you, some kind of intrepid rogue reporter?” I respond, lightly. “Following up on leads and finding clues in dark alleys? A private eye, maybe? Is this your life’s work; undercover for the Lost? This is what we’re called by the way, if you want the technical Latin term.”
“No dark alleys; I’m terrified of rats. And I don’t work as a gumshoe or a reporter. I have been putting together clues for a few years now though. Also, I knew a guy who was Lost and he pretty much told me everything.” Luke winks at me, breaking some of the tension I’m feeling. “He rented a room from me before I moved into the palatial palace you saw in my office. His name was Armando and when I met him he was wearing a ruffled shirt and awfully tight pants. I knew he was strange, I didn’t realize just how strange until later when he started talking to me. He was extremely good natured and polite and it turns out he was so afraid of what I’d think of him if he accidently skipped out without paying his rent that he actually convinced me of what he was: a time traveler.”
I roll my eyes. “I really hate that term.”
“Sorry. Armando traveled alone but he found a few others at the shelter and they kind of collaborated his story. Together with their testimonies I started realizing maybe my own mother wasn’t as colorful a storyteller as I had always thought.” My stare must be blank because he continues on, explaining. “My dad was a no-show by the time I was two. Mom used to try to make excuses for him, at least I thought they were excuses, about how he had to go, how it wasn’t his fault, that he was special, and that he had to move on even if he didn’t want to. I pretty much ignored her excuses, and anyway she married my stepdad when I was just a kid and then we kind of quit talking about my biological dad. My mom has always been a free spirit and believes in all sorts of things that others don’t, unicorns and fairies and peace on earth and things, so I didn’t pay much attention to the things she said. But after meeting Armando and his buddies, I wasn’t so sure. Course, with my luck, it could be my father really is a deadbeat dad, living with a second family somewhere in this century. Who knows? But when I started eating at Prue’s cart and talking a little to your father - plus I met Matthias and Harry there one afternoon and they’re pretty chatty – and then meeting you, well, I put two and two together. Especially after the Rose episode.”
“Rose was left behind when she was three years old,” I explain, finally speaking. “No one knows why and we all just assumed that she lived her life in that one time frame. When I saw the photo, I knew, just knew, that it was her. And I was even more certain when I saw her here.” I rub the spot on the back of my neck that starts to tense up whenever I feel stressed or worried or tired. “So you can see how desperate it is that we find her before one of us travels again? If we don’t travel together, we may never be in the same place at the same time again.”
“Yes, I can see that.” His playful demeanor is serious now. He looks worried on my behalf which strangely, makes that spot on the back of my neck feel better suddenly. “So, what’s your theory? Why is she here? Now?”
“I wish I knew. I don’t know if she’s been one step behind us all these years, or if she’s only come into her abilities as she’s becoming an adult. She’d be about seventeen now, give or take.”
“Ahh, seventeen. I remember it like it was only three years ago…which it was. And I thought my problems were huge at that age.”
“You have no idea. Teenagers these days,” I make a humph-ing sound that to my chagrin sounds exactly like Prue. I am the world’s youngest old woman! I feel myself turn red.
Luke laughs. “You’re alright, Gray. How long do you think you have?”
“Five minutes,” I say, promptly, as I glance at the clock on the wall across the room.
“You’re going to time travel – excuse me, I mean travel through time – in five minutes?”