Read Online The Time Travel Chronicles by Robert J. Sawyer, Stefan Bolz, Ann Christy, Samuel Peralta, Rysa Walker, Lucas Bale, Anthony Vicino, Ernie Lindsey, Carol Davis, Tracy Banghart, Michael Holden, Daniel Arthur Smith, Ernie Luis, Erik Wecks - Free Book Online
Authors: Robert J. Sawyer, Stefan Bolz, Ann Christy, Samuel Peralta, Rysa Walker, Lucas Bale, Anthony Vicino, Ernie Lindsey, Carol Davis, Tracy Banghart, Michael Holden, Daniel Arthur Smith, Ernie Luis, Erik Wecks
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study. For better or worse, religious history is chock full of pious women clamoring for someone's rights, occasionally even for their own. And she’s young enough that manipulating her will be a breeze.
“In case I didn’t say it earlier, Quaker garb suits thee."
“Thanks.”
I purposefully wait until the pink begins fading away from her pale skin to speak again. "Plain dress is a very difficult look to pull off, you know. If there’s the slightest hint of drab in a woman’s face, it tips the scales toward totally plain. No risk of that in your case."
As expected, the compliment summons the blood right back to her cheeks.
I need to tread carefully, though. Angelo very nearly saddled me with Delia Morell as a third party. I don’t have much use for Delia or her husband. Even though they're only a few years my senior, they've gradually wormed their way into CHRONOS middle-management, mostly by sucking up to Angelo. The two times I've landed a reprimand, it's been Delia’s fault. I talked my way out of anything actually sticking to my record, but I'm smart enough to steer clear of them.
Angelo didn’t even have a decent excuse when I asked exactly why he’d assign Delia, a mid-twentieth century specialist, to a Quaker village in 1780. He just did that weak, wavy thing with his hands and changed the subject. But he pulled her from the jump schedule, so I win.
I know why he wanted Delia along. Angelo knows our fields of research make his little blonde lamb my inevitable research partner, but he’s not sure she can handle the big bad wolf. Maybe he realizes the lamb is attracted to me. I’ve known it since the first time I saw her a few years back, fourteen and not even out of Fundamentals. Even that goofy kid who follows her everywhere—Richard, Robert, something like that—knows it. He glares at me like he fantasizes about killing me off so Katherine will finally notice him.
"So, you were at Jemima’s so-called resurrection?" Katherine’s voice is a little shaky, and she steals a glance at me from the corner of her eye. It’s the first time she’s had the nerve to ask a direct question.
"Well, not at the resurrection itself. Just at Jemima’s sermon the following Sunday. I'm sure the resurrection would have been more fun to watch, since it took place in her bed..." I wag my eyebrows suggestively.
As I suspected, innuendo is even more effective at bringing on her blush, but the sly grin that follows close behind is a surprise. “You weren’t supposed to be married back when you met her in 1776. Why didn’t you arrange an invitation to her chamber?"
"Um…because that would have blown my cover as an aspiring celibate.”
"It’s your third trip to this region. If that cover’s not already blown, you must be slipping.”
Her comment almost causes me to miss a step. I’d classed her as pretty, but vapid . She apparently catches my near-stumble, because a tiny little smile sneaks onto her lips.
We trudge along for another ten minutes or so. Katherine picks up the pace when she spots Judge Potter’s residence, known locally as The Abbey, up ahead. I’m not sure if the family calls it that or not. The villagers seem to be using the term ironically, possibly mocking Judge Potter for taking Jemima in and building a separate wing for her to hold services.
“Don’t get your hopes up,” I caution Katherine. “It’s farther than it looks."
She sighs and slows back down. The hike up North Road is less than two kilometers total, but between the dark, heavy clothes of this era and today’s unnaturally thick and humid air, it’s not a pleasant walk. I set a stable point on my last visit, just outside the barn, and we could probably have jumped in without anyone noticing. But the Potter family would have found it odd if visitors popped in out of nowhere, looking fresh and unruffled. Better for one of the field hands to spot us coming up the
“In case I didn’t say it earlier, Quaker garb suits thee."
“Thanks.”
I purposefully wait until the pink begins fading away from her pale skin to speak again. "Plain dress is a very difficult look to pull off, you know. If there’s the slightest hint of drab in a woman’s face, it tips the scales toward totally plain. No risk of that in your case."
As expected, the compliment summons the blood right back to her cheeks.
I need to tread carefully, though. Angelo very nearly saddled me with Delia Morell as a third party. I don’t have much use for Delia or her husband. Even though they're only a few years my senior, they've gradually wormed their way into CHRONOS middle-management, mostly by sucking up to Angelo. The two times I've landed a reprimand, it's been Delia’s fault. I talked my way out of anything actually sticking to my record, but I'm smart enough to steer clear of them.
Angelo didn’t even have a decent excuse when I asked exactly why he’d assign Delia, a mid-twentieth century specialist, to a Quaker village in 1780. He just did that weak, wavy thing with his hands and changed the subject. But he pulled her from the jump schedule, so I win.
I know why he wanted Delia along. Angelo knows our fields of research make his little blonde lamb my inevitable research partner, but he’s not sure she can handle the big bad wolf. Maybe he realizes the lamb is attracted to me. I’ve known it since the first time I saw her a few years back, fourteen and not even out of Fundamentals. Even that goofy kid who follows her everywhere—Richard, Robert, something like that—knows it. He glares at me like he fantasizes about killing me off so Katherine will finally notice him.
"So, you were at Jemima’s so-called resurrection?" Katherine’s voice is a little shaky, and she steals a glance at me from the corner of her eye. It’s the first time she’s had the nerve to ask a direct question.
"Well, not at the resurrection itself. Just at Jemima’s sermon the following Sunday. I'm sure the resurrection would have been more fun to watch, since it took place in her bed..." I wag my eyebrows suggestively.
As I suspected, innuendo is even more effective at bringing on her blush, but the sly grin that follows close behind is a surprise. “You weren’t supposed to be married back when you met her in 1776. Why didn’t you arrange an invitation to her chamber?"
"Um…because that would have blown my cover as an aspiring celibate.”
"It’s your third trip to this region. If that cover’s not already blown, you must be slipping.”
Her comment almost causes me to miss a step. I’d classed her as pretty, but vapid . She apparently catches my near-stumble, because a tiny little smile sneaks onto her lips.
We trudge along for another ten minutes or so. Katherine picks up the pace when she spots Judge Potter’s residence, known locally as The Abbey, up ahead. I’m not sure if the family calls it that or not. The villagers seem to be using the term ironically, possibly mocking Judge Potter for taking Jemima in and building a separate wing for her to hold services.
“Don’t get your hopes up,” I caution Katherine. “It’s farther than it looks."
She sighs and slows back down. The hike up North Road is less than two kilometers total, but between the dark, heavy clothes of this era and today’s unnaturally thick and humid air, it’s not a pleasant walk. I set a stable point on my last visit, just outside the barn, and we could probably have jumped in without anyone noticing. But the Potter family would have found it odd if visitors popped in out of nowhere, looking fresh and unruffled. Better for one of the field hands to spot us coming up the
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