Spirit of the Ruins

by Jenny Lykins

  With his hand on the crude handle to the inner panel, he prayed the portal was still open. Would he open the door, only to face the adjacent, ancient pillars? Or would he step into the cellar and find himself in a time other than 1867?

  After a silent prayer, he pulled on the handle and peered around through the open crack. His head dropped to his chest.

  Relief swamped him at the sight of the cellar just as he’d left it, albeit missing a few of its contents.

  He wove his way among the crates and burlap bags, then crept up the stairs to listen at the kitchen door. Surprisingly, no sounds of activity came from the other side. He opened the door a few inches, scanned the cozy room, then squeezed through and closed the door behind him.

  If he could find Magnolia, she would tell him how Callen was doing.

  A low murmur of voices came from the front of the house. Ty followed the sound toward the parlor, checking out hiding places while he moved. As he drew closer, the murmurs turned into words.

  “This ring symbolizes eternity, with no beginning and no end…”

  A wedding!

  He’d heard those words enough in his career, he had them memorized. Was it Callen? Stephen? His heart thudded. No matter what he might have told himself, he hadn’t come back there only to watch her marry someone else.

  He flattened himself against the wall, then worked his way to peer through the slit where the open door was hinged to the frame.

  His heart crawled into his throat and his stomach turned over in a sickening roll.

  Callen stood beside Evan Hennessey, her hand in his, the back of her head facing Ty. A minister stood in front of them, with Stephen to the left and an older woman who had to be Hennessey’s mother to the right. A dozen or so men and women sat behind them. Some of the men Ty recognized from the first day Hennessey rode in.

  Ty rolled his head away from the sight. A film of cold sweat heightened his nausea.

  He swallowed hard and fought the urge to interrupt. This was for the best. She would have a husband. She could get Connor back. She could get on with her life and Ty could get on with his. He would finish raising Daniel, focus on his work.

  Determined now, Ty peered through the slit for one final look. Callen turned to face Hennessey, her gaze downcast to her outstretched hand while Hennessey slid a thin gold band on her trembling finger.

  Ty swallowed. His knees turned to jelly when she lifted her gaze.

  She was magnificent. Truly magnificent.

  And totally miserable.

  “I, Callen Marie McCall,” she said in a voice barely above a whisper, “do take thee, Tylar Mitchell Mc—”

  The room went absolutely silent. Ty watched her stare blankly at the center of Hennessey’s chest, her face draining to a milky white.

  He couldn’t watch any more. She would learn to love her new husband. Ty had to get out of there before his legs threatened to buckle.

  “Do take thee, Evan John Hennessey…”

  Ty shoved away from his hiding place and moved silently down the hall. He had to get back to his life; to normalcy.

  “To be my lawfully wedded husband…”

  Her voice cracked on the word husband. He could hear the tears in her voice. But she would be all right. She’d do okay.

  “To have and to h-hold…”

  If he could just get to the kitchen, out of range of her voice.

  “Stop!”

  At Ty’s shout, the room of people turned as one to stare.

  How he ended up in the doorway, he didn’t know, but there he stood, setting Fate on a whole new path.

  A half dozen gasps filled the air.

  “It’s Tylar McCall!”

  “He’s back!”

  “I thought he was dead!”

  “I’d heard he’d come back, but—”

  Stephen stepped forward, the veins in his temples bulging, his neck corded.

  “What is the meaning of this, you—”

  Ty ignored Stephen. His gaze held Callen’s. She stood there, rooted to the spot, her eyes glistening with tears that never fell.

  “Callen, I love you.” He shook his head, his hands outstretched in a hopeless gesture. “I’m sorry, but I love you.”

  Hennessey put his arm around Callen and drew her to him. She didn’t resist.

  “You are not welcome here, McCall,” Hennessey stated in a low, calm voice.

  Ty ignored him, as well as the gasps and murmurs filling the room.

  “Do you love him, Callen?” Ty nodded toward the man whose arm held her tight.

  Stephen ranted in the background, but Ty’s attention focused on Callen.

  “You will just leave me again.” Her voice shook with the words. “I could never bear a third time.”

  More gasps.

  Ty plowed his fingers through his hair.

  “She is a widow, you carpetbagging cur,” Stephen shouted. “And I have the papers to prove it!”

  Ty swung around to face her brother.

  “Nothing says I can’t marry her again!”

  There. He’d said it. He’d put it out there and he could never take it back.

  Strangely, after the initial terror of his words, he realized he meant what he said. He wouldn’t ever take them back.

  “I love you, Callen.” He turned back to meet her anguished gaze. “I’ll make it work. So help me. I’ll find a way to make it work.” And then he said the words he thought never to say.

  “Will you marry me?”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Callen stared at Tylar, numb.

  He wanted to marry her.

  A thousand questions rushed through her mind then. Where had he been? Would he leave her again? Had he recovered from his delusions? Could she go on with the farce of a ceremony and marry Evan after this?

  “Where have you been, Tylar?” she finally managed to ask, praying he would give her a reasonable answer.

