Across the Winds of Time

by Bess McBride

  Cynthia and Laura, examining a carton of eggs in the cooler, turned. I watched them exchange a glance. Laura strode toward us while Cynthia shuffled along.

  “Well, I guess Molly already has a contractor lined up—a fellow out of Council Bluffs. I think she contracted with him right after she bought the house a few weeks ago.”

  “Council Bluffs? Well, we like to use local help around here—to support the economy and all, but since you already made arrangements with this guy...” Sally pursed her lips as she looked at me with narrowed eyes.

  I threw Laura a grateful glance, and dug myself in deeper.

  “Yes, he’s a specialist in Victorian homes.” I beamed at my heretofore unsuspected creative imagination. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Laura turn a sharp glance in my direction.

  “Oh, well. Rick’s pretty good with his tools, but he’s no specialist,” Sally huffed. Cathy resumed shelving.

  “Well, there ya go,” Cynthia murmured in a smooth voice. She favored everyone with an innocent grin when all eyes turned on her—especially Sally.

  “Okay, I’ve got everything I need,” Laura said hastily. “Are you ready?”

  “Yes!” I stepped up quickly to the single register at the counter and laid out my groceries. Cathy made her way over to the register, gave me a small smile, but remained silent as she rang everything up. We were out of the door in no time at all with a farewell to Sally.

  “That was close,” Cynthia murmured behind a giggle. “Rick would be the handyman we told you about who probably isn’t skilled enough to work on the house.”

  “I didn’t know you’d hired a ‘specialist’ in Victorian homes. You didn’t mention that before.” Laura met my eyes in the rearview mirror with a dubious look. I had known this subject would come up again at the exact moment I elaborated unnecessarily in the store, and I tossed off a few airy words.

  “Oh, yes, I found him on the Internet. That’s why he’s from Council Bluffs. I would have preferred someone more local, of course.” I took a breath. “Yes, apparently restoring Victorian homes is a real big thing right now. That’s what I’ve read. Uh huh...” I brought my babbling to a halt.

  “Hmmm...” was Laura’s reply. It seemed likely she wasn’t buying my story.

  “Well, that sounds very interesting,” sweet Cynthia said. “I can’t wait to meet him, dear. Will he be starting soon?”

  “Oh...uh...Yes, soon. Yes,” I repeated, trying to sound more definite.

  “Before we leave for Florida?”

  “When is that?” I stalled.

  “I thought we mentioned that at lunch. We’re going to hit the road—as they say—in about three weeks.”

  “Three weeks! Really! Well, I’m not exactly sure when he’s starting. He has another project he’s working on. I’m not sure.”

  “I hope we get to meet him,” Cynthia murmured.

  I smiled faintly and grew silent. I hated lying to the kind women. Unable to sort through my lies, I found it easier to remain mute on the way back to the house.

  I waved goodbye to them moments later, and waited on the porch with my two bags of groceries to ensure they pulled out of the driveway and disappeared down the road.

  Then I turned and called.

  “Darius!” The name that repeated itself over and over again in my mind like a broken record, albeit a beloved broken record. I picked up the bags, wrestled the knob and pushed open the door with my shoulders.

  “Darius!” I called again, expecting to hear his footsteps. Silence filled the house. With a growing sense of unease that was never too far away, I dropped the groceries on the coffee table and dashed into the kitchen. It was empty. I pulled myself up the stairs, taking them two at a time, calling his name.

  “Darius!” No answer.

  Outside! He must be outside, I thought as I began to hyperventilate.

  I tripped back down the stairs and ran through the living room back to the kitchen, noting with a panicked eye that the mugs had been washed and left on the counter. So, he had come back into the house.

  Wrenching open the kitchen door which led to the side of the house , I pushed open the screen with a responding creak, poised on the top wooden step and called his name, heedless of any nearby listeners.

  “Darius!”

  Still nothing. Nothing but the sound of the wind in the oak trees that shaded the side yard.

