Timing, page 13
Probably, like her, he was looking at his list of items to purchase.
But then again she wasn't entirely sure. She wished she could see what was on his screen. He'd stopped in front of the potatoes for what seemed longer than was necessary.
Just when she'd made up her mind to approach him, he vanished.
Right in front of her eyes.
Like literally, poof. One second he was there, and the next he was gone.
And he was nowhere in sight.
Mouth gaping, Hannah stood up fast and accidentally knocked some Twinkies to the floor. She hastily put them back on the shelf and scurried over to where she'd last seen Alexander, looking around for any signs of him. But there were none. Not even a trace.
Hannah began to feel funny after realizing that she didn't even know what she was looking for, or what she expected to find.
He wasn't here. Nothing was.
She was a crime inspector without a crime.
All she knew was one of two things had taken place: either the whole thing was a figment of her imagination or what she had seen was actually real.
She blinked a few times and rubbed her eyes. She was fairly certain there wasn't anything wrong with her eyes. She could read all of the prices in the store, even on the signs far away.
Wait… could she have possibly missed him leaving the produce section? Maybe there'd been some sort of an emergency, and Dr. Radcliff had summoned him home. There had to be some explanation…
People don't just disappear.
She abandoned the shopping basket and rushed outside to the parking lot, her mind a tornado of swirling, contradicting thoughts. She'd completely forgotten about Marie's shopping list.
Yet in her gut, Hannah knew.
Alexander had vanished.
She wasn't crazy. And she wasn't the type to imagine these types of things. At least she didn't think so. She'd sensed something mysterious about him… from the very beginning.
And then wham.
She'd been running out to the parking lot, eager to get back to her vehicle, when she rounded the bumper of a car and collided with someone.
The woman—who had to be three, maybe four times Hannah's age—dominoed to the ground with a gasp, landing square on her backside with her feet sprawled out in front of her like two chopsticks. Her purse, which looked more like a knapsack, tumbled right to the pavement along with her.
"Oh my gosh, excuse me," Hannah exclaimed. "I'm so sorry. I was in a hurry and—can I help you up?"
"Yes, yes, thank you." Cream gloves accepted Hannah's outstretched hand. "Nothing broken," she answered with a heavy accent, "it's quite alright, quite alright, I'm sure. I am fine, really."
The woman wore a hooded cloak which fastened at the sternum, and as she moved to get up, the hood fell, and wave upon wave of auburn hair spilled out and onto her shoulders. Her dazzling locks were punctuated by green eyes which pierced directly into Hannah's gaze.
Hannah froze. Her head angled to one direction as a strange sensation overcame her: a strong sense of recognition alerted in the farthest reaches of her memory… she had a feeling she'd encountered this woman before.
Before she could stop, Hannah blurted out, "Do I know you?"
For a split second, the woman's gaze flitted away and then back. "How would you, my dear?" she said. "I just moved here. From Germany." The woman chuckled as she wiped off her clothes. "My, my," she said good-naturedly, "and here I was just coming to get some food to fill my cupboards."
Hannah's hands came to rest on her hips. "You look so familiar. I get this feeling that we have—"
The woman cut her off. "Not unless you've been to Germany, young lady. And you hardly look old enough for such a trip."
Hannah smiled. Of course, the woman was right. How could she possibly know her? She was a complete stranger obviously from a foreign country. And then she suddenly remembered the real reason for rushing through the parking lot—to find Alexander. She really did need to get going.
"You're sure you're all right?"
"Of course, of course. It is nothing—really."
"Well, I'm sorry again for knocking you over. And have a nice day," Hannah offered the woman a friendly wave and moved hurriedly toward her car, her mind, once again, preoccupied with finding Alexander.
"Yes, yes, thank you dear." The woman remained motionless, observing her until she was no longer in view. Then, the woman muttered under her breath, "You have a nice day, too… Hannah."
CHAPTER 16—CLASS
Fifth period was about as boring as you could get. Literature. Hannah's least favorite subject. And, worst of all, they were reading about some idiot with a name Hannah had butchered in front of the whole class.
How was she to know it wasn't pronounced Don Quicks-Oat?
It had given everyone a good a laugh.
Mr. Wainwright had even laughed so hard that tears rolled down his face.
"Could this story get any more stupid?" Hannah whispered across the aisle to Eliza during silent reading. "I mean if I want to read a story, I want to read it and enjoy it. Not dissect it like the frogs in biology class, and then analyze it to death trying to find the hidden meaning of the author."
"Amen, sister," Eliza mouthed back. "Why don't you suggest that to Mr. Wainwright?"
"Hah, very funny. You know as well as I do that I'd end up right back in the principal's office. But—" Hannah passed a can of soda under the table, "—at least we've got this to keep us awake."
Mr. Wainwright's voice interrupted them. "Ah, Miss Bailey and Miss Zumwalt… and what are we dining on this afternoon? Caviar and champagne, I assume? I do hope you have enough to share with the rest of the class."
Books thudded on desktops around the room as dozens of eyes turned in their direction, some glaring as if they'd been interrupted from a five-star movie.
