Lynne’s first thought when she awakened was two more days—today, Sunday, than it would be Monday. The next was that at least she’d passed the first hurdle. Surprisingly the four other members of the board, one woman and three men, had presented an entirely different attitude than did Wilda Walsh. They were protective of the reputation of Maud Bailey Sandford, their local celebrity, but seemed glad at what they saw as the well deserved attention now coming to her.
Wilda, still bristling with hostility, had led the attack, but thanks to Moss and the information he’d given her, her only problem was to avoid giving away knowledge that she couldn’t possibly possess. Maud had not said in her journals, at least the part that Lynne had read, that she’d had a daughter outside marriage, so Lynne couldn’t bring up that point. Nobody else mentioned it, though she had to assume the circumstances of her daughter’s birth must be known locally. Maybe not, it had happened a long time ago.
On the other hand, they were all delighted to hear how much Maud had loved her life out here on the ranch, how hard she’d worked and eventually had come to express her trials and triumphs in prose that was beginning to be recognized for its true value.
Afterwards, urged by conscience, she had called her mother and talked for a long time, making up for her neglect by talking about the Maud who had become a real person to her, more thanks to Moss than to her own research.
Before they finished talking, Mom told her how proud she was of her for doing a delegated task with such enthusiasm. She wished she could tell her mother about Moss and how much she loved him, but, of course, she couldn’t.
She’d lain awake a long time, hoping and wishing for a visit from Moss. Finally as morning neared, she’d fallen into heavy sleep and had awakened with the dawn full of fear.
Two more days gone and she had no idea if she would ever see him again. Almost automatically she picked up her phone, and sent her customary message to his sister. Come and see Moss before it is too late.
No doubt Cynthia hated seeing those messages and was wishing she’d never allowed Lynne into her home, but at least she hadn’t blocked the texts.
Suddenly she just had to add more. Cynthia, I know I’m probably driving you crazy, but he means so much to me. I just know if he was kept on life support a little longer, he’d pull through and get well. Please give him that chance.
The instant the message was sent, she regretted it. This would probably be enough for Cynthia, who didn’t want to hurt anymore, to shut her down for good.
And without Cynthia she would have no hope.
“Lynne,” she whirled at the sound of her name and there he was. “I have one burning question,” he told her.
She ran to him, halting so that she was standing right in front of him. She was so glad she could hardly breathe. “What question?”
“You’ve never told me what awful thing you did that made your family send you out here.”
She shook her head. “It was nothing. No big deal. You’ve been gone for two whole days,” she accused, suddenly close to tears. If only she could go into his arms and be held close. If only she could reach up and press her lips against his.
“Don’t cry, my darling. Don’t waste the time we have together on tears.”
“It’s just that I’m so afraid that I’m going to lose you.”
His hand nearly took her hair, nearly tousled her curls. “I’m feeling stronger. When they turn off the devices that help me breathe, that keep me going, I’m just going to keep on drawing in one breath after another, my lungs pulling in air, my heart continuing beat after beat. There’s no way I would leave you.”
She wanted so much to believe him.
They had the day together and that night she refused to go to sleep because so often that was when he went away, while she was sleeping. Finally as morning neared, her unwilling eyes closed and she slumped at his side into exhausted sleep.
All he wanted to do was sit and look at her, she seemed so young and vulnerable there on the sofa. He ached to take her in his arms, to believe what he’d said to her, hoping it was true. Even to him a forever kind of future seemed too good to be true. They didn’t have the luxury possessed by most other lovers of not knowing when their time together would come to an end. Their time was finite. Monday it would be all over.
She slept for only half an hour and awakened with fear in her eyes that dissolved into tears when she saw that he was still at her side. “I’m sorry, I never meant to go to sleep.”
He laughed at her. “My darling, you must rest or you’ll be ill.”
He reached toward her and to his horror, he felt himself being drawn away from her. She screamed and he tried to grab her hand and, for the first time, felt it warm and real in his grasp.
This time when he left, he took her with him.
Chapter Sixteen
The warmth of his grasp was quickly gone and she found herself looking at him through glass. For a few seconds, she rejoiced in seeing him in the flesh. No more ghostly outlines, no more shadows. The strong and virile man she loved stood before her, but they could no more touch than before.
She glanced around, trying to take the situation in. She was still wearing the jeans and shirt she’d had on at the ranch, but she sat on a high stool and held a speaking device in her hand.
Other people were in booths similar to hers and they were also talking to men on the other side. Taking in the guards who watched from each end of the room, she realized she must be a visitor at the prison where Moss had been housed.
Somehow she had moved back to the time before the accident when he’d still been incarcerated.
“Miss Hallam,” his voice sounded in her ear. “I appreciate your attempts to help me, but I’m afraid it’s rather hopeless. I’ve been locked up here since I was eighteen and I’m thirty two now.”
Thirty two. Two years ago, more or less. She knew why she was here. She must play some part in helping Moss get his freedom.
“But I know you are innocent.”
