It had been almost a week since Glenn had shown up and torn into me.

Florence had hovered around for the first few days, acting as though she thought I’d break.

It probably didn’t help that I kept bursting into tears for no reason. Okay, maybe I had a reason. Glenn hated me. I was decades away from the family who loved me, and save for Florence—okay, and Harrison—I had no friends here. Astor was sweet and kind, but he wasn’t what I’d call a friend, and I’d taken to avoiding him because he’d decided he should counsel me, help me deal with the trauma from the “kidnapping”.

I hadn’t thought about that possibility when I blurted out my cover story.

Granted, I hadn’t been thinking at all.

Fortunately, he seemed to understand my reluctance to talk, and just patted me on the shoulder, letting me know he was there for me if I was ever in need to reach out.

Other than that—and a guard who was now stationed at the front of Florence’s property—things continued on as they always had. I assumed the guard was just in case I had another relapse.

I felt bad about the expense and told Florence it wasn’t necessary, but she feigned ignorance and said the guard was there for her.

Funny. She hadn’t ever needed security before. But if that was what she needed to feel better, who was I to argue with her?

“You’re very quiet.”

Looking up from the coffee I hadn’t touched, I smiled as Harrison placed my breakfast before me. “Just thinking.”

“Thinking very hard,” he said. He touched his fingers to my shoulder. “Mr. Jackson was very angry. But he was also very upset when you disappeared. He’ll come around…”

“No.” Shaking my head, I picked up my fork and turned my attention to the breakfast he’d prepared. “I think he said what he meant, what he needed to say. And who can blame him for being angry? I put him through a lot.”

“I think you’ve been through quite a bit yourself.” Harrison let it go at that and turned away.

His support—quiet and unwavering—meant a lot.

Eventually, I told myself that I’d be okay. I’d find a way to make things work out. Although, I still had no idea whether I was meant to be here—or back in my own time.

Taking my fork, I cut into the eggs over easy, cooked just the way I liked them.

The sight of the yolk spilling out onto the plate had my stomach churning.

Bolting up out of the chair, I took off running down the hall.

I hit my knees in front of the toilet just in time.

A startled voice rang out behind me, but I couldn’t make out the words, or even recognize the speaker as I emptied my stomach. Nothing came up but the water I’d drunk earlier, but still, the heaving continued, and I wretched until my head roared and blood thundered in my ears.

It seemed like forever that I spent on my knees there, violent spasms racking my body, even though my belly had long since emptied.

“Better now?”

Florence’s voice, soft and gentle, came from just behind me. Her soft hand was rubbing my back gently, but I hadn’t noticed it before.

My only answer was a weak, pitiful groan. She laughed, but there nothing cruel in it—only sympathy.

“Come on,” she said, urging me to my feet. “Let’s get you off the floor. I’ve spent more than my share of mornings bent over the toilet, and I know the first thing to do if you want to feel better is get that taste out of your mouth.”

She was right.

In fact, just the thought of this taste in my mouth was enough for the nausea to take hold all over again.

I fought it back, but only barely.

I let her guide me to the sink and I braced my hands on the cool surface as she ran some water into a glass kept nearby. After I rinsed out my mouth, she asked, “Better?”

“Some.” Not a lot, but some. I kept the rest of it behind my teeth and managed a weak smile. She beamed at me and took my arm, guiding me out of the bathroom and toward the sitting room.

“Let’s get you off your feet. I’ve got Harrison brewing up some ginger tea. It’s just the thing, I promise.”

I didn’t feel like arguing with her as I sat on the comfy lounge. I didn’t feel like doing anything but curling up at going back to sleep.

I managed to doze off a bit when I heard her soft voice thanking Harrison, and that startled me awake.

“Here you go,” she said, bringing me a cup of something pale gold, with steam billowing up. “Go slow, it’s very hot.” The smell was slightly spicy, and I gave her a hesitant look over the edge of the cup.

“Trust me,” she said simply, her face warming with her smile.

