Spinning Through Time

by Barbara Baldwin

  “I want to stay up,” the five year old complained, even as she rubbed tired eyes.

  They had already celebrated a full day — gift giving with the servants; a marvelous dinner of turkey with oyster stuffing and all the trimmings; and singing as the Yule log was lit.

  “If you stay up, Santa won’t visit, and we won’t get to take that sleigh ride your Uncle promised.”

  “I know,” Amanda said on a sigh as her eyes drifted closed. Jaci bent to kiss her forehead, and then blew out the light on the night table.

  Silently, she descended the stairs to the main floor, took her wrap from the hook and bundled up. Hoping not to disturb anyone, she let herself out into the night.

  In the rush of getting ready for Christmas, she had pushed aside her conversation with Nancy Schaffer. Always, though, in the back corner of her mind, she had hoped to be home with her sister at Christmas. Even if her practical side said it was not to be. If, as Nancy assured her, she would know her purpose and recognize her window to return, she could do little but wait.

  The air froze in her lungs as she inhaled. Snow swirled about her boots and tried to sneak past the fur that lined her cloak and hood. She couldn’t stay out long; she’d freeze even with the layers of wool she wore and the benefits of her fur lined muff. For a few minutes, though, she wanted to feel open space around her, even if the gray, snow-laden skies of Pennsylvania weren’t the wide-open blue that Texas boasted.

  “I imagine this isn’t the kind of winter you’ve had in the past.” Nicholas voiced her very thoughts from behind her, and immediately Jaci felt warmer.

  His features were somewhat obscured by the night and the fact that the fur fringing her face softened her gaze. She raised a hand to slip her hood back to see him better, but he reached out to stop her, his touch warm on her wrist.

  “Don’t; you’ll catch cold.” He settled her hood back in place, but his fingers lingered on her cheek. She tilted her face towards his warmth.

  “Why so sad? Christmas should be a time of joy and laughter.”

  “I miss...” she began, tears choking her reply. She gave a slight shake of her head and turned away.

  “Jaci.” He enfolded her in his arms as he whispered her name. She didn’t object as he pulled her back against his chest. They stood in silence among the swirling snowflakes and midnight sky.

  He hugged her tighter, and she felt the stirrings of desire. No, it wasn’t desire she felt. The warmth spreading through her chest and surrounding her heart was more than desire; something much deeper and more lasting. Nicholas had slowly infiltrated her heart with his smile and had quietly unearthed her strongest feelings with his gentleness and caring. Jaci, the cynic, had come to realize that love did exist.

  Oh, please, don’t let me love this man. It wouldn’t be fair to him, and I would die when it came time to leave.

  “Do you know how right this feels — to have you here at Wildwood?” He whispered close to her ear.

  “Amanda is a sweetheart, and I appreciate the fact you let me stay as her governess. I don’t know that I ever thanked you for that.”

  He turned her in his arms and tilted her chin with a finger. Even in the dim light from the house, she saw the silver glitter of his gaze.

  “You know good and well it’s not Amanda’s care to which I refer.”

  Of course she knew; but it wouldn’t do any good to admit it.

  “Jaci, I love you.”

  “No, no you don’t.” She covered his mouth with her hand, hoping to block the words, but they hovered between them and Nicholas didn’t appear to want them back. “You don’t know anything about me; we argue constantly and I don’t do what I’m told.” She glanced back and forth, anywhere but at his face, looking for more excuses.

  “And that’s one of the reasons I love you.” He pulled her closer, their hips meshing.

  Panic welled in her chest. She didn’t love him; she didn’t; and it wasn’t fair of him to love her. “You love Lycinda.”

  “No,” he said, shaking his head.

  “You’re supposed to marry her. Her father said so.”

  “No.” He grinned at her; that silly, little boy grin that lit his eyes and made her heart melt.

  “You can’t. I can’t.” She said with dejection as she twisted out of his grip and stepped away from his embrace.

  “Why not?”

  Damn, he was persistent.

