A Fall in Time (Train Through Time Series Book 5)

by Bess McBride

  She shook her head. “No, I can’t. Can we change the subject?”

  Matthew sobered, drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Yes, we can.”

  “Tell me about your childhood,” she said.

  He smiled gently, as if he understood her tactic.

  “I do not think there is much to tell. I am an only child, as you know. I mentioned that my parents spoiled me, especially my mother. Emily was my childhood playmate. We attended school together as small children, but she attended a girl’s high school, and I attended a boy’s high school. I graduated from the University of Washington with a degree in business, as did Emily. My father inherited several financial institutions from his father, and I took over the business when my father decided that a life of leisure suited him more than working.” He smiled with affection as he spoke of his father.

  “Your life sounds very stable...safe,” Sara said. She heard the envy in her voice and hoped that Matthew didn’t.

  He nodded. “Yes, I believe so. Stable is an apt description. Even safe. In general, I would characterize my life as stable. There have been few surprises.” He eyed her pensively. “With the exception of the past few weeks, that is.”

  Sara nodded sympathetically. “You mean Emily.”

  He nodded. “Emily. And you, Sara. You have been quite a surprise.”

  Sara’s heart jumped, but more with anxiety than pleasure at a perceived compliment. She worried about his inference.

  “You’re not suggesting that your stable life has become...unstable because of me, are you, Matthew? I wouldn’t want that. I would never want that!” She shook her head emphatically.

  He hesitated to answer, and Sara fidgeted in her seat. Well, yes, of course his life had been momentarily disrupted because of her, but nowhere near as much as it would be if he knew who...or what she really was.

  “Unstable, no,” he said with a shake of his head. “Infinitely more complex and interesting, yes.”

  “But not for long, Matthew. I promise. I’ll try to get out of your hair as soon as I can, and you can continue with that wonderful-sounding stable life of yours.” She tried to smile, but her lips felt crooked.

  He leaned forward and took one of her hands in his.

  “Please do not worry yourself so, Sara. You need not concern yourself with ‘getting out of my hair.’ I have come to believe over the past few days that a complex and interesting life is much more...well, interesting than the fairly routine life I have been living. If I am to be honest, I feel you have more surprises in store for me, and short of endangering yourself or others, I look forward to discovering what those may be.”

  Against her will, Sara laced her fingers through his and gripped his hand tightly, on the verge of disclosing her “surprises.” She opened her mouth to speak, and he raised her hand to his lips again, pressing a kiss on the back. She could think of nothing else besides the warm touch of his lips on her skin, and she could do nothing to endanger that feeling. She closed her mouth.

  Matthew released her hand and settled back into his bench.

  “No one has ever kissed my hand before,” Sara murmured as she looked down at the back of her hand in bemusement. She looked up at him, embarrassed at her unplanned confession.

  Matthew tilted his head, his smile almost shy. “Not even at the ball?”

  Sara shook her head. “Not even at the ball. I’ve never been to a ball, not even a high school dance, frankly. My mother used to try to get me to go, buying me secondhand dresses to entice me, but no one ever asked, and I couldn’t imagine going alone.”

  The words, spoken aloud, sounded pitiful, and Sara instantly regretted them.

  Matthew seemed to think about her comment as if searching for the right response, and Sara didn’t want to hear any sympathy.

  “It’s not important,” she said dismissively, looking away toward the window. “I’m not sure why I mentioned it. Silly, really.”

  “It will be my pleasure to take you out onto the dance floor in the near future, Miss Reed.”

  Sara turned back, her heart rolling over. Matthew watched her steadily, and she melted under the gaze of his aquamarine eyes. How on earth could this Emily not want to marry him?

  “Why thank you, Mr. Webster!” Sara replied with a shaky grin. Of course, there was no chance they would ever find themselves on a dance floor together in nineteen hundred or any other year, but the memory of his words would thrill her heart forever.

