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  “Touch my shoulder,” Charlotte instructed. She felt Charlie’s hand on her leg, Felix’s grip on her shoulder. The rain glittered and shimmered, making this dark day bright. “Here we go,” she murmured, releasing her hand from the top of the orb.

  The rain froze for a split second then zoomed back up into the cloud. The concrete dried. The sun whirled around. Ghostly shapes of cars and people flew by. And then the sun settled far above, still noon, six years prior.

  “What?” Felix stammered. His eyes were wider, but were still darting everywhere. Trying to catch up with all his eyes had seen. “What happened?” A shudder ran through him and his gaze fixed on Charlotte, his brow crinkled upward. “It’s a time machine?”

  “You … ?” Even Bill hadn’t realized it so fast. “It is.”

  “I was going to ask,” he said, spinning to Charlie, tugging the boy’s backpack off. He zipped it open, pulled out a stack of drawings, with one of Charlotte’s orb at the top. “I thought I was crazy,” Felix said, but there was water in his eyes, enthusiasm on his lips. “How could Charlie have been to the premiere of Star Wars?” He flipped through and found a drawing to match, a marquis showing opening night. Below stood two stick figures in red hats taking tickets. “Or how could he have seen Cats? Or know about New Amsterdam? Or met one of the Lenape?” He tugged the drawings out to show Charlotte: two human-shaped cats singing on a stage, a rowboat drifting along a canal, a wandering man with a spear in hand—her ancestor, according to Monroe. “I didn’t think Monroe’s love of history could rub off that much, so I started thinking crazy things. But it’s true?” Felix looked up from the pages, his face wide open with confusion. “Charlotte, how is this possible?”

  For a second, Charlotte couldn’t respond. She dropped the astrolabe into her bag and took the stack from Felix’s hands, rifling through. There was the Empire State Building under construction. There was a man in a fedora, a burning cigarette at his lips. But there was no image in the entire stack of Dad. Charlie’s grandpa was still hers to share.

  “Come on,” Charlotte said, handing the pages back to Felix. “We have somewhere to be.”

  As they walked, Charlotte explained everything she had to Bill and Monroe. But Felix shook his head at her schematics. He didn’t want to hear the technical details, he wanted to hear her story. When she’d known, how she’d perfected it, what the plan was.

  Felix kept drifting away from the conversation, holding his phone up to take pictures, grazing a hand along buildings. Only six years in the past, not much had changed. But Felix noticed the little things, like the fallen ads squished into the street. The old McDonald’s branding on a cup in the trash. A boy reading an old issue of Daredevil on the day it came out. Felix’s keen eyes snagged every tiny difference. It was what made him such a strong graphic designer. It was why Charlotte loved being with him.

  But at last, a final question from Felix froze her in her tracks, just inside the door of Mt. Sinai Hospital. “And it’s safe?”

  The same damn question Bill and Monroe had asked.

  She couldn’t answer. Unable to lie, unable to tell the truth, she simply stared at Felix, watching as his nostrils widened in rage. His dark eyes dilated. His cheeks burned from rosy to red.

  “Cha—” he said at full volume, cut himself off, then started again softer. “Charlotte, what the hell? Why are we here, then?”

  “It’s more complicated than that, Felix!” she said, whispering like him, trying to push Charlie toward the elevator like all was okay. But when he kept his head studiously forward, striding away, she knew he’d heard them. “There’s this man, threatening us. But we have to keep going. The world is wrong, and we’re the only ones who can stop it.”

  “Wrong? What are you … ?” Felix stepped back. His jaw agape. “The Octagon.”

  “It’s not safe,” Charlotte said, stepping toward him, trying to keep an eye on Charlie. “But it can be. If you come, if you watch Charlie, then we can do both. Save the city, reverse the Blast, and keep Charlie safe. He’ll even get to see more history.”

  Such a paltry addition. Like that changed anything.

  Felix swallowed. “Charlie’s in trouble?” God, she’d practically admitted it.

  “That’s why I need you. Only I know tech. I’m the only one who can defuse—”

  “There are a million other people who could, Charlotte! Actual bomb technicians! Someone from the future! Anyone but you.”