If it would get her to give me some peace, I would.

The first sip, though, proved to settle my belly quite a bit. The second, even more so. I managed to get half the cup down before I decided I’d done enough. “I’ll drink more later,” I promised when she gave me a firm look.

“Okay.” She sat down next to me, touching the back of her hand to my cheek. “You don’t feel feverish. Have you been feeling ill or anything?”

“No. Just tired.” I lifted a shoulder in a shrug. “I figure it’s the stress of everything going on.”

Worry glinted in her eyes and I caught her hand, squeezing it. “Don’t worry. I’m okay. Talking about it helped a lot. I’m just really tired.”

“You don’t look like you’ve been sleeping.”

“I haven’t.” That lie came easier than I liked. I had been sleeping. The problem was, I couldn’t seem to sleep enough.

“I thought as much. You spend a great deal of your time trying to get in naps, but I guess they aren’t helping, are they?”

With a weak shrug, I looked away, tugging nervously at the sleeves of my blouse.

“Why don’t you go on back up and lie down? You were almost asleep just now. Might as well get in the rest while your body is trying to make it happen.”

* * *

I barely remembered my head hitting the pillow.

I woke to the sound of a phone ringing somewhere off in the depths of the house.

There wasn’t a phone in my room, but there were more than a couple in the house, and halfway through the third ring, it was cut off.

Lying there, staring at the ceiling, I tried to get my disjointed thoughts to settle.

My belly was rumbling.

I was starving.

It took a few more minutes before I realized I hadn’t eaten breakfast.

The eggs—

Shuddering at the thought of them even now, I sat up and stared at the clock. Almost noon. I’d slept away almost four more hours, and that was after sleeping nearly nine hours last night. No wonder I was hungry. No wonder my brain felt like it was wrapped up in cotton batting.

After a quick stop by the bathroom to brush my teeth, I headed downstairs and went straight into the kitchen.

Harrison wasn’t anywhere to be found, but I knew his routine by now. He did the shopping and marketing twice a week, on Tuesdays and Saturdays.

I didn’t need help to make a sandwich, or even a basic meal, and after poking around a bit, I set about making what sounded best.

“Is that…” Florence came to a stop next to me, her voice full of apprehension. “Maya, are you eating a peanut butter and tomato sandwich?”

“Yes.” I slapped the top piece of bread down on my masterpiece and looked at her. “Want one?”

“No.” She looked mildly repulsed.

“Okay.” Shrugging, I turned around and leaned back against the counter, sandwich in hand. The first bite was amazing, and the rumbling in my belly stopped.

“You look like you feel better.”

“I do.”

“The miracles of some rest and a strange sandwich,” she said, laughing a little. She continued to eye my meal, and after another shake of her head, she added, “I think I’ll have some peanut butter myself.”

After she made her sandwich, the two of us moved to the table and sat down, munching in companionable silence.

“I was wondering,” Florence said when we’d finished. “I have a party to go to tonight. Astor hates parties.”

She rolled her eyes, but the smile didn’t fade. “I don’t like them as much as I used to, but it’s part of the job. I don’t suppose you’d go with me, would you? Going alone is such a chore.”

“A party?” I didn’t know if that was a good idea.

“It wouldn’t be a bad idea,” she said softly. “Maybe we can find you a job. You’ve been mentioning wanting one. You were a wonderful assistant. I have a new assistant of course, but there are people I could introduce you to.”

I did need a job. Frankly, nothing I saw in the paper seemed to fit, and if I didn’t find one soon, I have to apply wherever I saw a help-wanted sign. Not exactly what I had in mind.

“Besides, you need to lighten up and have a little bit of fun.”

“Fun.” I scoffed—because that idea was ridiculous.

“You can’t let him color the rest of your life, honey. You know that.”

Slowly, I looked up at Florence. The remains of our casual meal lay between us and my belly, sated now, decided it was a good time to pitch and spin. I didn’t feel nauseated, though. Just…uneasy. I had no idea what to expect from the rest of my life. I didn’t even know what to expect from tomorrow.

