Something had changed. She wasn’t sure what, but no longer did she feel the oppressive fear that had plagued her since entering this house. Peace flooded her heart. She had always known God would make a way, but she felt affirmation of that now, although she still had no idea how that was going to come about. She closed her eyes, lay back against her pillow, and burrowed beneath the coverlet. This time no nightmares troubled her sleep.
Chapter 6
The last embers glowed orange-red, emitting a high-pitched whine as they wheezed for air. With just enough light from the dying logs to make out the outlines in the room, Jack’s eyes darted about. Something had awakened him, but he couldn’t tell what.
Throwing aside the blanket, he crawled from the bed to look outside his window. At some point during the night, snow clouds had gathered and were doing their best to cover everything. He stood watching the falling snow in the soft, blue light of the street lamp.
Pine branches bowed beneath the cumbersome load, their bare limbs encrusted in ice. The snow had fallen fast and heavy. He glanced at the digital clock, noting it was slightly after four a.m. He let the curtain drop and turned on a small lamp.
His movement obviously had disturbed the cat, as she jumped from the sofa and padded over, rubbing a figure eight around his legs.
“What do you want—it’s too early for breakfast. If you’re going to stay around here, you’re going to have to eat on my schedule, and we don’t eat until seven, hear?”
She meowed and continued to rub his leg. “Okay, as long as we have an understanding.” He bent down to scratch behind the cat’s ears while continuing to speak. “This snow changes everything—I needed to deliver that finished cabinet to Harris Street. That's not going to happen now.”
The feline flicked her tail letting him know it wasn’t her concern. She slowly licked her paw and rubbed it over the recently rumpled ear. It annoyed Jack how the cat seemed to feel the need to wash after being touched. He straightened and nudged the cat with his bare foot. “Fickle thing.”
Jack’s lips twitched when he thought of finicky females. It reminded him of Jewel. She presented herself prim and proper one moment, temper flaring the next. The entire situation felt surreal. He wondered where she was and what she was doing this minute. He doubted she’d be wandering the garden this morning, not with six inches of snow on the ground. The thought occurred to him that it might not be snowing her time. Then he laughed—her time! As if she was on a coast-to-coast delay—more like century to century!
But the more he thought about it, the more the thought intrigued him. How did it all work? Why were the times in which they interacted so random? What was the connection that brought both worlds together? If only they had some way to communicate. What if he could somehow get a message to her? A note! Something he could slip inside the book and leave for her. Of course, the book! There was no guarantee she’d find it, but it was worth a chance. He could leave the album upstairs in the room he believed to be hers. Grabbing a notepad and pen, he sat down at his desk to begin.
The words didn’t come easily; he started several times. Each attempt he wadded in a ball and sent sailing across the room into the trash. He didn’t want to sound foolish, and the last thing he wanted to do was offend her more than he already had. The concept of corresponding with someone from the past fascinated him. He was anxious to hear more about her life but thought it best to keep his words short and to the point in his first note.
He finished the letter, folded it neatly, and stuffed it inside an envelope, making sure to position the envelope between the cover and first page so that the corner stood out. Satisfied that she would see it, he rushed up the steps but stopped short with his hand on the latch. Better he should knock.
He rapped lightly on the door, and only after receiving no response did he turn the knob and enter. He stood in the doorway, gazing at the empty space, trying to conjure up the image Jewel described to him the night before.
He groped around for the light switch and waited for his eyes to grow accustomed to the garish light of the bare bulb. The room looked ugly and stark in the harsh illumination, but beneath it, Jack’s expert eyes saw potential. He ignored the long strips of peeling wallpaper and the tarnished wall fixtures. These were cosmetic.
The room itself was large. Off the main chamber was a smaller area, possibly used as a sitting room that contained the fireplace. He recalled the night before when he placed his hand inside the cold grate. It gave him a moment of pleasure to think Jewel had cared enough to try and stop him.
