Spinning Through Time

by Barbara Baldwin

  Jaci blushed under his scrutiny. “I put on my old pants because I knew I’d have to work with you myself. I hope you don’t mind that I borrowed one of your shirts.” The cuffs of his shirt were rolled up and the tails knotted at her slim waist.

  Hell, no, he didn’t mind. The open collar exposed her lovely neck and her fanny looked enticing in the strange blue trousers that looked a size too small.

  As for himself, he had awakened this morning with a renewed determination to make things right. He had Selkirk trim his hair and shave the whiskers from his face. The two of them had struggled getting his good trousers on and his lips had quirked in amusement when he recalled how fast Jaci had gotten them off that single blissful night.

  Now, he waited for her to speak, but she stood there watching him, uncertain, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth. He realized he would have to take the initiative; but by rights he should, for it was he who had put them in this awkward position in the first place.

  He kept his gaze fixed on Jaci’s face as he pushed his legs around until he sat on the bed as he would a chair, his legs dangling over the edge. Her eyes widened with his efforts and he was pleased to see her impressed. Perhaps the rest of what he had to do wouldn’t be as unmanageable as he imagined.

  “Though it pains my gentlemanly honor, I cannot stand in your presence as I should for what I am about to say.” He cleared his throat, not having realized how difficult this would be without pacing to collect his thoughts.

  She didn’t say anything, but waved away his concern with a flick of her wrist. He continued before he lost his nerve.

  “I want to apologize—”

  She shook her head but he held up a hand to stop her from interrupting. “No, I must apologize for my behavior. I was a rude, obnoxious bore and don’t deserve the precious gift you granted me. I blamed you for giving me that which I wanted all along, perhaps because I felt I no longer deserved it.” He shrugged. “I don’t know.” He searched for the right words to tell her how he felt. Yet he held back his innermost feelings because; well, because he couldn’t ask her to love an invalid.

  “As much as I have fought against it, you showed me how to feel again. That became both a pleasure and a pain, but regardless, I had no right to speak so badly to you. You would never—” he paused, not able to understand her reaction. “What now?”

  Jaci stood, exactly where she had begun, trembling from head to foot. She lifted a hand to her mouth to still its trembling while tears streamed down her cheeks. The whole time he spoke, she slowly shook her head from side to side. Nicholas didn’t know if that meant she didn’t believe him, or wouldn’t listen to any more of his apology.

  She didn’t give him time to debate the issue. Instead, she launched herself at him, knocking him backward onto the bed, sobbing into his shoulder.

  “A simple I don’t believe you would have been much easier to take, I think,” he commented, still not entirely sure what her reaction meant.

  She placed her hands to the side of his head, raising her gaze to study him, eyes flickering as though searching his soul. She gave him a dazzling smile as she again shook her head in consternation. “Did anyone ever tell you that you talk too much?”

  She punctuated her remark with a kiss and Nicholas knew ecstasy. Pure and simple, and for that brief time, nothing else mattered. He didn’t dwell on his inability to walk, the future of Wildwood, or anything or anyone else in the world except his precious Jaci. Once again he was stuck with the dilemma of not being able to ask her to marry him, for his future was still uncertain. But even that didn’t seem quite as important at present.

  Jaci smothered him with kisses, instead of concentrating on his mouth as he would have preferred. In her exuberance, he felt them slide off the edge of the bed. With a thunk, they landed in a heap on the floor just as Selkirk brought in Nicholas’s morning coffee.

  Selkirk didn’t look the least bit surprised. “You haven’t tried to do him in again, have you, miss?” the butler asked with the most pained expression.

  Jaci giggled close to Nicholas’s ear before she turned to answer. “No, Selkirk, you needn’t worry. But we are going to make sure he walks again, aren’t we?”

  The butler looked at the contraption Jaci had ordered brought into the study, then back at Nicholas. “If you say so, miss.” Not a muscle twitched as he lowered the tray to the table and took his leave.