"Now you've done it," Eliza snapped, shoving the can back into her palm like a hot potato.
Hannah scrambled for the right words.
"Uh, no Mr. Wainwright," she said formally. "We don't drink alcoholic beverages."
There were snickers around the room.
Next, she cupped her hands around her mouth, lowered her voice, and whispered to him as if sharing an exclusive secret, "I had to have something to down my allergy medicine with."
Which was actually the truth, although she was 99.999% certain he didn't believe her.
Wainwright's face looked like a squeezed grapefruit.
Here it comes, thought Hannah, another visit to Lymas & Friends. And who knew what the Fruit Loop Bird would chirp out this time…
Precisely at that very moment, though, the classroom door swung open.
Evidently on this day, the school gods were on Hannah's side, because in walked Alexander Stastny.
"Excuse me, Mr. Wainwright," Alexander said primly as he handed over a yellow slip of paper and began scanning the room, his eyes coming to rest squarely on Hannah.
Her heart did a cartwheel as his gaze possessed her.
"Welcome to the class, Mr… uh…" Wainwright searched for Alexander's surname on the slip, "Uh-em… Mr. Stastny."
By the time he'd discovered it, the Russian had already parked himself in an empty desk—right next to Hannah.
"Folks, we're going to continue reading Don Quixote for the rest of class, only this time we're moving to partner reading." Everyone groaned. "Choose your partner but, please note (sharp glance at Hannah), food and beverages aren't allowed until halftime—I mean lunchtime—which, alas, for those of you who haven't yet figured it out (another glance her way), has already come and gone. Please begin."
Quick matches were made by even quicker glances exchanged around the room.
Hannah couldn't believe it. Fate had, once again, intervened—but this time in a nice way.
Maybe this guy was good luck after all.
"You ready?" He'd already scooted his desk next to hers.
"But Eliza and I are partners—"
"She won't care." He turned to Eliza and flashed a luminous smile. "Would you mind, Eliza, if I borrow your friend for a little while?"
Eliza practically melted in his charm. "Oh yeah, of course, you two go together. I'll join up with Mellow Yellow."
Right then, Craig Olsen, a friendly guy with freckles all over his face and arms and canary yellow hair—hence the nickname Mellow Yellow—had motioned for Eliza to join him.
"Are you sure, Liza?" Hannah asked.
"Absolutely." She grinned, adding, "Do you really think I want you to get me in trouble again?" She got up and grabbed her backpack. "Have fun with the foreigner," she mouthed in Hannah's ear. "And see you in gym class."
Hannah looked at Alexander. "I thought we didn't have any classes together," she said, still confused as to how he'd managed to appear out of nowhere.
"We do now," he replied, his lips twitching in amusement. "I arranged a transfer."
She couldn't help but grin.
After they'd read some half-dozen pages, she decided to quietly press him about what she'd seen.
"I saw you yesterday," she said.
"Mmm."
"In the grocery store."
"Yes," he seemed thoughtful for only a moment, "people do frequently visit stores to purchase items for popular consumption."
"What were you doing?" she asked.
"What do people usually do in a grocery store?"
"But I saw you… one minute you were there and then the next…" she lowered her voice to barely above a whisper, "the next you were gone."
She'd gotten his attention.
But he'd also gotten hers.
While she'd been firing off questions, he'd moved his chair so near to her that their thighs touched. Meanwhile, his hand—hidden by the large textbook—had snaked its way up the sleeve of her blouse, at the same time that his thumb began caressing the surface of her arm in a wax-on, wax-off motion that was driving her crazy.
Her breaths became short and shallow. Her eyes glossed over, and she had to close them to even begin to regain her composure.
All at once, she had to really concentrate to remember what she'd even been talking about.
His touch had bewitched her, intoxicated her.
Hannah knew full well that he was diverting her attention, and a large part of her didn't even care. A large part of her wanted just as much as he was willing to give.
Somehow though, she managed to steady her heartbeats and salvage her sense of self-control just in time to return to the task at hand.
From somewhere, she found her voice. "Alexander, I know what you're doing. I'm not stupid."
"I know you're not."
"Well, then, answer my question. How is it that you managed to disappear?"
An immediate hardness fell across his face at the same time as his touch abandoned her.
"I think you need to have your eyes checked."
"No," she challenged, "I don't. I think there's something you're not telling me. Something you don't want me to know."
"I think there are many things about yourself that you haven't told me," he countered.
Mr. Wainwright interrupted them both.
Apparently, there was a classroom discussion going on.
"And what do you think, Alexander, of Don Quixote's view of chivalry?"
The Russian responded effortlessly without even the slightest hesitation, all while keeping his eyes locked directly on Hannah.
"I think, Mr. Wainwright, he views chivalry as noble and worth attempting, but nevertheless futile. I mean, virtually every gallant act he attempts ends up messed up in one way or another."
Wainwright nodded while stroking his goatee. "Excellent point, Mr. Stastny. And what does this tell us about mankind in general?"
"Man is weak," he said thoughtfully, finally letting his gaze drift away from her and toward the instructor, "despite ongoing attempts to counter against it."
