Somewhere in Time (The Crosse Harbor Time Travel Trilogy)

by Barbara Bretton

  The General's hand moved toward the hilt of his sword.

  Behind him, he heard Emilie scream.

  Sorry, George. This is gonna hurt me more than it hurts you.

  And with that thought, Zane Grey Rutledge threw himself headlong into history.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Rebekah stood in the doorway, watching as Emilie collected the last of her things from the second floor bedroom that had been their home. "Are you feeling better?"

  "I'm fine," Emilie said with a smile. "Truly."

  "The nausea?"

  "Gone," said Emilie. "The lemon crackers did the trick." She could no longer deny the symptoms. She had tried to attribute the dizziness and nausea and skipped period to everything but the truth: she was pregnant with Zane's baby, this miracle child conceived in the future on that moonlit when she'd thrown caution to the winds and followed her heart.

  "'Tis a good sign. Misery now means a healthy babe when your time comes."

  "From your mouth to God's ear."

  Rebekah looked at her curiously. "I have not heard that expression before."

  Emilie folded Zane's black shirt and added it to the small pile of clothing. "It's a very popular expression in New York."

  "So you say. Still there is something about you and your husband that sets you apart."

  "Our accents?" asked Emilie.

  "How I wish I could pinpoint it with precision. I have never known a friend such as you."

  Emilie gave the other woman an impulsive hug. "I'm going to miss you, Rebekah. Especially now."

  Rebekah nodded, her brown eyes wet with tears. "I am afraid I do not know how I will manage without your friendship."

  "The friendship will not end," said Emilie, meaning it. "Only the proximity."

  They heard the sound of Zane's footsteps on the staircase.

  "Not a word about the baby," Emilie warned.

  "You still have not told him?"

  Emilie shook her head. "He has had enough to think of this week."

  Zane had re-broken his arm during his heroic rescue of General Washington. Between that and all of the excitement the rescue generated, there had been little time to break news of such a delicate nature. As soon as they were settled in their new home near Philadelphia, she would tell him.

  It wasn't that she was nervous about telling him. Not really. Just because they hadn't gotten around to talking about children didn't mean he didn't want any. Sure, during their first marriage he'd made it clear that reproduction was near the bottom of his list. But that was a long time ago--and this was a different Zane.

  As if on cue, Zane appeared in the doorway. "It's time, Emilie. We have a long trip ahead of us."

  As always, the sight of him tugged at her heartstrings. "Is the wagon loaded?"

  Zane nodded then turned to Rebekah, a stern look on his handsome face. "You've given us enough food to last a year."

  "'Twas the General's orders," Rebekah said with a saucy grin.

  "How will you feed your family?"

  "His Excellency said that will no longer be a problem for us."

  "You must be so proud of Josiah," Emilie said. "Working behind British lines the way he has been doing must take a great deal of courage."

  For the past three months Josiah Blakelee had been collecting valuable information for the Patriots spy ring that General Washington devoutly prayed would lead them to their first decisive victory of the war.

  It was all Emilie could do to keep from telling them that the victory they so desired was in sight. In just a few short months, on a cold winter's day in January, the Battle of Princeton would be fought and won, setting the Continental Army on the road to glory.

  Zane turned to Emilie. "I'll meet you downstairs."

  Emilie's eyes filled with tears. "Will we see each other again?" she asked Rebekah. "Now that Zane and I are both part of the spy ring--"

  "Life is filled with surprises," Rebekah said. "That is one thing that eighteen years of marriage to Josiah Blakelee have taught me."

  Emilie glanced about the room, suppressing a smile as her gaze fell upon the copper tub. "It appears that I have everything."

  "You came with so little," Rebekah said. "I have often wondered how it was you and your husband came upon Andrew."

  Emilie sighed. "It seems a lifetime ago, Rebekah. So much has happened since." She gathered up the satchel of clothing from the bed.

  "Do you have the letter of protection from General Washington?" Rebekah asked.

