"Penny for your thoughts, love?"
Ellie had paused in front of the building where she once taught, spending several minutes deep in her own thoughts. When she didn't respond, Christopher let go of her hand, wrapping his arm around her instead. Ducking his head to press his lips to the top of her head, he lingered with his face in her hair, inhaling slowly. Pulling her into his chest, he touched the side of her face with his free hand.
"Els? Everything okay?"
Resting one hand on his forearm, she turned to kiss the palm he'd laid against her cheek.
"Sorry. Just got...lost for a minute."
Christopher chuckled, fluffing the back of her hair with his fingers. "Shall we go in?" He let his arms fall away again, taking her by the hand and tugging gently to lead her forward. Her eyes were still wide with recollection as he drew her closer to the familiar building. Looking back at her over his shoulders as they started to climb the old stone steps. "Let's see what kind of trouble we can get into."
They crossed the threshold entering the building, blending in among small groups of people ambling into and out of the massive wooden doors. Pausing again just a few steps inside, Ellie turned in a quick circle to take in the old and the new. Flat-screen monitors now adorned the expansive entrance hall, but they could have easily stepped back in time without them.
"Els, come look at this." Christopher had walked ahead, and Ellie could see him down the hall, holding out his hand and staring at rows of photos lining the wall. As Ellie got close enough to take his hand, her eyes flicked up to the plaque above the pictures, dated ten years earlier to commemorate a century of women who had taught at the medical school.
"I'll bet you're on here." Ellie hesitated but let him pull her forward until he stopped, pointing at the frame in front of him with a wide grin. "Like I said."
She took a breath when she caught up with him. There she was, among dozens of noted women physicians. Eleanor Jones, M.D. 1976-1980. Transfixed by the old photo of herself, frozen in time and yet looking older because of the era she was photographed in, Ellie couldn't help but raise her fingers to the glass. When she would teach, she often donned glasses to help counteract the appearance of youth, and the hexagonal frames she wore at the time served their purpose well.
"You know, I always liked the glasses look," Christopher said softly. Chuckling when Ellie wrinkled her nose in response, he leaned closer and pushed her hair over her shoulder so he could brush the tip of his nose along her neck. "Dr. MacDonald."
Ignoring the flush that blossomed across her cheeks, Ellie's attention diverted to the sound of approaching footsteps in the hall. Noticing her sudden tension, Christopher positioned himself in an attempt to shield Ellie's face from view. His effort, however, came a second too late. One of the men looked back over his shoulder a few steps past them, looking back and forth between Ellie and the image of her from decades ago.
"Dr. Jones?"
The gray-haired man took a few steps closer, and Christopher dropped one hand to Ellie's waist. He rubbed his thumb against the skin of her lower back just above the top of her skirt, hoping to project calm through the simple touch. It only took a second for Ellie to recover, the muscles that tensed at the sound of her former surname relaxing almost immediately. Before she could speak, however, the man shook his head.
"Of course, I'm sorry. You couldn't possibly be Dr. Jones." He laughed loudly at the absurdity, nodding toward the picture wall. "But my goodness, what a strong resemblance..." His laughter ceased, and his head tilted to the side as his gaze focused intensely on Ellie's face.
Ellie's head whipped toward the wall, letting her hair shield the side of her face as she took a deep breath. When she faced the man again, she wore a broad, friendly smile. "Dr. Jones," she said warmly, having made the quick decision to lean into the awkward situation, "was my aunt. I was named after her." Ellie held out her hand. "I'm always pleased to meet people who knew her. Ellie MacDonald."
"The pleasure is mine, I assure you," the old man said, returning her smile and taking her hand and shaking it firmly. "My name is Dr. Rich." He looked back at the old picture again. "Your aunt knew me as Matthew." Glancing at Ellie seconds later from the corner of his eye, the man tapped his chin. "Wait just a moment." His eyes grew wide. "Ellie MacDonald. Dr. Ellie MacDonald? From Boston?"
Ellie could feel Christopher's fingertips beginning to curl more tightly around her hipbone. Trying to keep them both calm, she placed one hand over his. "Yes."
Matthew Rich threw his head back and laughed again. This time the high-pitch of his slightly manic cackle made her jump. She nearly tripped over Christopher's shoe as she instinctively stepped backward.
"What's funny?" Christopher's lips barely moved, and the man composed himself at once.
"I'm so sorry." The man held out his hand again, this time to shake Christopher's. "Mr. MacDonald, I presume?"
"This is my husband, Christopher," Ellie interjected, touching his chest with her left hand as the two men shook hands briefly. "But please, Dr. Rich, do share what was so amusing?"
"My apologies," he said, clearing his throat. "It's just such a very small world. I believe I had the pleasure of working beside a former colleague of yours, a Dr. Cullen. I was in residence for a week-long exchange in Boston with several of our own surgical fellows. He demonstrated an arterial repair technique that he credited you with bringing into common practice as Boston Medical Center."
"Oh." Ellie could feel her eyebrows racing to her hairline.
Dr. Rich nodded, excited once again. "The technique is quite genius - Dr. Cullen mentioned he hadn't had the opportunity to learn it from you personally though because you had moved on in your practice." He paused as if waiting for Ellie to volunteer where she moved to.
"I, uh..." Ellie trailed off, flustered by the intensity of Dr. Rich's unspoken inquiry and frustrated that she couldn't seem to recall him from her past.
"It seems," the man continued a moment later as if he didn't notice her stammering, "that the incredible likeness you share with your aunt goes far beyond your name and appearance."
