by Bess McBride
“Ummm...what?” I tore my gaze from the basement door. “The electrician? Oh, yes, he was here today. Still has to come back tomorrow, so most of the appliances aren’t hooked up yet. But the refrigerator is running.” I waved a distracted hand in the direction of the tall, two-door appliance in “bisque”—the first refrigerator I’d ever bought.
Sara opened it and peered inside.
“It’s huge! What’s this?” She pulled out the large square of semisweet chocolate I had bought according to Darius’s instructions. “Are you binging on chocolate? This looks pretty hard core.” Sara broke off a piece and popped it in her mouth before returning it to the refrigerator. “Well, Sis, it looks like I came just in the nick of time to save you from blowing up like a balloon.”
Despite my anxiety, I couldn’t hold back a grin. “Oh, please. I’ve been experimenting with making old-fashioned hot chocolate. Everything about this house makes me want to do things the old way.”
Sara tossed her head in the direction of the microwave.
“Well, almost everything.”
A knock on the door made me jump.
Sara narrowed her eyes. “Good gravy, Molly, you’re acting like that silly cat of yours. Go see who it is.”
“I ordered pizza... Maybe it’s the pizza.” I moved toward the door in slow motion, grabbing my wallet again off the coffee table along the way. Where was Darius? He wouldn’t... He wouldn’t knock at the door and pretend to be someone, would he?
I pulled open the door, with much more reluctance this time, and found a tall man in his mid-40s, standing on my porch, a pizza warmer in his hand. I blinked. He looked a bit older than the usual teenage pizza delivery boys I’d seen.
“You ordered a pizza?” he said in a flat tone.
“Yes, yes, I did. Thank you. How much?”
He gave me an amount, and I fumbled in my wallet for the money, uncomfortably aware he was peering around me to see into the house. I felt rather than heard Sara come up behind me.
“I heard you bought this place. I’m Rick, Cathy’s husband. I think you met my mother-in-law, Sally, at the store yesterday.”
“Oh!” My hand shook as I handed him the money. Lilium was getting smaller by the minute. “Yes. It’s nice to meet you.” I accepted the pizza and the hand he proffered to shake.
“So, this guy you hired to remodel, this ‘Victorian specialist’—does he need any extra help?” Rick continued to peer over my shoulder toward the inside of the house. “What’s his name again?”
I froze for an instant, before pulling my hand from his to balance the pizza, now burning my left hand. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Sara’s head jerk in my direction. How was I going to get out of this?
“Oh, I don’t know. I could ask him. Ummm...Dari-Darren Ferland. His name is Darren Ferland. No, Fergland. Fergland.”
Rick, a man of nondescript features and a two-day growth of beard, pocketed the money. “Well, let me know. I’m pretty handy with a hammer. And I live locally.” He attempted to give me a pointed look, which fell short of impressing me with its message. Poor Cathy, I thought.
“Sure. Like I said, I’ll check with him. Thanks for the pizza. Good night.” I pushed the door shut in his face and held the pizza out to Sara. “Here, take this. It’s burning my hands.”
Sara grabbed the pizza while I rubbed my so-called burnt hands together and tried to think of something quick.
“I didn’t know you’d hired a contractor. What’s this about a ‘Victorian specialist’?”
“Let’s go eat first. I’m starved.” I led the way to the kitchen, and we settled at the small kitchen table. I dug into my first slice with what I hoped looked like hungry enthusiasm, but the food tasted like cardboard. I turned to look out into the back yard, now shadowed as the sun began to set. Was Darius out there somewhere? I had to do something. I couldn’t just let him wander around outside alone...hungry...in the dark—ghost or time traveler.
I dropped my food and lifted a napkin to my mouth.
“As a matter of fact, I did hire a contractor...and he’s actually staying here.” I avoided Sara’s gaze and looked out the window. “I’m not sure where he is right now. Probably out back checking out the siding or something.”
“What?”
I kept my gaze firmly fixed outside.
“You have some guy staying here? A stranger? Are you nuts? Where is he?”
