Mine Tomorrow Read online

  She could make out an older man bent over a work bench located where the counter containing the cash register was set in Yesterday’s Closet. The man glanced up and then smiled broadly when he caught sight of her. Before she and Gregory moved out of view, he was on his feet, waving Devin inside.

  “I think he wants to see you,” Gregory said. His tone was teasing when he asked, “Should I be jealous?”

  “I don’t think so,” she told him on a laugh, but she was curious. And, just as suddenly, she was nervous.

  “Mrs. Prescott!” the man enthused as they walked through the shop’s door amid a clanging of bells. “It’s so good to see you again.”

  While he obviously knew her, Devin was at a loss for his name. She offered a polite smile and decided to go with half of an introduction, hoping that he would fill in the rest.

  “Hello. This is my…my husband, Gregory Prescott.” The way she’d stumbled over her relationship to Gregory had both men frowning. Those nerves she’d felt kicked into high gear and she rushed ahead. “He’s just arrived home from the war.”

  “Ah, Mr. Prescott! Welcome home! Welcome home!” The older man enthusiastically pumped Gregory’s hand in greeting. “It’s a pleasure to see you are home safe and sound. I’m Sal, Sal Weinstein.”

  “Mr. Weinstein.” He nodded. “Thank you and the same.”

  “You were stationed in the Pacific Theater, if I recall correctly.” At Gregory’s questioning expression, Sal said, “Mrs. Prescott mentioned it to me. She was very worried about you.”

  Gregory nodded. “I was aboard the USS Bunker Hill.”

  Sal gasped. “Then I’d say she had good reason to be concerned. You lost a lot of your crew in the May 11th kamikaze attack.”

  Kamikaze attack? Her ears pricked at the mention and dread began to pool in her stomach. Gregory had referenced an attack when they were in Times Square. Her dread intensified when he told Sal now, “Three hundred and seventy-two died that day and another two-hundred and sixty-four were wounded, all thanks to a couple of Japanese pilots with a death wish.”

  Dear Mrs. Prescott, we regret to inform you…

  The writing on the yellow paper faded from her mind before she could read all of it. The unease she felt remained.

  “That’s a lot of casualties,” Sal was saying. “I’m just glad you weren’t one of them. It’s a relief that this horrible war is finally over and our troops are returning stateside.”

  “A relief,” Gregory agreed. “I was eager to get back to my bride.”

  “Perfectly understandable.” Sal turned his attention to her then. “I was wondering if you’d forgotten about me.”

  “I…I…” Devin sputtered.

  The older man grinned, causing wrinkles to crease his cheeks from the corners of his eyes down to his jowls. “I flatter myself. It’s your watch I think you forgot about.”

  “My watch?”

  “Yes. You came in—oh, it’s been a few months at least—to have it repaired. The face was broken. You asked me to replace the glass. I’m sorry to say that not long after you left it with me, it stopped working all together. It was the darnedest thing, too. I’ve taken it apart twice, but I can’t figure out the cause. Everything seems to be in order.”

  “That is odd.”

  He went behind the counter and pulled out a velvet-lined box. “It’s such an exquisite piece,” he murmured.

  Indeed. In real life, Devin owned a no-frills, elastic-banded faux-gold watch. It was mass-produced and had cost her all of twenty bucks at the corner drug store. This piece was sterling silver and much more ornate, with small diamonds embedded at the twelve, three, six and nine. Its quality was evident, as was the fact that it was older than the mid-twentieth century. Devin was no expert, but she would have guessed early twentieth, perhaps even late nineteenth.

  A slight movement caught her eye.

  “You said it’s not working?”

  “That’s right. It stopped a couple of days after you dropped it off.”

  “Well, it appears to be working now.” She picked up the watch and held it to her ear. It was ticking all right. The sound was in synch with her heartbeat.