  He looked around him at the crowd of now-silent, wide-eyed people, then brought his gaze back to her. He gave her an unwavering, uncompromising look.

  “You know where I’ve been.”

  So. Nothing had changed.

  Anger, sudden, hot, and explosive, boiled in her blood. These games were over. By heavens, she would force this man out of his delusions, or she would die trying.

  “Take me there,” she demanded.

  He blinked.

  “What?”

  “I said take me there.” She shrugged away from Evan’s protective arm and stepped toward Tylar. When he failed to take her to his future, perhaps then his memory, and reason, would break through.

  Tylar shook his head, studied the floor as if looking into the distance.

  “I…I don’t know if I can,” he said. “I’ve never tried to take someone with me. I wasn’t even sure if I could come back.”

  “Take me now,” she said, not allowing herself to waver. “If you want to marry me, you will show me where you have been.”

  “Callen, I forbid you to leave this house—”

  “Be quiet, Stephen!” She rounded on her brother. “You have run my life since the moment of your return. I am a grown woman, a wife, a mother, and” – she pointed to the sheaf of papers he’d pulled from his coat pocket – “according to those, a widow, as well. I can make my own decisions, and I will live the life I choose, not the one you have chosen for me.” She turned back to Tylar. “Well?” she said, a challenge in that one spoken word.

  “C’mon.” He grabbed her hand and pulled her to the door.

  The room erupted. Stephen and Evan shouted above the noise of the onlookers. Tylar pulled her into the hallway, stopped long enough to close the doors and wedge a chair under the knobs, then dragged her behind him as they ran through the deserted house to the kitchen.

  “All they have to do is open a window,” he said over his shoulder, “but it should buy us the few seconds we need to get away.”

  He threw open the cellar door in the kitchen, then closed it behind them
before helping her down the dark steps.

  “Tylar, I have walked through that passage a dozen times since you left” – she balked as he led her on, hating to admit her weakness – “ and I have only emerged at the front of the house.”

  “And you may very well again,” he said, weaving through the obstacles on the floor. “But you wanted to see the future, and this is the only way I know to get home.” The sound of shouts and running footsteps pounded across the floor above them.

  When they got to the open panel, he pulled her in beside him and closed them into the coal black darkness.

  “Hold my hand,” he said as his fingers skimmed along her arms to find hers, twining them together. “I don’t know if this will work, but maybe if we’re connected…”

  She heard the grinding, scraping sound of the outer door, then sunlight burst into the chamber, framing the dark rectangle with brilliant white light. Tylar pushed the door to the side and stuck his head out. His chin dropped to his chest for a moment, then he turned to her and grinned.

  “Welcome to my time.” With great care, still holding her hand, he helped her out of the tiny chamber.

  Callen stepped out of the base, then turned to look around her. Her knees buckled. Tylar caught her as she sank, then he lowered her to the ground.

  “My home,” she whispered, looking up at the towering, crumbling pillars, all that remained of her beautiful home. A dirt road circled at the side…what had been the side of the house. Stone benches sat under some young shade trees. A split rail fence cordoned off the columns. What had once been the front lawn now looked like a pasture fenced in with wire.

  Her hands flew to her mouth and she looked up at Tylar, tears burning her eyes.

  “When did this happen?” she asked, nearly choking on the lump growing in her throat.

  He knelt beside her, ran the backs of his fingers along her cheek, his eyes full of sympathy.

  “I don’t know.” He shook his head. “The records were destroyed in one of the floods.”

  She turned her head then. The river! Windsor had overlooked the Mississippi, with one of the most breathtaking views on the water.

  “Where is the river?” she gasped.

  He pointed west, his voice quiet. “Several miles in that direction. It changed course decades ago, after a flood.”

  She sat back onto the grass, astounded. Numb.

  “It’s true then,” she whispered, looking around. “Everything you said is true.”

  “Yes,” came his whispered reply.

  “Connor!” She scrambled to her feet and pushed at the crumbling stucco on the column base. “I want to go back! My baby is back there!”

  “Callen.” Ty took her hands in his and turned her to face him. “Calm down, now. Try and calm down.”

  She jerked away and shoved at the panel.

  “Callen, I’ll take you back if you want to go, but right now your brother and Hennessey are in no mood to talk. Stay here. Let me show you my time, and in a couple of days I’ll bring you back. Connor will never know you’ve been gone.”

  Callen dropped her hands, slowed her breathing, tried to think the matter through. Connor had just visited the day before – a concession from Stephen to ensure she would go through with the wedding. The mysterious couple had been instructed to take her son to Cedar Point in five days’ time, and though she hadn’t seen their faces, she’d heard Stephen give the order. Would he remember? Would he send a message to countermand his order? If she stayed here with Tylar, perhaps together they could form a plan to get Connor back.

  Tylar must have read her thoughts.

  “I’ll go back with you. I’ll force him to tell us where Connor is.”

  She looked up at him then, to that precious face she’d held so dear, and a sickening thought coiled through her mind. She sank back to the ground when her legs suddenly went limp.

  “You’re really not him, then,” she whispered, the words tearing at her heart. “If what you said is true, then you really are not my Tylar.”

