Timeless

CHAPTER 27

A bby sat on Quinn’s sofa, drinking a beer and eating the best piece of pie she’d ever had of any flavor. She definitely wouldn’t tell her mother that. The woman prided herself on her baking skills, and they were certainly good, but, apparently, Mrs.Potter’s were better. She’d been chewing for a minute in an attempt to stall because she didn’t know what else to say. They’d acknowledged the fact that they were quite possibly reincarnated versions of women who had fallen in love again over and over again. Abby could no longer call it anything else. They’d had too many visions, scenes playing out in their minds, details they both knew about those visions, but they couldn’t know those things without this truth. They were both themselves and a combination of other women throughout time.

“Do you think we’ve ever been anyone famous?” Quinn asked as she set her fork down on her empty pie plate.

“What?” Abby laughed a little, liking how Quinn had this ability to joke and laugh while talking about something that was very serious.

“Well, it’s a valid question. Think about it. It’s what everyone thinks when they talk about this. No one ever thinks they used to be a random Jane or John if they believe in reincarnation. It’s that they were Jane Austen or John F. Kennedy or someone like that.”

“So, you think one or both of us could have been Jane Austen?”

“You know what I mean.” Quinn smiled at her before she took a sip of her beer. “It’s possible, right? I don’t know how many times this has happened, but if it’s happened for at least a couple hundred years or more, odds are that we’ve lived at least ten different lives. Maybe one of those was as a rich couple who pretended to be roommates, and people thought we were old spinsters. Maybe we were famous at that time.”

“What about Elizabeth and Bess? I’ve gotten visions of them since I started writing Cheryl and Diana. When do you think they lived?”

“It felt like mid-eighteen hundreds to me. Like the American South, too. I don’t know why I think that, but it feels right. Two women who fell in love but had to marry men, given the time. They live in the woods, a few miles away from each other, and have to walk or ride a horse to see the other one, only able to do that every so often because their life is so hard.”

Abby nodded and said, “Sounds about right. The cabin I saw was different than another one I’ve seen, though, so I think we were someone else, too. And it felt much older to me. Like, much, much older. Not in America, either.”

“Well, I still think that we lived in Victorian England, so it makes sense that we wouldn’t have always lived here. We could’ve lived all over the world, and it’ll start coming back to us. God, imagine having, like, ten or so lives rolling around in our brains. And it could be more, right?”

“Where would you want to live?”

“Huh?” Quinn asked, seemingly a little lost in thought.

“Where would you want to live?”

“Here. I like it here.”

“No, I mean, in our past,” Abby said to clarify. “Where would you have wanted a different version of you to live?”

“Honestly, that’s tricky.”

“Why?”

“Because I’d want them to live somewhere else in the present day, not past somewhere else.”

“Explain.” Abby kicked off her shoes and slid her feet under her body, turning to Quinn, who lifted an eyebrow at her.

“Well, they had to be together in secret pretty much at any time period but our own. Maybe a little earlier than us, but it was still hard. I know it’s not exactly easy now, and it’s gotten worse recently, but there are places in the world where you and I can get married right now and be together forever, not having to keep it a secret or be forced to marry a man. We now also have the science to have a baby, if we wanted, we could adopt one through someone or an agency, and even surrogacy is an option, too. Yes, we’d need money to do all that stuff, but at least it’s possible. So, I guess I’d rather us just travel the world today than think about the myriad of struggles that they all had to go through no matter where they lived because of when they lived.”

Abby smiled softly at her and said, “I like that.”

“Traveling the world with me?” Quinn asked.

“Don’t push your luck. I still haven’t decided if I even want to date you.”

Quinn laughed and replied, “You’re still here. You just took off your shoes and got comfortable. Why did you do that?”

“Because I’m enjoying our conversation.”

“You were rushing out of here a minute ago, prepared to finish writing another story about real people and maybe looking those people up on the internet so that you could find out what happened to them in real life.”

“I think I’d rather write it first, like I said. I was going to talk to you and look them up after, but I think I’d rather write about Cheryl and Diana before I look them up.”

“To see what you got right?” Quinn asked.

“Not just that necessarily. I’ve never enjoyed writing so much in my life. My first book was a chore to write. I liked the time period I chose, but not all the research I had to do before I even got to plotting. Then, the characters started to annoy me during that phase all writers go through and hate when they can’t stand the book they’re writing. I’m not really experiencing any of that right now. And yes, it’s scary what we’ve discovered, but it’s just made the words pour out of me. It’s made me love writing again.”

