by Mae Clair
“That’s probably not a good idea. At least not until Winston simmers down. And if you’re looking for your purse, it’s in the parlor. Come on.” He offered his arm. “We need to say good morning to my nephew.”
* * * *
Arianna had no idea why Wyn was annoyed, but it was clear from the moment she entered the kitchen he was not in a friendly mood. A scorpion would have been a better sparring partner.
“Good morning, Winston,” Caleb greeted casually.
Standing at the counter, savagely buttering an English muffin, the doctor shot a glare over his shoulder. No grand scale breakfast waited this morning, no griddle of scrambled eggs or heaping platter of bacon. Even the coffeepot was empty. “I suppose you told her everything?”
Anxious, Arianna looked at Caleb.
“I told her the obvious,” her blond-haired lover replied carefully, selectively choosing his words. “I told her about Seth. About how I ended up here. Not about curses.”
Curses? Arianna frowned, sensing something nonverbal between them.
Wyn’s glower didn’t soften, but he relaxed marginally.
“I don’t know why you’re so upset,” she commented to the darker man.
He scowled, slathering more butter on the toasted muffin. “Nothing against you, Ari, but I wish Caleb would think things through before spilling his guts. He hasn’t considered the consequences.”
“Don’t be so damnably pessimistic.” Caleb waved the observation aside and headed for the coffeepot. The carafe sat empty on an ice-cold burner. “No coffee?”
“No, Uncle.” Wyn slapped the butter knife on the counter with a resounding thwap. “There’s no damn coffee. If you want it, make it yourself. You want to be self-sufficient, make your own decisions, live in this century? Fine! The next time you need to go somewhere, get your ass behind a wheel and drive there. And as for those daily injections–”
“That’s enough!”
Arianna flinched, taken aback by the angry whip-crack of Caleb’s voice. Wyn immediately clamped his mouth shut, glaring defiantly.
It took Caleb a second to compose himself but, when he spoke, he was controlled. “You’re behaving reprehensibly, Winston. You owe Arianna an apology. What makes you think she wouldn’t keep my confidence?”
“It’s not that.” Wyn stepped away, agitatedly pawing the back of his neck as he struggled to collect himself. “I’m sorry, Arianna,” he mumbled with a guilty glance. “You must have a low opinion of me. First the tire, now this. I just don’t want you getting hurt. I’m sure you understand how difficult Caleb’s situation is. Having the two of you emotionally involved complicates matters. The best thing he could have done was stay away from you.”
“I don’t believe that.” Arianna linked her arm through Caleb’s in a show of affection and support. “I don’t know why you think this changes anything, Wyn. I’m certainly not going to broadcast what I know on the six o’clock news or post a video on YouTube.”
“That’s not what I mean.”
“Then maybe you should explain.” And what was that he’d said about daily injections? Something to do with the instability of Caleb’s health?
At her side, Caleb wrapped an arm around her shoulders, bending to brush a kiss against her hair. “He doesn’t mean to be difficult, sweetheart. He’s an opinionated cuss. It comes with having DeCardian blood.”
Wyn glared. “Well, at least you included yourself in that crass generality. Uncle. Colonel. Sir!”
Caleb kept his lips against Arianna’s hair. “He only calls me ‘uncle’ when he’s annoyed.” He pitched his voice just loud enough for Wyn to hear. “Adding ‘Colonel’ and ‘Sir’ means he’d like to teach me a lesson.” He grinned brashly, in a playfully baiting mood. “As if he could.”
“Will you two stop?” Arianna wrenched away and stomped in Wyn’s direction, halting between them. “You’re acting like school kids spoiling for a fight. You might be uncle and nephew, however many times removed, but you act more like squabbling brothers.” Lodging her hands on her hips, she glared at Wyn. “You need to realize that even if Caleb is at a disadvantage, in a strange century and needs your help, he’s used to being in charge. Of making command decisions without having his judgment questioned.”
“Exactly,” Caleb said behind her.
“And you!”
His smug smile of satisfaction died a quick death when she rounded on him.