  Never having had a boyfriend, Sara was unused to flirting. Her life had involved school, homework and a part-time job in a fast food joint when she got older. She had chosen to spend her free time with her mother who, because of her heart condition, could not work or even socialize. It hardly mattered though, as no boys had been particularly interested in her anyway.

  Matthew, the handsome turn-of-the-century gentleman with impeccable manners and a courtly demeanor, presented a romantic figure beyond belief. If Sara hadn’t been tossed into a cold jail cell, she might have thought Matthew was a figment of her imagination. She’d had an adolescent period of reading historical romance novels, but that habit had given way to high school homework and then college.

  Matthew...the reality...surpassed every romantic character she’d ever read. The clean soapy scent of his clothing, the warmth of his hands, the tenderness of his lips and the strong beat of his heart when she pressed her hand on his chest all exceeded any expectations she might ever have had.

  “For now though, perhaps we should get some sleep,” he said. “Unless there is more you wish to disclose?” His smile teased.

  Sara responded in kind, relieved that he was prepared to take a lighthearted approach for now to her evasive and mysterious answers.

  “Nothing further,” she intoned.

  “Good night then. Sleep well, Sara,” Matthew said. He turned off all lights except a small one near the compartment door before returning to his bench.

  “Good night,” Sara said. She kicked off her canvas shoes and fluffed the pillow on her own bench before reclining on her side and pulling the blanket up to her shoulders. She saw Matthew look down and study her shoes, but he said nothing.

  He stuffed a pillow into a corner and settled himself, crossing his arms and stretching out his legs.

  Sara fell asleep thinking that her first experience sleeping in the same room with a man was not quite what she had imagined. She smiled.

  Chapter Seventeen

  In what seemed like only a few hours but was in reality about nine hours later, Matthew helped Sara down the steps of the train in Seattle. They had breakfasted early in the dining room, having decided that avoiding Mrs. Feeney was a moot point.

  Sara’s hand was cold in his, and she looked pale as she stared at the whirlwind of activity at the station. Horse-drawn carriages and wagons awaited passengers, luggage and goods. Some arrivals were greeted with embraces and cries of welcome, while others stood tiredly by, awaiting their bags.

  “Is everything all right, Sara?” Matthew asked. “You look faint.” He turned to face her.

  “Yes, I’m fine,” she whispered. “Just overwhelmed.”

  Matthew turned to survey the scene. “Yes, the Seattle train depot is busy, quite hectic at this time of day when the train arrives.”

  He tucked her hand under his arm.

  “I need to get a porter and a carriage,” he said. “Normally, my own carriage would await me, but I telegraphed to say that I had changed my plans and did not know when I would arrive.”

  He waylaid a porter and gave him directions. A familiar voice caught his ear.

  “Matthew!”

  Matthew whirled around, momentarily forgetting that he held Sara’s hand under his arm.

  Emily, lovely as always in a gray skirt and jacket, with a festive silk flowered hat that suited her fair coloring, waved as she hurried toward them. She slowed when she saw Sara.

  Matthew drew in a sharp breath.

  “Emily!” he said when she arrived at t
heir side. “What brings you to the station?”

  Emily, appraising Sara frankly with bright-blue eyes, turned to him with a questioning smile.

  “But I always pick you up from your trips, Matthew. Your father sent word that you would arrive on the train today. Will you introduce me?”

  She smiled at Sara, but Matthew knew Emily well enough to recognize that she was displeased. He had not yet formed a plan to explain Sara to his parents, much less to Emily or, in fact, any other acquaintances.

  “Miss Sara Reed, this is Miss Emily Williams, a childhood friend.”

  Emily arched an eyebrow in his direction but held out her hand.

  “Miss Reed, so nice to meet you.”

  “It’s nice to meet you too,” Sara said, taking Emily’s hand in her own for a brief shake. Matthew felt Sara’s grip on his arm tighten.

  “Did you meet on the train?” Emily asked, directing her question to Matthew.

  “Yes, we did. Miss Reed will be staying with us for a period of time.” He thought he might as well take a bold stance.

  “I beg your pardon?” Emily asked. Her brows narrowed as if in confusion.