His eyes rested on the beautifully carved mantle. It stood exquisite in details rarely seen in buildings, let alone homes. He ran his hand along the finish, amazed at the craftsmanship. Dust from years of neglect had embedded itself in the grooves and had eaten away the wood. Even doing the work himself, Jack knew it would take years. Rather than feel discouraged, he eagerly looked forward to the challenge. He envied Jewel and the elegance of a time gone by.
Wiping the dust on his pajama bottoms, he walked to the window seat where she had sat the previous evening and placed the yearbook on the cushion. “Jewel, I hope you’ll find this. I’d really like to talk to you if you’re around.” He waited a few moments, unsure what would happen. After several minutes with no response, he had to admit that this . . . whatever this was, must not work that way.
Jack’s stomach rumbled—time for breakfast. He left the room and padded down the steps into the kitchen. There, he measured coffee, dumped it into the filter, pulled out a carton of eggs, a pound of bacon from the fridge and set them on the counter. Last night he’d been so caught up in research, he’d forgotten to eat; now he was famished.
He cracked five eggs in a metal bowl, whisked them into a froth and set them aside before peeling multiple strips of bacon from the package and placing them into the frying pan. The blue flame burned low under the skillet while he waited for the coffee to brew.
From the other room, he heard his cell ringing. It was probably Mrs. Christie calling to see if he was coming to make the delivery. He hoped not; she was rather long winded and he didn’t want his breakfast to burn. He jogged into the other room and checked the caller ID—Jeff.
Jack breathed a sigh of relief and scooped up the phone. “Hey man, what’s up?”
“We still on for today?”
“I don’t think so. I was going to put off the call until I saw what the weather was going to do, but I don’t think we should move the cabinet in this snow. We’re going to have to postpone. What’s your schedule look like?”
“Sorry, Jack. I won’t be able to help you again until this weekend. This was my only day off.”
Jack gave an inward sigh. He’d be hard-pressed to make Mrs. Christie wait that long. She wasn’t exactly the most understanding person, but he didn’t have a choice. “I’ll see if that works for her.”
“I didn’t figure you’d want to chance it in this weather. On to plan B for me. I guess I’ll slap a plow blade on the front of my truck and head out to make a little extra cash pushing snow. We’ll be needing it when the baby comes. Cindy’s hard at it in the kitchen making chili, and she wanted me to invite you over tonight. She doesn’t like the idea of you knocking around in that big house of yours all alone.”
Now there was a good woman. Always thoughtful, considerate, trying to make him feel like a part of the family . . . and constantly trying to fix him up. “Uh-huh . . . who’s on the menu tonight—a blonde, a brunette perhaps?”
“Are you serious? No woman’s coming out in this mess. They’re calling for at least six more inches. Lynchburg comes to a screeching halt at the first flake, you know that. No fix-ups tonight, honest. You know how she is with these hormones . . . she gets to thinking about you over there all alone and . . .”
“Yeah, yeah . . . feels sorry for the old man.” He flopped down in one of the soft chairs in his makeshift office and flung a leg over the armrest. He spotted his laptop and thought of the research he’d done
last night. “Jeff, can I ask you a question?”
“Sure, shoot.”
“Do you believe in ghosts?”
“. . .Ghosts?”
Silence. Jack could almost picture Jeff shaking his head.
“Man, you do need to get out of the house. Seriously, Cindy is setting another plate. We’ll see you at seven.”
“I don’t know, I—”
“Hey, don’t make me send over the munchkin squad.”
Jack laughed, picturing Jeff’s squirming little girls—pint-size replicas of Cindy. “Okay, I surrender. Seven it is.”
He pressed the button to end the call but made no move to put the phone down. A feeling of loneliness washed over him. Sure, he’d go over this evening, tussle around on the floor with the girls and play “Uncle Jack,” listen to a well-meaning lecture from Cindy on the importance of settling down and finding the right woman. Heck, he might even play a few games of pool with Jeff before climbing into his pickup and driving the lonely road back to his empty house—empty save for a woman who would be over a hundred years old. Maybe he was losing it. Maybe he was daft. His loud laughter in the still room added to his suspicions. Writing that letter to Jewel had been the most exciting thing he’d done since . . . well, he couldn’t remember, and that was just sad.
