Unwilling, Al had to laugh too. He’d been in that position a few times himself. “Get around a lot, do you?”
Wickie shook his head, still chuckling. “I get my share,” he said. “I don’t have to worry about cold nights much.”
Remembering Rimae, Al was willing to bet on it. Wickie didn’t seem disposed to name names or expound on his conquests, though, which upped him a notch in Al’s esteem. While he wouldn’t mind comparing notes over a few beers, still, he had to give the guy credit for discretion.
As for Janna, well, it didn’t exactly solve the problem, but it narrowed it down a little. Janna must be linked to someone else in Snow Owl. Which meant he’d have to have a long talk with Ziggy.
He stood up, twirling the chair back into place. “Anything I can get you? Other than ‘companionship,’ that is?”
“Crossword puzzle, maybe?”
Al had learned long ago not to be surprised at Visitors. "Sure, we can get you crossword puzzles. As many as you want.” He was glad Wickie hadn’t asked why Al wanted to know; it would be just one more thing the Visitor would have to forget when he returned to his own time and self.
He left quickly, aware of the Visitor watching him as the door slid away for him and back again, shutting Wickie away from the rest of the Project. His path took him back through the Control Room again, past it and into the administrative office corridor, past Sam’s “upper-level” office and back to his own again.
He scanned it quickly. Nothing was different, as far as he could tell. The same plaques and citations on the walls, the same gleaming desktop, the same stack of papers in the In and Out baskets.
Well, maybe the In basket was a little closer to overflowing than the last time he’d been in here, but that was to be expected.
He pulled the office door shut and sat down at the desk. “Ziggy?” he said to the ceiling.
“About time,” the computer replied promptly, annoyance in its voice. “I thought you were going to ignore me completely.”
“Like I could,” Al muttered sarcastically. “Give me a status report, please.”
“Unchanged.”
The wave of relief that swept over him was almost too intense to bear. “Thank you,” he whispered.
“You’re welcome,” Ziggy answered.
“I wasn’t talking to you.”
“Well! You don’t have to be rude.”
This, coming from Ziggy, was almost enough to make Al laugh again.
“Glad you’re amused,” the computer remarked acidly.
Al shook his head, still smiling. “Okay, Ziggy. It’s just. . . nervous reaction.
“We need to know how Janna’s tied in to this Leap.”
“Why don’t you ask her?”
Al opened his mouth to make a cutting response, and closed it again, slowly. Finally he said, “I’d have to tell her why.”
“I could summarize it for you.”
“No. No, I don’t want to ask her, and I don’t want to explain.” He could see himself explaining to her, I’m only temporarily married to you, honey, we’ve got to enjoy this while we can .... Come to think of it, he could have used that line in several of his marriages, if he’d only known.
“Just do the data search, okay? And don’t ask Janna anything. I don’t want her to know.”
Some hours later, Al looked around the bedroom, checking the details against the new memories. Same woven cotton bedspread, same maple rocking chair on a rag rug in the corner, same pillowcases with a green foil-wrapped mint set squarely in the center of each one. Mints on the pillow. It was a private joke between them. It always made him smile. She’d never admit she put them there; must be some genie from a brass lamp who came up with them, she always said.
Folded neatly at the bottom of the bed was an old-fashioned quilt. Janna liked the country look. It was utterly alien to Al, who’d spent most of his life in the Navy and the rest of it roaming, but comforting somehow. It was Janna, and that made it home.
“Ziggy?” he said quietly.
The computer, triggered by the sound of its name, responded, “Monitoring, Admiral.”
“Search for a link between”—he swallowed, unable to believe for a moment in any past, much less one as stable as this appeared to be—“between Janna and all the people Sam’s dealing with on the current Leap. Trace the events that led to—” he took a deep breath—“this.”
“Acknowledging, Admiral.”
He heard the door slide open, heard her footsteps. “Don’t monitor these quarters. Send a summary to the terminal in my office under secure lock.”
“Yes, Admiral.” He could hear the “click” that was Ziggy’s signal that it had turned its monitors off, and at the same time heard Janna come in from the living room.
He turned to welcome her with open arms. She greeted him with a smile and a kiss, stepping into his arms as if she always did that, as if she belonged there.
“Hello, baby,” he whispered into her hair. “Missed you.”
“Well, I missed you too,” she said, nuzzling him back, “but I didn’t think you’d been gone that long. Al, you’re breaking my ribs! Is everything okay?”
“So far.” He could have bitten his tongue off. He didn’t want to interrupt the moment. Reluctantly, he loosened his embrace.
“Al?” She pulled away, looking him in the eye. “What is it?”
“It’s nothing. Nothing.”
“Albert Calavicci, don’t you try to lie to me. Something’s wrong, isn’t it? Is it Sam? Has something happened?”
“No. Nothing’s happened to Sam. He’s fine. He’s got to keep a kid from going to a party, that’s all, and then he’ll Leap again.”
But he couldn’t meet her eyes, even when she took his face between her hands and gently held it, mere inches from her own. “Then why are you so knotted up inside, honey?”
He tried to smile and couldn’t. “I’m sorry, sweetheart, I can’t talk about it. I can’t."
He couldn’t. He couldn’t make himself talk to her. If he asked
