Chapter Thirty-Three

“You’re jumpier than a flea-bitten filly,” Pa said, wrapping his arm around me as we walked to The Mud Hut. It was only eight in the morning, but I could tell it was going to be a hot day. Either that, or I was sweating from nerves.

“That guy who killed Mom? Is there any chance of parole?” I kicked at a rock on the pavement. “He’s been in jail a long time.”

“Slim to nothing. He won’t be getting out of the pokey anytime soon.”

The image of his car speeding toward me flashed across my mind. I hoped it would lessen with time, but I knew it would never go away. “Didn’t you want to kill him?” I asked.

“Darn tootin’ I did. At first. But staying mad wouldn’t bring your mother back. And I had you.”

My father’s anger may have subsided, but mine was just getting started. I kicked another rock sending it against a tree. It had been the drunk driver’s third offense, but I didn’t trust our judicial system.

“I thought it would get easier,” I said. “But lately, I miss her more than ever.”

My father stopped walking and placed his hands on my shoulders. “I miss her every day. But she’s here.” He placed his hand on his heart. “And she always will be.”

“I know. And something else I know. Your dreams do mean something. You were mumbling weird stuff when you fell asleep in your chair last night.”

“Strange, I had one last night. I haven’t had one like that one in ages.”

“What Renn said could be true.” I looped my arm through my pa’s and steered him to the left. Up ahead loomed the coffee mug shaped sign of The Mud Hut.

“I won’t go down that road. But the dream sure felt real, more like a memory.”

“Those are the things I want you to tell me about for my movie,” I said. “So that my characters are three dimensional and believable.”

“You don’t need my help for that.”

“Yes, I do. And I’ve got a title. I’m calling it The Time Traveling Matchmaker.”

Pa gave me a sideways glance. “Just keep it in your noggin’.” He tapped my head. “Don’t forget you’re writing fiction.”

“Most fiction is based on reality.” Not wanting to get into the absurdity of time traveling with him yet again, I changed the subject. “I’m really glad Aunt Beth decided to leave. She needs to get out and have more fun.”

Last night at dinner Aunt Beth announced her decision to go with Uncle Joe to Africa. After all, he was her soulmate.

“It took some conniving on my part to convince your aunt. You know how she worries about you,” Pa said. “But I’ll be here.”

“You don’t need to stay,” I said, although I really wanted him to. Not to look after me, but because I knew I would miss him. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad you’re staying. But you don’t have to worry about me.”

“That’s part of my job.”

When we reached The Mud Hut, my pa opened the door for me. The coffee smells rushed forward, reminding me of my working days.

“Hey, guys,” Kyle said as we approached the counter. Puffy bags showed under his eyes.

“What’d you do? Stay up all night?” I asked.

“Pretty much. I worked on my website, and I finally talked to Heather. She was pretty freaked out about what happened to you.”

“Are you guys good?”

He nodded. “Friends. That’s it. We sorted out a lot of things. So, what can I get you? It’s on the house.”

I ordered a soy latte. My father wanted a plain cup of Joe, as he put it. The fancy drink names were too much for him.

After we placed our order, Kyle motioned for me to come closer so he could whisper in my ear. “A woman came in here earlier wearing a trench coat.”

A panicky sensation filled my stomach. I chewed on the side of my cheek, tasting a drop of blood on my tongue.

“She sat at that table where Renn always sat, writing on a weird shaped tablet, like he used to.”

“Who was she watching?”

“Me,” Kyle said.

I reached my hand across the counter, giving his hand a quick pat. “They don’t want you. It’s me they want.”

“I’m not so sure,” Kyle said. “She was watching me and tapping her fingernail on her screen. She was so intense.”

“I wouldn’t worry. She’s probably camming, as Renn calls it, everyone who knows me. Thanks for the drinks.” I moved aside to let the young couple behind me place their order.

After getting our drinks, Pa and I took a seat in the center of the coffee shop. As it was after nine, the usual morning regulars had come and gone, and now the place was filled with the all-dayers, the ones working on the next big screenplay or novel and a few moms with little kids.

My father took off his cowboy hat and hung it on the back of the empty chair next to him. “So, this is where you earn your dinero”

“It’s a fun place,” I said. “I’m anxious to get back on the schedule.”

