Hearts Through Time

EIGHTEEN

Gone was the pleasant expression on Abby's beautiful face. It was now replaced with anger and mistrust. Nick's heart dropped. He'd been an idiot to confess his love so soon. Yet the words just flowed from his mouth.

She stiffened in his arms mere seconds before she pushed away from him and stepped back. She shook her head. "That cannot be right. You don't even know me. How could you love someone you've never met?"

"Abby, it's not like that."

"Harry was right. You're just after my father's money."

Nick reached for her, but she backed away. "Please, Abby, let me explain."

"What I'd like you to do, Mr. Marshal, is collect your things and leave my house posthaste. I don't wish to see you. If you don't do as I say, I will summon the police."

He sighed, wishing he could just tell her the truth. All he could do was leave, but keep an eye on her from a distance. He also needed to start asking questions. In less than two weeks, someone was going to kill her and he had to stop it.

Nick turned and walked out of the room, but stopped in the entrance, unwilling to let things end like this. He had to say something. He looked at Abby over his shoulder. Tears spiked her eyelashes, and her bottom lip trembled. He'd never wanted to hurt her, and he wished he could take back his declaration of love.

"Abby, I don't care about your father's money. If you were penniless and living on the street, I'd still have these feelings for you. I wish you'd let me prove it to you, but until then, I'm not giving up. I've given you my word that I'll be here for you and protect you, and I'll follow through with my promise."

Abigail brought her hand to her mouth as tears spilled down her cheeks. He turned and walked slowly to his room to collect his vest and jacket. Then he made his way to the front door, hoping she'd be there waiting for him. She wasn't, so he let himself out.

Nick's heart wrenched with each step he took away from her house. He had no idea how he'd win her heart and earn her trust again. But he wouldn't give up. Her life—and his happiness—depended on finding the person intent on murdering her.

The only other place he could go was back to the newspaper building. Thankfully, a farmer gave him a lift this time. In 1912, dress shoes were definitely not made for walking. When he reached the office building, he stood in front and looked up. Right away he noticed where the new additions had been built during his time—different windows and automatic doors.

What was he going to do to make a living now? The laws were far different now than in the future when he practiced. It wouldn't be hard to take the California Bar Exam again; he'd just have to find out where he could take it, and find a way to pay for it. But if they required proof he'd gone to college, he'd be in trouble.

He could be a private detective. But again, where would he get the funds to get started in that profession? He also didn't know how long he'd be living in Abby's time. Was it his destiny to prevent her murder and then go back? Or would he be fortunate enough to stay in this time forever?

From the front doors, Harry and another man stepped outside and walked toward Nick. As they came closer, he recognized the second man as the one who had caught him in the office the day before.

"You, sir," bellowed the second man. "Hold up there!"

Soon Harry stood before Nick. "It's a pleasure to meet you again, Mr. Marshal."

"The pleasure is all mine, I'm sure." Nick arched an eyebrow.

"My associate, Mr. Murdock here, tells me you knew what happened to the Titanic yesterday. Is this so?"