A Twist in Time

Epilogue

It was late afternoon, though you could not tell the time inside the Exploratorium. Pony was too young for any but the simplest of exhibits, but Lucy had to admit that the Exploratorium was way more fun with a child in tow.

Galen bent over their daughter’s flaming red head, showing her how to look through a lens at some fish that glowed in the dark. She giggled and shrieked with delight.

Galen and Lucy had traded in the Camelot for a fifty-three-footer, better for a family with a dog. Apparently, no one at whatever agency Casey worked for believed that there had ever been a time machine, or maybe everyone was just engaged in a gigantic cover-up. A brief note of apology from the Secretary of the Navy no less had been waiting for them in Santiago, noting that some rogue operatives had expressed some strange ideas that were officially non-sanctioned and that any inconvenience would be compensated. That was scary because someone knew where they were and who they were. But nothing more materialized. And that was that. No one was after them.

Galen’s hair was shorter and streaked blonder from the sun since they had been in San Francisco last. He was as gorgeous as ever. He could still send her spinning with a touch. He now spoke English with barely an accent. Tanned from their years at sea, he looked like the sailor he was.

What he didn’t look like was a prominent environmentalist. His papers on how to manage population density had gathered quite a following. Using the identity Jake had provided, Galen had become the face of a new environmental consciousness. He sponsored conferences and refereed feuds between factions, even authored legislation. It had as much to do, Lucy suspected, with his strange magnetism as his sensible ideas. He was a natural leader. They figured out together which issues to tackle and how to use his new “talents.” She doped out the right agencies and NGOs to enlist in their cause. Galen had been right. She had a lot to offer. They were better together than either would have been by him-or herself. They’d worked for four years to establish Galen’s credibility.

So they were ready for the latest challenge.

They’d met yesterday with the head honchos from the Berkeley Seismological Laboratory and the U.S. Geological Survey out of Menlo Park to propose a private/public partnership establishing a serious earthquake prediction center. The only thing that had gotten them the meeting on such a crackpot idea in the first place was Galen’s reputation.

What got them the commitment was a demonstration. Galen had told the scientists about every earthquake—both the intensity and the site—that would occur in the next two hours around the globe. Then he and Lucy had gone down to the cafeteria for coffee and to get Epona an orange juice. Quite an exit. They’d left everyone sputtering. But two hours later, Dr. Magnussen himself had sought them out in the cafeteria, his tone all humble pie, and it looked like serious efforts were going to be made to fund this venture. Galen could give people enough notice to leave the quake zone. He was up to predicting three to five days in advance for serious quakes. Millions of lives could be saved. Maybe they could use his predictions to discover a way to predict quakes on their own. It would give him even more credibility as he tried to get the peoples of the world used to working for the earth, not against it.

Or maybe it would be her daughter that completed Galen’s mission. Epona had been conceived on that very first night, the vernal equinox, as far as Lucy and Galen could figure out. Lucy sometimes looked into Pony’s blue eyes and saw something stirring there. It frightened her. But Galen had learned to live with his gifts, and she supposed Pony could learn to live with her own, if it turned out she had them.

“Mommy,” Pony shrieked. “Come and see the fish.”

Lucy smiled. Galen looked up, his expression soft. Hardly like a Viking warrior at all. He was a good man and true, constant in his love for her and patient with Pony. He’d never once said he wanted a boy after Pony had arrived and been named for his mother and her horse goddess. He’d get one now, of course. Lucy patted her stomach. In about another five months. That was one reason why they’d decided to come back to live in San Francisco again. No more babies delivered in Thailand. It was time to come home from the sea.

Jake, as it turned out, had left the apartment house to her in a hastily made will before Casey had gotten to him. And she happened to have a gift for the stock market. You can trade from anywhere with a satellite phone and an Internet connection. So she and Galen were more than set. They could fund his efforts to save Gaia from mankind till the cows came home.