Jeff’s family had adopted him, just as they’d adopted the calico kitten, the mutt-terrier, and most recently, an abandoned baby duckling. He was sure he fit in somewhere high on the rung between the kitten and the terrier, but it wasn’t the same as having his own family to come home to in the evenings.
He liked the idea of having someone to talk to when he awoke in the middle of the night, or someone to argue with on which way the toilet paper roll should hang, or someone to nag him when he left the toilet seat up. These, of course, were all examples of his own home life and the incredible relationship between his mom and dad. Mom tended to be uptight, but Dad could always cajole her out of the worst moods. They seldom quarreled. He envied the romance they shared. Maybe that was why he refused to settle. The women Cindy set him up with were all beautiful, charming, and intelligent, but they all failed to fit that missing piece. He wanted magic. Although, he certainly wasn’t getting any younger.
Suddenly, the smoke detector chirped angrily from the kitchen. He leaped from the chair, sprinting toward the kitchen. A silver haze of smoke and charred bacon greeted his nostrils. “Well, Jack, that’s some magic,” he said to himself as he surveyed the burned remains of his breakfast. “That bacon is toast!”
Chapter 7
A pale patch of light fell across Jewel’s bed, bringing with it the dawn of a new day. Gray clouds outside her window failed to dampen her spirits. She uncurled her muscles with a delicious stretch of calm delight that previously was unknown to her since her arrival. Even the injuries upon her back seemed not to be as bothersome.
She sat up, bringing her feet to the floor, her bare toes feeling around for her slippers. It was then that she noticed the snow falling outside her window. She brought her hands together in delight, much as a child would do.
“Oh, how wonderful!” Jewel exclaimed, to no one particular. “It’s beautiful!” Snow had a way of transforming things, bringing hope and freshness. She pulled her Bible from the nightstand and sat at the window to read.
After several chapters, she stopped to watch the snowfall. She was deep in thought when she realized part of her gown had been covering her class album.
Her pulse skipped. Hadn’t the stranger disappeared with it last night?
She seized the yearbook from the cushion as if it might vanish. The abrupt movement caused the Bible to snap shut. In her haste to retrieve the book, a cream-colored envelope fluttered to the floor—her name scrawled across the front. She stared, afraid to pick it up. It was from him—she knew it. Her spine tingled. She hesitated; then reached out a trembling hand.
A sudden knock on the door caused her heart to slam against her chest. Her fingers snaked out, caught the fallen envelope, and shoved it back in her Bible.
She swallowed slowly. “Come in.” Her voice showed far more control than she felt.
Addie appeared in the doorway. “Morning, miss. I hope you’re feeling better this morning. I’ve come to help you dress for breakfast.” The buxom woman shuffled from one foot to the other.
“Do come in, Addie, dear. I was just finishing up. Something the matter?”
“I hate to intrude, but Dr. Wiltshire is anxious to get started this morn—”
“It’s all right, Addie—really, I was just about to dress anyway. I know you must have a thousand things to do to get breakfast on the table; if you’d rather go on, I can dress myself.”
“Uh . . . begging your pardon, miss, but Dr. Wiltshire said I was to make sure I helped you dress and he isn’t one that likes to . . .”
“Yes, yes . . . I do understand. Of course. I won’t be but a moment.”
Her heart raced inwardly, while, on the outside, she fluttered about the room in preparation. Her palms itched to rip open the letter. With a nonchalance she did not feel, she picked up the book along with her Bible and set them aside. It would never do to keep Hunsdon waiting. She hastily pinned her hair and selected a soft, sheer lawn-cotton gown of pale blue. It was one of her favorites with tiny embroidered details on the bust, cuffs, and hem. She had just laid it on the bed when there was another knock on the door.
