Revolution in Time (Out of Time #10) Read online

  Jack nearly choked on his soda. He coughed a few times to clear his throat. “Like with a baby?”

  Simon opened his mouth to ask what else Jack thought Elizabeth might be pregnant with but snapped it shut and let them have their moment. Ever since they’d met him on a mission to England during World War Two, Jack had been like family. More like family than Simon’s blood relatives. And besides Simon, Jack was the only family Elizabeth had.

  She nodded and Jack barked out a loud laugh. He came around the center island and shook Simon’s hand vigorously then took Elizabeth into a big hug before letting her go and holding her at arm’s length.

  “Well, I’ll be damned,” Jack said. “A baby.”

  He shook Simon’s hand again and turned back to Elizabeth. “Should you be sitting down, or something?”

  She glanced over at Simon. “Lying down maybe.”

  Simon snorted; happily, the joke flew over Wells’ head. Jack was clearly still too busy wrapping his mind around it all.

  Jack shook his head in awed disbelief. “Wow, the kid’s having a kid.”

  “Eventually,” Elizabeth said. “Still a few months to go.”

  “How long?”

  She shrugged. “A few months probably. I’m not sure exactly.”

  “We’ll call Dr. Simmons in the morning.”

  Despite Simon’s protestations of wanting to keep her to himself for the duration, making an appointment had never been far from his mind. He would feel better when he knew everything was on course and their baby—the mere thought of those words still sent a thrill through him—was healthy.

  Jack shook his head in awe. “You know, I’m kind of a great babysitter. Kids love me.”

  “No doubt they relate to you,” Simon said.

  Jack laughed. “Probably. Think he’ll like baseball?”

  “She,” Simon corrected, “and I don’t know.”

  “She, huh? Well, if I have anything to say about it, she will. Strap the kid on with one of those papoose things, beer in one hand, ready to catch a ball with the other.”

  “I cannot begin to tell you how many things are wrong with that.”

  Before Jack could respond, Elizabeth intervened.

  “We’ll be glad to have your help. To be honest, I’m a little bit on the freaking-out side.”

  That gave Simon pause. So far, she’d not given any inkling that she was anything but calm and content. In an odd way, he actually found it comforting—not being alone in his occasional state of panic.

  Jack smiled reassuringly. “You’ll be great.” He glanced over at Simon and then back to her. “Both of you.”

  “And so,” Simon said, “I’m sure you can see why I’d like to have some time—”

  A loud sound emanating from Jack’s pocket interrupted him. It sounded a bit like a car refusing to start on a cold day crossed with some poor animal taking its dying breath. Jack held up a finger as he reached for his phone.

  Elizabeth grinned. “The TARDIS?”

  Vaguely, Simon recognized that as something to do with Doctor Who. Considering Jack was a man torn from his time in the 1940s, he embraced popular culture more than Simon did.

  “Set it for Travers,” Jack said as he accepted the call. “This is Wells.”

  While Jack turned and took a few steps away to take his call, Simon sighed. He’d been this close to getting rid of the man.

  He looked at Elizabeth and from her expression, she knew what he was thinking. She held up a placating hand.

  “All right,” Jack said. “Yeah, I know it. Okay.”

  He ended the call and turned back to them. “I hate to cut this short, but I’ve got to—”

  “Don’t let us keep you,” Simon said, quickly stepping forward and taking Wells by the arm, urging him to leave.

  Jack laughed. “Here’s your hat, what’s your hurry, huh?”

  He grabbed onto his unfinished soda and smiled. “It’s all right. I know when I’m not wanted.”

  Simon was about to offer a smart reply about how strong the evidence was to the contrary when Elizabeth chimed in.

  “You’re always welcome here.”

  Jack nodded, serious again. He looked Elizabeth up and down and then shook his head with the same awed confusion Simon felt. “A baby.”

  Elizabeth positively glowed in response, and her hand covered her flat, for now, belly. “Yup.”

