Across the Winds of Time

by Bess McBride

  “No, I don’t think so. Maybe,” I said, barely paying attention to the conversation as I watched Darius climb the stairs. As if he knew my gaze followed him, he glanced over his shoulder and threw me a brash grin before he disappeared from sight. I sighed. And said the first thing on my mind.

  “Do you believe in ghosts?”

  Chapter Eight

  “What?” Sara asked as if she thought she’d misunderstood.

  I sank down on the sofa once again.

  “Do you believe in ghosts? You know, people that come back from the dead.” I shivered. I wasn’t explaining it well. “Not like white and pale and spooky, but people who...well, like your book...travel through time. Maybe for love?”

  Sara coughed. “Well, let me put it this way. I’d be more inclined to believe in time travel than I would in ghosts. Does all this ruminating come from living so close to a cemetery? You picked the house, sis.”

  I forced a chuckle, albeit a high-pitched one.

  “I love that cemetery.”

  Sara grunted in response. “Well, listen, I’m going to get back to my time travel to see what happens. I’ll keep you posted on the outcome. You’re welcome to your ghosts.”

  “I have to admit,” I chuckled again. “I’d rather meet a man who traveled in time myself. Even if I do live near a cemetery.” I said goodbye and hung up.

  I heard the moaning and groaning of the pipes upstairs, though it sounded more like the sink than the bathtub. At least, I hoped so. I was going to try to make dinner soon.

  I pulled my knees up under me on the couch and rested my chin on them. The conversation with my sister had given me food for thought.

  Time travel, I repeated silently. If only time travel were possible. Then Darius would be...alive, wouldn’t he? He wouldn’t be a...a ghost.

  I felt a corner of my mouth lift. If ghosts were possible, then why wasn’t time travel? Who said Darius had to be a ghost? That he was out of the ordinary, there was no doubt. That something supernatural was at play also seemed a certainty. But there really was no evidence that he was a ghost. Was there?

  My heart thumped against my chest.

  Wait, now, Molly. Don’t start imagining things. Either way, it’s all too bizarre. Why couldn’t you just fall for some nice lawyer or doctor who was born in this century?

  I shook my head and jumped up to head for the kitchen, muttering silently.

  Time...Time...Time was all I had. Time would tell. Time heals all wounds. All it takes is time. Time in a bottle.

  A peek into the still near-empty refrigerator settled the menu for dinner as soup and salad. I hoped Darius liked tomato soup. I would have to do some major grocery shopping in Council Bluffs. The local store simply didn’t have the room to stock a large variety of food.

  I heated up the soup, standing guard over the microwave and begging it to hold out for a few more minutes. It managed to do so, and I threw a salad together and set it on the table along with some sliced bread from the store. I loved French bread but had a daunting feeling that my favorite foods would not necessarily be available in this small town. I couldn’t imagine special ordering through Sally.

  “Darius,” I called. “Dinner is ready.”

  As if he’d been waiting for me to call, Darius clattered down the stairs and appeared at the kitchen door, smelling of soap. His hair was neatly combed and his coat, slacks and shoes were clean and free of dust. I studied him thoughtfully, Sara’s words playing in my mind. His clothing looked brand new, though he’d been living in the same things for the last few weeks. Surely, a ghost’s clothing would have a musty smell at the very least? Wouldn’t the garments look old, cobwebby, tattered? I lowered my head with a wry smile, cursing Sara for putting even more confusing ideas into my head.

  “What was that contraption you spoke into, may I ask?” Darius asked as he pulled a chair out for me. I blushed—feeling quite the lady of the manor—and took a seat with a murmur of thanks.

  “It’s called a phone. It used to be called a telephone, but now we just call it a cell phone.”

  “Ah! I heard rumors of such an invention, but have not seen one. And you talk to people who are not here with it? How exactly does that occur?”

  I grinned when I saw Darius searching for a napkin. No doubt, he was looking for something in linen. I pushed one of the squares of paper towels that I’d brought to the table for just that purpose.

