by Jenny Lykins
Hunter resisted the urge to use his fist to put distance between himself and Kilpatrick. Instead, he remained motionless save for the flexing of the fingers on his right hand.
"Don't be ridiculous, Kilpatrick. I've done nothing to Miss Alexander."
"Her name is Sander! Mari - Alexa - Sander!"
Hunter felt the hair lying across his forehead lift with the S's Kilpatrick blasted across his face.
"Call her whatever you like, but it is barely dawn. Miss Alexander," he stressed the last name, "is still asleep!" He blasted a few of his own S's back at Kilpatrick and was rewarded with a deepening of his early morning visitor's ruddy skin.
Kilpatrick took a step back and drew himself up to his full height, which was almost that of Hunter's. His voice was calm and quiet, and his eyes were absolutely serious.
"I demand to see Mari. I'll not be leavin' 'til I do."
Hunter sighed disgustedly, staring Kilpatrick down.
"Ambrose, go and have Mamie wake Miss Alexander. Tell her that her...betrothed...is here to see her." He continued to glare at Kilpatrick, and vice-versa. Several minutes passed with nothing more than the tick of the clock to break the silence until Mamie called down from the landing.
"Mistah Hunter, Miss Marin ain't in her bed."
He broke his stare only long enough to glance over his shoulder and give Mamie a long-suffering look.
"Then please go and fetch her from wherever she is."
"She ain't in the house. And she ain't in the privy."
A lump suddenly formed in the pit of Hunter's stomach.
"Are you saying you do not know her whereabouts?"
"Yessir, I's sayin' that."
"Pierce!" Hunter barely heard Kilpatrick's rantings as he took the steps two at a time. "If you've harmed a hair on her head, Pierce, you'll have me to answer to!"
Marin's bed was, indeed, empty. But it had been slept in. He threw open the doors to her armoire. A bit of relief rushed through him when he saw her clothing still there.
"Mamie, check and see if one of her gowns is missing."
Mamie rifled through the clothing, shaking her head and muttering to herself, while Hunter checked the upper veranda. Niles had seen fit to follow them to Marin's room, and he wasted no time in poking his nose into every corner. When he moved to open Marin's whatnot box, Hunter decided he'd had enough.
"Do you not think, sir, that the lady is entitled to some privacy?"
Hunter reached over and closed the lid as Niles attempted to open it. The other man's hazel eyes narrowed, but his hand stayed on the box.
"I seek only to be finding if me Mari left of her own accord, or if there is reason to be suspecting foul play."
This man was begging to be introduced to Hunter's fist.
"Do you insinuate I would play foul with the employees in my home?"
"I don't remember bein' specific, Pierce. Do ye hold a guilty conscience?"
*******
Marin stood on the bluffs and watched the river run black. The white gauzy fabric of her dress fluttered and billowed around her with the dancing breeze. The moon, full and white, hung low over the Arkansas horizon. A million stars winked at her from the black velvet sky. A river of moonlight cut across the dark waters, ending at the shore below her.
A moon river, she thought sadly.
She drew in a deep, cleansing breath of the sharp-scented air and sank to the grass as she exhaled.
She had come here to think, but her mind refused to do anything but wander. She imagined that was a sanity-retaining mechanism. If she thought too much about this night's events...
If she could even be sure of exactly what she had experienced. Had it been a dream? If it was, it was the most realistic, yet at the same time surreal, dream she'd ever had. There was a time when she would have rolled her eyes with a muttered "Yeah, sure," at the slightest suggestion that she may have, indeed, experienced the whole thing.
She shivered and rubbed her arms fiercely. It had to have been a dream. If it wasn't, that meant she - or her body - was alive in 1996. Had she lost complete control of her life? Did she have a choice of staying with Hunter, going back to her time, or...being with Ryan?
There. She'd finally let herself think about them. The ache in her chest was worse than she'd expected.
Oh, Ryan. Her fantastic, perfect, funny, warm Ryan. How wonderful it had been to see his face again. How tempting it was to go with him.
