“Hey, honey.”

I looked up from the newspaper I had been reading in hopes of finding a job. Of course, I was also trying to catch up on all the current affairs.

And there was a lot going on.

Too bad the internet wasn’t a thing. It would make all this easier…a lot easier.

But I had to find a job. Fortunately, people weren’t as stringent on things like social security cards and driver licenses, although I’d have to get them eventually.

I was more than qualified for most of the jobs available. Sadly, most of what was available right now just didn’t appeal, was too far away, or involved playing some two-bit extra in a movie.

“How are you doing?” Florence put a cup of coffee in front of me.

Sighing, I folded the paper and reached for the drink, already craving a hit of caffeine.

“I’m batting a zero so far when it comes to the job thing. Not a whole lot in the area that I can do, unless I want to try to pick up something as an extra in a movie. There’s a nanny job, but…” I shrugged a shoulder. I wasn’t sure if it was a good idea to apply for a nanny. What if I disappeared again?

“I don’t think I’d want to take care of somebody else’s kids,” Florence said in a musing tone. “I’d rather take care of my own. Are you interested in being an extra? I can put a good word in for you. It's not bad money.”

“No!” That wasn't even an option. I couldn’t exactly explain my fears to her, but what would happen if my face got caught on camera, and somebody like my Uncle Daniel saw it decades from now? Sure, it would likely be written off as a coincidence, but why take that chance?

Florence laughed. “I don’t think you could have been more emphatic about that if you had tried.” She sipped her coffee and watched me pensively. “But you know, that wasn't really what I meant. I was wondering if you were ready to go see him. If you had…centered yourself.”

“I don’t know.” I swallowed and looked away. “He seems to be doing just fine on his own, Florence. He’s got a girlfriend. He’s working. He’s gotten his life on track. I mean, good for him, right?”

“Is that what you think?” She cocked a brow. “Here I was thinking you’ve been girding your loins and getting ready to face him. But maybe you’ve just been in denial.”

Amused despite myself, I said, “Girded my loins? I don't quite think that phrase would apply to us, you know. Men were the ones who girded up. Women were expected to stay home and keep the fire burning.”

“And the bed warm.” Florence laughed. She shrugged. “Hey, it could be worse. At least we can work and vote, right?”

I thought about how different things were in my time. Then I thought about how some things were almost turning backward in some ways, and there was a part of me that wanted to weep.

But even as twisted as some things were in my time, they weren’t anything like what some people had to face now. I had spent the past few days reading the paper, reading magazines, watching the news. Everything was portrayed from a certain lens, and it wasn't one that I particularly liked.

The Civil Rights Movement was in full swing. As surreal as it felt, I was reading about sit-ins and marches and Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr as things were happening—not from a historical perspective.

The sad part was that the African Americans fighting to achieve equality were being painted as the bad guys. In a few decades, they’d be hailed as heroes, but for now, some of them were being beaten, jailed…killed.

“You can’t hide forever. You aren't going to feel better until you talk to him,” Florence said softly.

How could I explain that I wasn’t exactly hiding? I just…I’d hurt him. What right did I have to remind him of what I’d done?

He haunted my thoughts. Every moment of every day. It didn't help that every time I turned on the TV, I had to brace myself in case I saw a flash of him with his new girlfriend. He wasn't as popular a news bit as he used to be, but he was still there.

And too often, when he was there, so was she.

They looked happy together.

They looked perfect together.

After how badly I had messed up his life, did I really have any right to go interfering with what he’d rebuilt?

Florence had gone and turned out to be surprisingly insightful. She leaned forward and took my free hand with hers. “Maya. Can you look me in the eye and tell me that if he had abruptly disappeared and then turned back up, you wouldn't want to know?”

I clutched at her hand, tears burning my eyes. “Of course I’d want to know. But...”

“But what?” she pressed. “Just tell him the truth. I know you don't want to talk to me, and that's okay. But I can tell whatever it is, it's not like you wanted to leave. I know what love looks like. I know what it feels like. And I can tell you love him. Are you going to sit there and tell me that you haven't been trying to get back to him?”

“No,” I whispered.

“Then you need to talk to him. You love him. And he's never going to love anybody the way he loved you.”

The key word there was ‘loved’. She squeezed my hand, then got up and walked away.

I sat there, feeling broken inside.

* * *

“I know you want to do something, baby. But it’s just so dangerous.” Florence’s low, urgent voice caught my attention and I paused. I’d been on my way back up to my room when I told myself I needed to quit hiding.

I’d ask her how to get a hold of Glenn.

I’d figure this out.

Before I could change my mind, I’d come back downstairs, but now, as I caught the low murmur of voices, I hesitated just outside the parlor where Astor and Florence were talking.

“Are you ashamed of me?” Astor's voice was thick and rough. “Do you regret marrying me?”

What in the hell?

“No!” Florence’s urgent and immediate answer was so fervent, there was so no way she could mean anything other than what she said. “Never. It's just... You know what happened to that couple in Virginia. I know people in California are better than that. It’s just that there are still an awful lot of people who wouldn't agree with you and me.”

The couple in Virginia. People who wouldn’t agree.

As their voices trailed off, I withdrew down the hall. Mind racing, I thought about Astor’s careful demeanor around me. He was…polite, but reserved. I couldn’t say he avoided me, per se, but unless Florence was around, he took care not to be.

That deeply tanned skin of his…

Shit. Astor was biracial, at the very least.