  “Here! Your serviette,” I chuckled.

  He glanced up at me, raised one eyebrow and laid the paper towel across his lap with aplomb as if it were made of the finest Brussels linen edged with lace.

  “Yes, of course,” he murmured.

  “I don’t know how the phone works, exactly. Cell phone towers communicate with satellites in space which send signals all over the world to other cell phone towers?”

  “I beg your pardon?” Darius, who’d been in the act of picking up his spoon, paused to stare at me with a knit between his brows. “I am quite certain, Molly, that every single word you used was English and yet...I have no earthly idea what you just said.”

  I shook my head and gave him a rueful smile.

  “I wish I could explain how things work to you, Darius, but the truth is—I don’t know how everything works. I hope you don’t think I’m...” I shrugged, feeling wholly inadequate. “Well, I mean, how does one educate someone who wasn’t born in the last hundred years? But then again, who plans to meet someone from another century?”

  Darius’s hand covered mine as it rested on the table.

  “Molly. I know how intelligent you are. That is one of the things I loved about you—one of the things I love about you. Only tell me what you can. It is enough.” His smile grew broad and the twinkle appeared in his eye. “And did I hear you finally admit that I was not born in your millennium?”

  I delighted in the feel of his hand over mine—the warmth, the strength, the sense of safety I felt when he touched me.

  “I’m pretty sure I said century—not millennium,” I smirked, completely bowled over by his touch.

  “I stand corrected,” Darius said with a solemn face, although the corners of his lips twitched. He squeezed my hand before releasing it to pick up his spoon.

  “Darius?” Now was as good a time as any, I thought.

  “Yes?” He stilled his hand and lifted his blue eyes to mine. Under his gaze, I almost lost my train of thought.

  He gave me an encouraging nod as I struggled to organize my thoughts.

  “That was my sister, Sara, on the phone,” I stalled.

  “Yes, I gathered,” he responded. “You have mentioned her before.” He smiled gently. “Is she well?”

  “Yes, she’s fine, thank you for asking.” Why was this conversation so difficult, I wondered? I looked at him for a moment—handsome, alive, vibrant, even normal—except that he wasn’t.

  “Do you believe in time travel?” I asked, seemingly out of the blue. At least, to see his startled face, it was unexpected.

  Darius burst out laughing—a deep-throated, warm and hearty sound that would have thrilled me had I not been so intent on discovering his origins.

  “Well, If I didn’t believe in time travel by now, that would be quite naïve of me, don’t you think? After all, have I not traveled through time. For you?”

  His face sobered on his last two words, and he reached for my hand again, but I slid my hands into my lap so I could focus. I simply could not think straight under the spell of his touch. And I really could not think when he said such ridiculously romantic things to me. I knew that if this man could not stay with me, I would do my utmost to go with him—no matter where he came from. No other future presented itself to me any longer.

  “I’m serious, Darius! I know you think that you’re a...spirit...ghost or whatever.” I scrunched my face as I searched for an acceptable term—acceptable to me, that is. “But what if—” I stumbled over my words, my thoughts as incoherent as my words. “Well, it’s just that Sara was t
alking about time travel, and I wondered...” I raised my hand when it looked as if he would interrupt. “Don’t get me wrong. We don’t actually believe people can travel through time—even in this millennium.” I avoided his gaze as the entire conversation sounded foolish—even to me. “But a lot of people don’t believe in ghosts either. So, isn’t it just as likely that you’ve actually traveled through time? Rather than...” I gulped, “...died?” I lifted my gaze from my cooling cup of soup and checked his reaction.

  He sat back in his chair regarding me with an indecipherable expression. I swallowed harder under his scrutiny. The discussion hadn’t gone as well as I’d hoped. Perhaps my delivery needed finessing.

  “Darius? You think I’m a kook, don’t you?”

  A twitch of his lips reassured me only slightly.

  “I am not sure. What is a kook?”

  “You know, eccentric...odd.” I found it hard to meet his direct gaze. All of a sudden, he seemed quite normal, and I felt like the oddity.

