“Yes. His grandmother and his sister.”
“Then he’ll be back.”
Camille looked past her mother turning her gaze to the sky.
That was it. That was the piece she had been missing.
Bradley didn’t belong in New Orleans. He hadn’t had a reason, really, to be there.
It was only then that she remembered the words Madame Laveau had said as she was leaving. You beckoned him.
The words hadn’t made sense at the time and Camille had dismissed them, thinking she meant something literal like bringing Bradley to see her.
But, no, she had been telling Camille that Bradley was only in New Orleans to be with her.
And you.
He should be in Natchez with his sister and me.
And in that instant, Camille knew she was in the wrong place.
Chapter Fourteen
Bradley checked the clock on his dashboard and shifted in his seat. Driving had lost its appeal years ago – probably the first time he sat in the cockpit of an airplane. He’d been in college at the time. He couldn’t remember ever wanting to be anything other than a pilot. Even his Halloween costumes had been pilot uniforms. There was a picture in one his mother’s photo albums with him dressed as a fireman. He’d been a toddler at the time, though, so Bradley maintained that he hadn’t picked that one out.
And, of course, there had been the kites. Before he’d ever been airborne, he’d been fascinated by kites. He’d become quite good at keeping them in the air. Not that they were anything like keeping an airplane airborne. Nonetheless…
He turned down the long dirt driveway leading to his grandfather’s house and his headlights switched on. The drive was shaded by tall oaks creating a leafy tunnel. At the end of the half mile tunnel, the road opened up into a clearing where the house sat. It was nearly dark, but his grandfather was expecting him.
He’d left the porch light on.
Bradley pulled around to the back and parked his SUV. His grandfather met him at the back door. “It’s a long drive,” Jonathan said.
“You have no idea,” Bradley said, stepping out and stretching his back.
Jonathan chuckled. “I’m not so old that I don’t remember how trying a long car trip can be. I will admit, though, you have me spoiled. With you flying me to Monroe to visit your mother, I’m not sure I’d want to tackle the drive again.”
Bradley admired his grandfather’s tactfulness at not coming right out and asking why he’d driven instead of flying – especially knowing Bradley’s aversion to making long trips in the car. He pulled his suitcase from the trunk, took a shoebox from the passenger seat, and draped his new black leather Levenger saddlebag over his head before joining his grandfather.
Bradley lugged his suitcase upstairs and put the shoebox on the desk. He kept the somewhat heavy saddlebag which he wore cross-body style with him. If he’d learned one thing, it had been to be prepared at all times.
Going back downstairs, he stopped in the foyer and stared at the grandfather clock with the scar across its face, the pendulum swinging back and forth.
The clock was hundreds of years old, purchased by his ancestors and shipped over from France.
According to the legend, the clock had been purchased by Nathaniel Becquerel for his wife. There was some sketchiness in the records regarding his wife’s name. Nonetheless, the clock had been passed down as a symbol of love starting with Nathaniel.
Jonathan came to stand next to him. “You’re here to have another go at it,” he said.
“Yep. I guess I am.”
His grandfather nodded. “I thought you would. Gave up on New Orleans?”
Bradley shifted and gazed into his grandfather’s eyes. “What do you think about that?”
A sadness came over his grandfather’s features. “If I could find a way to your grandmother, I would do it. I wouldn’t question it. Never would have. I would have done whatever it took to be with her.”
“I… She…” Bradley closed his mouth. Did Jonathan know about Vaughn?
He couldn’t tell him. Not without having seen Vaughn with his own eyes. He blew out his breath. Even if he had seen her, he wasn’t sure he would put his grandfather through that torture. The torture of knowing that someone he loved lived, but in another time.
“If you make it back,” Jonathan said. “Tell Vaughn that I still love her and I’m still here. Waiting for her.”
Bradley gaped at his grandfather. He did know then.
“But she…”
“No,” Jonathan said. “I know she didn’t die. I helped her fake her own death. I don’t know if she’s still alive even… in the past. But if she changed her mind and wants to come home, I’m here.”
“You can’t go,” Bradley said.
“The spell is only for Vaughn and those who carry her blood.”
“I’m sorry, Granddad.”
“It’s ok. She made her choice. She had a reason.”
Bradley’s heart ached for his grandfather. “If I see her, I’ll tell her.”
Jonathan nodded and turned away. “I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me,” he said over his shoulder.
When he got to the door, he stopped, turned around, and came back to draw Bradley into a hug. “Just in case,” he said, keeping his eyes downcast. “Know that I love you.”
First his mother, now his grandfather. Apparently everyone expected him to go and never return. Maybe this was a bad idea. He’d struggled with his sister’s time-travel. When Erika didn’t return, it was as if she had died. He’d grieved. He was certain his grandfather and mother had grieved also. Now Bradley was putting through the same thing.
He went to the back porch, pulled his phone from his bag and pulled up Camille’s picture. And his pulse became steadier. This was the right thing.
His grandfather would have done it for Vaughn. Erika did it for Charles.