  “It has to be me, Felix.” If it wasn’t, if she stayed at home with Charlie and Felix, then she’d be erased from the timeline, some other Charlotte replacing her. She couldn’t let that happen. Not to her. Not to Monroe or Bill. And sure as hell not to Charlie and Felix. “And you have to come along.”

  He shook his head, but joined Charlie at the elevator. The door slid open, and the three of them entered in silence. Charlotte pressed the button for the correct floor. She’d never forget this week, the room number where Dad slept.

  “So where are we?” Felix said when the doors slid back open. “When did you take us?”

  Instead of replying, Charlotte took Charlie’s hand and led him down the hallway to Dad’s door. She knelt before her beautiful boy and looked him in the eyes. This close, she could see the deep brown rims of his pupils, the freckles spattering his tiny cheeks, the cut in his eyebrow from a fall as a toddler. “Today you’re going to meet someone very special, okay?”

  The boy frowned, his thick lips matching his father’s exactly. She was never able to share features with her own Dad, but that didn’t mean she loved him any less. “Who is it?” Charlie asked.

  Even if Felix was still furious, Charlotte couldn’t help but smile slightly. Charlie hadn’t been here. This was going to be a first for all of them. “You’ll see,” Charlotte said, taking his right hand in her left. She pushed the door open and entered.

  As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, the slow beeping, the ragged intake of breath calmed her. Reminded her where she was. Why she was here. Here was an irreversible death, but she could steal a few extra minutes.

  “Dad?” Charlotte asked, clicking on the light he preferred. Not the one directly overhead, but the one behind his head. It allowed him to see without being overwhelmed with brightness. As the light glowed to life, dozens of tubes reflected, like streams leading away from Dad’s face, his arm, even leading away underneath the sheet. Like a scene from a sci-fi horror, but sterilized.

  Charlotte stepped forward, letting him see her.

  His eyes were milky, his thinning hair disheveled. In this state, weakened from months of being housebound, it was hard to believe he’d ever served on the force. That he’d ever taught Charlotte to get rid of her stomach through working out. He coughed, lifting a hand to his mouth, before rasping, “Charlotte?”

  She drew near, rubbing a hand over his clammy forehead. Smoothing his hair. “I brought someone to meet you.”

  His head tilted. “Ah, Felix,” he said. “Your wedding was so beautiful.”

  It had only been months ago to him. It’d taken Monroe all day to get him outside, into a cab, and down to his seat. He hadn’t moved once, but he’d been smiling the entire time.

  Felix stood in the doorway. One hand perched on Charlie’s shoulder, the other a few inches below his mouth, frozen before he’d been able to hide his astonishment. “I …” he tried. On their way down, Charlotte thought he’d adjusted. But it was one thing to see old artifacts lying on the street. Another to see a man resurrected.

  “We brought someone special, Dad,” Charlotte said. Giving Felix time to recover. Keeping focused on who this was for. She reached a hand out to Charlie. The boy had hung back, still at the door, waiting, frowning. “Charlie, meet your grandpa.”

  The boy’s shoulders fell, his eyes widened. “This is White Grandpa?”

  She couldn’t help her grin. The name was so ridiculous. So accurate. “This is him,” she said. Her son stepped forward once, then again, until his hand was in hers, standing
beside the man she’d lost before he was born.

  If only Monroe were here, the most important men in her life would be in this room.

  Dad’s white eyebrows pulled together slowly as he squinted. “Who?”

  “Dad, this is Charlie.”

  “Our son,” Felix added, his voice hoarse. He’d at last stepped in, but one hand still remained aloft, stuck. His left eyebrow was deep down, the other high on his forehead. He turned from Dad to Charlotte. Gone was his anger. As he watched her, both brows went high on his forehead. Gone was his confusion, too. All he had now was a gentle awe.

  “I know it’s confusing, Dad. But I discovered time travel and …” She shook her head. There was no way to make this less insane. “I wanted you to meet your grandson.”

  Her father’s eyes found her. “Time travel? Grandson?” Then his gaze drifted downward to Charlie. He squinted, probably only seeing a blur.

  “Step closer,” Charlotte encouraged, and Charlie did.

