The Mammoth Book of Time Travel Romance by André Jensen

Author:André Jensen [Jensen, André]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2010-10-24T23:49:23.214000+00:00

around to enjoy it.”

He nodded. “I know. And I can’t know how long you will live if you don’t die today, or

how much more you will write. There are no odds for that, no way to predict, no way to

track what didn’t happen. But I can tell you . . . having heard the first chapter of your new

book, I would give anything to read the rest of it.”

I frowned. “Only . . . whether I live or die, you never will. Because either I won’t live to

write it . . . or I won’t manage to publish it.”

“Those aren’t exactly the options. Don’t worry about what comes next. Or about me.

Tell me what you want now. Do you want to become as famous as . . . well, not

Shakespeare, but as famous as Tolkien? If you have to die today to do it? I know some

writers would give anything for that guarantee.” He took a deep breath, and said, “Or

would you want to live, knowing that if you do, odds are no one will ever know who you

were?”

I drank the last of my diet soda and put my hand over his. “How long do I have to

make up my mind?”

“Your murder happens at 7.24 a.m.”

I looked at my watch. It was 4.10 a.m.

I put my hand on his and said, “I have to go home. I want you to come with me.”

“I . . .” He looked away and blinked and swallowed, and I saw one tear slide down the

side of his nose.

Without another word, he went to the counter and paid the bill, and we walked out

together.

He was staring at his shoes as he walked me to my car. “So you have decided? You want

to die and be famous in the world you leave behind?”

“No, Per. I just want to know there’s something worth living for.

I had to go back to my place. My gut demanded it, but my mind wouldn’t say why.

I couldn’t run away. Well, I could – running away had been what I’d been best at my

whole life, frankly. Foster homes, jobs, relationships . . .

But holding the book I’d written in my hands and knowing I hadn’t lived to see it

published, that someone I didn’t like much had taken my work and my passion and made

it successful after I was dead because I hadn’t had the guts to even try while I was alive . . .

Yeah. I had to go back to my place. I didn’t know what was going to happen there, but

I wanted to have a say in what did.

Per didn’t talk much on the drive over.

He sat in the passenger seat, staring straight ahead. When I glanced over at him I could

see the muscles in his jaw working. I realized he was angry. I wasn’t sure why.

Finally he said, “You know why I came back?”

I should have asked that. “No.”

“I’ve been reading and rereading your books since I was fifteen. They changed me.

They gave me a way of looking at the world that I don’t think I could have found on my

own.

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