Only In My Dreams: A Time Travel Anthology

by Sahara Kelly

  Heads were turning as her voice grew stronger. “If you had waited, given him due process of law, asked the right questions and done your duty as a man of God, I could have saved his life. I could have told you the truth.”

  Her father’s face hardened. “You whore. Be silent.” The words were hissed between clenched teeth.

  “It doesn’t matter what I am—not now. What matters is that you’ve killed an innocent man. You are the murderers here, not Christian Lawrence.” Her words hung in the air, an accusation that did not sit well on either man’s shoulders.

  The curate’s lips curled in a grimace of distaste. “I’m…I’m…shocked…” He seemed to withdraw both from her and her father.

  “I’m disgusted.” Reverend Danton’s eyes hardened. “You are no daughter of mine anymore. I’m done with you. Get your whore’s body out of my sight.”

  He swung his hand viciously toward Mary Anne’s face, the blow catching her by surprise and making her stumble. Losing her balance, she fell hard, catching her side on the edge of the cart by the side of the road.

  It was a sharp collision, driving the air from her lungs. She tumbled headlong into the dirt, sobbing out a cry as the pain of the impact cascaded through her body. Curling in upon herself, she wept, the pain radiating in waves, jolting her belly and her gut even as she wrapped her arms across her stomach.

  It got worse, like a knife stabbing her repeatedly and she whimpered aloud as she realized that her thighs were wet, that blood was seeping through her gown onto the sandy surface of the country lane.

  She was losing Christian’s child—she had lost Christian and now the baby, too—it was too much for her to bear.

  This time, there was no voice encouraging her to stay.

  Her vision faded, the pain ebbed away—there was nothing but blackness—

  Chapter Eight

  Jake watched Marianne as she slept on the couch, bundled in a blanket and snuffling a little into the cushion beneath her head.

  He’d sent Renny to bed a couple of hours ago, promising to stay awake and tend the fire until Marianne awoke. There was no point in both of them losing sleep. Not right now, anyway.

  He had a book next to him and a low light illuminated the handsome couple on the cover. Maura Donner was indeed one helluva writer if she could hold his attention with a Regency romance. And she had. He’d picked it up out of idle curiosity and found himself drawn into the tale of lovers, carriages, adventures that were improbable, but believable. Her characters were crystal clear in his head, a tribute to her skills.

  Jake was impressed with Maura Donner, but even more impressed with Marianne Donovan. She’d taken a journey few women would ever experience. He felt, deep in his bones, that she’d survive it. But he kept watch over her sleeping form, just in case she needed a helping hand.

  Something was gnawing at him about this whole thing. Something in the back of his mind that wouldn’t come forward and be identified, but was there, all the same. He stared into the fire, letting his mind clear of clutter and drift—doing the sort of mental exercises he asked of his clients.

  And there it was. The nightingale. The one continuous thread through Marianne’s voyage, in one form or another. His hand crept absently to the small alabaster raven around his neck as the germ of an idea began to form.

  Was it remotely possible that birds were the key? That things like love or souls or something could be transferred into a species of creature and carried through time until a suitable moment occurred?

  For him and Renny, it had been a raven. Jakob, his special soulmate. Jakob had been so much more than just a bird and had indeed carried something special through millennia. As time passed, Jake found himself remembering his own history with greater detail. He still marveled at the miraculous way he and Renny had found each other—at last.

  For Marianne, there was a nightingale. A song or a name—regardless of the form, it seemed to be consistently present in her memories and dreams.

  He frowned at the fire. This was really pushing the envelope when it came to theories. Bad enough that he was encouraging some really weird past life regression stuff. If he threw birds into the mix, he’d be laughed off the face of the planet.

  Well, it was something to discuss with Renny when he had chance. She’d tell him if he was out of his frickin’ mind. A smile chased the creases from his eyebrows. Renny was everything he’d ever wanted in a woman and then some. Their love was predestined, a chase through time that had ended exactly where it was supposed to.

