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we can use for our return.”
    “Well, yeah.”
    Obviously he remained unconvinced, but he had promised to hear her out and was true to his word. “All right. And the should?”
    Elizabeth sat forward. “You feel it too, Simon. I know you do. It’s the right thing to do. It’s dangerous. It might even be crazy. I’ll admit that. But that doesn’t change the fact that there’s a man who needs our help and a woman who deserves it.”
    Time for the trump card. “If positions were reversed,” she said. “If Evan saw a picture of you or me trapped in the past, injured and lost, what would you want him to do? Would you want him to say it wasn’t his business? That it wasn’t worth the risk?”
    Simon stared at her for a long moment and then set down his wine glass. Finally, he stood and walked over to the window. “I think you know the answer to that.”
    She joined him at the window. “Then is it right to expect to receive what we aren’t willing to give?”
    She put her hand on his arm and urged him to turn around and face her. “We’ll be all right.”
    “You sound awfully certain.”
    “I am. It’s one of the pleasant byproducts of being delusional.”
    Simon laughed briefly and then grew serious again. “This isn’t so simple.”
    “I know. But it’s the right thing to do, and we both know it.”

Chapter Five
    The next several days were a flurry of research, argument and planning. Simon hadn’t been pleased that she’d brought the watch with them to England. When she’d explained that it wasn’t something to be left lying around, especially not with a Council that Should Not Be Trusted lurking about, he’d agreed, reluctantly.
    When it came to the research, Simon was deep in his element. He’d learned quite a bit from his last experience preparing for a trip back in time. He prepared a list of items they’d need including: passports, identity cards, and ration books.
    Despite how exacting the records from the period were, there were still blind spots - little things like bombing raids. It certainly wouldn’t be anywhere near as dangerous as London during the Blitz when the Nazis bombed England for nine months straight and the city itself for 57 consecutive nights. 1942 wouldn’t be half as bad as the later period of the war, when the Nazis resumed bombings with doodlebugs and V-2s. It was a relative lull, but there was no way they could tell when and where each and every bombing raid took place. In the end, they had to be satisfied with a good idea of what sections survived unscathed. If they stuck to them, they should be all right.
    Clothing and other supplies were fairly easy to come by. Even forging documents of the period was simple enough. National identity cards were readily available on eBay and collectors and replica makers had every bit of ephemera they could possibly need including passports, travel papers and War Department Identity Cards. Manipulating them to add their real names and photographs was simple enough.
    They’d just returned from a shopping excursion when Elizabeth noticed a large vase overflowing with yellow and white roses on their front doorstep. She carried it inside as Simon took their packages into the study.
    “Should I be jealous?” Simon said.
    “The question is, should I?” Elizabeth handed him the attached notecard. “It’s addressed to you.”
    Simon sat down behind the desk. Elizabeth put the vase on a side table.
    “They’re from Aunt Victoria,” he said. “A peace offering.”
    Elizabeth rearranged a few of the flowers and pricked her finger on one. “With thorns. Now, that’s what I call passive-aggressive.”
    Simon laughed. “Are you all right?”
    “As long as they haven’t been dipped in poison.”
    Simon got up from the desk. “ Let me see.”
    Elizabeth held out her finger. Simon examined it with excessive care and rubbed her hand gently before kissing her palm. “Does it hurt?” He kissed the inside of her wrist.
    Her cheeks