About Time

By Carol Holland March

Lou is married, in the closet, and facing bankruptcy in Carmel, California. It’s Christmas Eve and he must sell his house to pay his debts while he tries to cope with the mysterious voice in his head telling him it's time to go home. He has no idea what that means, but he's pretty sure the voice is a symptom of stress. His wife has left him for her longtime lover and when he goes to his favorite bar on Christmas Eve, all he’s hoping for is a friendly face to help him forget his problems.

When George joins him at the bar, claiming to be an old college buddy, Lou doesn’t remember him, but he can’t deny the instant attraction that springs up between them. George knows about the voice in Lou’s head, and claims to be from another world where he and Lou were bonded partners. He’s come back to help Lou remember who he is so they can be reunited.

Lou doesn’t believe a word of George’s story, but takes him home for the night to ease his own pain. The sex is so good he decides to go along with George’s delusions even though he suspects the guy is crazy. On the Carmel beach on Christmas day at sunset, George insists that the way home is within their grasp if Lou will just trust him. Lou wants to believe this strange man, but to do that he has to let go of everything he knows about how the world works.

• Language: English
• Publisher: JMS Books LLC
• Release date: Oct 9, 2019
• ISBN: 9781646561360

Carol Holland March

Carol Holland March lives in Albuquerque, New Mexico where she writes about the intersection of dreams, reality, and time. She sets her speculative fiction in locations where the veil is thinnest. She teaches classes on writing and creativity at the University of New Mexico and blogs at CarolHollandMarch.com.Her newest release is a nonfiction book, When Spirit Whispers, the first in a planned series on Healing from Trauma.

Book preview

6

Chapter 1

Lou turned into the driveway of the restored 1930s cottage that had been his home for ten years, hoping none of the neighbors were peeking at him from behind their curtains. The house had never looked better, with the tree twinkling in the bay window, a tasteful fir wreath suspended on the brass door knocker, and the stupid white lights he had strung on the bougainvillea bushes. He wondered again how long it would take to sell.

No matter how warm and inviting the house looked, since Ann departed two weeks before—with no warning—Lou felt like a ghost in his own life. He was packing away the extra ornaments when she announced her decision, citing her inability to continue living with a failed real estate broker with a knack for attracting trouble. Then she stomped upstairs to finish packing.

He assumed she was making some kind of half-assed protest about his infidelities, even though they had made their arrangement in the second year of their marriage and he was always careful to be discreet. He figured whatever she was angry about would blow over, but she left the next day. Not until he called her sister, did he learn that Ann had joined Philip the stockbroker, the longtime lover Lou had not known existed until that moment. He still couldn’t believe she hadn’t told him. Or that he hadn’t suspected. Traveling for business had given her the perfect cover.

Her lawyer was coldly adamant. The house would be sold unless Lou preferred to contest the divorce. Given that he was broke and Ann offered to settle for half the proceeds from the house if he went along with the sale, Lou figured he would take the deal. He couldn’t afford the lease payments on his two-year-old Mercedes, let alone the pricey lawyer he’d need to fight Ann. His credit card debt was ridiculous, and if he didn’t make a sale soon, bankruptcy loomed. The word alone made him cringe. His Midwestern parents had raised him to pay as he went and owe no one. At least they were not around to see how much of a mess he’d made.

Lou left his car in the driveway and went in through the side door. His footsteps echoed on the pink marble tile in the kitchen. He hadn’t spoken to Marta, their five day a week morning housekeeper. She still came every morning, so the kitchen looked immaculate, with no sign of the fast food and scotch he was subsisting on. Carmel was a small town, so anywhere he went, he met someone who asked about Ann. Lou avoided restaurants and settled for takeout Mexican and diner food.

He wandered through the great room, decorated with fat red candles nestled in balsam branches and the ridiculous tree strewn with vintage ornaments—elves and reindeer, pine cones and hummingbirds. The eight-foot Douglass Fir filled the bay window. The first time Ann saw the house, she exclaimed, It’s perfect, and smiled at him. The Christmas tree will go in that window. Everyone will see it as they drive by.

He shut down that memory and walked into the library, his favorite room. Lined with books on one wall, a TV screen covered a good portion of another. Comfortable chairs sat in front of the bookshelves, including a leather recliner Ann hated, but Lou refused to relinquish. In one corner sat the computer he had left on. The screensaver with the photo of seals basking on the rocks at Lobo Point mocked him with its serene beauty. He could check his email, but hell, nobody looked at houses on Christmas Eve. His phone had been silent since yesterday.

Time to come home, Lou.