  He smiled broadly. “Well, you certainly are different from anyone I’ve every known. Even the Molly I once knew.”

  “That sounds bad.” I grimaced.

  He shook his head. “Not at all. It is a compliment. You are like Molly—yet different somehow.” He leaned forward and placed his elbows on the table, the soup forgotten. “So, if you believe that I have traveled through time—how does that explain your presence here?”

  I blinked.

  “Me?”

  “Yes, you, my dear. I may have been speaking of Molly as if she was some other woman, but she is not. She is you, and you are most definitely she.”

  I shook my head.

  “That’s just not possible, Darius.”

  “Stop hiding your hands and give them to me,” he commanded in a tone that brooked no argument. I complied, and was not at all unhappy about it. He held my hands in his warm grasp and rubbed his thumbs along the tops of my fingers. “It seems I cannot think very well unless I touch you,” he murmured with a wry smile.

  I realized I was holding my breath and released it.

  “Why do you think it is possible for me to have traveled through time and not you?” he repeated.

  My initial reaction was to pull my hands back so that I could think, but Darius held them firmly.

  “And I can’t think straight while you touch me,” I mumbled, avoiding his direct gaze. I closed my eyes for a moment, trying to ignore the blissful feel of his thumbs as they traced delicate patterns along the back of my hands. It was impossible.

  “I don’t know what I believe, Darius.” I opened my eyes and did my best to meet his beautiful blue gaze. The soft expression in them nearly undid me, and it was all I could do not to leap across the table and throw myself in his arms. “I don’t have any memory of a past beyond this life,” I shook my head slowly. “And apparently you do. So, that suggests that you have lived in another time.” I shrugged helplessly. “Why wouldn’t I remember something like that? Why wouldn’t I remember you?” A small smile tugged at my lips. “I would not be likely to forget you.”

  I watched Darius’s face bronze, and my heart fluttered in response. Who didn’t love a man who could blush? He gave my hands a light squeeze before settling back in his seat. He crossed his arms and stared unseeingly at the uneaten food on the table, seemingly lost in thought. A frown between his eyes worried me. Though the evening was warm, I felt suddenly cold, and my shoulder began to ache again. Darius glanced at me with a troubled look on his face, but his eyes flickered and he returned to staring at the table.

  “Darius? Did I say something wrong?” Whatever I had said took the light out of his eyes, and I felt absolutely awful. I wanted to run, but my legs seemed frozen. I put a hand to my left collarbone and rubbed it.

  Darius saw my movement, and he grimaced.

  “I have seen you do that several times today. Does your shoulder pain you, Molly?”

  “What?” I looked down at my shoulder and dropped my hand hastily. “Yes... No...” I shook my head in confusion. What had I said? “Yes, it does, but that’s not important. Is something wrong? You—you pulled away...I don’t know what I—”

  Darius leaned forward and captured my right hand in his hands. “You said nothing wrong, Molly. I apologize. Forgive me.” He gave me a slight smile. “I am not usually given to moods, but I find myself in strange circumstances.”

  “Is it...” I struggled for the right words, but they failed me. “Is it the other Molly? Are you still in love with her? What happened to her? Where is she?” I asked in a low voice.

  Somehow, I knew. Whoever she was, he was still in love with her. And though I might look like her—or remind him of her in some way—I wasn’t her, and he was never going to love me that way.

  He blinked for a moment before freeing his right hand to run gentle fingers along the edge of my jaw as if exploring my face. Unexpected tears sprang to my eyes, and I closed them for a moment.

  “You are one and the same, my love. I know you don’t believe it, but you are the same Molly I have loved for years.”

  I swallowed hard and fought for control as I opened my eyes to see him watching me intently, as if he tried to decipher my thoughts.

  “I just don’t see how that’s possible.” I shook my head.

  “Neither do I, sweeting, but I am not mistaken about you...about us. You remembered me. You knew my name. You cannot deny that some unexplained force is at work here.”

  I rubbed my face against his hand for a moment.

