Finding Your Love (A Town Lost in Time Book 2)
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Finding Your Love
Bess McBride
Finding Your Love
Copyright 2019 Bess McBride
All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to the publisher and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.
Cover art by Tara West
Contact information: bessmcbride@gmail.com
Published in the United States of America
Dedication
For Les who shared our discovery of brick pavers buried in the mud of a town lost in time
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Foreword
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Books by Bess McBride
About the Author
Foreword
Thank you for purchasing Finding Your Love. Second in a series of time travel romances called A Town Lost in Time, Finding Your Love is set in mystical Washington State at the turn of the twentieth century. Here’s a bit about the story.
Deep in the forests of Western Washington, near the majestic dormant volcano called Mount Rainier, lays a small town that exists only in history. Partially submerged by a lake and largely buried by mud, weeds, grass and trees, Kaskade is lost in time. Unable or unwilling to die its natural death, Kaskade comes to life over a hundred years into the future on the summer solstice, hoping to capture new life for the town.
Not everyone who is taken will stay in Kaskade. Most of them return to the future on the next summer solstice. Who will Kaskade take next? And will they stay?
Emily Alexander is on the run from a domineering man when Kaskade discovers her. Luke Damon doesn’t know about Kaskade’s quirk of stealing people through time. When he finds out the truth about Emily, he is appalled and revolted by that which he cannot understand. Jefferson Lundrum knows all about the time travelers, and he welcomes Emily with an open and warm heart.
Emily doesn’t want another relationship. Neither Luke nor Jefferson is in her future. Kaskade, though, has other ideas for Emily.
For those of you wondering, this series is based on a real lake. I’ve changed the name to facilitate the use of literary license in this work of fiction.
Thank you for your support over the years, friends and readers. Because of your favorable comments, I continue to strive to write the best stories I can. More romances are on the way!
You know I always enjoy hearing from you, so please feel free to contact me at bessmcbride@gmail.com or through my website at http://www.bessmcbride.com.
Many of you know I also write a series of short cozy mysteries under the pen name of Minnie Crockwell. Feel free to stop by my website and learn more about the series.
Thanks for reading!
Bess
Chapter One
As Emily Alexander wound her small blue sedan along the curves of a quiet road, she caught sight of a shimmering lake through the trees on her left. The setting sun glowed with a rosy hue on the snow-capped peak of the majestic mountain that presided over the lake and reflected in its still waters.
“Mount Rainier,” she whispered aloud, slowing the car to enjoy the view of the mountain and lake beyond the tree line.
When Emily had left Seattle a few hours ago, she’d had no idea where she was going. At some point during her drive, Emily had decided on a road trip to Mount Rainier...or farther south to parts unknown. It didn’t matter. Just so long as she was gone.
She wasn’t sure she was leaving Seattle—and Carl—forever. She just knew she was leaving for a while. She had told her employers that she was going on an extended road trip to parts unknown.
As she crawled along the isolated road admiring the scenery, her car started to cough and sputter, as it had occasionally over the past month. It had died on her several times before, but Emily had always managed to restart it. With a check of her rearview mirror, she pulled her car over to the shoulder of the highway just in case. Sure enough, the car died.
She twisted the key in the ignition, and the engine sputtered again but failed to start. Scanning the road in both directions, she saw no traffic. She tried starting the car again several times, but it simply wouldn’t start.
Emily sighed and scanned her surroundings. The road stretched ahead to the west with no buildings in sight. On her right, a densely forested hillside rose up from the road. She looked left across the road toward the lake and the mountain beyond. Colorful wildflowers erupted in riotous glory along the edge of the asphalted road, presenting a panoramic scene of extraordinary beauty.
She supposed she ought to call her roadside service, but she truly wasn’t in any hurry. Night would fall soon, and that was fine. She felt safe and free in her beautiful little spot. She was off the road, the area was quiet, the road less traveled. She had autonomy and could make her own decisions, and she decided she felt fine. Her longtime relationship, Carl, would have expected her to check in by that time of day, and she had not. Nor was she going to.
Movement in the rearview mirror caught Emily’s eye, and she stiffened. Carl couldn’t possibly know where she was, as she had disabled the tracking program he had installed on her phone. He’d said it was for her safety so that he could watch over her. She hoped he hadn’t installed any other tracking devices on her phone that she wasn’t aware of.
