“Yes sir, Governor.”
Hearing that, Sarah’s jaw slackened as she wondered what misbegotten folk would ever elect Oren Tolliver to govern them. “Mr. Tolliver, I am confused as to why that soldier addressed you as ‘Governor.’ ”
Oren hooked a thumb into each of his vest pockets. “I’ve recently been elected provisional governor,” he informed her, his narrow chest visibly expanding as he made the announcement.
“Provisional governor of what, may I ask?”
“Obviously you haven’t been apprised of the news yet. Greenbrier County is to be included in the boundaries of what will be the new loyal state of West Virginia,” Oren said in a self-important tone of voice. “Which makes your treacherous husband guilty of committing high crimes against the people of West Virginia. Crimes for which he must now answer to me.”
“Ha! That will be the day,” Sarah exclaimed defiantly. Her husband was guilty of no crime save love of homeland.
Scowling, Oren stepped to within inches of where she stood. “Never forget, Mrs. MacAllister, that vengeance is mine,” he whispered in her ear.
“Sayeth the Lord,” she chastised, appalled to hear him utter such blasphemy.
Oren negligently shrugged. “It matters not who said it, given that the sentiment is one which I wholeheartedly endorse.”
Just then, the sergeant who’d been searching the house stepped through the front door. “The lady was telling the truth. Ain’t nobody here, but her.”
Visibly angered, Oren turned to the commanding officer. “Major, I want you to take these men back to Lewisburg. I’ll be along shortly.”
“Governor, I think it would be prudent to leave a small escort detachment,” the major advised.
“That’s entirely unnecessary. Mrs. MacAllister and I have some unfinished business which shouldn’t take long to conclude.”
Sarah turned her head in Oren’s direction. To say that she was confounded would be an understatement. As far as she was concerned, she and Oren Tolliver had long ago severed all ties to one another.
Dutifully, the soldiers mounted their horses, the major issuing the order to ride out.
“Mr. Tolliver, I see no reason for you to—” Sarah stopped in mid-sentence as Oren removed his wide-brimmed hat. “Good heavens! What happened to your face?” Where there had once been a nose, there was only a bulbous hump of scarred flesh.
“Not a pretty sight, is it? Thanks to your husband, I now possess a most distinctive profile.”
Unwillingly, Sarah recalled that long ago morning at Sweet Springs. A shudder passed over her at the memory of that violent day.
“Is that what this is all about? Is that why you came looking for Gideon?”
“It’s one of the reasons,” Oren admitted. “Now, as to our unfinished business, I noticed a barn in the distance and wondered if you would be kind enough to show it to me?”
Thinking it best to humor him, Sarah led Oren to the back of the house, and from there, out to the barn. Overhead, the four ravens that she’d earlier observed gracefully circled, not so much as flapping their wings as they effortlessly rode the wind. In the olden days, her superstitious forbears would have taken that as an ominous harbinger of death. Now she was simply struck by the majestic beauty of their soaring.
When she and Oren passed the line of clean sheets flapping in the breeze, her former fiancé gestured to the unfurled bed linens. “It would appear that Colonel Gideon MacAllister, the paragon of virtue who was so opposed to slave labor, has made a slave of his own wife. Thus proving, Mrs. MacAllister, that you chose the wrong man to marry.”
“Surely, you’re not suggesting that I should have married you?”
“If you had, you wouldn’t be reduced to wearing homespun and scrubbing dirty linen like some lowly house servant.”
“I married the man who stole my heart,” she informed him, taking a small measure of delight in doing so. “You, on the other hand, wanted only to steal the money that my father had bequeathed to me.”
Oren stopped in his tracks, forcefully pulling Sarah around to face him. “You were a fool then, and you are being no less of a fool now.” To her acute unease, he ran his hand along the length of her arm, his fingers grazing the side of her breast. “It’s a pity that I don’t have more time to avail myself of that which should rightfully have been mine.”
“How dare you speak to me in so loathsome a manner!” Disgusted with his lurid insinuations, Sarah turned abruptly and started back to the house.
She didn’t get far. Oren clamped an imprisoning hand around her elbow.
