Keeper of the Key

by Barbara Christopher

  BECCI CAME IN THE back door. Caleb sat at the table where she’d left him that morning, a legal pad and set of pastel colored pencils in front of him.

  He glanced up and smiled. Then he shoved the tablet aside and stood. “Lilly said it was time for you to come home.”

  “And I invited him to eat here tonight so you two can talk about your job,” Lilly added.

  Becci felt her heartbeat pick up speed. She’d planned to talk to Caleb after she’d cleaned off the day’s grime and eaten, but talking over dinner in the kitchen was better than meeting Caleb in the shed or beside the lake.

  “I’m off to play bridge,” Lilly said as she set a plate of corn bread in the center of the table. She returned to the stove, ladled out two bowls of soup and brought them to the table. “Help yourself to more, and don’t worry about cleaning up. I’ll do that when I come back.”

  Becci eased into her chair and picked up her spoon. She paused when Caleb bowed his head and blessed the food. “What were you drawing?” she asked.

  He moved the pad so she could see the drawings. “I asked Lilly if she’d seen the medallion. I drew these to show her what it looked like.”

  He pointed to the first circle. “One side, the front, is for friendship—two hands clasped together.” He scooted his fingertip across the page to the second drawing. “The other side represents hatred—two fists raised in anger. Lilly said she hadn’t seen anything like it. Have you?”

  Becci studied the page. “No. Afraid not.”

  He tore the sheet off the pad and tossed it into the garbage can beside the door.

  “The medallion is the key to the portal. I have to have it to go back and save Luke and Rebecca.”

  Picking up his spoon, Caleb kept his gaze on the soup. As soon as he got the chance, he would ask Becci’s permission to open the secret compartment in the dresser upstairs and get the medallion out, but not tonight. He had to find Jacobs first and make sure the man was with him. Otherwise, the portal might open up and take him, leaving Jacobs behind. If the drunk got stuck here, he might do the same thing to Becci and Lilly that he had done to Rebecca.

  “So,” Caleb said. “Tell me about this job of yours.”

  BECCI WATCHED AS Caleb knelt before the small chest of drawers in the nursery, concentrating on the decorative knobs. A week had passed since she’d come home from work and sat down with him at the table to tell him about her job. He’d seemed truly interested in what she did.

  What was he doing? she now wondered. She’d asked him to paint the woodwork, not work on the furniture.

  He opened each drawer and ran his hand inside all the way to the back. He left all of them open in a stair-step fashion with the bottom drawer pulled almost all the way out. With his back to her he stood, moved to the side, and fiddled with one of the carved initials. Reaching across the top he turned the other handle slowly.

  Becci couldn’t stop her surprised gasp. The top panel slid down to reveal a small cubbyhole.

  Caleb whirled around, the knife he’d been using to pry the panel free still clutched in his hand. “You’re early.”

  “What are you doing?” Becci shouted, fear erupting inside her as she gazed at the knife. If the journals were to be believed, he’d killed her namesake with a knife.

  “It’s not what you think.”

  “Do you plan on using that on me?” Becci indicated the knife with a tip of her head.

  “No.” Caleb sheathed the blade and laid it on the chest. “You know I would never harm you.”

  “Really? How am I supposed to know that?” she asked, placing her hands on her hips and glaring at him.

  “Because I say I wouldn’t.”

  “Okay, you won’t harm me. You’ll just steal from me. That is what you’re doing, right?”

  Caleb glanced toward the dresser. If he told her the truth, she wouldn’t understand, but he couldn’t lie. The damning words lodged in his throat.

  “Caleb, I need the gold legend says is hidden in this house so I can help save as many children as possible. So if there really is gold here, it’s important to me. Now, I ask again, what are you doing?”

  “Opening the top of the chest.”

  “I can see that. What I want to know is why?”