Emily drew in a deep breath to steady her nerves, but relaxed the tightness in her shoulders at the sight of the small dilapidated green truck that had pulled up behind her car. Carl drove a sporty black SUV.
An older man in a red ball cap, baggy blue jeans, dark suspenders and a once-white shirt got out of the truck and walked toward her, his gait slow, his posture stooped. He looked as if he’d worked hard in his life and was paying the price.
He seemed harmless, and she was fairly sure she could outrun him if need be, so Emily opened her door and stepped out to greet him.
“Are ya broke down?” he asked. Faded blue eyes regarded her from an angular unshaven face. Though
his shoulders sagged, he still seemed quite tall.
“I am,” Emily said. “I was just going to call my roadside service. Maybe they can tow the car to the nearest town, and I can pick up a rental car.”
“Orting is the nearest town, back up that way.” He pointed in the direction that Emily had driven, and she recalled the small quaint town.
“They’ve got a small garage there, but I don’t think they have rental cars. Want me to take a look at the engine? See what I can see?”
“Really? Sure!”
“Pop the hood,” he said.
Emily opened the door to pull the hood lever and then followed the elderly man around to the front of her car. He lifted the hood and secured it before peering into the engine. He moved his hands over things—tugging, adjusting, pulling and tightening.
“I don’t see anything particularly wrong here,” he said.
“The car has been dying off and on for the past month. I should have taken it in to the shop before now, but I stalled...and here I am.”
He turned his head and pursed his lips together.
“Yup, here ya are.”
“Yup,” she agreed.
He pulled a blue print kerchief from the back pocket of his jeans and wiped his hands. Emily could have sworn she was in a 1950s movie.
“Well, I don’t guess there’s anything I can do to help with the car. Do you have a roadside service or something?”
“I do. I’ll call them in a bit. I was just admiring the view when you came along.”
He followed her eyes.
“Yeah, Lake Kaskade. Nice view.”
“It is. It’s just beautiful!”
“Yup,” he said, stowing his kerchief into his back pocket.
Emily thrust out her hand. “Thank you so much for stopping.”
“Can I give you a lift somewhere?” he asked.
Out of the corner of her eye, Emily spotted what appeared to be stone steps buried under old leaves nestled into the side of the hill next to the road.
“Are those steps?” she asked. “Built into the hill?”
The man looked at them.
“Sure are. They lead to the old school.”
“Old school?”
“The old school at Kaskade. There used to be a town here, but it’s gone now.” He looked over at the lake. “Ran from up there on the hill all the way down to the lakeshore. Took up the entire northern side of the lake. Had almost a thousand people in its heyday.”
Emily looked down at the lake.
“You don’t say. Where did it go?”
“Died out,” he said. “Ran out of timber. I know that’s hard to believe when you see all the trees around us, but these are all fairly new, probably not even a hundred years old. I used to work for the timber industry around here.”
“How does a town die out?”
“Oh, there’s lots of old ghost towns here in the Northwest, especially near the old logging towns. People move away, find jobs somewhere else. The power company in Tacoma was going to flood the town to make a reservoir back in the forties, so they burned down most of the buildings. I guess you can’t really burn concrete though, can you?” He nodded toward the steps. “They never did build that reservoir though. Didn’t need it. Found water somewhere else. Still, the town is gone.”
He clicked his tongue and looked at the steps again.
“Well, I’ve gotta get going. Sorry about your car. You sure you don’t need a ride somewhere?”
Emily followed his eyes. The stairs leading to nowhere beckoned to her. She could explore while she waited.
“No, I’m fine. Thank you so much for your help.”
“Can’t say that I did anything, but you’re welcome.”
Emily thrust out her hand.
“My name is Emily Alexander, by the way.”
He looked down at her hand and took it into one of his roughened palms.
“Pete Petterson,” he said.
“Pete Petterson?” she echoed with a crooked smile. “Did your parents really name you that?”
He lifted a corner of his lips, the first time she had seem him smile.
“No, it’s a nickname. My grandfather had the same nickname.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Pete. Thank you again for stopping to help me.”
“No problem,” he said, turning away. Emily watched him climb back into his little truck. He pulled out and waved as he passed. No other traffic had passed them in the time they stood on the road, reinforcing the seclusion of the area.
