Time Kissed Moments 1 Read online

  Stowe sighed and looked up at the big man. “I don’t think I want to be on the same plane with a boy who is too stupid to know when to let go of his temper and suck it up.”

  The man’s blue eyed gaze was steady. “We could turn him over to the airport security. Him and his friend there. I think his friend was about to announce he had a blade of some sort on him and for that, security will hold them a good long while. They’ll miss the plane.”

  The friend lost almost all the color from his face. He opened his mouth to speak, then remembered the injunction against speaking and licked his lips instead. His gaze moved from the man to Stowe and back, over and over.

  But the kid in the grip of the man started to struggle. He yanked at the man’s wrist, scrunching up the fine suit material and scrabbling at his fingers.

  The man looked at Stowe. “I don’t think they like that idea.”

  Stowe shook his head. “They’re too used to run-ins with authority. Even if they miss their plane, they won’t learn from it. They’ll just cut up the next flight with their rudeness.”

  “Hmm….” The big man turned the kids’ head so he was forced to look at him. “You do need a lesson. Do you have any doubt that I could crush your larynx right now?”

  The kid rolled his eyes, looking at their audience. Most of the departure lounge was utterly silent and everyone was watching openly.

  “Oh, these fine people will swear on a stack of bibles that you tripped over your pants when they fell down your legs and crushed your throat against the front of the desk, there. They’ll be so upset about you having to breathe out of a little hole in your throat for the rest of your life.”

  The kid swallowed, or tried to. Then he tried to speak. Nothing but air escaped.

  “Guess he doesn’t want to apologize,” the man told Stowe. “Okay, then….”

  The kid began to struggle, to try and kick and punch his way out of the man’s grip, making desperate squawking sounds. Then he went limp, like a stringless puppet. The man held his full weight up easily. He dropped the kid into the seat next to his friend. The kid sagged to one side.

  “You killed him!” the friend breathed.

  “There’s nothing wrong with him that a bit of breathing won’t put right. He’ll wake up in a few seconds,” the man told him. He glanced at Stowe.

  “When he does wake up,” Stowe said, “both of you better reconsider how you move through this world from now on. The next time you ignore someone and treat them like a piece of furniture, they might have friends with less control than mine. You have no idea what people can be like. You haven’t been on this earth long enough to figure that out. Take that as Lesson Two. Got it?”

  The kid nodded and shook his friend as he stirred and groaned.

  The man bent and picked up Stowe’s carry-on, righting it. That was when the departure lounge broke out into spontaneous applause and cheering.

  Stowe looked around. Even the departure gate staff were smiling. One of them gave Stowe a big thumbs-up, then spoke into the mic in his hands, announcing the boarding of the flight for business and executive class.

  The man held Stowe’s bag out toward him. “You could go on board first and I don’t think anyone would mind.”

  “Oh, that wouldn’t be right,” Stowe said, taking the bag. “Thanks for your help. I don’t think it would have turned out so well if you hadn’t.”

  The other executive travelers were lining up at the desk, forming a line that curved around behind them.

  “You’d better get going, then,” Stowe said and nodded toward the line.

  “I should.” The man held out his hand. “You should watch that temper of yours, Ratboy.”

  “Excuse me? What did you say?”

  “Rattenbury. That’s your name, right? I saw it on your boarding pass there.” The man pointed to the stub of the pass jutting out of the side pocket of Stowe’s bag.

  “Stowell Rattenbury,” Stowe said slowly, puzzling it through. “You didn’t say “Ratboy”?”

  The man smiled. “It sounds insulting. Does anyone call you that?”

  “Once, a long time ago. Six of the best men I ever knew used to call me that.” He grimaced. “I suppose the old hearing was going to give out sooner or later. I’ve been lucky until now.”

  “Keep hold of that temper of yours and you’ll be lucky a lot longer.” The man went over to where he had left his carry-on and picked it up while Stowe watched him, stunned.

  It couldn’t be…could it?

  No, it was just wishful thinking, he decided. That and help from a big blond man when he least expected it had played tricks with his memory.

  But it was a peaceful, pleasant flight to Los Angeles, all the same. No one joggled his elbow or kicked the back of his chair. Not even once.

  Time Kissed Moments

  Los Angeles, not so many years ago….

  Veris dropped his leather duffel bag at the door and hurried over to where everyone was sitting. “Sorry, the plane was hung up circling LAX.” He leaned over Brody, grabbed his face and kissed him thoroughly.

  “But it was a smooth flight, I see,” Alex said, from the other Craftsman chair. “No spilled drinks on your pants from careless hostesses trying to get your number.”

  Taylor smothered a laugh, for that particular flight stood out as one of Veris’ more colorful travels. He seemed to have a way of drawing adventure to him wherever he went, including the mundane Washington to L.A. flight he did on a monthly basis.

  Veris rested his hand briefly on Alex’s shoulder, a silent greeting, as he passed behind his chair. “It was an interesting flight…well, the start of it was. I ran into an old friend.”

  He bent over Taylor where she sat in the big, comfortable chair and kissed her soundly. Then he patted her enormous belly and settled on the ottoman next to her.

