by Kit Morgan
Lorelei glanced at Jefferson, who could only shrug. “All right,” she said. “But there’d better not be any sleepy drugs in it.”
Dallan’s face was a blank. “We’ll come fetch ye from yer room. We’ve taken the liberty of providing ye each with a change of clothes.”
Shona smiled. “Just be sure you’re changed and ready by eight o’clock, okay?”
Lorelei nodded. “Fine.”
The MacDonalds left to go speak to Doc and Grandma. “That was strange,” Jeff commented.
Lorelei laughed. “What about this hasn’t been? But it brought me to you – that’s what matters.”
He took her in his arms. “I love you, Lorelei Cooke.”
She sighed in contentment. “Mmmm … say that again.”
“I love you, Mrs. Cooke.”
“That’s even better.” She rested her head against his chest. “What do you think our wedding present is?”
“I can’t imagine. But with those two, anything is possible.”
She looked up at him. “You’re right. I hope it’s not some weird pet from outer space that looks like a Muppet.”
“Like a what?”
“Ugh. So many cultural references, so little time. I’ll explain later. Let’s go take our place at the head table – Mrs. Dunnigan looks like she’s ready to feed us.” Lorelei pulled away, took his hand and led them to their seats to share their first meal together as husband and wife.
* * *
Dunnigan’s Mercantile, present day …
Lorelei took a deep breath, grabbed Jeff’s hand, opened the door of the mercantile and stepped inside.
“Lorelei!” Mr. Jensen called. “There you are! And this must be that fine young man the MacDonalds told me about.”
Lorelei smiled at Jeff as he gawked at his surroundings, then at Mr. Jensen. “Yes, he is.” She held up her left hand and wiggled her ring finger, showing off her gold band. There was a slight commotion off to one side behind a display of Christmas decorations, but she ignored it. “Mr. Jensen, I’d like to introduce you to my new husband, Jefferson Cooke.”
“What?!” Cindy Crankshaw marched around the corner, took one look at them and Lorelei’s ring and snorted in disgust. “You’ve got to be kidding me!”
Jefferson’s eyebrows slowly rose. “What’s the matter with her?”
Lorelei patted him on the chest. “That’s what a jealous rage looks like, darling. But don’t worry, I’m sure she’ll get over it in a decade or so.”
Heather and Melanie came up, stared at Cindy, then at Lorelei and Jeff. Heather took a few steps forward. “Wow, you got married?”
“Yes,” Lorelei said with a smile.
Heather smiled back. “Congratulations.”
“What?!” Cindy snapped. “Don’t congratulate her!”
“Why not?” Heather fired back. “Geez, Cindy, don’t you think it’s kind of cool?”
“Yeah, none of us even knew you were dating.” Melanie studied Jefferson. “Are you related to the Cookes from around here?”
“If you are referring to the Triple-C Cookes, yes, I’m related,” Jeff confirmed. “Distantly.”
“Are you going to live at the ranch?” Cindy squeaked.
“No, we’re making our home in England,” Jeff explained. “Now if you’ll excuse us, my wife has things she needs to pick up.”
Lorelei smiled at Mr. Jensen. “I’m sorry I’m leaving without notice.”
“Oh, I understand. When Mr. MacDonald said you’d married a Cooke and that his work meant living elsewhere, well, who am I to get in the way of love?” He looked at Jeff. “You take good care of this girl. She’s mighty special to us.”
“To me too, sir,” he said.
Heather elbowed Melanie in the ribs. “Is that an English accent?”
She shrugged, unable to take her eyes off them. Neither could Cindy, but she wasn’t smiling like the others.
“We’ll head upstairs now.” Lorelei took Jefferson’s hand again and went through the curtained doorway. Once behind it she looked at him and smiled.
Their “wedding present,” as Dallan and Shona called it, was a weeklong honeymoon in her own time with her new husband. She didn’t know how it all worked other than Shona said they could return them to the exact time they left so they’d never be missed.
The MacDonalds took them from the Van Cleet hotel the night of their wedding, loaded them into a wagon, drove to Amon Cotter’s cabin and went to the same room she woke up in that fateful day. They refused to be drugged. Shona explained to Lorelei and Jeff that the … “transition into another time” would be bizarre, but they argued that so had the last few weeks, so what was the difference? The MacDonalds finally gave in but instructed them to look at the ceiling only. Period, no where else.
