Out of the Past (Heritage Time Travel Romance Series, Book 1 PG-13 All Iowa Edition)

by Dana Roquet

  “Oh my God, Torie—are you okay?” Dave asked worriedly as he took me gently into his arms.

  I touched my abdomen that was still stretching and moving beneath my hand and I reached for his hand and laid it on my belly over the point of the pandemonium going on within me and his eyes widened as he looked into my tear-brimmed ones.

  “Wow!” he whispered in awe and then. “Hey, don’t cry sweetheart. Torie, please don’t.”

  “I’m fine,” I assured him. “I’m just feeling crazy emotional right now.”

  I repositioned his hand, placing it on the location of another strong kick as the baby changed position again and I closed my eyes, feeling sensations that were so foreign and new to me, but beautiful. With my eyes still closed, I put my arms around Joshua’s neck and brought his head down to me and I kissed his lips. Dave kissed me back, wrapping me carefully in his arms as I dropped the gown to the floor, and we just held each other, kissing warmly. It was so familiar because it was Dave’s kiss, his style of kissing which I know so well but the experience was completely new and different at the same time.

  “Torie, I can sense his love for them inside me. He loved this woman and this baby very much,” he whispered against my mouth, while running his hands gently over my naked back.

  “I feel it, too, her love for them as well as my love for you and it’s so much emotion that it’s hard to bear,” I admitted, smoothing my hands over his muscular back as he cradled me against him as best he could, considering the awkward shape of my abdomen wedged in between us.

  “It’s so sad,” I said, opening my eyes and pulling back to look up into his face. “To know that he will die in just a matter of months, and be buried in Cedar for all of eternity—just imagine everything that he missed out on in life. He was only twenty-three-years-old when he died,” I smoothed my hand along the light stubble of his cheek gently. “He looks so young.”

  “She does, too. They look like they’re just kids,” he murmured, running a finger lightly along my jawline. “What year is it I wonder?”

  I thought about it for a moment, thinking about my family tree and Katie McFall.

  “It must be the spring of 1891, I think.” I said without complete certainty but knowing that I would be able to pin down all of the details when I could get back home and consult my family tree.

  As we stood there in Joshua and Ivy’s bedroom, me naked and him half dressed, holding me within his arms, the desire that I felt for him flared sudden and intense and I slid my hands down his smooth, muscular chest and over his ribs moving lower. As I leaned toward him, over the mound of my stomach, inviting him to kiss me again, I reached down between us to work the buttons of his pants open but Dave quickly withdrew from the kiss and grabbed ahold of my hand just as I reached inside. His hand closed around mine, stopping me.

  “No, Torie, we can’t. You’re pregnant—what about the baby?” he asked, trying gallantly to be the voice of reason but his desire for me was all too apparent.

  I laughed softly. “It’s fine. People make love all the time when they’re pregnant, Dave.”

  “A hundred years ago they didn’t,” he argued. “What if something were to happen to you or the baby? What would we do? We don’t even know where we are for sure in order for me to go for help?”

  I stepped back and displayed my slim, naked, and very pregnant figure.

  “I think that they were planning this—I know that they were. Don’t worry, please. You met Katie when she was a girl, remember? Nothing is going to happen—Katie will be fine, and Ivy lived to be a very old woman,” I assured him.

  Finally convinced and without any further preamble, he released my hand and made no objection when I worked his pants downward, until he took up the task, quickly stripping out of the rest of his clothes and boots, leaving everything puddled on the floor where they dropped. Then with his desire warring for control of his features against the trepidation he felt about what we were about to do; he finally succumbed completely and allowed me to lead him to our bed, which was lit by the early morning’s filtered sunshine and invitingly rumpled from our previous night’s rest.

  ***

  We made love carefully, in spoon fashion with Dave snuggled up close behind me, which was tender, intimate and comfortable for me, in my heavily pregnant state. Then, just after, Dave reached over my waist in search of my hand and upon taking it, laced his fingers over the top of mine and then he whispered softly, in Joshua’s voice, a term of endearment that Dave had never used before.