He would do it for Camille.
He only hoped she would have him.
Bradley moped around the house for three days. He knew he must look like a madman wearing his saddlebag across his shoulders. Jonathan didn’t seem to mind and no one else knew. He didn’t even shower for fear that he would suddenly travel through time and not have his things.
He even slept with it on him. At night he charged his phone with an external battery that he kept plugged in during the day.
What sane man would take a cell phone to 1838 anyway?
Nonetheless, he had very good reasons for everything in his bag – even his phone. He had pictures he wanted to show Erika, including a screen image of the article with the steamboat explosion. He wanted to be able to show it to her – anything to keep her from getting on that boat.
And there was the Tiffany’s engagement ring he’d selected to give to Camille. She would be a woman ahead of her time.
He walked the halls, stared at Camille’s photo, and spent countless hours standing in front of the grandfather clock, inexplicably drawn to its battle scared face.
He officially declared himself insane.
“Show me that again,” Erika said.
Camille glance over and the two women broke into laughter. Knitting, it seemed was not Erika’s forte.
It was certainly not from a lack of patience or skill of instruction on Camille’s part.
They sat out back, enjoying the fresh air. Charles was out riding in the fields, leaving the women to their own devices.
Erika stopped laughing and turned her head aside.
“What is it?” Camille asked, a feeling of alarm shooting through her.
“Nothing,” Erika said. “I must have eaten something that didn’t agree with me. I just had a wave of nausea.”
“That’s two days in a row,” Camille said. “Are you sure you’re well?”
“Of course,” Erika said, but Camille saw the concern in her new friend’s furrowed brow.
Mostly in an effort to change the subject, Camille said, “It’s going to rain.”
; Erika laughed. The weather was much too pretty to rain.
“No, I’m serious. See those clouds over there.” She pointed behind Erika at the growing black clouds.
“Well, that’s not fair,” Erika said. “I couldn’t see behind me.”
“Really?” Camille said. “It seems fair to me.” Camille smiled as she used the words Erika had taught her. Since she’d been here for several weeks, she asked Erika to use language from the future and if Camille didn’t understand something, she would ask. Erika was surprisingly adept at switching back and forth between the two time periods.
The wind began to pick up, but Camille welcomed the coolness. They knitted in silence for about thirty minutes, with Camille focusing on her own work to avoid laughing at Erika’s efforts. In truth, she was worried about her. She hadn’t felt well lately and had hardly eaten anything. They had been going for a walk each morning, but for the last few days, Erika had slept in instead.
In the weeks since Bradley disappearance, it seemed like Camille had been on a constant alert – always watching for him. She frequently glanced toward the back door, as though expecting him to appear at any moment. Erika did the same thing when Charles was in the fields.
When Camille thought about Bradley, however, she often inexplicably found herself watching the sky. She supposed it was due to his disappearance. She couldn’t think of any other explanation.
The rumble of thunder jarred them out of their contentment and they moved to the back porch. They had no more than sat down again when the rain started.
Camille sat holding her knitting in her lap, looking toward the sky. The rain always brought back an image of Bradley standing in the tavern - a red umbrella in one hand a glass of wine in the other. The image always made her smile.
At Erika’s soft gasp, Camille jerked her head back to her friend. Erika was staring at the back door as though she had seen a ghost. Camille followed the direction of her gaze and froze.
She didn’t dare blink.
Bradley stood in the open doorway, looking a bit dazed, a leather bag strapped across his shoulders.
Camille had thought about him so much she thought she must be imagining him.
But then she saw his eyes. His beautiful blue eyes.
She jumped up, the knitting needles clattering to the floor along with the yarn, and she ran to him, throwing her arms around him.
“It’s you,” she said, pulling back, running her hands along his arms.
He smiled back, taking her hands and squeezing as though he would never let go. “Camille,” he breathed.
Then Erika was standing next to them. He drew Erika close, hugging them both.
As they stood there, lightening crashed around them and the rain blew under the porch. “I think we should go inside,” Erika said.
“I’ll be right back,” Erika said, then squeezed Bradley’s hand. “Don’t go anywhere!” she said.
Camille led Bradley into the parlor where they sat together on the sofa. “You’re here,” she said.
“Finally.”
“What took you so long?” She asked.
“I had some things to take care of.”
“And did you get those things done?”
“I did,” he took her hand, squeezed.
“So you can stay?”
He chuckled. “I hope so. More than anything.” He pulled her close and her breath hitched as his lips touched hers.
Once their lips touched, they didn’t seem to be able to get enough of each other. Camille wanted to kiss him forever.
But then Erika was back. “Hey, you two. Get a room.”
Bradley started to stand up. “Okay,” he said.
“I’m kidding,” Erika said. “Talk to me first.”
Bradley rummaged into his bag. “I brought you something,” he said.
Erika grabbed the little black box with an exclamation of delight.
“What is it?” Camille asked.
“It’s a cell phone,” Erika said as she gazed at it.
“You told me about that,” Camille said. “But it won’t work, right?”