  “You don’t say.” Sal pulled the glasses that were perched on his head down for a closer look. “I haven’t checked on it for…oh, I guess it’s been a month now, but the last time I did, the hands were frozen at a quarter past nine.”

  Nine-fifteen. Hadn’t it been around that time that Devin had been unpacking the boxes in her store and trying on the coat? A watch had been in the pocket. Her fingers had brushed against its cool surface. Then she’d pulled it out and…

  Was this the watch? She’d only gotten a brief glimpse of it before the light had blinded her, but it appeared to be. If this were anything but a dream, Devin would have found the coincidence unsettling.

  “Well, not only is it working,” Gregory began. “The time is correct.”

  He pointed to the clock on the far wall. It was ten minutes to three now and the watch face showed the same. It felt as if hours had passed since she’d put on the coat and found herself here, but had they, really?

  “May I?” Gregory took the watch and nodded toward her wrist.

  When she lifted it, he fastened the watch around it. The piece fit perfectly and its weight was oddly reassuring.

  “How much do I owe you for the repair?” he asked Sal, reaching into his pocket for his wallet.

  The other man looked perplexed.

  “I…I…” His gaze swung to Devin then. “Have you changed your mind about selling it, Mrs. Prescott?”

  Chapter Seven

  Devin seemed genuinely surprised to learn that she had been planning to pawn the antique timepiece, which had been Gregory’s grandmother’s. Well, that made two of them. Maybe he shouldn’t have been. Even during a war, when people had tightened their belts, a quality custom piece such as this one would fetch a tidy sum.

  And she would have needed money if she had been leaving him. The mere thought was a painful kick in the gut, but he was unable to banish it.

  During their separation, he’d received dozens of letters from her, but all of those had come during the first few months. After May, he had received no correspondence, nothing at all to let him know that she was all right. Nor was there any word to reassure him that she was awaiting his return as eagerly as he was.

  At first, Gregory assumed it was because he’d been transferred to another ship after the attack on the Bunker Hill. With that air craft carrier crippled and sent limping back to the United States for repairs, he’d been hastily reassigned to a destroyer until last week when his discharge papers had come through.

  He’d tried contacting Devin with no success. Yesterday, when Gregory had returned to New York, he’d rushed to their apartment in a panic. He’d found all of her clothes and effects inside, but no sign of her. Dan, the doorman, had been as baffled as Gregory as to her whereabouts. He’d handed Gregory a stack of newspapers and mail that had gone uncollected. Mail that included Gregory’s letters.

  “I saw her leave one day last spring—it must have been May—and she never came back, Mr. Prescott. No forwarding address, no nothin’. She didn’t take any luggage, but I thought maybe she’d gone to stay with family while you were away.”

  Her sister, he wondered now, but at the time he’d asked the doorman, “You didn’t think to contact the police and report her missing?”

  “The rent on the apartment was paid up, so no…” The other man had shrugged apologetically.

  At that point, Gregory hadn’t worried that Devin had left him; he’d worried that something had happened to her. Something horrible. Something finite. Something foretold in those unsettling dreams of which she’d spoken.

  What if something keeps us apart? Something that neither of us has the ability to control?

  When he’d heard about the celebration going on in Times Square, he’d taken a cab there, hoping beyond hope that she might be in the crowd. He’d scanned c
ountless faces before he’d spied her. When she’d smiled at him and had raised her hand, it had been all Gregory could do to remain upright. His relief had been so great that his knees had threatened to buckle.

  She was there. She was all right. At the time, that had been all that mattered.

  For the past several hours, he’d put off asking the questions that begged to be answered. But now, with this latest revelation about the watch, he needed to know.

  Outside the repair shop, he stopped her on the sidewalk before she could enter the café.

  “Devin, I need to know something. Why were you in Times Square today? What made you come there?”

  She frowned. It wasn’t guilt that he witnessed in her expression, but confusion. Gregory took a small amount of comfort in that.

  “I’m not sure.”

  “You’re not sure?” he pressed.

