Paradigm (Travelers Series Book 3) Read online

  I turn to face Alex. “Cooking lessons? This is my surprise?”

  He offers me a sheepish grin and shrugs. If he caught my somewhat disappointed expression, he doesn’t show it. “You always said you wanted to learn how to cook.”

  Okay, I hate to admit it, but I’m a horrible cook. But I don’t know if I should feel flattered that Alex remembered my constant expletives over dozens of burnt dinners, or horrified that he wishes I were better suited in the kitchen.

  “Now, don’t be nervous, dear. We’re all here to learn,” the lady’s chipper voice boomed as she walks back towards the front of the studio.

  An overwhelming sense of déjà vu suddenly takes hold as I watch the woman demonstrate how to properly whisk eggs. It’s as if I’ve watched her cook for me on previous occasions—which is impossible because if a woman as nice as this lady had ever cooked for me before, I’d certainly remember it.

  “Hey, Etta, your butter is burning.” Alex nudges me out of my trance and I immediately turn the knob on the stove. We’d quickly moved on to the next step in the recipe and I’m already lost. It would be like me to mess up something as simple as melting butter. Perhaps signing us up for this class was all in vain, and Alex will never get a home-cooked meal out of me.

  “Oops. I guess baking really isn’t my thing after all.” I apologize for screwing up the recipe. Not only that, but I just feel bad in general about him shelling out the extra dough (no pun intended) for my birthday.

  Maggie comes over to our stove and places a small bowl in front of me. “Oh, don’t worry about that. Here, I always prepare a little extra.” She laughed, replacing her bowl of butter with mine. “I’ll be honest, though, I don’t think I’ve ever had a student having problems with the basics.”

  I can feel my face flush with embarrassment. “Sorry. I guess that’s why my boyfriend signed us up for this lesson.” It’s one thing to do something stupid in front of your boyfriend, but to have the instructor notice? Talk about totally mortifying. “For my birthday,” I add.

  “Well, happy birthday!” Maggie’s smile spreads across her face, making me feel better already. She walks back up to the front of the studio and stops right before she reaches her cooking station. “Class, we have ourselves a birthday girl in our midst! Why don’t we all save a few of those cookies for Etta to take home?”

  Okay, so her announcement is possibly more embarrassing than me screwing up melted butter, but there’s something about the way she makes a big fuss over my birthday that gives me a case of the warm fuzzies. Almost as if she cares about me, and she’s only just met me.

  Perhaps I should let Alex take care of all the cooking in the future. His chocolate chip cookies come out deliciously gooey, while mine are better suited for shot put. I look around the kitchen and am happy to see everyone is so preoccupied with their own culinary magic that they’ve ignored my gastronomical horrors.

  As the end of class nears and the students prepare to leave, the nagging feeling that I know this woman makes it hard for me to leave. I find it hard not to stare at her as she compliments each student’s baked goods as she thanked them for taking the class.

  I continue to watch Maggie go around the kitchen thanking everyone for their participation. Her last stop is our cooking station. To her credit, she says nothing of my disastrous batch of cookies, but does take notice of my blatant curiosity towards her. “Are you all right, dear?”

  “Um, yeah. I just can’t shake the notion that I know you from somewhere. You didn’t by any chance foster kids way back when, did you?” I seriously doubt this is where I know her from, but it’s worth a shot. Besides, I really think I’d remember if she ever fostered me.

  “No, I’m sorry. Why? Were you a foster child?” She seems genuinely concerned. I don’t know if it’s because I just told her I’m an orphan, or because she’s a nice lady overall.

  “Yeah, but it’s no biggie. I guess I was just trying to place you.”

  “We all have those moments,” she laughs. “Especially at my age.” She stops speaking long enough to give me another once over. “You know, you look a little familiar, too.”

  She’s probably trying to make me feel better, but it’s nice to hear just the same. Maybe I’m not crazy. “That’s a relief. Glad to hear it’s not just me. I’ve probably just seen you around town.”

