Saul will abide by his father’s wishes and divide the income equally. If Obadiah has his way, his fancy attorney will have us out on the streets within the year.
Obadiah’s hatred for Saul is well known. Although Eli declared his love for both his sons, he chose Saul and I to bear the penalty of Obadiah’s greed. How do we rectify your crime, Obadiah? How? Oh, Eli, how could you do this to us? Saul said this was your way of showing that you trust our judgment. How I wish I’d never heard of the Atlantean coin. I do not blame you, Eli. You were a father to me. You accepted me as your own, and my heart feels the pain of losing you.
The words blurred. Becci struggled to keep the memories at bay. Memories that reminded her that Aunt Lilly represented the bulk of her family. And since Michael didn’t want children, there would be no heir to the Berclair legacy, a legacy that covered more than one hundred and seventy years.
Becci ruffled the corner of the book. The diamond solitaire on her finger caught the light and flashed colored fragments over the pages. The day Michael showed up at her door reminded Becci of the day Caleb arrived. She didn’t know why. Maybe because they were both strangers.
Michael had come by looking for a friend, but he had the wrong address. Before he walked away, he gave her his business card and asked if he might call on her socially. They started dating, and within a month he’d become her financial advisor. His wizardry had given her hope for a brighter future, although she’d yet to see any improvement. Michael kept telling her that these things took time. Just like making a commitment.
They’d only dated six months when he asked her to marry him. It had taken her a month to accept. Their relationship wasn’t one of passion. At least not the kind found in the romance novels she read. Passion like that didn’t really exist.
What about Caleb? An inner voice taunted. You feel his passion, and you’ve never even kissed him.
Becci dismissed the thought. Caleb had no place in her life. Michael did. Michael gave her hope, but not for Berclair Manor or her nursery. She wanted the happiness that had existed in the past to return to this house. Besides, Caleb was either nuts or from the past. Neither option bode well for a future.
“Everything I’ve read is so filled with despair, Mary Rebecca. Yet, you never lost faith, did you? You had happiness in your life, even if it didn’t last. Were you the last to find true love?” Becci shut the journal and tossed it on top of the others. The books shifted, sending one flying off the table.
Becci leaned down to pick it up. Her hand hovered over the dim, smeared ink date on the cover—May 1835-June 1836
Curious, she picked up the book and opened it.
May 10, 1835,
Even though my last journal still has space, I’m starting a new one. Saul and I saw someone today. His lips turned up in a shy smile when he met us. Saul and I knew we’d met a man that shared our kinship. He arrived this morning and attended our small prayer meeting at the General Store.
Mr. Harrison stared at the medallion. When he greeted us, his first act was to examine the necklace. He could touch it. And his gaze didn’t contain the diffidence others had shown, but held a reverence the books say is due the amulet. Saul heard his thoughts. Yes, Caleb Harrison is indeed an Atlantean.
With a trembling hand Becci skimmed the rest of the page. Rebecca closed with a small paragraph about the weather and signed it as she had the others with just her initials M.R.B. Becci turned the page.
May 11, 1835,
I visited the General Store today and overheard several of the men discussing Caleb Harrison’s situation. He’s a carpenter in need of work and lodging. I must inform Saul. We can offer him both. He can help Saul get the nursery built before the baby comes.
Becci read down the page. Below this section were several dates, each containing a brief description of the weather and comments on her pregnancy. All the passages ended with the simple phrase. “Nothing new on Mr. Harrison today.” Her descriptions of the weather were more flowery, and Becci sensed the anticipation her namesake must have felt about becoming a mother.
May 17, 1835,
During the church services today, I caught Mr. Harrison staring. Each time he nodded and smiled the smile that is uniquely his. After the service, Brother Robert introduced Mr. Harrison to the gathering. He informed us that an order of wood suitable for making furniture should arrive on the next riverboat. Mr. Harrison is taking special requests for his work. Saul and Caleb are friends now, and he accepted our offer. Soon the baby’s nursery will be finished.