  Jack looked to Simon. “You ready for this?”

  Simon took a moment to actually think about the question and the depth of its meaning. Despite the fear he’d somehow muck it all up, he was ready. He was more than ready. He put his arm around Elizabeth and pulled her close to his side. “Very.”

  “All right. Let me know if you need anything,” Jack said as he finally started for the door.

  Simon and Elizabeth followed close behind.

  “You got a mission with the Council coming up?” Elizabeth asked.

  Jack frowned. “Not sure. Hopefully. I’ll let you know.” He glanced at Simon and a knowing smile came to his face. “In a few days.”

  Elizabeth waggled her eyebrows. “At least.”

  Simon cleared his throat. “Elizabeth.”

  Wells laughed and gave them a wave as he walked down the front steps.

  Simon closed the door behind him. Elizabeth started for the kitchen, but he took hold of her and pulled her back into his arms.

  “Now, where was I?” he asked.

  She grinned, tilted her head back and pointed to her neck. “Somewhere around here, I think.”

  Simon hmm’d and leaned in to kiss the pulse point of her throat. She sighed in response.

  Without breaking contact, one of his hands reached out and turned the deadbolt. “At least” started right now.

  ~~~

  Jimmy P’s was the sort of bar Jack liked—no frills, no WiFi, no food that wasn’t fried. He let his eyes adjust to the darkness before he walked further inside. Not that he had any reason to think this was anything other than a friendly meeting, but old habits died hard.

  It had been weeks since Jack had had anything to do. He’d been so used to being in action, either as a spy for the OSS during World War II, or as an operative for the Council. He was itching for a mission. Travers had been putting him off, until now.

  The place was nearly empty. Not all that surprising since it was barely mid-afternoon. The smell of stale beer hung heavy in the air and his shoes stuck to the floor as he walked past the bar. He found Travers sitting in one of the small booths in the corner, nursing a drink.

  “Little early for that, isn’t it?” Jack asked as he came to the table.

  Travers started then composed himself and gestured toward the empty seat across from him.

  Jack slid in while Travers, the head of the Council, played with the straw in his drink. Jack sat back and waited, but Travers just kept staring down into his near-empty glass, pushing the ice around. When another moment went by without him saying anything, Jack spoke up.

  “You’ve got something for me?”

  “Hmm?” Travers looked up, confused for a moment; he’d clearly been miles away. Definitely off his game. Jack studied him more closely. His clothes were wrinkled, what little beard he was able to grow showed as a light stubble on his cheeks, and his eyes were heavy with sleepless nights. Something big was definitely in the works, and Jack had a hunch it wasn’t good.

  “What’s wrong?”

  Travers frowned. He paused for a moment, collecting his thoughts, then moved his drink away and clasped his hands on the table in front of him.

  “Something is happening.”

  “That’s nice and vague,” Jack said.

  Travers’ frown deepened. He glanced around the bar and leaned forward.

  “There’s something wrong with the Council.”

  “And in other news …”

  “I’m quite serious, Mr. Wells.”

  Travers was a worrier by nature, but this was clearly something more than the usual co
ncern.

  “What’s going on?”

  “I’m not sure. I’m not ….” Travers’ voice trailed off and he looked almost embarrassed. “I’ve been demoted.”

  That was a surprise. Travers might be fairly new to the job of director of the Council for Temporal Studies, but as far as Jack could tell he’d done a hell of a job.

  “I thought you were the boss.”

  Travers smiled ruefully. “I was, but even the director answers to the board. And they, in their infinite wisdom, have removed me.”

  That, at least, explained the haggard look. Travers lived and breathed the Council; to lose his job would be a blow.

  He took a last slurping draw from his straw. “They want to move in another direction.”

  “Meaning?”

  “Apparently, I’m too soft. Letting people like the Crosses and ….”

  “Me?”

  Travers nodded. “Letting untrained individuals ‘run wild’ in time was irresponsible. And so, my tenure as director has come to an abrupt end.”

