Chapter Two


She didn't remember freezing, but that's exactly what she did. Cooper had, too. Her breath was coming hard and fast as she panted into his chest. He squeezed her even tighter, and then Amelia heard his whisper in her ear, so close it made the delicate skin there hot, even over the melee around them, "Don't move. I'm going to turn on the cloaking device."

Afraid to even nod or acknowledge him, Amelia shut her eyes. All the dizzying joy she'd just felt coursing through her veins was replaced by pure, cold fear. No longer tipsy, she felt more sober than she ever had in her life. She felt Cooper's hands on her hair, touching her headband, pressing against her scalp and then the faint but unmistakable sensation of what could only be described as bugs crawling on her skin.

The cloaking device was activated.

Months ago, when they'd gone home to meet her parents, Cooper had invented a cloaking device to prevent the discovery of their time machine since it was necessary for them to leave it somewhere it couldn't be watched over. Thrilled with its success, he had tinkered and devised a way for the same small device to both activate the cloak on the time machine and to shield whatever object the fob itself was touching. Most importantly, that object could be a person.

It had always seemed more like an amusement to Amelia, and it had even turned into a bit of a party game on some Friday evenings when another friend would get to wear it while they tried ever more obvious and outrageous movements and activities. But from his serious face, Amelia knew it was not a mere game to Cooper. He took notes and videos, he muttered to himself about how to extend the range so that his feet weren't visible, for example. He planned and conducted numerous experiments with Amelia's assistance. Was there an optimal location on the body to wear it? Could more than one person use the device at the same time? What were the required parameters for making that a success? How fast could one move without being detected, without the objects behind him or her shimmering from the deflected light? Could one stretch out their arms? Jump? Clearly, screaming or even talking was not advisable but what about the barest of whispers?

Slowly, Cooper's arm lowered and she felt his palm on her back once more. She couldn't even see his face as they were still holding each other so close in the same position they had been when they were dancing. Instead, her face was pressed against his chest.

"There's a door behind you that others have run through," he whispered. Again, she more felt it than heard it. She knew it was not a single decibel over what Cooper had determined he could utter and remain unheard. "We can't let go. We have to move slowly," he reminded her, although she had not forgotten the results of all those experiments. She knew just how close they had to remain, how if she let go of him at all, he'd be seen. However, it felt good to hear the confidence in his voice.

"Just like dancing," he continued. "The tango. Okay?"

"Just like dancing," she mouthed back into his suit jacket.

"On three, I'll lead with right. One . . . Two . . . Three."

Amelia felt Cooper right's leg slide forward and she allowed her left leg to slide back with it. Then, gently, he helped her shift her weight to it. "Left," he whispered.

Gripping him tightly, burying her forehead even further into him, Amelia followed his slow and steady lead backwards, trying to imagine a tango song in her head instead of the cacophony of noises that still surrounded them, although now it was people moaning and crunching glass and the shouting of orders and the pop-sizzle of old-fashioned camera flashbulbs. She was dancing blind; even if she opened her eyes, she only saw the black and white view of Cooper's strong chest. This was just like her love had been for him all along, just like the first experience that led her to step into the time machine next to him: faith and trust in things unseen.

After several steps back, Cooper's nails dug into her side as he froze again. He didn't even risk whispering, but Amelia heard the approaching steps anyway. She felt what could only be described as a shift in the force field. Someone had come very close indeed.

"Charlie, whatcha doin'? You need to photograph the bar," she heard a voice call.

Then, so close it would have frightened her if there was room for any more fear in her, a reply, "I thought I saw something. Like those waves on pavement in the summer. And it feels funny over here."

Amelia felt her beaded handbag still swaying from the crook of her elbow, and she felt betrayed by such a small thing with the power to expose them.

"Feels funny?" the voice far away yelled.

"Yeah." Charlie's voice was close and very deep. "I can't describe it. Like there are ghosts here or somethin'."