Emily climbed back into her car and pulled her wallet out from her purse. She found her roadside service card, called the company and gave them her location. When they asked where the car should be towed, she hesitated.
“Your plan covers up to a hundred miles of towing,” the friendly female on the other end of the line said. “Your records show that you reside in Seattle. The tow truck driver can give you a ride back to Seattle.”
“No, I don’t want to go back, not yet,” Emily said quickly. “I can’t go back.”
“I’m sorry?” the representative asked.
“Nothing. I just... I’m on a road trip. I don’t want to go back. Is there an auto repair service nearby?”
“I can look that up. Just a minute, please.”
Through the windshield, Emily studied the steps burrowing into the hill. Largely buried under years of leaves and flanked by an overgrowth of trees and bushes, they begged to be investigated.
“Miss Alexander? There is a garage about ten miles away that does auto repairs. Would you like to have the car towed there?”
“Is it north or south?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“I don’t want to head north for any reason. South would be better.”
“Yes, ma’am. From your location, the garage is south. The town is Eatonville.”
“Okay, I’m not sure where that is, but south is good. So I’ll wait here, right?”
“Yes, ma’am, just as long as you’re safe. The driver estimates he’ll be there in thirty minutes.”
Emily looked at the steps again.
“Thirty minutes. I’ll be here.”
Emily dropped her phone back into her purse, left the keys in the ignition and got out of the car. She had changed into a T-shirt and black yoga pants when she left work that afternoon, and she had no pockets to carry things. As quiet as the area was, she doubted someone would steal her car in the next few minutes. She rounded the front of the car and walked up to the base of the hill.
Given that the steps began in an awkward placement about midway up the hill, she assumed the area had been regraded at some time in the past for the asphalted highway.
She looked down at her black canvas walking shoes, then at the dampness of the hill. With a shrug, she clambered up the hill to reach the steps. Placing one foot on the first moss-covered tier, she tentatively put her weight on it. Solidly embedded into the earth as it had probably been for over a hundred years, the concrete step held.
Emily’s excitement grew as she looked up. She couldn’t see where the stairs led, but she was determined to find out. Moving forward, she ducked her head to avoid leaves from the low-hanging branches of trees that had reclaimed their territory.
A thick carpet of wet leaves muted her steps, and she emerged onto a fairly level surface. Thick moss-encased concrete foundation walls rose from the ground, dotting the thin woods. Trees pressed against the foundations, and Emily couldn’t tell if they were pushing the walls out of their environment or protecting them.
Stepping carefully through the leaves, as she didn’t know what was beneath them, Emily approached one of the walls that appeared to be about three feet high and two feet wide. She didn’t know much about building, but if the thick foundations dotting the woods had supported a school, it certainly hadn’t been a one-room wooden shack.
More green than gray, dense moss covered the tops of the walls, spreading halfway down the sides. Emily touched the green g
rowth with a fingertip. Wet, spongy and cool, it had made itself at home on the concrete.
With a sense of time passing, Emily knew she should return to the road to wait for the tow truck driver, but she lingered, resting her hand on the wall. She spotted more foundation walls a short distance away, giving her the impression that the school had been very large indeed.
“You must have been huge,” Emily said aloud, giving the top of the wall a last pat. “I can see you don’t want to give up, do you?”
Thankfully, the foundation didn’t answer. She wouldn’t have been surprised if it did. Frightened, but not surprised. The wall seemed to be a living, breathing thing, and for some reason, she was reluctant to leave it.
“I gotta go,” she whispered. “The driver will be here soon. You keep on standing,” she said. She bent over and pressed her palm flat against the side of the wall where moss hadn’t yet reached. The concrete itself was cold, hard, sturdy.
Suddenly lightheaded, Emily’s knees buckled. She clutched at the wall with both hands to brace herself, but finding no hold, she toppled over into a cloud of leaves. Darkness descended.
Chapter Two
Luke set his lantern down on the stair landing and turned to lock the school’s third-floor side door behind him. He picked up the lantern and descended the iron stairs with care. Darkness had descended on Kaskade, and he hadn’t realized how late he had worked. Only the rumbling of his stomach had made him check his watch to discover that it was well past eight o’clock. He hoped that Martha Lundrum would have some leftover dinner available at the boardinghouse.