Mathew caught the proffered beer and crashed on the couch, slamming the whole bottle down on a single breath. It took the edge off, just slightly. He set the empty on the coffee table and forced his body still.
"Why did you tell me you had a family emergency?"
Kiko smiled. "You just needed some time."
"Time for what? Tell me what's going on." Mathew's leg bounced against the floor on its own accord. Kiko sat in the recliner across from him.
"Verity returned to her time. It was her choice."
"How?"
Kiko shrugged. "She asked."
"I didn't just imagine all this. She existed, right?"
"The dream study is a fabricated story that seems to work most of the time. She did exist."
"I don't like you talking about her in the past tense. What's the truth? No more lies." Mathew leaned forward onto his elbows, dying to jump out of his skin.
"My job is to match people who otherwise wouldn't be able to find each other on their own."
"With time travel?"
Kiko flipped her hand back and forth in the air as if demonstrating something, but Mathew couldn't see anything. "I am an agent of Chaos. We battle against the forces of Order. Personally, I think my brother-in-arms got the short end of the deal. He's the Fear Curator, but he likes it just fine."
What kind of gibberish was she saying? He didn't need to be convinced time travel was real. He knew that plenty enough. The rest of what she was saying sounded like he'd missed out on a whole other world right under his nose. "An agent of Chaos? How many of you are there?"
"Honestly, I don't know."
"Is this a government thing?"
Kiko pressed her lips together in thought. "No. Chaos and Order precede the government."
"A secret society? Like an order of crime fighters—or love makers, I suppose."
Her back was rigid straight, as if she was a guest in her own home. "Not exactly, but that's closer."
Mathew had so many questions. He believed what he experienced was real, but he couldn't wrap his brain around it.
"How does it work? Can I go back and forth whenever I want?" That would be a useful skill. His knee continued bouncing.
"I can't tell you how it works. But I create a tunnel through time, sending and pulling people to and from whenever and wherever I deem best in the pair's origin years only. But the trinket can only move people to the original source time and the corresponding return, so it's best for emergency returns only. Time isn't the same on both sides."
"So, I can go to her time or my time only?"
"Precisely." Kiko stood and carried his empty bottle, setting it into the recycle bin.
"And my three trips?" Mathew asked.
"You can go to 1853 and return home one last time. Then you can never go to the past again."
"I guess all is well then. I saved her from Jaime Perez, so now she's safely back home with her brothers. No paradoxes and no cataclysmic events. But you still owe me a trip to the police station." Mathew stood and walked to the front door. His hand paused on the knob, a question dancing at the back of his mind, but he failed to tease it forward.
"If you need any more assistance, please come visit."
He nodded. First thing in the morning he would place the call to order the sale of shares, then verify with Becca that she would come in to work. How was he going to run the place without Verity?
"Kiko?" Mathew turned.
"Yes?"
"Will you be at the clinic in the morning? I'm down an employee. Again."
She smiled, "Of course."
"Thanks." He left and drove home. He'd fulfilled the promise to himself to get Verity back home to her family where she was meant to be, but no, he didn't like it.
Verity was upset he didn't plan to propose after knowing her a week. The idea was nuts to him. But now that he thought about it, in 1853, expectations were very different. Why didn't she give him a chance to talk it through before leaving? The thought trailed off as he unlocked his front door, an empty ache settling in his chest. There was something nagging him about the whole thing. He just couldn't place a finger on it.
Chapter Fifteen
Navarino, Wisconsin
1853
VERITY BLINKED. She stood near the East river, and now it was a far healthier shade of bluish gray. A sign by the bridge to her west pointed to Navarino. Back behind her was Bridgeport. She wouldn't go south to Bridgeport and risk getting close to Jaime Perez's estate—Grignon's old one.
So, trekking through Navarino it was. Verity held an arm out to block the setting sun from her view. A shiver ran up her skin, and she realized she was wearing her expensive plum dress and heels—trekking through dirt. Little streaks of white piled in the crevices of the road. Snow? Her body was so cold, but as long as she wasn't spotted by anyone dangerous, she should be able to make it home—and not freeze to death first. For that one week, she'd had the best time of her life. Just her luck that it didn't last. She rubbed her bare arms.
Verity climbed the Fox River bridge and dodged to the side as a horse-drawn wagon of hay crested ahead of her. The rider tipped his hat to her and did a double take at her outfit. She smiled and turned her head down, crossing her arms for warmth and stepping faster.
If she couldn't find a ride, it would take her days to get home. She wished she had a black cell phone to call a ride, or have a cab come by with the flick of a hand. Oh, how things were so much easier in the future. The amusement park rides were thrilling and safe. The food was instant and mostly delicious. Artisans had any clothing available, and now being back home, Verity thought the whole idea was unbelievable. How would society get from this—covered wagons, farming, horses, bandits, pirates—to cars that run forever with some gas and people working at a desk?
Did she make the right choice in returning? Could she have made her riches in the future instead?
Verity slipped off her heels and held them in the crook of her finger. They weren't comfortable for long periods of walking. Her calves were tight, and her ankles hurt. She would deal with the cold on her feet instead. Coming up behind her she heard hoofbeats. Finally!
Verity turned and waved a hand at the traveler, a lone male rider on a young stallion.
"Hello! Can I have a ride? My feet are terribly sore from walking."
The rider, in a leather vest covered with a brown wool coat, pulled the reins to stop his horse. His mischievous eyes roamed her body. Verity stood absolute. She was out of her element, but she was still Verity Arris, capable of traveling by herself like any ordinary man. The last time she'd ventured out alone, she'd had a different outfit on, proper shoes, and a mount of her own—that she'd stolen.
He smiled and held out a hand for her. She climbed up behind him and he asked, "Where ya headed, miss?"
"Arris farm in Astor. Thank you."
"Verity?" he asked with surprise. Verity fidgeted with nerves and cold. She didn't like to be recognized. He continued, "You look mighty diff'rent these days."
"Uh, yeah. To the farm please."
The rider nudged the horse south toward Astor and Verity sighed in relief.