“Miss Ralston?” One of the three addressed her nervously. “My name’s Billie Morton. Miss Day said you were expecting us this afternoon?”
At the gate, a closed carriage pulled away.
“Of course. Come right in.” Zelda smiled a welcome, careful to hide any signs of her own apprehension.
She felt downright dowdy in her plain dark skirt and white shirtwaist, inexperienced with her single foray into the intimate rites between male and female, and terrified that she’d inadvertently insult these women. She desperately needed their business.
Their dresses were as demure as those she and her neighbors might wear to church. But the fabrics were obviously expensive, silk and satin whispering softly, feathers and ribbons on chic bonnets drifting in the breeze.
Zelda stood to one side so the fashionably clad trio could get past her, and the flower-garden scent of their expensive perfume filled her nostrils.
Once inside, the spokeswoman introduced the others. “This here’s Ethel Parker, and this is May Howard.”
“Call me Zelda, please.” She shook hands, her photographer’s eye assessing each, admiring Ethel’s high cheekbones and exotic good looks. Billie was short and plump, wildly freckled, with a topknot of curly ginger hair peeping from under her elaborate bonnet. May was tiny, with birdlike features, darting black eyes and a fluttery manner. It dawned on Zelda that all three were just as nervous and ill at ease as she was.
“Please, do sit down.” She gestured at the ornate sofa she used as a prop. “Why don’t I make a pot of tea? Then we can have a chat about the kind of photographs you want.”
They perched together on the very edge of the sofa, for all the world like schoolgirls confronting the head mistress, and when she returned with the tea tray five minutes later, they hadn’t moved an inch.
“Now.” Zelda poured, added sugar, cream or lemon, and offered scones Virgil had baked. “Leona wanted some studies that are rather exotic.” Zelda showed them a few of the photos she’d already developed from her sessions with her new friend earlier that week. “And also some that are very casual.”
Leona had been a natural at posing for the camera. She’d had no qualms when Zelda suggested they try a few of the unusual posing techniques Tom had described as being popular in his time, photographs that had none of the studied and formal composition that was popular in 1902, but were rather whimsical and relaxed.
“You’re sure us coming here in broad daylight won’t hurt your business none?” Billie frowned over her teacup. “Your reg’lar customers might not like it much, Miss Zelda. See, we don’t want to spoil your trade, we told Leona - Miss Day – that we could come in off hours, in the early morning, say, or on Sunday. Nights ain’t too good fer us, though.”
These were businesswomen. On an impulse, Zelda decided to be frank with them, more open than she’d been even with Leona.
“To tell the truth, my business is practically non-existent,” she admitted. “I’m a good photographer, but I have a habit of speaking my mind. I’ve even been arrested for it, which doesn’t sit well with many of Frank’s citizens. They prefer Mr. Beaseley.” She looked up and met three pairs of sympathetic eyes. “I’m very grateful for your business. I could hardly sleep last night, worrying that I might offend you in some way.” She gave a rueful grin. “My tongue can be my worst enemy. Dad says it flaps before my brain engages, and I never know what’s going to come out of my mouth next.”
Instantly, the atmosphere in the room changed. Zelda could see shoulders relax, stiff backs slump a little, faces lose their polite masks, and honest smiles blossom.
Billie actually reached over and patted Zelda’s arm. “Good grief, don’t you worry none about us. We was the ones worryin’, right, girls?”
There was a chorus of assent. “See, Miss Zelda, most decent folks wouldn’t want us in their houses,” May chirped. “So we was real nervous, comin’ over here today.”
“Imagine folks goin’ to that worm of a Beaseley instead of having you take their photograph. Why, he traded some of us, promisin’ us pictures, then went back on his word.” Ethel’s sloe eyes snapped with outrage, and the other nodded.
The mental image of skinny, bespectacled William Beaseley buck naked and engaged in the act of trading services with these ladies popped into Zelda’s mind and wouldn’t be dislodged. Did he leave his glasses on? Did his already protruding eyes bug out even more when….