  “Any day now, I hope,” Taylor said and shifted carefully on the cushion, rearranging herself more comfortably. “Alex says I’m overdue.”

  “That’s quite normal for a first gestation,” Alex said complacently.

  Brody raised a brow at Veris. “No second opinion, professor?”

  Veris smiled. “I know my limitations, thank you. I leave the country doctoring to others.”

  “Ouch,” Taylor said.

  “If you’re trying to offend me, you’ve failed,” Alex said. “I get great pleasure from hands-on direct medicine of the country doctor type. I get to see the happy results. Too much of the modern practice involves shuffling patients off to one specialist or another and sometimes that’s the last I see of them. I leave the esoteric theory and research to the academics.”

  Veris grinned. “Guilty as charged.” He brushed at the lapel of the expensive suit he was wearing. Unlike Alex, who had come to the house directly from his rounds at the hospital, Veris had already discarded his tie and unbuttoned the top buttons of the shirt. He would have done that sometime during the flight. He would have waited at least until he was in the taxi heading home before carelessly pushing the sleeves of the jacket up and rolling the shirt sleeves underneath.

  Alex’s suit was still pristine and his tie neatly in place.

  “Guilty, he says,” Brody intoned. “Hell, I didn’t even get to speak as witness.”

  “Witness for whom?” Taylor asked. “The defense or the prosecution?”

  Brody smiled. “Probably just as well I didn’t get called to the stand. Either one would get me shot.”

  Taylor laughed. “That reminds me of your birthday.”

  Brody’s expression darkened. “I still haven’t forgiven you for that,” he growled. “Either of you.”

  Time and a Book

  (a.k.a. “Missing”)

  The fire in the big fireplace flickered and popped comfortingly. The books in the library on the second floor were silent witness as Dr. Alexander Karim nudged the chairs into a more precise line and nodded his satisfaction. “There. Everyone take a seat,” he declared.

  Veris scowled and
crossed his arms, making his big muscles bunch. As usual, he wore the sleeveless cotton shirt and scuffed leather trousers he favored when he wasn’t required to wear a suit. The firelight made his blond hair look mildly red. “This is childish,” he muttered.

  Brody threw himself into the chair at the end of the row. “You could halt it all now. Just confess and it all stops.”

  Taylor stepped over to the middle chair and smooth down her silk skirt over the slight bulge of her belly as she sat down gracefully and crossed her legs. She glanced at Alexander. “Alex, really. This is unnecessary.”

  Alexander sat in the wing chair that faced the three chairs lined before him and leaned forward. “The three of you are making this necessary. So, let us begin. Each of you will speak in turn. No one else will speak while the other does. At the end, I will announce what the crime has been, if any, and what the consequence are to be, if any. Do you all agree to abide by my ruling?”

  “Yes,” Brody said instantly and flatly.

  Taylor glanced at him, then back at Alexander. “I suppose, yes,” she said. Then both of them looked at Veris, who still stood to one side of the remaining chair, his blue eyes dark with anger.

  “Veris, please,” Taylor said softly.

  Veris growled and threw himself into the chair. “This is a waste of time,” he observed.

  “We wouldn’t be wasting time if you’d just own up to destroying my book,” Brody shot back.

  Veris rolled his eyes. “I’ve just got back from a six week medical tour that was so mind-numbingly boring I wanted to go back in time and throttle Hippocrates before he opened his mouth. I could be tasting Taylor’s flesh right now, but because you’ve got this thing about your books, we’re sitting here instead.”

  Brody scowled. “Northman.”

  “Celt,” Veris growled.

  “Shut up both of you,” Alex said sharply, slapping his hand on the flat wooden arm of his chair.

  Brody threw himself against the back of his chair with a hiss.

  Veris grinned.

  “Brody, you can begin,” Alexander said. “Try to keep yourself to observable facts and civilized language, hmm?”

  Taylor smothered a soft laugh with her fingers.

  Brody sat forward again. “Fine. I don’t have a big book collection. Not like these two hogs. But the books I do have are important to me. I’ve collected them over the centuries and they all mean something. Especially the manuscript of Eadweard of Ashwick.”

  “Because you knew him,” Alexander interposed.

  “He met him in an English tavern one evening in the fifth century. He didn’t even share a drink with the man!” Veris protested. “He didn’t know who he was until the manuscript turned up ten years later. It’s not even completed! It’s a fragment!”

  “You are not supposed to speak until it is your turn,” Alexander pointed out. He looked at Brody. “Is he correct?”

  Brody scowled. “Of course I didn’t share a bloody drink with the man. I was a vampire by the time I returned from Constantinople. He didn’t finish the manuscript because the bloody Saxons killed him. They didn’t like what he was writing.”

  “Why?” Alexander asked.

  “Because he was writing about my father,” Brody said. He pulled his hair back and tossed it over his shoulder in a tired, defeated gesture. “The only fucking Saxon in England who could read and write and they killed him because they objected to his subject matter.”

  Taylor reached over and squeezed Brody’s wrist in silent sympathy.

