Spinning Through Time

by Barbara Baldwin

  Hip to hip, she fitted herself against him, regardless of the straw and wrinkles she knew she’d have. She tucked her shoulder under his arm, laid her head on his chest, and wrapped an arm across his waist. Still not satisfied, she draped a leg over his.

  “Are you staking your claim?” He teased, but she didn’t feel like laughing.

  “Aren’t you scared at all, Nicholas?” she whispered, afraid to raise her voice for fear of shattering the fragile dream she had woven around them.

  “Of what — losing Wildwood?” He shrugged. “No, I feel very confident Wind Dancer will win and the money will pay off the debts.” She felt him turn and place a kiss on top her head. “Thanks to your knowledge of the Kentucky Derby.”

  That wasn’t what she meant. “What about — what about us?”

  He laughed aloud at that. “Why, Miss Eastman, have you forgotten your promise already?”

  She turned to rest her chin on his chest. “Nicholas, I haven’t forgotten one second of all the time I’ve been at Wildwood. But don’t you see — what if I don’t stay?”

  He pressed a finger to her lips. “Sh, I won’t listen to that.”

  “But—”

  “Do you love me, Jaci?”

  She didn’t know where he headed, but answered immediately. “You know I do.”

  “How much?”

  “With my life,” she stated emphatically.

  He dragged her across him until they were nose to nose.

  “Then why do you question? You must have faith, sweetheart.”

  “Nicholas, some fluke brought me through time to you. How do we know that a fluke won’t send me back? And what might that be? And—”

  He kissed her to silence and she let him. She needed to know he loved her; she needed comfort. As always, he didn’t disappoint her. His kiss expressed his passion and his need, but also his confidence in their love.

  * * *

  The ensuing days proved hectic, and they kept Jaci’s mind off her troubles. They stabled Wind Dancer and Sabet at Churchill Downs upon their arrival in Louisville. Nicholas took time to make sure his horses suffered no ill effects from the long journey before he allowed himself to enjoy the hospitality of the hotel. Sam, Tom and Mackey would stay in quarters at the track.

  Scheduled workout times were available so only a few of the fifteen horses were on the track at any one time. Nicholas always attended when Wind Dancer ran and Jaci usually accompanied him. There was a festive atmosphere around the Downs which soon infected both of them.

  She was singularly impressed when they meet Col. Meriwether Lewis Clark, whose vision inspired the creation of this race. She longed to tell him how his race track would take on a mystic status, both for Churchill Downs itself, and for the city and residents of Louisville, but she knew no one would believe her.

  Col. Clark singled Nicholas and her out one night at dinner to express his enthusiasm over their attendance at the Downs. “I never imagined word of this race would reach as far north as Philadelphia; at least not this first year.” They shared a secret smile at the man’s obvious pride in his accomplishment.

  “Yes, I was most impressed with the Epsom Derby and St. Leger, both of which are English classics, you know.” He smiled at Jaci, but she knew he only sought to impress Nicholas with his horse racing knowledge. “I decided to model my races after those, for I want to stimulate interest in thoroughbred racing.”

  He lowered his voice as though to impart a secret. “I even imported pari-mutuel machines developed by a French colleague named Pierre Oller. Perhaps you might care to make a wager?” Nicholas had merely inclined his head without actually acquiescing.

  Throughout the week before the race, Nicholas and Jaci rubbed shoulders with the elite of Louisville and Kentucky at various dinners and balls. Even though this was the first race at this track, the participants were going to make sure it was a race everyone remembered.

  May seventeenth, race day, dawned sunny and cool. Nicholas had bought Jaci a new dress and hat especially for this day, but it took some time for her to dress. Her stomach refused to allow her to eat breakfast, and now, fifteen minutes before they had to leave, she still felt like throwing up.

  Nicholas paced, giving her as much time as he dared before they had to leave, but she realized he didn’t know quite what to do with her. Finally, her stomach settled enough for her to be comfortable and they departed, taking a carriage from the hotel to the outskirts of town. The grandstands were filling fast, but each owner had a box reserved right at the front of the track. The mile and a half race would be over in less than five minutes, so Col. Clark made sure his guests had plenty to entertain themselves prior to the start of the race.

