Now and Forever: Time Travel Romance Superbundle

by Bobby Hutchinson

  Paige swallowed a mouthful of turnip and plunged straight in. "So, Dr. Baldwin, whatever made you decide to come all the way from Charleston to Canada and join the North West Mounted Police?"

  For an instant, she thought she saw pain in his expression, but it was gone before she could be sure. His gray eyes flitted across her face and settled on the endless clotheslines filled with laundry that formed a backdrop to the small screened porch.

  It was several moments before he answered, and then his voice was noncommittal. "Why does anyone join the Mounted, Miss Randolph? We're all seeking adventure in the great North West, aren't we?"

  He wasn't getting off that easily. "I'd have thought being in the Civil War would provide adventure enough for a lifetime. And you're a long way from home. Don't you miss your family?"

  Memories of her own brother and her nephews, of Sam and the clinic, of the patients she'd left behind haunted her. Surely he must be lonely too? Did he ever visit the South? He was fortunate. At least his relatives were inhabitants of the same century.

  "I have no living family, Miss Randolph." His tone was cool and dismissive, and she couldn't detect any hint of emotion on his handsome features. "Most of them died as a result of the war." She felt like a nosy child who'd had her knuckles rapped.

  "I'm sorry." Her voice was soft, apologetic. "That must have been a horrible experience for you." She knew she probably shouldn't go any further, but for some reason she needed to know about him, so she threw caution to the winds. "Were you married? Did you have children?"

  She thought he wasn't going to answer. A long, charged silence hung between them, and his spare features seemed carved from stone. When he spoke, his voice was taut, controlled, but she could sense the grief behind the abrupt, choppy sentences.

  "I was married once, yes. My wife's name was Beth. I'd known her all my life. We married after the war." He drew in a ragged breath and expelled it. "We'd been married five years when she became pregnant for the first time." He cleared his throat and lifted his water glass to his lips, swallowing before he went on. "It ended in miscarriage, and Beth hemorrhaged to death. Our baby boy died with her."

  She felt the utter horror of it in the blank spaces between his words, saw the effort the words cost him in the bleak, flat pain in his gray eyes, the careful stillness of his features.

  "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have pried." Her own eyes filled with tears and she reached across the table blindly to take his long, surgeon's hand in her own. His skin was icy cold, and she could feel the bunched muscles in his arm. "I'm a nosy bitch. I am sorry."

  His faint smile held no humor, and he didn't reply.

  After a moment, she withdrew her hand from his, bending her head over her dinner, becoming self-conscious and busy with her knife and fork.

  "And you, Miss Randolph?"

  His cultured, drawling voice slid into the silence that had fallen between them. She looked up at him, surprised. He was in control again, turning the tables on her.

  "Do you have a family waiting for you back there on the West Coast? A husband? Children, perhaps? Or maybe just a beau? Or do women still have beaus in your time?" His cool gray gaze was fixed on her face, watching her closely, waiting for her answer.

  She knew he was thinking of that first night, when she'd told him where and when she'd come from. They hadn't discussed it again, but now he wanted to know if she'd tell the same story. He was testing her. This time she was careful in her choice of words.

  "No significant others, which is what beaus have become in my time, Doctor. And as for family, I have only one brother, Tony, living out here in Saskatchewan. He's married, with two little boys. He's younger than I am by a couple of years. He has a farm, quite a large one."

  He nodded, still watching her with an intensity she refused to let bother her. "And will you be joining him and his family on their homestead in the near future, Miss Randolph?"

  She felt tears rising again in her throat, and she fought them. If he could be this cool and detached after talking about his lost family, then damn it, so could she.

  "I don't believe so, no," she drawled. "At least, not right away. Not—not in the foreseeable future, anyway." She looked straight into those inscrutable gray eyes. "You must realize there doesn't seem to be any way for me to get back to where I came from. At least, no way I can think of." It hurt in every fiber of her being to admit it.

  He didn't question her further, and it was a relief.

  "You're planning on staying in Battleford, then."

  "Yes, I am." It dawned on her that he actually thought she had a choice. The incongruity of that might have been funny, but she didn't feel like laughing.

