by Julianne Lee
A frisson of alarm skittered up Shelby’s spine and into her scalp so the hair at the back of her neck stood on end. Cautiously, she said, “What would that be?” She sipped coffee and hoped the cup hid her eyes.
He gave a slight shrug. “Something. Ever since that day Samuel Clarence cut open my arm. I can’t say what it is, but you’re different.” His thumb went to his thigh and began his habitual, fidgety drumming.
A groan nearly rose, but she sighed instead. “I’ve had things on my mind.”
“Don’t misunderstand me. I like it. I mean, I liked you before. I always liked you.” Tension gathered in him. His body seemed to coil as if to spring and she could hear the energy gather in his voice. The thumb stilled. “But when you finally let me kiss you, it’s like you were different somehow. Are different still.”
Shelby’s throat began to tighten, and she struggled against the maddening urge to confess to him she was an entirely different person. If she did that he would think her crazy, and that would be the end of his regard for her. She could never tell him why she was different. Every sense alert, she kept still to hear him out.
His voice now no more than a low, gentle rumbling in his chest, he continued, “You know I’d wanted to kiss you for the longest time. I could never figure out why you kept ducking me though you also let me think you had affection for me. It was da...” he faltered as if skipping over a word that had risen to his lips but he preferred not to say in front of her. He shifted it. “It was awful confusing. I could hardly stand it. Then at the same time I was told Samuel stood higher in your esteem than I’d thought. It was hard to know where the truth lay, and whether any truth was being told.”
She gave him a sharp glance. Lucas avoided her eyes and stared into his empty coffee cup. What in the world had Mary Beth said to Samuel before the switch? Shelby began a denial. “Lucas—”
“I apologize.” Now he looked at her again. “But that day at the horse ring, and then at the dance, it seemed you’d changed your mind completely. And I could see...can see in your eyes something that had never been there before. It’s like a sort of courage. See, you’re looking me straight in the eye now. You talk to me about abolition straight across and all blunt like, and you’re not afraid to say what you think. Most of all, and most importantly, you no longer go all pink and fidgety whenever I try to talk to you.”
Shelby’s heart thudded in her chest as she realized what he was telling her. Though he didn’t know it, he was delineating the differences between herself and Mary Beth. He could tell she wasn’t the same, and even more important he liked the changes. He liked her. As he continued, tears sprang to her eyes and she couldn’t control them.
“You know I’ve been hankering to ask for your hand. But putting one’s heart out where it can get stomped on isn’t something most men have the nerve for.” There was a pause while he took a deep breath and screwed up the courage to do that very thing. “I’ve always thought we’d make a good marriage.” He paused as if to give her an opportunity to stop him, but she let him continue, caught like a deer in headlights by the understanding it was herself he wanted, not Mary Beth. “All along I thought we could be comfortable together, that you’d fit in with our family. Before, I was willing to wait for you to indicate your true feelings then accept whatever answer you might give. Before, I thought if there was someone else you loved better than me I could let you go and that would be that. But not now.”
Shelby held her breath.
Lucas continued, tension rising in his voice. “Now I’ve decided I can’t wait for you to come to your senses. Mary Beth, if I cared for you before, now I’m captivated. If I felt affection before, I now feel love. Before, I wanted you. Now I need you with all my soul.”
It was herself he meant, not Mary Beth. Shelby was dizzy with astonishment. His words touched her in her most tender spot, where she’d despaired of ever again being taken for herself instead of Mary Beth. He reached behind her to set his cup on the table, then held her hand in both of his.
“Mary Beth, I have to ask how you feel about me. I must know if there’s any chance of winning your heart. It’s a fire inside me. I don’t sleep nights for thinking of you. All I ever contemplate any more is how happy I would be if you were to consent to become my wife.”
Now, having laid bare his soul, he handed her the knife to finish him off if she desired it. “May I go to your father and ask for your hand?” He was at her mercy.