  The stables were off limits except for owners, but the grandstand area had a restaurant buffet and lounge for the ladies that were designed to keep them out of the sun. Nicholas left Jaci to see to last minute preparations with Wind Dancer. She nervously reached for a glass of champagne, scanning the crowd over the rim of her glass.

  No one from Philadelphia was here and she considered that good; and bad. It would have been nice for Nicholas to have friends and family around, but again, what if things didn’t end up like they wanted? What if. . .? She gulped down the champagne and reached for another glass. It was fortuitous that Nicholas returned when he did, otherwise she would have gotten quite drunk.

  “The race is almost ready to begin,” he said from behind her and she turned to greet him. He didn’t look the least anxious, and she wished she had his attitude. “Would you like to place a wager on the outcome of this race?” As he spoke, he led her over to one side of the grandstands.

  His eyes widened when she pulled a roll of bills from her purse. “I think I must pay you too well.”

  “This certainly isn’t my money.” At his look, she continued quickly. “Cameron, and Thomas, and even Mrs. Jeffrey gave me some and if you don’t think I’ve been paranoid about someone robbing me since we left Philly, well, let me tell you.” As she chattered non-stop, she gave the man behind the barred window all her money. When he asked which horse she wanted to bet on, it momentarily threw her off balance.

  “Wind Dancer, of course.” She then realized the poor man didn’t know she stood by Nicholas Westbrooke, owner of Wind Dancer and Wildwood. She continued her conversation with Nicholas. “I’m very happy to get rid of it.”

  “Are you implying you won’t get anything back?” He raised a brow in question.

  “Of course not, but with everyone’s winnings and the winner’s purse, we’ll have to get a bank draft.”

  He grinned. “You’re that confident Wind Dancer will win? Do you know something I don’t?” He took her elbow and guided her through the crowd to the box they had been assigned.

  She felt surprised he would ask. “Heavens, no. If I recalled that much history, I would have invented something quicker, or closer to home.”

  He laughed. “We’ll simply have to take our chances, won’t we?” When they entered the box, a gentleman already there stood and doffed his hat.

  “Jaci, may I present, uh, Mr. Christopher Stein. Mr. Stein, this is my betrothed, Miss Jaci Eastman. Thank you for joining us.”

  Mr. Stein didn’t speak, but bowed slightly and gave her a cryptic smile. Jaci would have spoken to draw him out, but a trumpet blared at the same time thunder rumbled.

  She glanced skyward. “When did the clouds come?” Her stomach plummeted; she didn’t contemplate rain. “Can Wind Dancer run as fast in the rain?”

  “What?” Nicholas asked, preoccupied with the field of horses.

  She pointed skyward and Nicholas looked up, forehead wrinkling. “I usually don’t run him on a wet track, for fear of injury. Perhaps the rain will hold off.” His gaze went back to the track, where several skittish horses were being held by their trainers.

  Thunder rumbled again, almost in defiance of Nicholas’s words. Col. Clark, impervious to the weather, stood at the front of the grandstand and greeted his guests
, the owners and all the visitors who had come that day — an estimated ten thousand people, he said. A murmur of approval rippled through the crowd, followed by a round of applause.

  The horses were quieted at the gate. The trainers removed blindfolds as needed, and left the thoroughbreds in the hands of the jockeys. His red and black silks shimmering in the sun, Sam looked very confident on Wind Dancer’s back. Jaci saw his lips move as he quietly spoke to the horse.

  The starter’s pistol cracked in the silence, launching both the horses and the audience into action. Surging up from her seat, she yelled along with other spectators for their favorites. Nicholas didn’t shout, but when she grabbed his hand in her exuberance, he returned her tight hold.

  The thundering of hooves couldn’t be differentiated from the rumbling in the increasingly dark sky and it wasn’t until Wind Dancer crossed the finish line that she realized it had begun to rain. But it didn’t matter. Nicholas caught her around the waist, swinging her in a circle and enthusiastically kissing her.

