“Can you tell me something about the future?” He wasn’t sure if he’d be able to tell if she were telling the truth or not by what she said, but he had to admit he was curious.
“We have cars. They are like carriages but don’t need horses to run.”
That seemed plausible. He knew there were people working on technology for such a thing.
“And airplanes.” She pointed up to the sky. “We can go places in planes…um, like big ships…that fly through the air at hundreds of miles an hour.”
“Really?” He knew his skepticism showed.
“And we’ve sent rocket ships to the moon,” she continued, with each statement getting more outlandish. “And a black man was president of the United States.”
He laughed. Now she was clearly pulling his leg, but he glanced at her and she was watching him, one eyebrow quirked, not even a trace of a smile.
She was serious. He remembered that Moses’s mysterious man had made those same predictions.
“And this war that’s starting?” he asked, even as he got a funny feeling deep inside when he said it. Did he want to know? Would it make a difference? Maybe it would. If he knew which side won, he could choose which side to support. Forewarned is forearmed after all.
“You want me to tell you?” she asked, and a shiver ran down his back as he realized that she thought she could.
Did he want to know?
“Yes.” He pushed away his doubts. If she knew, he wanted to know.
“The south loses. Slaves are freed. The war lasts four years. Many many people are killed. More than any other war.”
No. That wasn’t what he wanted to hear. His stomach suddenly felt unsettled. Was it the wine? Or the information?
“They say it’s going to be a short war.” His voice sounded weak and uncertain.
“They’re wrong.”
He studied her eyes. She didn’t have that wild crazy look he’d seen in people who clearly had lost touch with reality. There was honesty and intelligence behind her eyes, not insanity.
He wanted to believe it would be a short war. He wanted to think that he and his friends could march off with the army, fire a few shots at the other side, have them put their hands up in surrender and say, never mind, we didn’t mean to cause a bother, we’ll all go home now. That’s how he wanted it to work. He wasn’t sure he liked confirmation of his worst fears.
“How can I help you?” Better to focus on what he could do for her; the coming war was largely out of his control.
“I want to go home,” she said, and the longing in her eyes was unbearable. “But I can’t figure out how to make it work. I think Moses knows something, but he won’t tell me.”
The stories Moses used to tell him. Did they have some basis in reality? Were they not just strange tales to keep him from playing in the fish pond? And what about the story of DayJon? Who was that mysterious person? Had he come from another time like Moses said? Had his aunt gone to one?
“I can get Moses to tell me what he knows.” He wished they hadn’t drunk all the wine; he could use some more. “Why did you think you needed silver?”
She held out her right hand and showed him a ring. It was a twisty piece of gold, very beautiful and delicate. “When I got this ring, it had gold and silver intertwined. When I came out of the pond the silver was gone. I thought maybe the pond needed silver as a sacrifice or something to make it work. I didn’t get a chance to test the theory, though.”
“Do you want to test it now?” he asked. “I can get you silver.”
The hopeful look in her eyes was heartbreaking. “Can you? Can I? It’s not that I don’t appreciate your hospitality and everything, but, oh, I do want to go home.”
“Yes, of course. Let’s get you home,” he said and began packing up the remnants of the picnic. It was good to finally have answers. To have a way to help her and to get her home. Not that he minded having her around. She was attractive and friendly and funny, and he enjoyed spending time with her. But he couldn’t keep her around for those reasons; first of all, it was wrong. Second, Dinah would never stand for it. Perhaps he should have thought of Dinah first.
He helped her back into the carriage. She fumbled with the skirts, but after a minute or two managed to get herself situated.
“Tell me,” he asked as he settled beside her and picked up the reins. “What do you wear in your time? You seem unused to these clothes.”
“Oh.” Her cheeks flushed becomingly. “Generally jeans. You know, trousers. But if I’m going out somewhere I’ll wear a dress, but it only comes past my knee, and doesn’t have all this other stuff like hoops and corsets.”
Trousers, on women? He could feel his own face getting hot at the thought. And short skirts with no hoops and corsets? He wouldn’t mind getting a chance to see this world she came from.
They rode in silence for a moment. He frankly wasn’t sure what to say to her. She was some exotic creature that shouldn’t even be here. What could he possibly say that she would want to hear? Unless she was as curious about his time as she was about his.
“Is there, um, anything you’d like to know about now? Anything you’d like to see or do?” His voice cracked on “do” which it hadn’t done to him since he was fourteen. He cleared his throat. “Or do” he repeated solemnly.
“I wouldn’t mind seeing a ball,” she admitted, with a touch of longing in her voice. “But I’d much rather go home. You don’t mind, do you?”
“Not at all.” He pointed the horse back toward the house. They left the fairy glade by the waterfall.
“Perhaps.” He cleared his throat. “You should go into the water in your shift. Less chance of accidental drowning if you are not over encumbered. And…” He hated to bring this part up, but it had to be said. “If you get to where you are going, it might be hard to explain to Elizabeth what happened to her dress.”
Next to him Miss Parks laughed. She had a lovely laugh, free and unfettered, unlike so much of the tittering that girls he normally saw did.