“We shall see how steadfast your convictions are without your husband here to protect you,” he snarled.
Outraged, Sarah tried, unsuccessfully, to pull free of him. “I demand that you release me, Mr. Tolliver.”
Refusing to comply, Oren roughly jerked on her arm, nearly pulling it from the socket. Then, with a muttered oath, he dragged Sarah to the barn, shoving her through the open doors and pushing her onto a bale of hay.
“I don’t understand why you’ve dragged me all the way out here,” Sarah complained as she rubbed her arm, infuriated with his roughshod treatment of her.
“Because your house is made of brick,” Oren matter-of-factly replied. “Setting fire to a wood barn requires far less effort.”
Horrified, Sarah lunged to her feet. “You can’t get away this!”
“Oh, but I can… and I will.” Oren Tolliver’s lips curved in a mirthless smile, making his face appear all the more grotesque. “And there’s nothing that you can do to stop me.” Still smiling, he grabbed a length of rope hanging on a nearby hook.
When Sarah attempted to run past him, he grabbed her by the shoulder and threw her to the floor. Entangled in her own skirts, she was powerless to stop him from tying her hands together.
“For the love of God! Don’t do this,” she pleaded. “I appeal to your sense of honor and—”
“Save your breath.”
Unable to detect any mercy in his harsh voice, Sarah knew that Oren Tolliver intended to kill her, and in the most cruel, inhuman way imaginable. Gesturing toward the ladder which led to the hayloft, he indicated that he wanted her to climb it.
“That shall be somewhat difficult,” she told him, holding her bound hands before her as she scrambled to her feet.
From the narrowing of his eyes, Sarah could see that her remark riled him. Cursing aloud, he placed a hand square across her lower back and shoved her toward the ladder. As she began the precarious ascent, Oren remained close behind her, his hand and upper body preventing her from falling backward. When she reached the top, she fell forward onto a bundle of hay.
Out of the corner of her eye, she watched as Oren retrieved a silver vesta case from his inside coat pocket. Removing a match, he struck it against a nearby beam. He then tossed the flaming match onto a bale of hay.
Sarah gasped, her heart beating an erratic, fear-induced tattoo. “Don’t do this,” she pleaded as she struggled to her feet. “If you set fire to the barn, I will likely perish in the flames.”
“That is the point, Mrs. MacAllister.” Chortling, Oren struck another match. With a negligent air, he tossed it aside. “You must pay for the humiliation that you made me suffer when you broke off our engagement.”
As Sarah watched him strike two more matches in quick succession, she was hit with an almost paralyzing sense of dread. “Forgive me, Oren. It was… it was wrong of me to… to treat you so callously,” she stammered. Suddenly lightheaded, she began to sway on her feet. “Is there nothing I can do to make amends?”
“There is something you can do.” Clearly amused, Oren smiled as he lit yet another match. “You can die. That will settle our debt.”
At hearing his heartless reply, Sarah’s eyes welled with tears, blurring her vision. “There’s some money in the library desk drawer,” she told him, unable to hide the desperation in her voice. “Will that not settle the matter?”
“I shudder to think w
hat a low price you would place on my honor. As if it could be bought with a few coins,” Oren added as he descended from the hayloft.
Sarah hurriedly made her way to the edge of the loft, alarmed to discover that Oren had removed the ladder. As she stood there, pondering her dire situation, her nostrils began to twitch, assailed by the acrid scent of smoke. Peering behind her, she saw that several of the hay bales had burst into flames. Gripped with fear, she knew that it was more fire than a single person could hope to extinguish, particularly without any water.
Stifling a panic-stricken cry, Sarah caught sight of Oren standing near the open barn door.
“I thought you should know that my true purpose in coming here today was to kill your husband. Arranging for his arrest was merely a pretext,” Oren informed her. “But rest assured, I shall have a reckoning all the same.” With a casual flick of the wrist, he tossed a final lit match onto the hay bales neatly stacked beside the door, gleefully cackling as the dry hay burst into flames. “Good day, Mrs. MacAllister.”
