Distant Dreams

by Jenny Lykins

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Alec knocked on the door, then banged when she didn’t open it immediately. A shadow in the windows moved through the dim light of the oil lamps, then the knob turned and the door swung inward.

  She stood there, her long loose hair haloed by the lights, her gown unbuttoned at the neck. She made no move to button it even though his gaze lingered longer than it should have.

  “What do you want, Alec?”

  The righteous anger that had vanished at the sight of her returned.

  “Why did you leave while I was gone? I told you there was no need to move here.”

  She simply looked at him.

  “Is this going to be a long argument? Should I make myself comfortable?”

  “Shaelyn, there is no need...”

  She turned and strolled back into the parlor, then flopped onto the couch and propped her feet on an ottoman.

  He followed her in and slammed the door.

  “Shouldn’t we leave the door open, for propriety’s sake?” she questioned.

  “Damn propriety!”

  “Okay,” she agreed pleasantly, using more of her damned odd verbiage.

  “I insist you come back to the house, Shaelyn. You have no business here alone. And you left while I was gone, like some sort of...of...”

  “I left while you were having lunch with your future wife. I left because I found myself caring for you, falling in love, wondering what would happen if you fell in love too and we lived happily ever after. I left because it was going to hurt too much to stay there and watch you and your first love make plans for the future.”

  Any argument that Alec had vanished like a mist in the breeze. Her words formed a fist that squeezed his heart.

  “I thought when you kissed me like you did,” she said, “that maybe you cared for me, too. That you felt a little of what I was feeling. Were you kissing a fool, Alec?”

  She gazed up at him, waiting for an answer.

  “No,” he finally said. They stared at each other, separated by more than a few feet. Separated by more than a woman who was his first love.

  Shaelyn sighed, then rose and walked to the door.

  “I’m going to check on Samuel,” she said. “Close the door on your way out.”

  *******

  “Well, you’re looking perky.” Shaelyn forced an upbeat tone when she walked into Samuel’s room. He turned a weak smile on her.

  “Then it is good that I don’t look like I feel.”

  “Oh, c’mon. You’ve got to feel better than you did when we dragged you off the beach. And you’re talking without coughing. Probably out of self defense. You got tired of our one-sided conversations, didn’t you?”

  His chuckle turned into a cough. She poured a glass of water, but he got his breath under control.

  “What little of your monologue I remember was very entertaining.”

  “What little you remember? That’s no way to flatter a girl, Samuel.”

  She wanted to keep him talking. Wanted to keep her mind off of what she’d told Alec. She’d known he wouldn’t argue with her if she told him how she felt. What she hadn’t bargained for was how much it would hurt to say the words aloud.

  “Well, now tell me, have you been behaving yourself? No wild parties or anything while I’ve been out?”

  He smiled indulgently.

  “Did Molly stop in to check on you?”

  “Yes. She insisted on feeding me some broth. A true treasure. Are the two of you related?”

  “I’m a friend of the family.” She’d already introduced herself as Shaelyn Sumner. Alec and everyone seemed to have adopted the story about her being a family friend, and she saw no reason to tell him differently. Personally, she found it hard to believe they’d contained the news of Alec’s marriage. William must truly be a tyrant to be able to stop gossip.

  “What part of the South are you from?” he asked.

  Shaelyn smiled and shook her head. She’d never be able to pass for a Northerner.

  “I’m from near Baton Rouge. But I spend several weeks each summer up here. And how about you? I’d guess that to be a Georgia accent.”

  Samuel’s brows arched and he nodded, obviously surprised at her accuracy.

  “I grew up near Atlanta, but I live in the city of New York now.”

  It was Shaelyn’s turn to be surprised.

  “What’s an Atlanta boy doing in New York?”

  He coughed, and she gave him a sip of water. When he caught his breath, he leaned back against the pillow.

  “I am a third son, and my father believes in the eldest inheriting. I tried my hand at several things, but I have finally found what I love. I run a small newspaper in the city.”