  “I’ll always love you, my own.”

  The warmth of his breath drifted over the cup of my ear and his words were filled with such raw emotion that I got a shiver of goosebumps stippling my skin and tears pricked my eyes. Shocked by the wrenching desolation in his voice, I shifted slightly to be able to look back over my shoulder and into his face. When I did, I saw a single tear leaving a track upon his cheek and Dave smiled at me, helpless to explain. He bent his head toward mine and I gently kissed his tear away, and then turned over as he gathered me carefully into his arms, holding me close.

  It had seemed to us, as if the man whose life had been cut short, much too soon, was sending a loving message—wafting gently across more than a century of time and space to ‘his own’, to his Ivy. It had been intense, beautiful, and a moment of pure love.

  Chapter 30

  August 29, 2012

  From: Torie Mills

  To: Claire

  Subject: Meeting you!

  Dear Claire,

  Hey, world’s greatest assistant! I have been home in Iowa for a while now and haven’t heard a peep out of you, so I thought I would write and thank you again for all of your help and great company at the signing. Those can be kind of a drag for me but the time spent with you will go down in history as my all-time favorite book signing event! If you feel like it, feel free to write me anytime or as often as you like. I will look forward to hearing from you.

  TTFN

  Your friend,

  Torie

  ***

  August 31, 2012

  From: Claire

  To: Torie Mills

  Subject: Re: Meeting you!

  Dear Torie,

  Hi! I was so happy to get an email from you. It was so great to meet you and Jimmy Thomas. I wanted to thank you also for a great memory! I have had my e-reader all charged up forever and will be reading starting tonight. I had to go to the hospital a few days ago and ended up stuck in there. Something about my lung function—I try to ignore all that. I am trying to stay occupied. Hence…the reading shall commence!

  TTFN

  Claire

  ***

  September 1, 2012

  From: Torie Mills

  To: Claire

  Subject: Glad you’re feeling better!

  Dear Claire,

  Yes, reading is the best medicine! I say take two books and call me in the morning—sorry, a play on some corny old saying I heard somewhere. I’m glad that you are out of the hospital, honey. I was a little concerned when you hadn’t written me. The doctors probably didn’t want you doing anything like that, huh?

  Okay—I got a little romantic thing for you, since you, being a writer also, you’ll appreciate this. When I got back to my room after our day together, my boyfriend Dave, (I showed you his picture remember?) he was standing in the hallway, in front of my hotel room waiting for me! He drove all the way from Iowa (about 6 hours) to be with me. Awww!

  If I ever decide to write something other than historical romance, I’ll have to include that little gem, I think or you can use it as an idea for your writing if you like. It wouldn’t work in the horse-and-buggy days as well, which is my usual mode of transportation in my books. You know what I mean? It would probably take like two weeks to get from Iowa to Illinois on horseback. You’ll need to consider those kinds of things when you start to write your novel. You will be amazed at all of the things that you need to learn and consider as you write. Using words and say
ings that don’t fit with the times—that is the hardest thing to overcome when writing historical romance, for me anyway.

  I am going to make a chocolate run to the convenience store now. I’m having a major craving for a Casey’s fudge brownie.

  TTFN, Sweetie!! Take care of yourself and tell your dad and mom hi!

  Torie

  ***

  September 3, 2012

  From: Claire

  To: Torie Mills

  Subject: Book Reviews

  Dear Torie,

  Great choice regarding On the Island! I finished it in two days, and it was just perfect! I could relate to T.J. so much, and the love story was so hot! I found the author’s fan page on Facebook and left a little note, and she wrote me back. Most of my teenage life I have spent in hospitals and feeling sick, and I let her know that she got that part totally right.

  Even though I’m not feeling very good right now, my hair is starting to grow a bit and my eyebrows, too. I have dark-brown hair. I don’t think you know that about me. I am attaching a photo of me from when I was about 15 before I got sick the first time.

