by Izzy James
“Well, what do you think?”
“With your hair curled and piled on your head like that, I would’ve thought you were the time traveler.”
Sadness swelled in her chest, threatening to push more tears through her eyes. “I’m sorry, honey.” Grams leaned over her skirts to fold her in an embrace that had comforted her since she was a girl.
“It’s my own fault, Grams. You warned me.”
“Yes, well, warning me not to fall in love with your grandfather wouldn’t have worked either. I mean they could have, but it would have happened anyway.”
“At least your future wasn’t doomed from the outset.”
“Doomed?” Grams intoned the word in the deepest voice she could muster, a twinkle lighting her eyes.
Olivia laughed in spite of herself. “Yes. Doomed.” She perched on the edge of her favorite recliner. “I just don’t know if I will ever find anyone else.”
“Don’t borrow tomorrow’s problems. You don’t know what God has in store for you.”
“It was such a miracle all by itself, I thought—” She let her sentence drop. It was too embarrassing to state out loud to her grams how stupid she’d been to think that God would have brought the perfect man for her through time. How she’d looked forward to showing Max her new dress. They wouldn’t travel by carriage to assembly rooms to dance, but they could have danced in the conservatory.
“Do you want me to come with you?”
“No. It’s supposed to snow later. You don’t want to be out in that.”
“You’ll come home as soon as you’re done?”
“There’s no reason for me to stay late.”
“Shall I get a movie?”
An image of the two of them curled up on the couch, an old movie on the television, and warm tea in their cups flashed through her mind. “Something funny?”
“Absolutely.”
“Sounds perfect.”
Olivia retrieved the basket she’d placed her music in to keep with the times, and headed out to the Ballard House.
Adelaide sat in the parlor a kerchief to the lower half of her face. Miss Styles and her sister, Mrs. Cooper, stood arm in arm in the doorway.
“May I have a minute with Adelaide, Mrs. Cooper?”
Adelaide nodded toward her mother and the woman stepped two steps into the hall within clear view.
Adelaide turned toward him slightly turning her back to her mother.
“Adelaide, I’ve come to apologize. I hope ye can forgive me. What I said before—”
She let her hand fall bringing the kerchief to her lap. Mirth twinkled in her eyes and a mischievous grin lit her countenance, before consternation wrinkled her brow. “Honestly, Mr. Max, yer arrival is most uncalled for. In fact I hope ye’ve not ruined what ye have done quite by accident. I will not accept yer apology.”
“I know not what ye mean, Adelaide. I came to apologize for my cruelty to ye just now. It was wrong of me—”
“Keep yer voice down. They’ll hear and all will be lost.”
“What is this about, Adelaide?”
“I’ve tried everything for the past year to get my mother to think of someone else for me. Tonight—”
Light dawned. “Ye don’t want to marry me?”
“Yer too old for me, Maxwell Ballard.”
“I could have told ye that.”
“It’s not me. It’s my mother and yers too.”
Max agreed. He’d heard his fair share of the joining of the two families often enough. Yet he had to be sure.
“So it won’t hurt ye then to know that my heart belongs to another?”
“Lord no. I’m glad of it, Max, as ye’ll not have mine.” Relief surged through him, uncoiling the bindings that constricted his heart for centuries.
“And who does?”
Her back straightened, her chin raised slightly. “Jabez Jones.”
He supressed the grin that threatened the corners of his mouth. Her mother and aunt did not need to believe they had reconciled. “Jabez? He’s born the same year as me.”
“Ye’ve always been old Max.”
“Does he know?”
“Course he does. Why do ye think he called to me?”
Rage replaced the recent giddiness. “It was a purpose? Ye’ve no idea what ye’ve done.” When he got his hands on Jabez he’d strangle him. He had half and idea to marry her anyway now that he was home.
A catch in his spirit stayed his tongue.
“Godspeed to ye, Mr. Max.”
Adelaide raised her kerchief to her mouth and nose once more and shook her head.
“Adelaide.”
Mrs. Cooper and Miss Styles re-entered the room.
“She’ll not accept my apology.”
“I hardly blame her.” Mrs. Cooper straightened her shoulders. “I’m ashamed of you Maxwell Ballard. I shall write yer mother and tell her what’s transpired this evening.”
His mother.
Max picked his way carefully back through busy dirt-streets to his shop. He retrieved a bolt of crimson silk before taking one final look around. He would miss it, but not enough to stay. The warmth of Olivia’s laughter, the feel of her dancing in his arms brought him back to his mission. He didn’t know how much time he’d have now he’d made his peace with Adelaide.
He steered clear of his conservatory when he arrived back home, choosing his library desk instead. The stay in his spirit had given him hope. He desperately wanted to go home to Olivia, but he had one thing to do first. He dipped his pen and poised his hand over the page. Nothing came.
How was he going to tell his mother of his travel through time and back again? That he prayed he’d be allowed one more trip to the year two thousand and nineteen to find his future?
At the beginning.
It took him all night. When he was done he sealed the letter and left it on his desk. From his desk drawer, he retrieved his store of gold. He hefted the bolt of crimson silk and entered the conservatory.