She leaned over, and the weight of Leonardo’s book in her bag jostled Pony. “Sorry, honey,” Lucy said. “Oooh, those are great fish.” She’d taken to carrying the book around with her again ever since they hit land last week. It was a little worrying. She thought she’d left that whole obsession thing behind her. Other than her obsession with Galen, of course. That hadn’t abated one bit. Nor had his for her. She’d had to unlearn some prejudices about Vikings.

The Exploratorium was emptying out. Galen glanced toward the door marked Danger, No Admittance in the hallway beside the gift shop.

They were here to check that the machine was still secure.

They drifted toward the gift shop, Pony in tow.

A little docent with mousy brown hair and big eyes hurried over. “Closing time, sorry,” she announced.

“Okay,” Galen said. “We’ll just stop at the restrooms before I take my two girls home.”

The docent smiled.

And Lucy shuddered. The echoing Exploratorium around her seemed to pulse in and out. She couldn’t get her breath. She could feel Leonardo’s machine behind that door as though she could see right through the metal. And she could feel his book under her arm, almost . . . quivering. Was that possible?

“Lucy, are you all right?” Galen was at her side, supporting her. She staggered against him. “You need to sit down.” He looked around.

“Over here, ma’am,” the little docent said. “Here’s a bench.”

“Thank you,” Lucy murmured as Galen helped her to sit.

“What’s wrong with Mommy?” Pony asked in a small voice.

“Nothing, honey,” Lucy managed. “Maybe Mommy didn’t eat enough at lunchtime.”

The museum was empty now, all the noise now concentrated out by the doors.

“I’m fine,” Lucy insisted as both Galen and the docent hovered.

“You look . . . uh . . . pretty pale,” the docent said. There was something about her . . . had Lucy seen her before?

Galen looked around. “Can you look after Pony?” he asked the docent. “I’ll buy a coffee mug at the gift shop and get a glass of water.”

The docent grabbed Pony’s hand, and Galen strode away.

The presence of the time machine at Lucy’s back was palpable. Leonardo’s book seemed almost to . . . yearn for something. That sounded crazy. Better take her mind off this.

“Have you been a docent long?” she asked.

The girl turned her attention up to Lucy and . . . and a connection sparked between them. The girl’s eyes were really quite beautiful. Hazel maybe, with long, thick lashes.

“A few years. It pays the bills while I wait for my ship to come in.”

“And what exactly would your ship look like?”

The girl smiled, a self-deprecating, self-aware smile that said she was smart and knew well enough that being so was not always an advantage. “Well . . . I write books. You know how it is.” She looked up to see Lucy’s expression of sympathy. “Oh, I’m published,” she assured Lucy. “But it doesn’t come with health insurance or a four-oh-one(k). Working for the city of San Francisco does that.”

“What do you write?”

“Romances. Well, they aren’t the usual romances,” the girl assured her. “They’re very carefully researched.”

“Historical?”

She nodded. “Premedieval. The origins of the age of courtly love.”

What would this girl do if she knew she had a Dark Ages Viking not twenty feet away collecting water from her water fountain in a cup that said . . . Lucy peered over at him . . . Explore today at the Exploratorium? She’d probably wet her pants.

The girl sighed. “That was a time to live in.” Longing drenched her voice.

And Lucy knew.

Just as Frankie Suchet must have known that day nearly five years ago now, Lucy knew.

Sureness. Rightness. The feelings coursed through her. Galen came up, a worried frown creasing his brow.

She smiled, first at him and then at the girl. “I have a gift for you. You’re just the person to appreciate it.” Lucy hauled Leonardo’s book from her bag and handed it to the girl.

The girl glanced from the book to Lucy and back again. “This is old. . . . I . . . I couldn’t take this.”

“Of course you can. I want to give it to you, just as it was given to me.” She glanced to Galen and stilled his protest with a look.

The girl opened the leather binding gingerly. “It’s . . . it’s written backward.”