  “What happened to your other Molly? Is she still there? Did you leave her behind?” The thought of what she must be going through—losing him. I couldn’t bear to think of her pain.

  Darius stiffened for a moment, and his gaze flickered away from mine.

  “What?” I pulled back, and he let my hands go. “What aren’t you telling me, Darius?”

  “I cannot speak of it, my love,” he said in a husky voice. “Not now. We will talk of it another time, I promise. It is enough that I have found you again and all is well with the world.” He gave me a lopsided smile. “Come, we must eat. The food grows cold.”

  I looked down at the soup in some confusion. All was well with the world, he said. Then why had his face shown such grief?

  He rose to his feet, the smile remaining on his handsome face, though it didn’t meet his eyes. I sank back into my chair. Deflated, confused. There was a mystery surrounding the “other Molly,” and I needed to know what it was. Darius was unwilling to discuss it with me at the moment, and short of demanding to know what was essentially his private business, I had no choice but to wait for a better time.

  He paused for a moment to look at me with a softness in his eyes that warmed my heart. He bent and lowered his face to mine. He cupped my chin gently and stared into my eyes.

  “I love you, Molly. I love you. The woman you have become... Do not doubt that for a moment.”

  He lowered his gaze to my mouth and rubbed his thumb along my lower lip. My head swam under his touch, and I held my breath. Would he kiss me...as he had two weeks ago? Would I lose myself in him, emerging only to scream in agony when he disappeared from my life?

  I begged him with my eyes to kiss me as I held my breath. He bent his head toward me, and I closed my eyes in anticipation. Warm lips caressed my cheek.

  “I will wait for you, Molly,” he whispered in my ear. “Until you are certain that I am here to stay. I will wait for you.”

  My mouth dropped as I opened my eyes to see him straighten. He cleared his throat and flashed me one of his boyish grins.

  “Let’s see now,” he said huskily. “Where were we?” He looked down at the table in some confusion. “Ah, yes, I believe we were speaking of dinner. I shall take our soup to that little contraption you have to see if we can make it hot once again.” He picked up our cups with a slight tremor in his hands and headed for the microwave. I snapped out of my trance and jumped up to intercede, never doubting that he was fully prepare
d to attempt to operate it himself.

  “I think I’d better show you how to use this. I have a feeling you’re going to use it anyway.” I struggled to focus on more practical matters, certain that Darius kissed me, dinner would have had to wait...until the morning.

  “Just remember that we’re operating on very old wiring, and the microwave may not hold up much longer—at least until the electrician comes,” I heard myself saying.

  “Yes, dear,” Darius murmured.

  How many women had heard that domestic line before? I would never tire of hearing it from him. The warm look in his eyes and intimacy in his tone gave the trite acknowledgement a sweet validation of our strange, yet wonderful, relationship.

  With the soup re-heated and Darius semi-trained on the basics of the microwave, we sat down to dinner again, leaving questions and mysteries until another time.

  We ate as if we’d been doing so together for years, with Darius expressing delight in the salty flavor of the soup, the freshness of the salad and surprise at my acquisition of the requested pumpkin pie.

  Though I demurred and informed him I had made nothing from scratch, I nevertheless beamed at his praise and considered my first attempt at domesticity with a nineteenth century ghost...time traveler—no, make that enigma, I thought as I eyed him speculatively—to be a resounding success.

  “A fine repast,” he said as he wiped his mouth with my best paper towel napkin when we finished eating. “Thank you, Molly. I believe I shall enjoy the food in this time.” He grinned approvingly, and I beamed, delighting in the sparkle of his playful eyes.

  “I think I must return to inspecting the house so that you can order supplies soon.” He picked up the dishes and carried them to the sink while I watched in surprise.

  “Darius... You don’t normally clear your dinner table, do you? I thought men in your time...” I faltered.

  He turned to me with a rueful expression and shook his head.

  “No, not really. I have staff who help with those tasks.”

  I blinked.

  “Staff?” I cleared off the rest of the table. “What kind of staff?”