  “I know how that must sound to you.” She shook her head. “I know how it sounds to me. Crazy.”

  As crazy as her wearing a wool overcoat in August? As crazy as her not knowing the war had officially ended when everyone else around her had taken to the streets to celebrate that fact?

  Something was wrong, off in a way that he couldn’t determine.

  “Devin—”

  “Does…does it matter?” she asked, reaching out to grip his hand. “I’m here now, Gregory. How I came to be standing in the square or standing on this sidewalk…Does it really matter?”

  That was what he was trying to decide. He ran a hand over the back of his neck.

  “Why were you going to sell the watch?”

  After making that claim, Sal had explained that when he’d called Devin to tell her the watch was ready, she’d inquired about selling it.

  But now, she was shaking her head in denial as she ran her fingers over the band. She sounded as perplexed as he was when she replied, “Why would I sell this? It’s…it’s so beautiful. So special.”

  “It is special. My grandfather gave my grandmother this for their first wedding anniversary.”

  “And you gave it to me…on our wedding day.”

  He nodded.

  Her eyes widened. “You had it inscribed.”

  Gregory nodded again before unclasping the silver-link band and taking it from her wrist. When he turned it over, she leaned in close. He could feel her breath on his cheek as they read what he had paid a jeweler to etch on the back.

  To Devin from Gregory. Forever in my heart.

  She pressed the back of one hand to her mouth and her eyes filled with tears.

  “Devin, I know everything wasn’t perfect before I had to ship out,” he began. “You were worried. And then when the Bunker Hill was attacked, well, I can only imagine how scared you must have been upon hearing the news reports. So many men died that day.”

  “No!” The word exploded from her and she gave her head a vehement shake.

  “Devin?”

  In a more moderate tone, she said, “Sal must have misunderstood. Or perhaps he has me confused with someone else.”

  “So, you weren’t selling the watch?”

  She took the piece from his hand and traced a fingertip slowly over the words that had come from his heart. Her voice was steady, her tone absolute when she said, “I wouldn’t have sold this, Gregory. The woman you see standing before you right this very minute would not have sold this. I treasure this piece. And I love you.”

  He wanted to believe her. He wanted to live in the present and put the past behind them, along with any lingering doubts and unhappiness, but that was no way to start their life together. They had rushed into marriage, and as such skipped some of the important steps that most couples went through during a more lengthy courtship. Honesty. Trust. How solid would their marriage be if its foundation lacked either of those important attributes?

  “Devin, I know the woman standing before me right now treasures this watch and wouldn’t have sold it. But before I shipped out, well, we didn’t have a lot of time together. Your worst fear was that something bad was going to happen. So naturally when my ship was attacked—”

  “You think I changed my mind about being your wife?”

  “Not intentionally.” He had to believe that whatever had transpired back in May hadn’t been premeditated on her part. “But when you heard about the Bunker Hill and the number of casualties, well…as it was, you were afraid.”

  That caught her attention. “Yes! I was afraid. Terrified that…that…” Her eyes pinched closed briefly. “I thought something bad was going to happen.”

  She pressed one hand to her heart. Her breath was coming out in short bursts, almost as if she were reliving the memory in question. He took her by the shoulders and gave her a gentle shake.

  “Stop, Devin. Stop! As you can see, I survived. I promised to return to you, and I have. In one piece.”

  So many of his shipmates on the Bunker Hill had not. Their faces, their fates, everything about that day haunted him. But now that Gregory was back stateside, he was determined to celebrate life, rather than live it feeling guilty that it was but a fluke that he wasn’t among the fallen. He wasn’t where he normally would have been when the first kamikaze pilot crashed onto the ship as it cruised the waters off the coast of Kyushu, Japan.

  If he had been…

  As he had dozens of times before, Gregory shook off the thought. To drive home the point for both of them, he told her, “I’m here now, Devin, and I’m not going anywhere.”

  Her gaze clouded and a deep groove of consternation formed between her brows.

