Keeper of the Key

by Barbara Christopher

  Wood-smoke? She glanced toward the bay window. The setting sun streaked the blue-white clouds as they forged a slow path through the large oaks and gnarled magnolia trees that surrounded the small lake.

  Smoke. Fire!

  She felt a surge of hysteria. She couldn’t lose Berclair Manor. Not this way. If she hurried she could the contain fire until the fire department arrived. She grabbed the telephone and punched the nine, then stopped, her index finger hesitating over the one.

  No, she couldn’t call nine-one-one. What if it was a false alarm? They’d bill her for coming out, and it would cost more than she could afford. She would just have to check it out.

  Another puff swirled over the hill. She grabbed a bucket from the shed and ran in the direction of the swelling clouds and fragrant odor of wood smoke.

  When she reached the top of the hill, she came to an abrupt halt. Thank heavens she hadn’t called the fire department. It wasn’t a fire—it was Caleb. She drew in several deep, calming breaths then ambled down the slope.

  Everything glistened around her. Water droplets left by the recent storm twinkled like diamonds in the trees. Caleb sat on a stump, his forearms resting on his denim-clad thighs and his hands hanging loosely between his knees.

  He wiggled his fingers then jerked them back when the kitten slapped at them. He teased Pepper again and again, but that wasn’t what held Becci’s attention. It was the smooth muscles of his bare back rippling with each move that captivated her.

  He picked up the kitten in one hand, leaned forward and shifted the two long sticks, turning over the catfish that lay at the edge of the small campfire. The evening sun painted the smooth surface of the lake with red and orange, while the dancing flame’s softer hues flickered over Caleb’s muscled shoulders. The man, more real than she cared to think about, stared as if hypnotized into the flames and slowly caressed the kitten. The fire created a golden halo, making the thin layer of perspiration on his body shimmer and added highlights of masculine strength to the sculptured lines.

  The scene appeared mystical, like looking into a crystal ball and catching a vision of your future lover.

  Lover?

  Where had that thought come from? Certainly not from the scene playing before her. Caleb represented nothing magical, and he’d created the symbolic mist with his fire. Besides, he didn’t show any signs of being overly interested in a relationship, intimate or otherwise. He cared more about her cat than her.

  She couldn’t stop the smile from curling her lips. That wasn’t exactly true. She’d seen the desire flicker in his eyes each time she’d looked up and caught him staring at her.

  She gave herself a mental shake. Enough.

  “That’s against the law,” Becci proclaimed, pointing at the fire as she approached Caleb.

  He snapped to attention. Without answering, he set the kitten down, rolled to his feet, and grabbed his shirt and hat off the low limb of the magnolia tree where he’d hung them. He slapped his hat onto his head and shrugged into his shirt.

  Becci watched Pepper scamper off toward the house. When she faced Caleb she froze, her gaze locked on his hands as they inched up his shirt, sliding each button into place. She imagined those same callused thumbs tracing her lips, and the image sent a pleasant shiver down her spine.

  “I wasn’t expecting company,” Caleb said.

  His voice pulled her attention to his face. His eyes held no sign of desire as he scrutinized everything about her. His lips curled into a crooked line—half smile, half frown.

  She’d never met anyone like Caleb Harrison. He had the power to make her tremble without even touching her. His raven-black hair curled just above his brows as if begging her to brush it back. His midnight-blue eyes showed a strong-willed, stubborn streak. Altogether he added up to a very sexy, very masculine, hunk-of-the-month-gorgeous guy.

  “I didn’t know they’d made laws against cooking.”

  Becci followed his motions as he pointed at the neatly circled stones and branches that made up his campsite. “Not cooking. Open fires. They’re too dangerous.” And so are you.

  “Not if you know what you’re doing,” Caleb replied as he rolled a stump closer to the fire.

  Oh, yes, especially if you know what you’re doing.

  After checking the log for stability, he took his hat and fanned it over the top to dust away the loose leaves and twigs.

