Silent Echoes Part 33

"Which is very unlike me. Anyway ..." She patted his cheek. "I ... experienced another time. It happens each time. Sometimes with a kiss. Sometimes all the way. It's ... amazing, Ian. I'm here, yet I'm there and in both ... I-"

As their speed decreased, Taylor realized they needed to dress.

Fast.

She pushed up, but Ian held her down.

"You ... what?"

"We're about to surprise our pilot."

"Enh." His shoulder b.u.mped into her armpit. "That's not what you were going to say. What was it?"

"You want him to see your dangly bits?"

The grin coupled with a laugh brought her own chuckle. "Trust me. It's not dangling."

a a a "I can't believe you let him open that door. Why? Why? Why? Why? Why?" Taylor slid out of the car and stepped onto the sidewalk toward the path up to her house.

"Enh." Ian shrugged for the umpteenth time.

"You said that on the plane, Ian. And, I have asked repeatedly. Are you a s.e.xual show-off? Do I need to worry what might end up on the Internet?"

"Enh." He held open the front door but grabbed her arm as she tried to pa.s.s. With one quick pull against him, he laid his lips along hers.

Taylor's body melded against him. "What was that for?" she asked when he released her.

"Enh."

"Great. Now he's a caveman." The sarcasm in her voice mixed with giddiness as she strolled into her house to the smells of the raspberry potpourri she kept stashed in each room, to familiarity, to normalcy. A flick of the interior switch illuminated the room. "Home, sweet, home." She dropped her keys in their bowl, breathing a sigh as a smile took hold of her lips. "Would you like something to eat?"

"What, the peanuts and half a can of c.o.ke on the plane weren't enough?" The front door closed. Ian's footsteps echoed through with a cadence and weight she'd come to recognize. "This is ... uh ... country." He chuckled as he took a seat on a bar stool.

She a.s.sumed he referred to the denim-patterned walls with white accents, the hanging pots and her collection of ceramic teapots, rather than the stainless steel, marble countertops or the empty fridge."We didn't have peanuts-"

The look Ian sent her said *duh' without words. "Tell me what you were going to say on the plane."

A s.h.i.+ver started in her spine but she banked it, forcing herself still. "Um ... so, I don't do a lot of cooking." Taylor spun to her cabinets, withdrew a box of cereal and set it on the counter. "Cheerios?"

"So, you're going to just ignore me?" Ian took the box. "You do know this has a best when used by date, right?"

"Of course." She laid her hands on the countertop, but grabbed the pile of mail she'd set on the edge and rifled through. She'd managed to ignore it all through the week, not realizing how much she'd acquired.

"And, this expired about three months ago." He chuckled.

"Well, shoot." Taylor s.h.i.+fted toward her clock. "And, it's eleven already. I don't think anything but one or two fast food joints might be open. Or the grocery store."

Ian stood and walked around the counter where Taylor separated bills from junk and coupons from personal stuff. He ran his hands down her arms. "You said your lives are mixing."

Taylor eyed the mail again. "Hey, check this out." She waved an envelope at Ian.

He lifted her chin. "What were you going to say?"

With a sigh, she said, "I was going to say I was in love with you. In that life. I was. And, I feel ... I feel ..."

"You feel it now." He ran his hand behind her head and drew her closer. "Just like all those little things I can't know about you but do. Like how you love the smell of lavender, but not sage. How you cut your finger on the fence while pretending to bark orders so you could watch me at work."

She jerked back.

He held her in place. "I don't know how I know these things. I just do. But, if you loved me ... if I loved you ... why would I kill you? Why wouldn't I want to savor every inch of you?"

"I don't know. Oh!" Her lids went wide.

"What?"

"What if ..." She slipped out of his hold and paced across the kitchen floor and back. "What if you did it because I asked you? What if it was a Romeo and Juliet thing, and seriously, we were waiting until the times were right?" She wagged a finger in the air. "What if it was our own plan to get to number four?" Taylor reached Ian and laid her palms against his cheeks. "What if we did it, on purpose, and now we're here, and we know, and the world isn't going to separate us?"

"Like h.e.l.l it will."

She smiled up at him. "This is awesome, Ian! This has to be it. There's no way I would hurt you, and no way you would hurt me, so this had to be our plan." Taylor wrapped her arms around him as his hands slid to her lower back. "This has to be it!" She giggled as if the answer had always been there. "I love you!"

Ian stiffened.

Taylor forced herself to calm and angled her head until their gazes met. "I love you, Ian. I've never met a man like you, and I've never had feelings like these. From everywhere. From all over. I'm-we're-"

"Connected." He dipped down and pressed his lips against hers. "I've never told anyone I love them, Taylor, but I don't want to screw this up."

"You don't think my theory is right."

He shook his head. "Not in my gut. Not like those feelings I get about you. Yes, I-"

She patted his cheek. "It's okay. We southern girls like to love. I think it'll hit ya soon enough." With that, she grabbed the mail that had fallen to the counter. "Oh! Look. It's from Sherrill."

Ian leaned forward, and Taylor shook the envelope in front of him. *Photos-Do not bend.' had been stamped on both sides.

"Think she sent us copies?" Ian asked.

Taylor pulled out a knife to slide through the tape. An inner envelope slid from within the cardboard packaging. A quick rip opened the first, and a sticky note and two photos slid to the marble surface.

Ian picked up one while Taylor took the other. "This is the one she showed us," he said.

"This isn't." Taylor waved the second one with a sticky note attached to it, too. "Dear Taylor, I found this one as I was scouring another box. Sorry that I didn't have it at the time you were here. Thought you might like it. All copies of course, no harm done if you destroy them. Sherrill." Taylor pulled the note off and dropped it in the trash. "Oh. My. G.o.d." Her hand flew to her chest as the photo fell to the counter.