  He'd paid her for two weeks the day he hired her, 16 dollars that had felt like riches to her. She now had six dollars left, after paying Lulu and buying a few absolute necessities.

  Six dollars didn't really leave her a hell of a lot of choice about staying in Battleford, she mused with a bitter taste in her throat. And anyway, wherever she did go, she'd still be trapped in the wrong century, wouldn't she?

  "Have you considered setting up a medical office in the town, Miss Randolph?"

  "Of course I have." His polite question both surprised and irked her, because it was one she'd pondered again and again without arriving at any solution. She was furious with him all of a sudden. "Look, I'm sick to death of this Miss Randolph thing. Can't you break down and call me Paige? And surely you have a first name as well, don't you, Doctor? Where I come from, we just aren't this formal, and it makes me crazy." One eyebrow raised again, and he gave her that long, enigmatic look. Finally he cleared his throat. "I do have a given name, as a matter of fact. It's Myles."

  "Well, what a relief. Now, Myles, here's the problem with me considering setting up a medical office in the town." She deliberately mimicked his formal, dry tone of voice. "There's a few little things I haven't quite figured out what to do about. First, I have no office, no instruments, and very little money. Second, I have no idea what medicines are prescribed or even available at this precise point in history, having learned my trade in a foreign land, so to speak." She stopped for a moment and added in a different tone, "And finally, judging by the reactions I get from most people, being a woman in this era and establishing a medical practice are mutually exclusive." "Not necessarily." His gaze was earnest. "You could treat only women, Paige. Some of them come to me, but I'm sure they'd be more comfortable consulting a woman doctor. And as to medications, I could give you guidance."

  Before Paige could answer, one of the constables on ward duty stuck his head out the door, eyes popping and face faintly green.

  "Come quick, sir. Abbot's throwing up and having convulsions at the same time. And there's shit all over them blankets we just changed—"

  Myles swore and hurried after the constable.

  Paige followed at a slower pace, thinking about his surprising suggestion and his generous offer to teach her about medications.

  Every time she thought she understood him, Myles Baldwin managed to surprise her.

  And for the first time, he'd called her Paige.

  Six days later, Lulu Leiberman looked down her perky nose at the rent money Paige was proffering, but she didn't reach out and take it. Instead there was malicious satisfaction in her shrill voice. "Sorry, Miss Randolph, but I don't think this arrangement's suitable any longer. You'll have to find another place to live."

  Paige gaped at her. "Another place to live? What on earth are you talking about? I don't understand." She tried to figure out which of Lulu's strict rules she might have broken, but for the past weeks, she'd hardly been around the boardinghouse except to bathe and sleep. Now, however, the epidemic was over; Myles had told her last evening that he no longer needed her help.

  She'd been expecting it; there were only three patients left in the hospital, and no new cases of fever had occurred for days. Still, it was a letdown. She hadn't realized how much she'd enjoyed the backbreaking work until it was over.<
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  She'd awakened this morning without the sense of purpose that work at the fort had provided, but at least she had enough money to give her some breathing space. Myles had been more than generous, insisting on paying her a bonus.

  "You have to leave," Lulu declared. "That's all there is to it. I run a respectable place here, and I can't afford to have my good name compromised. Mr. Raven has twice seen you escorted home after dark by different policemen. Now whatever's going on up at the fort is your own business and none of mine—I wasn't one ever to meddle in other people's affairs—but there's talk. And I've got my living to earn."

  "Talk about what, for God's sake?" Paige had the most overwhelming urge to reach out and slap the smirk from Lulu's plump face.

  Lulu was enjoying herself. "Well, they're saying around town that you're a scarlet woman, Miss Randolph. Up at the fort every day with all those men, and you claiming to be single and all, and then not home till after dark. Two of the townsmen saw you up there, said it was a disgrace, you in the hospital with all those half-dressed men. It's not proper." Lulu's lips pursed into a tight, prim little knot.

  "But I told you in the beginning that I was a doctor, and you know about the epidemic. I explained that I was working with Dr. Baldwin. Would you like me to bring him down here and have him explain our work to you, perhaps?"

