Lost Yesterday

by Jenny Lykins

  Looking to the ceiling of the cotton barn, she slid her arms above her head, stretching with all the feline grace of a lazy cat in the sun. As she stretched she sighed a musical, satisfied sigh.

  "Penny for your thoughts." Hunter rolled to his side and dragged her even closer.

  She smiled and looked at him from the corners of her eyes.

  "I'm wondering what Lucille would say if she saw us here, like this. Or in the gazebo by the lake; or the lake itself, for that matter; or in your old treehouse at the back of the orchard." She giggled. "And I haven't figured out yet how we ended up under the dining room table last night. One minute we were in the parlor and the next we were - "

  "Momentum." Hunter's body tingled at the word and the image it evoked. "Shall I demonstrate?"

  Marin rolled toward him, her voice like the purr of a cat.

  "Please do."

  A playful growl rose in his throat while he hooked a leg around her firm, milky thighs. He ached to sear a trail of kisses along her sweat-dampened skin, but the very first attempt gained him a mouthful of fuzz. They both laughed like children, then she helped him remove the offending cotton from his lips...and other places.

  Could he ever get enough of this woman?

  "I don't know where yo mama and papa is, Miss Katie. We done looked ever where they is to look. Ain't no reason I can figure for thems to be in the cotton gin shed."

  Marin's hand flew to her mouth to muffle first a gasp and then a giggle. Hunter stifled a prolific curse that begged to be voiced. Instead, he grabbed the edges of the quilt and wrapped himself and Marin into a giant, lumpy cocoon. They both fought to remain absolutely motionless as William and Katie moved deeper into the barn.

  "But Papa promised to take me for a ride on my pony if I took a nap! He didn't forget, did he?"

  Their voices came closer.

  "No, Miss Katie. I's sure yo papa didn't forget. Mebbe him and yo

  mama - "

  William stopped talking abruptly and completely. Several seconds of uncertain silence ticked by while Marin's eyes widened above the hand she had clamped over her mouth and nose. Hunter had the terrible feeling she was about to erupt in a fit of giggles...or sneezes.

  "Why, Miss Katie," William veritably shouted, "I believe I sees yo mama and papa at the edge of them woods. Mebbe if we hurries we can catch 'em."

  The sound of tiny feet running across a dirt floor faded in the air. The slower clomp of William's followed moments later.

  Funny, Hunter had never before noticed that William, too, wheezed when he laughed.

  *******

  "Hunter, I've been thinking about the cotton crop and our financial situation." Marin paused and assessed her husband's reaction from across the parlor the next morning. Though he had proven to be amazingly ahead of his time in many areas, she was not quite sure how he would accept business advice from a woman. Nineteenth century men - even the good ones - were woefully obtuse.

  He lowered the newspaper he'd been perusing and gave her his attention.

  "What are your thoughts on the matter, Sweetheart?"

  That was promising. She pressed on.

  "Have you ever thought we might be sitting on a gold mine here?"

  He quirked an eyebrow at her.

  "What I mean is, look around you! You have an honest to goodness Southern plantation, a little worse for wear, but just a little. It's very nearly the same as it was before the war. You still grow cotton; you still have most of your grandparents' furnishings and heirlooms; the house is breathtaking and in good repair." Here was where it could get tricky. "Don't you suppose people would pay to come and see a real working Southern plantation? To catch a glimpse of what life was like before the war?"

  "You mean open Tranquille to the public? Charge admission? As if it were a circus?" He dropped the paper to his lap, and her heart dropped with it. "I do not believe I would care to have the populace roaming through my home. Besides, I could not gamble what funds we have on making the necessary repairs - "

  "But you wouldn't have to!" Marin slid to the edge of the seat beside Hunter and clasped her hands. "Leave Tranquille as it is. Let the Northerners, the ones who would be most curious, see it in its post-war state. We could even take them to the ruins of some homes that fell during the war, to show how fortunate we are to have the ones still remaining. The devastation of the war has made Tranquille and all the rest of the surviving plantations a valuable asset to this part of the country. With these homes as a living legacy, the generations to come will be able to see first hand what life was like for the people of the genteel South."