"You read too many of those stupid paperbacks. Get over here and do your job or the chief will have both our hides."

Deep-voiced and curious Charlie moved away. Amelia felt Cooper's long exhale against her ear. "Right. But half-time." Their tango resumed but followed a slower beat.

Right slide, a pause for her heart to beat, left slide, another beat, repeat. Breathe in, breathe out. But not too much. Hold Cooper close, so close she felt sweat dripping down her chest between her breasts and her knuckles hurt from clenching the fabric of his suit. Never let him go. If you let him go, he's no longer your secret.

"There's a broken glass at your seven o'clock. Cha-cha one step to your right on three. One . . . Two . . . Three."

Together, they took the little rocking step and froze again, both of them waiting, she thought, for their movement to be noticed again. But no one said anything else. Finally, she felt Cooper whisper, "You said you wanted to go dancing. Tango on three."

Breathe in, breathe out. Hide Cooper away. You are his shield.

"The door opens in," Cooper said on pause. "It's cracked open, so I think we can just dance through it."

A minuscule nod. Just dance through it. Breathe in, breathe out. Hold Cooper close. Amelia jumped slightly and squeaked when the door knob struck her rear end. "Shhh," Cooper whispered. Never let him go, never let him show.

"Okay, we're in." Slowly, Cooper backed away slightly and she was able to look at him. Because they were both still in the force field, she could see him but he was light and blurred around the edges, just as she knew she was to him. She heard and felt his foot kick at the door, swinging it shut behind him.

Amelia held her breath as Cooper stretched his arm out to finish latching the door and to turn the lock, his limb starting to darken as it reached the very edge of the forcefield. What would have happened if the door wasn't shut and his arm had been seen? He was so tall, for that matter, what if his feet had been seen with each step he took back? Even with his precise moments, the lock still made a clicking sound as it engaged and they both jumped. Afraid to let go, they stood, huddled and barely breathing, straining their ears to listen for footsteps approaching the door, for curious Charlie to come looking for his ghosts. But no one came.

"I think we're clear," Cooper whispered.

Letting out a long exhale, Amelia nodded and stepped away from him. As she reached up to turn off the cloaking device, she realized for the first time, as Cooper returned to his full form, that his skin was glistened with sweat and the front of his shirt looked damp from where they had gripped so tightly. She looked around the space that appeared to be a storage room with wooden crates and boxes stacked, some of the open lids revealing bottles of alcohol. It was dusty and dim, but she knew without asking that it would be too risky to turn on the bare light bulb hanging from the ceiling. They would have to make do with the pale angled light from the streetlamp that was coming in the small, half-window near the ceiling.

"The window," Amelia whispered. "Look, it's open. And there are boxes right there. That must be how everyone else escaped." Cooper nodded and she took a few quick steps across the space, putting a foot up to climb out.

"Wait!" Cooper whispered yelled. "Do you have a compact in your purse?"

Pausing, Amelia reached into her little beaded bag, and pulled out the small make-up mirror. She watched as Cooper opened it, came to stand on the box next to her, and stuck it out the bottom of the window, first facing one direction and then the other.

He sighed deeply as he pulled it back. "There's a policeman at the end of the alley."

"We'll go the other way. We have the cloaking device."

Shaking his head, Cooper frowned. "There is no way we'll both fit through this window together. And I think it will be impossible to be silent."

Amelia bit her lip and looked around the storage room. They couldn't stay here. Before long, someone would come and break down the door and try to find all the illegal alcohol. It was actually surprising that no one had come yet. Time was of the essence, she knew.

"Here," she handed Cooper her purse as she reached up and ran her hand through her hair, messing it.

"What are you doing?"

"I'll go out, distract the policeman, hopefully draw him away from the alley, and then you can escape." She reached over to run her fingers through some dirt and she smeared it on her arm.

"Amelia! No! You'll be arrested! You're coming out of a speakeasy that was just raided and - Why are you putting dirt on yourself?"