In the same commanding voice as before, Dallan said, “Shona, take us to Clear Creek.” Only this time he said something else in a language she’d never heard. There was a bright light that suddenly appeared, spiraling fractal rainbows neither she nor Jefferson could take their eyes off of and a feeling of pins and needles all over. The room shook as if in an earthquake. And Shona sang … well, it sounded like her voice was an orchestra, only half the instruments were from other planets.
Then after a minute or two, they were in the cabin from her time and Jeff was rubbing his eyes to get the afterimages to stop.
Jeff’s first taste of the 21st century was Kitty Morgan’s truck – they had to pull over halfway to town so he could get out and be furiously carsick. (Given Kitty’s driving, Lorelei almost needed to join him.) They’d gone back to the Van Cleet hotel – ironically, to the same room as in the past – rested up a bit, then come to Dunnigan’s so she could pack. Dallan promised to take them to the Triple-C later and introduce them to Titus Cooke, who also apparently knew Dallan was a Time Master. Lorelei wondered how he’d found out.
“Up there?” Jeff said as he looked at the stairwell.
“Follow me.” She led him upstairs, unlocked the door, went inside and stuck the key in her purse. She wasn’t surprised when Shona handed it to her before they left the truck. She headed for the back bedroom and went straight to the armoire.
“What are you looking for exactly?”
“You’ll see.” She opened it and did her best to open the bottom drawer. “It’s stuck.”
“It looks old.”
“It was new when I put it in here.”
“You were in the Dunnigans’ living quarters?”
“Yes, the day I got my two new dresses.”
He looked around. “To think that was what? A hundred and forty years ago?”
“That’s right.” She continued to tug. “But a week and a half ago for us.”
“Here, honey, let me try.” He gently waved her away, took hold of the handle and gave it a good pull, then another. It gave and he smiled in triumph.
“Showoff.” She pulled the drawer out, peeked into the dark space below it and reached inside. “Got it!” She stood with a yellowed piece of paper. She smiled at him as she carefully unfolded it. Tears filled her eyes when she looked at her own handwriting. “Proof.”
Jefferson peeked over her shoulder and read:
It wasn’t a dream. You were really there. And yeah, he’s super cute.
I’m falling in love with him. Jefferson Cooke is da bomb!
Lorelei Ingrid Carson, 12/22/1879
He wrapped his arms around her from behind. What is that supposed to mean?
Lorelei looked at her signature and the date. It means it’s true. It happened. And I fell in love with the man of my dreams.
But you called me a bomb. You’re going to have to teach me how people talk in this century. I’m afraid I’ll be lost otherwise.
You’ll be fine. She grabbed a few things out of the armoire, put them into the suitcase she’d placed under the bed when she first moved in, then closed it. I should show you the bookstore. I want to pick up a copy of His Prairie Princess. Then We should go see a
movie.
What’s a movie?
You’ll find out. Maybe we should just stream some instead. Preferably a Western – I don’t think you could handle Star Wars or Godzilla.
Godzilla?
She hooked her hands behind his neck. Imagine a hundred-foot lizard with Cindy’s personality.
I think I’d rather imagine kissing you.
Lorelei gazed into Jeff’s eyes and smiled. I think you can do better than imagine it.
As a matter of fact, he could.
* * *
Meanwhile, across the street …
“They’ve been in there too long. I should fetch them,” Dallan said.
“Let them have a chance to visit with Lorelei’s old boss. Don’t worry, they’ll be fine.”
He sipped his mocha. “I’m not sure I like this drink, Flower. Too sweet.”
She smiled at him. They were sitting in a small coffee place a few doors down from the museum. Or, in Jefferson’s time, the Waller’s house. She sipped her gingerbread spiced latte. “I like mine.”
He smiled at her. “Weel, this wee assignment turned out better than I planned.”
She gave him a flat look. “Oh, you mean the abduct the girl, abandoned her near her future mate, then hope for the best plan?”
“It was better thought out than that.” He smiled. “In fact, I think I’m getting the hang of this matchmaking business.”
“You’re not the one doing the matching, Dallan. You’re the one doing the delivering, remember?”
“Oh, aye, still, I could tell they were compatible.”
“Leave the matching to those assigned to do it. And you’ve only done it twice now, so don’t get cocky. In fact, I’m not sure we should count our first assignment considering how it went.”
“It was successful.”
“Really? Shall I ask Duncan Cooke if he thinks so? Or how about Cozette?”
He rolled his eyes. “They’ve thanked us enough for seeing it done.”
“Yes, for seeing they didn’t get killed, which almost happened!”
“So there were a few wee mishaps …” he said with a shrug.
“Dallan,” she said in warning. “Those were more than little mishaps.”