“Yes, that might be hard to explain…on both ends.” A moment where the only sounds were the clop of the horse’s hooves, the jingle of the harness and the rumble of the wheels over the hard ground. “Thank you for being so understanding. I know it sounds unbelievable, and if it weren’t happening to me, I wouldn’t believe it. But thank you. You don’t know how much it means to have you believe me.”
Transferring both leads to one hand, he reached over and took hold of her hand. “It is hard to believe it is true, but I will do everything I can to help you.”
And if holding a bit of silver did not send her back to where she said she came from, he’d have to figure out what to do with her. It would certainly be easier if her story were true and she went home. He drove the buggy straight to the pond. There was no one around, which certainly worked to their advantage. He helped her out of the carriage, and they stood awkwardly looking at the dark water of the pond.
“Do you want me to help you out of the dress or would you rather I call Beck?” He wasn’t sure what answer he wanted her to give. On the one hand, he had no objections to undressing her. On the other hand, there were the proprieties to consider. Did rules of etiquette apply in a situation like this?
She started a bit at hearing Beck’s name and turned pale. “Better not call her. If you don’t mind messing with the buttons and ties and what not, I don’t mind.”
Was she remembering being naked in his bed? How could she not be? But he wasn’t going to get her naked now. She’d still have her shift on. She’d still be covered. It was all perfectly innocent. Part of him wished it wasn’t.
His fingers felt fat and awkward as he worked the tiny buttons on the back of the dress. He’d always thought that when he got around to undressing a woman it would be a prelude to bedding her, not to sending her away.
The dress fell away from her shoulders. “Perhaps you can help me lift it over my head?”
He tried to control his breathing as
his fingers touched bare skin on her arms and shoulders as she emerged from under the dress. He pulled his hands back quickly, so as not to be tempted to touch her like he had that first night when she appeared in his bed. No. He had to remember Dinah. He had to remember not to take advantage of Miss Park’s unfortunate situation.
She didn’t appear to notice his distress as she unbuttoned the hoops from her corset. Once they had fallen to the ground she turned her back toward him. “Would you mind untying the corset?”
Mind untying the corset? It was every man’s fantasy, untying the corset and getting to what was underneath. He had to remind himself this was not a prelude to anything. His body was reacting as if something else might happen. He took a steadying breath and fumble-fingered loosened the laces on the corset for her.
She stood in her shift before him, her arms crossed protectively in front of her. She looked so scared and vulnerable. He wanted to take her into his arms and protect her and kiss her again. He couldn’t do that, though.
“You said you had silver?” Her voice quavered. Perhaps she was uncertain about this endeavor as well. Was it the prospect of going back into the pond, even if it meant bringing her home, or was she afraid she was about to be exposed as a fraud?
He pulled a ring from his pocket and spent a moment studying the small circle in the palm of his hand. Anna had given it to him when he went off to University. He had joked that he was supposed to give her a ring, and she had smiled coyly and told him that could come later. But in the meantime she didn’t want to be forgotten. He could never forget her. Never had, never would. But he would be marrying Dinah soon, and Miss Parks needed silver, and the time had come to sever the ties with Anna. He handed the ring to Miss Parks.
She gave him a searching look. “If this works I won’t be able to give it back. Is this something you can part with?”
“It is.” His voice was thick and he spoke brusquely to hide his emotions. “Take it.”
She took it and gave him a shy smile. “Thank you.”
They stood a few feet apart, but with a world between them. How does one say goodbye under these circumstances? He rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet, remembering the kiss they’d shared and wishing it didn’t feel like his heart was being wrenched out of his chest by being forced to say goodbye.
Her hair had started to come loose, and she pushed a lock back behind her ear.
“Thank you,” she said again. “For everything.”
He didn’t even think. He pulled her to him and kissed her again. She melted in his arms, but then she found her strength and pushed herself away from him.
“I must go.” She gently touched her lips.
“Don’t forget me.” What he should have said was ‘good bye,’ but those were not the words that came out of his mouth.
“I won’t.” She blinked quickly a couple of times, and then with a small nod toward him, she turned and walked into the dark water of the fish pond. He heard her muttering something as she walked but couldn’t make it out. He watched as she got to knee level. Waist level. And then with a final wave toward him, she ducked under the water.
Ripples spread out from where she had gone under. Bubbles from her breath floated to the surface with encouraging regularity. If he stopped seeing those bubbles would it mean that she had gone to where she had meant to go, or that she had died? He stared at those bubbles.
They stopped. It took a moment to realize they weren’t there anymore, that another wasn’t about to surface, but they were gone. She was gone.
He stared at the water, waiting for something else to happen. Should he dive in? Was she trapped, and drowning? He should. If he couldn’t find her, then she was safe in her own time, but what if she were still here and suffering. He couldn’t let her suffer. He was about to kick off his shoes when the bubbles started up again in the pond, and then, she emerged.
She stared at him, wide-eyed and then those beautiful brown eyes filled with tears and her face crumpled as she began to cry.
Chapter Fifteen
Emily
It hadn’t worked.
Sam wrapped her in a blanket and held her in his arms while she sobbed.