  Maggie gives my shoulder a gentle squeeze. Normally, this would offend me, as I’m not much for having people I just met touching me, but coming from her, it’s not so bad. It was motherly, caring.

  “I teach every Monday and Wednesday. Why don’t you stop by? I’m sure your young beau would appreciate it,” she says with a wink, nodding towards Alex.

  He laughs. “Trust me, it’s more for her own benefit than my own.”

  I groan at their jokes. “I’d love to take more lessons, but I don’t think I can afford it.” As much as I’d like to spend time here, learning how to burn more pastries isn’t very cost-effective. I don’t know how much Alex paid for this class, but I’m sure it doesn’t fit into my meager budget.

  “Oh, nonsense. Keep your hard-earned money,” she says. “To be perfectly honest, I run these classes simply to stroke my ego. I just love cooking, and I’d be honored if you could join my on-going classes. Think of it as my birthday treat to you,” she says, chuckling over her play on words.

  Chapter Four

  Take Me Back in Time

  Thornberry Reality 2017

  “I’m sorry you have to go through all this again,” Etta said, the side of her face pressing up against Cooper’s back as she hugged his waist from behind. She’d just finished giving him a much-deserved back rub when the subject of going back to her old reality came up. She knew the stress he must be going through and she hoped he realized just how much she loved him for what he was about to do. For a second time.

  “So we’re off by a couple of years. You’re still here, so I know we’re successful at some point.” Cooper remembered traveling to find Etta back in 2011. One of the pitfalls of being able to travel is remembrance. He recalled two distinct timelines; one, where Etta agreed to be taken to her rightful reality and the second, where she refused to join him. The only thing he didn’t know was what had caused a change in the timeline. This is why when he left Etta the first time, back in her true reality, he wouldn’t allow her to join him. He remembered telling her on her front doorstep; it just wasn’t her time. Somewhere along the way, the timeline got skewed, and now he was tasked with the mission to set it right for this world. Whatever plan they ultimately came up with worked, as she was sitting there on their bed, but would it be that way tomorrow?

  “And we’re still married. What do they say, a third time’s a charm?”

  Cooper turns around to face his wife. “That it is. Now, why don’t you close your eyes for a second so I can present my beautiful wife with her birthday surprise?”

  Etta could hardly contain her giggles as she closed her eyes. She knew how hard gifts were hard to come by in their reality—it’s not like they had flower shops or retail outlets here due to the collapsed world created by Thornberry—but whatever Cooper presented her with, she knew she’d cherish it. Every day they spent together was a gift. It was almost as if, at any point in time, the timeline would rip again, only she’d wake up without him by her side. And wouldn’t remember him.

  “Okay,” he called out. She wiped the tears that were beginning to form as she thought about not having him in her life. It wasn’t the time to focus on what could happen, but to concentrate on his footsteps coming down the hall, letting her know he was here, with her now. “Now, don’t peek until I say so.”

  Etta didn’t have to sneak a peek. She could smell the tantalizing aroma that immediately made her taste buds water with anticipation. How in the world, she thought.

  He interrupts her thoughts. “You can open them now! Happy twenty-fourth birthday, Etta darlin’.”

  He’d taken the time to gift-wrap her present in old newspa
per. She didn’t have to open it to know what it was, but yet, she tore the wrapping like an eager child at Christmastime. Leave it to her husband to know exactly what she most desired.

  “A pound of coffee!” Etta squealed. “How in the world did you get your hands on this?”

  Cooper’s eyes glinted with pleasure at seeing his wife’s reaction. “Darlin’, you know I always make it a point to surprise you with my little secrets.”

  She wrapped herself around him, where he’d rejoined her on the bed. “Thank you so much! Now I won’t be such a grouch in the mornings. Well, at least until the beans run out.”

  He laughed at her, knowing all too well her infamous morning ritual of quiet time until the pangs of the early morning finally left her system. “Yeah, I know. This is as much a gift for me as it is for you,” he joked.

