BEWITCHED, BOTHERED, AND BEWILDERED

by Lee Kirkland

Supple arms wrapped tightly around Sam's neck; a delicate scentsurrounded him; soft hair brushed against his cheek. The slight bodypressed close to his was definitely female, and involuntarily, hisarms tightened around her.

When he felt her lift her head from his shoulder, Sam opened hiseyes to find the young woman smiling beatifically, eyes still closed."Catherine?" he whispered in astonishment. "Oh, boy!"

Her eyes opened and she smiled. "I have to go now, Steven, or I'llbe late for class." She leaned forward and kissed him. "I'll see youlater, okay?"

"What? Oh, yeah, sure," he agreed in bewilderment.

She went out and he sprang up, going to the window to look out.The street outside was narrow, lined with older, four and five-storybuildings. He judged the apartment to be on the third floor. Lookingdown, he saw Catherine come out and wave down a passing cab. Hewatched until it disappeared around a corner.

Turning, he surveyed his surroundings. The flat was tiny, a oneroom studio with a small kitchen sectioned off in one corner and abathroom partitioned off in another.

"Rich kids," a voice behind him announced.

"What?" Sam spun to face the voice.

"Rich kids playing at being poor," Al repeated.

"Al, did you see her? That's Catherine Chandler. Only I thinkshe's younger. And she kissed me!"

Al looked interested. "Really? Lemme check it out." He punched afew keys on his hand-held computer link and slapped the side of itwhen it didn't respond quickly enough.

"Let's see," he mused, half to himself. "Your name is Steven Bass.It's January 23, 1983, and you're a law student at ColumbiaUniversity."

"But Catherine," Sam insisted. "What am I doing withCatherine?"

Al punched more buttons. "Uh-oh." Al frowned and chewed on the endof his cigar.

"Uh-oh? What? What's wrong?" Sam half-reached to grab Al's armbefore remembering he wouldn't be able to touch him.

Al cocked his head, as if a different angle might change what hewas seeing. "You live together. And you're engaged to bemarried."

"To Catherine?" Sam asked, incredulous. "But what aboutVincent?"

Al shrugged. "Ziggy won't be able to help us there," he reminded."He has no record of Vincent's existence."

"But what about Catherine? Doesn't she know..."

"Maybe she doesn't know him yet," Al suggested.

Sam thought. "No, you're right, she doesn't," he remembered. "Itwas in Vincent's journals... they meet in 1987. He finds her inCentral Park, bleeding to death because her face has beenslashed."

Al pushed a few more buttons. "Uh-oh, Sam."

Sam wished that for once, Al would get to the point without allthe buildup. "What?"

"I checked with Ziggy. He says there's no record of Catherinebeing attacked in 1987. He says she's not with the D.A.'s office;she's not even a lawyer!" He punched buttons frantically. "Shedoesn't finish law school, Sam! She marries this guy Steveninstead."

"That's not possible, Al. We've just come from 1993; we saw her!She's married to Vincent, she's the mother of his children. I savedher life once!"

"I know, Sam, but Ziggy says that doesn't matter! If you don'tkeep her from marrying Steven, none of that will happen!" Whenexcited, Al talked with his hands, and now he was especiallyagitated. Sam was glad there was no danger of being struck by anerrant gesture. "You've got to stop her, Sam! She has to meet Vincentand marry him! If you don't, little Albert will never be born!"

"Al, there's more to this than your namesake!" Sam said,exasperated. "What does Ziggy say I'm here to do?"

Al calmed a little and consulted the computer. "He agrees withme," he answered smugly. "He says there's a ninety-six percent chancethat you're here to keep Catherine Chandler from marrying StephenBass."

"What happens if I don't?" Sam inquired.

Al was intent on his hand link. "Ziggy says if she marries Steven,her whole life changes. She withdraws from her friends, even herfather. And Sam..." Al looked up, hesitant. "Ziggy's looking at hermedical records..."

Sam knew without Al telling him. "He hits her."

Al nodded. "Yeah. Over the years, he's broken her arm, her jaw,her ribs... you have to stop it, Sam. You can't let that happen toher. Vincent would never forgive you."