“I beg you! Don’t do this!” she called after him.
Without a backward glance, Oren Tolliver left the barn. A moment later, the double doors banged closed, throwing the interior of the barn into a semi-darkness relieved only by the light of the growing flames.
“No!” Sarah screamed, tears coursing down her face.
She didn’t want to die; that was the one certainty in this evil madness. But in order to escape, she had to get down from the loft. Which would be an impossible feat without the ladder. Unless…
Not giving herself time to deliberate on the matter, Sarah stepped off the edge of the hayloft, her long skirts ballooning around her as she soared through the air, her bound wrists preventing her from breaking the fall as she landed on her right side.
Almost immediately, an excruciating pain traversed the length of her lower leg. Gritting her teeth, Sarah tried to pull herself upright, but was unable to do so—her leg was bent at an unnatural angle, the bone broken.
Just then, a furious rumble shook the barn, and the hayloft plummeted to the ground in a roaring blaze of fire, barely missing Sarah. With it came several roof timbers, igniting everything they came into contact with. Gritting her teeth against the pain, she desperately tried to move away from the searing flames. In the next instant, another ceiling beam crashed to the barn floor, torching several stacked bundles of hay. All around her, burning embers fell like rain. Terror-stricken, Sarah saw that the hem of her long skirt had caught fire. Oblivious to the pain, she frantically swatted at the burning fabric.
“Gideon!”
Over and over, she screamed her husband’s name… even though she knew he would never reply. She’d run him off with her scornful words.
But if I hadn’t driven Gideon from Highland House, he would now be dead. Oren Tolliver had openly admitted that his sole purpose in coming to Highland House had been to kill Gideon. Despite her terror, Sarah’s heart sparked with a moment’s joy.
Unable to pull air into her lungs, she began to choke on the heavy smoke, the life force slowly ebbing from her. As it did, she thought of Gideon and the love she bore him. A love that she would carry with her to the hereafter. And beyond.
“I am ever yours, my darling Gideon.” Those were Sarah’s last words, her last thought, before her spirit drifted upwards, leaving the fire far behind…
* * *
“… and you’ll awake on the count of three. One. Two. Three. Open your eyes.”
Grateful the ordeal was over, Jessica heeded the command. As she sat upright on the sofa, she pushed out a deep, uneven breath.
“It’s all right, honey. You’re back in the here and now.” As Darlene gently patted her on the hand, a look of utter shock flashed across her face. “Lord Almighty! You’re burning up.”
“That’s an understatement,” Jessica muttered as she recalled the last few moments of Sarah’s life. However, more distressing than that horrific memory were the acrimonious words she’d hurled at Gideon just before he’d left Highland House. Go on, leave! Get yourself killed and be done with it.
“Because I cruelly taunted him, Gideon never knew how much I loved him,” she moaned, salty tears meandering unchecked down her face.
Snatching several tissues from a nearby box, Darlene handed them to her as she said, “He knows, honey. That’s why he traveled all this way to find you. Talk about a long distance romance.” Clearly amused, she began to chuckle softly.
“You don’t understand. Gideon traveled through time to find Sarah, only he ended up with me.”
“You being exactly the person he’s supposed to be with.”
“But I’m not Sarah,” Jessica stubbornly maintained, wondering why the other woman failed to see what was so plainly obvious.
“Because that life cycle has been completed.” With an almost maternal look on her face, Darlene took hold of both of Jessica’s hands as she said, “I want you to listen to me very carefully. There’s no force in the universe stronger than love. Not only is love a potent glue in the here and now, it can bind two people together throughout time. And this time around, you happen to be Jessica Reardon.”
“Yeah, but—”
“You’re not listening to me,” Darlene said sternly, stopping Jessica in mid-argument. “Gideon MacAllister loves you for who you are. So stop thinking of yourself as a consolation prize at the county fair.”
“But you weren’t there, Darlene. You didn’t see what happened.” As she envisioned Sarah’s last day, Jessica closed her eyes and shuddered. “Isn’t there some way I can go back and make amends?”