A confusion of emotion whirled in her. The desire to do what was right fought with her desire for Lucas. In the midst of it, she was not entirely certain what was right any more. This was no longer Mary Beth’s life. The person Lucas was talking to hadn’t been Mary Beth for months. Shelby was there now, looking into this man’s eyes and caring for him more than Mary Beth ever had. Or ever would. To throw his declaration back at him and hurt him horribly, to bury her own feelings any longer, would have been foolish and destructive. Furthermore, pointless if Shelby were to continue in this century. Her heart swelled as she realized how much she wanted to tell him yes.
And so she did.
“Go to my father, Lucas. Tell him we want to get married right away.”
For a moment he only blinked. His face went slack with surprise. Then a big, white smile lit it up. “Yes,” he said. “You said yes.”
She nodded. “I’ve come to realize I was being silly. I think there will be nobody else in the world I will ever love more than I love you, and I only wish I hadn’t taken so long to know the truth.”
For a long moment he appeared to want to say something but had been struck speechless. His throat worked, but no sound came. Finally he cleared it. A chuckle rose from him, and he brushed his fingertips against her forehead before laying a hand aside her face. She leaned into it and kissed his palm. With a long sigh, he murmured, “Sweet woman.” Then he leaned down to kiss her, with the tenderness of a man giving over his soul.
When he straightened once more, it was with difficulty for it was plain he didn’t want to stop. There was a flush in his face, and he drew a deep breath as if struggling for control. Shelby found herself wanting to take him by the neck and pull him horizontal on the sofa, but he was right. If they didn’t stop now it would end in disgrace when Mother or Father next walked into the room. She stood, only for the sake of not making a fool of herself. “Let me ask Mother to wake him. You can ask him now.”
Lucas stood also. “Now?”
“No time like the present.” A shiver took her as she realized how well she knew that. Lucas bent to kiss her again, and by the time he straightened she was barely able to stand. The bright joy in his eyes was infectious. Her heart skipped and skittered with it. She had to clear her throat before she could speak, then said, “I’ll get Father.”
“I’ll wait here.”
Quite rattled, she set out to find Mother.
Her search ended in the dining room, where Mother was lighting the candelabra on the table. Though this wasn’t her mother, her own mother not yet born in this time and already gone by the time Shelby had left her own century, it felt strange to be so excited about her news. Perhaps it was that she knew how well received it would be. In any case, she could hardly contain herself.
“Mother, is Father awake yet? Lucas wishes to speak to him.”
The older woman straightened, and raised her eyebrows in query. Shelby nodded, and a quiet smile brightened Mother’s face. She replied, “I’ll summon him.”
Not I’ll see if he’s awake or I’ll ask if he’s available. Father was going to be summoned. God help him if for some reason he should decline Lucas’s request. Shelby didn’t expect he’d get laid again for the rest of his life if he did something that nuts. Mother gave her a puzzled, yet pleased, look, as if to ask, “What made you change your mind?” But then didn’t wait for a reply and instead hurried from the room.
Shelby busied herself with setting the table, over Annie’s protests she was the one who should do it. Though she tried to as
sure the servant it was all right, Annie was not happy to acquiesce. Nevertheless, it made Shelby happy to accomplish the task and she gave a bit of thought to what Lucas had said about laziness and sin.
Placing the last spoon next to the last plate, she stopped cold as realization stole over her and horror settled into her gut. Standing stock still, as if by not moving she could halt the advance of time, she struggled to not weep as she remembered Lucas would be dead in only two and a half years.
Chapter 11
December 2004
“What the hell?” Jason was out of his seat to see if Shelby was all right.
She slipped from her chair, ducked and squatted on the floor, staring at the chandelier over the dining table, her eyes wide with terror.
“What’s wrong, Shel? What’s happened to you?” He knelt beside her and put an arm across her shoulders, stunned to find her trembling. But as she stared up at the light, her shoulders relaxed some and she leaned back in her seat. Her eyes didn’t move from the chandelier.