Vincent would never forgive you. Sam spent the rest of theafternoon wandering the small apartment, trying to push the echo ofAl's statement from his mind. What Vincent would or would not forgivewas immaterial now. Remembering his sister's abusive first marriage,Sam knew he wouldn't be able to forgive himself if he didn't do whatwas best for Catherine.

The part he couldn't understand was why this was happening at all.As he'd said to Al, they'd already seen Catherine Chandler's future,and Steven Bass wasn't part of it. And all Al could say in reply was,"Ziggy says that doesn't matter. Ziggy says this is the way itis."

It was unsatisfactory, but Sam couldn't argue with a computer, andthe fact remained that he was here, occupying a part of Catherine'slife once more.

It was nearly dark outside when he heard a key turn in the lock.Catherine came in weighed down with shopping bags and he movedquickly to lighten her load.

"I stopped by the market," she said, surrendering a brown paperbag to him. "And I brought Chinese for dinner." She moved toward thekitchen. "Steven, why is it so dark in here? I thought you were goingto spend the day studying."

"I was... I mean, I am, but..."

She sighed, cutting of his stumbling explanation. "But you got tolooking out the window, or thinking, or..."

"Yeah," he agreed sheepishly. "I guess so."

She had her back to him, putting away the few groceries she'dbrought home. He couldn't see her face, but the sharp way she movedtold him she was annoyed. After a few moments, she spoke.

"Steven, how are you ever going to get through law school if youdon't study?"

Sam suspected she was trying very hard not to be angry with him,and he was pondering a reply when the telephone rang.

"I'll get it," he said, thankful for the reprieve, and reachedquickly for the kitchen extension. "Hello?" It was only as he liftedthe receiver that it occurred to him this call might be for Steven,and he wouldn't have the slightest idea what to say.

A man's brusque voice came over the line. "Hello, Steven, it'sCharles Chandler. Is Cathy there?"

Sam didn't have any idea who Charles Chandler was, thoughobviously he was supposed to know; equally obviously, the man wasrelated to Catherine. He sounded older, so Sam guessed that he wasprobably her father; Al had mentioned him.

"Yes, sir," he answered guardedly. "Just a minute, I'll gether."

He turned and held out the receiver. "Cath..." he stumbled overher name. Sam had never heard her called by anything but her fullname, but maybe that had come later. Her father used a diminutive;maybe Steven did, too.

She didn't seem to find anything unusual in his hesitation,murmuring "thank you," as she took the receiver from his hand. "Hi,Dad, what's up?"

With his guess confirmed, Sam retreated to a far corner of theroom to allow her some privacy and give himself time to think. Hesuspected Al and Ziggy were right and that he was here to disrupt therelationship between Catherine and Steven. But he cared forCatherine, who plainly cared for Steven; he wanted to let her downgently. Idly, he wondered if she had known Steven in the othertimeline, the one where she'd eventually met Vincent, and if so, whathad happened. That line of thought, like most of the others he'd beenpursuing all afternoon, was fruitless and he pushed it aside.

Behind him, Catherine hung up the phone and he turned to face her,coming to a swift decision as he did so. For once there was norapidly approaching deadline hanging over his head;he would take itslow and easy, feeling out how things stood between Catherine andSteven before choosing a course of action. She was already annoyedwith him, so maybe he was on the right track.

He hoped too soon, because she was smiling. "Dad's just makingsure we remember we're supposed to meet him for dinner tomorrownight," she said.

Not knowing what to say, he nodded. It seemed to satisfy her andshe turned to finish stowing the last of her shopping before bringingout plates and serving dinner from a series of white cartons.

After they ate, Sam retreated to the living-room portion of thesmall apartment and took a book from a stack on an end table, leafingthrough it absently. He stiffened when Catherine came and curled upbeside him.

She began nuzzling his neck; he tried to ignore her, staring hardat the book. For a moment he thought it was working. She stopped whatshe was doing and he could feel her watching him. Without Sam knowingquite how it happened, the book went flying to the floor andCatherine draped herself across his lap. He made a futile grab forthe book, realizing too late the compromising position he was puttinghimself into.

Before he could pull back, her arms were around his neck. Hisresolve began to slip when she started kissing him. He knew heshouldn't respond, but he had always found her attractive, and shewas soft, and warm, and maybe just one kiss wouldn't hurt...

"Sam, if Vincent finds out you're messing around with his wife,he's going to rip your arms off."