  “I already told you. You don’t know—”

  “I know that you’re lovely and stubborn and spirited and argumentative at times. I also know you love Amanda as much as I do and usually your arguments are on her behalf.” He paused, and she wondered if he wanted her to argue with him now.

  “There’s more to me than that; things you can’t even begin to imagine.” It wasn’t simply that she came from a different century. She couldn’t allow him to love her when she didn’t know what was to become of her.

  “Then tell me your secret so we can get on with our lives.”

  “I...I can’t.” She rushed towards the door, aching for his touch but knowing it unfair to take what he offered when she couldn’t give in return. As she hurried inside, his words echoed behind her.

  “I love you, Jaci Eastman. I won’t give up!”

  * * *

  Jaci slept fitfully that night, dreaming of Nicholas and declarations of love. “If only...if only...” she mumbled in her sleep.

  “Wake up, wake up, it’s Christmas day!” Amanda bounced on her bed and her eyes flew open. In that short space of time between sleeping and waking, she was back in her bed in Dallas; Mandy clamoring at her to wake up and see what Santa brought. As she scooted out of bed, her bare feet hitting the cold, wood floors, she sent a silent wish for a Merry Christmas across the century to her sister.

  “Okay, okay, Amanda. Merry Christmas to you, too.” She hugged the little girl before heading for the privacy screen. “You might as well wake your uncle up, and I’ll meet you downstairs in a few minutes.”

  As soon as Amanda left, Jaci washed her hands and face in the water provided in the pitcher. Glancing at her reflection in the mirror as she brushed her hair, she decided she needed to dress before going downstairs. Her puffy eyes looked bad enough; there was no reason for Nicholas to see her in her nightgown and robe.

  Nicholas. What was she going to do about him? Jaci’s hands fumbled with dress buttons as she recalled their conversation last night. I love you. His words warmed her heart and gave her goose bumps at the same time.

  She had wanted to seduce him; she still did, but lust was different from love. Besides, that was before she had found out there would be a window for her to return to Dallas. Now? She didn’t know what she wanted.

  “Miss Eastman?” Amanda’s voice came from down the hall and Jaci closed her mind to the might-have-beens and descended the stairs with a Christmas smile on her face.

  There were more presents under the tree than had been there last night. Jaci wondered when Nicholas had time to shop.

  “Merry Christmas to you,” he said softly as he handed her a cup of coffee on a delicate china saucer.

  “Thank you,” she returned, taking the coffee and letting her gaze linger over his appearance. His hair was pulled back, as always, but he had dressed casually in tailored slacks and a shirt open at the throat, covered with a satin, smoking-style jacket. His face was clean shaven, the creases around his mouth deepening as he smiled. She realized she was staring.

  “You can have your heart’s wish, you know. All you have to do is ask.” He leaned close to whisper.

  “I don’t...I wasn’t...” Jaci sputtered.

  He laughed and left her standing in the middle of the parlor. She took a gulp of coffee. The nerve of that man — to think she was staring at him because she wanted him. Even if she did, it was very impolite of him to notice.

  She settled in a chair close to the fire as Amanda passed out her gifts. She had drawn pictures for her uncle and Jaci — a horse for him and a field
of flowers for Jaci. When Jaci asked who the two little girls were in the middle of the flowers, Amanda whispered, “Me and Mandy,” and Jaci cried.

  Nicholas insisted Jaci pass out her presents next and leave his for last. Self-consciously, she handed him a small wrapped package. Amanda had already claimed her larger box in which Jaci had wrapped a riding habit and a jaunty little hat. She squealed excitedly when she opened the lid.

  Jaci had agonized over what to buy Nicholas. She knew the rules governing gift buying must be radically different here than in her time. To tell the truth, even after living under the same roof as he for the past three months, she didn’t know his tastes, except in brandy, which she refused to purchase.

  “The Gilded Age,” he read the title out loud when he unwrapped the book. “This is Twain’s newest treatise on the ruin of mankind, isn’t it?”

  “You’ve read it,” Jaci stated, disappointed.

  “No, I haven’t. Thomas mentioned last week how hilariously Twain wrote, but I’ve had little time to read.” He smiled in thanks. “This will make a most welcome addition to my library.”