  Now on to Shanna next and I’ll give you a review. This may take some time. It’s like 700 pages! Dang!

  Love,

  Claire

  Oh and P.S. I got an email from Jimmy. It was so nice of him to do that. I know you are all busy people with jet-setting around the world and all. That you take time for someone like me is so amazing. It means the world to me, Torie. It really does.

  ***

  September 3, 2012

  From: Torie Mills

  To: Claire

  Subject: Re: Book Reviews

  Dear Claire,

  I am so glad you liked my recommendation. And yes, Shanna is an epic-sized read but well worth it. Just let yourself drink in all of the beautiful details that she fills her pages with. I am anxious to get your opinion of Shanna and Ruark. I wonder if you will have the same opinion of their relationship as I do. Warning! Pretty smokin’ hot love scenes ahead!

  The picture of you is beautiful. You have the most amazing sky-blue eyes. I hope you know that. Actually, I didn’t really even notice that you didn’t have hair when we were together in Chicago. Okay, maybe at first, but after a few minutes, all that I could see was the wonderful young woman inside.

  Now for the comment about jet-setting! Hey, girl, I live in a little spit of a town that has no grocery store, one combination gas station / convenience store, and yesterday a big old brown cow was standing in my garden, eating my fall bounty! Not really, I got no fall bounty this year, but it was eating my grass! Very glamorous, huh!? I had to call Dave, and he had to leave his job about five miles away and come to my rescue. Doesn’t sound like a romance scene, does it? Oh, but it was—nothing more romantic than a man wrestling with a wild beast for you.

  Actually, he just put a rope around its neck and walked it up the road to the farm it had escaped from. It was as gentle as a puppy dog. Pretty darn funny—so glamour?—NOT!

  I’m jealous that you got an email from Jimmy! Isn’t he the best though? I have asked him to schedule his photo shoot for OUR (yours and mine) book cover. I’m basing my hero on Dave, and I think we just gotta have a Jimmy for the cover, don’t you? I know you will agree. I absolutely can’t wait to see him in a Union soldier uniform. Yum! Speaking of which, do you ever watch You Tube? Look up the official You Tube video by Fun for “Some Nights”. I swear that I listen to that thing over and over for hours while I write our novel. It sets the perfect mood for me. You will know why when you watch it.

  I have your poem placed in the text (looks awesome!!). Still deciding on the title for the book, and actually, as I have been writing, I keep thinking that the leading lady needs to be Claire, with dark-brown hair and bright-blue eyes…Hmmm, what do you think? I have attached the first 2 chapters for you to critique for me, and hey…be brutally honest, okay? Being a writer yourself, your opinion is important to me. Don’t have to read it right away, though, because Ruark and Shanna are waiting!

  Much love to you, girl! Tell your mom and dad hello!

  Torie

  ***

  I hit the sleep switch of my computer, rose, and looked across at Dave, who sat amidst a mountain of pillows and white bedding, smiling in amusement as he enjoyed Letterman’s opening monologue and the most completely contented feeling came over me. My heart was overflowing with love for him and my stomach was full of butterflies at the thought that this wonderful man was truly mine. I felt a deep and visceral need to express my love for him and when he felt my eyes upon him and looked up at me, opening his arms out toward me in a welcoming gesture; I approached the foot of the bed and I slipped my tank top off over my head and worked my boxers down until they dropped to the floor. Keeping my eyes on Dave, I walked over and switched off the overhead light, casting the room into the soft glow of the dimmed bedside lamps.

  “Uh-oh—I think I’m in for some lovin’,” Dave announced in his sexier-than-hell casual way, quickly grabbing up the remote and turning off the television.

  I walked back to the foot of the bed and playfully grabbed the sheet, slowly drawing it down and off of him. He settled back casually, stacking his hands behind his head, and crossing his legs at the ankles, grinning as he allowed me to have my way with the covers.

