by Mae Clair
She wandered from one to the next, pausing now and again to absorb a name. Each represented a singular life. Husband, father, brother, uncle, friend–men with dreams and aspirations who’d fought for a cause they believed in.
“Arianna.” Caleb’s voice was flat, breaking her reverie. She gave a guilty start to find him standing a step away, scowling in her direction. “We should go upstairs and see what the children are doing.”
Children. He’d never once said ‘kids’ throughout the long course of the day. “They’re fine, Caleb.”
“I think we should go.” There was no disguising the tension in his voice.
She hedged, unable to understand why the monument didn’t enthrall him the way it did her. There was something in his eyes that hinted of sadness. He seemed uneasy, anxious that she be away.
“Don’t you realize these are the names of the men who fought for the Union while representing Pennsylvania? How can you not be affected, given all you know of the war?”
“I never said I wasn’t affected, I said we should go.” He stepped closer, towering over her, his gaze touched by the unnatural silver sheen that claimed it from time to time.
“You go check on the kids if you want. I’ll be along in a minute.” Her instinct was silly, but she was certain he didn’t want her to see something. Something among the many plaques in the monument. Her gaze strayed to the nearest.
“Annie.”
The name sent a tiny thrill through her. His voice was softer now, quiet. She was starting to enjoy the way he shortened her name in a manner no one else did. There was always intimacy in his voice when he called her Annie.
“Ms. Hart,” Lisa called from the doorway to the stairs. “Come quick! Danny and Scott are spitting off the balcony, betting on who can hit someone below.”
Arianna rolled her eyes. She should have known that sooner or later Danny Tusoni and Scott Albright would show their true colors. They’d behaved all day, but the allure of the open two-story monument was too much for them.
Caleb raised a brow. “Want some help?” He grinned, once again at ease.
“What do you think?” Arianna beckoned him to follow, leaving the bronze tablets and their list of names behind.
* * * *
Caleb lingered after she left, tension flowing from his body. All day he’d been anticipating their arrival at the monument, uncertain how he would navigate Arianna’s interest in the memorial. He’d known she was too impassioned about the men who fought in the war to give the shrine only a passing glance. To her, the names on the plaques meant more than forgotten lives. They’d been husbands, fathers and sons, all with dreams and ambitions.
Men like Private Stan Hipplewhite, who’d never had the chance to wed his childhood sweetheart. The nineteen-year-old bugler should have grown old with the girl he’d planned to marry, children scampering at his feet. Instead he’d coughed his lungs out, bleeding to death in Caleb’s arms on a smoke-choked battlefield, the roar of cannons booming in their ears. There’d been no wife for Stan, no freckle-faced farm girl to welcome him home with outstretched arms and a loving smile.
“Her name’s Molly, Sir,” the boy had told him as he lay dying. “Know’d her all my life, since we was young’uns. Promised I’d come back after the war and make her my wife. Her pap’s got a farm in Hanover…promised us land…”
Caleb had seen other men die, but the bugler haunted him.
If he hadn’t come on the trip, Arianna might have stumbled across the discovery he’d protected for the last three years. A few more steps to the rear of the monument and she would have seen the names of soldiers belonging to the Fiftieth Regiment–many he could recite by memory, their faces crowded in his mind. He wasn’t sure if it was morbid curiosity or fatalistic reality that made him turn the corner. His mouth flattened in a tight line as he beheld the name of the commander emblazoned at the top of several regimental plaques:
Fiftieth Regiment Infantry, Col. Caleb R. DeCardian.
It was an odd feeling, seeing his name immortalized in brass. He’d survived Gettysburg only to be listed as missing in action a month later. Wyn had tracked down the information on something he called the web by delving into historical archives.
“Mr. DeCardian?”
Caleb jerked, surprised to find Trudy Walker gazing up at him. Lanky for her height, she was all arms and legs with enormous blue eyes and a straight fall of corn-gold hair.
“What are you looking at?” the girl asked innocently, her eyes straying to the nearest tablet.
