“It’s not a painting, it’s a photograph — a colored photograph.”
He scrutinized the picture more carefully. “It’s a very good likeness — how did they get the detail?”
“Nicholas!” Her screech effectively caught his attention. “Look at the horse, Nicholas. This horse,” she thumped the picture for emphasis, “and your carving are identical. How is that possible?”
He did as she requested and studied the picture. Suddenly his breath caught. “Dear God, it’s true.”
“I told you it was the same horse.”
He shook his head at her comment. “No, this.” He pointed to a corner of the picture and she bent close to see the spot. “It’s the airplane you told Amanda about.” He looked up at her, his voice incredulous. “I thought you were making it up — that you had a vivid imagination.”
She knelt beside his chair as he continued to stare at the picture. He tried to convince himself that it was a flaw in the paper; that in folding and unfolding this photograph, she had scratched it somehow. But the more he studied it, the clearer it became. Against the blue of the sky was a large object suspended in the air — an airplane flying across the sky.
She confirmed it. “I hadn’t noticed the airplane before. When I took the pictures and developed them, I was only concerned with the carousel horses, and how this image had ruined the photo session.” Again, she pointed to a spot behind the horse.
Her wild stories were true. The photograph convinced him. Through some fluke in nature, Jaci had been thrown back to Wildwood from somewhere in the future. All her comments; all the times she hadn’t understood their culture, came flooding back to him. She had made references to Dallas as though it were a large metropolis, when the town had only existed some thirty years. She had cooked food he had never before tasted; and had created stories and taught Amanda things that had no bearing on anything within his realm of knowledge.
“Nicholas, I know how hard this is to believe. It was just as hard for me to understand when I first got here. But it did happen.” She dug into the strange bag. “Here; look at these.” She identified the objects as she dropped them into his lap. “A roll of high speed film, a plastic credit card; car keys. How else would you explain these?”
“We have keys,” Nicholas answered the only possible part of the question. “It’s logical to assume somewhere across the United States these other objects might exist.” He said the words, but he didn’t believe them. He believed her, even though his very logical self said such a thing as time travel was impossible. He fingered the smooth canister that she said contained film. He ran his thumb over the raised letters which spelled her name on a calling card. No, she had called it a credit card.
“What use does this have?”
“It’s a credit card. I use it to pay for things, instead of money.”
“Instead of money? You mean you don’t have currency?” He turned the card over and over in his hand.
“Yes, we do, but this is used instead of writing a check against the money in a bank account.”
“Well, there you have it. It’s not new for we have letters of credit from banks now.” He shrugged off what she said.
She got up and began to pace. She waved a hand in the air, and he thought she looked delightful all flustered and confused. He tried to see her as he had the first day she appeared — wearing strange clothes and covered in mud. He tried to imagine her in some future world. He shook his head. The Jaci Eastman he knew, regardless of where she had come from, was the soft, feminine creature who now strolled back and forth across his study.
“There’s got to be an explanation you’ll understand,” she muttered as she passed him.
Even though he didn’t think he wanted to know, he asked anyway. “When do you live?”
“In 2015,” she whispered.
“I’m long since dead.” The wonder of it all struck him.
“And I have yet to be born in 1875. How do you explain it?”
He shook his head, neither wanting nor having an explanation. “I don’t need an explanation. Some things are not meant to be explained — like lightning and storms and death and disease. Some things you simply have to accept on faith.” Although he realized he was taking a chance by giving voice to his emotions, he felt it necessary to make her understand. “It doesn’t matter. All that matters is that you are here with me now. I need you here with me.”
His words stopped her in her tracks. She turned a slow circle until she faced him, the silent wooden horse now separating them. Her gaze searched his face and he hoped she realized how sincere he was — how desperately he still loved her.
“I can’t ask you to give up your life for me. I can’t make a commitment to you right now, but I hope you realize how I feel.”
She stood still as a statue, staring, and Nicholas wondered if she had heard any of what he said. Here he had almost declared himself, and she wasn’t even listening.
“You have to quit carving this horse. You have to stop right now.” She sprang into action, rushing over to the table which stood near his carving. Snatching the lunch tray from the floor, she began scooping his carving tools onto the surface.
Nicholas reached out and grabbed her wrist, bringing her movements to a halt. “Jaci, stop; what are you doing?”
When she turned, tears streamed down her face. Her hand trembled as she touched the horse, turning it around to face the same way as the photograph.
“Look at the picture, Nicholas. The pose and position of the head and tail; the legs you have carved. You had never seen this photo before, and yet it’s exactly the same as this carving you’re doing in 1875. But I took the picture in 2015. Remember when you took me to Mr. Dentzel’s that first time and you thought I was crazy because I was looking for a particular carousel horse?”
“Well, not crazy, maybe.” He wanted to tease her out of her mood, for her words were scaring him. Deep down in the pit of his stomach a knot had formed, growing larger with each statement she made. He wanted to stop what she said, for somehow he sensed where her words would lead.