“I beg your pardon, but how can you know that. You must have been just a little girl when I was sentenced.” He sounded like a grown man being patient with a child.
She remembered everything that had happened since he’d’ first came to haunt the ranch house, but obviously the Moss of two years ago had no memories of what was still to happen.
She tried to remember what he’d said. Somebody, somewhere convicted of another crime had confessed to murdering his girlfriend, the girl he’d been sent to prison for killing. If only she’d questioned him more and learned the details. Then she would know what she must do.
He couldn’t tell her now why he’d been released. He didn’t know because it hadn’t happened yet. And she had no idea of where to begin to prove him innocent.
But I am here, she told herself. Maud had told him all of this must be happening for a reason and from now on she would act as though she believed that wise old woman. I am here to play a part in setting him free.
After spending all the visiting time she was allowed trying to extract information from her unwitting lover, she blew him a kiss as she was forced to leave.
She found herself in Leavenworth, Kansas without the wallet that contained her identification, credit cards, and what cash she normally carried. It was late afternoon and she had nowhere to go so she did the only thing she could. She called home.
Two years ago, she was still a student and dependent on her parents’ support, though she did work part time for extra spending money. The story she put together was fairly believable since at that time she’d been fighting for her independence and tended to sometimes act impulsively.
She talked to Mom and told her she had taken a brief trip with girlfriends across middle America, had her purse stolen and was without resources in a town in Kansas.
She assured her mother that she would report the theft to the police and that she was perfectly safe, though without funds and that her friends were not well enough supplied to lend aid
. Within an hour, Mom called her back, telling her where to find the local American Express office and pick up the sum of money that was being sent to her. Mom had also arranged a room for her at a local hotel, prepaid by credit card.
As she never had in the past, Lynne appreciated the advantages of having involved parents. Some moms might have told her she’d gotten into this situation by herself and could just take care of herself. She would hear a lot about this when she got home, but right now they would do what they could to see that she was all right.
After picking up the money, she made the most of what time was left to the day, going to the library to do a computer search. The latest news from the California area that had been Moss’s home was of the arrest of a suspected serial killer.
McElaney Thompson was a white male in his fifties and he’d been caught when an intended victim pulled an unexpected weapon and frantically shot him. Not critically wounded, he was under guard in a hospital and singing like the proverbial canary. He seemed, in fact, proud of his terrible crimes that seemed to date back for many years.
Lynne stared, transfixed, at the computer screen. This was why she’d been brought back here today. To see this news story and be the first to recognize it might connect to the crime of which Moss was accused.
Her triumph was interrupted when she heard a soft groan and looked up to see that a man at a nearby table, research materials piled in front of him, had slumped face-down on to the books and newspapers he’d been reading.
Jumping up, she ran to his side. “Are you all right? Can I help you?”
To her relief, he slowly turned his head to look at her. His face was gray, drained of color. “I’m fine,” he said brusquely.
He was older, probably sixties or seventies, and he looked really sick. “I don’t think so,” she said firmly. “I’m going to call 911.”
He reached out a pleading hand. “Please don’t. It won’t make any difference.”
She scowled at him reprovingly. “What do you mean? You’re really sick.”
“I know I’m sick. I have these moments, but I’ll be all right in a minute. Just let me rest.”
Reluctantly she agreed to do as he requested and went to ask the librarian for a glass of water. She came, carrying a paper cup of water and stood by while he sipped it, his color improving slightly. “Feeling better, Mr. Caldecott?” she asked matter-of-factly.
The name cut through Lynne. This wasn’t a day for coincidences, this was a day when everything that happened to her had special significance and it had to mean something that this man’s last name was the same as Moss’s.
She stood silently while the librarian ministered to the man with whom she was clearly familiar. “Should I call your driver to take you back to your hotel?” she asked when he began to look a little better.
He sat up, straight and tall in his chair, but Lynne saw that his hands trembled. “Not yet. Thank you, but I want to finish here.” He indicated the books and papers before him with a gesture. The librarian nodded understandingly and, thanking Lynne for having summoned her, went back to her work.
Lynne didn’t want to leave. She had to know if this man was related to Moss.
He didn’t look like Moss. Obviously he’d once been a big man, square-faced and dependable looking, but he was dwindled with illness, his eyes sucked in and rimmed with shadows, his flesh shriveled so that his clothing hung loosely on him. She recognized a dying man when she saw one.
Impulsively she stuck out her right hand and he took it, shaking hands with a surprisingly strong grip. “I’m Lynne Hallam,” she said. “Can I help you with your research?”
He looked surprised. “That’s very kind of you, young lady, but I don’t want to interrupt your work. You must be a college student.”
She nodded. “But I’m not studying now. You see I’m trying to find evidence that a friend of mine is innocent of a crime he was sent to prison for.” She didn’t have time to play games with this man, but had to be direct to the point of bluntness. “His name is Moss Caldecott and I heard the librarian call you Mr. Caldecott.”