Startled, Sam jerked his head up, meeting Al's disapproving gaze."Vincent..." he murmured, remembering.

Catherine tried to draw his head back down and frowned when heresisted. "Who's Vincent?" she murmured against his throat.

"I... he's... nobody... a case I was studying..." Sam fumbled,trying to extricate himself from her embrace.

"Well, study him later," she answered. Her hand went to his shirtand began tugging on the buttons and Sam knew he had to dosomething.

"Catherine, please," he murmured, and slid sideways, removing herfrom his lap. Standing, he moved away hastily.

"Steven, what's wrong?" She frowned up at him.

"Nothing. Just..." He stammered, and ran a hand through hishair.

"You'd better get out of here for a little while, Sam," Aladvised.

"Yeah. Right. Uh, listen, Cath, I'm going for a walk..." Avoidingher incredulous, hurt stare, he snatched up a jacket and hurried out.Al joined him on the sidewalk and they began to walk.

"What am I going to do, Al? How am I going to convince her thatI'm a jerk?"

"Looks like you made a pretty good start," Al observed, puffing onhis cigar. "She was mad."

"Yeah." Sam shoved his hands into his pockets and walked faster."She was mad earlier, too, but she got over it pretty quickly. Ithink she really loves this guy."

"Yeah, well, she'd better stop loving him, if she knows what'sgood for her."

"Oh, that's smart, Al. Why don't I just tell her that, so I canleap on out of here?" Sam was almost shouting in his frustration.

"Hey, hey, chill out," Al said, alarmed at his friend's vehemence."I know it's not going to be easy. But you've got to do this, Sam.This slime ball's no good for her."

Sam already regretted his outburst. This would be a lot easier ifhe hadn't met Catherine on two previous leaps, and hadn't learned tocare for her. He was emotionally involved now, and it affected hisjudgment. "I know, Al. I'll think of something."

Subdued, and deep in thought, he walked for a while longer beforeturning back to the tiny walk-up apartment. A key found in his pocketunlocked the door and he eased it open quietly. The room beyond wasdark and he could hear the rhythmic sound of someone breathing. Ashis eyes adjusted to the dimness, he saw the couch pulled out into abed; Catherine curled there, fast asleep.

"Good, Sam," Al whispered, behind him, forgetting for the momentthat Catherine couldn't have heard him if he'd shouted. "She'sasleep. Now you don't have to worry about her seducing you."

Sam threw him a withering glance, which Al characteristicallyignored.

"Hey, Sam," he asked in a more normal voice. "Where are you goingto sleep?"

Sam hadn't considered the question until Al mentioned it, but nowhe looked around the small room. The only furniture was the couch,two end tables, a desk, a bookcase, and two straight chairs. "Goodquestion," he muttered.

"How about the bathtub?" Al suggested helpfully.

Sam glared. "There isn't one," he hissed. "Only a shower."

He looked down. The carpet beneath his feet was clean but thin,and the padding beneath was nearly non-existent. Sighing, he sneakeda pillow from the couch/bed and made himself as comfortable aspossible on the hard floor.

"Goodnight, Sam," Al said, and vanished.

Fatigue finally overcame discomfort, and Sam dozed, only to beawakened by someone shaking him.

"Steven? Steven?"

It was still dark outside; the only illumination was from thestreet lamps three floors below. Sam squinted at Catherine in the dimlight.

"Steven?" she asked again. "Come to bed." She tugged at his armand he sat up groggily.

"Cath? What... what time is it?"

"Just past three," she answered. "What are you doing on thefloor?"

"Didn't want to wake you," he mumbled.

To his consternation, she smiled and pressed her forehead againsthis. "Oh, Steven." Taking his hands, she pulled him up. There was nograceful way for Sam to avoid being led to the bed, and he allowedher to tuck him in. He did manage to divert her kiss to his cheek,and she gave him a curious half-frown before crawling in beside him.She curled, with the ease of long familiarity, against his back, andwas almost immediately asleep again. Sam lay awake for a while, rigidwith uncomfortable apprehension, but finally he slept, too.

When he woke, sunlight was creeping in beneath the curtains andCatherine was nestled snugly in his arms. As he tried to ease awayfrom her, she opened sleepy green eyes and smiled at him.

"Morning," she whispered, pressing close. "Did you sleep well,once you came to bed?"