  He could only wish that Marianne’s dreams could end so well, but he had no idea if they would. Jake was troubled by that. He didn’t like the thought that he’d opened a can of worms for her, forced her to face the death of her beloved. And there was no hint that any resolution might lie ahead for her in this lifetime.

  Would she be able deal with it? What would it be like for her now, the memory of a grand passion residing inside her heart? Perhaps she would measure every love affair, every man in her life, against Christian. And that would not be a good thing, since Jake doubted anybody would be able to come close.

  He knew, from his own experience, that once a love like that came along, nothing could compare. Ever. It was a haunting of the most wonderfully painful kind, a kind that brought ghosts of desire, an ache of emptiness along with it.

  Marianne stirred, distracting Jake from his thoughts. She whimpered, then sighed.

  “Hey, honey.” He moved to sit on the floor next to the couch and stroked her shoulder gently. “How do you feel?”

  Her eyes opened and, for a moment or two, Jake wasn’t sure if she actually saw him. Then she blinked and stretched her neck a little as if easing a kink out of the muscles.

  “Hi, Jake.”

  “You okay?” He kept his touch light, soothing her, and his voice low in the shadows of the living room.

  “I think so.” Freeing her arms from the blanket, Marianne pushed herself into an upright position and ran a hand through her hair. “Feel a bit like I’ve been run over by a truck, but other than that…”

  She swallowed and cleared her throat, sighing gratefully as Jake passed her a bottle of water. He was prepared…most of his clients developed a healthy thirst after their sessions.

  “Good, that’s good.” Pouring calm confidence into his tone, Jake shifted back to his chair. “If there’s anything you need, just say the word.”

  She drank, then looked up at him. “Jake. I died, didn’t I?”

  “I don’t know, sweetheart. I can’t tell you that.” Her eyes were dazed and still turned inward, looking at something he couldn’t see.

  “I think I did. But—” She sucked in air, a gusty breath that seemed to refill her lungs. “Oh, God. I know. Now I know what happened…”

  “Can you tell me?” He almost whispered the question. It might be too soon for her to deal with it all or, then again, now might be the best time while it was still fresh in her mind.

  Marianne glanced around. “Where’s Renny?”

  “Asleep. I sent her to bed. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure she knows it all.”

  Marianne nodded and slowly, awkwardly, began unfolding the simple tale of missed opportunities and chance encounters that had made her dreams a nightmare for so long.

  “…And as I fell, I knew I’d hurt myself. Badly.” She rested a hand on her belly. “I was losing my child. Christian’s child. I’d lost them both.”

  Jake said nothing. What could he say? She’d lived these moments, these tragedies. There was little he could offer in the way of comfort, except for his presence.

  “I do believe that I could not have survived. Miscarriages were common and death often the result. Even childbirth was risky in those days.”

  Jake noted her voice was calm, even though her eyes shone with unshed tears.

  “It’s funny.” She shrugged.

  “What’s funny?”

  “I ache, I want to weep just thinking about it all. But it’s like—lik
e—a weight has been lifted.” She glanced at him. “The pain is all still there, but now that I know what happened and why…well, it’s just easier to bear for some reason.”

  “That’s good.” Jake’s inner tension uncoiled. She was going to be okay.

  “It’s so stupid, really. Like some novel full of missed opportunities, accidental mistakes, shoving a note under the door only to have it end up under the carpet and remain unread. Lives changed by the sheerest coincidences…”

  “Yes, it is. Life can be like that, can’t it?”

  “I guess.” She stared at the fire, silent for a long period. Then she moved. “I think I need to sleep now.” A small grin curved her lips. “I think, thanks to you, that I can sleep now.”

  “Good girl.” Jake rose to his feet. “I think you will, too. But if not, this house is your house for as long as you’re here. Feel free to wander if you need to.” He took her hand and tugged her to her feet. “I hate to sound like Scarlett O’Hara, but tomorrow is another day. If you can put all this aside just for a few hours, it’ll be a good thing.”

  She nodded and smothered a yawn. “Thanks, but God, I’m tired enough to sleep standing up right now.”