“It’s not fire.” Her voice was soft, wondering.
He looked up. “No.” Of course not. “They finally got the electricity back on. Now I won’t have to take the milk out to the porch to keep it cold. Again.”
She frowned at that and peered at him a moment, but said nothing. Whatever had happened to her, she sure wasn’t much like the woman he’d been seeing lately. Evil twin? She only looked like Shelby. Certainly she was playing this Mary Beth thing to the hilt.
He stood and helped her back into her seat. “What’s your last name, Mary?”
“Campbell. Had you been listening to me, you would have remembered.” She sat perfectly erect, with amazing posture. “My father’s plantation is outside Hendersonville, and our house near the Indian graveyard.”
“What Indian graveyard?”
“The other side of the ferry road, south of town.”
“South of Hendersonville is the lake.”
Her eyes brightened, and she nodded. Now they were getting somewhere. “Yes! Indian Lake is on my father’s land.”
He had to laugh at that, and it erupted from his nose too quick for him to control it. “Indian Lake is in Hendersonville. And it’s tract homes. Mostly. Big, expensive houses. McMansions, they call them. Great, big, mass-produced tract homes.”
Now she peered at him as if he were the one who had lost his mind. “Indian Lake is a lake. Or, perhaps, little more than a big pond, but it’s water nonetheless. And there’s nothing in Hendersonville but a dry goods store and a few houses. And Pete’s hay barn.”
“The lake is Old Hickory. Old Hickory Lake. Named after—”
“—Andrew Jackson.”
“Right.”
She raised her chin proudly. “My father knew the President.”
Whoa. That was a segue to send one reeling. “Your father knew...President Bush?” He crossed his arms and stood hipshot, but had to take a moment to tug the back of his pajamas again.
She frowned again. “President Jackson. We were just talking about Andrew Jackson.”
Another chuckle tried to rise, and he swallowed it. This was entirely too bizarre. “Your father knew Andrew Jackson?”
“Indeed, he did. They were cousins by marriage.”
“Oh. So you’re saying he knew about Andrew Jackson.” Strange thing to say. Who could live in Middle Tennessee and not know about Andrew Jackson?
“No. Knew him personally.” Her frustration was rising and her eyes widened with it. “Honestly, sir, for a Brosnahan you certainly know very little about your own community.” She stood. “Now, I really must be on my way. If you won’t tell me where my father is, I need to search for him. So I’ll be bidding you good day now.” Then, with chin up and back straight as a rod, she turned and headed for the foyer. Jason followed her at a saunter, wondering where she was taking this.
But before she made it to the front door, she stopped cold. Her shoulders slumped as she stared at the wall over the telephone stand, at the monthly calendar hung there. Not speaking, not moving, perhaps not even breathing for a very long moment. He stood exactly as still, waiting to learn what had captured her attention so fully. A small noise came from somewhere in her throat.
Finally, she said, her voice choked, “Two thousand four? December, 2004?”
There was no reply to that except, “Yes.”
“This isn’t a novelty calendar? A joke?”
“No. Not a joke.” Whatever joke there could possibly be regarding a calendar.
When Mary Beth—for he could no longer think of this crazy woman as the Shelby he’d known—turned, her face was slack with terror, eyes wide and dancing around. “Annie. Annie did this.”
“Annie?”
She looked around as if searching for this person, but of course there was nobody else in the house. “She belongs to my father. Our house servant. She taught me...showed me...it was supposed to free me from a future of bondage to a man I don’t love. It was supposed to...” Her breath hitched, and tears came to her eyes. Her lower lip trembled. “It was magic. A talisman.” Another moan and whimper escaped from her and she turned circles on the floor as if unsure where to go but needing to go somewhere. Anywhere. Her voice went low with despair. “It was a blasphemy. Oh, God.” She sank to her knees, shaking. “Oh, Jesus save me.”