And Hunter. Why had his ghost shown more life than the flesh and blood man? Why did she feel that he'd called her to him across time?
Was it a dream, or did she hover somewhere between past and present, life and death?
She skimmed her hands across the grass beside her, collecting the droplets of dew on her fingers. She rubbed her hands together to warm them, then flinched as a pain shot up her wrist.
The moonlight shone on the back of her hand, and Marin heard the blood roaring in her head. As she brought her hand slowly to her face to inspect it, every nerve in her body came alive.
On the back of her left hand, the pale, porcelain skin - so different from her skin in 1996 - was bruised a deep purple. The kind of bruise made by an I.V.
*******
Every window in the house was alight, and the activity from afar looked like ants preparing for the winter.
As she walked up the drive to the front of the house, Marin wondered if the place was always this active before daybreak. She couldn't remember any special plans for this morning.
Suddenly her stomach rolled. She prayed that Lucille hadn't returned.
Stopping with her hand on the doorknob, she debated whether to barge right in or sneak around back and avoid the witch for as long as possible.
The knob flew from her grasp as the door was yanked open, and Hunter charged through at a run.
"Ambrose, have Nathan saddle my - OOF!"
Marin bounced off Hunter's chest and would have fallen if his steely grip had not grasped her arms.
"Marin!"
He pulled her to him, but stopped just short of enveloping her in his arms. Instead he released her so quickly they both staggered backward.
"Where have you been? I was preparing to send out a search party! Have you any idea how dangerous it is for a woman to be out alone in the middle of the night?"
Marin brushed passed him, trying not to let her shoulders slump. Her heart had taken flight for that brief moment when he'd pulled her to him. Now she would do well to get to her room without her disappointment showing.
"Try walking around in 1996 if you think this is bad," she muttered, then stepped into the foyer only to groan at who met her there.
"Mari, me love! Where had ye gotten yourself off to? Why, I was worried sick, I was. Ye should be knowin' better - "
Marin threw her head back, giving in to the sigh threatening to escape her lungs.
"Mr. Kilpatrick, why are you here at the crack of dawn?"
Niles stopped dead in his tracks on his way to what Marin expected was a bear hug. He tilted his head in question, then his eyes narrowed and his gaze slid to Hunter, who was leaning against the doorframe, a casual observer.
"And since when am I Mr. Kilpatrick to ye, love? Is that how ye intend to address me after we're wed?"
Oh God, give me strength, Marin thought when she looked into Niles's hurt, hazel eyes.
"Niles." He brightened. She sighed. "Let's go into the parlor. We need to talk."
She didn't miss the glare he shot Hunter, nor the one Hunter returned as she and Niles disappeared into the parlor.
Marin motioned for Niles to precede her. When she turned to pull the doors together Hunter still stood at the front door. His back was to her as he stared into the pearly gray dawn. He stood for a moment, then his chin dropped to his chest and he slammed the door shut with a flick of his wrist.
She turned to Niles, who scooped her into his arms before she could speak.
"Ah, me little Mari. It's been so long, darlin'. Say ye'll w
ed me this very day."
Marin started to struggle but found she lacked the will to bother.
"Put me down, Niles."
"Not until ye say ye'll marry me today."
"Niles, we need to talk about that - "
"And talk we shall. Can ye have your bags packed by noon? Ye cannot imagine how frustrating it was, to come callin' on ye only to have these darkies tellin' me such nonsense about a death in the family, or that ye be busy with ‘Mistah Hunter's chile.'" He drew out Hunter's name with an overdone southern accent. "Ye'll not be a nanny to any man's bastard as long as I - "
"Don't you dare call Katie a bastard! Put me down! NOW!"
Niles stared at her with a look of disbelief, then slowly, almost challengingly, lowered her feet to the floor. He left his arm around her. She shrugged off his hold and walked away. Turning, she said, "Niles, I can't marry you."
Niles looked hard at her first, then stared at the wall, as if he could see through it to where Hunter had last stood.