May 21, 1835,
I met with Mr. Harrison today. Saul is sick and wanted me to ask Caleb if he might move into the lean-to down by the lake. As we spoke, I told him about the few trinkets missing from my cupboard. It seems I wasn’t the only one confiding to him. We’d never had a problem before. Although he’s the only stranger in town, it can’t be him. The thefts started at least a fortnight prior to Caleb’s arrival. The rumors are surfacing anyway. People are suggesting that he has an accomplice. I don’t believe them. Caleb is a good man. He suggested each piece of furniture he makes should have a secret compartment. He assures me this will be easy to do. I must hide our valuables and the amulet from the thief. Although I don’t care about their value, they are my child’s future. I’m not one that believes in fate, but I know there is a reason for Caleb Harrison’s arrival. Saul believes he is the new keeper. If he is, he will soon learn that the medallion Saul wears belongs to him. Obadiah’s debt will be paid, and we can live our lives as they were meant to be. I pray for Saul’s rapid recovery. There is so little time left to raise the room.
Becci smiled and laid the book on top of the stack. How had the stranger staying in her shed learned enough about Caleb Harrison to impersonate him? And it had to be an impersonation. It was impossible that he’d come from the past. To believe anything else was crazy.
Maybe he’d read the books and was pulling a scam. But why? Was he casing the house, hoping to find the treasures Rebecca spoke about?
Becci traced the smudged ink. “I’ll prove you’re lying, Caleb Harrison, if it takes a month,” Becci promised.
Suddenly the journal she’d been reading fell off the stack and hit the floor, as if someone had slammed it down. Becci jerked her hand back, her eyes locked on the book.
“What was that all about?” Lilly set her empty mug on the end table.
“Huh?” What had caused the journal to fall to the floor? She hadn’t pushed it. She’d barely rested her fingers against the stained leather.
Lilly picked up the book, laid it back on top of the stack, and reached for her cup. “Why did you throw it down?”
“I didn’t. It . . . slid off the stack.”
Becci tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear and shook her head. She didn’t believe in ghosts or books that moved on their own. She just hadn’t realized she’d shoved it hard enough to push it off the stack.
“It’s time to go to bed,” Becci said. She placed the books in the storage box, making sure they were in order with the 1835-1836 volume on the bottom.
She wanted to read them in order, yet the journal on Caleb lured her away from her plan. “The next time I read,” Becci vowed, “I’ll start with the journal written in 1830.”
She lugged the heavy box upstairs. Until she found the time to read them, she would keep the books close by. No one would get the chance to gain more information without her knowing.
CALEB HELD HIS plate in both hands and tried to focus his attention on nature’s music. Frogs and crickets began their nightly chorus, extolling a lively and, usually, tranquilizing serenade. He’d gone to sleep to the soothing songs for years. Tonight the sounds only heightened the anxiety churning in his stomach. With an exasperated sigh, Caleb tossed his plate on top of Becci’s, grabbed the bucket she’d left, and made his way to the water’s edge.
&
nbsp; “Why couldn’t your namesake have been as caring and sensitive as you, Rebecca?” Caleb addressed his question to the stars. “I think I’m losing my mind, but I’ve got to talk to someone. Over the past year, you’ve always been there for me.”
Could Rebecca hear him? Would he regain consciousness in the guest bedroom, recovering from a fall? Or wake up from a deep sleep in his own bed, having dreamed this nightmare? But what if this was real? What if he was stuck in this time?
Caleb massaged the muscles at his neck. This must really be getting to him. He couldn’t be in the future. It was impossible to travel through time. Wasn’t it? He set the bucket beside a small oak tree and scooped up a handful of acorns. He had to think. Leaning against the tree trunk he tossed the small nuts into the water.