“Right,” Bradley said. “But it also has pictures on it. And…” he said, reaching back into his bag. “I brought something else.”
Erika’s eyes widened as he handed her a thin black book. “Oh my God! Is it?” She snatched it from him and ran her hand reverently over the back. She opened the cover and gasped, her eyes wide. “You brought an iPad,” her eyes teared up as she pressed her fingers against the screen. Camille peeked over her shoulder. It looked like the phone, only larger.
“What does it do?” Camille asked.
Erika wiped at her eyes. “You loaded it with romance novels.”
“Of course,” Bradley said, smiling broadly.
Erika suddenly looked distressed. “It won’t last long. The battery.”
“I brought a solar panel charger.”
Erika gaped at him. Then her face broke into a wide grin. “My brother the techno genius.” She set the iPad down and threw her arms around him. “I love you,” she murmured.
“I love you, too,” he said and patted his bag. “I brought the money this time,” he said, as she moved back to her seat.
Erika glanced up. “You don’t need money,” she said, tapping on the book.
“Now you tell me,” Bradley rolled his eyes.
“Bradley wants to be independent,” Camille pointed out.
“I was thinking I could buy a small steamboat and use it to transport things like people and cotton from local plantations and Natchez.”
Erika smiled. “You would think of that.”
Bradley grinned. “A pilot is always a pilot.”
Camille didn’t understand this exchange between brother and sister, but she didn’t need to. When Bradley met her brothers, he would have a similar experience.
“By the way,” Bradley said. “There’s an article I downloaded there that you need to read.” His voice was serious.
“Sure,” Erika said, her eyes still on the iPad.
“Erika,” he said. “Look at me.” She looked up.
“This is very important. Do not get on the steamboat Sultana.”
“Okay,” she agreed.
“It’s very important.”
“I won’t. I promise.”
Later that evening, after the rain had passed, and they had finished supper, Bradley and Camille sat outside on the porch swing.
“How long are you going to wear that thing?” she asked, indicating his leather bag.
He laughed. “I guess I can take it off now. If anything happens, you’ll keep it for me.” The money was no good in the future and Erika had commandeered his cell phone. He would have to get a new one if went back to the future.
“Well,” Camille said, a smile playing about her lips. “I have something for you.”
“Do you now? What is it?” he asked, moving to kiss her.
“Not that.” She reached into her skirt pocket and pulled out the silver pocket watch.
“I thought I’d lost it,” he said.
“I’ve been carrying it for you.”
“Thank you,” he said, kissing her then.
Lost in her kiss, Bradley had no doubt that he was where he was supposed to be.
Here, in 1838, he’d found his place.
And his love. “I love you Camille,” he murmured against her lips.
“I love you, too.” She sat back, suddenly, gazing into his eyes. “Will you stay?”
“I plan to stay. I don’t know how it works. But my heart is here.”
“Erika stayed.”
“She did and that gives me hope,” he said, running his thumb along her lips.
Her eyes closed and she leaned forward.
“Not even time itself will ever pull me away from you again,” Bradley promised.
Now that they had started kissing, Camille couldn’t get enough.
They kissed ALL the time.
Well, not all the time
. Erika made sure they had separate bedrooms.
What she didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her. At least that’s what Bradley had said when he’d tapped on her door the second night he’d been back.
She’d opened the door and took a step back. “Someone’s going to see you,” she whispered as he closed the door behind him and closed the distance between them. He gathered her in his arms. She liked the way her head tucked beneath his chin. And the way he held her close as though he would never let her go.
“Let’s go out on the balcony,” he said, taking her hand and leading her across the room. “The moon is brilliant tonight.”
He opened the French door and they stepped outside. He was right. The moon was bright tonight. And they sky was lit up with an endless array of stars. “Someday,” Bradley said, “we’ll be able to fly among the stars and land on the moon.”
“You’re teasing me again,” she said, but in her heart she knew he wasn’t teasing. He might be pretending to tease, but that’s how he told her things he knew she shouldn’t know.
He pulled back and looked in her eyes. “There is something I haven’t told you.”
“What?” She asked, her heart tripping. He looked so serious. Was he leaving now?
“You probably already know it.”
“Tell me anyway,” she said. “You can’t say that and not tell me.”
“Ok,” he said, taking both her hands in his. “I’m in love with you.”
Her heart soared to the moon. “I’m in love with you, too,” she said.
He dug in his pocket and pulled something out. She felt something cool slip onto her finger. He dropped to his knees in front of her and squeezed her hands to his. “Let’s get married,” he said. “Let’s do it now.”
“Oh,” she said. “Kay.” Her blood was pounding so fast in her ears, she could barely think. She’d imagined this moment so many times before, but never like this.
He tugged her to him and she was sitting in his lap. “Do you want to live here?” he asked. “Or in New Orleans?”
“You hate New Orleans.”
“I hate New Orleans in the future. Not so much now.”
“Not so much,” she echoed. Which meant at least a little. “Let’s live here for now.”
When the Stars Align Page 17