“I’m going to give you the straight scoop. There’s nothing you can do to change what happened in a past life.” Smiling sympathetically, Darlene then said, “All you can do is make certain that you don’t commit the same mistakes this time around.”
“But what if I screw up all over again?” she fretted, wondering if that was what was meant by the karmic wheel. “Every now and then, when I least expect it, I can feel Sarah’s anger and resentment toward Gideon welling up inside of me, and before I can even stop myself, I’m reacting to her feelings.”
“But by the same token, you can also feel her love for Gideon welling up inside of you. Am I right?”
“I felt that from the very start,” Jessica shyly confessed, having fallen in love with Gideon when he was still a virtual stranger to her.
“Until you can temper the good with the bad and forgive past transgressions, lasting happiness will elude the two of you. Just as it did one hundred and fifty years ago,” Darlene said in a serious tone of voice. “However, this time around, you’re going into the relationship with eyes wide open. Remember, you’re not Sarah. You’re Jessica. And that means you’re—”
“Self-reliant,” Jessica chimed in, recalling Sarah and Gideon’s last heated argument.
Darlene shot her a quizzical glance. “What in tarnation does that mean?”
“It means that I really have changed. And for the better,” she affirmed, realizing that after one hundred and fifty years, she’d finally become a strong, independent woman.
“Well, in that case, I suggest you go home and figure out what you’re going to say to that man of yours when he gets back from Shepherdstown,” Darlene advised as she got up from the sofa. “When I last spoke to J.W., he mentioned they would be returning to Greenbrier County early Friday evening. So that gives you nearly three days to catch up on your beauty sleep.”
Also rising to her feet, Jessica took Darlene’s measure, the other woman making quite the fashion statement with her peroxide-blond hair, cowboy boots, and flaming red fingernails. “You’re one heck of a wise conjure woman, Darlene Malone.”
Blushing all the way to her dark roots, Darlene said, “It’s too bad you never got to meet Mother Maebelle. Now there was a wise woman.”
“Unless I’m greatly mistaken, you’re following right in her footsteps.”
A mischievous, double-dimpled smile suddenly br
oke out on Darlene’s face. “Speaking of following in someone’s footsteps, what are you planning on naming that baby that’s on the way?”
Flabbergasted, Jessica’s mouth fell open. “I can’t… can’t have children,” she stammered.
“Says who?”
“Says Dr. Harvey Metzer at the McLean Infertility Clinic, for one.”
Darlene’s smiled widened. “In case you haven’t noticed, there’s a lot of magic in these old mountains. Especially when Draygan is roaming hither and yon.”
In a state of shock, Jessica placed a hand on her lower belly. True, she’d suffered from nausea recently, but she’d just assumed that had to do with a lack of sleep. That she might possibly be pregnant had never crossed her mind.
“How can you be so certain? If anything, I’ve lost weight these last few weeks.”
Affecting a look of mock indignation, Darlene said, “I’m a psychic, aren’t I?”
Chapter 24
“Ahh… it doesn’t get much better than this,” Jessica said with an appreciative sigh as she sank into the fluffy mound of vanilla-scented bubbles.
After moving her neck rest to a more comfortable position, she reached for the sea sponge and, lifting her leg onto the rim of the claw-footed bathtub, she lathered her foot. While others might laud the superiority of the shower, she’d always been a hardcore fan of the leisurely bath.
Because Gideon was due to return home in a few hours’ time, she’d had a busy day cleaning house, planning a romantic dinner for two, and grocery shopping. She’d even finished next week’s installment of The Draygan Chronicles, having earlier e-mailed the completed article to her editor. Nervous about her and Gideon’s upcoming reunion, she wanted to clear her weekend slate.
Hopefully, the bubble bath would calm her frazzled nerves.
Although her nerves weren’t nearly as frazzled as they had been. Since her past life regression, she hadn’t had a single dream or nightmare about Sarah. In fact, for the last three mornings, she’d awakened, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, relieved that she was back to having the usual run-of-the-mill, nonsensical Freudian dreams. But even though she was grateful that her sleep patterns had returned to normal, there was no sidestepping the fact that she now had a whole new set of issues to contend with.
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