“This was the horse I was looking for, even though you hadn’t made it yet.” She moaned softly and put both hands to her head as though in pain. “Oh, this doesn’t make any sense at all, but please, I beg you, quit carving it. If you finish, somehow it will bring the process full circle, and that might very well send me back to my own time.”
Even as she said the words, he denied them in his mind. It was too incredible an idea to comprehend. He looked at the other things she had carried in her bag, yet decided to pursue a different reasoning. “I had forgotten about your feelings when you first came here,” he said. “As I recall, you kept saying you wanted to go back to Dallas. I simply didn’t understand exactly what you meant.”He watched her face as he carefully made his next statement. “Perhaps if, as you say, the carousel horse will transport you back to your Dallas, I should finish it posthaste.” He was only testing her, a knot of fear almost causing his heart to stop beating.
“No!” She cried.
“Whyever not?” He was taunting her and he knew it. But he wanted to know; had to have her confession of what she felt for him. He wondered if it wasn’t more crucial to his recovery than the use of his legs.
Her gaze met his, but she quickly looked aside, refusing to give away too much. “Because. . .” she began.
“Why, Jaci? What would make the difference, if I did finish the horse and if it did, by some miracle, send you back?”
“Because, maybe I don’t want to go back yet. Maybe there’s some purpose for my being here that I haven’t thought of yet.” She shrugged her answer, but Nicholas knew she held back, afraid to commit; just as he had. For now, her words were enough. He breathed easier.
“A purpose for being here? Other than to cause havoc with my life, you mean?” He grinned at her.
“That’s not funny,” she weakly protested.
He dumped the odds and ends of her bag onto the tray w
ith his carving tools. He held out his hand. “Come here.”
She faltered and he wondered if she was afraid to touch him for fear he, or she, would disappear. “You’re safe; you’ll see.” He gestured with his hand.
Tentatively, she raised her hand to his, the touch of her fingers against his palm lighter than butterfly wings. His fingers closed around her slim hand and he tugged her to him, pulling her down onto his lap. He wouldn’t allow her to hesitate. One arm curled about her waist to hold her close. He reached up with the other hand and tilted her chin.
“A promise,” he whispered as he kissed her soft lips. “My pledge.” He kissed her again, tenderly, for he wanted her to ache for him as he did for her. “Regardless of some phenomena which might have happened to bring you to me, this is real.” A third time, he touched his lips to hers. “We are real.”
Chapter Seventeen
“It’s only three weeks. Do you think the horses will be ready?” Cameron asked.
Nicholas scowled as Jaci entered the study and she knew it wasn’t because Cameron discussed plans for a pre-season race at Wildwood.
“Please, don’t get up on my account,” she said with a smile, and Nicholas immediately relaxed. She recognized it as a man thing, and even when she considered it stupid in the extreme, her statement helped him retain his honor.
She set the coffee service down, pleased to see him sitting behind his desk. Although she helped him with his therapy, she knew he still needed assistance getting around, especially to the bathroom, but she never saw him at those times. As intimate as they had become, he still wouldn’t allow her that familiarity. She listened to their conversation as she poured coffee. Nicholas hadn’t been happy with her, or Cameron, when they informed him they had organized a pre-season race and bar-b-que on Amanda’s birthday. That was why neither had told him until the invitations had been issued, both to other horse breeders and to friends and neighbors. Mackey had help make up a list, Mrs. Jeffrey and Delta had come up with the outdoor menu, and the entire staff was pitching in to get the grounds ready for the spring event.
It did her heart good to see everyone working hard, and knew they did it for Nicholas. Rumors were flying about his miraculous recovery, and although she sometimes felt their progress was slow, Nicholas called it interminable. Still, she supposed it could be viewed a miracle.
Nicholas looked up from his book work. “Well, since you and Miss Eastman decided to sponsor this fiasco, should it make any difference whether I’m in attendance?”
Cameron hopped up from his chair. “Of course it does, Nick. The Wildwood name is yours; the horses are yours. The whole idea of having a race was to get you to—”
“Cameron, don’t you have something to do?” Jaci interrupted, not wanting him to tell Nicholas that they had planned a race, hoping it would be the enticement he needed to walk again. She knew, with the man’s pride, that he wouldn’t accept their interference in that way. Besides, telling him wasn’t going to be necessary.
Nicholas was getting better each day. She noticed the way his hands gripped the exercise bars; more relaxed and not white knuckled as before. At the same time, she knew he was frustrated at not being able to walk without help.
She ushered Cameron out the door with whispered instructions to keep Amanda busy and not to return the rest of the day. She had decided Nicholas needed further prodding in his efforts to walk without using the exercise bars.
A mischievous smile on her face, she quietly closed the door behind the younger brother, turning the key in the lock. She leaned her back against the door surveying Nicholas, who chose to ignore her at the moment and remained engrossed with his ledgers.
The walking bars, as he referred to them, were situated at the end of his bed, stretching a good ten feet towards the desk, but still leaving another ten feet of open territory. Since Nicholas was already at his desk, she couldn’t hope that he could walk the distance back to the bars.