  She scrambled off him to fetch them coffee.

  “Ouch,” he yelped. In her haste, she jabbed a knee in his thigh.

  “What?” Her head jerked back around.

  “Regardless of what you told Selkirk, I do believe you’re trying to get back at me. You just kneed me in the leg.” His words registered in his own mind at the same time her mouth dropped open.

  She scrambled back, straddling his legs and coming nose to nose with him. “Did you hear what you just said?” she practically screeched.

  “It’s my legs that don’t work, not my ears.” Even as he reprimanded her, he felt his grin widen.

  She hugged him, kissed him twice, and hugged him again. “Not any more, Nicholas. You can’t use that excuse any more. We are going to have you walking in no time.”

  * * *

  Now time began to stretch forever as Jaci worked with Nicholas. He understood the concept of using the parallel bars to support himself, but in the beginning he employed only his upper body and simply dragged his legs along.

  “Concentrate,” she emphasized for what seemed the hundredth time.

  “I am concentrating.” He sounded like a spoiled child. She had to remind herself that talking, and walking along side as he struggled, was the easy part.

  She placed her hand over his on the smooth wood of the bar. He stopped, relaxing his grip somewhat. They had discovered that his legs would support him when he finally stood erect, and she chose to believe that a good sign.

  Nicholas had stated that standing did little good unless they wanted to give him a handful of cigars and prop him in a corner like the wooden Indian outside a general store. Jaci thought the return of his sense of humor an even better sign of his recovery.

  Now, he lifted his gaze to hers. She saw determination and it gave her strength. It was good to know that he was fighting now, instead of giving up.

  “You have enough strength in your shoulders and hands, you can go back and forth on these bars all day, using only your arms,” she spoke softly, trying to choose the right words that would encourage, not discourage. “But the idea of the parallel bars is for support, while you make your legs move. That’s what I meant.”

  Nicholas sighed, releasing the bar with one hand and leaning against the one closest to her. He gently brushed a finger across her cheek, tucking her hair behind her ear. She turned her head to kiss his hand, but he had replaced it on the bars. “Stand down at the end where I can see you and have something to walk toward,” he stated without looking at her.

  She did as she was told, moving between the two bars at the very end. In the days they had been working together, there had been no repeat performance of their lovemaking. Even though apologies had been made, Jaci was scared to death to initiate anything, for fear it would again damage his ego.

  He had never mentioned it again, either, and although he touched her sometimes, like now, it wasn’t enough. She watched as he slowly shuffled one foot in front of the other, wobbling constantly as though his legs belonged to someone else and he had no feel for what they would do. She watched his hands grip the railing and remembered how their callused palms had caressed her skin.

  She wanted more. While he struggled and forced his legs to move, she struggled with a plan to seduce him, again. That’s what it would take, she was sure. She would need to find the right moment when he felt secure enough with himself not to reject her offer. That would be too devastating for both of them.

  * * *

  Jaci sat at the crest of a small hill, watching the activity in the horse track off in the distance. The
day was gorgeous — cloudless, warm, with a soft March breeze ruffling the leaves on the trees. Instead of enjoying the pleasures of nature, though, she remained lost in thought.

  It wasn’t often, anymore, that she thought of her other life, as she referred to Dallas in the twenty-first century. Sometimes, however, when it was hard to understand her significance here, she thought she’d be better off back there. She still believed Nicholas was her reason for being here, but she wondered if she did him any good.

  “Hello, care for some company?” Cameron’s voice broke into her musings, and Jaci turned as he rode up.

  “Have I told you how much I appreciate you being here?” she asked with a smile as he plopped down beside her.

  “Only every day — sometimes several times a day.” He grinned back at her.

  Cameron fit in so well at Wildwood, she didn’t understand why he didn’t stay. He and Amanda had formed a bond, and often he would teach her lessons as Jaci continued working with Nicholas. She wondered, though, how much learning took place, for she often saw them out under the trees playing tag.