  “Will you join me? It’s not much, but you’re welcome to share what there is.” He motioned for her to sit down.

  Becci straddled the seat Caleb had prepared and set the bucket on the ground next to her. He waited until she’d settled before he returned to his seat.

  His blue plaid shirt gaped open at the neck, revealing a thatch of dark hair the same shade as the long lengths that curled around his collar.

  “I whittled down a fallen branch and managed to spear a couple of catfish,” he said, tipping his head toward the long pointed stick leaning against the magnolia tree’s trunk. “I would have tried catching the fish by hand in the logs around the pond, but Rebecca told me it was best not to disturb the snakes.”

  Becci cringed. The thought of Caleb reaching under the water into one of the buried logs chilled her. “Grandma told me stories about men log fishing and losing a finger to a turtle or having to have a hand amputated for lack of medical attention after a snake bite. I thought the stories were tall tales woven to keep me from playing in the mud around the lake.”

  “The stories are probably a bit exaggerated, but basically, they’re true. That’s one of the reasons I chose to make the spear.”

  “You should have used one of the rod and reels in the shed,” Becci said. “Although, after the front that just passed through I doubt you would have caught anything using them. I’m surprised you were able to catch these.”

  “Me, too,” Caleb said reaching down to rotate one of the fish. “They’re ready to eat. You will join me, won’t you?”

  She started to refuse, but Caleb was already sliding the fish off the charred limb and onto one of the old metal plates that had been stored in the shed. He leaned to one side, slid the plate toward her and repeated the process on a second one.

  “Have you done this before? Cooked by the lake?” Becci asked as she reached for her portion.

  “Yes, once or twice. Rebecca would fix a basket, and we would take our midday meal out here. We never stayed this late in the day, though.” Caleb lifted his gaze to the colorful sunset. “By now I’d have already tucked Luke into bed and been on the road back to Raleigh.” He broke off a piece of the white meat and took a bite.

  A flash of what could only be jealousy sparked in Becci. She wanted to ask him more questions about her namesake. What kind of relationship had they had? What attracted him to her? How did she, Becci, compare to Rebecca? Instead, she followed his lead and pinched off a bite of the fish. To ask him such questions would be ridiculous. There was no such thing as time travel! Yet in her heart she knew he spoke the truth. Somehow, he’d slipped forward in time. For now she’d ignore the situation and just enjoy the food.

  The moment the morsel touched her lips she closed her eyes and enjoyed the rich smoked flavor. “This is absolutely the best fish I’ve ever tasted.”

  “Thanks to Lilly,” Caleb admitted. “I asked her if she had any spices to liven up my dinner, and she gave me this,” he said holding up a small seasoning bottle. “And a lemon.”

  “Well, this is fantastic.”

  “Thanks,” he said again, this time with more emphasis.

  Caleb hadn’t thought her approval would mean so much to him, but it did. Except for the gentle caress he’d woken up to after his arrival and the brief moment in the hall, she’d wavered between sharp-tongued and distantly polite. Now, she was offering kindness and conversation, and he was oddly hungry for both.

&n
bsp; “Tell me about this nursery you’re planning.” Caleb broke off another bite and put it in his mouth, never taking his eyes off her. He heard the excitement in her voice as she talked about the new mothers who had to work but couldn’t find daycare, and of how she loved children.

  “So those are the plans. Turn the downstairs into the nursery, with the exception of Aunt Lilly’s bedroom. When Aunt Lilly first came up with the plan to turn the house into a nursery we were going to use her room as a clinic for the children that might get sick during the day. But she broke her hip last year, and it’s too hard for her to go up and down the stairs.”

  “I’m sorry to hear about Miss Lilly’s injury.” Caleb looked at his plate, surprised to find only bones remained. “Things have changed so much around here. You even closed the well, and I haven’t made it over to the spring for water.” Caleb shrugged. “I’ve already drank what water Miss Lilly gave me, so I can’t offer you anything to wash the fish down.”