  Emilie patted the pocket of her gown. "The most valuable item in our possession." She had placed it in the embroidered purse, along with the items she'd retrieved from their hiding place near the barn. She could just imagine the uproar if Rebekah had discovered money with the General's picture on it.

  Washington's gratitude had been sincere and overwhelming in its generosity. In addition to the letter granting them safe passage, he had procured for them a wagon and horse, the 18th century equivalent of a BMW and free gasoline for life. They had been asked to join the Philadelphia branch of the spy ring where Zane's powers of observation and Emilie's skills with a needle and floss would be put to their best use.

  What Washington had done, in effect, was to hand them their future--the one thing they'd been unable to do for themselves. And now, with their baby growing beneath her heart, that future took on new importance.

  #

  Zane waited near the wagon with Rebekah's children. Even Charity and Timothy, home from their wedding trip to a cousin's house in Delaware, had returned to say goodbye. Emilie was deeply touched and she hugged the two young people warmly. The thought that her life would be forever intertwined with the lives of these good people made her feel part of that invisible chain that linked her still to the world she'd left behind.

  "The post runs well between Philadelphia and Princeton," said Rebekah. "You must write and tell me how you fare in your new home."

  "No sister has ever been more kind," said Emilie as the two women hugged one last time. "We'll never forget you--not any of you."

  Isaac, looking terribly adult, offered his hand which Zane shook with great solemnity. Emilie detected a certain mistiness in Zane's eyes which only endeared him to her even more.

  Finally they could delay no longer. Emilie took her seat next to Zane on the wagon as he took the reins in his left hand.

  "Do you know how to drive this thing?" she whispered.

  "How hard can it be? The horse does all the work."

  "Godspeed!" cried Rebekah and her children as Zane urged the horse forward.

  Emilie sniffled loudly for the first hour as they

  skirted the town of Princeton and headed south.

  "We'll see them again," Zane said. "Our paths are bound to cross."

  "How can you be sure?" she asked, her green eyes brimming with tears. "It's not like we can jump in the car and zip over for coffee."

  He started to laugh. "What's that I hear? The sound of a woman longing for modern conveniences?"

  "Don't make fun of me," she said, glaring over at him. "I miss Rebekah."

  "You haven't been gone long enough to miss anybody."

  "I don't care. I miss her and that's that."

  Zane shot her a quizzical look. Apparently her familiar redhead's temperament had a few variations he'd yet to discover. He'd seen Emilie furious, he'd seen her jealous, he'd seen her indifferent. But the one way he'd never seen her was weepy.

  Clearly he still had a lot to learn about the woman he loved.

  #

  Andrew stayed on Long Island only long enough to visit his late wife's mother then he headed back toward New Jersey.

  He had envisioned himself returning as the hero Emilie had claimed he would be. Instead, he was returning once again in anonymity. He had reached Long Island only to discover that George Washington had left suddenly for New Jersey, leaving Andrew feeling the fool as he spoke of assassination plots and daring rescues.

  The men had looked at him as if
he were crazy.

  But then maybe he was.

  The torch had been passed. Even he could see it. There were new men to take his place. Younger men. Stronger men. Men with brains and vision who could do things Andrew hadn't dreamed. Rutledge, for one. Even Emilie had more fire in her belly for independence than he had today.

  Lately he'd found it difficult to concentrate on the matters at hand when his mind was drawn again and again to the world that Emilie had described to him.

  He could imagine the riotous cacophony of noise on a city street. When he closed his eyes he conjured up a gigantic silver bird that streaked through the sky like a shooting star. Nothing was more real to him than those images Emilie and Rutledge had painted for him.

  He had made up his mind that when he saw them again at the Blakelee house, he would tell them that he wanted to see their world. At least, that was, if they ever figured out a way to return.

  Of course that didn't seem very likely, but then neither did anything to do with the whole amazing enterprise.