She kept trying and trying, and it never worked. She wanted to go home. Why couldn’t she get home? Did she have to click her heels together like Dorothy or something? She’d do it. Anything. But the fishpond had brought her here, and she didn’t understand why it wouldn’t take her back again. What did it want from her?
“It will be all right,” Sam whispered in her ear. “It will. Let me get you upstairs and into dry clothes. Trust me, it will be all right.”
It will be all right. The words penetrated her haze, and she nodded. She sniffled and wiped a hand across her eyes to dry them. Sam scooped up the discarded dress and hoops and then, guiding her by a light touch on her elbow, led the way back to the house.
She stumbled over rough ground, and Sam dropped the clothing in order to steady her. She would have sat down right there and started crying again, but he kept up the soothing chatter and got her moving.
It will be all right. He kept repeating it. Maybe it was true. It had to be true, otherwise how would she keep on going?
Women were coming in and out of the kitchen, and she froze. She didn’t want to be seen like this, dripping wet, wrapped in a blanket. But Sam nudged her gently along. “It’s all right. No one will notice a thing”
Probably a convenient fiction. Weren’t people with servants always convinced they saw or knew nothing. She had read enough books to know that was never the case, but she chose to believe him so she could get inside. If she could get inside, things would be all right.
They made it over the threshold into the house, and she would have stopped there had he not once again steered her along. “We’ll get you upstairs so you can change.”
Under the blanket she shivered. Yes. She needed to change. They went up the back stairs, where no one but servants were likely to see them. She kept putting one foot in front of the other, trying to push all other thoughts out of her mind. It had not worked. She would never get home. What was she going to do now? How on earth could Sam say it would be all right?
When the door of her room finally shut behind them, she dropped the blanket to the floor and stood in her wet shift, uncertain what to do next.
“You should get out of the wet clothing.” He dumped the dress and hoops on the bed. “Where is a dry shift?”
“How should I know!” Emily blurted out, coming back to life as anger surged through her. “This isn’t my house, my things, my time! I have nothing. Nothing except a bridesmaid’s dress that has apparently disappeared.”
“Okay, okay.” Sam put a soothing hand out but didn’t touch her. “I’ll get you something dry. Don’t go anywhere.”
He left her standing, dripping in the middle of the room. Like she had anywhere to go.
The anger left as quickly as it had appeared, leaving her with no emotion but hopelessness once again.
She still had the ring Sam had handed her on her finger, and she twisted it around. The silver hadn’t worked. The magic spell hadn’t worked. There had to be another variable. Night time? Full moon? The fog? What was it? Maybe all wasn’t lost. There was a way to get home. There had to be. They hadn’t tried every variable. Moses still hadn’t told her what he knew. She had to be patient and remain calm. Right, remain calm, while trapped in the past with the Civil War starting. Calm. Ha.
Sam came back holding a white muslin shift. “I found this in Elizabeth’s room. It should work. Take off the wet one.”
“We have to ask Moses what the trick is.” She ignored his injunction to undress. “I need to know what we did wrong.”
“Right. We will. But first you need to get out of the wet clothing.” He held the shift out to her, but she didn’t take it.
“It could be darkness. Maybe we have to try again when it’s night. Or maybe it has to do with the full moon. When is the next full moon?” Her
voice rose in pitch as she edged ever closer to panic.
“Miss Parks.” Sam took a step toward her. “Emily.” His voice was thick with emotion. “It will be all right. I promise. Let’s get you into dry clothes.” He came even closer and touched her shoulder. “You’ll get sick. That won’t help anything.”
Somehow his touch unfroze her, and the panic retreated into the dark corners, for now. “Right. I need to take this off.” She stepped behind a room dividing screen. The shift clung to her, and her skin was still damp when it was removed. “Do you think you can find me a towel?” she called out to Sam.
“Certainly.” A moment later, a hand holding a towel appeared around the edge of the screen. She took it.
“Thank you.” She dried herself off. There was a man in the room with her and she was naked and all that separated them was this screen. She wasn’t someone to simply fall into bed with someone, and Sam was engaged, which made him off limits, but yet, part of her felt a pull to simply walk out from behind the screen and offer herself to him. But no. That was a silly and strange romantic kind of notion, probably stemming from panic and fear and the desire to take control of something, anything in her life. But she couldn’t do that. It would be foolhardy on so many levels.
Yet, she was drawn to him. He was handsome and charming, and here.
“Emily?” He called from the other side of the screen. It wasn’t lost on her that he had stopped calling her Miss Parks. She wasn’t entirely certain what that signified. “Are you all right?”
She wrapped the towel around her sarong-style and stepped out from behind the screen. “Yes, thank you.” He was close enough to touch. “I need the dry shift,” she said, barely able to make her voice work. Her heart beat fast, and she wanted him to hold her. It was wrong, but it was what she wanted, and damn it, shouldn’t she get something she wanted? Everything else was working against her.
She took one step closer, and so did he, and soon she was wrapped in his embrace. She put her arms around him, holding tight. His hands were on her shoulders and moving down her back and the towel was coming loose and she didn’t care in the least. His mouth found hers and she was surprised that she could even breathe, that she was still standing.
Emily's Song Page 14