“Nothing.” Caleb gave her shoulder a gentle push, ushering her to the center of the monument. She craned her neck to glance over her shoulder, but he diffused her interest with a breezy smile.
“How about showing me the upper level? I could use a guide.”
Trudy beamed. “Sure. This way.” She waved him toward the stairs, preening to be chosen as his personal tour guide.
Caleb sent one last glance behind him, the past and its many ghosts fading from memory as the present eclipsed his former life.
Chapter 10
Wyn was slicing vegetables when Caleb walked into the kitchen. Arianna had dropped him off after her students were all picked up. He’d enjoyed her company despite the memories the battlefield resurrected–the roar of Confederate cannon, his men anxious and primed for a fight; the pain-contorted face of Stan Hipplewhite as the boy died in his arms.
“How’d it go?” Wyn asked over his shoulder. “You get a ride from Arianna?”
Caleb nodded, strolling closer to see what his nephew was doing. Finding a pile of freshly diced carrots, he grabbed a handful.
“Hey! They’re for dinner.”
Caleb crossed to the refrigerator to retrieve a bottle of spring water. “Are you cooking?”
“Don’t I always?”
Caleb took a long swallow of water before replying. “What happened to your dinner service?”
“I gave them the night off. I can handle a simple stir-fry, you know.” He paused to take a sip of red wine from a glass at his elbow before letting his eyes stray back to Caleb. “Everything go okay? No problems at the monument?”
Caleb eased into a chair at the breakfast table. “She didn’t see my name, if that’s what you mean.” He’d managed to get through the whole day without a headache, but a faint twinge spread at the base of his neck. His muscles tightened across his back as tension leeched beneath his skin. Dropping his eyes, he picked at the label on the clear bottle in his hand. Plastic. Yet another reminder of how far he was from home.
“What do you think of Arianna, Winston?”
He’d lived with his nephew for three years, but rarely conversed with him as a friend. They talked and argued, even bantered occasionally, but Caleb kept a deliberate line between them. He’d spent too many years distancing himself from his troops, befitting his rank, his circle of friends limited. And then there was Seth, whose betrayal had destroyed his belief in friendship, making him reluctant to open up to anyone, Wyn included.
“You’re not getting attached to her, are you?” Wyn shuffled the carrots aside and pulled a head of broccoli onto his cutting board.
“I don’t know.” It was as close as Caleb would come to admitting his feelings. The more time he spent with her, the more he wanted to spend. Remaining casual when she was nearby grew more difficult. He’d spent three years in the present, but still wasn’t accustomed to the sight of a woman in shorts. He wasn’t even comfortable enough to wear the ridiculous half-pants himself. When she’d shown up in the parking lot, dressed in so little clothing, it was all he could do to keep his eyes off her. The skimpy shorts and snug tank top were practically obscene. Not that he minded. He just didn’t want every other man lusting after her the way he did.
“I met one of Arianna’s friends today,” Wyn announced, still working at the broccoli. Caleb watched as he fed the fatter part of the stalk into something he called a garbage disposal. “Her name’s Lauren Talbot. I ran into her at a cafe and
happened to overhear her mention Arianna’s name to an acquaintance.”
“Lauren?” Caleb sat straighter. “The Lauren she mentioned the other evening?”
Wyn nodded. “They grew up together, best of friends. Like you and Seth.”
“Not like me and Seth. I ruined Seth’s life and now he’s ruined mine.”
“You did not ruin that bastard’s life,” Wyn snapped. The knife came down on the board with a loud thwack, sending pieces of broccoli flying in all directions. With a perturbed sigh, Wyn turned his attention from the vegetables, angling his hip against the counter to face Caleb. “What happened to Seth was a result of war. He was injured in battle.”
“It was my decision to put him in charge of that scouting party.” Caleb fingered the gash on his neck, a grisly reminder of Crinkeshaw. “It wasn’t his place. He was an officer.”
“Already bitter because you outranked him by a grade. Your sergeant was sick with dysentery, one step from death’s door, your corporal felled by a leg wound at Bull Run. Who else were you going to send? You were a major at the time, Caleb, the highest-ranking officer in your troop. I might not know about warfare, but even I know the ranking officer is too valuable for scouting duty.”