"To look like a damsel in distress." She reached down, gritted her teeth and ripped the bottom of her dress, sending a few tiny beads scattering.

"A - a what?" Cooper's eyes were round and his mouth was open in disbelief. "This is crazy! We'll find a way to leave together."

"There isn't a way to leave together, and you just said yourself we both can't fit through that window." She said firmly, "The best plan is distract the policeman and get him away from this alley so that you can escape."

"But what if you can't? What if more police show up? What if it takes too long and someone comes through that door? It will all be too suspicious, you pretending goodness knows what with me hiding down here!"

She put her hand out to touch his cheek. "Cooper, I can do this. I'm acting all the time, remember? Only with you can I truly be myself. This is just one more person to fool. It's okay, we'll regroup in the hotel room. Oh, I'll need my key."

"This is absurd! And dangerous!"

When he didn't hand over her room key, Amelia took her bag back from him and dug it out of her purse. Glancing down at her pocketless dress, she shrugged and stuffed it down her bra. A pause and then she put a subway token in the opposite side. She held her bag back out to him. "There's some more subway tokens in there you might need. Everything else you can throw away."

"Amelia!" He took her purse, but it seemed like his arm was on auto-pilot as his face didn't change. "I really don't think we should separate!"

Ignoring him, she reached up to unhook the time machine key from her headband and held it out to him. "Just in case I can't get him completely away from the alley. It will at least help."

Her husband stared at her a moment, his mouth still slightly open, and then he licked his lips. "I'm not going to talk you out of this, am I?"

"No. We don't have time to argue." She smiled to try and reassure him, to belie that her own heart was pounding in fear. "Think of it as an adventure. Tell yourself it's just another one of my stories that no one will ever believe."

He put his hand over her extended one, wrapping her palm around the key. "No, you take it. It's the only one we've got. Wear it and move away from the policemen. It's a long alley and it's clear in that direction. You know how to move correctly, he won't see you. There's bound to be a cross alley. Take the first one you find and run. Just run away, Amelia, the other way."

"No. I'm not running away until I know you can get out, too."

"Amelia, Amelia, my love." He reached for her and pulled her forehead against his. "Promise me you won't try your plan unless you get caught. Promise me you'll run. Promise me."

The anguish in his voice tore through her. He really didn't think she could do this, that they could do it. "I promise," she whispered.

"And promise me that when you get back to the room, you'll open the safe and read the document I put in there earlier."

She snapped her head sharply away from him. "What?"

"I don't have time to explain. I wrote while you were getting your hair done. It's important, Amelia - vital! It could be essential to your safety."

"Cooper, you're worry -"

"Please, please," he whispered, squeezing her hand harder around the time machine key. "Go, wear this, be safe, and read it."

A firm nod. He let go of her hand and they didn't speak as he helped her reattach the key broach to her headband and turned it on for her. Then he leaned closer, putting his hand on her shoulder which made him shimmer and lighten, and he kissed her softly. "Amelia. I love you. Remember that you are the bravest person I know." He pulled away completely, his form becoming firm now that he'd lost all contact with the force field. "Go."

It was not as tight of a squeeze through the window as she feared, which was good because Cooper couldn't see her to help push her up. She ground her teeth to keep from grunting. No sooner had she landed flat on the pavement of the alley, her limbs spread out, than the policeman stopped whistling and turned around. She held her breath as he turned the weak beam of his flashlight down the alley.

"Rats," she heard him mutter as he switched off the light and turned back around.

Closing her eyes and breathing out, Amelia slowly stood, watching for any rodents. She looked back toward the open window, Cooper's shadow barely visible. She smiled. It was a habit, a reflex, and then she let it fall into a frown, realizing he couldn't see her. Did he know, though, that she was standing?