  So why he had bypassed Princeton and continued southeast until he reached the lighthouse puzzled him. Strange, but the need to see the lighthouse again had been too strong for him to resist. Like some unrelenting call of nature, he'd found himself going miles out of his way just so he could row across the harbor and spend the night listening to the waves crashing against the shore.

  Just one night, he thought as he gazed out at the harbor. Just one night then he'd move on.

  #

  After a few more miles of silence, Emilie leaned over and placed her hand on Zane's leg.

  "Sorry I've been so disagreeable."

  "I'd rather have you cranky than crying." He met her eyes. "You'll see Rebekah again. I promise you."

  That brought about another few minutes of sniffling.

  "You're not acting like yourself," he observed.

  "Yes, I am." Her tone of voice brooked no discussion. They approached a fork in the road and he guided the horse to the path on the right.

  "I think you're making a mistake," Emilie said.

  He gritted his teeth. Why hadn't someone told him this was going to be the ride from hell? "The directions said to bear right."

  "I think you're wrong."

  "I'm the one with the photographic memory."

  "And the terrible sense of direction."

  Zane bristled. "I seem to recall I'm the one who found that cave again."

  "That only proves you can find places the second time."

  After a few more miles even Zane had to admit things were looking a little bleak. He was supposed to be watching for an ancient weeping willow tree adjacent to an abandoned well. Unfortunately there was nothing even remotely like that on the horizon.

  They'd been on the road for hours. They were tired, hungry, and their butts were sore from bumping around on the wooden bench.

  "I thought we were supposed to stay at an inn tonight," said Emilie.

  "We are," he said, teeth still clenched.

  "So where is it?"

  "We're getting there."

  "I don't see it."

  "If you tell me to pull into a gas station and ask for directions, I'll--"

  He never finished the sentence. He and Emilie took one look at each other and their anger dissolved into the kind of laughter that helped many a marriage over the rough spots.

  "We're gonna be okay," he said, ruffling her hair in an affectionate gesture.

  "I know," she said. But even as she said the words, she felt a pang of guilt. This was the man she loved, the man who loved her. If they were going to build a life together, he should know about the tiny life growing inside her. Waiting until they reached Philadelphia suddenly seemed ridiculous. "Zane," she began slowly, "there's something I have to tell you."

  No response.

  "Zane?"

  She followed his line of vision. "What is it?" she asked, straining to see over the trees.

  "Over there." He directed her to the right. "Do you see it?"

  She felt lightheaded, chilled as if by a sudden gust of icy wind. "The lighthouse." They had to be right in the middle of latter-day Crosse Harbor.

  "How the hell did I screw up like this?" he asked, jumping down from the wagon. "Only a moron could mistake east for west."

  "I don't think it was a mistake."

  He looked up at her. "What was that?"

  She couldn't control her trembling. "Let's go," she said, her voice thin. "Let's get out of here."

  "What's the matter, Em? This is as good a place as any to spend the night."

  A sense of dread gripped her and would not be denied. "This could be dangerous."

  He made a face. "No one expects us to be here. If anyone sees us, we're just another couple."

  But they weren't just another couple. They were a couple from the 20th century.

  "Come on," he said. "Let's take a look around. We didn't have time to check it out when McVie found us."

  She wanted to grab the reins and speed away as fast as she could, but she couldn't do it. Not without Zane. Reluctantly she allowed him to help her from the wagon.

  "This is old hat," she said as they strolled toward the water. "There are so many new things to explore. Why should we bother with re-runs?"

  A rowboat bobbed at the water's edge, loosely tied to a post. If you asked Emilie, it was all too convenient.

  She tugged at Zane's sleeve. "Have you seen enough?"

  He headed toward the boat. "Let's row over to the lighthouse."

  "We can't do that, Zane. You have a broken arm."

  "So what? I'll use the left oar, and you'll use the right."

  "I don't want to row across to the lighthouse."

  "Then wait here."

  "Why are you so interested in checking out the lighthouse? You already know what it looks like."