  “Charlie,” Dad repeated, rolling the name in his mouth. “That’s a good name.” It was his name, too. “Now then.” He pushed himself up a little, peered closer to Charlie, squinting. “You must be about five, am I right?”

  Charlie nodded.

  “You’re the same size as your mom when I found her,” he said. “Did she tell you about that day? Two lonely kids on a playground? You’re lucky, kiddo. You’ll never have to experience that.”

  Charlotte heard a creak beyond the door, and she spun to see the shadow move on. Likely just a nurse. Paris wouldn’t interrupt this.

  Dad coughed into his hands, his chest heaving, his throat getting raspier. He moaned when he was finished. “Well, go on, tell me a little about yourself.”

  Charlie looked back at Charlotte, so she nodded her permission. “I’m five,” Charlie said, slowly. “And I like to draw. I’m in preschool. I like building stuff with this metal thing Mom gave me. An … An …”

  “Erector set,” Charlotte filled in. A purchase she couldn’t help buying from the 70s.

  “Erector set, yeah.” Charlie grinned. “I love building stuff, just like Mom. And we go on special trips. I get to see anything I want, anything I’ve read about in one of Uncle ’Roe’s books.” Charlie was off like a shot, talking as he climbed up and snuggled with the grandpa he’d always hoped to meet. Gabbing about himself without thinking to ask questions. Without worrying about the tubes, the slightly increased beeping, or his grandpa’s fragile skin.

  As Charlie spoke, Dad pulled a hand up, ruffling his hair. His oldness was melting away, his smile growing. His breathing seemed smoother, his fingers more sensitive to a single strand of Charlie’s curls.

  Charlotte felt Felix step closer, a hand touch the small of her back. The exact thing he’d done on their wedding day before their kiss. Her feeling awkward in a too-long white dress. Him puffing out his chest in his tuxedo. Their officiant went on at length about the Blast. How it had taken so many lives, but had brought them together.

  Their life had been written by the tragedy of the Blast.

  But she wouldn’t let their lives be rewritten once the Blast had been reversed. So long as Felix came, so long as he watched Charlie, their personal history would be intact, as hers still was—remembering being married to Felix only yesterday. Even once they stopped the Blast, they still could’ve met there. Still would have married because of their connection during the mourning.

  She just needed Felix. Now more than ever.

  “I’m in,” came a whisper at her cheek. “How could I possibly stay away from something that can give you this?” She turned to see Felix, the awe on his lips firming up into resolution. “But you tell me everything. No more secrets, Charlotte. If I’m in, I’m in.”

  She gazed into his deep brown eyes, even as Charlie and Dad spoke to each other, oblivious. Charlie would be safe with Felix. She, Monroe, and Bill could seek out Ana. Together all of them could even face Paris if he came. But even as she promised, “No more secrets,” she wondered if that were true.

  How could she ever tell him that she’d married a different man?

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  THUNDER AND LIGHTNING

  JUNE 24, 2023

  After Mt. Sinai, Felix insisted on the lunch he’d planned. So Charlotte took them through time, and they had the meal. The only difference was that they didn’t fight. The air cleared as Charlotte told him about Ana, about the bombs, even about the blue-haired man that had threatened them. She implied the danger to Charlie, not wanting the boy to realize the danger he was in.

  When Charlotte finished, Charlie continued filling in Felix—and Charlotte, though he didn’t know it—on all of their travels. The life he talked about was everything Charlotte had hoped for: Monroe directing them through time and them exploring. Now Felix would come, too.

  By the time she dropped Felix and Charlie back off at their apartment, she could almost forget the rift. She could almost pretend that this was her Felix. And then, outside the door, still under umbrellas, Felix said, “That was amazing, Charlotte. We’ll see you soon?”

  She breathed, trying to remain calm. Even if this could be her Felix, that didn’t mean they were suddenly married. “Soon,” she said. “We just have to figure out when to go. Leanor didn’t really give us any clues.”

  Felix paused, biting one of his thick lips. “Couldn’t you just ask her?”

  “God, yes.” Now that she knew about Ana’s role in the Blast, Leanor wouldn’t be so coy. She’d give them a clue; she’d have to. “Thank you Felix.” She squeezed him and Charlie into a hug. Something she hadn’t felt in too long. “I can’t wait for our next trip.”