“We’re getting off the subject.” Caleb preferred not to dwell on the past. “I was talking about Arianna.”
Wyn joined him at the table. “I know you’re attracted to her, but aside from the fact you turn into a werewolf every twenty-nine days…” He grinned to ease the sting of the observation. “You don’t belong here. What happens when you find your way back to your own time? I know it’s been three years, but it’s not fair to involve Arianna in a relationship without a future.”
Caleb looked away. Wyn was right, but that didn’t miraculously erase his longing for the dark-haired schoolteacher. “Maybe I just need to find a tavern and a woman who wants to sleep with me,” he mumbled. “Get these damn sexual urges out of my head. It probably has nothing to do with Arianna.”
Wyn studied him evenly. “So when are you seeing her again?”
Caleb frowned. After three years, his nephew knew him well. “Wednesday night. I’m helping her paint her living room.”
* * * *
Arianna snuggled into her couch, pulling the first of several books she’d purchased in Gettysburg onto her lap. Some were by local authors, a few self-published. In addition, she’d bought a large pictorial of the war, but was saving that to pour over when she had more time.
After dropping Caleb at Weathering Rock, she’d returned home and thrown together a quick dinner of pasta with a garden salad. She was thankful Caleb hadn’t invited her out or suggested they continue their evening. She’d enjoyed the day with him, but wanted time to collect her thoughts.
She was falling fast, and that upset her. Already, she’d arranged to see him again, promising to feed him if he’d help tackle her living room with the paint she’d purchased two weeks ago. She’d told herself it was no big deal, a casual get-together between friends. So what if she spent a few hours with an attractive man who knew how to push all of her buttons? It was a paint party, nothing more.
She flopped back against the couch. Who was she kidding? It was a date, and she looked forward to it like a kid at Christmas. Every time she tried to tell herself her interest in Caleb was platonic, physical magnetism intervened. When it came down to it, the man turned her insides to jelly. If he kissed her again the way he had the other night, she doubted she could resist. Not that she was entirely sure she wanted to.
The ringing phone jarred her from her thoughts.
She snatched up the handset. “Hello?”
Lauren clucked across the line. “Okay, what am I interrupting? You sound breathless, Ari. I want details.”
“What?” She gave a shaky laugh. “I was reading.”
She could almost see her friend’s sly look of disbelief. “Something good, I hope.”
“That depends. How does Famous Battles of the Civil War sound?”
“Incredibly boring. I should have known you couldn’t go to Gettysburg without picking up a few books. How’d it go today? I hope the blond god behaved himself in front of the kiddies.”
“He was a perfect gentleman.” Poise back in place, Arianna grinned. “But I did catch him ogling my legs. You’d have thought the man never saw a woman in shorts.”
“Did you ogle back?”
“Only when he wasn’t looking.”
“Was he wearing shorts?”
“No, jeans. But trust me–they were worth ogling.” She blushed as she said it, remembering how well the faded denim had complimented Caleb’s narrow waist, long muscular legs and firm backside.
Lauren laughed in delight. “You’re thinking about his butt, aren’t you?”
“Lauren!”
“Don’t try that Polly Purebread routine on me. I know you too well, Arianna Jane Hart, and you were thinking about his butt.” Her voice lowered, growing crafty. “So, tell me, how does it rate on a Richter scale of one to ten?”
Arianna accepted defeat. “Fifteen.”
“God, you’re smitten.”
“I am not.”
“With a capital S, girlfriend, but I’ll join you. Guess who I met today?”
“Who?” Lauren hooking up with a guy was news. Her friend hadn’t seriously dated anyone since her marriage with Rick dissolved.
“Oh, just a certain dark-haired doctor who lives on Blackberry Lane.”
Arianna bolted upright. “You met Wyn?”
“Tire-slasher extraordinaire. For a thug, he’s charming.”
Arianna’s mind was reeling. “Where did you meet him?”
“The cafe next to my shop.”