  So much for any more missions, Jack thought.

  Travers lifted his empty glass and waved it toward the bartender.

  As much of a loss as it was for Jack, it was ten times worse for Travers.

  “I’m sure it’s just temporary.”

  “No, I don’t think it is.”

  That left them both out in the cold. It wasn’t like there was another temporal council they could move to.

  “I’m sure you’ll find something,” Jack said. “Something even better.”

  They were hollow words, but what else could he say?

  Travers looked surprised and then shook his head. “Oh, I’m not upset about the job. I mean, I am. I worked hard to become director and then to have it snatched away—”

  “But?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “This isn’t Shadow Council stuff, is it? I thought we took care of that after Cairo.”

  “We did. But not satisfactorily. Not according to the new board. George Hawkins, Burgess, Phillips, they’re all new.”

  “How does that happen? I mean, a new board at a place like the Council.”

  Travers shrugged. “The same way it happens everywhere. Powers shift. Objectives change. For years the Council has been dedicated to the idea of observing and preserving history, keeping the timeline intact. But there have always been elements that thought we were too passive, that we should adjust time for the betterment of humanity. Some members believed that our perceived passivity is what gave rise to the Shadow Council.” He sighed. “I suppose there’s some truth in that.”

  “But what’s the alternative?”

  “I’m not sure,” Travers said. “And that’s what worries me.”

  The bartender appeared with Travers’ drink. Travers picked it up and took a deep pull.

  The bartender smirked and looked at Jack. “You want a Shirley Temple, too, I suppose?”

  Jack managed not to smile and shook his head.

  The bartender humphed and took the empty glass away.

  “Better take it easy with that,” Jack said.

  Travers delicately wiped the corner of his mouth. “This isn’t a joking situation, Mr. Wells.”

  “Jack.”

  Travers nodded impatiently. “Yes, yes.”

  Jack reached for his cell phone. “Maybe Cross has some ideas—”

  “No, please. Not yet. After sending them on this last mission, I’d rather not approach them until we have more to go on.”

  Translation, Simon would probably punch him in the face for risking their lives on the Titanic. And that was something Jack would get back to Travers on, too, but first, he wanted to get to the bottom of this. Simon and Elizabeth’s plate was full with the pregnancy now, anyway. No need to bother them until there was an actual reason to.

  “All right.” Jack put his cell phone away. “So what do we do?”

  Travers shook his head. “Nothing for now. Wait and see what they’re up to. I still have a few friends on the inside,” he added.

  Jack had dealt with moles before. It was a dangerous game. “You trust them?”

  “There aren’t many people I do, but, yes; I trust them with my life.”

  “Good,” Jack said. “Because, if history is any guide, it just might come to that.”

  Chapter Five

  THE FIRST FEW WEEKS at home were a blissful blur. The initial visit to the doctor had gone perfectly. Mother and child were doing wonderfully, and Simon was happier than he’d ever been in his life. For once, he wasn’t counting the days waiting for the other shoe to drop. Now, he was counting the days until his child would arrive, which, by the doctor’s best estimate, was 165 or so more days to go. Five and a half more months until he could hold his child.

  It was a revelation. His days were no longer filled with questions about life and death, but about what color to paint the nursery. Was Mozart or Bach better for fetal development? Would she love him as instantly as he would love her?

  He was content.

  It was a far better way to spend his time than worrying over whatever nonsense the Council was up to. As far Simon was concerned, that was no longer any concern of theirs. He was quite happy to focus everything on Elizabeth and the baby. And on this absurd bid for renovating the guest bedroom.

  With a frown, he put it aside with the others.

  “No, I think you’ve got a shot.” Elizabeth’s voice came from the foyer. They were back. Simon left the bills and paperwork in his office to join her.

  “That would be nice,” Jack said.