“Maya?”

“I know,” I said finally, giving her a determined smile. She was, after all, right. Glenn had moved on and he’d made it more than clear that he not only wanted me out of his life—he outright hated me.

And damn if it didn’t hurt.

* * *

I tried to come up with excuses not to go.

I didn’t know the people throwing the party.

Florence flippantly replied, “Neither do I!”

I didn’t have anything to wear.

“I have scads of clothing, darling.”

I hadn’t had time to get a decent haircut in ages.

“Your hair is lovely, Maya. I only wish I could make my hair look like that with hardly any effort.”

Each excuse was rebuffed with barely any effort.

Finally, I submitted to her relentless pestering and ended up on her bed as she went through her closet. More than four or five pretty pieces joined me on the bed and after a few minutes, I got up to wander the girly bedroom she now shared with Astor. On her vanity, I found a picture of the two of them—their wedding—and I smiled at the happiness I saw on their faces.

It made my heart ache—and not just because I envied what they had. But because I was glad she’d found it.

As I went to put the picture down, Florence tapped me on the shoulder. Caught off-guard, I spun around, and my elbow hit her purse where it sat just on the edge of the dress.

“Oh!”

As everything came spilling out, I put the picture down. “Sorry,” I said, sighing. “I’m not very graceful, even on my good days. Today isn’t one of them.”

“It’s no big deal.”

As I passed over lipsticks, a comb, a mirror, Florence tucked the odds and ends back inside. I went to pick up what looked like a small leather binder—a planner, maybe—Florence gasped. I had it in hand before she could reach it, and she snatched it away. “I…um, that’s…well, you see, it’s personal,” she said, babbling.

“Okay,” I said mildly. “After all, this stuff goes in your purse. It’s all personal.”

“Of course. Well…” She laughed, patting her hair as she did when she was nervous. Her eyes slid around the room before coming back to meet mine. “Can you keep a secret?”

She didn’t even wait for a response. “I’m…keeping track, you see. Of my monthlies.”

Her cheeks went bright red.

I blinked. Then, as I caught on to what she was saying, I found myself blushing a bit as well. I don’t know why. It’s not like having a period wasn’t a normal thing. Women had been having them since the dawn of time. “Um…okay. Is there a reason?”

“Astor and I…well, I want a baby.”

“Oh!” I threw my arms around her neck.

She hugged me back. “He’s nervous about it. But…I want a baby, Maya. I want one so bad.”

“You’ll make a great mother. I know it.”

She laughed as we broke away. “You always sound so sure of things, sweetheart.”

I winced, ducking my head to cover it up as I finished scooping up everything that had spilled out of her purse. “Well, here’s the rest of it…unless you want all those gum wrappers and pieces of lint.”

“Heavens, yes. I collect everything.”

We laughed and went back to searching for the dress I’d wear that night.

* * *

An hour later, I wasn’t laughing.

I had multiple pieces of paper in front of me and my head was spinning.

I couldn’t possibly track down a calendar from my time, so I’d had to make do with scribbling out dates as best as I could. I’d done a pretty decent job, and there was no denying it—

I was almost two months late.

“How could I have missed this?” Wiping a shaking hand over the back of my mouth, I stared at the irrefutable proof in front of me until the words and numbers started to blur. Pushing myself away from the desk, I got up to pace.

Of course, it made sense.

How tired I was.

The incredible nausea that had hit me that morning, out of the blue.

And man…a peanut butter and tomato sandwich?

If I wasn’t already craving another one, I’d be repulsed.

I was pregnant. I had to be.

How could I possibly explain this to anybody? How could I explain it to Glenn?

“You can’t,” I said, and the hysteria in my voice almost brought on tears. But I knew, without a doubt, if I went to Glenn and told him I was pregnant with his child, he’d never believe me. I’d been gone three years in his time.

He’d never believe it.

I barely believed it, and I was living this madness! How was I supposed to expect anybody else to buy into this bullshit?