“What am I going to do? I figured that when the right time comes along, I’ll walk through that doorway and be back where I came from. I must go back for Luke’s sake.” His promise to raise Luke demanded that he find the way back. If he didn’t, Obadiah would end up stealing everything from Luke, and the boy would end up as impoverished as he’d once been. Caleb would never be able to live with himself if that happened.
The last acorn joined the others in the water. He dusted his hands and bent to pick up the bucket. Then he caught the trunk of one of the small oaks and leaned out over the water to fill the bucket. Swinging to the side, he set the bucket down, regained his balance and stared up at the last rays of the setting sun.
Tomorrow he would get the medallion out of the dresser. It had to still be hidden in there. How else could he have heard Becci’s and then Mr. Latham’s thoughts when he touched the dresser at the same time they did?
His breath caught in his throat. After a hundred and sixty years of being hidden, would the medallion’s powers be strong enough to return him to Rebecca and Luke? How could he find out?
He didn’t dare enter Becci’s room without being invited. A gentleman didn’t do that unless the woman in question spent her evenings entertaining the gents of the area.
But he knew he Becci wouldn’t invite him in, and he couldn’t tell her why he needed to go into her bedroom. She might take the medallion, and he’d never get back to Luke and Rebecca. He would have to figure out a way to get into her room without her knowing it. Surely she had a few indoor chores for him to do. He didn’t like sneaking about, but he didn’t have a choice. He’d also have to find Jacobs, but he didn’t figure that would be too hard. All he’d have to do is look for the nearest saloon.
With renewed vigor Caleb dumped another bucket of water on the fire and spread the ashes. He repeated each move again to make sure the fire was dead. Then he returned to his place under the oak tree.
Caleb stretched, then leaned against the tree trunk and watched the sun drop below the horizon. He’d always enjoyed the way the water reflected the beautiful sunsets. At least that much hadn’t changed.
With a weary sigh, he pushed himself up and headed for the shed. If he planned on sleeping there, he had to straighten up some of the clutter.
A few minutes later, he flipped the switch that flooded the shed with glorious light. Sleepless nights would no longer be a problem. He shook his head. The whole room gleamed as if the noonday sun shown inside.
Caleb grabbed a scrap of canvas off the floor and scrubbed some of the gritty dust off the lettering on several of the boxes. When he was done his heart pounded against his ribs. Most of the boxes held books. Books were the best teachers. He would start with them to learn about this time.
As he opened a box, he recalled that when he was six Sister Teresa told him he needed to read if he planned on leaving the orphanage some day. She loaned him a Bible and several other books. At that moment his whole life changed.
He returned the books to the Sister the day Farmer Boyd took him out of the orphanage. Sister Teresa wrote in the Bible and gave it to him as a gift. He’d left it under the wagon seat when he passed through time, and he felt a sense of loss. Maybe he would find a Bible stored in one of the boxes. One by one he went through them.
“It can’t be,” he whispered when he finally found a bible. He flipped the front cover open to the first page and traced the faded inscription. James Caleb Harrison. It was his bible.
He stripped off his clothes, brushed the day’s grime off and moved the cot under the window so he could see the stars. He pulled a thin sheet over his naked body and stared up at the sky with his Bible clutched to his chest. He fought the emotions churning inside him. He’d managed to keep his journal with him as he traveled through time, and he’d found his Bible. But he’d lost so much.
He’d lost Luke.
If Rebecca had agreed to his plan, the boy would have been his son. Would he ever hold the boy again? He didn’t know, and only time would give him an answer. He closed his eyes, covered them with his forearm and slipped into a restless sleep.
CALEB ROLLED OFF the cot instantly alert. Something had woken him, but what?
A light tapping sounded, followed by Lilly’s frail voice. “Mr. Harrison, are you decent?”
“No, ma’am. Give me a minute.” Caleb grabbed his trousers and hurriedly pulled them on, then shrugged into his shirt before he opened the door.
“Good morning. I’m sorry if I woke you,” Lilly said. “I’ve made you some biscuits and sausage for breakfast, and I thought you might prefer them hot. And here’s a thermos of coffee, too.” Lilly twisted off the top on a strange looking cylinder, poured the coffee into a cup and handed it to him, then she resealed the “thermos.” Another word to remember.