Considering the climate going on now, this was…hell…dangerous.

The case in Virginia had to be the Loving case. I’d studied it in school when we were learning about the Civil Rights movement. Although I couldn’t recall specifics, I knew the marriage between black people and white people had been outlawed in many states up until that case went before the supreme court.

Was interracial marriage legal in California? I remembered a fair amount about that case because I’d written a paper about it my senior year in high school—it wouldn’t be settled as a national issue for two more years, but even if interracial marriage was legal, that didn’t mean there weren’t other issues.

I could imagine Astor having trouble with his job.

Florence might become a pariah.

Rubbing at the base of my neck, I stood at the bottom of the stairs and tried to calm my thoughts.

Astor’s reserve made more sense now. He probably wasn’t certain he could trust me. He had probably worried about exactly this—me finding out their secret.

Laughing to myself, I thought about how I could go to his mind at ease.

Hey, it's okay. I'm from the future, and most people are perfectly fine with interracial marriage, including me. It’s all cool. Of course, gay marriage is still an issue...

Yeah, that would really set his mind at ease. He’d think I was crazy.

He was a psychiatrist. He might try to have me committed.

“What a mess,” I muttered.

“Maya.”

I fought not to flinch at the sound of her voice. Pasting a smile on my face, I looked back at her. “Hey.”

She gave me an uneasy smile as Astor moved out to stand behind her, one hand on her shoulder.

I gripped the banister with one hand, eying them both. Astor hid it better, but the nerves were practically pouring off both of them. This was all such bullshit.

Florence came a little closer, her eyes darting toward the stairs. “I thought you were up in your room,” she said softly. She reached up to worry the strand of pearls at her neck. Her other hand was in a fist so tight, her knuckles pressed sharp and white against her skin.

“No.” Looking from her to Astor, I thought about lying. It would make them both feel better.

Yeah. They’d feel better for now. And then we all dance around each other on eggshells.

I had enough to be uneasy about, and so did they.

Moving away from the steps, I reached out her hand. “I heard you two talking.”

The blood drained out of Florence’s face.

“It’s okay.” The smile I gave her wasn’t as reassuring as I’d hoped it could be. I didn’t care, but she wasn’t the only one feeling the strain of nerves. “It’s okay, Florence. You don't have to worry. I'm not going to tell anybody.”

“I’m not sure what you’re talking about,” Astor said, remarkably calm.

Sighing, I brushed my fingers through my hair and moved over to the window. The expansive green lawn spread out like a lush green carpet, and I wished I’d just stayed outside. They didn’t want me knowing this. It didn’t make anything easier on them, and Florence had been so kind. Now she looked like she wanted to cry.

“Astor, you’re not entirely white,” I said, deciding to just to be blunt and get it over with. “FYI, I don’t care.”

“FYI?” Florence looked confused.

Idiot, I told myself. “For your information. We…um…we said it back home a lot. In school. The point is, you don’t need to worry. People should be able to marry who they want. If you love each other, that’s what matters. Not skin color.”

“You…” Florence pressed her fingers to her lips and looked away for a moment. “You really meant that. This doesn’t bother you?”

“No! Of course not.” I hugged her impulsively and she squeezed me back in return.

Once she drew away, I met Astor’s gaze. Some of the tension in his eyes had faded, I thought. “I am sorry. I had just come down to ask Florence something. I wasn’t trying to invade your privacy.”

He gave a short, single nod.

“If you want me to find someplace else to stay…” I had no idea where it would be, but I couldn’t force myself on them either.

“Don’t even think about it!” Florence hooked her arm through mine. “We’re friends, Maya. I don’t want you to think about that ever again. I was just worried that you would think badly of me.”

I hugged her. “Not a chance.”

After we broke apart, Astor lightly brushed his fingers down my shoulder. “Thank you.”

I shook my head. “There's nothing to thank me for.” Florence moved back to his side and they both watched me with expressions of such happiness, it hurt. They shouldn’t have to be happy about this. Me accepting their marriage should be a given.

“Things will get better. In a way, they already are.” I had to be careful what I said here, but I wanted, no, I needed to give them something. “The march in Selma, all the other violence that’s happened…people are waking up. The Loving’s are fighting for their right to be together and it’s going to take time, but they will win. Things are getting better.”

Florence smiled at me and the hesitant hope on her face almost gutted me. “You don't know that.”

“Yes, I do. Just wait.”

Before she could respond, there was a knock at the door. Harrison appeared from the depths of the house to answer it as Florence moved over to a nearby mirror to check her hair and face.

“I’m a fright,” she said, sighing.

“You’re beautiful.” Astor came to stand behind her and I looked away, giving them the illusion of privacy.

“You have a guest.” Harrison’s voice sounded from the door and Florence turned.

Her face brightened and I looked to see who it was.

“Cane!”

Dread grabbed me by the throat. Glenn’s best friend.

No…

The man striding toward Florence didn’t even spare me a glance.

That was fine.

It gave me a minute to brace myself. I needed it. I also needed a few seconds to take in the differences.

The Cane who’d just swept Florence up in a hug looked nothing like the Cane I’d known before.

That Cane had been too skinny, and I’d only seen him sober twice. He was usually in need of a shave and a fresh change of clothes.

Now?

He hugged Florence and greeted Astor. Then, a moment later, he turned his head and looked at me. Brilliant, penetrating eyes practically cut into me.

Cane inclined his head. “Maya.”