Free Eternal by H. G. Nadel

her want more. Her lips press harder against his. Shefeels as ifsomeone is still watching, but this time she cannot stop.
     
     
    Julia woke with a start. She looked around the room, expecting to see her uncle. What uncle? His name was on the tip of her tongue. She thought of Pierre, who still had the face of Austin, of course. Her hand rose to her mouth, and she ran a finger across her bottom lip.
    Julia’s dreams were becoming increasingly vivid—so vivid that she almost couldn’t tell them from her waking life, except for the dead giveaway that the dreams took place in another era. Her apartment was bright with sunlight as Julia picked herself off the floor and straggled into the kitchen. She pulled out the French press and brewed herself a cup of dark French Roast coffee. As she poured the boiling water into the press, she remembered how her father had teased Michele about serving Julia her first coffee when she was only fourteen.
    “You’ll stunt the girl’s growth with that stuff.”
    “I drank coffee when I was her age.”
    “And look how petite you are.”
    “You never complained before.” She had arched one brow, and her father had thrown his arms around her and kissed her neck.
    “Maybe you two should take it to the bedroom,” Julia had said, rolling her eyes.
    Yet now she loved the way the smell of fresh coffee brought that image to mind. The way her father had looked at her mother was the way the young man in her dream had looked at her. Wasn’t it also the way the older man had looked at her, for just a moment?
    As she recalled the dream, she lost track of how many minutes the coffee had been steeping. She pushed the plunger down. It didn’t matter all that much. Her mother always made it strong, and Julia still liked it that way. The only change she’d made to their old morning ritual was replacing her mom’s nonfat milk with soy. The dark roast stayed. As she took a sip, tears sprang to her eyes. If her mother were here now, Julia would tell her about her dream while they sipped their coffee. “Just between us girls,
non?”
her mom would whisper and try to help her interpret the dream.
    Julia peered out the window at the broken glass left from the night before. She was still nervous about opening the door, as if someone might be waiting to pounce on her the moment she did. There was no reason for her to return to the lab today, anyway, since Bertel was still missing. And she could still do plenty of work from home, thanks to her laptop.
    Julia reached for her computer and turned it on. Nadia had e-mailed her a link to a fashion site, along with a note, “If you’re going to go gaga over the big-boy cop, time to shop in the big-girl stores.” Julia usually ignored Nadia’s hints about her nonexistent sense of style: “Guess you didn’t get Mommy’s French fashion gene, huh?” But this time, Julia clicked the link and wasted fifteen minutes looking at baby doll dresses, maxi dresses, and jeggings. Then, confused by the game of hide-and-seek legs, she closed the window on fashion and opened the file with her research.
    She looked through some calculations—proposed dosages for a drug compound she’d been working on. She had e-mailed them to Bertel, and he’d e-mailed them back with comments inserted here and there, most of them enthusiastic: “If each drug multiplies the reactions of the other, the results could be just what we’re looking for!” and “Incredible imagination!” and “How did you think of using those side effects as primary effects?” The ghost of a smile passed across her face. In high school, most of her science and math teachers had been perfectionists, automatons, or just plain angry old men, who didn’t put much stock in giving praise. If you earned an A, they figured your effort was its own reward. Bertel was different.
    Julia brushed her hand across his comments. “Where are you, Doc?” she whispered softly. The last day they’d spent together, he’d