  “I didn’t close the well, the city did, and we don’t go to the spring for water. It’s piped to the house through the city’s water system. You could have gotten it from the spigot beside the back door.”

  “Oh. Nobody told me. How would I go about learning the everyday things? Are there books? I know about switches that make dark rooms light, and that the torch I carried around the house is called a flashlight, but what are a rod and reel and a two-wheeler? There are hundreds of other things you’ve mentioned that don’t make sense to me. Will you teach me about these things?”

  “Come off it, Caleb. Enough is enough. The thought of you being from the past is ridiculous, and I’m not going to listen to another word,” Becci snapped, bounding angrily off the stump. She tossed the metal plate next to the fire, spun away and hurried up the hill. She’d heard all she wanted to hear about him being from another lifetime. The thought tied her in knots.

  One moment she believed him and the next logic took over. It was all a pack of lies. It had to be. If she believed him she was as crazy as he was. Demented. Deranged.

  “Miss Berclair, please,” Caleb called after her. She didn’t turn around, and he sighed heavily.

  He had no right to ask her to teach him about things that would be useless when he returned to Rebecca. And once he removed the medallion from the dresser and rounded up Jacobs, they would go back to Raleigh.

  They didn’t have a choice. He had to save Rebecca, and Luke needed him.

  Seven

  BECCI GLANCED AT her aunt as the back door cracked against the frame. She pounded her fists against her thigh, one for every number as she counted slowly to ten. Then she repeated the sequence. Her nerves were shot. Why had Caleb said please when he asked to learn about the present? She wanted to ignore the sincerity in his voice, but he’d looked so vulnerable when he’d asked for her help.

  “Becci, dear, you’re going to crack the windows with that temper of yours. What’s the matter now?” Lilly tugged her housecoat closer around her and retied the belt before turning on the stove to heat the milk for their nightly cup of chocolate. They both enjoyed this one and only extravagance they had left from better times. It gave them a chance to go over the day’s events and discuss their financial status.

  “Nothing. Everything.” Becci pressed her fingertips to her temples and closed her eyes. She knew it was childish, but she said, “That man is stealing my cat, and why did you hire someone who belongs in a straitjacket?”

  “I didn’t hire him. I thought you did. And Pepper’s a stray, so technically he’s not yours.”

  Becci dropped into one of the kitchen chairs and gently massaged the tight muscles at her nape. “Stop kidding around. You told me you’d take care of everything, and you did.” She glanced at Lilly and waited for her affirmation.

  “Everything?”

  Becci frowned at her aunt.

  Lilly shrugged as if she still didn’t know what Becci meant.

  “The workers. Caleb,” Becci said in exasperation.

  “Oh, my. If you didn’t hire him, and I didn’t hire him . . . Do you think Caleb Harrison might have really come from the past?”

  Becci tossed her braid over her shoulder and tipped her chair onto its back legs. Keeping one toe on the floor, she rocked back and forth. There had to be a logical answer. “Aunt Lilly, you told me you took care of the movers,” Becci said patiently. “If Caleb isn’t one of them, what happened to the ones you did hire?”

  Lilly stirred the special cocoa paste she’d made into the milk and switched off the burner. “Right after Caleb collapsed, the dispatcher called to apologize for his men not getting here. They had a wreck on the way over, but thankfully no one was injured. He wanted to reschedule. I told them you’d hired someone else.”

  “But I didn’t.” The chair came down with a loud bang, and Becci lifted her gaze to stare at her aunt. Could he really be the Caleb Harrison? She told herself he wasn’t, and that her aunt and he were pulling some kind of hoax, probably hoping it would stop her from selling the house. But even as she told herself that, she couldn’t help playing what if. “If he’s for real, does this mean the stories about the gold are real, too?”

  “It’s not gold, it’s . . . .”

  “I know, orichalc. Do you think it’s still valuable? If it’s real, of course.”

  “Of course it’s real, Becci.”

  “Well, let’s suppose for a moment that it is real. You read all the journals. Isn’t there a hint about where it might be hidden?”