Sweat broke out on my brow at the very thought of explaining it to anybody, and it took no time to come to one conclusion. I couldn’t tell anybody. I just couldn’t.

I was going to have to find a way to explain the baby, once I began to show. Assuming I stayed.

Assuming…

“Shit, that makes it sound like I have any control.” My thoughts flicked back to how I’d ended up here again and I thought of the locket, the diary. I had the locket, although I’d kept it carefully tucked away in the jewelry box that sat on the dresser of my borrowed room. Every day, I checked to make sure it was still there and it glowed, beckoning to me to put it back on.

I didn’t dare.

Now, though…I was tempted.

Could I risk raising a baby on my own in this time?

Even in my own time, a single mother came with its own stigmas, but now, it would be…awful. It might not be as bad in California, but I didn’t have any of the advantages that might have protected me. I didn’t have my family name, I didn’t have my family’s money.

I was just…me.

And I was carrying the baby of a man who didn’t even want to look at me.

I grabbed the pages and crumpled them up, letting the short, sharp scream building inside me break free. Throwing the hand-drawn calendars toward the enameled waste can, I spun away and wrapped my arms around my middle. Anxiousness raged and burned inside me and I started to pace.

“What am I going to do?”

I came to a stop in front of the mirror and that was when I realized I’d been rubbing my belly.

Abruptly, I smiled. Glenn’s baby was growing there.

Whether he loved me or not, whether he believed me or not, I was carrying his baby. I knew it, deep inside.

And I’d figure all this out, somehow.

* * *

“You’re more quiet than normal.”

Sipping from the glass of water I’d asked a server to bring me, I smiled at Florence. “Sorry.” I gestured to the crowd with my free hand. “I don’t really know anybody here. Hard to make small talk with total strangers.”

“Honey, the only kind of talk you make with total strangers is small talk.” She looped her arm through mine. “You comment on a woman’s dress, tell a man he is looking fine tonight—just not if the man is with a woman. Ask what he thought of the latest movie, or if she loves the Beatles as much as you do. Or you can talk about fashion…I hear this new mini-skirt craze is going to be big.”

“Mini-skirt craze?” I eyed her narrowly.

“Some people are calling it scandalous.” She laughed. “But I love it.”

She sipped her champagne while I thought about the skirts I’d seen when I’d been doing my research, or when I’d just watched movies set in the sixties and seventies. Mini-skirt craze, indeed. I wonder what she’d think of the cheek-baring shorts that would be a big hit later on?

“You haven’t had any champagne.” Florence sipped hers. “Are you still feeling a little under the weather?”

“No.” Just like that, my pseudo-happy mood evaporated, and I tugged my arm free of hers. I’d been pretending to have a good time, pretending because I needed to not think about everything I had to deal with for a little while. And I really could have used a drink. But with the baby…

“Excuse me.” I managed a weak smile. “I need to get some air.”

* * *

Air wasn’t going to do it.

I could be breathing the freshest, purest mountain air, untouched by mankind’s pollution—and it wouldn’t help.

As futile as it was, I’d stayed outside, avoiding Florence when I heard her come looking for me almost twenty minutes after I’d bolted. Feeling guilty, and realizing that my efforts to calm myself were useless, I went back inside to find her pacing the hallway where she’d last seen me.

Now, taking my hands, she said, “You—I have to tell you something you won’t want to hear.”

“What?” Wary, I studied the grim look in her eyes.

“Glenn is here.”

“He’s…what?” I felt lightheaded. I couldn’t handle the thought of seeing him. I was only just adjusting to the thought that I was probably pregnant—trying to figure out if I should try and get back to my time. I couldn’t see—

“He’s with the woman he’s been seeing. Her name is Kimberly.” Florence squeezed my hands. “Maya…are you okay? Did you hear me?”

A semi-hysterical laugh was the only answer I could come up with.

“Oh. I’m fine.” Flinging my hands up, I said, “I’m just fine.”

“You want to get out of here?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.”