  If only he believed her about being from the future. She could describe to him the looks of awe on faces that had never seen the grandeur of such a lifestyle. There'd been times when she'd watched tourists transport themselves to the days of their ancestors, that far away look in their eyes seeing glittering ladies and dashing gentlemen sitting through an evening's musicale or playing croquet in the sun at an elegant lawn party. She'd seen visitors wipe away tears at the sight of slaves' quarters, seen their watery smiles at heartwarming stories of loyalty between master and servant. These homes were priceless museums. And with her twentieth century experience in managing antebellum estates, Tranquille could be the source of income that would relieve the burden caused by the crop failure.

  Hunter, however, seemed more interested in his newspaper than in her brilliant plans. He rattled the paper, murmured, "I'll give it some thought," then buried his nose in the financial section.

  She bristled at this "man thing" that had always irritated her. She'd shredded her weight in newspapers when Ryan was alive.

  But Hunter wasn't Ryan, and she had to handle her new husband with the mentality of a nineteenth century woman.

  Hunter glanced at her over the top of the newspaper, a distracted grin creasing his left cheek with that devilish dimple. Her heart fluttered at the sight.

  What an idiot! She knew exactly how to get his attention.

  She reached over and gently crumpled the center of the paper to half-mast. When Hunter slowly lifted his gaze she closed her fist on the paper, pulled it inexorably out of his grasp, then tossed the thing over her shoulder. Sliding onto his lap, she sifted her fingers through his hair, twirled a lock around one, then left the hair to concentrate on tracing the outline of his ear. Squirming once under the ruse of getting more comfortable, she determined - even through all those layers of clothing - that she very much had his complete and undivided attention.

  "Hunter, could we finish talking about this open house idea?"

  Hunter's eyes had closed and it was clear he was in no mood to talk business. He opened his eyes to sensual slits while his hands began burning trails across her bodice.

  "Must we?" He groaned when she captured both his roaming hands in hers. "Oh, very well. I see the validity of your idea, Sweetheart, but I have to say I am not at all comfortable with people traipsing through our home day in and day out." He lowered his eyebrows and nailed her with a torrid gaze. "When would we ever have a moment's privacy?"

  It was getting harder and harder to think clearly, sitting on Hunter's lap, stilling his busy hands.

  "We wouldn't have to open up year 'round." Her breathing became a bit erratic as his hands found their freedom. "I mean, we could open, say...four times...ummmm...a year. For a week or two. We could decorate the house for holidays. Maybe open up the first weeks - " She gasped when his hands hit paydirt. " - of December to show off the decorations and how you prepare for the spring planting." She fought to keep her mind on track when it was telling her to shut up and lock the parlor doors. "Then...ooohhhh...we could ummmm...we could open in the spring for the planting. Then during the summer and again at harvest." It was nearly impossible to keep her voice even while his lips rained kisses under her ear. "Eight weeks a year. That's all it would be. And no overnight guests. Just day trips. With the river in the backyard we could...ummmm...get all the riverboats to stop. Maybe serve them...ooooh
hhhh"

  His warm breath ghosted across her neck as he worked his way to her lips. His mouth on hers, he murmured quietly, "Whatever you say. It's a wonderful idea. Now shut up and kiss me."

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  The bundle of energy that was his daughter jumped from the carriage in a flurry of yellow ruffles, almost before they rolled to a stop. As if on cue, Puffy and Angel rounded the corner of Pierce Hall at a tilt, two furry missiles that came together to form a slobbering, mewing welcome committee for the delighted, squealing child. The three of them frolicked on the lawn with undiluted joy.

  Hunter bounded from the carriage with some excessive energy of his own, then turned and looked up into the treasured face of his bride as he waited to hand her down. She shivered when his hands encircled her waist in a slow caress. With teasing, exaggerated ardor she melted against him. Her arms cradled his head while he nuzzled her stiff, boned midriff with his cheek. If only the layers of bone and cotton and silk would fall away...but they would soon enough. He lost himself in the feel of her fingers sifting through the back of his hair and the scent of her that would forever be her own. With a sigh borne of contentment he wondered if life could possibly get any better.