  When he wasn’t with his daughter, he worked with Mackey and the trainers. Cameron didn’t think there would be any problem having the horses ready for the spring races, and she hoped he was right. But would Cameron Westbrooke’s name be enough to promote Wildwood?

  She shook off her daydreams. It wouldn’t matter, because Nicholas would be at the races; she would see to it.

  “What is it, Jaci? What’s bothering you?”

  “I don’t understand. He’s getting better. I mean, he can stand and is beginning to walk, but yet he’s not the same as before the accident.” She sighed, deciding to get it all out in the open. “I love him, Cameron, but he won’t accept that. What am I going to do?”

  Cameron pulled up a long blade of grass, chewing it silently before answering. “It took me a long time to realize how important family is. Even though I was only two years younger than Nick when our parents died, I looked up to him to take care of things. And he did. When Sarah died, it was impossible to fix, so I left.

  “I didn’t want anything to do with family, because too many people I loved had died.” He shrugged. “I guess I thought that if I left my baby and Nicholas, I was helping protect them — from myself. I can’t believe how much I’ve missed by not being here. Amanda is such a delight — Nicholas has done well by her.”

  “Yes, but he’s not her father, and Amanda has enough love for both of you.”

  “True.” Cameron shook his shoulders as though to dislodge a ghost and turned twinkling eyes to her. “But we haven’t solved your problem. What are we to do with that mule-headed brother of mine?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. Sometimes he gets so agitated when I walk into the room. He even made some comment about standing up to apologize—” She broke off when Cameron started laughing.

  “It’s his breeding. A gentleman always stands when a lady enters the room. Even though he can’t, and has every reason not to, it still rubs him wrong.”

  “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.”

  “It may seem that way to you, but Nicholas has to re-establish himself in his world. He must reaffirm his honor and himself as a man.”

  She shook her head. “I swear. What is it about you men and your honor and manhood? There’s nothing wrong with Nicholas in that department. He sets my blood on fire with his kisses, and he certainly had no trouble making love.”

  “Jaci.” Cameron blushed as red as a tomato.

  “Oh, for Pete’s sake, Cameron. You men go around bragging about screw. . .sowing your wild oats, but I’m not supposed to know about those things?” Jaci realized she probably ventured into forbidden territory, but doubted Cameron would repeat this discussion, given how embarrassed he looked.

  “You’re a lady. Ladies don’t know about things like that.” He defended her, even though she didn’t need it.

  “There’s a lot of things I know, Cam. Perhaps someday, I’ll enlighten you.”

  Cameron glanced skyward as a slight drizzle began. She thought he looked relieved to have something else to talk about. “Come. It won’t do Amanda or Nicholas any good if you get ill.”

  She arched her eyebrow and grinned. “Why, Cameron Westbrooke, you’d better watch out. You sound like Mrs. Jeffrey.” She gave him her hand to pull her up, and together they walked back down the hill.

  * * *

  Nicholas surveyed his carving with a critical eye. His gaze flowed along the lines of the horse from fetlock to tail. He smiled, his hand caressing the hard apple wood he had selected. Once, he had thought building furniture and carving carousel animals would be his life’s work. At the age of eighteen, he had rebelled against his father’s authority and had gone to work for Gustav Dentzel. There, he had discovered the magic of bringing a piece of wood alive in form and shape with his hands. Over the years, he had forgotten about that magic.

  After he sanded the rough edges and added detail, he would paint the four foot replica of Wind Dancer and place it on a permanent pedestal. He hadn’t carved it with the intention of giving it to Dentzel for one of his carousels, although he heard they were fast becoming a favorite amusement ride.

  No, this horse would be his gift to Jaci. He wanted to add, if only to himself, that it would be a wedding present, but he was afraid to project that far into the future. Right now, it was enough that she stuck with him, day after day, forcing him to take hold of his life and concentrate on the task of walking again.