  I ran around to the back, stumbling several times on the vast expanse of overgrown grass. Several ramshackle and weathered wooden buildings—an old barn and some sort of shack—butted up against a seemingly endless field of green corn stalks which marked the edge of the property line. I cupped my hands and shouted with all my might.

  “Darius! Darius!

  I paused to listen for a response, my knees shaking as I tried to catch my breath. Panic robbed me of oxygen. There was no sound except the wind rustling the corn stalks.

  I ran across the back yard and dived into the open door of the barn, shouting Darius’s name. He wasn’t in there. I ran next door to the shack and pulled at the door which hung precariously on one rusty old hinge. The hinge screeched ominously as I half supported the door and peered inside. The shack was, in fact, some sort of cabin, and consisted of one dusty empty room. I could barely see inside, so dirty were the windows at either end of the cabin. An old stovepipe stood in a corner.

  “Darius,” I whispered hoarsely. No answer. It seemed clear he wasn’t in there.

  He was gone. Gone.

  I turned away, at a loss for what to do or where to look. Despair overwhelmed me, and I dragged myself back to the porch at the side of the house to sink down onto the steps. I buried my face in my hands to fight back my sobs. I shouldn’t have left the house. I shouldn’t have left. He’d still be here if I hadn’t left.

  “Please don’t let him disappear,” I whispered. “Oh, please don’t leave me, Darius!” Surely if I repeated the words enough times, he would come back to me. “Please stay with me, Darius. Please,” I begged in a ragged breath.

  “Molly, my love, what is wrong? What has happened?”

  I jerked my head up to see Darius striding toward me from across the yard near the tree line. I gasped and rose on shaking legs to reach for him through blurry eyes.

  Darius reached me as I almost fell off the step, and in one fluid motion, scooped me into his arms. He lowered himself to the bottom step, holding me in his lap like a child while I sobbed against his jacket. He pressed his face against the top of my head.

  “What has happened, my love? Tell me what is wrong,” he murmured in a husky voice.

  “I thought you were gone,” I clutched his coat and wailed, nowhere near calming down.

  “No, no, my sweet.” Darius’s embrace tightened, and I pressed against him. “I am sorry. I just went for a walk...to the cemetery actually. I did not mean to alarm you.”

  I stiffened and lifted my chin to look at him, simultaneously giving his lapel a fierce tug.

  “The cemetery!” I choked out tearfully. “Haven’t you been there long enough? Don’t do that to me again! At least, leave me a note next time. I can’t tell you what I thought...” I wiped at my face and hiccupped.

  “Forgive me, Molly. I did not think...” He paused and leaned in to kiss my forehead. “You love me, Molly. You still love me.”

  I pulled myself upright in his lap, unwilling to leave the place I wanted to be most in the world—encircled in his arms, and equally unwilling to allow myself to become any more enamored of him than I already was. The events of the previous few minutes had proved a point. He could disappear at any time, and I didn’t think I could bear to live with the pain.

  With every ounce of willpower I had, I pulled myself from his arms and struggled to stand upright on the steps. My wobbly legs misbehaved and failed to give me support. I gave up and plopped back down on the step beside him.

  I sighed heavily.

  “I don’t know how I feel about you, Darius. I really don’t. And even if
I did, I don’t think I’d admit it. I don’t want to lose myself...anymore than I already have.” I bit my lower lip, knowing I’d already given away too much. “All I know is that when I came back, and couldn’t find you...” I muttered and refused to look at him, instead choosing to stare at the oak trees lining the side of the property.

  “Forgive me, Molly. Truly. I did not know I would be missed.”

  “Well, you were,” I responded gruffly. “I worry about it.” That’s it. That’s all I was giving him.

  “I am grateful to hear it,” Darius replied. “I worry about you as well. It cannot be easy living with a ghost.” I heard the hint of laughter in his voice, but I refused to join the frivolity. The near loss—as my wayward heart understood it—was still too raw. My throat was too tight, my chest still constricted.

  “It’s not funny.”

  Darius acquiesced and dutifully sobered. “I am sorry I frightened you, my love. How was your day?”