  Paige was being sarcastic. She'd die before she dragged Myles Baldwin into this.

  "Don't you get snippy with me, Miss Randolph," Lulu snapped. "I told you in the beginning I didn't stand for goings on."

  "Goings on? I was working my ass off to make enough money for rent. Look at my hands, for God's sake, they're wrecked from that cursed carbolic. Damn it all, this is ridiculous."

  "Such language, Miss Randolph." Lulu pretended shock and horror at Paige's profanity.

  "Language, hell. It's unfair of you, tossing me out without notice." Paige suddenly had a flash of inspiration. "Well, Lulu, I'm certainly going to mention to Rob Cameron that you threw me out without so much as a week's notice. And he thinks so highly of you too."

  As she'd hoped it would, mentioning Rob had an immediate effect on Lulu. Paige suspected Lulu had plans for herself and Sgt. Cameron—plans Paige was fairly certain poor old Rob knew nothing about.

  "Now, you hold on, Miss Randolph. This is business between you and me," Lulu sputtered. "No need to involve Sgt. Cameron." With great reluctance, using the tips of her fingers, the landlady reached out and took the three dollars Paige still held. "I'll give you one week's notice, Miss Randolph, but that's that. I can't afford to lose my good name; even you must understand that."

  Paige ignored the insult, even though she felt as though she were about to explode with frustration and rage.

  "One week and I'll be gone. You can count on it." She turned on her heel and strode out of the kitchen, her hands aching to take Lulu Leiberman and shake her until every tooth rattled in her nasty head.

  Now and Then: Chapter Seven

  The persistent knocking finally sifted through the heavy cloud of sleep holding Paige prisoner.

  "Miss Randolph? Miss Randolph, wake up in there." Lulu's shrill voice was muffled by the door, but the thumping of her fist echoed through the dark room. "Open this door, Miss Randolph."

  Paige's long nightshirt had tangled around her legs, and she struggled with it as she rolled out of bed and staggered toward the door.

  She groped for the doorknob and remembered it was locked. She turned the key and swung it open.

  Lulu stood gripping a sputtering candle, her blonde braids hanging down her back and her robe clutched around her neck.

  "There's some man at the door who says his wife needs you, which sounds a likely story to me," she snapped.

  It was obvious that Lulu was not amused.

  "It's three in the morning; I hope you're aware of that." The landlady's eyes were puffy with sleep, and her tone was nasty.

  'Two more days're all you've got left here, and the end of the week can't come any too soon for me, let me tell you."

  She turned and huffed her way down the stairs. Paige snatched up a shawl and followed.

  "This is scandalous," Lulu was griping. "Strange men banging my door down, waking all the boarders in the middle of die night."

  "Just put a sock in it, would you, Lulu?" Paige ignored the landlady's harrumph of outrage and stared at the man waiting at the foot of the stairs, his battered brown hat clutched in his hand, his eyes filled with stark terror.

  "Theodore Fletcher, what is it? What's the matter?"

  Paige hadn't seen the Fletchers since that fateful first day on the prairie, but she'd kept in touch with Clara through Rob Cameron. Rob visited the Fletchers whenever his regular patrols took him near the area where they'd chosen to homestead, a choice tract of grain growing farmland about 20 miles west of Battleford.

  "I'll take ye out to visit them on my day off," Rob had suggested, and Paige had been planning to accept his offer. Then she'd started working at the fort and hadn't had time.

  "Miss Paige," Theo said now, his voice hoarse with emotion, his words tumbling out one on top of the other. "Miss Paige, Armand LeClerc at the fort sent me here. He said you'd be able to help my Clara. She's been took bad for almost two days now, the midwife says she needs a doctor bad. The baby—" He gulped and struggled for control. "The baby won't come. Clara's sufferin' somethin' awful. I couldn't stand it anymore. I came for Dr. Baldwin but he's been gone since yesterday afternoon. Appears a man shot himself in the leg over at Bresaylor settlement."

  Theo sounded close to panic, and Paige put her hand out and squeezed his arm in sympathy.

  Theo swallowed hard and added, "LeClerc sent a rider right away to tell the doc to come to my homestead, but it's certain he won't make it in time."