“Come in,” Jewel called.
"Good morning.” It was Hunsdon and he smiled as he entered. For a moment, she could almost remember the man that had so charmed her during their courtship. “I came to see if you needed assistance this morning, my dear.”
“Don’t worry, Dr. Wiltshire. I’ll have her dressed and downstairs in no time.”
“I believe I’ve had a change of heart, Addie. I’m going to be away from my lovely wife for several days, and I’d enjoy nothing more than to assist her in the task of dressing this morning.” He stepped protectively toward Jewel and rested a hand on her waist.
Addie’s eyes flickered a moment before nodding. “As you wish, Dr. Wiltshire. I’ll just see to breakfast.”
“Thank you, Addie dear. We’ll be down shortly.”
Hunsdon waited until the door closed before turning to Jewel. They stared at each other, both understanding the reason he’d shown up in her room this morning. Addie must never see the telltale welts.
“Do get dressed, my dear, I haven’t all day. I have a train to catch, you know.”
“Yes, of course.” She stepped behind the dressing curtain, removed her silk wrapper, and donned her day dress. From behind the curtain, she watched as he moved from the center of the room to where her Bible and yearbook were. She felt helpless and stupid as he reached down and picked up the Bible as if to open it. Frantic, her mind screamed at her to do something. Think, Jewel, think!
“Hunsdon.” Her voice sounded strained, even to her own ears. “Can you help me?” She came from around the curtain feeling desperate and presented her back to him. She laughed to cover up the nerves. “Honestly, I can’t get all these silly hooks and eyes up the back.”
He paused and looked at her for an uncomfortable moment before returning the book to the seat. “Of course, my dear. But why must you insist on wearing this dreadful old thing? You have so many other frocks—I swear one day I’m going to clean that closet of yours and burn these drab things you call fashion.”
Jewel bit her tongue, making a conscious effort to level her voice. “Shall I change?”
His eyes dropped a degree as he cupped her elbow. “There isn’t time.” They walked down the steps together and into the dining room.
*****
A tall black man greeted them as they entered. His salt and pepper hair was brushed back and to the side. “Morn’n, miss,” Culpeper said with a slight bow. In his white-gloved hands, he bore a gleaming silver tray laden with bacon. He set it on the table. “Sho was dull around here without your smile. Yes’m, I'm glad you’re up and fe
el’n better.” He stopped abruptly when he saw the glare from Hunsdon.
“Thank you, Culpeper. I’m feeling much better.”
He looked a bit sheepish as he walked out and returned moments later with a pitcher of juice. “Freshly squeezed,” he said, holding up the glass. “I jes watched Addie squeeze it myself.”
“Of course.” Jewel smiled.
“Just coffee,” Hunsdon said. He unrolled the paper in a quick flick of his wrist.
For someone that claimed to be in such a hurry, Hunsdon ate with painstaking deliberation, chewing each bite with what seemed excessive thoroughness.
Outside the sheer curtains, Jewel could see the snow accumulating quickly. She forced herself to eat, although fear that he may wait too late and change his mind made her nerves raw. Hunsdon couldn’t tolerate wasted food. It was much to her relief when he finally placed his linen napkin on his plate, indicating he was finished and ready to have his plate removed.
Hunsdon unfolded his long figure from the chair and strolled over to the curtain. Pulling the drapery back, he seemed to analyze the problem of the mounting snow. “I’m assuming that the tracks are still clear as I haven’t received a telegram telling me otherwise. I suppose I will meet the train as planned. Come, my dear, walk me to the door.” Hunsdon held out his hand to her.
She rose and accompanied him to the door, glad that she had thought to wrap in her shawl this morning. The air had a distinct bite. The wind blew tiny crystals of snow from the porch and into the foyer. They swirled doing a sort of pirouette before landing with grace and melting on the carpet.
The horses pawed the snow anxiously, steam pouring from their nostrils. Snow was mounting over the spokes on the wheels.
Timeless Moments Page 4