  “You’re kidding. I’m a journalist,” she blurted without benefit of thought.

  His lips curved into a smile and he closed his eyes.

  “You have such a unique sense of humor.”

  Shae sighed at such a typical comment.

  “Thank you, but that has nothing to do with my being a journalist.”

  Samuel’s eyes opened to weary slits, but a bit of a smile lit his gaze.

  “I didn’t mean to offend you. I fear I never thought of someone writing for women’s periodicals as a journalist.”

  She bit the proverbial tongue and gave him a sugary sweet smile.

  “I write for newspapers. Mostly human interest stories.”

  “Indeed?” he lay his head back on the pillow and closed his eyes. “Would I have read you?”

  She clenched her teeth and stifled a healthy curse. Of course he’d never read her. And he’d never believe she had things published around the world. She doubted he’d buy her story about sending articles via email, fax, telephone.

  “Probably not.”

  He nodded, his eyes still closed, as if to say, “I thought not.”

  “Why don’t you let me write an article for your paper?” If Alec had the ring cut off and she stayed in 1830, she would need some way to make a living. Maybe this was her chance to network a little.

  Samuel pried open both of his eyes and looked at her, as if determining whether or not she was joking. She just stared at him.

  “Miss Sumner, our publication is rather radical. We do not print ladies’ recipes and household hints.”

  “Good, because I don’t write recipes and household hints.”

  He sighed and his head sank back into the pillow.

  “Very well,” he said. “Write something and I will look at it.”

  She tried not to let her anger get the best of her. It didn’t take a mindreader to know that he was humoring her because she’d saved his life. Her anger wouldn’t put food on the table if she found herself stranded there.

  She tucked the covers up to his chin, closed the window against the chilly evening air, then turned down the oil lamp.

  “I’ll have something for you tomorrow,” she said, then shut the door when a gentle snore answered her.

  She halfway hoped that Alec would be waiting for her when she went downstairs, waiting to smooth things over and put things right. But the only person who greeted her was Martin as he made his evening rounds.

  “Good evening, miss,” he said in his ever-formal tone.

  She tossed a, “Hi, Martin,” over her shoulder, then escaped out the back door. She wasn’t in the mood to talk to anyone but Alec, and she wasn’t even sure she could have talked to him.

  As she let herself into the cottage she noticed that he had obligingly shut the door behind him. Somehow that symbolized how he’d shut her out of his life. She was just an embarrassing mistake to be dealt with. A little legal snafu that would be ironed out quietly and then forgotten.

  “Stop feeling sorry for yourself, Sumner,” she chided as she shut the door behind her. “That’ll get you nowhere, and you have a story to write. And stop talking to yourself.”

  She lit a lamp on the small desk, pulled out paper and ink from the drawer, then fumbled with the s
tupid quill pen, trying to remember how she’d dipped it into the ink.

  What she wouldn’t give for her trusty old fountain pen. What had happened to it? She closed her eyes and tried to remember.

  Had she dropped everything again when the ship lurched? Had she held on to it and left it in the cabin?

  When a shiver rippled through her in the chilly room, she stoppered the ink and went upstairs to find a shawl. Margaret had draped one of beige cashmere across the back of the rocker. Phillipa’s shawl.

  Shaelyn wrapped the soft fabric around her and sank down on the bed with a sigh. She didn’t even have her own clothes here. Suddenly everything hit her at once. Fear of staying in the past. Fear of going back and never seeing Alec again. But there was no reason to stay if he was married to someone else.

  She missed her parents and her friends. How would her parents take it when they found out she was missing? Did they already know? Was time passing there at the same rate? They would be frantic. Devastated. Brianne would be worried sick.