  “He won! He actually did it!” He released control of his emotions now and shouted along with the rest of the crowd. Regardless of who stood near, he cupped her cheeks and kissed her with passion. “I love you, Mrs. Westbrooke.”

  Her breath caught. In the excitement of winning, she had forgotten her pledge. “But I’m not,” she protested.

  “Soon to be corrected.” He turned her around to face the gentleman who had shared their box. “The Reverend Christopher Stein.”

  Her mouth dropped open as her gaze traveled back to Nicholas. He smiled at her and her heart melted, as it did every time he looked at her.

  Despite the rain, she reached up and circled his neck. Pulling his head down, she whispered against his lips. “I love you, Nicholas Westbrooke. I’m scared to death about what might happen, but I love you too much to stop now.” Her kiss would have gone on indefinitely, but Reverend Stein interrupted.

  “Would I be out of line, sir, if I suggested seeking shelter?”

  Jaci began to giggle when Nicholas seemed disinclined to stop licking the moisture from her lips. It was pouring now, and she saw the beautiful feathers from her hat drooping in front of her eyes. When she pushed against his chest, he gave in with a sigh.

  Hand in hand, they raced to the stables and out of the rain. The crowd had followed the horses as the trainers also sought shelter for the animals in their charge. She and Nicholas found Mackey and Wind Dancer surrounded.

  Col. Clark found a way to rise above the crowd and called for attention. “Though I had no control over the weather, I do most sincerely apologize, especially to our fair ladies.” He doffed his hat and bowed as low as his perch on the stall partition would allow.

  “I’m pleased, however, with this, our first Kentucky Derby.” Applause followed. He raised his hands for silence. “Mr. Westbrooke, are you among us?”

  Nicholas raised his hand in affirmation, and after giving Jaci’s shoulders a squeeze, he worked his way to the front of the crowd. Before even acknowledging Col. Clark, he ran his hand down Wind Dancer’s muzzle, congratulating Sam and slapping Mackey on the back. Finally, he allowed the Colonel his attention.

  “It is with great pleasure that I award Wind Dancer, of Wildwood Stables, our garland of roses!” As the blanket of red flowers was looped over Wind Dancer’s neck he shook his head as though very well aware of the fine job he had done. “And to his owner, Nicholas Westbrooke of Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, this bank draft in the amount of two thousand eight hundred fifty dollars.” Applause and cheering erupted wildly as Nicholas accepted his winnings.

  At least now Nicholas had the money to pay the mortgage and insure Wildwood’s success. Jaci shivered, the heat of excitement giving way to cold from the rain seeping through her wet clothes. She rubbed her arms to warm herself, wondering where she could hide and dry off, when Nicholas’s words caught her attention.

  “I thank you for your good wishes,” he profusely stated, “and I invite you all to stay right here while the Reverend Stein marries me to the lovely Jaci Eastman.”

  A cheer arose. It wasn’t the wedding Jaci would have planned for herself, if she had ever actually dreamed of marrying. The smell of hay and wet horses replaced the scent of flowers, and the only music came from soft whinnies. But none of that mattered when Nicholas gazed into her eyes and pledged his love through all time.

  Nicholas somehow managed to have a bath ready for her when they got back to the hotel. He deposited her with a kiss and a promise to return soon. He had told the men they would have rooms in the hotel that night, and promised to share a drink with them.

  She experienced a twinge of disappointment but shrugged it off, knowing he would return quickly. It was her wedding night and she shivered in anticipation as she sank deeper into the tub. No matter what had gone before, she was married now.

  “Mrs. Nicholas Westbrooke,” she whispered as she turned the wide gold band on her finger.

  “And how delightful Mrs. Westbrooke looks, all slick and naked in that tub of water.” Nicholas leaned over from behind and kissed her nose.

  “How did you get in?” She didn’t even jump, for Nicholas was always sneaking up on her, and she had somehow come to expect it ever since he had started walking again.

  “I told the desk clerk I wanted to ravish the lovely lady in room 108 and he gave me a key — with a grin.” While he spoke, he began peeling his wet clothes off, for it still poured outside.