Lauren proceeded to relay how she and one of her employees had gone next door for a cup of coffee. Wyn had overhead her mention Arianna’s name and had taken the opportunity to introduce himself.
“We ended up chatting for over an hour after Cathy left. I think we should invite Wyn and your blond Adonis to my costume party.”
The thought had already crossed Arianna’s mind.
“I don’t know. Let me think about it. Caleb and I are just friends, and I don’t want to send the wrong signal.”
Lauren pshawed the whole objection into the phone. “Rick’s going to show up with some twenty-year-old airhead clinging to his arm. I’d love to upstage him and parade around with a gorgeous doctor on mine.”
Arianna grinned. “So you think Wyn is gorgeous?”
She sensed her friend smiling wickedly. “I think he’s hot enough to look handsome in a bunny suit. Maybe I can talk him into coming to the party dressed as a pirate. Tight pants, gaping shirt. Fawn all over me and tick off Rick.”
Arianna giggled, mentally picturing Wyn as a dashing swashbuckler in skintight black pants and a billowing white shirt gaping to his navel. She tried the image out on Caleb and felt her pulse rocket into the stratosphere.
“Ari? Are you listening?”
“Mmm-hmm.” She flushed. Maybe inviting Caleb to the costume party wasn’t such a bad idea. “Why do you care about Rick anyway? You’re just friends.”
“That doesn’t mean I can’t score points.” Lauren’s grin came through in her voice. “The man’s always absorbed in something. If it isn’t a woman, it’s a development project. I swear everything he touches turns to gold. The Sagehill Business Journal ran a front-page article on him a few days ago and he’s all puffed up about it. Just once I’d like to upstage him. Which is why I plan to show up with Wyn DeCardian on my arm. And I think you should bring Caleb. I’d like to meet him.”
“We’ll see.” It wasn’t agreement exactly, but close enough. Before the week was out, Arianna knew she’d follow through and invite Caleb to the party.
* * * *
Caleb understood painting, but paint was no longer formulated the way it had been in his day. He got a crash course from Wyn before showing up at Arianna’s townhouse Wednesday evening. Wyn dropped him off, and then headed
out on a rendezvous of his own. He wouldn’t say who he was meeting, but Caleb suspected his nephew had a date with Lauren Talbot.
Arianna had already taped up all of the edging by the time he arrived so he didn’t have to show his ignorance over something so basic. He made some inane comment about the color she’d picked–a pale celery green–as an excuse to keep his eyes off her legs.
She was dressed in shorts again, navy blue this time with an orange t-shirt. It hung loosely over her waist, leaving only the hem of her shorts visible. It made them seem even skimpier, her long legs gloriously displayed in a pair of low cut sandals with strappy amber tops.
Flip-flops, Wyn called them.
Caleb thought it a nonsensical, foppish name. At the moment, he couldn’t imagine why, seeing how sultry the silly things made her legs look.
“Caleb?”
He jerked, flustered to be caught staring.
“I asked if you’d like some wine.” Arianna smiled.
He nodded, not trusting his voice. Damn the woman for catching him in the middle of eyeing her legs! He’d told Wyn he was going to forget about her and indulge in a night of mindless sex with someone he picked up in a bar, but hadn’t been able to do either. He thought about her during the day, imagining the scent of her perfume–an exotic tangle of calla lily and lotus flower that made his head reel. He longed to delve his hands into the thick black waterfall of her hair and plunder the inviting bow of her mouth. If he didn’t get release soon, he was going to explode.
“The wine’s over there.” Arianna directed him to a small dry bar in the corner of her dining room. A bottle of Chardonnay was already chilling in a silver ice bucket. “Would you mind opening the bottle? I’d like a glass too.”
He slanted a wary glance at the silver. The next full moon was three weeks away, but the sight of bright metal always made him uneasy. “What are you cooking? It smells good.” He looked for a corkscrew but saw only a bottle opener, one of the ludicrous newfangled contraptions with a fancy designer name on the side. He picked it up doubtfully, noting it looked more suited for a surgical hospital than a bar. The damn thing even had wings!