by Kim Hornsby
However, I had to remember that he might not even know who I am yet. I might have landed at a time when I hadn’t yet saved him in the bay. My incident of traveling back in time to rescue Caspian from drowning could fall anywhere in this holey timeline. Seeing he died shortly after the ball, I was pretty sure this scene was either another time or earlier in that same evening. Then I remembered.
This formal clothing was not what Caspian had been wearing when I’d saved him in the bay. He’d been in the clothes he wore as a ghost.
I tried to follow my mother around the room, greeting people we both apparently knew, while my grandmother found a chair and was given a small glass of something to drink. But keeping my eyes off Caspian was difficult. My mother had warned me to control my feelings and had called him my patient. I’m sure I wasn’t a doctor or nurse, seeing I could hardly stay conscious at the sight of blood. The trick was to just shut up and listen at this shindig.
As we moved around the room, various people greeted us, calling me Rachel and my mother Sara. We were Primroses, that was for sure and seeing I’d recently found out that my real Grandma Primrose’s mother was from the Portland area, I assumed I was related to those Primroses and long ago we knew the man who owned this house. Shortly after getting a glass of the punch which tasted like terrible lemonade, a tall man with sandy blonde hair and a curling moustache approached us, his eyes on me.
“Rachel,” he said fondly. “I’m so happy to see you again. It seems every time your daughter visits, we have an event of some sort.” He and my mother laughed, and I smiled politely. If only the two people in front of me knew how hard it was for me to keep my badass character inside my body, surrounded by all these manners and decorum.
“Not at all,” I said, hoping that would cover whatever happened last time I visited this place.
The man, who was dressed pretty spiffy and smelled like whiskey, gestured to Caspian across the room. “You can see your care produced a fully recovered patient.”
My gaze followed the direction of the man’s upturned hand and verified that it was Caspian he meant. Luckily my mother intervened.
“Rachel was only too glad to help when the Captain was injured. Were you not, Rachel?”
“That is true,” I said, wondering if conjunctions had been invented yet. “Happy to help.” I nodded and smiled, hoping more information was on its way.
“Captain Cortez might have suffered a longer recovery or none at all if Rachel hadn’t found him in the foyer that night,” the man said.
I now believed the man in front of us was Thomas Stevens, the owner of the house and Jacqueline’s lover. From what I knew about Caspian’s injury, if it was the same one, he’d been stabbed by his wife in the mural bedroom. So why was Stevens doing a big ol’ TMI and telling my mother I’d found him in the foyer? And why did he look my way and hold my gaze a titch too long?
“I did what anyone would have done,” I said.
I felt a presence behind me and turned to see Caspian had joined us. I almost did have the vapors to see my hunky boyfriend standing next to me, but instead kept my cool and smiled at him the way a lady in this century would. No wiggling eyebrows, no licking of the lips, just a sweet, demure smile.
“Miss Primrose, may I say you don’t look like a nursemaid tonight,” he dipped his chin, took my gloved hand and laid a kiss on the fabric.
Next to me, I heard my mother take in enough air to almost be considered a mini-gasp. But then, the Captain turned to her and said something similar, leaving me to believe that this was how they talked back in the olden days.
“And Madame Primrose. It’s a pleasure to see you again. The three Primrose women are certainly commanding the room tonight.”
My mother had the wherewithal to blush and smile at Caspian. Apparently, all mothers loved his charm. Watching this show, I wondered if my relationship with this man in both centuries was based on his need for me to help him, a thought I’d conveniently pushed from my mind when I went to sleep earlier in 2019.
It had been a strange bedtime in the present.
After all the stolen kisses that day at Cove House I’d expected some fun between the sheets when Caspian and I retired to my bedroom. But when we got to the room, Caspian seemed hesitant to start something beyond a goodnight kiss and suggested we try to control our feelings. Something was bothering him and as I brushed my teeth, I struggled to recall the evening. He’d been different ever since my mother had said the Portland Primroses were a bunch of stuck up psychics. Caspian had done a double take at my mother and it was after that, he seemed lost in thought. While walking upstairs to bed he’d asked about my ancestors and I said I had a grandmother in Seattle and her mother had come from Portland, originally.