  Brody sat up again. “So I tracked down the only remaining copy of his manuscript and stole it. It took me years.” He turned in his chair to glare at Veris again. “And now it has gone again...and that bloody great lummox did something with it. He was screwing around with my stuff last week. I saw him there and didn’t think anything of it at the time, but now it’s missing.”

  Alexander nodded. “Thank you. Taylor, now it is your turn. What have you to say about this matter?”

  Taylor placed her hands together on her lap. “I refuse to answer on the grounds that any response I make may incriminate me.”

  Brody’s eyes widened. “Taylor!” He sounded wounded.

  She stared steadily ahead.

  Alexander considered her for a long moment. “Very well. Veris?”

  Veris growled deep in the back of his throat.

  “Have you anything to say?” Alexander asked.

  “How much time have we wasted at this?” Veris demanded. “What is the time?”

  “You’re ducking the spotlight,” Brody accused him.

  “It’s three p.m. almost exactly,” Alexander said. “But that’s quite beside the point—”

  The chime for the front door sounded, cutting Alexander off.

  “Finally!” Veris said and got to his feet.

  So did Alexander and Taylor.

  “Wait!” Brody cried. “We’re not done here! You’re not getting out of this just because someone is at the door.”

  Veris ignored him and left the room.

  “The son of bitch,” Brody muttered, watching his lover leave.

  Taylor and Alexander were silently rearranging the chairs. Together, they moved the small side table to sit between all four of the chairs. From the front of the house came the sound of the door closing.

  A moment later Veris appeared, carrying a large crate in both arms. He dropped it on the table and smiled at Brody. “Happy birthday, you cranky old Celt. It’s two days early, but we couldn’t figure out a way to deliver this on the day and not give the game away.”

  Brody touched the crate diffidently. “Is it...?”

  “Eadweard’s manuscript,” Veris confirmed. “Only, it’s the full and complete story of your father’s life. I wasn’t at a medical conference last week.” He smiled. “I was in England when Eadweard was alive, too, Brody. So Taylor and I jumped back to England last week and stole one of the complete manuscripts before they were destroyed.” Veris shrugged. “You had a good idea. We just got there before you did. Time travel is useful, that way.”

  Brody pressed both his hands reverently against the rough wood, staring down at the crate.

  Alexander picked up the poker from beside the fireplace and held it out silently to Brody. “Muslims had better methods of preserving manuscripts back then than any of the western societies, so I gave them a few ideas on what they could do with it once they had it, in order to keep it whole and have it survive until they could give it to you today.”

  Brody took the poker and fitted the tip under one of the cross-braces. “This whole thing about the missing manuscript...it was all a set up.” He ripped the wood away with a single shove of the poker. “I could have cheerfully killed you two.” He glanced at Taylor. “Pleading the Fifth!” It was a curse.

  She moved around behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her face against the back of his shoulder. “Happy birthday.”

  Brody looked down at the ancient handwritten and bound book carefully packed inside the crate, then leaned over and grabbed Veris’ shirt and pulled him close to kiss him soundly. He drew Taylor around his body and into his arms. “It is a happy birthday.”

  _______________

  Los Angeles, a few minutes later…

  The fire burning in the fireplace crackled softly as they all recalled Brody’s birthday, four months ago.

  Brody stirred. “Alex, I should never have brought you into my house and introduced you to them. They’ve tainted your character. You’ve evolved into a fellow conspirator.”

  Alex bowed low. “Thank you,” he said gravely

  Veris chuckled. “You’re just sore because you didn’t think of it first.”

  “Me?” Brody lifted a brow. “I would never have been so cruel, even if I had thought of it first.” He dug into his hip pocket and pulled out his phone and thumbed the screen. “Besides, you two have too many books already.” He bent over the screen, swiping furiously.

 
“What are you doing, anyway?” Veris asked.

  “Texting,” Brody said distantly.

  “I could tell,” Veris said. “Do you know how I could tell?”

  Brody didn’t look up.

  “I could tell because you’re not looking at me when you speak.”

  “Very clever of you,” Brody said absently.

  “I know.” Veris nodded in agreement.

  Brody sat up and put the phone away. He was smiling.

  “What have you done now?” Taylor demanded.

  “Nothing,” he said airily, his smile getting larger.

  Time and Text

  Hey Carly we talked at the bar last night.

  We did? Which one were you?

  Um…K…this is embarrassing. I was wearing the

  green tee shirt….U took a photo of me

  O. Yeah. Slime green, right?

  I guess…U said 2 text you…Im texting.

  It’s six in the morning. You didn’t want to leave it a

  little longer. Maybe not look so desperate?

  WTF??? U R Carly…right?

  Let’s talk when I’m actually awake.

  * * * * *

  Two hours later.

  Hey. Carly. Awake yet?

  Really? You’re back?

  I’m trying to be a nice guy.

  Is that what you call it? Because last night when you

  brought that second round of drinks, you told your friend

  Josh you were absolutely going to nail me before the night ended.

  How the hell…?

  Were you listning?

  You shouldn’t boast on Facebook, Mike.

  And you shouldn’t put your cellphone number there

  because that makes it way too easy to track you down.