I grabbed my slice of pizza and stuffed it in my mouth. In a brief moment of hysteria, I wondered how it tasted, because I certainly had no idea. With appalling manners, I mumbled through my food...maybe hoping to distract Sara from my jumbled words.
“Well, yeah, I know it sounds weird, but he’s from Council Bluffs, and I thought it was best if he stay here...you know...so he doesn’t have to drive back and forth every day.”
I slid my gaze toward Sara who stared at me with a gaping mouth.
“That just doesn’t make sense, Molly. I mean if you had a husband or a man around to make sure you were safe...I could understand, but a stranger? How long is he going to be here? And where is he?”
“Until the remodel is done?” I offered with a tentative smile. “I really don’t know where he is right now. He doesn’t exactly report to me, you know.”
“So, is he the one who’s been sleeping on the couch?” Sara eyed me sternly. “Why did you tell me it was you?”
I jumped up to grab a couple of glasses and a carton of prepared lemonade from the refrigerator.
“Because I knew you would say something about it,” I murmured over my shoulder.
“Well, yeah! I would say something about it. I think it’s pretty odd,” Sara said as she took the glass from me. I sat down again, albeit on the edge of my seat.
“So, when is he going to start?” she asked with a frown on her face.
“When I get the supplies in. I have to go down to the hardware store and order them.”
“He doesn’t even do that?” Sara dropped her pizza. “Look, I don’t know much about contracting or renovating, but don’t they bring the supplies with them at least?”
I grabbed another slice of pizza from the box and shoved it in my mouth as I thought fast.
“Yes, I guess, normally, but his work van broke down. It’s in the shop, and I offered to pick up what he needs.”
“What?” Sara peered at me. “I can’t understand you. Since when did you talk with your mouth full? Mom would have a heart attack. They’re sailing around Hawaii now, by the way.”
“Oh, good, I’m glad to hear they’re having a good time. I’ve just been so busy.”
“So, I’ve heard,” Sara said dryly. “Let me get this straight. You hired a ‘Victorian specialist’ from Council Bluffs to renovate the house. He has no car, no supplies, no crew, and he’s staying at the house with you...alone.”
I chewed slowly and beamed. It sounded odd, improbable, and downright dangerous, but frankly most of it was the truth.
“That about sums it up, yes.”
“Well, I want to meet this guy.” Sara rose from the table. “Let’s go find him.”
“What? But I’m not done eating,” I wailed, trying to stall. Where could he be? “For all I know, he’s taken a walk somewhere...maybe up to the cemetery.”
“The cemetery? Why would he do that?”
“Well, I don’t know. I’m not his keeper, am I? I just hired the guy.”
“Oh, come on!” Sara headed for the kitchen door, and I galvanized into action. I reached the door first and opened it, pushing the screen door open.
“Oh, Darren,” I called out through cupped hands. “Darren! Are you out here?” His “new” name came awkwardly to me.
“Can I go outside?” Sara asked with a quirk of a dark eyebrow as I seemed to be blocking her exist.
“Oh, sure.” I moved down the wooden steps to the grass.
“Darren! Helloooo!” I yodeled. I listened carefully but heard only the wind blowing through the corn. Maybe he really had
gone up to the cemetery. My heart ached. I wanted him to come home—no matter what. This is where he belonged.
“Listen to that wind,” Sara said in awed tones.
“Isn’t it great?” I sighed. “It’s one reason I bought the house. I love it.” I turned around. “Well, I guess he’s not out here.” Where was he? A growing sense of urgency was nagging at me. Oh, please, Darius...
I pulled open the screen door and bumped into Darius’s broad chest as I attempted to enter the kitchen.
“Hello, ladies. You were calling?” He held the kitchen door open and gave us a friendly smile.
With Sara close on my heels, I stepped past him into the kitchen—unable to warn him of anything I had told Sara.
“There you are, Darren. Look, my sister has come to visit,” was the only hint I could offer him.
“Wonderful news,” he murmured with composure.
“Hello, Darren. I’m Sara, Molly’s sister.”
I turned to see Sara reaching for Darius’s hand.
“So, I understand you’re staying here while you remodel the house, is that right?”