Carefully, wincing with each slight thud that her high heels made on the asphalt, she walked down the alley, away from the policeman, until she found what Cooper predicted she would find: another alley crossing. For a brief second, it crossed her mind that maybe she should turn and run down this alley, just as Cooper ordered her to do. No. If she did that, the policemen would still be waiting for him. Cooper without a cloaking device. She cursed silently.

Never let him go, never let him show. Hide Cooper away. You are his shield.

Ducking around the dark corner, she strained her eyes to see if she was alone. Thinking she was, she reached up and turned off the cloaking device. Mouthing a silent apology, she slid off her thin silver wedding ring and put it on the opposite hand. She squeezed her eyes shut and slammed her foot into the brick wall, both to scuff her shoe and to bring tears to her eyes. Good.

She turned back out into the main alley, looked at the back of the policeman in the distance, felt the first tear run down her cheek, and she ran, yelling, "Help me! Help me!"

In her panic - not entirely or even mostly artificial - she could barely see the policeman turn around and shine the flashlight in her direction.

"Officer, officer! Oh, thank God!"

"You there!" he called. "Where did you come from?"

"Oh, officer, I'm so lost and frightened! A man tired to accost me on the street and he wanted to violate my person and I threw my purse in his face and I ran and he chased me down a dark alley and now I'm so lost and frightened and you've got to help me!" She told the story as she continued to run, tears running down her face, her heart hammering her chest.

"Officer, you've got to help me!" she sobbed, throwing herself at the man's dark blue uniform. "I'm just here visiting from Kansas and I've never seen a city so big and so scary before!"

There was pause, and then Amelia felt his big, beefy hand pat her back. "There, there, darlin'. A pretty little thing like you shouldn't be out here all alone in the big city."

Amelia allowed herself a small smile into his uniform. But she wailed, "I should have never left Kansas!"

"There, there. You're safe now." The policeman pushed her away, and Amelia quickly rearranged her face into one of terror and relief mixed together. It wasn't difficult as that was exactly how she felt for a completely different reason. He left his arm and led her toward the busy avenue in front of the speakeasy. "Do you think you have enough strength to tell me what this man looked like?"

"Oh! He was -" Amelia scrambled for the words, even as she kept moving one foot in front of the other, further away from the basement window. "He was so - fat! Yes, very fat. And short. And he had blond hair. I can't be sure but I think he's eyes were brown. Or maybe black. They were so dark and scary!" She forced another sob out prove her point. And to stop herself from saying too much.

"A short, fat man with blond hair?" the policeman asked, as they finally turned the corner away form the alley.

"Yes! And a mustache!" she added.

In other words, nothing at all like the man she hoped would shortly be emerging from the very same alley.


"If you change your mind about filing that report, please come down to the station. Ask for me, Officer O'Reilly. It would be my pleasure to assist you further, miss."

Amelia nodded in front of her hotel room door. "I'll do that. Thank you so kindly for all your help." Then she added firmly. "I really should go in. My sister was feeling quite poorly and will be wondering what took me so long to buy some cough syrup." She clutched the brown paper sack around the useless elixir that Officer O'Reilly had insisted that he stop and purchase for her on the way home.

Her story had been thus: She and her elder sister were visiting New York City for the first time, having won the trip from Collier's magazine. However, her sister had fallen ill just that evening with a horrible chest cold and Amelia had ventured out alone to locate an open pharmacy in order to procure some cough syrup when she had been set upon. Now, back at her door, calmer in her certainty that Cooper surely must be on the other side, given how long it was taking her to extricate herself from Officer O'Reilly's concern for her wellbeing, she wondered why he had believed such a thin and hastily concocted tale in the first place.

"Good night, miss." He doffed his hat to her and turned to walk down the hallway. Just as Amelia was about to unlock the door, he turned sharply. "I just realized I never got your name."

"Oh, it's Am - Amy. Amy -" she gripped the bottle of Dr. Fowler's Miracle Cure harder "- Fowler." No, she shouldn't have said that. He might notice the connection to the random bottle Amelia had selected in a rush from the shelf at the pharmacy.