  He chuckled softly as he closed the fireplace screen and turned off the lights. “Lying down is better. Go to bed, Marianne. Let it go.”

  “Yes, Captain Butler. Tomorrow is indeed another day. Can we go to Tara?”

  *~~*~~*

  To her surprise, Marianne did sleep. And like the proverbial log, too. Several hours of total, blissful unconsciousness—something she couldn’t remember doing for far too long.

  When she woke, it was to find the sun high in the sky and the birds chirping crazily outside the window. In desperate need of coffee, she hurried through a shower, threw her clothes on and stumbled downstairs, led by her nose to the pot brewing on the kitchen counter.

  “Well, hello to you, too.” Renny grinned at her from the doorway to the garden. “Welcome back to the land of the living.”

  Marianne felt a slight blush rise over her cheeks. “Yeah, sorry. I did sleep rather late, didn’t I?”

  “No prob, honey.” Renny moved inside and poured herself another mug. “It’s actually only about ten o’clock. And sleep is a good thing for you right now.” She sipped. “Jake told me.”

  “Ah. Okay.” Marianne crossed to the table and sat down.

  “Sad story. Very poignant.”

  “Yes. Yes, it is.” The coffee tasted wonderful this morning. “But I’m glad I know the whole thing now. It makes it easier to bear.”

  Even as she spoke, Marianne knew it was the truth. Her love for Christian was as strong as ever. Her grief at his horrible death as painful as ever. But now—now she knew. She glanced up at Renny. “Funny how life is all about choices, isn’t it? A choice to help a child and a man’s life is forfeit.”

  “Yes.” Renny nodded and sat down across from Marianne. “We all have to make choices, honey. She chose to help an injured child. That says a lot about Mary Anne right there. She put that little girl’s needs before her own need to be with the man she loved. Mary Anne was a good woman. A woman with a kind heart, a woman with passion and tenderness.”

  Marianne nodded. “I know. And knowing that, I have to ask myself if I would have done anything different.” She paused, lost for a moment in the past. “Honestly, I don’t know.”

  Renny sighed. “Don’t even try to answer that question. It’s impossible. You know too much from the here and now to try and second guess the way-back-when.”

  Marianne swallowed. “Thank you, Renny. I have to thank Jake, too, when I see him, but I just want you to know that…well…”

  Renny reached over and covered Marianne’s hand with her own. “It’s okay. I understand.” Her fingers tightened. “I really do understand.”

  “Sharing a moment here? Can I watch?” Jake peeked in through the open kitchen window.

  “Pervert.” Renny laughed at him. “Marianne is merely trying to express her enormous gratitude for our intervention into her most private passions and dreams.”

  “You didn’t mention our bill?”

  “Jake, you’re an ass.” His wife gazed affectionately at him as Marianne chuckled.

  “Well, if there isn’t going to be any girl-on-girl action, why don’t you two stop holding hands and get out here into the sunshine? It’s glorious, warm, the chrysanthemums smell all—um—chrysanthemum-y…”

  Renny rolled her eyes. “C’mon, Marianne. What he means is that if we go out there, he won’t have to do any of the weeding he promised, since he’ll have the excuse of not wanting to leave us alone.”

  “Hey.” Jake’s snort of outrage echoed through the kitchen as Marianne and Renny walked into the sunshine. “I’ve been working.”

  Marianne looked at the Sunday paper, messily dumped on one of the low tables outside next to a comfortable lounge chair and an empty coffee mug. “Mmm hmm.”

  “Okay. Sort of working. More like thinking a lot about the work I will be doing.” His smile was innocent and a thing of delight. “As a matter of fact…” He leaned down and grabbed a section of the paper. “I found something.”

  Renny pursed her lips. “Really?”

  Jake dropped a light kiss on them. “Yes. Really.”

  “You’re incorrigible.”

  Marianne looked away. Their love for each other was so strong. It almost out-glowed the sunlight dappling the stones of the patio beneath her feet. Would she ever feel that way about a man? After Christian?