He gave her a grin. “Perhaps, but they did make things interesting.”
“Oh, you!” She picked up her latte. “Did Melvale give you our next assignment?”
“Aye.” He reached into the inside pocket of his jacket, pulled out a piece of paper and handed it to her.
She unfolded it and read, “Victoria Phelps, Stockton, California … 2020 …Human, and Sir Aldrich Barrow, 1877 … also Human.” She read further. “He’s in Sussex, England.” She looked at her husband. “That’s convenient.”
“Aye, and I can think of a certain duke and duchess we know that could help with this.”
“So long as said duke doesn’t slip Miss Phelps a cracker covered in drug-induced spray cheese, we’ll be fine.”
“Another wee mishap, but it did work,” he countered.
“Well, I think things will go smoother next time without the spray cheese.”
He smiled. “Aye, on that I’ll have to agree. But dinna worry, we’ll make sure she’s none the wiser.”
“When she discovers she’s in the year 1877 in England?” Shona laughed. “I can’t wait to see you pull that off.”
“Have ye no confidence in me, woman?”
She arched an eyebrow, sighed and looked at Dunnigan’s Mercantile across the street. “Maybe we should have told her.”
“That she’s part human and part yer kind, Flower?” He followed her gaze. “Nay, the lass couldna handle it. She was having a hard enough time with her heart bonding to Jefferson’s. Let them be for now.”
She nodded. “You’re right. Besides, she’s safe, surrounded by the best people in the world and in one of our favorite places.”
“Aye. She’s found her home in Clear Creek and more importantly, her family in the Cookes. Ye ken family is what she feeds her heart with.”
“Yes, I guessed as much. I do hope she gets along all right.”
“She’ll be fine. Besides yer father has a ranger watching over the town. He’ll keep an eye on her until they join Duncan in England.”
She nodded. “Well then, what should we do while we’re here for a week?”
He shrugged. “You tell me.”
“I’m from the 90’s, remember? There are things here I want to see.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know, gadgets. We should go shopping. I could ask Kitty along since she’s here with us. I’m sure she’s just as curious.”
“No! We’ll never have any peace. Besides, isn’t she working on another wee book of hers?”
“Yes, she is.”
He leaned across the table. “Ye did tell her to stop writing about our work, did ye no?”
“Um … yes.”
He leaned closer. “And?”
“She promised she wouldn’t write any more about what we do.”
“Including writing about the folks in Clear Creek and the town?”
She nodded.
He leaned back in his chair. “Good. I wouldna want her writing about this little adventure and turning it into a book.”
Shona gave him a sheepish look.
“Lass? Ye didna already tell her how everything turned out, did ye?”
“Um, well …”
Dallan ran a hand over his face a few times. “The lass is going to get us exposed one of these days or worse.”
“She won’t write a word. She knows better. Besides, how could she sugarcoat this story, what would she call it, Christmas with the Cookes or something?”
“I dinna care what she calls it. It’s what she puts in it that worries me.”
“Kitty will be fine. Stop worrying and finish your mocha. Then maybe we should go to a movie.”
He picked up his drink. “Remind me what that is.”
She smiled. “Maybe a Star Wars movie.”
“What’s Star Wars?”
Her smile turned mischievous. “You’ll see. Just remember how much you love me when it’s over.”
He looked into her eyes. I do love you, Flower. More than life itself.
She smiled back. I know.
The End
About the Author
Kit Morgan, aka Geralyn Beauchamp, has been writing for fun all her life. When writing as Geralyn Beauchamp, her books are epic, adventurous, romantic fantasy at its best. When writing as Kit Morgan they are whimsical, fun, inspirational sweet and clean stories that depict a strong sense of family and community. Raised by a homicide detective one would think she’d write suspense, but no, Kit likes fun and romance. Kit has plenty of both in her books. Books often described as Green Acres meets Gun Smoke! Kit resides in the beautiful Pacific Northwest in a little log cabin on Clear Creek, for which the fictional town from her Prairie Brides and Prairie Grooms series is named.
And yes, Kitty Morgan (Kit) has written about Dallan and Shona’s assignments. If you’d like to read Kit’s first book, His Prairie Princess, you can find it and Kit’s other books on Kit’s website, www.authorkitmorgan.com where you can also follow a link to Geralyn Beauchamp’s website to find out more about Dallan and Shona and the Time Master Series. Or follow the links below:
His Prairie Princess
Time Masters 1, The Call
Want to get in on the fun?
Find out about new releases, cover reveals, bonus content, fun times and more? Text Cooke to 22828
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