Rejecting my affections at bedtime was strange, especially with Caspian lying to say nothing was wrong. “I’m sure it’s to your benefit to get some sleep,” he’d said.
My feelings had been hurt and after looking in the bathroom mirror to examine the long scar down my face, I wondered if his reasoning had anything to do with that. I’d gone to sleep with him lying beside me, inches away, fully clothed, on top of the covers. I fell into dreams wondering if Caspian knew his physical limitations as a ghost and just couldn’t tell me his parts didn’t all work.
Next mirror I passed at this shindig at Cove House in the 1850’s, I intended to take a look and see what I looked like if everyone thought I was someone else. When some dude entered the room and announced the dancing would commence, we headed upstairs to the second floor where I was surprised to see that the two large bedrooms at the front of the house in 2019 were now one long room with benches along the wall and a raised dais for the musicians. A long mirror was hung along one wall and I steered my mother that way so I could get a look at Rachel. The room was lit by wall lanterns and the windows were wide open to the sea in front. If everyone started dancing and I ended up doing the Macarena or the Electric Slide I was sure I’d be found out as either an imposter or a lunatic. I hoped no one asked me to dance because my style was not demure or polite.
Hooked to my new mother, I walked to the far end of the room, where the mirror hung, my eyes on Caspian who had a young lady on his arm ahead of us. All the eye daggers I shot to that female did not make her disengage from Caspian’s arm until he delivered her to a group of friends and bowed his farewell.
I shot a quick glance to the mirror to see what Rachel looked like and was shocked to see my face looking back at me. Without Frankenscar. The way I looked a year earlier when my face was relatively flawless. I wanted to study my reflection, see if my ears were pierced, or if I had the tiny scar from Ricky Movado throwing a rock at me in the fourth grade, but I couldn’t think how to stand there and examine my face without looking strange.
I turned to my mother who had a question mark over her head.
“I felt a little flushed,” I said.
“Staring at yourself in the mirror at a ball…”
She didn’t need to finish the sentence. I guess I spent more time examining my face than I should have.
It was at that moment that I noticed Caspian again, scanning the room, searching for something or someone, and when he noticed I was staring back at him, we locked eyes. I did not look away like a woman of that time period probably should. Instead I tipped my head slightly, in question. Inside, I was saying “How well do you know me, Caspian?”
When his lips curled slightly in that grin he has when he’s flirting with me, I knew we weren’t just patient and nurse.
Chapter 4
Back in the 1850’s, there was no such thing as announcing you had to pee and would be right back. I wondered how I could leave the room alone and see if Caspian followed. If I was time traveling with the mission to fix something, I had no idea what it was, but it must’ve had something to do with Caspian. If I had the opportunity to speak to him alone, I wanted to see if he knew me as Bryndle or as this Rachel who looked exactly like me.
The dancing commence
d and although I didn’t know how to do these minuets and waltzes, I was able to fake it for a bit.
If the real Rachel was influencing my actions, I was grateful because I did not step on anyone’s toes out on the dance floor and was able to do what the other ladies beside me were doing. My swishy dress was fun to dance in as long as I didn’t end up doing any high kicks or start break dancing on the floor. Although the tight bodice and cinched waist was uncomfortable, the skirt was full like I was wearing a princess dress-up costume and the skirt even trailed behind me when I walked. I wore a little cape thing over my shoulders, hiding my exposed neckline and my hair was in ringlets, which I happened to think looked stupid but must’ve been the fashion. I assumed I looked fine because several of the ladies who were dressed like me commented on my beautiful dress even though we all looked basically the same in our long dresses with a similar hairdo.