“Yes.” Points to her for seeing that. To most people it just looked like gibberish.

“What language is it in?”

“Archaic Italian, some Latin.”

The girl looked dubious.

“Take a class. It will be worth your time. Or have it translated. There’s a guy over at Berkeley, Dr. Dent. He could do the job.”

Galen swept up Pony in one arm. Lucy rose, feeling better than she had all week. She couldn’t keep from smiling. “I’m feeling okay now. We can go.” Galen looked disturbed. He glanced significantly at the Danger door. “I’ve done what I came to do,” she assured him. Turning to the girl, Lucy said, “What’s your name? I’d like to pick up some of your books.”

The little mouse blushed charmingly. “Diana Dearborn.”

“That’s a great name for a romance writer.”

“I didn’t change it. That’s what my mother named me,” she said defensively.

“Lucky you.” Lucy pressed Diana’s hands. “Have a wonderful time. I did. It will change your life. Maybe it will transform you. And when you’re ready . . .” She leaned forward and whispered in her ear, “Look behind the door.”

Diana Dearborn looked shocked, puzzled. Yeah. She would. But not forever. She’d figure it out.

Galen downed the rest of the water and gave the cup to Pony. He took Lucy’s arm and guided her protectively out into the night. “What about the machine?” he whispered into her ear.

“It’s there. I felt it. It’s fine. And we’re done with it. The book needed to go to someone else. I think it needed to go to Diana Dearborn.”

“You look as though a weight has been lifted.”

“An obsession, more likely. One of them. I still have obsessions.” She rubbed his arm, feeling the hard muscle through his sweater.

He looked down at her, a smolder rising in his ice blue eyes. “Pony really likes that nice lady who babysat the other night, don’t you, sweet one?”

“Yesss,” Pony said carefully. She was newly aware that she had a sibilant s. “S-she is very nice. She likes Vandal.”

“Vandal likes her,” Galen said, talking to Pony but still looking at Lucy. “Even though he’s very protective of you.”

“And they’re doing Wagner at the opera . . . ,” Lucy added. Galen was wild for Wagner. All that Germanic Sturm und Drang must be pretty close to his own experience.

He gave her a warning look. “You know that Wagner always puts me in the mood for . . .”

She sighed, trying not to grin. “Something to do with pillaging? I guess I can handle it.”

“Ja,” he said, his accent coming up a little, just as it always seemed to do in the bedroom. “You handle it, Lucy.” He bent to kiss her ear. “And I will handle you. Equal.”

“I warn you, you’re likely to feel equally pillaged.”

“Ahhh, I’ll try to bear up,” he said sadly. “My proud Viking spirit has been broken.”

“Sometimes I wish,” Lucy laughed. But she didn’t. She liked him difficult and protective and even demanding. He was a match for her in so many ways.

Galen opened the door for Lucy and bundled Pony into the car seat of the black Escape Hybrid. Vandal lavished her with kisses. Lucy slid into the passenger seat. The car smelled like new leather and wet dog. It had been raining earlier.

“Vandal,” Pony cried, laughing as the big black dog washed her ear. “What an yful hund.” What would Pony’s kindergarten teacher think of her mixture of Old and modern English?

Galen came around to the driver’s seat. He loved to drive. In fact, he loved to drive fast, but he didn’t with Pony in the car.

“Why do you like opera so much?” Lucy asked when he had settled behind the wheel.

“Because it seems magic, of course. The singing, the music of so many instruments joining together into another thing altogether, the way they make you think the stage is so many different places . . .” He pulled out of the parking lot under the arch of the Golden Gate.

Galen had brought a simple joy and wonder to so many aspects of the world she’d always taken for granted. What had life been like before Galen? Maybe she’d gotten the magic to transform her life in more ways than one. Not easy, any of it. But worth it, every day.

“Then Wagner it is. Let’s go and find a little magic tonight.”