  The foreign feeling of tears burned at the back of her eyes. She blinked them away but they came right back until her eyes filled with them and spilled over onto her cheeks. She wiped them away but they continued to flow, hot trails that chilled against her skin. She finally let herself cry, let all the anguish and fear she’d been hiding finally come to the surface. She missed her parents, her friends, her job. She missed jumping into her car to go places. She missed her telephone and her laptop. She missed Diet Coke and microwave popcorn. She wanted to run a hot bath and soak without turning it into a chore for three or four servants. She wanted her own clothes. She wanted to wear jeans again.

  She curled into a little ball on the bed and let the tears flow. She cried for all she missed and for all she would miss if she went back. She cried at forever being torn between two worlds. The tears came, hot and free, until her chest heaved and her head ached. She searched her pocket for a handkerchief, then cried harder at not having Kleenex that she could throw away. She cried over everything reasonable and unreasonable, and when she ran out of things to cry about she fell asleep to live it all again in her dreams.

  *******

  Alec leaned back in his chair at the shipping office and rubbed the back of his aching neck. He seldom used his office in town, preferring to work at home, but he’d taken the coward’s way out this morning, not sure he could face Shaelyn if he ran into her.

  Though it shouldn’t have, her declaration of how she’d grown to care for him had shocked him. Left him speechless. His heart had soared, then tugged in two directions as he thought of Shaelyn and then of Faith. Shaelyn was all fire and fury and a wild ride on the waves of a Nor’easter while Faith was a gentle wind on a tranquil, smooth sea. To his utter amazement he found he sorely missed the roll and pitch of Shaelyn buffeting his life.

  He’d taken a walk during the night, unable to sleep as her words tumbled in his mind. He’d found himself outside the cottage, staring at the lace-curtained windows, watching for her silhouette moving in the glow of the oil lamp, but nothing stirred within. He’d stood there a long time, thinking about marching up to the door, barging in, kissing her senseless. But then he’d think of Faith. Sweet, serene Faith who didn’t tell outlandish stories of being from the future.

  Where was Shaelyn truly from? Obviously the south. More than once it had occurred to him that she might be a spy working to put an end to the underground railroad. If that was the case, why had she helped him with Robert and Naomi? Why hadn’t she turned him in? Was she biding her time to find out more information?

  He sighed and scrubbed his eyes with the palm of his hand. He couldn’t believe that she was a spy, yet he couldn’t allow himself to ignore the possibility.

  He focused his attention back on the line of numbers in the ledger. He had too much work to do to spend time dwelling on something he could do nothing about at the moment. He wanted to finish going over the books before he met Faith at Windward.

  He ignored the little voice that pointed out how empty that left him feeling.

  *******

  Shaelyn stayed sequestered in the cottage all day except to go and work on Samuel. She thought he sounded better, but to be on the safe side she still pounded on him three or four times a day. Until he could breathe easily and really showed improvement she thought it best not to stop.

  Molly had left her alone, but made her promise she would have supper with her. Alec and Faith had plans so Molly and Shaelyn would have the house to themselves.

  Shae all but dragged herself up the path to Windward. She hadn’t slept well the night before, she’d struggled all day with the article for Samuel, and her eyes were still puffy from crying all night. What she really wanted was to go to bed and sleep for a week. Working on Samuel was taking its toll on her.

  When she stepped through the trees and into the clearing surrounding the house, she groaned and almost turned back.

  Faith stepped down from her carriage, her gaze instantly finding Shaelyn. The perfectly gowned woman gave a hesitant smile and waved as the driver pulled the carriage to the back.

  Shae couldn’t very well ignore her. She waved back and trudged on toward the house.

  “How are you?” she asked as she walked up to the waiting Faith.

  “Oh, I am fine. And you?”

  “Fine, fine. I’m on my way to check on Samuel. I’m running a little late, so if you’ll excuse me...”

  She headed up the steps, but Faith put her gloved hand on Shae’s arm.

  “Please don’t take offense, but you look exhausted. Can Molly or one of the servants not help you?”

  “I can’t seem to find a servant who can get the knack of what I’m doing, plus they have so much of their own work. Molly checks in on Samuel all the time, but I’m afraid Alec would have a fit if she crawled around on the bed with him, pounding on his back.”