An hour into the shindig, I saw Caspian and Stevens disengage from a conversation and head for the door. Caspian was only steps behind Stevens, and I wondered what was going on. They both looked angry, ready to duel. I took a chance and turned to my mother. “The room is warm. I think I’ll step into the hall for a bit,” I said, hoping that wasn’t something totally ludicrous for Rachel to say.
My mother smiled and continued her conversation with the woman next to her about their menu plans for summer meals. I swished my way past the mirror, still looking like me but in silly ringlets, and entered the hall in time to see Stevens enter a bedroom farther along the hall. No Caspian. I moved to the staircase where several men stood talking and saw the tail of Caspian’s coat at the bottom of the stairs, turn a corner. He appeared to be alone. I headed down.
At the bottom of the staircase, I saw Caspian disappear down the hall towards what I knew as the den. I followed, not knowing what I was doing or what I’d say when I caught up to this man.
Turns out, I didn’t need to know what to say because as soon as I entered the dark den, I was swooped up in Caspian’s arms, plastered against the wall and kissed like my life depended on being ravished. With Caspian’s tongue down my throat, I gave myself over to the knowledge that this wasn’t the first time he’d done this with old-timey Rachel, and I was pretty sure he’d been leading me to privacy for this purpose, just now.
I participated, my hands running up his chest to his unshaven face, our breathing hot and heavy in the silence of the room.
“I missed you,” Caspian whispered against my lips between kisses.
“And I, you,” I said hoping I sounded old-timey. Although I wanted more information about our relationship, I could hardly think with Caspian’s hard body up against me, pressing me into the wall, his insisting kisses going deeper. And then his hands were on my bodice heading for an area I wasn’t sure my old-timey mother would approve of. Were we going to do the nasty deed here in the den? I wasn’t sure, but I was up for it, seeing the ghost of Caspian had shrugged me off at bedtime earlier and I’d had this very activity on my mind all day in 2019.
I let him lead seeing I had no recollection of what Rachel’s relationship was with Caspian beside nursing him back to health after Jacqueline stabbed him. I assumed that was the injury Stevens had been talking about. I hoped Caspian hadn’t made a habit out of being stabbed.
We panted and pawed each other, up against the wall and I let Caspian have his way with me like the modern woman I was. According to what Caspian whispered against my bosom and neck, we’d done this before and didn’t have much time. Also, he said something about setting sail and I assumed this was our goodbye.
“I love you Rachel,” he said as I reached that tip of the mountain and fell off the other side, digging my fingers into his shoulders.
When it was over, I realized there was no such thing as birth control and wondered if my moment of weakness would sentence Rachel to a life with a child out of wedlock. Fine time to think of that as Caspian and I stood clutching each other, breathing heavily in the darkness of the den.
He pulled my skirt down and kissed my forehead. “I will take that with me on my journey, my love.”
I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t want to betray Rachel if I suddenly popped back to 2019 and she found herself in a compromising position. Caspian’s next words both shocked me and answered my question about birth control.
“I’ll be back for you long before the birth of the baby, Rachel. Are you sure you want this life with me?” He held my face in his hands, his face serious, his eyes deep pools of yearning.
“I’m sure.”
So, Rachel was already pregnant! But my waist was pulled tight. If Caspian hadn’t seen Rachel in a while, I wondered how pregnant she was.
We hugged tightly and after some instructions on what Rachel should do tomorrow, Caspian was gone, out the door of what he called the library.
It was then that I woke up in my bed in 2019 to realize I was blind again. Caspian was gone in this century too.
At first, I wondered if Caspian had simply gone wandering around the house. Goodness knows, he probably wanted to get away from accompanying me everywhere and then watching me sleep. How interesting could it be watching someone breathe in and out, eyes closed, for hours on end? I wouldn’t blame him if that was the case.
Checking the time, Cortana told me it was just after one a.m. in her robotic voice and because we’d gone to bed just after midnight, I calculated that time traveling didn’t take up the same amount of time. I’d been gone for hours but it was only minutes later.