  A feeling of awful helplessness overwhelmed Paige. What could she possibly do for Clara without medicines, an operating room, instruments?

  "Will you come, Miss Randolph? Please? I've got a team and a wagon outside."

  She couldn't refuse. "Of course I'll come. Just let me get dressed. I won't be a minute." She tried her best to sound reassuring, but inside she was sick with dread.

  The ride in the wagon across the dark prairie was frightening. Theo urged the horses to trot, and the wagon rocked and swayed dangerously in the darkness. Dawn was beginning to color the horizon purple and pink by the time they finally sighted the far off lantern light shining from the Fletchers' window. A big black dog came running toward them, barking ferociously.

  "Quiet, Barney. You go on in, Miss Paige, the midwife's there. I'll unharness the team."

  Paige could tell by his voice that Theo was terrified of what might have happened since he'd left. She was apprehensive herself as she stepped down from the wagon and hurried toward the door of the rough log cabin.

  Several lanterns were lit inside, their glow making shadows in the corners. Paige shut the door after herself and took stock of the single room. The corner opposite the door was curtained off, obviously as a bedroom. An iron cook stove was sending off palpable waves of heat, and a cauldron of water and two kettles bubbled on its lid, as well as an immense white enamel coffeepot.

  The interior walls were papered with newspaper. Round, hand-hooked rag rugs made pools of color on the bare wooden floor. A rocking chair stood near the stove, and under a lace curtained window was a sturdy kitchen table and four chairs. Paige's breath caught when she noticed a beautiful wooden cradle, made up to receive a baby, standing empty in one corner. Several packing boxes used as cupboards comprised the rest of the furnishings.

  A ramrod straight little woman in an immaculate starched white apron came hurrying out from behind the curtain, her iron gray hair caught back in a tight bun, sweat standing out in droplets on her forehead.

  "And who might you be, dear?" Her chocolate brown eyes behind wire rimmed spectacles were both intelligent and wary. "I thought Mr. Fletcher was bringing the doctor."

  Paige drew a deep breath and let it
go slowly. "I'm Dr. Paige Randolph. There's been an emergency and Dr. Baldwin's not available, so I'm here in his stead."

  "You, a doctor?" The woman studied Paige with a narrow eyed gaze and then slowly nodded. "Ah, yes, the lady doctor from up at the fort. I know who you are now. You're boarding with Lulu Leiberman." She gave Paige a calculating look and then added, "My name's Abigail Donald."

  A frenzied moaning rose and fell from behind the curtain.

  Paige hurried over and stepped behind it, forcing a note of confidence into her voice that she was a long way from feeling.

  "Clara? How are you, love? It's Paige. I've come to help you get this baby born."

  At first there was no response. Clara lay on tumbled sheets, her eyes shut, her face alarmingly pale and still. The mound of her belly rose like a small mountain beneath bloodstained linen. Slowly her eyes opened, and she looked up at Paige, her glance filled with entreaty.

  "Paige . . . remember, you said .. . babies . . . lots of women my age—" Her face contorted as another pain began and she couldn't finish the sentence. Her head began to move back and forth on the sweat drenched pillow as the pain intensified, and a low, guttural moaning that accelerated into an agonized scream filled the room as the violent contraction gripped her.

  Paige reached for Clara's wrist, monitoring her pulse. Mrs. Donald was holding Clara's other hand in one of hers and massaging her swollen stomach with the other.

  "How close together are the contractions, Mrs. Donald?"

  "Four minutes. Been the same now for over fifteen hours. Water broke a long time ago, but she's got no urge to push. The baby's in the wrong position, crosswise, sort of, and I can't turn it." She patted Clara's hand. "She won't relax her muscles enough for me to get my arm in, poor thing. Can't relax, what with the pain. I've tried several times."

  Mrs. Donald studied Paige with bird bright eyes. "Forgive me for saying so, but if you're a real doctor, where's your bag? A little bit of that chloroform Dr. Baldwin uses and the pain would ease, then it would be easier to turn the baby around so she could deliver. I've seen Dr. Baldwin use chloroform in cases like this before."