  She couldn’t help but doubt it. She’d known a love like that, even though it had been in her distant past. She wouldn’t settle for anything less. Not in this lifetime, anyway.

  It was a rather depressing realization.

  “See?” Jake’s voice interrupted Marianne’s train of thought. He was pointing at something in the paper.

  “Hmm.” Renny glanced at Marianne. “I don’t know, Jake…”

  “What?” Marianne looked at them both. “What is it?”

  “Jake’s had an idea. One of his better ones, as a matter of fact.” Renny smiled. “He thinks—and I tend to agree—it would be good for us all to get out this afternoon. It’s a great day, the scenery is perfect, the sunshine’s warm…hell, why not?”

  Marianne blinked. “Um…”

  “Look.” Jake held up the folded newspaper. “We’re less than an hour from the Oakwood Concert Bowl.”

  “Oh, wow. Yes, that’s right.” Marianne remembered that the summer music and theater facility wasn’t that far away. Although an artist in her own right, she’d never attended any of the plays staged there, or the open air concerts offered by both rock bands and classical orchestras.

  “This afternoon, music lovers are to be treated to…lemme see, where is it?” Jake squinted at the advertisement. “Yeah, here it is.” He quoted the text. “A unique way to end the concert season. Oakwood Concert Bowl music lovers will be treated to the debut performance of a new symphony, conducted by the composer himself. Maestro Harvey has traveled from California especially for this engagement and will be leading the Oakwood Symphony Orchestra as they present, for the very first time, his latest work.”

  “Maestro who?” Renny tilted her head.

  “Dunno. Harvey somebody. Californian.” Jake looked apologetically at his wife. “Sorry, darlin’. I’m not really up on the classical music world at the moment.”

  She nodded. “Yup. Now if it was the Rolling Stones…”

  Jake’s eyes gleamed. “Point taken.” He turned to Marianne. “What do you think, honey? Are you up for a ride into the beautiful bowels of New England in the fall? Followed by a two-hour snooze on the soft green lawns of the Oakwood Concert Bowl?”

  Renny pushed her hair back over her shoulders. “Think about it, Marianne. It’ll do us all a world of good to get out of the house. Look at something different, change our line of thought. I know I could use the break and I ‘m guessing it would work for you, too.” She grinned.
“It’s an outdoor theater. We get to sit on the grass in the sunshine and listen to the music. Napping is not mandatory.”

  “It’s not?” Jake sounded stunned.

  Both Renny and Marianne laughed. Within a few moments, Marianne realized that, yes, this was something she would like to do. There was much she had to come to terms with, but brooding about it, wandering around and pulling it to bits in her head while she analyzed it—that wasn’t her way.

  God knew she should be writing, but she wasn’t sure she was up to that yet. There was still too much of Christian and the pain of losing him lingering in her heart. He was so much a part of all her heroes, all her romance novels.

  It’s too soon.

  But a lazy fall afternoon of music and sunshine—yes, that she could do.

  Her smile was enough of an answer for Jake and Renny. Before she knew it, she was bundled into the back of their station wagon along with a basket of snacks, a couple of bottles of wine and several thick blankets.

  It was wonderful to drive down country roads, to see the fall colors blossoming richly throughout the woods, to let the air whip her hair around and to breathe. Her soul was grieving, but her mind was at ease for the first time in so long, she’d forgotten what it felt like.

  With each mile, Marianne’s world adjusted, shifted, sorted itself into a new and more comfortable pattern. She had memories, gloriously wonderful—and yes, tragic—memories. But now, that’s all they were. Just memories. No longer was she crushed with a sense of desolate frustration or unfulfilled desire.

  The past had become just that…the past.

  Although it hurt to remember it, she knew that if she allowed herself sufficient time, it would finally settle into where it was supposed to be. She was, in fact, blessed in many ways. She had a wealth of experiences in her mind that most people would never know. Vivid recollections of a period in history and its people. Material that she could draw upon for her novels, a researcher’s dream. And she also possessed a new and unfamiliar sense of fate. A personal awareness of what it meant to make choices in her life, how those totally innocent choices could mean the difference between life and death.