  “To see if Rebecca might have hidden anything of value in the chest. Anything that might . . . ”

  Pay some of the bills I found while snooping around downstairs. Put a few coins in your coffers. Buy the cradles the company refused to send you on credit. Help you, he thought. But he couldn’t give any of those reasons to Becci. If she found out he’d been pilfering through her personal things he would never be able to get the medallion. “. . . help me discover how to get back to my time.”

  Icy fingers squeezed his heart at the thought of leaving. If he’d opened the dresser instead of the chest, he might have been gone when she returned home.

  “You should have waited on me.” She stepped toward the chest and brushed her fingers over the carved initials.

  “Be reasonable, Becci. If I have to wait for you, nothing in the house will get finished in time for your party,” Caleb said.

  “Tearing apart the furniture has nothing to do with the work you’re doing. It’s not even on the list of jobs I gave you.” Besides, she wanted to shout. I want to work with you. Instead, she said, “Maybe you ought to go downstairs.”

  “I’ll put the chest back together before I leave. You wouldn’t want any of the parts to get lost.”

  She nodded. He supposed she meant that as a yes. He reached for the panel he’d removed. That’s when he saw the neatly folded square of paper inside the cubical. He could easily palm it, but it, like everything in the house, belonged to Becci.

  Caleb carefully slipped the paper out. He recognized the seal as Rebecca’s. His heart pounded in his ears. There was no name on the outside and no indication as to whom it might belong. He wanted to tear it open and read the letter.

  Instead, he handed it to Becci. “I’m not sure if this is important or not. As you can see, I haven’t broken the seal. Which, by the way, contains Rebecca’s own personal insignia.”

  Becci’s hand trembled as she let the yellowed paper rest in her palm. As Caleb said, the wax seal remained intact. Careful not to destroy the fragile piece, Becci ran her finger under the wax and opened the letter. She recognized Rebecca’s flowing penmanship immediately.

  This should be a letter of recognition attached to an orichalc medallion, but several years ago Saul’s brother used the coin to pay a woman for her services. When he tried to reclaim it, she refused to give it back. I am afraid it has been lost to us forever. Now there is only one medallion—the one Saul gave me the night he died—and it is already in the hands of its rightful owner. I will meet with the new keeper tomorrow.

  The letter was dated June 17, 1836, the day before Rebecca died. Becci looked from Rebecca’s letter to Caleb, her mind full of questions. Was Caleb’s mother the one who refused to return the medallion? He’d said she was a lady-of-the-evening. Was he the rightful owner Rebecca had referred to as having the medallion, or was the medallion the reason Rebecca had been killed?

  Becci refolded the page, knowing she had to know more about the medallion before she could trust Caleb.

  “Please, fix the chest. Then I need your help to change the furniture around in my bedroom. From now on, the work upstairs will be done in the evening after I get home.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Caleb combed his fingers through his hair. What had the note said that upset her so much? And her wary expression said she was upset. He wanted to ask her, but he knew instinctively she wouldn’t tell him. So instead of asking, he replaced the panel on the chest and shut each drawer while she stood over him. Things had definitely changed between them.

  She leaned against the door frame unti
l he had all the parts back together, then she followed him to her bedroom.

  “What do you want changed in here?” he asked

  “The dresser. I think it would look better against the wall opposite the window.” She pointed to the far wall.

  “Do you think you can help me move it? I would hate to scratch the floor.”

  Without saying a word, Becci braced one hand at the front of the dresser, caught the back leg and lifted her side. Caleb caught his side in a similar manner.

  What’s wrong, Becci? I don’t like seeing you upset.

  She glanced up, her eyes wide. What in the world?

  You can hear what I’m thinking.

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  You heard me the day I arrived, too, didn’t you?

  Did I? Was that really his thoughts I heard?

  Yes. And I heard yours, too. It must be the dresser that links us together. Why you and not Jacobs? I heard his thoughts, but he didn’t hear mine.

  Becci set the dresser down, hoping that she wasn’t trembling as badly on the outside as she was on the inside. How could she read Caleb’s thoughts and him hers? It was impossible—wasn’t it?