It was as if the two were having a private conversation.
Alexander even acted as if he was enjoying it, and Mr. Wainwright was clearly in his element.
Hannah rolled her eyes at Eliza, who sent back a look that said, "You little devil."
Crap, had she seen them touching?
After Alexander and Mr. Wainwright had gone on like this for way longer than anyone wanted, the bell signaled relief.
"See ya later," Hannah said rather aloofly to Mr. Chivalry as she passed him on her way out of class. He was still in a deep discussion with Mr. Wainwright, both of them steeped in the lore of Spanish literature.
Teacher's pet, thought Hannah.
It was only a few minutes before Alexander caught up with her at her locker.
"My, my," she folded her arms, "I didn't know you were a literature expert."
"Well, as you admitted, there are lots of things you don't know about me."
Hannah slammed her locker shut. "I'm serious Alexander. I saw you disappear yesterday. Right in front of me. Don't try to deny it."
He gave her a steely look, as if deliberately drawing out the tension just to piss her off.
"Well?" she said impatiently.
"Who said I'm trying to deny it?" he replied, abruptly turning and walking away.
CHAPTER 17—DREAMS
Alexander was standing some twenty feet in front of her. Shiny dress shoes peeked out from his freshly-pressed trousers, topped by a black tuxedo jacket exquisitely fitted to his broad shoulders and trim waist. His shirt and bowtie were ivory, a color perfectly accentuating his olive complexion. His hair—worn longer than she'd ever seen—was slicked back and away from his forehead, and the beginnings of a beard peppered his chin.
Countless shadows—mirrored silhouettes without faces—stood behind him in military formation as soldiers ready for battle.
He walked toward her.
It was definitely Alexander, but he looked older, more refined.
However, the blistering way he stared at her was innately familiar. And just the thrill of him coming nearer was overwhelming. Overpowering.
He smiled at her.
Something though, was off—almost like out of tune music. But no matter how hard Hannah tried, she couldn't exactly pinpoint what it was.
He reached for her.
She hesitated.
Not another living soul was in sight. It was as if they were the only two people in the world.
She took his hand. But it wasn't without a nagging sense of trepidation.
They were in the school parking lot—where they'd met. It was empty and had been covered in blacktop, and scattered around its perimeter were huge candelabras ablaze with candlelight.
The moon appeared above the tops of the trees surrounding them, inching its way upward in nighttime's crescendo.
Alexander took her in his arms.
Pachelbel's Canon in D played in the background. He guided her expertly to its tempo.
Bronze eye shadow framed Hannah's lashes, and a strapless gown of pearl-colored satin floated seamlessly around her figure, gently arcing off the ground in an occasional pirouette. Teardrop earrings dangled just above her shoulders, vertical collages of diamonds that sparkled in the same way sunlight ripples across the surface of a lake. A thin wrap of fox fur draped loosely across her arms.
She felt like a queen. Floating. Dancing. Drifting.
But then suddenly Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata began.
Alexander pressed her to him. Hard. A sharp, abrupt turn brought their faces so close they were almost touching.
Flames swirled in his eyes.
His roughness made her gasp, yet it also heightened her desire. She absorbed him with her gaze and studied his every feature intently as if she were seeing him for the first time.
Her eyes narrowed and lips creased as she noticed things she'd never noticed before.
Small horns protruded from his skull.
As his body moved ever closer, she felt his hot breath on her cheeks and forehead.
He whispered something in her ear, and she found herself nibbling at her own bottom lip.
After what seemed like eternity, his mouth met hers in a gentle caress that quickly escalated into a heated exchange of want and need. Hannah's eyes shuttered as Alexander weaved his arms around her neck, his hands gathering the back of her head and pulling it into him.
She'd never imagined a kiss like this…
And for only a moment, a vision of the past came to light. She thought of Boone and the time they'd spent together, the kisses they'd shared.
Everything with him was so different. And the experiences she'd had with him felt as if they'd happened in another lifetime. Almost to another person.
Then, the memory unexpectedly changed.
Boone had suddenly appeared next to her and was gripping her arm. Worry and angst had shaded his face, and he was telling her something…
Get away, he'd said, before it's too late.
Get away from what?
Hannah couldn't understand him. She kept pressing him to explain himself, but he wouldn't.
Or maybe he couldn't.
His words were fuzzy now, and he was fading away from her sight.
And then, almost as quickly as it had appeared, the vision vanished.
Boone was gone.
Hannah shivered in Alexander's arms.
And as their bodies melded together—now in urgent rhythm to the music—an almost unbearable heat began to envelope her.
Sweat erupted from every cell of her body.
Bubbles of blisters formed on her arms.
She tried to push away from him, but he wouldn't let her go.
And then all at once, panic surfaced.
She buttoned her eyes and clawed and scratched at him, but it was no use.
She was trapped.
She opened her eyes and saw Alexander's face being consumed by flames. And within seconds, the fire had spread downwards to where it began to consume his entire being. His skin began oozing and dripping everywhere around her, the ground beneath them sizzling like raw meat on a barbeque.