  His melting bronze gaze searched the depths of her soul. She expected him to readily agree with her, with what he had insisted upon all along, but instead he shook his head.

  “I’m not sure who I am anymore.” He dropped to the ground beside her and took her hand in his. “I mean, I know I was born in this time. I had parents. I have a brother. But I’ve also had these strange dreams since I met you.” He glanced away, looked around at the columns. “The dreams are so real. Like memories instead of dreams.” He brought his gaze back to her. “And this whole thing…it’s as if I’ve been pulled to you.” He stopped then, as though something disturbed him. After several quiet moments, he took a breath and focused on her again. “And I dreamed of our…your…wedding night.”

  Blood raced from her neck into her cheeks.

  “Was Tylar…was he inexperienced when you married him?”

  The heat doubled in her cheeks. She had never even imagined having such a conversation.

  “I…” She glanced down at her lap. How did one answer such a question? “I’m not sure.” Her eyes widened. “Is there a way to tell?” she blurted before thinking.

  He blinked. His lips curved, and she had the feeling he was trying very hard not to laugh at her. She jerked her hand free and made a move to stand.

  “No! No, wait, Callen. I’m not laughing at you.” He grabbed her hand and pulled her back down. “It’s just that, in this day and age, there’s no innocence like that left.”

  She wasn’t sure if that was an insult or a compliment.

  “What I’m trying to say is, it’s refreshing. A welcome change from what society has come to be.”

  She settled back down, her feathers still ruffled, though, over being called an innocent.

  “I’m sorry,” he went on. “I just…I wonder sometimes if there isn’t a connection between Tylar and me. It’s almost as if I remember things from his life. Not every day memories, but life-altering times.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Did he arrive at Windsor with his father? In a wagon?”

  Callen nodded, the picture of that sad little boy springing to mind.

  “That’s when he fell in love with you.”

  Now her lips curved, but she shook her head in denial.

  “Tylar never loved me,” she said quietly. “Perhaps as a very good friend, but nothing more.”

  Ty, as he called himself, took her face in the palms of his hands, held her gaze as he looked deep into her soul.

  “He loved you,” he said with absolute certainty. “I love you. We both fell in love with you the first time we laid eyes on you.” His lips brushed hers and her heart tumbled in her chest. “Maybe this is a second chance for us,” he whispered against her lips. “Maybe I did live as Tylar, and this is our chance to finish our life together.”

  Her heart soared, like a golden eagle on a gust of wind. Oh, this is what she’d dreamed of; prayed for. She leaned into him, drank of his kiss, a kiss that tasted of Tylar, had the feel of Tylar. He’d brought her to the future. Nothing was impossible. And in that moment, without a second thought, she gave her hopes and dreams into the hands of this man who had come to her across the decades.

  His lips left hers and she opened her eyes to meet his gaze.

  “How…how did we get here? I walked through this column so many times in the past weeks. Why did it work with you?”

  He shook his head. “I don’t know. Maybe we were meant to be together. Maybe you pulled me to you. We’re soulmates, Callen. We were meant to be together.” He smiled, a tender, awe-struck smile, as he ran his fingers across her lips. “Can I show you my world now?” he asked in a voice filled with the love she’d thought never to hear.

  She took a deep breath for courage, looked around the eerie grounds one more time, then gave him her hand and nodded.

  *******

  Pierre Chalmers waited in the dark. He knew the man would return, just as he knew the woman and her husband were no longer in this time.
He’d been right to do what he had when they were children. He’d “seen” that death would separate them before their time, so he had given them the means to reunite. A small thing for two children who had been kind to an old man.

  He smiled. They had brought him lemonade.

  A horse’s hooves thudded up the dirt path, then came the muffled footsteps of his expected visitor. The man tried to tread quietly, but even had he floated through the air, Pierre would have heard his arrival.

  “Come in,” he said as the man skulked outside the open door.

  “I cannot abide the way you do that,” the man growled. The breeze carried the familiar stench of liquor into the small cabin.

  Pierre shrugged. “I care little for what you can abide.”

  The man didn’t order a candle lit this time. At least he had ability to learn.

  “He’s back,” the shadowy figure said.

  Pierre nodded. “And gone again, with the woman.” He let the silence stretch for a moment. “The liquor will not change the past.”

  A quiet, quickly muffled gasp came, and then a small cloth bag dropped onto the table in front of Pierre with the dull, metallic clink of gold.

  “This is all I have,” the man said. “I will bring you more. Just tell me how to be rid of him.”

  Pierre shoved the gold back toward the man.

  “Perhaps you do not learn as quickly as I assumed, monsieur. I will not help you in this matter.”

  The man thought about violence. Pierre could feel it in the very air. But he merely stared at the dark silhouette and dared him to put his thoughts to action.

  Just as Pierre knew he would, the man swore, then stomped out of the cabin and into the waning night.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Callen brushed bits of dried grass from her skirts, taking her time, suddenly terrified at the prospect of what Tylar…Ty proposed. Did she have the courage to go forth with him and face a time more foreign to her than a new land?