  He stopped, considering her words. "I don't know why I'm so interested," he said slowly. "I feel--I feel drawn to it somehow."

  "I don't like this," she said. "I'm getting really bad feelings about this whole thing."

  Nothing she could say, however, was enough to dissuade him. She climbed into the rowboat next to him.

  "Let's get it over with quickly," she said, manning her oar. The wind was picking up. Unless he intended to sleep in the wagon, they still had to find a place to spend the night.

  They reached the island in record time. Zane helped her from the rowboat and she tied it to the dock.

  "Look," she said, pointing to her left. "Another boat. Do you think they're manning the lighthouse again?"

  "No," said a familiar voice from behind them. "We're all alone here."

  Both Zane and Emilie spun around to see Andrew McVie looking at them.

  "Andrew!" she exclaimed. "What on earth--?"

  "I was on my way to the Blakelees," he said.

  Zane met his gaze. "We were on our way to Philadelphia."

  Neither man commented on the obvious, that they had both gone considerably out of their way to get there."We look like a local meeting of the New Jersey spy ring," Emilie observed, struggling to sound calm and unconcerned. "Perhaps we shouldn't be seen like this. It would only--"

  She stopped. Both men were looking off toward the horizon. She followed their line of vision. Spirals of icy grey cloud cover moved swiftly toward them. She gripped Zane's arm. "I know that cloud cover," she said urgently. "That's how it looked the day it happened."

  "Damn it," said Zane. "I knew I should've tried to put together a balloon. Anything that would give us a chance to--"

  "Look over there!!" Andrew broke in. "Down on the beach."

  "That's it!" Zane yelled over the roar of the wind. "The balloon!"

  Emilie knew without looking that the balloon and the gondola were in perfect shape.

  "This is our chance, Em!" Zane grabbed her by the waist and swung her around. "We've done whatever it was we were supposed to do. Our job is done and we can go home."

  "It's an illusion," Emilie s
aid, grasping at straws. "This isn't really happening."

  Zane started toward the balloon with a reluctant Emilie close behind. "I was beginning to think it wasn't going to happen. This is a miracle, Em!"

  No, she thought. The miracle was that she'd ever thought they had a chance.

  That icy, silver-grey cloud cover blanketed the entire island. The clouds were so low they obscured the top of the crimson hot-air balloon.

  "Come on, Em. We don't have much time."

  "I--I can't go."

  He stared at her as if she were a stranger. "We're not going to get any second chances."

  "It might be a trick. What if something happens?"

  "Then at least we'll know we gave it a shot."

  She shook her head. "I can't do it."

  "Sure you can."

  She stepped back. "Not this time." Earlier she had vowed she would follow Zane to the ends of the earth and beyond but now . . . now there was another life to protect. She couldn't risk the safety of their unborn child. Her heart ached with pain. She knew if she told him about the baby he would let that balloon fly off without him but she wanted more than that for him. She wanted him to have the life he needed in the world he knew.

  "I love you," she said softly, "but I just can't do this."

  He felt as if he were trapped in the middle of a nightmare with no beginning and no end. She couldn't be saying no.

  "You can't stay here, Emilie," he said, as the clock ticked away the moments. "We belong together."

  "Go," she said, gesturing toward the balloon. "Don't lose your chance at happiness because of me."

  This way of life was harsh. Without his crutches of money and power, Zane Grey Rutledge was just another man. He wasn't sure he could make it in this strange world.

  "The balloon is beginning to rise," Andrew shouted. "It's now or never!"

  "What is it, Em?" Zane asked her. "Are you coming or aren't you?"

  "I can't, Zane," she whispered brokenly. "Oh God, how I wish I could...."

  Tossing him her embroidered purse with the money and credit cards, she ran toward the lighthouse and she didn't look back.

  You did the right thing, she thought as she threw herself down across the bed and cried as if her heart would break. You let him make his choice without telling him about the baby. He had the right to return to the world he knew and loved same as she had the right to opt in favor of their child. He was a man of his time who --