“Caspian?” I said to the darkness, hoping he didn’t answer. Had he been in the room, and I still couldn’t see, it would be either because his ability to restore my sight was gone or the room was actually pitch dark. I’d gone to sleep with the light on, though, and I could still hear tiny pops from the dying fire across the room even though I could see nothing.
Sleep finally claimed me and I gave in, knowing if Caspian returned, I’d see when I woke.
If he didn’t, I was screwed.
Chapter 5
My mother and I were headed to Floatville for two days. Rachel had business to attend to, signing some papers, she said, although I think she was simply bored at Cove House, and I wanted to visit my grandmother to ask her what she knew about the Portland Primroses. I hadn’t told my mother this.
Caspian hadn’t returned, I’d been blind for several days, and although Carlos had come out of hiding with the absence of Moonraker and Moody Investigations had uploaded a new episode that was trending, I was a mental mess trying to understand my tie-in to this Rachel Primrose who’d gotten pregnant by Caspian.
I was jealous of her for one thing. She’d captured Caspian’s heart and that probably meant the ghost of Caspian was only interested in me because I resembled Rachel. That cut like a knife through my heart, to coin a phrase that fit my mood.
The last few days, I’d gone over and over the conversations I’d had with Caspian and everything supported that it was not exactly me he was in love with. When we’d first met in 2019, he’d been shocked my short hair was tipped in color, shocked I wore “manly” clothes, shocked I had a grotesque scar, that I swore like sailor, acted like a young boy, and seemed to surprise him anytime I acted like Bryndle Tallulah Primrose.
The pieces of the Caspian puzzle were snapping into place now and I didn’t like what I was seeing. Caspian had loved Rachel in 1850 and I looked like Rachel. My poor ego was lying in the fetal position in a dark cave, quivering, wondering why I wasn’t good enough for someone I loved with all my heart. Or, at least, I thought I did.
When I talked to Eve about this conundrum, because we pretty much tell each other everything, she suggested I might have transferred my feelings for Harry during the grieving process. But I knew that wasn’t true. My love for Harry had been different. I hated to admit it, but I never loved Harry in the same way I love Caspian. My feelings for my husband were real and wonderful and fulfilling, but my feelings for the ghost in my house were so deep and powerful, it was frightening
. And with him gone, those emotions came crashing down around my heart to leave me empty and wondering what I ever did before Caspian came into my life.
To make things worse, Caspian and I had been intimate, and I had the memory of that to both yearn for and cherish. Caspian in the past had told me he’d have that memory on his journey. Was I on a journey in which I was to rely on the memory until we were reunited?
The car trip to Seattle with my mother and Hodor was faster than usual seeing my mother liked to drive quickly. No longer would I nag her about speed now that I couldn’t see the road. I simply sat in the backseat of her car with Hodor next to me, my seat belt tightly strapped across me, listening to music with my dog’s big schnoz on my thigh. I refused to sit in the passenger seat in the front seat of my mother’s car. I never had taken a front seat and would never start because that place is called the “Death Seat” in car accidents and I did not trust my mother’s driving. I’d already survived the Death Seat once and didn’t want to tempt fate to save me again.
We stopped along the way to Seattle, somewhere around Olympia to let Hodor out to pee at a rest stop. I flipped open TapTap, my white cane, and with that and Hodor, we found the nearest patch of grass near the parking spot. I figured no one at a highway rest stop would get on my case about my dog not doing his business in the pet area if they saw my cane. One of the perks of being blind was not having to pick up doggie doo-doo after they did their business. I simply threw out an apology to the universe about not picking up after my pet and hoped nobody stepped in anything that might be left by my dog.
My mother waited in the car, talking on her phone. Just as we’d parked, Ron had called to see how she was and there was no way she was going to leave the car to walk me around a busy rest stop when there was a man on the other end of her phone, even if it was a man she appeared to now hate.