She stepped to the side, tilting her head to see behind the desk to the chair on which he sat. The study floor, like the other downstairs rooms, was hardwood and Nicholas’s desk chair sat on a small rug. So, that’s how they did it. Given the shiny surface of the floor, she bet the rug allowed Selkirk to push Nicholas around the room. Very clever, and just the trick she needed.
She reached over his shoulder to remove the pen from his hand. “It’s time for your workout.” She tried to keep her voice nonchalant, but it quivered in anticipation. Startled, he turned to look at her as she pulled the chair away from the desk. As she thought — it moved easily across the smooth floor. She gave him no time to protest as she scooted him over to the end of the bed, turned the chair in a complete circle — twice, simply for the fun of it — and stepped away.
“You can get yourself up to the bars from there. I’ll move to the other end where you can see me while you walk that way.” As she spoke, she backed up very, very slowly, never taking her eyes off him. She didn’t dare do anything until she knew he would complete the exercise. As promised, she stood near one end when he pulled himself up and slowly moved in-between the bars.
Nicholas kept his eyes focused on his feet, as if staring at them would insure that they moved. Jaci let him begin before she called to him. Her hands were at the neckline of her shirtwaist, unbuttoning the row of fasteners.
“Nicholas?” she spoke his name softly to get his attention.
When he raised his head, she slid the blouse off one shoulder. His gaze hardened and his steps faltered. She feared he would fall, but he shuffled his feet back under him and stopped, never taking his gaze from her bare shoulder.
“You can do that,” she nodded to the exercise bars, “while I do this.” She pulled her blouse out from her skirt and slid it the rest of the way off, dropping it to the floor. She ran the tip of her tongue over her teeth, seductively enticing him with every gesture. Her fingers unhooked her skirt, pushing it provocatively down her hips as she swayed from side to side.
Her actions galvanized him, and his feet began moving again. With each piece of clothing she removed, his steps seemed to quicken. Perspiration broke out on his forehead; his lips were edged with white as he concentrated on making his feet move.
They were no more than four feet apart — her with only stockings and chemise on; him at the end of the exercise bars. She knew he wanted her; saw the evidence of his passion in the way his chest heaved in exertion and anticipation. Would he take a chance?
Her gaze locked with his, seducing him, telling him of her need. She slid a finger in her mouth, and then traced her lips, gliding across her chin and down her throat to the edge of her chemise. His gaze never left the path her finger traveled.
He licked his lips, leaned forward, and hesitated. She felt a moment of remorse — had she pushed too hard? She held her breath as he tentatively took a step beyond the bars. One step after the other, bringing him closer to her. She didn’t move; didn’t reach out her hands to make the distance shorter because she knew he needed to do this by himself.
One more step and he clutched her shoulders. She winced slightly under the pressure, but stayed erect.
“Nicholas, you’re marvelous.” Her soft words seemed to break his concentration because he grabbed her around the waist as he fell, twisting so she landed on top.
“Oh, my God, I’m sorry,” she squealed, bracing herself above him with her arms, quickly scanning his face to see if he was in pain.
“It’s all right.” His voice was full of laughter as his hands brushed her hair back from her face. “I’m all right,” he said in awe. He pulled her head down, brushing his lips across hers. The exercises were forgotten; the pain forgotten in the glory of their physical awareness of each other.
“I must have you.” His ragged plea caught her by surprise and her heart beat faster.
Yes. It was what she wanted; what she dreamed about every night. Still, she hesitated. Her eyes surveyed the hard floor; a small throw rug was all that had cushioned their fall.
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“Here?” she questioned even as the ache within her grew.
“Here; now.” Nicholas’s voice was urgent; his hands already sliding up her bare legs beneath her knee length chemise. “You started this, and I must see it through to completion.”
They hadn’t spoken about that first experience, nor touched since in an intimate way. Were his feelings genuine? She searched his face, wanting to see more than lust; or desperation. What she saw in his deep pewter gaze was adoration and passion, and she wanted to weep.
Instead, she kissed him with abandon, letting the excitement and intense heat flow through her body and into his. He clutched her tightly and managed to turn over, nestling his hips between her legs. He wasted no time in foreplay, but it didn’t matter. She wanted him as desperately. Only when he surged within her did she feel complete, and she wrapped her legs around his waist as he began, awkwardly at first, to move his hips in the rhythm she ached for.
Their lovemaking was intense, and she wanted to draw him into herself and never let go. He was glorious, rising above her on the strength of his arms, face taut with pleasure. His hips danced erotically with hers and soon sent her spiraling upward to the stars. Her climax quickly swept her away, but with an intensity only born from love
When he collapsed against her, his head tucked in the crook of her neck, she cried. Sobs racked her, shaking her shoulders and causing her head to pound. She loved him so much! How would she bear it if she were now transported? How was she to live without this proud, stubborn, magnificent man who had taught her how to love? She cried harder.
“Sh, sh, sweetheart. I’m okay; I’m really all right.” He tried to reassure her, assuming mistakenly that she cried because they had fallen, or because he might be in pain. He rolled to the side, still rocking her gently against his hard body.
Spinning Through Time Page 24