  Jaci pretended not to notice, but her body hummed with desire. He sat and jerked off his boots and socks, wiggling his toes, and Jaci even found his feet sexy.

  “Do you mind?” He asked as his pants dropped to the floor.

  “Huh? Mind what?” She had no idea what he asked for his naked body claimed all her attention.

  “Mind if I ravish you?”

  She raised her gaze to his. “Not if you do it very, very, slow.”

  With a growl, he reached down and scooped her out of the tub. She squealed, grabbing him around the neck. Seconds later, water splashed from the oversized tub as he sat down with her on his lap.

  “How strange. I wondered why this tub was much larger than the one back home.” She murmured as he began kissing her neck.

  “Don’t women of the future share their baths?” His soapy hand slid over her breast.

  “I didn’t take baths; I showered.”

  He quirked a brow.

  She tried to explain, which was difficult given the movement of his hands. “It’s a nozzle high on the wall, in an enclosed area, like a closet. The water comes out a spray, and you stand up to wash.”

  He nuzzled the sensitive area behind her ear. “Novel invention, but it doesn’t sound very relaxing,” he pulled her down against his chest, “nor as cozy.”

  She wiggled her bottom against him and was delighted with his response. “And your point is?” She teased him.

  “My point, darling Mrs. Westbrooke, is that no matter what else changes through the years; no matter what marvelous wonders are invented; one thing will always remain constant.” He turned her in his arms and kissed her deeply. “My love for you will endure through all eternity.”

  Epilogue

  Menlo Park, New Jersey — 1879

  “You must think us dreadfully boring, being awed by such inventions as were in the exhibit. After all, I’m sure you’ve known about Edison’s light bulb and phonograph for some time,” Nicholas commented as they left the exhibition hall and walked into the bright afternoon.

  “Of course I know about them, but since I’ve been here, I’ve come to appreciate the simpler life. I only wish I had the wherewithal to do the inventing. Imagine what I could show them.”

  “Jaci—” He shook his head in warning, for they had decided on their wedding night that she would do nothing which might irrevocably change history.

  “Well, it’s marvelous to see Amanda’s eyes light up at all the new wonders she’ll have in her lifetime. I can’t wait until she hits her
teens and has access to Bell’s telephone. Now that Cameron has decided to stay in Philly and let others drive his ships, she can have a house full of modern conveniences.”

  “Pilot, dear, not drive,” Nicholas corrected gently.

  “Sorry. Speaking of pilots, they didn’t have an airplane in the exhibit hall, now did they?”

  “I warn you,” Nicholas reprimanded, but his eyes twinkled.

  “Papa! Penny, Papa, penny.” Four year old Cassandra came racing at her father and Nicholas scooped her high above his head, spinning her around in a circle. Jaci smiled as she remembered him doing the same to Amanda years ago. Now, ten year old Amanda followed in Cassandra’s wake at a much more sedate pace.

  Nicholas tweaked his daughter’s nose. “What does my precious Cassie want with a penny?”

  As Cassie tweaked her papa’s nose in turn, Jaci laughed, her hand sliding over her slightly rounded stomach. She had never expected to find happiness in a marriage, much less the incredible bliss she still experienced in Nicholas’s arms. Though Amanda was like their own child, she would soon be leaving to live with Cameron and attend school in the city. God had blessed them with Cassandra, and now she was pregnant with another. This time, she hoped for a son for Nicholas, to carry on the Westbrooke tradition. Not that Cassandra wouldn’t be capable, but Jaci longed to see her do something extraordinary — like become the first woman pilot, or President.

  For now, her attention turned to where Cassandra pointed. “Me want to ride horsies, like Papa’s.”

  If Nicholas’s free hand hadn’t already been holding Jaci’s elbow, he probably wouldn’t have been able to stop her from falling. As it was, he had to juggle her and Cassandra. However, she couldn’t stop the dizziness, nor the incredible sense of déjà vu that twisted like a knife in her heart.

  “Nicholas.” Her voice came out a strangled whisper. She managed to keep from collapsing into a ruffled puddle, but leaned heavily on Nicholas as they stood in the middle of a busy walkway.