Zelda choked on her tea, sprayed it over her chin, fumbled for her handkerchief, and giggled helplessly.
“I--- a mental vision of---Beaseley---without his clothing –”
She couldn’t continue, but they had imaginations every bit as vivid as hers and probably a lot more graphic. All of them chortled, whooping, each adding an indecent comment or two that set them all off again.
When they finally all regained their composure, the last barrier was gone.
After that, the session was a delight. It turned out that Ethel, May, and Billie were unanimous in wanting the most formal and prim of portraits made, their bonnets firmly in place, their gloves on, their faces regal and unsmiling, their knees pressed primly together under layers of petticoats.
Of course Zelda didn’t ask who the portraits were meant for. Perhaps the women wanted them just for themselves, but by the time the session was over, she felt she’d made three more friends.
They paid in cash, and each of them added a generous tip, the first tips Zelda had ever earned at her craft.
Within the space of a few weeks, the photography business became not exactly busy, but certainly vastly improved over what it had been. For the first time since their move to Frank, Zelda earned a sizeable chunk of money to help pay the bills that had mounted steadily during Virgil’s illness, and it was entirely attributable to Leona Day and the saloon girls.
“I’m so grateful to Jackson for introducing me to Leona, Tom. I’ve never had a close woman friend until now.” She sighed blissfully. “I think I’d be entirely content for the first time in my entire life if only Dad would get feeling better.”
They were on their way to what had become their favorite spot, the small cave on the lower side of Turtle Mountain. It was a hot, sultry evening in mid-July, and they walked along hand in hand, stopping now and again for a tantalizing kiss.
“He’s still coughing half the night,” Zelda added, “and he looks thinner than he was before, don’t you think so?”
Now that evenings were longer, they walked up the mountain whenever Tom’s shifts permitted, which didn’t seem half often enough to either of them. The mine was working three shifts, and on the afternoon or night portion of his rotation, their time alone together was limited.
Tom felt a surge of impatient desire for her. Instead of diminishing, his need for Zelda seemed to grow as the weeks passed, and his ties to the entire Ralston family deepened.
“Tom?” Her voice brought him out of his reverie. “What do you think about Dad? Do you think he’s getting better, or not?”
Tom, too, was concerned about Virgil, but he didn’t want to alarm Zelda any more than she was already. “I’m sure this hot weather will help his chest,” Tom reassured her.
Privately, he thought the older man seemed to be slowly losing strength instead of gaining it.
Eli had notice too, that his father couldn’t manage the strenuous chores that he’d been accustomed to doing a short time before. Between them, Tom and Eli had quietly divided up the heavier work.
They’d reached the cave, and Zelda retrieved the old blanket she’d hidden inside and spread it out for them.
Unable to control the raging desire he felt for her, Tom drew her down to the ground, locking her in his arms, his lips taking hers.
She returned his kisses, giving him all of her response, showing him how much she wanted him.
Feverishly, he stripped off his own clothes, then began the task of undressing her. He was getting much more adept with the endless rows of tiny buttons, but Zelda, too, was
impatient. She undid the final tedious row that held her pants, and she laughed softly at his groan of relief when he was at last able to tug the garment down and off her legs.
“It seems such a long time,” he whispered, trailing kisses down her neck, allowing his hands to wander intimately over her breasts and belly. In reality, it had been only four days, but even a single day without the delight of loving her now seemed an eternity to him.
“For me, too.” She gasped and arched as his fingers slid down and touched the hard nub between her legs.
It was like setting a match to kindling. She writhed and opened for him, and his sanity fled as he entered her.
They calmed slowly, their bodies still trembling with the aftershocks of ecstasy. He rolled so she was resting on top of him, her hair spilling in wild glory across his chest.
“Tom, do you think Leona and Jackson ever…”
Her voice trailed off.