"It's him, then. He's courtin' ye. He's only lookin' for a mother - "
"How flattering that you think he'd only want me as a mother to his child, but no, Hunter is not courting me." He could barely stand to touch her. She stifled a sigh before continuing. "You have to understand. I've had...something... happen to me. The accident...well, I'm not the same person you knew in St. Louis."
Niles crossed to her in two strides and placed his hands gently on her arms.
"Why do ye say that, darlin'? You're the self-same Mari I fell in love with."
Marin closed her eyes and shook her head. It would serve no purpose to tell this man her name was not Mari. He seemed to be a very nice person, and she hated to hurt him, but there was no way she was going to marry him.
She met his gaze, her eyes deadly serious, as his hands rubbed up and down her arms. There was no magic in his touch, as there would be if it were Hunter's hands on her.
"Niles, whatever we had before, I don't remember. I don't remember you, or us, or St. Louis. I'm not going to marry you. I'm going to stay right here in this house for as long as - "
"Ye say ye don't remember the night I asked ye to be my wife? After ye said yes I slipped tht ring on your finger, then carried ye to - "
"I don't remember." She backed away until he released his hold on her arms. He stood there with his palms up, as if asking for answers. "Please don't make this any harder than it is." She pulled the ruby ring from her left hand and gently placed it in his palm. Dear Lord, she hadn't even known it was an engagement ring.
His fingers curled over the ring, and he dropped his hand to his side in defeat.
"Very well. I'll not be forcing the issue. But I'll not accept this and walk away. I'll be stayin' with the Richardsons at least a fortnight. If ye change your mind, ye can find me there." Marin didn't bother to tell him she had no idea who the Richardsons were or where they lived. "And I'll be seein' ye again before I return to St. Louis."
He snatched a black derby from a chair and threw the doors open, obviously expecting to catch Hunter lurking on the other side. Fortunately, both foyer and staircase were empty.
He swung back to face her. "This is not over, Mari."
When she didn't answer, he turned on his heel and stalked out of the house.
*******
So, she was going to hold to her ridiculous story of being from the future.
"Try walking around in 1996, indeed," Hunter muttered to himself as his horse galloped down the road to Mississippi.
Not for the first time, he wondered about his own sanity in allowing this very odd woman to remain under his roof. Now that he had a daughter to consider, perhaps he should retain a governess who didn't believe she was inhabiting someone else's body.
Dear God. When he allowed himself to think about it in those terms, the whole story sounded even more preposterous.
He spent the two hour ride into Mississippi trying to convince himself to rid his home of Miss Marin Alexander, or Mari Sander, or whoever the hell she was. He could come up with dozens of reasons to dismiss her and not one reason to allow her to stay. Except that he didn't want her to go. Simple as that. He just didn't want her to go.
He felt sorry for her. That was it! She'd lost her mother and had nowhere to go. He felt partially responsible for her present mental condition, considering she was on her way to his employ, and in his carriage with his driver, no less, when the accident happened. Why, he owed it to her to keep her on.
Unless Kilpatrick convinces her to marry him and leave.
Just the thought of the man caused Hunter's lip to curl into a snarl. He shoved all thoughts of the troublesome pair from his mind as he turned his horse up the pebble drive to Tranquille. He had more things to worry about than a crazy employee and her future husband.
Hunter studied the beautiful, old home through the trees, and his heart warmed as he approached.
Tranquille. The childhood home of his Grandmother Pierce. The home was as peaceful as its name. He had come here at the age of ten to regain his strength after nearly dying with yellow fever, and it had been dear to his heart ever since.
Grandfather and Grandmother Pierce had been in residence at the time, having given Pierce Hall to his father. His grandmother had seen to it that he had daily exercise, fresh air and plenty of hearty food.
Hunter could almost hear her voice now, with the slight accent of her French-born father. "My little one," she would croon while sifting her fingers through his hair, "You will be better soon. You will grow to be a fine man."