  “Miss Reed will be staying with us,” he repeated, though he knew she had heard him the first time.

  “Oh!” Emily said. Matthew wanted to confide in her, as he had always done, but Sara’s secrets were not his to share, what secrets he knew. He felt her fingers biting into his arm, and he patted her hand reassuringly. Emily did not miss the gesture.

  “Well, welcome to Seattle, Miss Reed. Is this your first visit?”

  Sara nodded wordlessly.

  The porter hurried up with Matthew’s bag and the carpetbag Matthew had purchased for Sara’s new clothing.

  “Your father insisted I take your carriage, as he always does,” Emily said. “It’s just over there.”

  Matthew spotted Raymond, the driver, who had just settled the horses and was in the act of climbing down to assist the porter.

  “That is most fortunate, Emily. I did not expect to see you here,” he said, wishing the words unsaid as soon as he spoke them. “I am very grateful to both you and my father.”

  “Nonsense,” Emily said. “Why wouldn’t I be here?”

  Matthew chose not to respond in front of Sara, for all he could say was that he thought Emily’s rejection of his proposal meant they could no longer continue as friends.

  “Thank you, Raymond,” Matthew said as Raymond helped Sara and Emily into the closed carriage before loading Matthew’s case.

  Matthew took the seat across from Emily and Sara.

  “Your father did not mention Miss Reed would be staying,” Emily said with another arch of one eyebrow.

  “He does not know,” Matthew said evenly, careful to preserve a pleasant expression as Sara watched him.

  “He will be most surprised, I think,” Emily said.

  “Yes,” Matthew said. Despite his joy at seeing Emily, Matthew could not help but view her through a new light. Her comments at the moment seemed most inappropriate, given as they were in front of Sara as if she was not there.

  “Pleasantly so, I am sure,” Matthew added with a reassuring smile toward Sara.

  “Of course,” Emily added with a polite smile in Sara’s direction. “Matthew’s parents are delightful, very nice.”

  “Have you been well, Emily? Your family?” Matthew asked innocuously.

  “Yes, thank you. Mother and father are well.”

  “Good,” he said. At the moment, Matthew found it hard to think of polite conversation. His thoughts were on the hours ahead, as he must surely explain Sara’s origins, of which he knew very little.

  “And where are you from, Miss Reed?” Emily asked. Matthew held his breath to listen to Sara’s answer, wondering if Emily had read his mind.

  “Spokane,” she said without elaborating. The carriage lurched forward, and Sara grabbed a strap. Matthew surmised she had never been in a carriage before, not surprising given her impoverished childhood circumstances.

  She turned to stare out the window. Matthew caught Emily’s eyes upon him. She quirked her eyebrow again as if to ask him a question, and he shook his head tiredly. He had not slept well the night before, concerning himself overly much with Sara and her future.

  “How are my parents?” he asked.

  “They were well. I had dinner with them last night and took the carriage from there so I could start early this morning.”

  “Thank you again for picking me up, Emily.”

  “I cannot think why I would not pick you up as I have always done,” she murmured. Her cheeks tinged a rose color, and Matthew sighed inwardly. Emily had grown from a tomboy into a beautiful, poised young woman, one any man would be proud to call his wife.

  Intelligent, educated and articulate, she graced many a dinner table with lively conversation. Though she had attended university with him, she had not pursued any sort of employment. Her family’s wealth did not require that she do so. He had often wondered why she attended college, but she had a lively mind, and he had enjoyed their shared assignments and homework.

  He pulled his gaze from her face and turned toward Sara. Sara watched him, her expression flat, without emotion. He smiled at her briefly, but she only lifted a corner of her mouth before turning away to look out the window.

  She seemed somehow remote, distanced, and he wondered if it was due to their arrival in what was to her a strange city, or perhaps due to the uncertainty of her future.

  “What do you think of Seattle, Miss Reed?” he asked, reverting to the formal use of her last name.

  “It’s big,” she said. “Busy. Lots of horses and wagons.”