  “Now open Uncle Nicholas’ present,” Amanda interrupted as she shoved a package into Jaci’s lap.

  As she opened her present, Nicholas got up and slid a wooden chest from behind the tree. She recognized the trunk which Nicholas had consigned Gustav Dentzel to make for Amanda. When Nicholas saw her watching him, he put a finger to his lips, his eyes twinkling.

  She glanced down at the box in her lap. On a bed of soft satin lay a miniature carousel horse, cast in silver. “Oh, my,” she breathed as she lifted the delicate piece from its cushion. The carving was intricate, every detail revealed in the lines and etching in the metal.

  “It’s a music box,” Nicholas supplied.

  Jaci wound the figurine and set it on the table at the side of the chair. A tinkling melody, reminiscent of the waltz she remembered dancing at the Wildwood ball, floated about the room as the carousel horse gracefully turned on its center pole.

  Tears blurred her vision as she glanced up at Nicholas. “Thank you; it’s beautiful.” The words seemed inadequate to express what she felt at that moment.

  His smile, dazzling and heartwarming, completed her Christmas.

  “Now, Muffin, it’s time for your big present.” He turned his attention to Amanda, and Jaci sat back to watch. However, his next words caught her off guard. “Your papa sent a message to the Shipmaster to say how sorry he was to miss Christmas, and he sent along this chest for you to put all your treasures in.”

  Amanda squealed in delight when she opened the lid to find a pretty rag doll waiting for her hug. “I knew Papa wouldn’t forget. Did he say when he would be home?” She raced to Nicholas and gave him a hug.

  “Soon, Muffin. He’ll be home soon.” He returned her hug, but his gaze connected with Jaci’s over the top of Amanda’s head.

  She slowly shook her head when he winked at her. She smiled in return, silently mouthing the words, “You are wonderful,” letting him know she knew the truth and understood.

  * * *

  Sleigh bells jingled as the horse pranced across the hard packed snow. Amanda giggled when Jaci sang a song she called “Jingle Bells”, and Nicholas felt content with his world. He hadn’t declared himself to Jaci again; he didn’t want to pressure her. It didn’t bother him at all that she denied his love. The wonder in the kisses they had shared told a different story.

  He lightly touched the reins to the back of the horse, clicking softly under his breath, relaxing to enjoy the winter scenery. Brown tufts of grass still showed sporadically, waving stiffly in the cold air. A continuously, curving set of parallel lines from previous sleigh rudders cut through the snow on the side of the hill. Those would disappear fast enough if another storm came through. The silence of a winter snow was overwhelming. As much power as the swirling masses of moisture contained, the white flakes bombarded everything in sight without a sound.

  His musings were cut off when Jaci spoke, her thoughts reflecting his own. “The stark contrast between the pristine snow and dark bark of those bare trees makes me wish for my camera. I’d love to capture the beauty of Wildwood in photographs.”

  “You take pictures?” He vaguely recalled her comments about being a photographer.

  “Yes,” she sighed, “I did at one time. My idol was Ansel Adams. He took the most beautiful pictures — the contrasts were vivid — and yet he only used black and white film.”

  “What other kind is there?” He didn’t know much about photography, but he did know it had progressed beyond the brownish tones of a daguerreotype.

  She appeared taken back by his question, but shook her head and simply stated, “Never mind. Tell me about Wildwood.”

  “My family has been here three generations. Grandfather tried farming, but decided breeding horses was a lot less work. He invested a tremendous amount of money purchasing the best thoroughbreds available anywhere in the world. My father continued that tradition, as have I.”

  “Your house and arenas and track all look well-tended.”

  “Breeding horses, either for show or racing, involves much more than the animals. It takes skilled people and good facilities. The birthing stalls are. . .well, never mind.” He flashed her a grin. “You’ll have to excuse me. When I speak of Wildwood, I tend to forget myself.”

  “You have every reason to be proud. It’s beautiful.”

  He did feel pride, not only in his home, but in Jaci, for she saw the hidden beauty of Wildwood as well as he did.