“You don’t need to worry your pretty head about that, Jess. Just concentrate on school, like we talked about.”

“We’ll see.” I took a sip of my drink, the first jolt of caffeine spreading throughout my body.

For the next few minutes, we sat without talking. Pa was like that. Talkative one minute. Quiet the next. Film ideas floated through my mind. I jotted them on a napkin.

“Writing?” my father asked.

I finished a thought and looked up. “I’m really glad you’re here,” I said.

“Ditto.” He raised his take-out cup, his eyes sparking below his bushy brows.

I giggled.

My pa started to say something else but then his gaze drifted over my shoulder. Noticing the question seep into his brows, I turned around to see who stood behind me.

“Hi, Jessica.” It was a young woman in a trench coat. Her voice was as soft and melodious as Arlianna’s. A small tattoo of a bird covered the side of her face. When its wings fluttered, I knew immediately she was a Time Traveling Matchmaker. My stomach felt queasy.

“Is it Renn?” I started to get up. “Is he…”

“He’s alive.” The woman smiled. Her teeth sparkled white against her tanned skin. “Hello, Mr. Singleton. My name is Moira.” She extended her hand toward my father. “It’s a pleasure. I’ve read a lot about you.”

I glanced at my father, wondering if he was going to say something to her about how preposterous Renn’s story was, but instead he said, “Pleasure’s mine, Ma’am.”

As they shook hands, Moira’s locator beeped. When she raised her arm, her trench coat crinkled, in the same manner as Renn’s.

“He’ll be back soon,” Moira said, as if reading my mind. “It’s all over.” The wings on her tattoo fluttered.

“What about Arlianna?” I asked.

“MIA. For now.”

I cringed, remembering the last time I saw her as the chunk of glass dropped on us. We’d made eye contact for a split second, fear vibrating between us. I prayed she was safe.

Moira glanced at her locator. “I must run. Peace.” She made the peace sign, turned around, and walked out the door.

When no after-image appeared, I turned back to my father. He raised his eyebrows.

“Whoever these people are, they sure possess imaginations. I’ll give you that,” he said.

“Can’t you admit it might all be true?” I asked.

He took a sip of his coffee. “You’re stubborn just like your mom. Listening to you reminds me of her. Makes me miss her even more.”

We fell back into our silence. I ran my finger over the top of my cup, remembering their wedding. I didn’t think I was anywhere near as beautiful as my mom. Natasha could torture me all she wanted, but she could never take away the memory of my mother.

A few minutes later a stranger about my age dressed in bell-bottom jeans and an Indian print shirt with a matching headband walked into The Mud Hut.

Kyle had written a research paper on the Hippie Generation back in high school, and this girl looked like she stepped from one of his photographs. Her long blonde hair fell to the middle of her back. Beaded earrings dangled from her ears. The words FLOWER POWER were embroidered on her cloth purse.

But what I noticed most were her eyes. They were a dark blue with flecks of gold. As she stood in front of Kyle, his face lit up. He couldn’t take his eyes off the girl’s, and I knew it wasn’t because of their color.

“Papa.” I touched his hand. “See that girl?”

He nodded.

“I think she’s Kyle’s soulmate. That Moira, who was here earlier, is the matchmaker.”

My father squinted as he watched them. He shook his head but didn’t say anything.

During his break, Kyle sat with us. All he could talk about was the hippie. Her name was Zoe, and he said looking at her made him crazy with desire.

“She said she’d be back tomorrow.” Kyle drummed his fingers on the table. “Do you think she will be?”

“Definitely,” I said.

“This is so freaking weird.” Kyle cracked his knuckles. “All those things you told me about Renn. I get it now.”

My father closed his eyes and rocked back and forth, almost like he was in a trance. “Papa?”

He stared at me, but I knew he was remembering my mother’s face.

“Are you okay?”

“Just thinking.”

Perhaps he was beginning to believe he came from the past.

Kyle touched my arm. I welcomed the familiar zing. “Did she say anything about Renn?”

“He’s still alive.” A lump formed in my throat.

“Patience,” he said.

That’s what everyone kept saying. And that’s what my heart was telling me, too. I just wanted Renn to get back here already so we could start our Happily Ever After.