“Ever what?” Tom teased her, pretending not to understand what she meant, trailing his hand across her narrow back and down over her buttocks, loving the feel of her satiny skin under his calloused hand.
“Don’t be obtuse. It doesn’t become you. Do you think they’re, ummm, intimate, in this way?”
He laughed, amused at how primly she managed to phrase it. “I think there’s a pretty fair chance, all right.” In fact, he’d stake his life on it. He’d seen the hot glances that passed between those two, and he knew his partner’s appetites.
“Did Jackson have a great many women before?”
Tom thought he had some idea where this was heading, and it might be wise to proceed with caution. “I wouldn’t say a great many, no.” It was a lie, but what the hell. The truth wouldn’t serve any purpose, and it could get both him and Jackson into hot water.
“Was there ever anyone he thought of marrying?”
She’d never asked him that about himself. “Not that I know of.”
“Why not, do you think?”
It was a tough question, because it wasn’t just Jackson she was asking about. Although she hadn’t said so, the issue had to do with him as well, and Tom knew it.
“Partly the way we lived, Zelda, the job we had. We didn’t stay n any one place very long, so it was hard to get to know anyone well enough.”
He knew her well, though, and he knew she wouldn’t settle for such a superficial answer, so he struggled to put the rest of it into words. “The way he grew up has a lot to do with it, too, I guess. Jackson came from Portland, Oregon, a big city on the West coast. His parents didn’t take care of their kids, so he was put in one foster home after the other. He was a wild boy, and he got into lots of trouble. He always says if he hadn’t joined the army, he probably would have ended up in jail. Settling down with a wife and kids just isn’t in his nature, I guess.”
Tom tensed. Of course the next question would have to be whether or not it was in his, either, but as usual, she surprised him.
She changed the subject.
A Distant Echo: Chapter Twenty
“Is that where you met Jackson? In the army?”
Tom nodded. “We ended up in a branch of the forces called Army Intelligence. We worked well together, and we were sent on special assignments. We got to be close friends.”
“I remember the first day we met in the police barracks,” she went on. “Jackson said you’d had a head injury during some war. Was that true?”
“In a way.” Since coming here, he hadn’t even thought of the political intrigues that went on in his own time, and now it was hard even to remember why they’d seemed so important. “It wasn’t a war, exactly. It was a mess that a bunch of stupid politicians got us into. Jackson and I were sent there to try to free a political prisoner, but it turned out he was already dead. We got caught in a place where we had no right to be, and the guards fired at us. Jackson got hit in the thigh, and a bullet grazed my skull. We managed to escape, but we both spent quite a while in the hospital, and that’s when we decided it was time to leave the army.”
She shuddered. “Many of the soldiers who fought in the War between the States have emigrated to Canada, and the tales they tell of war are horrifying. I do hope there won’t be any more wars, Tom, at least for a long time. I don’t know how I’d bear it if Eli went off to fight some ridiculous battle.”
An icy shiver traveled through Tom as he thought of the world wars that would come in only a few short years. He’d avoided telling Zelda about such things, and he wouldn’t tell her now. There were times when knowing what the future held was a terrific, terrible burden.
He wrapped his arms even tighter around her and closed his eyes. It felt so good just to hold her, to lose himself in loving her so that memory disappeared, and there was nothing except the urgency of the here and now. In another moment, he’d roll her beneath him and start all over again.
“Eli can quit this awful job he has at the mine, now that I’m earning money with my photography,” Zelda declared, and Tom abandoned his fantasies abruptly.
The subject of Eli was still a touchy one between them. He considered what she’d just said, and then sighed and shook his head. He just couldn’t stay out of it, no matter how he tried.
“Have you talked to him about it, Zelda?”
“Not yet. I wanted to discuss it with you first.” She moved away from him, rolling to the side and sitting up. “You will help me convince Eli that he should quit, won’t you, Tom?” She frowned down at him. “In spite of what he promised, his grades are slipping. He’s simply too tired to study the way he needs to. He has to have top marks if he’s to qualify for a scholarship.”