  “I think you’d better go. I need time to figure this out. And, Caleb, this is just between you and me,” she said as he set his side down. “I do not want Lilly to hear one thing about what happens when we both touch the dresser.”

  Her heart raced as the connection finally made sense. He’d made all the furniture, and she’d heard his voice when they both touched the dresser. But, he’d made the chest, too, and she hadn’t heard him when they both touched it.

  The chest. If it had a secret compartment, maybe there was one in the dresser, too. And if there was, maybe the medallion was the reason for the strange connection between them. He’d said it had “powers” he couldn’t explain.

  She started to ask him if there was a secret compartment in the dresser, but she couldn’t voice the words. If the medallion was in there, he’d be leaving—maybe right in front of her eyes.

  “We need to discuss what just happened and the medallion we talked about last week. Until we do, I don’t want you opening any more secret compartments,” she said. “Do you understand what I’m saying?”

  “Perfectly.”

  MORE THAN A WEEK had passed since Becci had realized that the medallion might be in the dresser. She still hadn’t asked Caleb if there was a secret compartment, although if there was, he was a master at building secret compartments. She’d tried everything she could think of to find one, but she’d come up empty.

  Unable to sleep, she tossed and turned in her bed. When she heard Pepper’s sorrowful meow, she decided to go downstairs and see what was wrong with the kitten. When she entered the room, she glanced out the window and froze. Caleb was in the yard, but what was he doing?

  Her gaze didn’t stray from him as he filled the bucket, fought with the hose, and prepared for his shower. She kept telling herself that she shouldn’t spy on him, that she should turn on the light so he’d know she was there, but she simply couldn’t move. Soon, he was bathed in nothing but moonlight and glistening drops of water, and she drank in the sight of him.

  Had her namesake, Rebecca watched him in secret like this? From what Becci had read in the journals, probably so. The first few months after Saul’s death Rebecca had written paragraphs of grief, followed by praise for the support Caleb had given her. Then things had changed.

  Becci sighed as she recalled Rebecca’s words. The accurate descriptions she’d given in her journal told Becci that Rebecca had cared for Caleb. In them Rebecca had described in detail how his broad shoulders stressed the seams of his shirt while he chopped wood or carried in one of the heavy pieces of furniture he’d made. He is a man who is not afraid of hard work or gentle conversation, she’d written.

  Becci sighed again. She could add a few descriptive words of her own. Some that weren’t too complimentary, such as sneaky and manipulative. Then of course, there were those words that a woman of Rebecca’s social status nearly two hundred years before wouldn’t have been caught writing, like alluring and sexy. Caleb was all that and more.

  He moved with a masculine grace she’d seen only on television or in the movies. What would it be like to run her hands over his soap-slick body? To feel his muscles bunch and relax at her touch? Her fingers tingled with the urge to push open the door and find out.

  “He’s quite a sensational specimen,” Lilly whispered from the doorway. “But I don’t think he would approve of you watching him from the shadows.”

  Becci forced her gaze away from the window. “I know, but there’s something about him . . . .”

  “Becci, you’d better consider all the possibilities before you involve your heart,” Lilly warned.

  “It’s too late.” Becci frowned. The confession startled her. Had she really let this stranger wind his way into her heart?

  “What happens when he leaves?” Lilly asked as she pulled out a chair to join Becci.

  Becci covered her aunt’s hand. “He won’t. He has nothing to go back to.”

  But even as she said the words, she knew they were a lie. Time and again he’d told her he had to go back to his time.

  “He may not have a choice,” Lilly said. “And don’t forget Luke. Caleb must go back to take care of him. He gave his word. He also thinks he might be able to save Rebecca. That’s why you should take your time with this.”

  Becci closed her eyes. She didn’t want to think about Caleb leaving. And she couldn’t stand the thought of him marrying her namesake. She knew in her heart that if Caleb returned to his time and saved Rebecca, Rebecca would marry him—and not just for Luke’s sake.