“You need to realize Wyn has a better understanding of the way things operate in this century. I don’t care if you have been adapting for three years, you can’t even open a bottle of wine without help. Maybe in the past everyone jumped when you gave an order, but the Union is no longer at war. People work together, Caleb.”
“I didn’t realize I was an incompetent burden.”
She rolled her eyes. “You’re infuriating! You know damn well that’s not what I meant. All I’m saying is…” She looked between the two, hoping to make them understand. “You’re in this together. And in case you’ve forgotten, it’s become more complicated. You shouldn’t be worrying about me. You should be thinking about Rick Rothrock.”
“She’s right.” Caleb sagged against the counter with a passably conciliatory glance. “He is my father.”
“Information overload.” Wyn held up a hand to forestall the conversation. “It’s too early in the morning for this shit. I had five hours of sleep and am in no mood to discuss your convoluted parentage.” He slapped the butter-saturated muffin on a fresh paper plate. “I’m going out back. Pretend I’m not here. It shouldn’t be too hard, considering you did an excellent job of it last night.”
Ouch! Arianna watched as he left the kitchen. “He really is irritated by this.”
“He’s irritated because I trusted you with something he didn’t expect.” Caleb shook his head, strangely pensive. “He’s looked out for me for three years, and I’m not certain I’ve ever thanked him.”
* * * *
Caleb walked Arianna to her car, kissed her goodbye with a promise to see her the next day, then immediately headed to the back of the house. He’d no sooner stepped onto the porch than Wyn held up a hand to forestall their inevitable confrontation.
“Don’t start with me.” Slouched in a cushioned wicker chair by a patio table, Caleb’s nephew looked anything but agreeable. His wavy hair was rumpled, wilder than usual, and creases of shadow ringed the undersides of his eyes. The butter-slathered English muffin sat cold and untouched at his elbow, growing colder still. “I’m tired, my head hurts for a change, and I don’t feel like arguing.”
“That wasn’t my intention.” Deciding he owed it to Wyn to remain levelheaded, Caleb leaned against the porch railing and braced himself with a hand on either side of his hips. “What did you expect would happen if I kept seeing her? Did you think my feelings would vanish?”
Wyn looked away. “I expected you to be responsible with a secret I’ve protected for three years. At the risk of my career.”
Caleb flinched. He knew he deserved the remark, probably worse. What had he risked for Wyn in return? The choices he made didn’t affect only him, but his nephew too.
“She’d already figured it out.”
“She’s a loose end.” Wyn’s gaze swiveled back, cutting and diamond hard in the bright haze of morning. “What happens to Arianna when you get zapped back to 1863? Suppose all this time you haven’t been able to return because Seth is the catalyst? You think that explosion of ball lightning last night was coincidental? Now that he’s here…” He leaned forward in the chair, narrowing his eyes. “You do still want to go back, don’t you?”
Caleb hedged. “I…”
In the past, it had never been an issue. He’d felt out of place, trapped in a time where he didn’t belong. Now there was Arianna, even Wyn, people he’d come to care about despite his reluctance to admit those attachments.
“And you’re forgetting something else.” On a roll, Wyn stood, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he cast C
aleb a dark glower. “There’s still your problem with full moons. As in there’s one tonight, damn it! You might have told Arianna who you are, but you didn’t tell her what you are, because you knew it would have scared the hell out of her.”
“If I’d told her, it would have only complicated matters. Enough, Winston. This isn’t what I wanted to discuss.”
Caleb shifted, troubled by his nephew’s pointed remarks. As much as he wanted to deny it, Wyn had struck a nerve. He hadn’t told Arianna about the curse of the werewolf because he’d feared her feelings would change. How could any woman love a man who turned into a murderous beast every twenty-nine days, driven by carnal instinct and bloodlust? He hated what he was. How could he expect her to do any less?
“I want to talk about Rick Rothrock.”
Wyn frowned. “Another loose thread. How the hell did he get mixed up in this, anyway?” With a shake of his head, he slumped into his chair. “You better tell me everything you know about Rothrock. Starting with why all hell broke loose when you touched him.”
Chapter 20
Still flying high after the romantic night she’d spent with Caleb, Arianna wandered inside her townhome, dropped her purse on the coffee table and crossed to the patio doors. The vertical blinds whisked to the side with a single pull of the drawstring.