  Elizabeth unzipped her sweatshirt and tossed it over the back of a chair. Her form-fitting yoga clothes definitely showed off her slowly, but perceptibly, changing figure. Simon chose not to look at what Jack’s yoga pants revealed.

  “How was it?” he asked.

  Elizabeth beamed. “Great.”

  When Elizabeth had decided to take prenatal yoga and suggested he join her, Simon had nearly choked on his scone. For reasons that weren’t entirely clear to him, Jack had said he wanted to go.

  Simon gave Elizabeth’s cheek a kiss. “What are you two talking about?”

  “Belinda,” Jack said with a grin.

  “This is prenatal Pilates, isn’t it? Pregnant women? Married women.”

  Jack looked at him with distaste. “I take a different class. Besides, you don’t hit on women during class.” He moved his hands back and forth like he was rolling dough between them. “It’s about the transition between classes.”

  He took off his own sweatshirt and threw it on the table as he started for the kitchen. “Pilates is gold, my friend. Gold.”

  Well, that explained his reasoning, at least.

  Elizabeth took Simon’s arm and led him along after Jack. “And what have you been up to?”

  He frowned, remembering the bids. “The nursery.”

  “We could always build it all ourselves. Might be fun?”

  “You with a hammer and saw and nail gun. What could possibly go wrong?”

  Elizabeth laughed. “All right. But some of it we’re going to do ourselves. We need to leave our imprint on the room.”

  It was stuff and nonsense, and he wasn’t even sure she believed it, but it amused her and anything that made her happy made him happy. “Of course.”

  They joined Jack in the kitchen where he was already making himself at home. His mouth full, he offered them some of his banana. “Want some?”

  “Of your half-eaten banana?” Simon said. “As appealing as that offer is ….”

  Jack shrugged and took another enormous bite.

  “But you should eat something,” Simon said to Elizabeth. “How about some Greek yogurt?”

  Elizabeth made a face. “If I eat much more of that stuff, she’s gonna come out doing the Sirtaki.”

  She stretched her arms out and started the slow traditional Greek dance.

  Simon pushed her arm down. “Very funny.”

  Jack chuc
kled.

  “It’s high in protein. Have you taken your vitamins today?”

  She nodded. “I am overflowing with folic acid.”

  Jack made a sour face and Elizabeth laughed.

  Simon didn’t join in. “It’s very important that you—”

  The doorbell chimed again and Elizabeth grinned. “Saved by the bell.”

  Elizabeth made a quick exit and Simon followed. She grabbed her sweatshirt and put it on as she opened the door.

  The flower delivery man held a large colorful bouquet and read from his clipboard. “Cross?”

  “Yes.” Simon stepped forward and signed for the flowers.

  “Pretty.”

  Simon frowned, but took the flowers inside and set them on the table. He read the card. “From the Mythology department. Didn’t think you had it in you, old boy. Best, Aumond.”

  Simon grunted. He hated Aumond under the best of circumstances. Not to mention the idea of those pompous busybodies at university having a window into his world outside of those dreary halls. And now, somehow, they’d found out about Elizabeth’s pregnancy.

  “How sweet,” Elizabeth said as she admired them. Then she noticed Simon’s expression. “What?”

  “How on earth do they know?”

  She cringed adorably. “I might have let it slip yesterday when I went in to collect those papers for the staff meeting.”

  “Elizabeth—”

  She held up a hand. “I know, I know. You don’t want people all up your business, but they’re just happy for us. They mean well.”

  Simon wasn’t sure Aumond did, but her point was made.

  She carried the flowers into the kitchen.

  No matter how much he wanted the world to stay just the two—

  “Hey,” Jack called from the kitchen.

  Or three, Simon silently corrected, the world simply didn’t work that way. He hadn’t even told his family in England yet. He knew they’d be happy for an heir, at least. And happy for him, he supposed, as much as their cold, barren, patrician hearts could be. He added sharing the news with his family to his to-do-someday list. But for now, he was content with the family he had here.

  “How about barbecue for dinner?” Jack yelled out. “I think I need ribs.”