  But whether or not he stayed, Caleb had taught her one thing. She couldn’t marry Michael. She didn’t love him.

  “You don’t have to worry about anything happening between Caleb and me. I care about him, and I don’t want to see him hurt. That’s all.” It was a flat out lie, but she had to convince herself it was the truth.

  “I’ve got to get dressed,” she said before her hand could respond.

  She hurried upstairs, slipped on her uniform and pinned on the small nurse’s aide hat. She checked her hair in the mirror and smiled. Last week, as she discussed her job, Caleb had caressed her cheek, and she thought he might kiss her again.

  He hadn’t, though. From then on he hadn’t come in for his morning coffee until after she’d left for work. He’d even told her aunt about the rule she’d put into force about him not being allowed alone in any of the rooms. Personal reasons, he’d explained.

  Becci grabbed her badge off the dresser, clipped it to the pocket of her lab coat and plopped down on her bed. Caleb was avoiding her. She’d gotten her proof last night when she took him the list of chores for today. He’d asked her to slip it under the door because he wasn’t decent.

  He’d lied. She’d looked through the window before she knocked and saw him sitting on his bed whittling a chunk of wood. He’d had his shirt off and his pants on. What else was he lying about? Damn it, why couldn’t they be friends?

  “What am I doing wrong?” she mumbled as she ran downstairs and rounded the corner into the kitchen.

  “I don’t know. You look fine to me.” Caleb immediately stood up. “I do prefer your hair down,” he added. “But you said you had to wear it up for work.”

  Becci raised her hand to her chest and tried to still her racing heart. She’d barely managed to get her raging hormones under control from her spy session a short while ago, and now they were going at a full gallop again. “What are you doing here?”

  Lilly gave her a scathing look as she handed her a cup of coffee, and Becci knew her tone had been too harsh.

  “I’m sorry,” Caleb said.

  Becci raised her hand. “No. I’m
sorry. I’m not used to seeing you in the kitchen, so let me start again.”

  She cleared her throat and tossed a quick glance in Lilly’s direction. Hooking her thumb under her purse’s long strap, she adjusted it and lifted her gaze to meet his. “Good morning, Caleb.”

  “Morning, Miss Berclair.” Caleb swallowed hard. He’d never found it difficult to talk about work before, not even with Rebecca. Right now his mouth felt like he’d stuffed it full of cotton. He’d been avoiding Becci all week, hoping it would curb her effect on him. It hadn’t.

  “I’ve finished repairing the furniture for upstairs. Just let me know when you’ll be able to watch me take them up.”

  She hadn’t expected her rule to cause such problems. She should have remembered that her aunt went upstairs only when she had no choice. “I’ll be home tonight. You can finish up then.”

  “That’ll work out fine. We need to discuss the party, too. Will you have the time to talk after you’ve finished your evening meal?” Caleb asked.

  “I have a better idea. Why don’t you, Aunt Lilly and I eat together? We can talk while we eat.”

  Caleb reached for his hat and the sack of sausage and biscuits Lilly set on the table for him to take to Jacobs. “I’m not sure that’s such a good idea.”

  “Caleb Harrison, you will eat with us tonight,” Becci ordered.

  “Yes, ma’am.” He suppressed a satisfied grin. She must have forgiven him for his snooping. He’d thought they might go on a picnic, but he’d forgotten she had to work.

  “I’m sorry, I forgot,” he murmured.

  “Forgot what?” Becci asked.

  “Huh?”

  “What are you apologizing for? What did you forget?”

  “That you had to work today,” he stammered. “I thought we might go on a picnic.”

  “That’s a great idea. We’ll plan one for my next day off.” She glanced at the calendar. Michael’s name was scrawled across the date in bright red.

  Caleb’s gaze followed hers. “Maybe a picnic isn’t such a good idea after all. Mr. Ascott wouldn’t appreciate me escorting his woman.”