  Lilly pulled a tissue from the pocket of her housecoat, took off her glasses and began cleaning them thoughtfully. “Well, I only scanned the ones written by Eli. They were too technical for me. Obadiah’s, Saul’s and Rebecca’s were the best. Christina’s dealt mostly with the constant jealousy she had for Rebecca. Saul wrote about what to do for time-travelers. That’s where I learned about the remedy and the orichalc. The information on Caleb came from Rebecca’s journal. Of course the information about Rebecca’s death was in Obadiah’s and Christina’s books.”

  Lilly’s voice drifted into a thoughtful murmur as if she were speaking to herself. “Saul didn’t say anything about how people got from one era to the next. He should have. That’s an important fact, don’t you think? Maybe I just missed it. Oh, well, I guess it will be just as good if you find out instead of me.”

  Becci waited for her aunt to run down. Or come back to what they’d been discussing. She might not do either if she got wound up in a subject that excited her.

  Lilly glanced toward the bay window and shook her head. “Becci, dear, I don’t think Caleb would intentionally steal the kitten. He seems like such a nice man. Animals sense that sort of thing. The journals could be wrong, but if he is that Caleb Harrison, we’ll need to be very careful. Do you think he’ll harm Pepper?”

  Becci sighed. “I don’t think Pepper’s in danger. Nor are we. Caleb is no killer. I’d bet my life on it.”

  That was exactly what she’d done, she realized with a start.

  “I certainly hope you’re right,” Lilly said as she slipped on her glasses and took two mugs out of the cabinet. “We don’t want a murderer hanging around the manor.” She poured the cocoa into the mugs and set one on the table beside the journals. Wrapping her hands around the other, she leaned back against the counter. “I think I’ll drink my chocolate in my room and leave you to your reading.”

  Becci tapped the stack of books she’d left on the table when she’d seen the smoke. “If there’s anything about any precious metals in one of these books, I’ll find it.” She lifted the mug and, with a slight nod, raised it to her lips. “Thanks for the chocolate.”

  “You’re welcome, dear.”

  Becci stood up and gave her aunt a kiss on the cheek. Aunt Lilly might jump from subject to subject during a single conversation, and at times her thought processes could confuse eve
n the most astute listener, but Becci loved her dearly. She’d always been there for her, especially after her parents’ deaths. For that she would be eternally grateful.

  Becci gathered up the journals and followed Lilly out of the kitchen. She still didn’t believe there was gold—or orichalc—in the house, but maybe reading the journals would get her mind off the feelings Caleb evoked in her. Feelings she shouldn’t be having toward a stranger. After all, she was engaged.

  Becci flipped on the light in the family room. After laying the books on the end table, she snuggled into one corner of the overstuffed couch. Once settled, she balanced the mug on her stomach and closed her eyes.

  Steam rose from the cup, bringing the sweet aroma of chocolate. Nothing erased Caleb’s sexy voice from her memory. It drifted to her in the misty steam from her cocoa along with the image of his sun-drenched frame leaning forward, his arms resting on his jean-clad thighs as he teased her cat. Even the thought of him made her heart race.

  With a sigh, Becci set the mug on the end table. She adjusted the light and picked up the first book. If Caleb was from the past, how had he gotten here? And why had he come? Maybe the answers would be somewhere among these stained, yellowed pages.

  Carefully, Becci ran her hand over the front cover and slowly flipped open the book.

  February 20, 1835

  They buried Eli yesterday. As I knew would happen, Obadiah and my sister arrived too late to see him one last time. At least they came swiftly enough to see him laid to rest. They didn’t stay long. After lunch they hurried to Sanderlin’s Bluff to catch a barge heading for Memphis. They didn’t want to miss the steamer that would take them to St. Louis.

  Obadiah told Saul to sell the house. He wants no part in running Berclair Manor. He complained that he needed the money as soon as possible to pay off his debts. Obadiah claims that as the oldest son, it is all his.