Darius slid a quick glance toward me and kept his warm smile. I thought I even detected a twinkle in the golden flecks of his blue eyes.
“Yes, that is correct,” he replied without embellishment.
Sara crossed her arms.
“She says your van is in the shop. Any idea when that’s going to be fixed?”
Darius sent another glance in my direction. I sank down at the kitchen table, my shaking legs unwilling to support me adequately any longer. Darius cleared his throat.
“No, it could be some time. Is this dinner? I am famished. May I?”
He pulled out a seat for Sara, who took it with a look of surprise on her face, and then he sat next to me.
He peered at the remaining pizza in the box and seemed to search the table. I knew him well enough by now to know he was probably looking for a plate. I grabbed yet one more piece of pizza, though I thought I would choke if I really had to swallow another bite, and I tapped his foot under the table.
“This pizza is really good. Have some more, Sara.”
“Pizza...” Darius repeated the word as he followed my example and picked up a slice. He took his first bite and chewed it deliberately, as if exploring a new food, which seemed likely.
I searched Sara’s face. She was definitely skeptical.
“No more for me. I’m full, thanks,” Sara said as she kept her gaze on Darius who smiled pleasantly in her direction before dropping his gaze to study his slice with interest.
“Lovely. This tastes lovely. Very spicy,” he murmured.
“I think it’s the basil,” I offered, aware of a surreal atmosphere in the room. Darius explored new foods, I primed him with hints to act normal, and Sara eyed us both with suspicion.
“Basil,” he repeated. “I do not believe I have tasted basil before.”
I kicked him under the table again.
“Of, course, I have heard of basil,” he said airily. “I think perhaps my mother did not like basil and so did not use it.” He bit into his slice of pizza again and smiled beatifically as he chewed.
“Are you from Council Bluffs originally, Darius?”
I tensed as he swallowed, took a napkin and patted his mouth.
“Yes, Council Bluffs, indeed.”
“When did you get into restoring Victorian homes?”
I held my breath for the answer.
“Restoring Victorian homes?” Darius coughed behind his napkin. “Well, many, many years ago.” He grinned again and took another bite of food.
I finished off my last piece of pizza and patted my bloated stomach with a groan.
“Ohhhh, I ate too much,” I mumbled, hoping to add some domestic normalcy into an impossibly bizarre situation.
“I’ll say,” Sara said flatly. “You almost ate the whole thing by yourself.”
To my dismay, she continued to watch Darius closely, though, to his credit, he managed to act as if he didn’t notice. I watched Sara study his clothing, his hair, even nonchalantly looking down to his shoes. Luckily, Darius had shed his jacket, bow tie and vest somewhere.
At one point, Sara opened her mouth to speak and then closed it again, much to my relief. But she couldn’t hold back. Never could.
“Are you licensed and bonded or whatever it is contractors have to be?”
“Sara!” I jumped up. “I already checked all that out. Don’t worry about it. He’s fully qualified to restore the house. Shall we go get your things and take them upstairs? It looks like you’ll be sleeping in my bed with me—just like when we were kids.” I grabbed her arm and pulled her up. “Let’s leave Dari—Darren to his dinner in peace, shall we?” I threw him a quick searching look over my shoulder as I dragged my skeptical sister away. Darius relaxed back in his chair, stretching his long legs before him, and winked. I fought back a responding grin. This was going to be a long week.
I helped Sara grab her bag and took her upstairs, showing her the bathroom and the bedroom. Sara, still throwing occasional suspicious glances down the stairs, said she needed a bath, and I showed her how to work the faucets. Both Sassy and Marmaduke cruised the halls checking out the new guest.
“The plumber is coming tomorrow, so hopefully, things will be better. Here’s a spare towel. Just hang it on the rod over there—” I eyed the rack with two towels already draped on it. I blushed at the intimate implications and hoped Sara didn’t look at my face. She knew me very well.
“Oh!” I gulped. “Well, just hang it on the doorknob. I have to get some laundry done.” I left her to bathe, shut the door, and tiptoed back down the stairs. When I reached the bottom landing, I raced into the kitchen.