  Faith smiled and seemed to relax a little.

  “I daresay he would. Would you like some help right now? I’m a bit early and I don’t believe Alec has arrived yet.”

  Shae blinked in surprise, not quite certain of what to say.

  “I nursed my husband for months during the illness that finally took him. I helped to care for my grandmother, as well. I’m not at all squeamish.”

  Shaelyn finally managed to utter the word, “Sure.”

  Faith nodded and they climbed the front steps and entered the house. While Faith took off her gloves and hat and left them on the hall tree, Shaelyn ventured a comment.

  “I didn’t realize you were a widow. I’m sorry about your husband’s death.”

  As they climbed the steps to Samuel’s room, Faith smiled calmly and shook her head.

  “It was a blessing in the end. He suffered so. And though the marriage was arranged, I did learn to care for him.”

  Did no one marry for love in this day and age?

  When they entered the bedroom Samuel lay propped on a stack of pillows, looking out the window.

  “All right, troublemaker,” Shaelyn teased, “You’ve been so much work, I had to bring in reinforcements to help. Samuel, this is - ”

  “Mrs. Baldwin!”

  “Mr. Smythe!”

  Shaelyn stopped and looked at the two of them.

  “Mrs. Baldwin?”

  “My married name,” Faith explained.

  “You two know each other?” Shaelyn asked, though obviously they did.

  “I met Mrs. Baldwin and her husband on a business trip to Boston,” Samuel said. “I was the recipient of their hospitality for...for...” He erupted in a bout of bone-jarring coughs. His face turned the color of fresh blood and what little breath he could catch came in wheezes.

  Faith calmly poured a glass of water and gave it to him in little sips.

  “Mr. Smythe stayed with us a week while he interviewed Thomas for his newspaper.” She tilted the glass with all the cool efficiency of a nurse. Obviously she’d dealt with sicker patients than one trying to cough up a lung
.

  Once Samuel regained control of his breathing he sank back into the feather pillows, now as white as the linen surrounding him.

  “How is Thomas?” he wheezed with some effort.

  Faith fussed with the covers. “He passed away over a year ago. He became ill not long after your visit.”

  Samuel reached out his hand and touched Faith’s.

  “I am sorry. I had not heard.”

  Faith merely nodded with a sad little smile and continued to straighten the covers.

  “Well.” Shaelyn drew their attention away from the awkward moment. “Faith has offered to help me beat you up tonight.” Samuel gave her a weak smile. “So we’d better get busy before Alec shows up and Molly comes and drags me to the dining room.”

  Faith immediately grasped the knack of cupping her hands and percussing his back. Shaelyn let her do the work, helping only when Faith had a question. When she finished working on one side, the exquisite angel of a woman hiked up her skirts and crawled across the bed as if she’d been doing it all her life.

  As much as she tried not to, Shaelyn found herself liking this woman.

  By the time Faith finished, Samuel’s eyes drooped with exhaustion. Faith fluffed his pillows, covered him, asked if he needed anything, then she and Shaelyn slipped from the room. Before she shut the door, Shae pulled the folded article from her pocket and left it on the bedside table.

  “There you are. I was just coming to fetch you. Oh, hello, Faith.” Molly waited at the top of the stairs, then the three of them descended together. “I didn’t realize Alec had gotten home.”

  “I don’t believe he has,” Faith said. “He hasn’t come looking for me.”

  “Then you must have supper with us. I vow the aromas are making my mouth water.”

  The delicious scents wafting from the kitchen reminded Shae that she’d worked through lunch. Her forehead throbbed with a dull hunger headache.

  “He is more than an hour late, Faith. Something must have held him up, and he wouldn’t want you to go hungry.”

  Faith insisted she would wait for Alec, but after fifteen minutes or so, she gave in to Molly’s pleadings and they adjourned to the dining room.