He looked so shocked that for an instant she feared he would collapse again. He closed his eyes, swaying slightly, but still gripping her hand. “I didn’t know my boy had any friends anymore,” he said, then finally released her hand.
“I love him,” she said simply.
“But with him in prison, how did you meet?” He looked bewildered.
She didn’t try to explain. “He hardly knows me,” she said instead and that was true. The time when they would get acquainted was still in the future. “But I know he will be proven innocent. And I’ve found something today that might lead to that.”
Immediately he left other questions behind to focus on this one thing. “I have spent the last fourteen years trying to find such evidence,” he said. “And I promised my wife on her death bed that I would see him set free, but now my life is coming to an end—the doctors say six months at most—and I am growing desperate.”
She nodded. She couldn’t know, but hoped he’d been aware before his own end came that Moss would be freed.
“What I’ve found isn’t more than a start, but I have reason to believe that it will lead somewhere. When you’re feeling a little better, come over to where I’m working on the computer and I’ll show you what I found.”
“I’m fine now.” He got slowly to his feet, ignoring her protests to go over to the cubicle where she’d been working. She pulled up a chair for him and saw him seated before she refreshed the page that showed the California story about the arrest of McElhaney Thompson.
He frowned at the headlines and the photo of the man. “Why That’s Mac,” he said. “Mac Thompson.”
“You know him?” she asked, startled. This was the last thing she’d expected.
He nodded, not bothering to answer as he continued reading. She sat quietly, giving him time to take in the information. Finally he looked up, “He worked for us. Yard work and odd jobs back years ago. In fact, he worked for a lot of people in the neighborhood. We quit hiring him because Cynthia, that’s our little daughter, said he scared her. She said he was a bad man. I haven’t seen him since.”
“When was this?” she asked eagerly.
He swallowed hard. “Oh, I remember well enough. It was right before everything broke loose and the girl was murdered and Moss was arrested. Everything that happened that year is written hard on my mind.”
He closed his eyes. “Do you think it’s possible?”
She couldn’t tell him that someone who had carried out a string of murders had killed Moss’s girlfriend. She couldn’t tell him because it hadn’t been proved yet. Maybe he was the man to find the answers.
“I’ll contact my lawyer immediately,” he said. “If this leads somewhere . . .”
“I hope it will. I believe it will,” she said earnestly, touching his shoulder in a gesture of comfort.
“The process could take a while.” His face brightened with renewed color, “but I could go to Genevieve happily if I could tell her our boy was going to be freed.” He closed his eyes. “We set up a trust fund for him years ago to make it a little easier when he got out. At first we were so sure he would be released, but lately . . .” He turned to her. “Miss Hallam, I thank you for bringing me hope.”
She smiled tremendously, unable to speak.
“I am so pleased that my son has someone like you to love him.” He got to his feet and placed a fatherly kiss on the top of her head. “And now I must get going. There is so much to be done.”
She watched him march toward the exit and was barely aware that the librarian had come up to her and was watching too. “Poor man,” she said, “he’s not got much time left. They say he has cancer.”
Lynne would have liked to know more, but she realized abruptly that there was something she must tell Moss’s father. She raced after him, ran down the steps to the street. She might not get to see Moss again in this time interval. She had to sen
d him a message. She had to tell him not to drive fast.
But before she could open her mouth, the scene faded around her and she found herself standing on the front lawn in front of Maud’s ranch house. The extraordinary gifts of the day were at an end.
She would be given no chance to warn Moss of the danger ahead. The accident that had injured him so badly could not be undone.
Chapter Seventeen
Time in the past and time in the present seemed to be two different things. To Lynne it seemed she’d only been gone for a few hours, but her computer inside the house told her that it was now Sunday afternoon. With a sense of panic, she recognized that time was running out. Tomorrow was the day the hospital had scheduled to unplug life support.
Her heart felt heavy in her chest and her brain slowed so that when a voice said, “I hope you don’t mind,” and she turned to see a slim dark-haired woman looking doubtfully at her. “The limo dropped us off here and we waited outside for the longest time, but it was really hot and Betsy was thirsty and we found the door unlocked, so we came on in.”
The little girl came running in from the kitchen, a half-eaten cookie in her hand. She gave a yell and ran eagerly into Lynne’s arms as though they were old friends. “We were so worried about you,” she scolded. “I like your ranch. Can I ride a horse? I like the big black one!”
Lynne couldn’t keep from laughing as she returned the hug. “Of course I don’t mind. I’m just so glad to see you. I’m sorry I was away but it was really necessary.” She paused, knowing she could hardly explain where she’d been for the last few days. “Have you been here long?”
“Just a couple of hours. We landed at the Dallas airport. I was afraid to drive out myself because I just knew I would get lost in this wild country, so I hired someone to drive us. We got directions in a nearby, well, not very nearby, town and here we are.” She sank into a chair as though telling her story had exhausted her. Her face looked strained and pale and Lynne could guess how hard this was for her.
The Ghost and Miss Hallam: A Time Travel Romance (Lavender, Texas Series Book 1) Page 13