  “Good, thanks.” I smacked a hand to my forehead and jumped up. “Oh, shoot! I have to put the groceries in the refrigerator.”

  “Shall I help?” Darius stood. He bent down to brush the dust from the wooden step off his pant leg, and I shook my head as I watched him.

  “We need to get you some clothes. No chance you can just conjure up something to wear, is there?” I pulled open the screen door and stepped inside the kitchen.

  Darius laughed as he followed me in. “I do not think so. I have never tried. How should I proceed?”

  I retrieved the bags from the living room and shrugged with a half smile, though I was still unwilling to meet his gaze. The intensity of my desperation to see him once again shocked me, and I wasn’t sure I trusted myself at the moment—or any time he was around.

  “I don’t know. Sit down and imagine a new set of clothing, something comfortable. Some tennis shoes?”

  “Tennis shoes?” Darius peeked into the sacks of groceries and began to pull things out and examine them with interest.

  “Rubber shoes. Surely, they had tennis even in your day.”

  “Well, certainly they do. But I have not heard of these rubber shoes.”

  I allowed myself a short laugh. Relief made me giddy.

  “Well, let’s go into Council Bluffs tomorrow morning and get you something to wear. Did you have something to eat while I was gone?”

  Darius’s blue eyes widened. “Council Bluffs? That’s quite the journey. Will we be staying the night?” He checked his pocket watch. I wondered how the watch could still work after all these years.

  “It will take several hours to get to Missouri Valley, supposing that we can get a conveyance,” Darius continued as he studied his watch, “and then another hour and a half to the city from there which will, of course, depend on your modern train schedule.”

  I laughed to myself as I put things away in the refrigerator. Before I turned around, I pressed my lips together to compose my face.

  “I’ve got a car, Darius. You’d be surprised how fast we can get to Council Bluffs from here. I’d say not more than an hour one way.”

  “An hour?” He shook his head slowly and regarded me with amazement. “That seems difficult to believe. Very well, then. Tomorrow it is!”

  “First thing,” I promised. “The electrician is coming in the afternoon, and we’ll have to figure out where to stash you while he’s here.”

  “By stash, I suppose you mean hide.” Darius grinned. “I could always wander up to the cemetery once again,” he teased. “I feel very comfortable up there.”

  I huffed and turned a shoulder to him.

  “Very funny,” I muttered.

  Darius laughed and changed the subject.

  “I examined the house while you were gone, and I have decided on a course of action for the necessary repairs. Shall we review my proposals?”

  For the next few hours, Darius walked me around the house, inside and out, showing me what he thought needed to be done. I trusted his judgment implicitly. Though he’d built the house over a hundred years ago, it seemed likely that the fundamentals of carpentry hadn’t really changed.

  I looked forward to the sight of him with a tool belt strapped around his waist, hammer in hand with a hardhat perched atop his chestnut waves. Something like a calendar pinup. The macho image, though, soon evolved into another vision of Darius tangled up in the cord of a power saw. I couldn’t repress a grin, and I refused to answer Darius’s questions regarding the source of my amusement.

  Darkness descended, and I made my way into the kitchen to eye the microwave and contemplate whether it could hold up under the strains of heating dinner. I ogled the new electric stove and wished the hours would roll by so the electrician could do what he needed to do and get it hooked up—along with my washer and dryer in the alcove off the kitchen.

  Darius could be heard knocking on walls on the second floor, presumably looking for studs. I had rounded up some paper and pencil for him to start writing notes and listing supplies.

  My cell phone rang and I ran into the living room to retrieve it from the depths of my purse.

  “So, how’s it going?” Sara asked when I answered. I plopped down onto the sofa, forcing Sassy to open one eye from her roost on the top of the couch. Though Sara couldn’t see me, I know I blushed foolishly.

  “Good!” I said in an unnaturally high voice. I tried to tone it down. “I went out with Laura and Cynthia today and met some of the local folks, got some groceries, hired a guy to renovate the house, and—”

  “What!”

  I was hoping to breeze through that portion, but Sara was quick—or maybe she was used to listening for anything out of the ordinary when it came to me.

