Yes, in theory, but if you get fingerprints on it I'll have to clean it." Amelia snapped her hands away from the light. Cooper liked things very clean. "Come over here, sit down. I'll show you what to do."

She got up and returned the couch, and sat down when Cooper motioned to her. "Okay, this is called a remote control. We'll press this arrow button to make it start. When you've finished, all you have to do is press this square. And then the red button up here to turn it off. Do you understand?"

Amelia took the offered remote control. "Now?"

Cooper nodded, and she pressed the arrow. The screen turned black again, and the words "London 1593" appeared. "So, I just read the words there? Like a book? Like my slate?"

"At first. Give it a minute."

And, just as promised, the screen lightened and shifted, and slowly the view of a rough timber structure rose from the bottom. "Ooohhhh!"

"See, just like I explained it. A moving picture, a moving story."

"Oh, it's a theater in the round. Our teacher told us about these!" She watched some more, awe-struck. Then she jumped when the action started. "Why are that man's boots over a fire? Why are they doing that?"

"It's okay, it's all pretend, just like a play. Just watch."

Amelia watched until she realized Cooper was staring at her. "What?"

"You're so excited. I like seeing it."

"Are you sure you won't stay? Don't you want to watch it, too?"

"No," Cooper shook his head. "I have to go. I've seen it before, several years ago." His hand brushed hers for the remote and he pushed a button, everything on the screen freezing. Then he ran the back of his hand along the edge of her face. "Seeing how happy you are, I want to stay. But I can't. And you need time to think. Promise me you'll think about what I said last night?"

Amelia nodded, stung that Cooper didn't realize she had sat up half the night thinking. Had he not felt the tension on the other side of the door? Not that she was any closer to an answer.

He kissed her gently on her temple. "Oh, Amelia . . ."

Then he shoved the remote back at her, got up quickly, grabbed his bag, and he was gone.

At first, Amelia drifted up slowly, but then her eyelids fluttered rapidly as she questioned where she was. 'Oh, yes,' she thought. 'Cooper's. I must have fallen asleep on the couch.' It was especially strange when she woke up, as all of her dreams were still dreams of home and the prairie. Once or twice Cooper was there, but mostly not; it was her old life, this life of her dreams.

Her stomach growled and her mouth felt parched. Amelia sat up and rubbed her eyes, which felt oddly thick. Then it all came flooding back to her. The movie, Shakespeare in Love. She had sobbed and sobbed into the pillow Cooper kept in his spot. It was all so overwhelming; not just the magical movement on the screen, the soaring music, but the story had broken her heart. At first, she had believed theirs was love for all time; wasn't it the very inspiration for her beloved Romeo and Juliet? And there were scenes, when they . . . well, that was not at all how Amelia imagined it. It had shocked her at first to see that, so cavalierly on screen. But she had watched anyway, unable to tear her eyes away. Surely if you let your body move and arch like that for someone else, it was because they were your destiny. But Viola and Will proved to be two more star-crossed lovers, two more lovers separated by a journey and time.

Thinking of time, she muttered, "What time is it?"

Time felt strange and unfixed here in the future; she was trapped inside, the open sky was no longer above her, there was so little activity to help her estimate the hours. She looked up at the clock in the kitchen and was surprised to find it was the middle of the afternoon. She must have been exhausted from staying up late in the night, from this ache in her heart. A heavy decision, one she knew she needed to make. Cooper was right, they could not maintain this constant state of unpredictability, it was wearing them down.

"After I eat," she said firmly. She went to the kitchen and put two leftover slices of pizza in the microwave. Only as she watched it turning slowly through the little window, did it occur to her how easily she had done that, as though it was the most natural thing in the world. Yes, she needed to make a decision. If she changed too much, she would never fit back in at home.

The bell sounded and she sat down with her pizza. What did that fear mean? The fear of not fitting in at home anymore? Did it mean she shouldn't go back? Or did it mean it was calling to her? She didn't fit in here, in the future, either. Just two bites in, she had lost her appetite. She knew Cooper thought he was doing her a favor, giving her the choice again, giving her time to think about it properly, but all this thinking just made her head hurt and her chest ache.

Deciding she would read, just for a short while, just to clear her mind, she walked back toward the coffee table to pick up the magic slate. What was it Cooper called it? An iPad. What a strange name. She opened the cover and put in the code he had given her. 1867. The year someone named Marie Curie was born. Coincidently, the year she was born, too. They were the same age, Marie and Amelia. Marie would go on to change the world, Cooper had told her. But what would Amelia go on to do?

Just as she was about to press the only picture she understood, the picture of the little boy reading under a tree that said Kindle, the slate chimed in her hand and a small box appeared in the middle of the screen.