“That’s good,” Quinn replied. “Did you notice in your Cheryl and Diana story that you’re a writer there, too?”

“Not the same kind, but yeah. And did you notice that Diana wanted to go to nursing school?”

“God, we’re so different,” Quinn joked, causing Abby to laugh.

“It’s fascinating, isn’t it? How, one time – or, I guess, two times, at least, that we know of – you did or wanted to do it, but you did it this time and hated it, so you left. Now, you own an antique shop, and that’s how we met.”

“Maybe the details are what makes us different,” Quinn suggested. “I’m still me because of those differences. I drink wine, hate nursing school, love owning a shop filled with old and, sometimes, dusty things, and I’m attracted to a woman who writes novels, not a would-be reporter or farmer.”

“So, you’re saying you wouldn’t be attracted to me if I were a farmer?”

“No, I would be. You’re hot.”

Abby laughed and replied, “You know what I meant, Quinn Elizabeth.”

“I told you what I like about you so far, so stop fishing for compliments, Abigail Foster.”

“This possible relationship is going to end pretty quickly if you never compliment me again,” Abby teased.

“Oh, now, it’s a possible relationship ? A minute ago, you weren’t even sure you wanted to go out with me once.”

“Shut up.” Abby laughed.

Quinn’s phone rang, stopping Abby’s laughter.

“What is it with your phone always interrupting us?” Abby asked as she continued to laugh.

“It’s my mom. Sorry. Can you give me a second? If I don’t answer, she’s just going to think I’m dead in a ditch somewhere and keep calling until I do.”

“Sure. Want me to go, give you some privacy?”

“No!” Quinn protested quickly and held up her finger. “Just a second.”

Abby smiled and gave her a nod because Quinn was really cute when she was trying to get Abby to stay .

“Hey, Mom. Can I call you back later?”

Abby looked around the room while Quinn continued talking to her mother. She felt strange, sitting there, listening in on at least half of their conversation, but then, she found herself shifting a little closer to Quinn on the sofa. Her head went back to it, and she rested it to the side, looking over at Quinn, who was staring back at her as she talked to someone else. Abby smiled softly. Quinn did the same. Abby wanted to take her hand or rest her own on Quinn’s thigh. She also wanted Quinn to reach for her, cup her cheek softly, and then silently suggest that Abby lean in for a kiss. She didn’t know how much of that desire was coming from the present and how much was coming from the past, and it bothered her, but not enough to leave. Not this time, anyway.

“Uh… Mom, I can’t talk about that right now.”

Abby wasn’t sure what Quinn was trying to avoid, but it was clear that she didn’t want to talk about whatever it was with Abby sitting right there.

“Yeah, uh… We’ve been talking.”

Abby squinted at her.

“She’s here right now, Mom. That’s why I can’t talk. So, can I please go so–” Quinn stopped. “Great. Love you, too.” Then, she hung up the phone.

“I’m sorry. What was that , exactly?” Abby asked through her laughter.

“My mother is always asking me about women. She doesn’t like that I’m here alone and single, and I swear, sometimes, she only calls to ask me if I’m still single.”

“And you couldn’t talk about that with me here?”

“Full disclosure, after you and I first met, I might have suggested to her that you were coming back to the shop to maybe talk more about the possibility of us maybe going out on a date or something.”

Abby laughed louder and said, “How many maybes and possibilities did you put in there?”

“Not enough, apparently, because she asked again and just now, too. ”

“So, your mom already knows about me?”

“Not about anything specific. She asked for a name, so I said Abby, but that’s all she knows. You’re a famous writer, so I didn’t want to give her your last name or anything. Then, honestly, I wasn’t sure you were into women. I mean, I was pretty sure, but I didn’t want to out you to my mother, who has learned social media specifically to spy on people.”

Abby laughed again and said, “So, you haven’t told her about anything else?”

Quinn shook her head and replied, “I was in denial, too, there for a bit. And it feels like something that should be kept between us. She might try to have me committed, but it’s also, I don’t know, special that only you and I know this really important thing.”

“I agree,” Abby said. “But you just told her that we’re together right now, so…”

Quinn’s phone chimed then, and Abby laughed. Quinn picked it up again and read the message.

“She says that if you’re staying the night, I can call her tomorrow. How kind of her, huh?”

“She’s pretty confident that you can seal the deal, huh?” Abby joked.

“Seal the deal? Are you the Richard from your story now? Trying to go all the way with me tonight, Abigail Foster?”

“No. And I really should go. You can call her back now, if you want.”