"Uh, morning," Sam answered, feeling awkward. "Yeah, I sleptokay."

"Weren't you feeling well last night? What were you doing downthere?" She rose on one elbow, leaning over him.

"Uh, no, well, yeah, I felt a little... not too good, I guess,"Sam stammered.

"Poor baby," she murmured, and pressed her lips against his jaw."Let me make you feel better."

"Jeez, Sam, do you have to be doing this every time I come in?" Alsounded annoyed.

Sam glared over Catherine's head and tried again to ease away fromher. She looked at him, puzzled.

"What's wrong?"

"I... nothing. What time is it?" Off-balance, Sam said the firstthing that popped into his mind.

"What time...?" She gazed at him for a moment before rolling overto look at her bedside clock. "Quarter of eight! Omigosh! Weoverslept!" Moving swiftly, she bounded out of bed and into thebathroom.

Heaving a sigh of relief, he looked upward and whispered a fervent"thank you" before sinking back against his pillow.

"Sam, you've got to learn to keep your hands to yourself," Aladmonished severely.

"My hands!" Sam expostulated. "What about her hands? They're allover me!"

"Oh, yeah?" Al shot an interested glance toward the closedbathroom door. "Too bad I'm a hologram. She could put herhands..."

"Al..." Sam's voice held a low warning.

"Okay, okay." Al waved his cigar in surrender. "I only came totell you that Ziggy says that it's now ninety-nine point threepercent sure that you're here to keep Catherine from marrying thisSteven guy."

"Does he have any suggestions on how I should do that?" Saminquired, trying not to sound impatient.

"No, but I talked to Dr. Beeks. She thinks if you just sort of dowhat you've been doing, and sort of distance yourself..."

"I can't distance myself much further without leaving, Al, and sofar, it's not working!"

"Yeah, I know. Well, keep trying. Meanwhile, Ziggy's diggingthrough all his psychology programs, looking for answers."

"You guys are a lot of help," Sam answered, exasperated, andclimbed out of bed.

As it happened, Steven and Catherine had classes together, whichmade it hard to follow Al's advice.

"Steven, are you sure you aren't coming down with something?"Catherine asked at lunch, touching the back of her hand to hischeek.

He flinched away, shaking his head. "No, I don't think so." Thelast thing he needed was for her to decide that his behavior was onlytemporary, brought on by illness. That wouldn't solve anything, andshe'd still end up marrying Steven. "Just a little headache."

She leaned toward him. "I'm sorry. Can I get you some aspirin orsomething?"

Affected by her proximity, he pushed his chair back abruptly. "Idon't want anything... I just need some space!"

He was aware of her wounded stare as he walked away, but madehimself keep going. He heard the characteristic sliding sound of thegateway Al used in the Imaging Chamber as Al fell into step besidehim.

"What happened, Sam?" Al asked, glancing back to where Catherinestill sat. "Is she mad at you?"

Sam shook his head sadly. "I don't think so, Al. She's just hurt,and worried about me. This isn't working."

"It has to!" Al insisted. "Vincent..."

"Look, Al, I don't want to hear any more about Vincent, okay?" Samrounded on his friend in frustration. "I've got to figure out someway to separate Catherine and Steven for her sake, not anybodyelse's."

"Okay, Sam, okay! Keep your shirt on!" Al said placatingly. "I'mjust trying to help!"

Somehow, Sam made it through the rest of the afternoon. Catherinecaught up with him outside Steven's last class, smiling at himuncertainly. "Ready to go home?" she inquired.

Her expression was vulnerable and Sam couldn't bring himself torebuff her. "Okay," he agreed quietly, and followed her to thestreet, where she hailed a cab. Taking his cue from her, he wassilent on the long drive to the SoHo apartment she shared withSteven.

Inside, she reminded him of their plans to dine with her father,and he rummaged through Steven's half of the small closet, pullingout a dress shirt and tie. He was just wondering if he should make astrategic retreat to the bathroom to change and allow Catherine someprivacy to do the same when she spoke.

"Is this okay?" She held a dressy, mustard-colored blouse underher chin for his inspection.

Behind him, Al offered his two cents. "No, Sam, tell her no! Sheshould never wear that color! It makes her skin sallow and washes outher eyes..."