Darius was cleaning off the table. I rushed into his arms and mumbled against his chest.
“I can’t believe she came two weeks early. I mean, we were going to have to deal with this anyway, but I was so surprised.”
Darius wrapped his arms around me. I heard a rumbling in his chest, and alarmed, I looked up. His face was contorted into a mask of laughter, and his shoulders shook.
“Well, things have certainly turned exciting, have they not?”
“This isn’t funny! She’s my sister! Do you think I like lying to her like this?”
He sobered. “No, my love. I do not imagine you do. Do you want me to leave? Would that make it easier?”
I reached up to curl my hands around his neck, holding on to him tightly.
“Don’t you dare! Don’t you even think about it. I bought this house because of you. I bought it for us—even though I didn’t know if I would ever see you again. If you leave—I leave.”
Darius cupped my face in his broad hands. His blue eyes sparkled.
“Shhh... There, there now. I love you, Molly. I will not ever leave you—not while you still want me here.”
I pulled him to me with ferocity.
“I’ll always want you here, Darius. Always!” I rose on my toes to kiss him—the man I knew I could not live without.
“Molly!” Sara called from upstairs.
We pulled apart. Darius brought my hand to his lips before he released it reluctantly.
“Yes!” I sang out as I ran my fingers lightly over his chest. “Coming!”
I moved away from Darius and climbed the stairs to find a bottle of cream rinse for Sara who was already immersed in the tub. She asked me to stay and chat.
A short while later, Sara and I descended the stairs to the smell of something sweet in the air. I followed my nose to the kitchen where Darius had laid out three cups of steaming hot chocolate on the kitchen table. He jumped up as we entered and gallantly pulled out chairs. Sara shook her wet hair, pulled back the sleeves of my borrowed robe and settled in with a wary eye in Darius’s direction. I knew the treat that was in store for Sara, and I longed to show Darius my appreciation but forced myself to hold back.
“This looks delicious, Dari...Darren! Thank you!”
“You are welcome, Molly.”
“Try it, Sara. Darren really knows how to make hot chocolate...from scratch.”
“Really?” Sara murmured as she lifted her cup in both hands for a sip. “I thought that was you experimenting with hot chocolate.”
I winced.
Darius and I watched as Sara drank. The knit lines between her eyes eased, and she settled back into her chair. A smile lightened her face.
“This is delicious, Darren. So, how did you make it?”
“An old family recipe. If I shared it, what need would you have of me anymore?” He pretended to mourn.
“Oh, please,” Sara rolled her eyes, but a smile played on her lips nonetheless.
I chuckled inwardly as I hid my face behind my mug. Sara was falling for Darius’s charm. It was inevitable. Who wouldn’t? Now, if only I could keep his name straight.
“I think I’ll go into town and order some of the supplies for the renovation tomorrow, Dari...Darren.” I coughed to cover up the slip. “Don’t forget to put a list together.”
“Ah, I have it here!” Darius produced a sheet of lined paper and laid it on the table. I took one look at it and snatched it off the table and onto my lap.
“Let me see,” Sara said as she craned her neck.
“It’s just a list of stuff,” I demurred.
“Well, let me see anyway.” Sara held out her hand, and I had no excuse for not letting her see the list. I shot Darius a pointed look, but the confusion in his eyes told me he didn’t know what was wrong.
Sara looked at the list and blinked.
“Wow! Where did you learn to write, Darren? Your handwriting is beautiful, almost like calligraphy. In fact, it looks like all the writing we’ve seen on the old census information when we were tracking down our ancestors, doesn’t it, Molly? Look!” She showed me the paper, but I’d already seen it. Darius’s handwriting was beautiful—a style I recognized as copperplate—straight out of the nineteenth century.
“Oh, look at that,” I murmured as if completely surprised. I dared not look at Darius for fear I would either start crying or burst out laughing. At the moment, I had the inclination to do both...at exactly the same time.
“My handwriting!” Darius was nothing if not quick to understand. “Yes, I have indeed been studying calligraphy, as you say, and I am just practicing.” He smiled pleasantly at everyone in general and took a sip of his hot chocolate.