  “What if…what if it wasn’t you? What if something…something bad happened to me?”

  She said the words slowly in a voice so low that Gregory was forced to lean closer to catch the words, and even then he wasn’t sure he’d heard her correctly.

  “Devin? What do you—”

  Before he could finish, however, her eyes rolled backward and she fainted.

  Chapter Eight

  Gregory gathered Devin close before she could slump to the hard pavement. They went down together with him cradling her in his arms. Calling her name, he tried to rouse her by patting one of her clammy cheeks. Her eyelids flickered a few times before they stayed open. Even then her gaze appeared out of focus.

  “Wh-what happened?” she asked in a breathy whisper.

  “You fainted.”

  “Gregory?” She blinked as if just seeing him. She sounded incredulous.

  “It’s me. I’m right here.” He forced a smile.

  “Yes…yes you are.” She glanced around before her gaze connected with his again. “Or maybe it’s more precise to say that I’m still here.”

  He wasn’t sure how to gauge the accuracy of her statement. Devin wasn’t making much sense, but he nodded anyway and helped her to her feet.

  Her complexion was a pasty white and her skin remained clammy to his touch.

  “How are you feeling?”

  “Like I’m in 1945.”

  She definitely was not making sense. “I think we’d better get you out of the heat. Maybe I should take you to the hospital for a checkup.”

  But she shook her head. “No. I’m fine. I’m just…I’m just hungry, and I could use a glass of water.”

  They were mere feet from the diner’s entrance, but he hesitated. “Are you sure?”

  “I’m positive.” The corners of her mouth lifted in a poor facsimile of a smile and she said, “I’m feeling better already.”

  Given how pale she still was, that seemed a stretch, but he nodded.

  “All right, but if your color doesn’t come back within the next few minutes, I’m taking you to the hospital, even if I have to carry you into the emergency room kicking and screaming.”

  “That won’t be necessary, I promise,” she said dryly. Then she threw him for a loop. “I…I need you to do something for me, Gregory.”

  “All right,” he agreed warily. “What is it?”

  Instead of spilling it, however, she hesitated. �
�This favor…It’s a lot to ask.”

  That had his curiosity good and piqued. “How about if you let me be the judge?”

  She took a deep breath, exhaled slowly and began. “I know you have questions about what happened to me while you were gone.”

  He glanced at the watch. Indeed he did.

  “Can you wait to ask them?”

  “Devin—”

  “Just for today,” she added quickly and reached for his hands.

  “We need to talk. Whatever happened, I’ll understand.” And he would, Gregory thought. He had to. He wasn’t going to lose her again.

  “I know. But just for today, can we…can we turn back time and pretend that we’ve just met.”

  As tempting as that was, he felt the need to point out, “Whatever is wrong between us, it won’t go away on its own. We need to work it out, exorcise those fears of yours.”

  Gregory knew that for a fact. Seeing her again, spending time with her, making love to her—all of it was wonderful, but temporary, too, if she didn’t trust him, if she didn’t have faith in their love to prevail. Still, he was willing to stave off the inevitable for a little longer.

  “So, we’ve just met?” he asked.

  She exhaled slowly. “Yes.”

  “Which would make this our first date?”

  The corners of her mouth tipped up. “That’s right.”

  “For the record, if this were our first date, I would be taking you someplace a lot fancier than this diner.”

  “Such as Murzel’s?”

  “I was thinking of Hoffman’s on Forty-Ninth, and not for a late lunch, but for dinner and dancing. The works.”

  “Hoffman’s! I know that place!” she said excitedly. Some of the color had come back into her cheeks.

  He laughed in surprise. “You should. It’s where we ate after our wedding. You said it was the perfect place to celebrate an important occasion.”

  Her smile turned overly bright. “And it’s still there. I took Emily for Sunday brunch when she got accepted to New York University.”

  “I should hope it’s still there. It only opened a couple years ago.”