Mine Tomorrow. Jackie Braun

several yards away in the square with the pretty nurse bent backward over his arm.

      Devin was reliving history.

       Chapter Four

      Reliving it?

      No. She was dreaming about it.

      Devin chided herself for thinking, even momentarily, that the scene was real. If her being here was real, then everything was real. And that included Gregory Prescott. As much as she might wish to find herself married to a man such as this one, to her profound regret, she knew that was impossible. It was 1945 in her dream, but when she woke up, it would be 2014, and the only things that would remain tangible would be the period clothing that seemed to have started all of this nonsense.

      Regardless, that left her with a bit of a dilemma: Now what was she supposed to do? Since her dream had never reached this point, Devin wasn’t sure what would happen next.

      “Are you ready to go?”

      “No!” She didn’t want to leave him.

      Of course, that wasn’t what Gregory meant. His brows tugged together. “You want to stay…here…in Times Square?”

      Devin had no desire to remain among the jostling crowd, so she shook her head and asked, “Where do you want to go?”

      Her heart skipped a couple of beats when Gregory replied, “Home.”

      It was the word she used in reference to her tiny apartment, although it had never felt quite as fitting a description as it did when he said it now. The word evoked memories not of her childhood abode, nor even of a physical place, but of a sense of belonging that she craved, although she had no idea how deeply until just then.

      His intense gaze told her exactly what he had in mind once they reached their destination. Desire. Hunger. Need. The kind of possession that gave as much as it took. And why not? He was a sailor recently returned from sea, a husband returning to his wife after a long absence. Meanwhile, she was a woman who hadn’t had sex in a year. Even then, it had been unexceptional to the point of being disappointing.

      It always was.

      Never had Devin experienced the fireworks that her friends talked about, which had caused her to wonder if maybe something was wrong with her. One look at Gregory, however, and such concerns evaporated. If the way he kissed was any indication, she figured she was in store for a fireworks display worthy of the Fourth of July.

      But as eager as she was to be alone with him, she had worried over her younger sister’s welfare for so long that it was second nature to do so now.

      “I should call the shop and let Emily know…” Devin began before she remembered there was no need to touch base with her sibling in a dream.

      “Emily?” he asked.

      “She’s my…my sister.”

      “I didn’t realize…” He rubbed a hand along his jaw. “That is to say, she and I never had the chance to meet. It was such a rushed affair.”

      “Our…our wedding?”

      “Our wedding, our courtship, our engagement…everything. Were you staying with her? Is that where you’ve been these past few months?”

      The note found at the sale came to mind. Come back to me.

      Before she could answer, Gregory shook his head. “It doesn’t matter, Devin. Nothing else matters except that you’re here now.”

      Perhaps nothing else mattered, but she couldn’t quash the feeling that something was off.

      He was saying, “What is this shop that you say you should call?”

      A shop that would not exist in 1945, so it made no sense to mention Yesterday’s Closet to him.

      “A clothing store I know.”

      “And your sister works there, I take it.” He took her hand and they started to walk.

      “Yes, a few mornings a week.” Since it was so easy to talk about Emily, she added proudly, “She attends college full time on a scholarship.”

      “Impressive. Did you work while I was away?”

      “I have a job,” Devin replied, not sure what verb tense was called for in a dream that was taking place more than half a century in the past.

      “You never mentioned it in your letters, but then there hadn’t been any since, well, I was reassigned to another ship.”

      She glanced over sharply. It wasn’t accusation she saw in his expression, but sadness, contrition even, when he added, “I tried to get a letter out right away, to reassure you I was fine after the attack, but mail was spotty at that point.”