"Amy? That's unusual."

She breathed. "It's very common in Kansas. We like simple names. My sister's name is - is Penny."

"Well then, good night, Miss Fowler. And promise me you won't venture out alone again."

"I promise. I'll never travel alone again. Good night."

At last he was gone, and Amelia rushed into the room, slamming the door behind her. "Cooper!" she yelled.

But the room was still dark and quiet except for one lamp they'd keep on before they left this evening. Just a few hours, but it seemed like ages ago. "Cooper?" Setting the bottle of drugs on the nearest table, Amelia ran through the suite, turning on lights as she went, calling her husband's name in ever more hysterical tones.

Where was he? He should have been there. The speakeasy was only a couple of stops on the subway line from their hotel. Her plan, while successful, had been unduly protracted by just happening to run into the most chivalrous police officer on the New York City force, she was certain.

Officer O'Reilly had insisted that she drink a cup of bitter black coffee from the Thermos in the police car "to steady your nerves," he looked at her with kind and concerned eyes as he asked her numerous questions about why such "a young thing as you" would be out so late at night. Amelia supposed she should be grateful that he seemed unaware of the latest fashions, because her beaded and fringed black gown was certainly made for dancing and carousing, not for a quick run to a pharmacy for an ill non-existent sister. He insisted on driving her back to the hotel but only after a stop at an all-night pharmacy that he knew "was safe, not one of these fly-by-night bootleggers selling wood alcohol as medicine." She hadn't even been able to shake him at the front door of the hotel because he's accompanied her inside "should you need assistance in obtaining a replacement room key." Terrified that the desk clerk would tell him who she was or mention Cooper, Amelia had been forced to admit her key was located on her person in a rather delicate location. "My sister always insisted," she explained with a very real blush, causing the officer to blush himself and look away. Earlier, riding up the elevator, she tried to think only grateful and kind thoughts for the policemen, who really was a credit to the force even if his concern was driving her mad with impatience.

But now, her chest getting tighter by moment, Officer O'Reilly was forgotten. Where was Cooper? Standing by their bed, Amelia's thought whirled: What if someone had come the basement storage room while she was running down the alley, before he could escape? What if he was seen escaping? Or walking down the alley? What if he had been arrested? What if she had to go to the police station tomorrow and find him? The elaborate and completely false tale she'd told Officer O'Reilly would only make everything worse for both of them. What if something else altogether had happened to him? There were thugs with guns in the speakeasy, she'd seen them. What if one of the bootleggers came back to the speakeasy? What if Cooper was accosted on the street because of his fancy night clothes? After all, the policeman had not seemed surprised by Amelia's tale of crime. What if - ?

She sat down on the bed with a hard thump. He had another plan. That had to be it. Everything had seemed so final when he said good-bye to her in that basement, the way he'd kissed her and told her he loved her. He had another plan and it was dangerous. But what could it be? And why would he lie to her? And why was he so cryptic about her survival?

Moving swiftly, Amelia walked toward the closet and looked at the big black safe. They'd marveled over when they arrived, the very need for one so large. "I guess it's for all the bootleggers that rent this suite," Cooper had shrugged. Although it had been advantageous for counterfeiters, too, as they decided to use it for their own illegal funds. Turning the dial, Amelia spun the heavy door and saw the folded sheet of paper sitting on top of their stacks of cash.

Reaching in, her breath coming shallow, she unfolded it and read.

"Directions for programming the machine to return home, should you have to leave without me."

A strangled cry emerged from Amelia's throat as she put a hand over mouth and skimmed the numbers directions beneath it. And, then, worst of all, at the very bottom: "My dearest Amelia, if fate forces you leave on your own, do not be afraid. You are the bravest person I know. Do not fear I have been lost to time. Because, as you are aware, our love exists in a plane where time is meaningless, beyond the fourth dimension. We will always be together there, among the stars."

To be continued . . .


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