  “I hired a guy. I haven’t seen him yet or anything, so I don’t know if he’s going to work out...” I rapidly ran out of lies.

  “Good gravy, you’re moving fast. Well, just make sure he’s licensed and bonded.” I swore she must have been related to Hardware Bob in another life.

  “Yes, Mother. Speaking of which, how is she? How’s the cruise going? Have you heard?”

  “Not a peep. They’re too ‘frugal’ to call from somewhere in the Pacific Ocean, you know.”

  Sara laughed, and I smiled at the true words. I heard Darius’s continued tapping, and I covered the phone with my hand.

  “At any rate, I’m sure they’re having a good time,” Sara said.

  “Well, maybe Mom. Somehow, I don’t see this as Dad’s cup of tea.”

  “So, how was your first night in the house?” Sara asked.

  I thought of my eventful first night and opted for at least one truth. I hated lying to my sister.

  “Well, the orange cat, Marmaduke, certainly made a commotion last night. I guess he’s out sowing his wild oats while he can because I’m having him neutered next week.”

  “Poor kitty,” Sara murmured. “Still,” she sighed, “if he wants to be an indoor cat, it’s the best thing for him...and you.”

  “Well, I can’t be responsible for little orange kitties over running the neighborhood,” I said dryly.

  I heard Darius’s footsteps on the stairs, and I covered the phone again. He appeared on the stairs, streaks of dust on his white shirt and a smudge on his face. I held my finger to my lips. He stilled at the bottom of the steps and tilted his head with curiosity.

  “So, what are you doing?” I asked Sara, hoping Darius wouldn’t speak. I was out of luck.

  “I am just getting ready to wash up,” he said, and I jumped to my feet and pointed to the phone while making exaggerated faces and shushing gestures in what must have seemed like a bizarre mime performance.

  “Did you say something? Wait, let me turn my music down,” Sara said.

  “I asked you what you were doing,” I repeated with relief that she hadn’t heard Darius’s voice. He, in turn, shook his head in confusion but finally seemed to understand that I wanted him to be silent. He approached me tentatively, and I took a step backwards, trying to remember what
I had asked Sara.

  “Oh, I’m just reading a book. Brad is out of town at an engineering conference, so I’m having a single girl’s night out with a romance novel.” She laughed.

  I froze as I could back up no further with the couch behind me, and Darius continued to approach. He came to stand beside me and bent his head near the phone. It occurred to me that I was having my own girl’s night out with a romance novel—only mine was standing right next to me

  “Molly? Are you there?”

  “Yes, I’m here,” I said as I smiled up at Darius who looked at me and back to the phone again. “What did you say you were reading?”

  “Well, it’s a time travel romance. Do you ever read those?”

  “Once, a long time ago,” I mumbled, distracted by the feel of Darius’s breath near my cheek. “I can’t remember the author, but I loved the story.”

  Darius raised his head, startled and voiced a silent apology, having realized he was listening in on someone’s conversation. He turned to leave, but I caught his arm. Not only did I enjoy watching him see and experience new things—like the phone—I thought it was a fine excuse to keep him close.

  “So, what’s this one about?” I asked as I inhaled Darius’s scent.

  “Oh, this gal travels back in time to the Victorian era. Something about boarding a train which has some magic power to transport her in time. Then she meets a handsome man and falls in love.”

  I grinned, reluctantly letting go of Darius’s arm as he bent his head near me again.

  “And then what? Does she stay with him or go back to her time?” I murmured.

  “I don’t know. I haven’t gotten that far,” Sara said.

  “I wish we could travel through time. Wouldn’t that be great?” I heard myself sigh. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Darius turn a curious look on me.

  “I don’t know. Why? Don’t tell me you think you have to travel in time to meet Mr. Right?” Sara chuckled. “Are you looking for a Victorian man? Is that what you’ve been holding out for all these years?”

  I blushed, and decided Darius had heard enough. I moved away from him, and he understood. He nodded and retreated to the stairs.