  "Ahem."

  Well, hell. That would teach him to ever get too happy. The fact that he had not heard her approach irritated him. He held Marin a moment longer, took one more deep breath of her intoxicating scent, then braced himself and turned to Lucille.

  "Good afternoon, Mother." A biting retort formed in his mind for her inevitable, venomous greeting.

  "Good afternoon, Hunter. Marin."

  A summer breeze could have blown him over. Where was the expected tirade over their unseemly behavior in broad daylight? Her sneer at the very sight of his wife? Why, she had greeted them in a manner surprisingly close to pleasant!

  An awkward silence fell and several seconds passed while Hunter tried to overcome his shock. Finally Lucille shot an uncomfortable glance back at the house.

  "I will see to it that Mamie knows you are here for dinner." Before he could reply she vanished through the front door.

  Hunter stared at the closed, dark oak panel, expecting her to re-emerge and vent her rage at him for not following immediately on her heels. When the door remained closed he turned to Marin and shrugged, completely at a loss to explain this unusual behavior.

  His unpredictable wife smiled sweetly with an air of unconcern.

  "Lucille and I had a little talk before we left for Tranquille," she said in answer to his bewilderment.

  "A little talk?" he echoed. "What, pray tell, did you say in this 'little talk?'" He lifted her down from the carriage while waiting for an answer.

  "Oh," she began as she peeled off her gloves, "just how life will be more simple if everyone is pleasant to everyone else."

  "Pleasant?" He was beginning to sound like a parrot. For the life of him, he could not imagine his mother pleasant.

  "Uh-huh. Just a little food for thought while we were away. Come along, Katie, and wash up for dinner." She reached up on tiptoe and planted a kiss on his jaw. "I'm starving."

  Marin waited while Katie separated herself from the tumbling animals. Puffy gamboled along while Angel dangled limply from Katie's tiny forearm. Angel's feline eyes closed to green slits, her ears flattened in long-suffering boredom, but she made no attempt to dislodge herself.

  Hunter could only stare, dumbfounded, as his wife and his daughter swished into the cool interior of the house.

  "She told her to be pleasant?" he asked himself. He would like to imagine that was all that had transpired. But knowing his fiery wife and his sainted mother, not a force on earth could convince him that the conversation was as innocent as portrayed.

  "Mistah Hunt, you gonna stand out there all day catchin' flies? Dinner done been on the table 'til it's cold."

  Yet another female caught him unawares as Mamie attacked from the rear. Could he be losing his hearing? He turned and nodded to the stable boy as the horses were led away, then grinned at Mamie.

  "I'm coming, you tyrant."

  Mamie snorted her opinion of his sass, then waddled back from whence she had come, muttering.

  "Disrespectful young pup. Emmaletta gonna go to work for the Hilliards, then who be doin' the cookin'? Well, it ain't gonna be me. I's got enough to do around here without..."

  No. He definitely was not losing his hearing.

  *******

  Marin sat at Hunter's desk, working on the figures for opening Tranquille. Just as she thought, the initial cost would be minimal. They could make this work!

  Massaging her lower back and popping the kinks out of her neck, she rose to go find Hunter and tell him the good news. As she passed a gilt-framed mirror on the staircase she paused to check her finger-ravaged hair.

  "So there you are." He came up behind her and slid his arms around her waist. "I've missed you." His lips nibbled the length of her neck, turning her blood to warm, thick honey. She leaned against his chest, his clean scent engulfing them both and stirring the flutter in her breast that his nearness always caused. "I thought we were going to work on the plans to open Tranquille. Where did you disappear to after dinner?"

  His mouth hummed against her skin when he spoke. She rolled her head to the side to make more room for the delicious things he was doing.

  "Ummmm." She lost herself for a moment in a swirl of heated sensations before bothering to answer his question. "You looked so tired, I decided to work on them and surprise you."

  Hunter's only response was to dip his head and trail kisses along her bare shoulder, smothering all thoughts of Tranquille and open houses.