“I don’t want you to go, Abby. I want you to stay. I can call her back tomorrow.”

“Quinn, I’m not ready for–”

“Not for that,” Quinn clarified quickly and dropped her phone onto the sofa. “Just to keep doing this. I don’t want to stop talking to you.”

“I need to write,” Abby admitted. “I want to get their story onto the page. It’s important to me. I guess you should understand that part of me. When I’m writing something I’m into, I have to do it. I get a pull there, too. Not the same way I’m pulled toward you, but I do have to write, or I get really crabby.” She chuckled.

Her first instinct had been to hide that this was something about her that most people weren’t aware of and that many people, including some of her exes, didn’t understand about her. Abby knew revealing this to Quinn made her vulnerable. But something about this woman – and Abby wasn’t sure that it was from someone from their past because it felt like it was just Quinn to her – had Abby trusting her and sharing that fact about herself.

“I understand. Can you come by the shop tomorrow, though? Or can I come by your place? I can bring the rest of this pie and maybe some dinner. We can just talk.”

“Please, you’ll finish this pie before tomorrow night.” Abby slipped back into her shoes. “And can I call you? I don’t know what’s going to happen with this story, and I still have to finish Deb and Harriet’s. I owe pages to my publisher, and this whole real-life thing has me wondering about how to handle all of this with an actual book being published.”

“You don’t have my number,” Quinn pointed out.

Abby stopped what she was doing, looked over at her, and tilted her head at the realization.

“I don’t, do I?”

“Nope. Social handles? Yes. Address? Check. Not my phone number, though.”

Abby pulled her phone out of her pocket, unlocked it, and handed it to Quinn.

“Put it in there. I’ll text you mine.”

Quinn went about adding herself to Abby’s contacts, but then she froze as Abby’s phone chimed.

“You just got a message.”

“Is it your mom asking me when we’re getting married?” Abby joked. “Did she somehow track down my number only knowing my first, very common name?”

“No, it’s someone named Samantha. She wants to know when you’re moving back to LA so that you can talk about the two of you getting back together in person.” Quinn held out Abby’s phone, looking sad and confused at the same time. “ Sorry. I didn’t mean to read it. My number’s in there now, though.”

“Quinn…”

“No, it’s okay. That’s your business.”

“Quinn, hold on.” Abby took her phone back from her and, ignoring Samantha’s message, she created a new one to send Quinn her number. “There. Now, you have mine, too. And what you should know is that when I first left LA, I broke up with someone. It was going to end anyway, but I used my move here as a way to make it happen sooner. I also stupidly told her that I wasn’t sure if it would work out, me moving home, so there was a chance I’d move back. I thought I might if I could get over my anxiety issues.”

“So, she wants you back?”

“She’s texted me a few times since I moved here, yes. I’ve told her that I don’t want to get back together, but she’s persistent.”

“I get it. You’re you , after all.”

Abby smiled at the compliment and said, “The women you and I have been before might have only been with each other or their husbands, because they had to be, but, really, their hearts probably only belonged to each other.”

“And you and I live today, where it’s not quite like that anymore. I get it. I’ve had girlfriends, too, Abby. I’m no virgin, either.”

“I’ve never been in love, Quinn. I’m close to thirty years old, and I’ve had long-term relationships – not many and not many short ones, either – but I’ve never actually loved anyone. I know that because I know how Deb loved Harriet. I can feel how Cheryl is falling for Diana already. I’ve never had that with anyone before.”

“Me neither,” Quinn shared.

“So, now that that’s taken care of, and you know that I don’t want to get back together with my ex, can we talk about tomorrow again?”

“You were going to call me about that.”

Abby took a deep breath then, pushing her worry and concern out of her mind, which, surprisingly, wasn’t as hard as she’d expected it to be. She wanted this. She knew it was a risk, and it was overwhelming, but it was something that she knew she had to go for. So, she swallowed and decided to go for it. It was one night, one date, and if it didn’t work out or go well, they could talk about it.

“What if you come to my place for dinner tomorrow night? After the shop is closed, just come over. I’ll cook. You bring dessert.”

“Should I bring the wine, too?”

“Red? The dryer, the better?”

Quinn nodded with a smile and said, “I’ll close the shop and go to the store. Meet you at your place around seven?”

“Sounds good,” she replied and stood up.

“Abby?”

Abby was walking toward the door but stopped and turned back to her.

“Yeah?”

“Is this a first date?”

“Can it be, when we’ve already been on so many before we were even born?”

“Yes,” Quinn stated confidently. “Because it’s our first.”