Sam resisted the urge to give Al an incredulous stare; where didhe get off giving fashion advice? But he had a point -- Catherine hadlooked much prettier in the blue sweater she'd been wearingearlier.

"Steven!" She was growing impatient. "Is it okay?"

"Uh, no, Cath. I don't like that color on you. It doesn't lookgood." He reached past her, pulling an emerald silk blouse from hercloset. "Here, wear this..." His voice drifted away as he recognizedindignation flaring in her eyes. "That's it," he murmured aloud.

"What's it?" Catherine and Al asked, simultaneously. Catherine'svoice had an edge that Sam welcomed.

"Nothing," he told her. "I'm talking to myself." Turning, hetucked his chin into his chest and whispered, "Al!"

"Right here, Sam," Al answered. "What's it?"

"She doesn't like being told what to do," Sam whispered. "That'sthe key."

Al looked doubtful. "I don't know, Sam. I always say the manshould wear the pants in any relationship!"

"Yeah, and none of your relationships last very long, either," Sampointed out dryly.

"Yeah, well..." Al busied himself pushing buttons on his com-link."Ziggy says it might work. Then again, it might not."

"What does Dr. Beeks say?"

"I don't know. Gushi!" Sam winced as Al shouted in his ear. "FindDr. Beeks!" As Sam watched, he stepped back through the gate andclosed it.

"Steven, are you all right?" Catherine stood behind him, watchingwarily.

"I'm fine!" Sam burst out. "Okay? Stop asking!"

Hurt, she retreated a step. "I'm sorry. I just..."

Sam bit down on his instinctive apology. "You'd better hurry andget dressed," he said instead. "We'll be late."

Turning his back, he changed quickly; when he looked at Catherineagain, it was to find that she had ignored the blouse he'd chosen,exchanging the mustard blouse for one in bright pink and was justfinishing doing up the buttons. Her glance held just a hint ofdefiance before she looked away.

Sam turned his head so she couldn't see his smile; he hadundeniably hit a nerve and it encouraged him despite Al's doubts. Hejust needed to keep pushing.

A cab took them to a quiet restaurant where Catherine's fatherwaited. After hugging his daughter, he greeted Sam with coolcordiality, and Sam couldn't help thinking that Charles Chandlerdidn't quite approve of his daughter's fiancé.

Good, he thought as the maitre d' led them to a table. A hiddenally.

His first opportunity to be overbearing came quickly.

"A rum and Coke, please." She smiled at her father. "It's been along day," she explained.

Sam picked up the cue. "Should you, Cath?" he inquiredsolicitously. "Maybe just some wine would be better."

It worked. She shot him an irritated look, which he returned withone of innocence.

When the waiter came to take their order, she asked for a steak,and Sam intervened again.

"Are you sure?" he asked, careful to sound concerned. "You had ahamburger for lunch, and too much red meat isn't good for you."Fleetingly, it occurred to him to wonder if they were worried aboutcholesterol back in the early eighties, but it really didn't matter,because she was already bristling.

"I like steak," she answered through clenched teeth. Duringdinner, the talk turned to Charles Chandler's corporate law firm."You know, your office will be waiting when you graduate," he toldhis daughter fondly.

"I know, Dad," she replied. "You've been telling me that since Iwas fifteen." Looking down, she poked at the baked potato, swimmingin sour cream and butter. "I was thinking I might like to take sometime off after graduation."

Her father momentarily looked taken aback, and Sam leaped in. "Isthat such a good idea, Cath? I mean, your dad's counting on you tohelp him out..."

If looks could kill, Sam would be a dead man, and Charles hurriedto fill the breach. "That's all right, Steven. If Cathy thinks sheneeds some time off, we can get along without her a little longer."He gave her an indulgent smile before turning back to Sam.

"How about you, Steven? Have you given any more thought to joiningus?"

This was unexpected and Sam wallowed uncertainly. "Uh, no, sir,"he stammered. "I guess not." Remembering Catherine's earlier commentsabout Steven's not getting through law school if he didn't study, headded, "I'm just thinking about making it to graduation rightnow."

Charles nodded, and the conversation turned to other things. Whenthe dessert cart came around, Catherine fixed Sam with a fiercestare, daring him to challenge her, and he subsided without sayinganything. He didn't want her to kill Steven, just not marry him.

Al showed up during the frigid cab ride home. "Hey, Sam, how's itgoing?"