  "I'm not as tired as I look," he growled against her neck.

  "Does Mawin have a boo-boo, Papa?"

  Hunter's lips stopped in their exquisite journey, stilled by the most effective birth control known to man.

  "'Cause Mawin kisses my boo-boo when I hurt myself."

  Katie stood at the bottom of the stairs, fresh from her bath and ready for bed. Her little pink toes peeked from beneath the soft, cotton nightie, and the doll tucked under her arm wore matching attire. She stood, her head tilted back, looking up at the two of them, waiting for an answer.

  Hunter kneaded Marin's shoulders while he asked in a most serious voice, "Just exactly what is a 'boo-boo?' Good lord, that word is as disgusting as 'Puffy!' I shall endeavor never to repeat it."

  Katie giggled. Marin turned a smile on him. Poor baby. Obviously Lucille had never seen fit to deal with a little boy's mishaps in the time-honored manner.

  "A boo-boo, Mr. Too-manly-to-say-certain-words, is something that hurts. And a kiss always makes it feel better."

  With male predictability, Hunter's eyes lit up at her words just before he leered at her in his best lascivious manner. He said in a voice only Marin could hear, "Well then, I believe I have a boo-boo that requires quite a bit of attention later." He turned to Katie and swung her into his arms. "Now tell me, where are all these boo-boos? On your nose?" He kissed her nose. "Behind your ear?" He growled a kiss on her ear. "The tip of your little finger? I know! On your foot!" He held one leg by the ankle and closely inspected the pudgy little foot. He shook his head. "Nothing there. Must be the other foot." He performed the same ritual. "Nothing. Oh! I forgot to look at the bottom!"

  He dropped the arm Katie perched on and she swung upside-down in screaming delight as Hunter studied the pink, baby soft bottoms of her feet. He raised his arms aloft until Katie's face dangled in front of his.

  "I cannot find a boo-boo. Are you certain you have one?" Katie's arms hung trustingly limp as she giggled, wild in the ecstasy of her father's attention. "What? Was that a yes or a no? You really must speak more clearly if I am to kiss these boo-boos. Ah well, I shall do my best."

  He lowered his arms and planted a loud, squeaky kiss on the bottom of each chubby foot, then tucked her under his arm like a football player going for the goal.

  "Lordy, lordy, Mistah Hunter!" Mamie l
umbered down the stairs as fast as her girth would allow. "You's gonna fluster that youngun 'til she won't never go to sleep!"

  Marin wished Mamie had timed her arrival a little later. The playful scene between father and daughter was so heartwarming she hated to see it end. What a good father he was. With a touch of melancholy she wondered if he would ever see a child born from their own union.

  "Here now! What's you doin', holdin' Miss Katie like a sack o' meal? If'n you don't watch out, you gonna make her lose her supper."

  Hunter did nothing but grin a huge, little boy grin that creased his cheeks until his dimples had shadows.

  "Now, Mamie, I was performing a very important service. Apparently unkissed boo-boos are nothing to sneeze at."

  Mamie panted down the remaining stairs, then planted her feet wide and stood with fists where a waist should have been.

  "Don't you give me no sweet-talkin' sass. Now you tells that child goodnight so's I can calm her down and tuck her into bed."

  Hunter lowered his eyes with an exaggerated look of repentance. Then a mischievous smile broke across his face as he grabbed the tiny flailing ankles in front of him and dangled Katie at eye level once more.

  "Good night, Katiedid," he said with a deadpan face. The hysterical child slid her arms around her father's neck and squeezed, stopping her giggling only long enough to smack a kiss on his cheek. Hunter swung her around, her body arcing out like an amusement park ride, until she faced Marin.

  "Give your mother a hug and kiss before this old tyrant ruins all of our fun."

  Hunter's words echoed in Marin's brain, and she repeated them to herself, hugging the words to her heart. Mother! As much as she loved this curly-haired cherub, she had never expected to be considered her mother. A heartstring tugged as her newly acquired daughter delivered an energetic, inverted hug and a kiss the consistency of wet liver onto Marin's cheek.

  "Good night, Mama."