Hunter could barely remember his arrival to Tranquille as that young boy. Even though he was ten years of age, he'd come through his illness remembering nothing, not even his parents or grandparents. His grandmother had spent hours at a time reminding him of childhood memories until the memories became familiar to him.
Perhaps that was the reason he felt as he did toward Marin. She had no one to hold her close and tell her she would be fine. No one except him, for Kilpatrick would surely have no patience with her story.
As he led Mystic to the front of the house, the massive front door creaked open and William limped to the steps. His weathered, black face split into a huge, white grin when he recognized Hunter.
Hunter leapt from his horse directly onto the porch and slapped the smiling old servant on the back with enthusiasm.
"Mistah Hunter, you devil. We didn't get no message sayin' you was comin'. But, dang, it good to see you. I'll get Maggie to make up a room for you."
Hunter shook his head, touched by the old man's affection. "I didn't send a message, William. And I won't be staying overnight. I found myself on the road to Mississippi, so I decided to ride down and check the crops."
"They's disappointin', suh. Between the boll weevils and that there fungus, we done lost a third of the plantin'. I's figurin' we'll harvest about half when it's all said and done."
That was disconcerting news. He'd been counting on that crop. Hunter craned his neck and inspected the exterior of the house. All seemed to be in good repair, thanks to William and Maggie. After the war they had stayed on at Tranquille, closing up all but two rooms of the house. They used those two rooms to live in, and they'd made repairs and maintained the home with the money Hunter sent them every month. Money that would come less often if the crops failed.
William must have sensed Hunter's concern. "The house in good shape, Mistah Hunter. Me and Maggie checked all the rooms just last week, and all she needed was a shingle or two fixed and a new pane of glass in your old bedroom. The rooms can wait for a new coat of paint until we has us a good harvest."
Hunter patted William's shoulder and steered him into the house. He didn't want the old servant standing on his feet too long.
"I've been craving a cup of Maggie's coffee and a thick slice of her nut bread. Do I stand a chance of getting either?"
William's grin spread from ear to ear. "Whooee, Mistah Hunt. Maggie done baked some bread this mornin'. She naggin' at me
to keep my thievin' fingers off it 'til it cools. Ha! She ain't gonna keep us from it now!"
When they entered the fragrant kitchen Maggie, twin sister to Mamie, was stirring a pot on the stove and holding the small of her back. When she looked up she let out a whoop that could peel wallpaper. Hunter opened his arms to her, bestowing his most devilish smile, at the same time planting his feet, bracing himself.
"There's my baby! You give your ol' Maggie a hug this here minute!" Maggie lumbered toward Hunter at top speed, not even slowing as she threw her massive arms around him. In spite of the braced legs, he staggered backward from the assault of Maggie's affection.
"I knowed I baked that bread for somebody asides that polecate William. Oh, my baby done come to see me!"
Hunter had been Maggie's "baby" since he'd come there to recover from yellow fever. No amount of persuasion kept her from calling him that in front of anyone and everyone. He still inwardly cringed at the thought of a certain picnic when he was fifteen.
"You sit yourself down here and let ol' Maggie fix you some breakfast." She cocked her head and studied him with a practiced eye. "Ain't that Mamie feedin' my baby up there in Memphis? You look scrawny as a scarecrow."
There had always been a gentle rivalry between the sisters. Hunter smiled, basking in Maggie's fussing. "You think anyone you can get your arms around is scrawny," he teased.
"Hhmph," was Maggie's only response as she busied herself cracking eggs and slicing bacon. Hunter wasn't the least bit hungry, but he knew Maggie would take it personally if he failed to do justice to her cooking.
After polishing off a second breakfast of eggs, grits, bacon, fried tomatoes and fresh biscuits, Hunter declined the thick slice of nut bread he'd originally craved.
"Well, I's gonna wrap it up for you just the same. You needs somethin' to hold you on your trip back to Memphis."
No use in telling her he'd eaten enough to hold him for two days. She wouldn't believe him. She wrapped an entire loaf of nutbread and shoved it into Hunter's protesting hands as he and William headed for the barn.