“Oh!” She took a hasty step backward propelled by a panicky surge of alarm, unprepared for the sight of a man slumped in her rattan rocking chair. “Rick?” Once she realized who it was, her pulse skidded to normal. She fumbled with the lock and slid open the door.
He blinked in her direction, alerted by the noise, his eyes red-veined and blank. She thought he was drunk until she realized he probably hadn’t slept since the day before. Still dressed for Lauren’s party, he’d discarded his jacket somewhere but wore the same green silk shirt and black-and-white striped pants. The Polaroid snapshot Cathy had taken at the party was clutched in his hands.
“Hey.” He managed a feeble smile, followed by a half-hearted shrug. “I didn’t know where else to go.”
She perched in the chair adjacent to him, tugging Caleb’s shirt closer to conceal her bunny outfit. Suddenly self-conscious over the skimpy attire, she was thankful for the loan of her lover’s shirt. Rick was oblivious to her discomfort, his eyes glued to the photograph.
Arianna followed his gaze, noting Lauren, Wyn, herself and Rick in the snapshot. Caleb stood in the center, half turned from the camera, his face in profile, all white-gold hair and sharp features. She wet her lips apprehensively and eased the picture from Rick’s fingers. “He’s a handsome man.” No need to mention names.
The corner of his mouth lifted in a phantom smile. “He’s my son. At least I think he is.” Shock, pride and awed confusion spilled through in his voice.
She hadn’t been prepared for his directness. A lemony square of sunlight was splayed at her feet, but she felt chilled. Somewhere in the distance a lawnmower rumbled to life and a dog barked.
“How…” She swallowed hard, feeling like she stepped on the coattails of a dream. “How did you–”
“When he touched me.” Rick shook his head, spreading his hands as if that would help him understand. “I felt the connection when our eyes met, and then…” He gave a short, choked laugh. “I don’t get it, Ari. I woke up yesterday morning the same as always, I go to a party, and suddenly I’m confronted by my adult son. A man who is probably my age or older. Shit!” He plunged his face in his hands, thrusting his fingers into his hair. “I’ve got all these images in my head. They’ve got to be hallucinations, right? Lauren did something. Something to trick me. It’s all a joke. It’s got to be! Somehow this man…” He tapped a finger against the photo. “He must have injected me with something. A drug, or–hell, I don’t know. It can’t fucking be real!”
“Rick, calm down.” She gripped his wrist. “I know it seems impossible, but you have to realize what you’re suggesting is just as absurd. Lauren didn’t trick you. She’d never do anything so cruel, and Caleb certainly didn’t inject you. How could any drug be so instantaneous? As insane as it seems, those are memories in your head, experiences you had in another century. I’m not talking about a past life or reincarnation. You went back in time. Deep down, you know that.”
“Shit!”
He tried to lurch away, but she held fast, determined to make him face the truth. In the past he’d been nothing more than a casual friend, Lauren’s self-centered ex. Suddenly, he was the father of the man she loved. “I don’t understand all of it myself, but–”
“No.” He thrust from the chair and paced to the edge of the patio, nervous energy rolling off him in waves. “You’re asking me to believe the impossible.”
“I’m asking you to believe what you already know inside. You can’t tell me you don’t have feelings for your wife. Your sons. For Caleb.”
“God, Isabel. Charles.” He gave a tortured groan, and bowed his head to his hand. “Caleb.” His voice trailed into a fractured whisper. “I thought he was dead.”
Arianna held her breath. “Then you do believe? You remember.”
“Yeeess.” He drew the word out in a reluctant hiss, tilting his head back as he looked up at the sky in resigned supplication. “Part of me doesn’t want to believe and part is terrified it might be a dream. That the wife and family I remember and love could be nothing more than a cruel delusion.” Moving swiftly, he strode to her side and snatched the picture from her hand. He clutched it tightly, drinking in the sight.
“When Caleb gripped my arm at the party, it opened a conduit between us. I was flooded with the memories and feelings of the Rick Rothrock who went back in time, of the man who became Richard DeCardian. I remember meeting Caleb’s mother, Isabel, and falling in love. I remember Caleb’s birth, and then later being in my sixties, fearing the war would claim him.”