Jason caught her before she could collapse to the floor, and she clung to him. Her arms wrapped tightly around his neck, she wept on his shoulder.
Oh, brother.
For more than half an hour the woman was incoherent, but he was able to carry her into the living room and sit her on the couch where she wept and rocked, hugging herself, weeping, rocking. By the time she was cried out, her nose was swollen and red as a plum and her mouth was equally dark and tender. He sat near her on the couch, waiting patiently and wishing that damned ambulance would hurry up and get here. But it was nearly noon and there was no sign. Only more snow. The stuff was now about six inches deep everywhere.
When she finally looked at him, her eyes were as bright and bloodied as the rest of her face. “My diary. I must find my diary.”
He glanced around. “I’m sorry, I haven’t seen it. What does it look like?”
Her fingers spread to indicate a small book. “The binding is black leather, and it’s tied with a long leather thong that wraps around it.”
“No. Did you drop it outside?”
“I had nothing in my hands when I arrived here.”
He’d noticed that. She hadn’t even had a purse, which figured if she’d been out running. But then her having a diary made no sense. “I’m sorry, I don’t know where your diary is.”
There was another long silence, and he began to think about lunch. But then she said, “You own this house?”
He nodded.
“You inherited it?”
Again, he nodded. “I bought out my sisters when Mom died. Neither of their husbands wanted to live here, and they gave me a reasonable deal.”
“You’re descended from the Brosnahans who lived here in 1860?”
“I’d say I’d have to be. I’m descended from the Brosnahans who built it two centuries ago. This house has never been sold. Been mortgaged more than once, but never sold. And if I have any say in the matter, it never will be. I’ve been telling you that ever since...I mean, I told Shelby that when she offered to buy the place.” This line of questioning was creeping him out. “Our family has always valued our continuity. Our heritage.”
Now she was peering into his face as if attempting to divine a truth. Her voice was low and soft when she spoke. “Who is your great-great-great-grandfather? Which of your ancestors lived in his house a hundred and forty-four years ago? Was it Amos? Lucas Robert?”
Lucas Robert Brosnahan. Goose bumps rose on his arms and he rubbed them down. That was the soldier his grandfather had spoken of whenever family history was discussed. One of the three brothers who had fought in the Civil War. “Lucas Robert. Yeah, he was an ancestor.”
>
She paled, and began searching his eyes. For a long moment, she seemed to be looking for something in him, and he wondered whether she was finding it. Finally, she said, “Jason Brosnahan, I believe I am also one of your ancestors.”
Chapter 12
January 1861
The wedding was set for early March. Soon enough to suit Shelby and Lucas, but also far enough along in the year for there to be at least a chance of good weather. Shelby found herself looking forward to it, the anticipation the more joyful because she’d begun to think she could never look to the future again. Now there was something to look forward to, a reason to get up in the morning, and it was good so long as she didn’t look too far into the future.
Lucas visited the Campbell house every weekend now, and was welcome company after so many months alone with the parents. The four of them passed afternoons in pleasant conversation, partaking of refreshments served by Annie, and Shelby often sat quietly to simply watch Lucas’s face as he spoke to the others. It was a delight to see his expression reveal his passion for each subject and his enthusiasm for the world at large. Guessing Lucas’s true feelings was never difficult, and that made him wonderful in Shelby’s eyes.
One drizzly Sunday afternoon Father drove Shelby and Mother to the Brosnahan house for a visit. It was heart-pounding joy to return to the house that had once been hers, and the comfort of stepping through the front door made her know for a certainty she’d made the right decision to marry Lucas. As sure as she was that Mary Beth shouldn’t live there, Shelby was equally certain it was the only place on earth she herself belonged. While Father and Amos kicked back by the dining room fire to shoot the breeze with Dad Brosnahan, and Mother disappeared into the basement to make the trek through the tunnel to chat with Ruth in the kitchen outbuilding, Shelby stood in the foyer with Lucas and simply enjoyed being there.