  As she walked back, the rain seemed lighter, almost worth taking down her umbrella. The splashes from passing taxis seemed cool, refreshing. Even Monroe’s apartment building looked cleaner, his door a beautiful stark white.

  Then she pushed through the door, and darkness reached out to her.

  Monroe still sat at the kitchen table beside the gloomy window, reading some book about the Blast. He barely looked up. “Char? Where have you been?”

  “I …” She closed the door behind her, but then noticed that Monroe wasn’t alone. Opposite from the kitchen, on the living room couch, sat Bill, playing a video game. “Bill, hey. You’re back.”

  He glanced over, twitching an eyebrow up. “If you’ll have me.”

  Monroe studiously read his book. Or at least, he stared at his book. His eyes weren’t moving.

  “Is everything okay?” Charlotte asked. Of course Bill could come along.

  “Everything’s okay,” Monroe said.

  “It’s all right,” Bill said, shutting off his game and standing. He approached, hands deep in his jeans pockets. “How’d things go with Felix?”

  “Great actually, we … “ Monroe still wasn’t interested, so Charlotte focused on Bill. “I told him everything, but he already suspected. According to Charlie, we’ve been traveling for a little over a year. I must’ve told you guys earlier in this timeline. But Felix understood, eventually. He’s going to join us.” Charlotte gulped. It wasn’t right for her to talk about all of this, when something had clearly happened while she was away.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t come home faster,” Charlotte said to Monroe. He didn’t lift his eyes from the page.

  Bill filled the silence. “After you told him? Did you go somewhere?”

  “To see Dad,” Charlotte said. “Charlie’s always wanted to meet his grandpa, but it was impossible until now. It was amazing though. He was smiling, strong, just like the man he once was.” Now Charlotte felt Monroe’s eyes boring a hole into her.

  “You’re sure you’re okay?” Charlotte asked, twisting to catch Monroe’s look.

  He dropped his gaze for only a moment, then returned it. “Bill wants to borrow your astrolabe.”

  That was all? Why was Monroe saying it like a death knoll? But as she watched Monroe, she remembered him beside the Lusitania. Was this more of the sa
me? Worrying Bill would change history? Or was this something deeper? A fear that this would only deepen the rift that had severed their connection yesterday?

  “I wanted to talk about possibly using the astrolabe,” Bill corrected. “Ana could be anywhere, anywhen, now, right? So we have a ton of time to search and I thought, why shouldn’t I?” He gulped and spread his hands. “Because I was thinking, though you could, didn’t you and Leanor do a lot of tests? This way you won’t accidentally run into yourself.”

  All of time was a lot to search, but Bill was right. Charlotte couldn’t risk running into herself. If only she’d made some schedule, charting out her activities. But she’d been careless, not realizing there were rules to time travel until Bill came along.

  “And in the plus column,” Monroe said, his voice barbed with fury, “Bill wouldn’t be distracted by history, right Bill?” Charlotte heard the implied, like Monroe would, and realized this must’ve been something Bill had said during their argument. “He wouldn’t be distracted by anything. Not the lives of others, not the forthcoming tragedies, no. Not Bill.” Monroe shut his book with a snap.

  Bill spun. “I wouldn’t! I told you, Monroe. I’ve been thinking. I see the sense in what you’ve said. Right now? It’s too much. If we’re going to stop the Blast”—he turned to Charlotte—“and we are going to stop the Blast, then we can’t change anything else. Not yet.”

  “Not ever.”

  Bill folded his arms over his chest. “Time can be fixed, Monroe. Time can be changed, so time can be fixed. 9/11 doesn’t have to happen. The Lusitania doesn’t have to be launched.”

  “Your parents don’t have to discard you?” Monroe stood. “Is that what this is about? Just think, if gay rights happened fifteen years earlier—”

  Bill drew himself up, squaring his shoulders. “That’s not what this is about. And please. Don’t tell me you don’t want to use the astrolabe to figure out why your parents abandoned you. Or is that different?” He tilted his head to one side, eyeing Monroe. “Did your parents hurt you less by leaving you before you had a chance to know them?”