Time and Again

to make love with her again. "But you study men."
    "Studying and interacting are different things." He didn't have to touch her to stir her, Libby realized. He only had to look, as he was looking now. "I'm not very outgoing unless I concentrate on it."
    He started to laugh, then realized she believed it. "I think you underestimate Liberty Stone. You took me in and cared for me, and I was a stranger."
    "I could hardly have left you out in the rain."
    "You couldn't. Others could. History may not be my strong suit, Libby, but I doubt human nature has changed that much. You went out in the storm to find me, brought me into your home, let me stay even when I annoyed you. If I get back to my own time and place it will be because of you."
    She rose then to fix more tea she didn't want. She didn't want to think about his leaving, though she knew she would have to. It was wrong to pretend, even for a few hours, that he would stay with her and forget the life he'd left behind.
    "I don't think giving you a bed and some scrambled eggs constitutes a real debt," She made herself smile as she turned toward him again. "But if you want to be grateful I won't argue with you."
    He'd said something wrong. Though he couldn't put his finger on it, Cal could tell from the way her eyes had changed. She was smiling at him, but her eyes were dark and sad. "I don't want to hurt you, Libby."
    Her eyes softened now, and he was relieved. "No, I know that." She sat down again and poured each of them another full cup. "What do you plan to do? About getting back, I mean."
    "How much do you know about physics?"
    "Next to nothing."
    "Then let's just say I'll put the ship's computer to work. The damage was pretty minimal, so that shouldn't be a problem. I'll have to ask you to drive me out to the ship again."
    "Of course." She felt a bubble of panic and struggled to get past it. "I suppose you'll want to stay on the ship now, while you work out your calculations and make your repairs."
    It would be more practical, and it would certainly be more convenient. Cal gave it no more than a moment's consideration. "I was hoping I could stay here. I've got my aircycle on board, so I can get back and forth easily enough. If you don't mind the company."
    "No, of course not." She said it quickly, too quickly, flustering herself. Then she stopped and backed up.
    "Your aircycle?"
    "If it wasn't damaged in the crash," he mused. Then he tossed the possibility aside. "We'll have a look tomorrow. Are you going to eat the rest of that?"
    "What? Oh, no." She passed him the second half of her sandwich. It was ridiculous, she supposed, but every now and then he said something that made her wonder if she was dreaming again. "Cal," she began slowly, "it occurs to me that I can never tell anyone about you, or any of this."
    "I'd rather you'd wait until I'd gone." He finished off the sandwich. "But I don't mind if you tell anyone."
    "That's big of you." She gave him a bland look. "Tell me, do they have padded cells in the twenty-third century?"
    "Padded cells?" He took a moment to imagine one. "Is that a joke?"
    "Only on me," she told him as she rose to clear the plates.
    "It may be one on me, too. I've wondered if, once I get back, anyone will believe me."
    A thought struck her that was both absurd and fascinating. "Maybe I could do a time capsule. I could write everything down, put in a few interesting or pertinent items and seal it up. We could bury it-I don't know, down by the stream, perhaps. When you got back you could dig it all up."
    "A time capsule." The idea appealed to him, not just scientifically, but personally. Wouldn't it mean he would still have something of her, even when they were separated by centuries? He would need that, he realized, the solid proof of not only where he had been but that she had existed. "I can run it through the computer, make sure we don't put it somewhere that's going to be covered by a building or a landslide or some such thing."
    "Good." She picked up a pad from the counter and began to scribble. "What are you doing?"
    "Making notes." She squinted at her own writing and wished she had her glasses. "We'll need to write everything down, of course, starting with you and your ship. What else should we put in it?" she wondered, tapping the pencil against the pad. "A newspaper, I think, and a picture would be good. We may have to drive back into town and find one of those little booths that take pictures. No, I'll buy a Polaroid camera." She