Ian s.n.a.t.c.hed up the image.

She shook her head. This isn't possible.

The photo tilted left and right in Ian's hand, like he studied it. "What do you see that I don't see?" he asked.

"What do you see?" Her hand shook.

He angled it to the left. "I see another of the supposed you and supposed me. I see a barn. I see cows. You're talking to someone." He pulled the photo in closer. "I'm not getting your reaction."

She took it back and stared at it. Barn-the one we made love in our last time. Ian. Me. Cows. Check. The same old, faded, black and white reflected back at her-the same as the original Sherrill had provided. "That face. Here." She pointed to the one her *supposed self', as Ian called them, seemed to be talking to.

"What about it?"

"That looks like ... Tanner."

Ian ripped it from her hands again. "No, it doesn't."

"You've seen him?"

"Of course. We had them send us his mug shot from Alabama when he was finally booked, and the photo from the identification at the morgue. They matched."

Taylor's shoulders relaxed. "Okay." Not really. "I'm probably just tired. Seeing things. Or really confused." She didn't believe herself.

"That's to be expected with all the travel. Don't worry about it. I will, though, send it up to Michael and get his team to look into it."

She leaned into him. "Thank you. What would I do without you?" Again.

Ian chuckled. "I know some things you wouldn't have done." He gave her a wink along with a kiss.

Taylor b.u.mped her hip against his as her stomach grumbled. "How about food?"

"I know who we can bug." Ian tucked the photo back into the envelope.

Taylor waved both arms in front of her. "Oh, no. I'm not about to go to Tripp and Lexi's at this hour-"

"No, not them. Tripp would fry me over coals he lights and flames himself. So, not him. Emma owes me a few, and she's a really good cook."

"What is between you two?" Taylor asked as she grabbed her keys, preparing to go.

"Nothing romantic, if that's what you're worried about." He raised an eyebrow.

Taylor wanted to ask more but she valued privacy. She'd just have to trust him. "What about the grocery store? It's open twenty-four-" At Ian's glare, Taylor stopped. "Okay. Emma's. Least you can do is let me put on some clean clothes. I've been in these all day."

Ian nodded, and Taylor forced herself not to race to her bedroom-the one s.p.a.ce in her home where she'd added girly touches.

The baby blue walls accented with taupe trim and her white four-poster bed called to her. She ignored them and went to her dresser, pulled out clean jeans, a T-s.h.i.+rt and fresh underwear. "Commando?" She weighed the panties and bra in one hand before she stuffed them back in their drawer. She might have been somewhat demure in her previous life, but with Ian, she'd never experienced more pleasure and wanted to prove to him that love would conquer all.

The mirror in the bathroom showed bags under her eyes, mussed hair-the dregs of fatigue and a body ravaged by what the doctors had termed "an unidentifiable virus." Taylor called it living-through-multiple-lives-and-dying-three-times. Just the thought brought her mind back to the photo in her kitchen.

She stared at herself. "That was Tanner. Wasn't it?" Her shoulders dropped. "No. Stupid-head. You're just tired."

27.

Ian stalked toward the front of Emma's white, clapboard, single-story house on the edge of town, despite the lack of light, no car in the driveway and no sign of life.

"Shouldn't we call her or ... maybe just forget it? She's obviously not here," Taylor said. "Or, she's in bed. Sleeping. Like normal people."

"Which is all the more reason to break in and pilfer through her fridge."

Taylor grabbed his arm. "They told me you were the good guy. That you didn't do all the bad stuff. I'm all about the southern hospitality, Ian, but this is a bit much."

He squished up his lips and jiggled the keys. "I promise, I have permission. You'll just have to trust me."

Taylor stopped him again. "What if she's sleeping, and her car's in the shop? Aren't you going to surprise her?"

The curve of his lips moved into his every essence. "All the better. I owe her still, despite my saying she owes me."

"But-"

"Taylor, seriously. Calm down. You don't know Emma the way I do. I spent almost two weeks with her babysitting Lexi eons ago. We learned a lot about each other, such as, one-" He held up his finger. "-she's a night owl and loves to party. Two, she loves a practical joke. Three-" Ian held up another finger but didn't go on. "I don't know if there is a third. But this is not a B and E job. I have a key and the alarm code-which she never uses."

"Fine, fine."

With Taylor at Ian's side, they entered to a silent and dark house.

Ian flipped on the light as he called, "Emma, you home?" but received no response. "Like I said, she's a night owl. C'mon." He took Taylor's hand and dragged her toward the kitchen, flipping switches as he pa.s.sed through.

"Wow," Taylor said.

"What?"

"This kitchen is made for a chef. And, you said she's in real estate?"

"Yup." Ian pulled open the cool side of the side-by-side refrigerator. "Have a seat at the bar, milady, and I shall serve you."

Taylor froze. "You used to call me that."

"Call you what?" Container after container, he brought them out-each one labeled with a date and contents-followed by a bottle of wine and placed them all on the blue, granite countertop.

Taylor took the closest seat to the door. "Milady ... you used to call me Milady."

Ian eyed her as he opened containers, extracted servings and popped them into the microwave. "Maybe that's because you were-are-were-" He forced himself calm. "Dammit, that was a trap wasn't it?"

Taylor laughed, filling the s.p.a.ce around them. "No, not a trap at all. Mama doesn't think I'm much of a lady, either."

Ian stayed mute as he opened containers, exposing lasagne, barbeque and mixed greens, and popped some into the microwave to warm up. He poured Merlot into two of Emma's champagne flutes and took a seat on the red leather barstool next to Taylor, downing the serving of wine he'd given himself.