  “Well, of course,” Emily said with a short laugh. Matthew directed a disapproving stare in her direction.

  “Yes, it is a large city, larger than Spokane,” Matthew said. “Given the hour, many people are on their way to work or making deliveries to businesses. The city settles down at night.”

  Sara nodded. “Yes, I’m sure it does.” She turned a shoulder to Emily and returned to staring out of the carriage window.

  Matthew had already deduced that these two women would not become friends, though he was not quite certain why. Sara seemed bent on ignoring Emily, and several of Emily’s comments could be construed as less than civil.

  He sighed heavily and followed Sara’s gaze to stare out the window.

  They arrived at his house on Queen Anne Hill in good time, and Raymond pulled the carriage up to the front door. He jumped down to open the carriage door, and Matthew climbed out to hand first Sara and then Emily down.

  “You will stay for some coffee?” Matthew said. In the past, Emily had always stayed for coffee when she had picked him up at the station. They would discuss Matthew’s most recent business trip and Emily’s activities in his absence.

  “Yes, thank you,” Emily said. “Your father told me to say that he was expecting us.”

  On cue, his father appeared in the doorway, followed by his mother. A tall, slender man like his son, Harry Webster raised a hand in greeting. Susan Webster, petite like Sara, stood beside him, looking years younger than her actual age in a fetching lilac silk gown that she favored. His mother shared the same blonde hair as Emily and still kept her hair color, while his father’s hair, chestnut like his own, had whitened over the years.

  Emily moved to stand beside his parents.

  “Matthew has brought a guest,” she announced.

  Matthew tucked Sara’s hand under his arm and led her forward.

  “Mother, Father, may I introduce Miss Sara Reed? Miss Reed, my father, Mr. Harry Webster, and my mother, Mrs. Susan Webster.”

  Impeccable manners prevented them from showing their surprise, as they must surely have been.

  “Good to meet you, my dear,” his father said jovially. “Come in. Let’s have some coffee.”

  “Delightful to meet you, Miss Reed,” his mother said. “Yes, please do come in. We usually have coffee together when Matt
hew returns from one of his trips so that he can regale us with tales of his travels.”

  His mother reached up to kiss Matthew on the cheek before taking Sara by the arm and turning toward the house. Emily tucked her hand into the crook of his father’s arm, and Matthew found himself trailing the group into the house.

  “Another cup of coffee for our guest, Mrs. Roe,” Matthew’s mother said as the housekeeper hurried up.

  A plump woman of Irish descent who had been with his family for more years than Matthew could remember, Mrs. Roe accepted a quick embrace from him.

  “Yes, ma’am,” she said with a beam in Matthew’s direction. She bustled off to the kitchen.

  Matthew’s mother led them across the large marble-tiled foyer and into the drawing room. Her favorite room in the house, she had decorated it in shades of green and rose, from the pale-green Oriental rug to the dark-rose sofas and forest-green easy chairs. Mahogany and cherrywood furnishings completed the room. A white marble fireplace dominated the center of the room, a warm fire crackling within. Rose-colored velvet curtains decorated the windows that looked out over the street in front of the house.

  Matthew’s mother led Sara to the one of the sofas and settled her there. Matthew took up a protective posture at the side of the sofa nearest Sara. His mother hesitated.

  “Won’t you sit, Matthew?” she asked. She seated herself next to Sara, and Matthew’s father deposited Emily next to his wife before taking one of the easy chairs for himself.

  “Yes, thank you. I will when the coffee comes, Mother.”

  “Welcome to our home, Miss Reed,” his mother said. “I hope your journey was pleasant.”

  “Yes, thank you,” Sara said.

  Matthew watched as Sara characteristically laced and unlaced her fingers. She was nervous, and he could do little to ease her fears at the moment but stand beside her. He preferred to speak to his parents in private regarding Sara’s stay, but the matter could not wait for Emily’s departure.

  “Miss Reed has come to stay with us for a period,” Matthew said before any further conversation unfolded.

  His father quirked an eyebrow, but a ready smile lightened his face.