  She lightly punched his arm. “I don’t care. This is the best present ever”

  “Oh, that’s not all. I have another surprise for you.”

  “What could possibly top this?”

  He reached into his back of his pants and pulled something shiny out of the pocket. “Here. I thought you might like to have this.”

  Etta gently took the necklace he was holding up for her to see. She didn’t know it, but Cooper held his breath in for her reaction.

  “It’s my locket! You found it!”

  He only nodded. “Never lost, only waiting to be reclaimed.”

  Inside, the locket held a picture of a baby and on the other side, Etta’s mother. “I don’t understand –”

  “I thought I’d lost it for good,” she breathed. “Where on Earth did you find it?” She looked up at Cooper with tears in her eyes. She hardly remembered the mother she had lost in a plane crash when she was just a small child. This was the only thing she had of the mother she never really knew.

  “I told you, I have my little secrets.”

  “Oh, Cooper.” The rest of the words got caught in her throat. She didn’t know what else to say. What could she? She was touched beyond words. “Thank you,” she said, finally able to muster up the words.

  Chapter Five

  It’s a Wonderful Lie

  Present Reality

  Even though it’s almost the weekend, Thursday already feels like I’m doomed for a long two days. One of the perks about working at Audrey’s law office is that it’s only a block away from freshly brewed coffee.

  “Nothing a quick stop at Battle Grounds wouldn’t cure,” I grumble to no one other than myself as I drop in the shop before going into work.

  My mood begins to perk up at the smell of all the heavenly ground-up beans, until I see a familiar figure sitting patiently near the cashier. He looks like he’s been waiting for someone, and I have a pretty good idea of who that person is.

  He’s invaded my thoughts and dreams for years, and I want to know why he’s here. As much as I need to know what it is he wants, I proceed with caution. Back when I was a teen, I wanted nothing more than to be taken away from the life I knew. I always thought that my life had a different purpose, like I was at the wrong place at the wrong time. Now, things are great in my life and I certainly don’t need someone to rescue me. So, after much hesitation, I purposely ignore him and decide the sane thing to do is to just walk out of here—I can always settle for a crappy cup of Joe over at the office—but curiosity gets the better of me (again) and I pivot around in the direction of his table and glare down at him. I have to try to settle this once and for all. I’ll never have closure otherwise.

  “I should run in the opposite direction, but my curiosity is preventing me from doing just that,” I say. If he’s truly a threat, he would’ve done something years ago. Right? Then again, stalkers can generally hold out for years before doing any physical harm, but I have a feeling he really isn’t a threat. I don’t really know how I know this, but I definitely get a good vibe when I’m around him—much to my annoyance.

  Cooper raises his hands up in mock surrender. “I promise, I just want to talk. Will you join me for a cup of coffee?”

  Well, I can’t very well pass up an invitation like that. What could possibly happen in a public place like this? And the silent plea behind his eyes is enough to make me agree to anything. I always scoff at romance novels and chick flicks where the heroine suffers from “weak at the knees” syndrome. Only now, I know the condition is real and I’ve just succumbed to it. There’s something about him that makes my insides turn to mush.

  “Sure, why not?” I ultimately take a seat at one of the tables by the cash register. This way, if he says or tries anything funny, I can get the attention of the barista. But who am I kidding? I know he has a reason to keep seeking me out, and I don’t think it’s one with ill intent. “I take mine black,” I say, settling into my chair, signaling to Cooper that I’m leaving it up to him to order the drinks.

  He gives me another one of his winning smiles—the kind that makes me thankful I’m already sitting—obviously pleased I agreed to sit with him.

  “Yeah, I remember,” he says as he heads over to the counter to place our order.

  I fiddle with the sugar packages on the table as I wait for Cooper to return. We didn’t exactly part on good terms the last time we were here at Battle Grounds. However, my gut instinct tells me he doesn’t hold it against me. I’m starting to think I made a huge error in judgment four years ago and should have heard him out the first time. It must have been important enough for him to come back after all this time.

