Free The Time Seekers (The Soul Seekers Book 2) by Amy Saia Page A

me hanging around the college and took me in, teaching me everything I knew.
    “I always wanted a protégé,” he said, sitting back to read.
    December fifth was a Friday. I’d been telling William about it all week, adding for him to make sure and wear a tie, to not be late, and how there would be a little get-together afterwards. Like a cocktail party. He liked those.
    “Friday, December fifth, got it,” he’d say, finger in the air to mark an invisible box.
    I wore my best dress, a blue satin with a V-neck and spaghetti straps. I even splurged on a brand new pair of gold pumps. And to top the whole outfit off, I wore Jesse’s jacket. I figured it wouldn’t be right to be there without him, and anyway, it helped distract from the way my abdomen had begun to push out like a little round hill.
    Max dressed up, too. No army jacket, no blue jeans. He wore slacks and a button-down, long-sleeved dress shirt and tie. He even combed his hair.
    “You look nice,” I said when I saw him walk into the college meeting room-turned art gallery.
    “So do you.” His eyes swept over me in rapt appraisal, then, “Where’s that jerk husband of yours?”
    “Coming,” I said, scanning my watch. I stepped back a few inches to get a better view of the entire display. My work, among a few other students from Penn Peak and colleges in nearby towns, hung mid-wall with little spotlights shining down for affect. Jesse was stunning. No matter where you walked, those rebellious eyes stared you down with every step. You couldn’t escape it, or the way his lips twisted up in a familiar smile. Max came to put an arm around my shoulders. “You did good, Bennett. Real good. If you don’t win this damn thing, I’ll set fire to Penn Peak, and we can both hitch a ride to Vegas, okay?”
    “Okay.” I was so glad Max was there to comfort me. Artist to artist, he knew how much it meant to see my work up there, and how hard it had been to create every single headache-producing line.
    But I needed William, too. I wanted him to see what I had done, to tell me how proud he was. And then afterwards, I would tell him he was going to be a father. He and I, the two kids who had escaped from Springvale only a year ago, had created a life. Beautiful life.
    Max placed a glass of fruit punch in my hands and then meandered the room, making small talk with anyone who’d come out to view the show. I heard him say my name repeatedly, and I blushed every time. Later, we stood in the shadows while the judges inspected each piece in a slow manner. He kept eyeing my front pocket because the cigarette was there, and I kept eyeing my watch. William still hadn’t shown.
    When they announced my name, said I’d won, I stood back in shock. Max threw his arms up in the air, and then grabbed me for a big, swirling hug. “We did it, we did it!”
    I smiled. I cried.
    Half an hour later, when the room had cleared and Max and I had schmoozed all the judges, I gave one final check of the time and knew he would never show. Max cracked his knuckles in anger. “That bastard. I’ll kill him if he shows up now. You want me to, Bennett? I’ll do it, honest-to-God.”
    “No, Max, I don’t want that. He just forgot, that’s all.”
    “Forgot?” Max shook his head. “A good husband don’t forget his wife’s finest moment. I wouldn’t.” He gave me a once-over, then raised a brow. “And here you are, ready to give it all up to have his child.”
    I stammered like a dry fish.
    His eyes softened. “I knew it. Didn’t have to tell me, but you could have. Poor, young thing.” He touched my face with a gentle caress. “Give him the good news yet?”
    Heat spread all over my body. And sadness. “I was going to, tonight. And now . . . I’m not sure what to do.”
    ¤ ¤ ¤
    We pulled up to the house in Max’s coughing Volkswagen van, snow sifting slowly past the rattling windows. A blizzard was coming. The station humming away on his dashboard radio reported weather