Once more he took his place on the bench before his piano and prayed.
10
Twilight filled the streets of Yorktown. Olivia parked her car in the public lot and walked to the Ballard House. Electric candle flames danced merrily above evergreen bows in the windows she passed. Docents dressed for the festivities passed her cheerily calling for a Merry Christmas!
She could barely breathe around her broken heart. He was gone. She tapped her phone to see his face.
And just what are you thankful for? The echo of her mother’s voice called her back to the street.
I’m thankful to be here on this street in my new dress.
I’m thankful Grams is waiting for me at home.
I’m thankful we had one dance before he went away.
I’m thankful I have his song.
“Tis a gift…Just for thee.”
Tears misted her vision. Garrett looped his arm through hers, steering her clear of the curb. “I thought you were supposed to glide along in a dress like that.”
“I thought you were in Williamsburg tonight.”
“Got switched.”
“Lucky for me.”
“My thoughts exactly.”
“Listen, Garrett, I wanted to talk to you about Max.”
“Nothing to talk about. Grams is satisfied that he really cares about you, so I’m good.”
“You’re not—”
He stopped to face her a grin lighting his face. “I love you like my own sister—you know, if I had a sister—” He scratched his chest. “As your brother, it’s my job to make sure you don’t get hurt.”
She linked her arm once more with his. “Thanks.”
“I do have one or two questions about this situation though.”
“What situation?”
“The situation that he is from 1769.”
Olivia’s breath caught. “Grams.”
“I didn’t give her much choice.”
Anger stiffened her gait. Olivia pulled her arm from hi
s.
“I would have found out anyway. All that talk about curses, and other stuff that just didn’t add up.”
The fight deflated before she could think of anything more to say. “He’s gone.”
“Do you think he’ll come back?”
“I want to believe he will, but it may have already been too long.”
A docent opened the door of the Ballard House when they arrived. Olivia passed through the parlor to the bedroom beyond. She hung her cloak on a peg on a far wall. She silenced her phone, placed it in her basket, and set the basket on the floor under her cloak. The room would be off limits to guests, so she had no concerns for its security.
In the parlor she placed her music on the piano and ran through some scales to warm up and calm her mind. It wouldn’t do to weep during a performance. Before long guests began to filter in. Olivia played Max’s tune. Longing filled her heart as she saw them on that beach, hand in hand.
At seven she rose and introduced herself and the music she would be playing. At eight she did so again. Garrett, standing behind their guests, waved a quick good-bye. By nine o’clock her smile had worn new creases in her face. Guests drifted back out onto the street. The docent manning the door had taken his leave when she’d agreed to lock up. She blew out the candles in the dining room, leaving the electric window decorations to illuminate the room.
She leaned against the window overlooking the street. Docents with lanterns and guests meandered past toward Main Street. The house was quiet the way a modern house could never be with its whirr of mechanical devices constantly working in the background.
The wisps of “Unchained Melody” reached her ears so faintly Olivia wasn’t sure it wasn’t a memory of the one dance she’d shared with Max. Someone must be playing their phone outside. She closed her eyes to feel his arms once more as they swayed to the song.
“Are ye still mine, Olivia?”
Eyes snapped open.
Max stood in the doorway of the parlor, holding her phone and wearing that boyish smile that sent her heart tumbling.
“Ye promised to get me one of these.”
“There’s time.”
“Aye.”
Afterword
Thank you for reading. I hope you enjoyed Max.
Those of you familiar with Historic Yorktown, Virginia will undoubtedly recognize my free use of The Ballard House on Nelson Street in Historic Yorktown. Captain John Ballard and his wife Elizabeth had four sons and two daughters, none of them were called Maxwell, but since there were so many I didn’t think adding in one more would hurt. Especially since he slipped away in time after both his parents were gone. They did live for a time at the house we call The Ballard House. Captain John died in 1745 leaving the house to his widow Elizabeth. She died in 1756. Their son, John, sold the house and moved to Princess Anne County in 1761, long before the events of this novella. The house at that time was called Pearl Hall and it was located on Pearl Street.1
The Ballard property on Lot 54 underwent many changes during the years. The dependencies are gone and the inside no longer resembles its original configurations, but as far as I can tell there was no music conservatory attached to the house in any century.1 Its construction is entirely my own suggested by the ballroom at the Governor’s mansion in nearby Williamsburg.
Another note about the Revolutionary War Museum at Yorktown: At the time of this writing, when entering the museum, just past the gift shop there is a display of daguerreotypes of men and one woman who participated in the War for Independence. Those images were taken in the 1850’s.
There is no Jabez Jones, he is absolutely fictitious.
Thanks again for reading Max. If you liked Max would you consider leaving a review at the retailer of your choice? And please visit me on the web. I’d love to hear what you think!
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1.Colonial Yorktown: An Exploration through one of America’s most richly historic Towns: its Houses, Heroes, and Legends by Clyde E. Trudell, Thomas Publications, A division of: America’s Souvenirs and Gifts, Gettysburg, PA 17325. Copywrite 1938, 1971
Also by Izzy James
Finding Boaz
The Christmas Gift
The Christmas Plainsong