Thanks for the breakfast and the coffee, too, ma’am,” Caleb said. Last night he’d wondered what he would do for his next meal. He’d planned on catching another fish, but this was definitely a better breakfast.
“Becci has to work today, but she left a list of things for you to do.”
Caleb scanned the list Lilly handed him. Becci’s penmanship was very different from the writing of his time, but he was able to read it. Every job Becci wanted done was outside.
He felt a wave of frustration. He’d promised to help, but he’d thought the jobs would be inside, and he would have a chance to check the dresser for the medallion. He knew it was there. He just wanted to verify it before he dragged Jacobs into the house for the trip back to their time.
That wouldn’t happen today and probably not tomorrow, if this list indicated the amount of work Becci planned to pile on him every day.
“Thanks for the breakfast, Miss Lilly. I think I’ll eat these down by the pond.” He grabbed his hat off the stack of boxes by the door, took the plate in one hand, the cup in the other and followed Lilly outside.
“I’ll let you work at your own pace and call you to the house when lunch is ready,” Lilly said.
Caleb waited until she went inside then headed back to the clearing where he’d taken his evening meal. He had just sat down when a movement on the far side of the pond caught his attention. He stood to get a better look. William Jacobs was sneaking through the bushes. Caleb moved to the top of the hill and watched as Jacobs staggered into the shed. At least now he knew where the drunk was and, if he were as drunk as he looked, he would sleep most of the day.
CALEB OPENED THE shed door and cringed. The whole room reeked of Jacobs, but the man was nowhere in sight. He cursed both the man’s disappearance and the smell.
He raked his fingers through his hair. If he planned to sleep in the shed it would need airing out. He propped open the door and raised the window so the breeze flowed through the room. Then he grabbed his Bible and sat outside under the oak tree, using the last of the day’s light to read by.
He hadn’t seen Becci all day. He’d returned from the other side of the pond to find a covered plate sitting on a rickety old chair that someone had placed beside the shed door. After he ate, he’d taken the plate back to the hou
se, hoping to see Becci, but Lilly said she had already gone upstairs for the night.
BECCI WOKE TO THE sound of glass shattering. “Who’s there?” she yelled as she snatched her robe off the foot of her bed. She yanked it on and quickly tied the sash. Her heart pounded so hard she knew the burglar could probably hear it all the way downstairs.
Aunt Lilly, please don’t interrupt who ever it is, Becci pleaded silently. There were no phones upstairs, no way to call for help. The door hinges squealed when she ventured into the hall. Something fell with a loud crash, followed by an explicit curse in a raspy, masculine voice.
Becci pressed her back flat against the wall. She needed a weapon before she confronted the burglar.
No. She wouldn’t go down. Aunt Lilly would stay out of harm’s way, and so would she. As she stood helplessly in the upstairs hallway listening to a thief pilfer through her belongings a floor below, her temper reached the boiling point.
In her journal, Rebecca had written, “Trinkets missing from my cupboard.” Had Caleb been Raleigh’s thief back then?
A door rattled, then the screen clapped against its frame.
Silence.
A moment later Aunt Lilly called to her from the foot of the stairs. “Becci, honey, he’s gone. Come down and help me assess the damage.”
Anger rippled over Becci. What had Caleb stolen? She’d been understanding, had even given him a place to stay. And how had he repaid her?
With thievery. Tomorrow she would order him off her property.
Eight
BECCI JERKED A pair of jeans from her closet, then tossed them on the bed with the others she’d rejected for one reason or another. She tapped her foot impatiently. What did it matter what she wore to kick Caleb off her property? It shouldn’t matter, but it did.
She finally selected a dark green outfit, then tried to force some control to her unruly hair. She slammed the brush down and braced her fists on her hips. Primping? She’d lost her mind.
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