Arianna stared, riveted to every word. She was petrified to move, for fear of breaking the spell that had him talking so freely.
“Am I crazy?” Rick raised his head, his eyes haunted by memories only he could see. Slowly, he eased into the rocker. “I wish I knew what to feel. I miss her so much. And Caleb…we feared he’d been taken to Libby prison.”
Arianna was unnerved by the change in the man across from her. He didn’t sound remotely like the egotistical Rick Rothrock she’d known for the last several years. Even his speech had changed, sporadically taking on an old-fashioned cadence. He was as tall and as blond as his son and, now that she looked closely, they shared the same river-blue eyes. His features were not as classically defined as Caleb’s, his nose a bit broader and his jaw square, but he had the same quick smile with the same annoyingly overconfident edge.
Like father, like son.
“Rick, please. I need to know what you remember. I’m in love with Caleb.”
“I thought you were. I’ve got no choice but to believe this, even if scares the hell out of me. I tried most of the night to convince myself it was a twisted fantasy but, in my heart, I know it’s real.” He paused, digesting the reality. “Who else knows about Caleb? Does Lauren?”
“No.” Arianna gave a quick shake of her head. “Only his nephew. You met him at the party, Wyn DeCardian. He’s a direct descendant through Charles. For the sake of appearance, they pose as brothers. Wyn has been looking after Caleb and protecting him for the last three years. That’s how long he’s been in our century.”
It suddenly dawned on her that if Caleb had been troubled by health complications when he was younger, Rick would know. Except that Rick was here now, which meant Caleb couldn’t have been born because his father hadn’t gone back in time. Yet.
Or had he? She was getting a headache thinking about it.
“At least I know I’m not entirely demented.” Rick slumped in the rocker, tucking the snapshot into his pocket. “You believe me.”
She nodded. “It couldn’t have been easy for you, remembering like that.”
“Apocalyptic. I don’t belong here. Not an
y longer, Ari.”
“What do you mean?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” He tugged at his shirt, popping the buttons over his throat as if hemmed in by the restriction. “I have the memories of two people. Rick Rothrock and Richard DeCardian. All of my life, I’ve been haunted by dreams of the only woman I ever truly loved. It’s why I couldn’t stay with Lauren, why I’ve never been happy with anyone else. I thought she was a figment of my imagination. Now I realize she’s Caleb’s mother, Isabel.”
Arianna felt a shiver scuttle up her spine. If it weren’t for the lawnmower humming in the distance, she might have thought she was trapped in a waking dream. “I remember you told me about her once before, only you didn’t know who she was.”
He gave a crude snort of laughter. “Drunk out of my head, you mean. I always appreciated that you didn’t throw that back in my face. You have no idea how much I love that woman.”
“I think I can relate.” Embarrassed, she looked down, plucking at the cording on the lime green cushion beneath her legs.
“Caleb.” Rick chuckled softly. “It’s not hard to understand why. He’s always been his own man. I can’t tell you how often we butted heads. Hell, I sound crazy talking like this!”
“No, please. Tell me what you remember.”
“Fair enough. I guess I owe you that much, since you didn’t call 9-1-1 for the psych ward.” He drew a breath, pausing to collect himself before moving ahead. He seemed less agitated than when she’d first stepped onto the patio, but he was still operating on nerves.
“I remember walking somewhere near Weathering Rock. It didn’t exist then, if you can believe that’s possible. I’m not a theorist, so you’d have to get someone else to explain time loops and anomalies and how I can be here with Caleb, when I haven’t gone backward in time yet. At least I don’t think I have. I get the feeling that’s somewhere in the future, in a reality that hasn’t happened yet. Anyway, I got caught up in a freak shower of ball lightning, like last night at Lauren’s party. The next thing I knew I was lying on my back and she was there bending over me, asking if I was all right–the woman from my dreams. Everything was different. No condos, strip malls, gas stations or cars. Just fields and pastureland as far as I could see. When she asked my name, I said the first thing that popped into my head. Survival instinct. You don’t get where I am in business without knowing how to play games.”