  He recalled how she had looked, standing at the other end of the parallel bars, worrying her lip with her teeth. Even though each step he took had brought him closer to her, those steps had felt like a thousand needles jabbing his legs at once. His legs bore his weight, but as he forced the muscles to work, they twitched and rebelled so strongly, the pain sometimes caused brief blackouts. Every time he stopped, even for a minute, she would encourage him, and he didn’t have the heart to deny her.

  So he had kept at it; forcing his legs to move along the wood base, his hands tightly gripping the railings, until he came to the end where she stood. God, how he had wanted to kiss her. She had given him the most glorious smile, and the pain had slipped away. In its place, an intense pleasure coursed through him from his head to his toes, along with an incredible desire to make love to her.

  Instead, he had turned around within the confines of the bars and shuffled back to the edge of his bed. Nicholas Westbrooke, who until recently had thought himself a man among men, was afraid of a slip of a woman. Even though she had accepted his apology for his boorish behavior the last time, he was hesitant to touch her again. He didn’t think he could bear her rejection, and he didn’t want her to accept him out of pity. Until he knew what direction his life would take, he decided to keep her at a distance, no matter how difficult that decision.

  He concluded his inner conversation as he finished carving the notch that would hold the real leather reins. Jaci would soon arrive with his lunch, and he didn’t want her to see the carousel horse until it was finished.

  “Hello. It’s a lovely day out. We should see about getting you outside.”

  He turned at the sound of her voice, her smile reaching him across the room. She tilted her head, trying to see around him to his work. He bent over the arm of his chair and reached for the drop cloth.

  “What’s that? Is this your big secret project?” She teased him, moving quickly across the room. She stood across from him, lunch tray in hand, staring at his carving. He held his breath in anticipation of her response. He had wanted to surprise her, but now he hoped she at least liked it.

  “Why, Nicholas, it’s beautiful. It looks like a carousel horse.” As she said the words, he watched her eyes widen and her breath catch. The tray slid from her hands and crashed to the floor.

  Unable to reach her, he sat helplessly as the color drained from her face and she began to tremble. “Jaci, what is it?” He pushed himself up, for a moment for
getting, and fell against the arm of the chair. The wooden horse stood between them, effectively blocking his ability to reach out to her.

  She backed away, a shaking hand pressed against her lips.

  “Jaci, talk to me.” Her acute reaction to his carving scared him.

  “It’s the carousel horse.”

  “Well, yes, I’m glad to see it at least resembles that from which I modeled it,” he said, trying to tease her out of her fright.

  “No, I mean it’s the carousel horse — the one in the photograph.” Her voice quivered. With jerky steps, she backed away from the horse as though it were a ghost.

  He shook his head in confusion. “I don’t understand. What photograph?”

  “Huh?” Her eyebrows bunched together, her gaze searching his.

  “What photograph are you talking about?” Her behavior frightened him, but he didn’t know what to do other than get her to talk.

  This time her face transformed, registering recognition instead of shock. “Of course, the picture.” She turned and raced from the room. He heard her steps as she ran up the stairs.

  He gazed from the empty doorway back to the horse he had been carving. It most definitely had been a surprise, but she hadn’t reacted with joy as he’d anticipated. He reached for the bell cord to ring for Selkirk to clean up the luncheon mess scattered across the floor.

  “Here, here, look at this,” Jaci spoke as she rushed back in, digging through some sort of bag. She came to stand beside his chair, but he noticed she carefully avoided looking at the almost completed wooden horse.

  She quickly unfolded a paper and shoved it into his hands. “Look. There’s a picture of you, and this horse.” Still without looking, she pointed behind her to the accused statue.

  He surveyed the paper, which did contain a horse. He wasn’t at all convinced that a person stood behind it; the shape was shadowy and blurred, at best. “It is a painted miniature of a horse similar—”