  “Wildwood does tend to be isolated. We have no neighbors for miles around, and as you have probably ascertained, I’m not much for entertaining. In the winter, trips into the city become even less frequent.”

  She responded as he hoped she would, although she couldn’t have realized how important her answer was to him. “I don’t mind the solitude. I never was much of a socialite.”

  He clicked the horse into a trot for home, feeling good about his decision. He had no doubts that Jaci would marry him, though she might need convincing. He loved the lady sitting on the seat beside him, and knew she had intense feelings, too. He intended to explore those feelings more fully once he had released Lycinda from any obligation.

  “I must go to Philadelphia,” he said without preamble. The sooner the better, he added to himself. “Tomorrow.”

  “But Uncle Nicholas, you promised to take us ice skating. You even got me new skates for Christmas, ‘member?”

  Nicholas sighed. “You’re right, Muffin. I’ll go to Philadelphia the day after.”

  * * *

  The day dawned crystal clear, and as promised, Nicholas bundled Amanda, Jaci, and Molly beneath blankets and furs in the sleigh, allowing Amanda to sit up front with him. At the last minute, Sir Lancelot jumped into the sleigh and snuggled down at Amanda’s feet.

  “Go on with you now; scat.” Molly tried to shoo the dog away, but Amanda protested, hugging the dog around the neck.

  “He’s an Irish Setter, isn’t he?” Jaci asked. “Aren’t they hunting dogs?”

  “Well, Sir Lancelot here isn’t much of a hunter.” Nicholas playfully reached down to scratch behind the dog’s ear. “Unless you count hunting for a scrap off Amanda’s plate.” Sir Lancelot whined as though in protest and everyone laughed.

  The single horse had no trouble pulling the sleigh across the hard packed snow on the lane, and Nicholas assured them the pond lay close enough to the road that they wouldn’t have far to walk. Immediately upon arriving at the pond, he gathered enough wood to start a small fire should they get chilled while skating.

  While Molly helped Amanda put on her skates, Jaci struggled with her own, swatting aside petticoats and heavy velvet skirts. “It was much easier in pants and a sweater,” she mumbled under her breath, wondering how on earth she would ever stand up, much less skate across the frozen pond.

  “What’s that, Miss?” The ever vigilant Molly lifted her head from lacing Amanda’s s
kates.

  “Never mind. It’s of no consequence.” Jaci stopped in the middle of knotting the second skate. Dear me, I’m even beginning to talk like them.

  Her thoughts were immediately diverted when Amanda squealed. She straightened her skirts carefully around her legs as she watched the child glide out onto the ice, her cheeks rosy with cold and excitement. For such a young child, she skated exceptionally well, and Jaci assumed it was the circumstances.

  At Wildwood, the pond was always available in winter, and cost nothing. By contrast, she and Mandy used to go to the indoor rink at the Galleria, paying for the privilege of skating for an hour or two. Because of that, the opportunity hadn’t come along very often.

  “Miss Eastman, perhaps you would stay warmer if you got off that log and moved about.”

  She glanced up sharply as a shadow crossed her vision. Nicholas, handsome as always in his greatcoat and wool trousers, extended a hand to her.

  She wondered when she had fallen in love with him. The words didn’t surprise her today, even though two days ago she had protested such an idea. Deep in her heart, she had already known the truth. She shook her head in wonder.

  For most of her adult life, she had tried to avoid macho males who wanted to run her life, and yet here she was, stuck in the wrong century with just such a man. And the problem? She didn’t seem to mind it.

  Nicholas had a magnetic personality which drew others to him, herself included, and his smile was enough to make a girl faint, or swoon, or whatever they did in 1874. He had a terrific sense of humor, talked to her intelligently and not in a condescending manner, and seemed to value her as an individual. Of course, when they argued, it was as violent as the thunderstorms that shook the earth, but even their fights had sent shivers of excitement through her.

  So what’s the problem? She asked herself. Aside from the fact that she didn’t belong here and didn’t know how long she would stay? She shook her head to clear it as she allowed him to pull her out onto the ice, deciding today wasn’t made for worrying.