  “Do your worst to me, beautiful. I’m all yours,” he chuckled.

  Chapter 31

  The time travels spent at Grandma Rose’s house are always very special to me regardless of what is involved. I am always just blown away and completely absorbed; while strolling with curiosity through the rooms and discovering all of the little secrets that they hold. I love preparing meals with the women and I enjoy serving and sharing those meals with the family. Sometimes, wonderful evenings spent sitting outside on the front porch in warm weather and all of the family gathered together, sharing conversations about what had happened during their days as well as the latest news and gossip from town. I treasure being able to watch it all unfold as my dad’s family carved out their unique place in Fremont’s history, during a century and a half of living here. But then one time travel—the lighthearted fun abruptly came to an end and things got a little too real.

  ***

  A travel always begins with the five senses one by one awakening, is the best way that I can describe it, the perception of the surroundings, moving outward; expanding like the rings on the disturbed smooth surface of a tranquil lake ever outward until my mind can take in and encompass the entire scene. This travel began with my first sense, my eyes, opening to view a ceiling above me, drenched with natural sunlight and casting a warm glow over cracked and yellowed white paint. Next my hearing came awake to a chorus of birds singing outside an open window to my right where the touch of cool air wafted over my face, and my sense of smell awakened to a fresh light breeze carrying on it, the scent of lilac in full bloom, as it ruffled opened curtains of blue calico.

  My perusal of myself moved on, noticing the brown locks of my hair hanging over my chest and then I studied my right hand resting upon my midriff with young, unmarred skin and the realization came, that I was lying in a bed, with pillows stacked behind my back, propping me up so that I could look out of the window. I attempted to adjust my right leg to relieve a pressure point but was unable to lift it. I looked down my body to my legs that felt heavy and immovable, although I could see that they were covered by only a lightweight linen sheet. I was finally able to move my leg to relieve the discomfort but it literally felt as heavy as lead, as if instead of the sheet, my body was covered by one of those aprons that a dentist or radiology technician uses to protect those body parts that are not to be exposed to x-ray.

  A slight burst of panic at this inability to move my leg freely, started to set off alarms in my head and my attention came back to the room and the window and I understood then that I was in Grandma Rose’s house and the room that I was lying in was a back bedroom, one of those facing the barn and, in fact, the wind
ow was the very window that I had a photograph of—that shot where the barn is visible and a team of draft horses are coming back from a day in the fields. I, all at once, knew then and the travel came into perfect focus, as I was able to merge all of the scattered pieces of my consciousness together into this one place in the universe and pin it down. I was in Mahala’s bedroom and I was lying in her bed and I was feeling her weakness as I looked about the room with my head spinning as if I’d just gotten off of some wildly careening carnival ride.

  My great-grandaunt Mahala Wyman, who shares a headstone with her parents Judson and Rose in Cedar Township Cemetery, died at the young age of twenty-one, of congestive heart failure, known as dropsy back then and I knew that I might possibly be ill with that disease which would eventually kill her; the same death that had taken my own mother six years ago. The wooziness in my head increased as if I’d just stood up from a chair too quickly but in fact, the jolt of these realizations was causing my heartrate to jump and in turn, my entire circulatory system to react. My heart was stuttering irregularly in my chest and I intentionally took a breath and attempted to calm myself until my frantic, scattered thoughts finally settled back again into my skull.

  The next moment, the ripple of my consciousness expanded outside from my own immediate physicality when I saw a man dressed in a black suit come to stand beside my bed and I became aware of the shift on my mattress caused by his weight as he sat down beside me. I looked up into his face and watched dispassionately as he put the earpieces of a stethoscope into his ears and his fingers worked the buttons on the front of the long-sleeved cotton nightgown I wore, which I noticed now, and saw was embroidered with dozens of blue and yellow blossoms. He placed the cool metal disc upon my bare chest and listened intently to my heart which I could still feel fluttering like a butterfly, flitting unevenly across a meadow, pausing and starting.