Amelia was confused. What was this? Was something wrong with it? And what did iMessage mean? She pressed on the box, hoping it would just go away. Touching things on this magic slate seemed to either make them start or make them go away. But instead a new screen opened, with gray and green boxes running down alternate sides. Amelia read, trying to determine what this was.

C: I need to see you. Today.

N: Brucie! It's been awhile! I thought you had forgotten how much this kitty likes to play.

C: I'm being serious.

N: So am I, Bruce. My back is already arching thinking of your pets.

C: In public.

Amelia's brow furrowed. Who was Bruce? And why was this Nicole-gray-box calling the green-box that had Cooper's name above it that? And why did she think he would be petting her like a cat?

N: I had no idea you were an exhibitionist! Do you want me to dance for your toy? Meow!

C: Today? Lunch?

N: Mmmmmm . . . maybe this kitty wants some cream for lunch.

C: Nicole. Answer the question.

N: You're so serious today, Bruce. Yes, lunch. It's been too long. This barn cat is in heat and can't wait for you Tom cat, you, to come and mate with me.

C: Our usual spot? 12:30?

N: Oh, we're mixing it up! Before instead of after! I'll be there with my bell on . . .

Amelia threw the Pad down with horror, as if it were burning her hands. She covered her silent scream, afraid maybe those two bites of pizza were not going to stay in her stomach. She ran to her room, wanting to be as far away from that horrible thing she had seen, throwing herself on the bed.

Squeezing her eyes shut, she tried to block everything out, tried to make it disappear. She was so confused and hurt and angry. She didn't entirely understand everything she had read, but the next to last sentence had been very clear. She was familiar with the mating of barn cats. Was this Nicole the cat woman Cooper had spoken of, whatever that had meant? And it seemed that this Nicole woman was planning on mating with Cooper. Who was calling himself Bruce for some reason. Why? And all those other things she was saying, the ways she was comparing herself to a cat, did they relate to . . . the physical act of love, also? Was cat woman some sort of euphemism for a - a harlot?

Amelia put her hand to her chest and curled around it. He had told her it hadn't happened in several months. But apparently it had happened that very day. Maybe it was even happening at that very moment. He had lied to her, telling her both that he wasn't seeing this harlot anymore and also that he was going to work.

There were no tears. Perhaps she had spent them all on that movie. Perhaps she had spent them all every night when she woke up in fear. Perhaps she had spent them all on Cooper. Yet another thing he had taken from her that she could never get back: her home, her time, her wedding ring, her love. And he planned on taking her innocence from her! Maybe he had only refused her offer when they were lying in bed together in the log cabin because he wanted to take her here, where she couldn't run away. Her life was ruined.

She felt so used and stupid. He had said he loved her, but now she wasn't sure she could believe him. How could he love her and lie to her? Maybe she had been wrong ever since she had set eyes upon him. Maybe this thumping, beating, turning thing in her chest wasn't love, but doubt. After all, she hadn't even known him for two weeks yet. What had possessed her to run away with him after only 48 hours? Maybe she had loved John, after all. Maybe that's what love really was, the ease of knowing someone your entire life, growing up with him, just assuming you would grow old with him. Why was she even considering marrying this man she had known so briefly? Yes, she could not deny her feelings for Cooper were so much more intense than anything she had ever felt for John, but maybe she had mislabeled them from the very beginning.

"This isn't life. This is a stolen season." That's what Viola had said in the movie. Amelia sat up quickly. Maybe Viola could be correct, maybe she could still get her life back. This strange season was stolen, yes, but it didn't have to define her. She could still get her old life back.

Amelia got up and quickly removed the clothes Penelope had given her. It occurred to her as she was almost ripping them off that Cooper had probably paid for them. Just as he thought he could pay for her. She wouldn't fold them, she would leave them in a pile on the floor. Because Cooper hated messes. Well, she would leave a mess for him to clean up. It was only a small pittance for what she had paid. She took out her green calico dress, her boots, her white apron, and she put them on. She picked up her folio of Shakespeare.

Hugging the book to her chest, she went to the living room, looking around. She pulled his desk chair away from his desk and turned it to face the door. She sat down. She didn't know how long she would have to wait, but she was determined to be sitting there when he got home. She didn't want there to be any confusion, any misunderstanding about what she meant. Having barely sat down, though, and adjusting her posture to be as straight as it could be, she heard the keys in the lock.

"Amelia! I came home early, I thought you might be bored and-" he stopped in the doorway, the keys still in his hand. "Amelia? Why are you dressed like that? And sitting there?"

"I've decided," she said, willing her voice to remain even and steady, willing her eyes to give off a steely glare. "I want to go home. Forever."

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