Eli had confided to Tom while they were chopping and stacking wood the previous day that he was going to ask to work extra hours at the picking tables, to buy himself a bike.
“I’m not getting in the middle of anymore of these discussions between you and Eli.” Tom declared now. “I understand what you want for him, but the fact is, he has to want it, too. You can’t tell a boy his age what to do.”
Zelda scowled at him and pulled on her pantaloons, then her chemise. “But you know better than anyone how dreadful it is to work underground. I’m so afraid he’ll decide that’s what he should do. If you just talked to him…”
Tom, too, drew on his underwear and then his jeans. “I’ve told Eli how I feel about the mine, but he’s not me, Zelda. He’s soon going to be a man, with a man’s choices to make. You might not agree with what he does in his life, but part of growing up is learning to make your own choices.”
She pulled on her skirt and tugged her light cotton dress over her head. “Then you refuse to say anything to him about this?”
Tom looked at her, taking in the stubborn set of her chin, the rebellious expression in her brown eyes. “Yes, Zel, I do.”
“I’d have thought for my sake you might have agreed.” The snippy tone of her voice warned Tom that she was angry. “My goodness, Eli hangs on every word you say. You’re his hero. I thought you’d understand how important it is to me that he doesn’t ruin his entire life this way.”
Something snapped in him. “For God’s sake, Zelda, don’t go putting the responsibility for your brother’s life on my shoulders.” The web that had drawn so subtly around him, the whole issue of the place he’d unwittingly assumed in the Ralston family unit, suddenly weighed like chain mail on Tom. He’d fallen into a role he’d never had any intentions of playing, with an unspoken projection of permanence that terrified him. The memory of his small stepbrothers and how irrevocably he’d failed them flashed into his mind.
“I’ve never once said I’m going to be around forever,” he went on, his tone harsh. “If things go the way I plan, I’ll be leaving next April. You know that, Zelda. It’s wrong to begin relying on me to guide Eli, because when the opportunity presents itself, I’m going back to my own time.” Even as he spoke the words, he knew that the entire conversation had somehow been leading up to this moment.
“And what if you can’t ge
t back there?” Her husky voice was polite and impersonal, as if she were asking a question of a stranger. “What if you find you’re stuck here? What will you do then?”
He and Jackson had discussed that very thing the last time they’d seen each other. “Whatever happens, I’m not staying in Frank, Zelda.” His words were deliberately harsh. “I’ll probably get back into the business I was in before. Even in this day and age, there’s treasure waiting to be found.”
“With Jackson?”
“Yeah, with Jackson.” Tom wondered why the plan that had sounded so promising suddenly left him feeling bereft. “Of course with Jackson. He’s my partner.”
“Of course.” She’d drawn on her stockings and fastened them, and now she finished tying the laces on her boots, her skirts still above her knees. She looked flushed and rumpled and sexy as hell. Regret filled him for moments of lovemaking lost in controversy.
“Well, we’d best be getting back. Dad will be wondering where I am and what I’m doing.”
Tom doubted that. He suspected that Virgil knew exactly what they were doing when they disappeared like this.
Tom had wrestled with the morals of the situation, wondering if there was something he ought to say to Virgil. He’d never made love to the daughter of a friend before, and he had no guidelines for it. In the final analysis, he’d decided there was really nothing he could say.
Neither did there seem to be anything more to say to Zelda, and their trip back down the mountain was long and painfully silent.
Calling on every ounce of self-control she possessed, Zelda managed to get through the rest of the evening, until she could at last climb the stairs to her attic room.
Once there, she threw herself on her bed and buried her face in the feather pillow before she allowed the tearing sobs that she’d held at bay for what seemed an eternity finally to escape.
Now and Forever: Time Travel Romance Superbundle Page 81
