"What happened?"
"I..." Her voice cracked. "I lost my baby a couple weeks ago," she said with thick emotion in her voice. Her lips twisted, threatening another fit.
Verity's chest constricted, and her hand touched her throat. She had seen the pain of a mother's loss. It was common back home, but she had never experienced it herself. Mothers mourned for weeks, tired and withdrawn, but they still functioned—shopped, washed, tended. The only thing that seemed to pull them back up was news of a healthy delivery. She couldn't imagine that kind of pain. "I'm so sorry."
"Everything was fine until the last minute and then...it wasn't." She inhaled a jagged breath. "Now I bury my face in work to keep my mind busy, even though these waves of pain catch me off guard. Sometimes I can hardly function. I don't know what I'd do without coming here every day."
Mathew never said Verity could stay in the future, nor that he even wanted her to. Sadness percolated into her, and a spear of pain struck her chest when she faced the truth—she would be returning to the past. "Please don't worry about your job. Even though Matt...Er, Dr. McCall seems to be struggling with something, you'll always have your job here. Soon it'll be all you again until Dr. McCall can hire a replacement."
"Oh, no. Where are you going?" Becca blew her nose into another tissue.
"Home," she said simply with a tinge of her own sadness.
"I'm sorry to see you go. You're a fine worker and a quick learner. We could use you around here, but if that's the case, then good luck to you. And thank you for everything."
"And to you," Verity said. The sadness of the conversation drew her down and she fought to crack a smile.
***
MATHEW SAT AT HIS office desk staring at a dreaded stack of ignored mail. He opened Quickbooks to download yesterday's data since he'd cut out early with Verity and hadn't done it. Grim as usual. He selected a random piece of mail and tore it open with his index finger. Letter number one informed him Internet service was going up an extra twenty bucks a month.
Great.
Next, property tax assessment. Value increase of over a thousand dollars, which meant a few more bucks a year for property taxes.
Great.
Next. An overdue payment notice for his SUV. Oops. Mathew logged in and set up the payment for today, plus the late fee. Ugh.
He needed a miracle to clear his mess. The idea of a lottery ticket still lingered. But the odds of winning were so marginal, the ten bucks would be a guaranteed waste.
If only he could go back in time...
Mathew patted the time travel trinket in his pocket. Perhaps he could go back in time and buy a lottery ticket and choose the winning numbers. But then he'd have to split the winnings with the true winner, and what if the true winner needed it for medical bills or something? He would feel retched for taking half their much-deserved winnings. What if he went back farther and invested a bunch of money? He didn't have a bunch of money. Catch-twenty-two. What if he opened a savings account and interest accrued over a long period, perhaps from 1853 to the present?
Mathew opened a savings calculator website and plugged in theoretical numbers to see what he'd get. To earn enough money over a century and a half to cover all his debts, he would have to invest ten thousand dollars in 1853's dollars. He didn't have that kind money, once again. Even if he did, how would he convert money from the present day to passable money in the past?
Mathew strummed his fingers on his desk. To start with, he needed cash. He locked his computer screen. Endless possibilities floated before his eyes. What would it be like to be free of the incessant buzzing debts? Would there be silence? Would he sleep soundly for once? Seeing a solution—albeit a very slim, long-shot of a solution—had his feet moving. Before he rushed out of his office, a whiney whimper from the surgical holding reminded him of the pup who'd been left waiting.
"Oh, hey, Becca? Did Mr. Van Grunden pay for Snoopy's surgery yet?"
Becca typed in her computer to bring up his file. "No, not yet. Do you want me to call him again?"
"Give him a gentle prodding, will you? Ladies, keep my calendar clear for the next hour. I'll be back." Verity and Becca exchanged confused looks. Mathew couldn't explain the out of character change of schedule, because he wasn't sure his plan would work. He needed to visit a place that had money. Mathew entered the credit union and, finding no line, stepped up to the teller.
"Good afternoon, what can I help you with today?" A young woman with hair pulled into a smooth bun smiled politely.
"I need a business loan."
"Sure, can I have your name?"
"Mathew McCall."
She lifted the handset of a multiline phone and said to him, "Please have a seat over there and someone will be with you shortly."
"Thanks." Mathew drummed his hands on the counter's edge a couple times before plopping into plush chair in the lobby. He watched the young teller call a loan officer. She smiled and nodded as if the officer could see her. So far, so good. His knee bounced in nervous excitement. If this idea worked, he'd be set. Debts would be gone, monthly cash flow would be comfortable, and he'd be free to buy a house, get married...
Wait. His leg stopped bouncing.
That word, married, popped into his head, and the first person he thought of was Verity. He pictured her screaming with excitement on the Ferris wheel. Even though his stomach took a beating, he enjoyed the ride. He pictured how her face lit up with eagerness to try new things, to taste new things. There was adventure in her that Mathew sorely lacked—that he didn't even know he wanted. The crushing emptiness lifted when he was with her. Was Verity the reason why his determination was finally going to succeed? What would it take for her to give up her brothers for him? He felt like a selfish bastard for even thinking it.
"Mathew?" A plump woman with smart eyes, a friendly smile, and a black suit held out a hand in greeting. Mathew stood and shook then followed her to her office. "I understand you are interested in a business loan?"
"Yes."
"Let me pull up your file and we'll get the application filled out."
Mathew gave her all the information she requested. He used the clinic as collateral. This had better pan out, or he'd just sealed the foreclosure notice on his future. His knee bounced while he watched the loan officer click away on her keyboard, eyes glued to her screen. She frowned, then relaxed. She squinted. Mathew's heart thumped erratically. It was too soon for the plan to fail. Please, please, please, he begged.
Finally, she smiled.
"Good news. You're approved. How would you like it?"
Mathew blew out a breath. "Deposit into checking, please."
Paperwork in hand, Mathew drove over to Kiko and April's house. He knocked on the door, mostly expecting no answer, but the door opened, and Mathew's brows lifted.
"Come on in," Kiko said.
Mathew entered and closed the door behind him. "I'm sorry for intruding after your family emergency, but—"
"I suspect you'll be needing some identification for Verity to fly," Kiko finished.
Mathew tilted his head. "How did you…?"
Kiko smiled but stayed silent.