Sam slid his eyes sideways, indicating Catherine, who sat rigidlyon her own side of the seat, and gave a tiny shrug.

"Oho," Al observed, bending for a better look at her face. "Way togo, Sam, what did you do to her?"

Sam shrugged again. To anyone but Al, it would be evident hecouldn't speak.

"I've got to stick around for this," Al went on, oblivious. "Theremight be bloodshed." He seemed intrigued, rather than alarmed, at theidea.

He was waiting in the apartment when Sam and Catherine got thereand wasn't disappointed. The door was scarcely closed behind themwhen Catherine rounded on Sam.

"Don't you ever do that to me again," she snapped angrily. "Not infront of my father."

Not in front of her father. Did that mean that it was okay tocriticize her in private? Sam wondered. "I'm sorry, Cath," he began,trying not to sound too contrite. "I just want what's best for you.You know that."

She was not to be placated. "Don't patronize me! The only one whoknows what's best for me is me!" she retorted. Whirling, she stalkedinto the bathroom, and slammed the door.

"Boy, I don't know what you did to her, Sam, but it's sureworking!" Al said admiringly. "I haven't seen a woman that mad sincemy fourth wife..." He paused, counting on his fingers. "Yeah, fourthwife caught me out with this dynamite redhead..."

"Never mind that, Al," Sam said. "Is it enough? Did I changeit?"

Recalled from his memories, Al poked at his hand link. "Hmmm.Ziggy says not yet. Buthe's run your course of action through all hispsychology programs and thinks you're on the right track. Keep it up,Sam."

"Okay."

Catherine emerged from the bathroom dressed for bed and wentwordlessly to the couch and began to pull it out for sleeping. WhenSam moved to assist, she accepted his help in icy silence, and whenthe bed was folded out, she crawled in and closed her eyes.

"Well," Al said, grinning, "at least you can sleep safely tonight,Sam."

Looking at Catherine, curled rigidly on her own side of the bed,Sam had to agree. If nothing else, at least he could get a goodnight's sleep.

In the bathroom, he brushed his teeth, pondering briefly over oneof the worst parts about leaping &emdash; using someone else'stoothbrush. It didn't matter that the toothbrush belonged to theperson Sam was simulating; to him, it was still someone else's.

Once ready for bed, he went back into the other room, whereCatherine appeared to be asleep. He felt her stiffen when he easedinto bed beside her, and knew she was only pretending. He sighed,wishing there was an easier way to do this.

The portal to the Imaging Chamber scraped open beside him, and Alstepped through already talking.

"Listen, Sam, Dr. Beeks thinks she has this figured out. Itdoesn't make much sense to me, but she says that you should make amove on her, now!"

Incredulous, Sam pushed himself up on an elbow. "What?" hehissed.

"I know, I know, but Dr. Beeks swears it will work! Somethingabout making it apparent that Steven is only concerned with meetinghis own needs, not Catherine's." Al shrugged his ignorance. "I don'tget it, Sam, but maybe you ought to try it."

Rolling over, Sam looked at Catherine's tense shoulders andconsidered. It did have a certain kind of logic. Hesitantly, hereached out and ran his hand up and down Catherine's bare arm.

"Cath?" he whispered, trying to sound amorous.

"What?"

Either his message wasn't coming through, or she wasn'tinterested.

"Dr. Beeks says don't apologize for anything you did earlier,Sam," Al coached.

Sam moved closer and dared to kiss her shoulder. "Come on, Cath,"he coaxed, hoping this wouldn't backfire. "Let's make up."

"Steven, take your hands off me," she said frigidly, shruggingaway from his touch.

"Keep after her, Sam!" Al encouraged.

Sam replaced his hand. "Come on, Cath..."

"Tell her you know she wants it," Al shouted.

"You know you want..." Sam repeated without thought.

She didn't give him time to finish, as her temper snapped and sherolled to face him. "No. I said no! Damn it, Steven, I am sick andtired of everything having to be your way! I am..."

She was clearly furious, punctuating each word with a sharp jab tohis chest. In the background, Sam could hear Al exulting. "You didit, Sam! You fixed it! You saved little Albert!"

Sam barely had time to wonder what Steven would think about thetirade Catherine was delivering with enthusiasm when he leaped...

THE END