  Since the place is pretty dead, even at this hour of the day, Cooper returns to the table in no time. I don’t even have enough time to gather my thoughts and think about what I’m going to say to him. “So… ”

  “So,” he echoes in reply. “Look, I know this all might seem a little strange. I mean, we met four years ago and now here I am again harassing you.” He gives a nervous laugh, trying to break the tension.

  “Well, you have to admit, it is kind of suspect. I don’t know why you approached me then, and I certainly don’t know why you’re here now,” I say. “Why are you here, anyway?”

  Cooper takes a moment to respond, eyeing me as if figuring out the best way to approach whatever it is he has to say. “If you’ll excuse the sense of urgency,” he starts. “But we’ve wasted a lot of time. Years, actually, so I’ll just get to the point.”

  “I’m listening.” My curiosity is piqued as I stare at him, waiting to hear what all he has to say. “It’s okay, whatever it is, I’m sure I can deal.” At this point in my life, there really isn’t much I can’t handle. Being passed off from one foster family to another, having these abilities that I don’t understand, and carving a nice little life for myself, on my own terms. There’s isn’t anything he can say to weird me out.

  “Well, I’ll just come right out and say it. This isn’t your reality, Etta.”

  Except this.

  I laugh because there isn’t any other way to respond upon hearing something like this. “You mean like a parallel universe?” I watch mega tons of television. The idea of different realities is a concept I’m familiar with, but that’s fiction. This is real life. Alternate realities just don’t exist. I’m no physicist, but they don’t call it science fiction for nothing.

  I can tell he’s not sure if I’m just humoring him by my response or if I actually believe him. “Actually, there are many universes. And you happened to be in the wrong one.”

  “Oh really? And you know this because?” This is definitely not the direction I thought this conversation was going, but I decide to hear him out. If anything, I’ll get a good laugh out of it. “Wait, don’t tell me, you’re from the future.”

  “Judging by your sarcasm, I know you don’t believe me, darlin’, but it’s true.”

  “Yeah? Prove it.” This has to be good. I seriously doubt he can prove not only that alternate universes exist, but that I’m in the wrong one. And here I’ve been sitting all nervous about what he was going to say, just to find out he’s missing a few scr
ews.

  Not deterred by my skepticism, he reaches into his jeans pocket. “Here,” he says, sliding something in my direction. “Maybe this will convince you.”

  It’s an old locket. I gently open the tiny clasp and gaze at the two figures in the photo. There’s a beautiful woman on one side and a picture of a small baby in the other. I can tell from the faded photographs that it’s fairly old. “So? This doesn’t tell me anything.”

  “Check the inscription in the back,” he urges.

  I flip the locket to its back side. I can make out the names in fine, worn lettering:. Etta and Isabel, 1993. My hand slightly shakes as I place the necklace back on the table. “Anyone could have inscribed that,” I point out. “You could have had this made at any gift shop.”

  A deep, heavy sigh escapes Cooper. “True, but I really don’t have any reason to lie or pull some sort of scam. Think about it. Have I ever asked you for anything?”

  What he’s saying is true. All he’s ever asked of me is my time, and he does have a point. What can he possibly gain by telling me this unless it’s true? I decide to give him the benefit of the doubt—for the time being. “Okay, so where did you get it?”

  “Your Aunt Maggie gave it to me. After she trusted it to me for safekeeping, I presented it to you for your twenty-fourth birthday,” he explains. “When we came up with a plan to set the timeline back on course, you loaned it back to me so that I can try to convince you of who and what you are.”

  “Wait, go back a second. Who gave you the locket?”

  “Maggie. She’s your aunt. You live with her and your father in the other reality. The one where you belong.”

  “And my mother?” I can only assume that due to the significance of this locket, it means she isn’t alive. My gaze goes back to the yellowed photo in the locket. I don’t even remember what she looked like. Was that really her looking back at me from the marred glass?