"Ellie," Christopher said quietly, eyeing Dr. Rich as he spoke, "I think we should be on our way."
"Oh yes," Dr. Rich replied, quickly picking up on Christopher's unspoken cue, "please don't let me keep you. I must be moving on as well." Reaching for Ellie's hand to shake it once more, he smiled. "Truly a pleasure, Dr. MacDonald."
They watched him retreat down the hall to catch up with the group he'd been walking with before Christopher pulled Ellie in the opposite direction, stopping in front of a door and pushing it open. So distracted by the bizarre exchange with her supposed former student, she paid no attention to where he led her. All she could think about was running the faces of medical students named Matthew that she'd once taught.
"Christopher," she hissed as he tugged her along down a long set of steps between rows of seats lining the raised sections of the small theater-style lecture hall. He didn't stop until they reached the central platform at the front of the room. Turning to face Ellie and taking her hands in his, he leaned forward to brush his lips over hers.
"Chris," she whispered, trying to steady her breathing. "I don't remember him. Not at all."
"Breathe love." He closed his eyes as the sound of her heart's frantic pounding filled his mind. "First of all, you handled that beautifully."
"But—"
He silenced her by placing his fingertip on her lips. "Els, breathe." This time, she followed his instruction, taking several slow deep breaths. When her heart rate began to settle, he pulled his finger away.
"Maybe he remembers you being on the faculty but was never actually in your class," he offered with a shrug. "Human memories are fallible and easily confused." Brushing his fingers over the side of her face, Christopher tried to gently ease the lines of worry that creased the corners of her eyes. "I know you're freaking out. But you're safe, and I don't think he means any harm. We'll talk to Carlisle when we get to New Hampshire, okay?" When Ellie nodded, he kissed her still-furrowed brow.
"This is your fault, you know," she said, leaning her head against his chest.
"How's that now?"
She poked his sternum, looking up at his face. "Let's see what kind of trouble we can get into," she repeated back to him, dropping the tone of her voice several octaves to impersonate his.
Laughing, he pulled her into a hug before turning her around so her back was against him. Wrapping his arms around her midsection, he rested his chin against the top of her head.
"Hush. Look around, love. Does this look familiar?"
Christopher turned them slowly in a semi-circle so she could take in the full visual effect of the room. It was only then that she realized he hadn't picked a random door just to exit the hallway. In this very hall, Ellie used to teach courses that introduced medical students to essential elements of clinical practice.
In her mind's eye, Ellie could see a room full of people, each a medical student with their pen at the ready to take down every word she spoke, with one notable exception. Not long after they met, Christopher made a habit of sneaking into her evening lectures, sitting in a dim corner in the back. He would spend at least half of her class murmuring under his breath, egged on by reactions that Ellie's students would never notice but couldn't escape his vampire senses.
Christopher slid his hands to her waist, moving her with him as he focused on a specific corner of the hall. When her gaze fixed on the seat against the wall, Ellie giggled and leaned against his chest.
"The things you used to say up there."
Ducking his head to rest his chin on her shoulder, his breath fanned across her skin. "You always did like to keep me after class."
The following morning the sun broke past the horizon after they cleared the Chicago city limits, lighting up the highway that stretched for miles in front of them. Ellie watched a smile grow on Christopher's face in proportion to the purr of the engine as he picked up speed on the open road. When he noticed her watching him, he grabbed her hand and winked.
"I think we might have to get one of these, Els."
Ellie laughed, linking her fingers through his and resting their joined hands against her thigh.
"Are you going to let me drive at some point?"
Christopher let out a dramatic sigh, like a child agreeing to share a treasured toy. "I suppose." Smiling again, he looked over, squeezing her hand. "You'll love it."
A small smile crept across Ellie's lips, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. She turned her head, quietly watching out the window for several minutes until Christopher nudged her knee.
"Still thinking about your friend from yesterday?"
"It doesn't make any sense, Chris. Even if he wasn't actually in my class, the name should be familiar. There weren't that many students back then, and I covered other people's classes a lot." Turning her head to look at him, she dragged her free hand through her hair. "Until I met you, it's not like I had anywhere else to be."
Christopher set his mouth in a line, studying the confusion on his wife's face. She'd tossed and turned as she slept, and he could see the dark circles that betrayed a poor night's rest under her eyes. He reached into his pocket and withdrew his cellphone.
"How about we call Carlisle now? See what he knows of this Dr. Rich?"
When Ellie nodded, Christopher scrolled through his contacts and dialed Carlisle's mobile. He picked up after only one ring.
"Hello, Christopher. Is Ellie with you?"
"Hi Carlisle," Ellie replied.
After a quick exchange of pleasantries, Christopher cleared his throat. "Carlisle, did Alice clue you into why we were calling?"
"Actually," Carlisle replied, and Ellie could picture him leaning forward at his ancient desk, "she could only see that you would be. She said something happened yesterday, but she hadn't been able to make out exactly what." Ellie and Christopher exchanged a long look, and they could hear Carlisle shifting in his chair when they didn't respond. "Is everything all right?"
"Carlisle," Ellie spoke up, sitting forward, "something weird did happen yesterday. Do you happen to know a doctor named Matthew Rich?
It was Carlisle's turn to fall silent, and Christopher could see Ellie starting to get nervous when the name didn't immediately spawn a recollection.
"No," he finally said, and the color drained from Ellie's face. "I don't believe I've ever met anyone by that name."