Our Time Is Now

by Chloe Douglas

  Suddenly hearing the tinny peal of the oven timer, Jessica rushed back to the kitchen. A few seconds later, potholder in hand, she opened the oven door.

  “Oh, God,” she groaned at seeing the twelve rock-like objects.

  As if on cue, Gideon stepped into the kitchen. “Are those biscuits I smell?”

  “Um, not exactly,” she hedged, mortified by her baking disaster.

  Undeterred by her less than enthusiastic reply, Gideon snagged a biscuit from the hot tray. “There is nothing I enjoy more than a biscuit right out of the oven,” he informed her, just before he raised it to his mouth.

  Grabbing hold of his wrist, Jessica said, “That might not be such a wise idea. You don’t have dental insurance.”

  With an amused chuckle, he took a large, hearty bite.

  As he chewed, a strange look crept into Gideon’s eyes. When he made a gagging sound, Jessica hurriedly grabbed a glass and filled it with water. Handing it to him, she watched as he swished a mouthful before swallowing. Wordlessly, he placed the remainder of his half-eaten biscuit back on the tray.

  “That bad, huh?”

  “I have tasted worse,” he diplomatically replied, too much of a gentleman to come right out and say it—her biscuits were god-awful.

  “Believe it or not, I actually used a recipe,” she told him.

  “I will be only too happy to share Beulah’s biscuit recipe with you.” Stepping over to the cupboard, Gideon proceeded to remove the very ingredients that Jessica had put away minutes earlier.

  “And who, may I ask, is Beulah?”

  “Beulah was the cook at Highland House when I was a young boy,” Gideon said over his shoulder as he removed a quart of buttermilk from the refrigerator. “Back in those days, the kitchen was separate from the house. And in the winter months, there was no place warmer than Beulah’s kitchen.”

  Grabbing the baking tray, Jessica unceremoniously dumped the remaining eleven and a half biscuits into the trash can. “Let’s just pretend that first tray of biscuits never happened.”

  As he measured out the flour, Gideon shot her a sideways glance. “To which biscuits are you referring, madam?”

  “I knew I had a reason for loving you.” Jessica said warmly, rewarding him with a loud, smacking kiss on the cheek.

  With a courtly sweep of the arm, Gideon handed her a mixing spoon before motioning her to the counter. “Only the one reason?”

  “There are a few other reasons, but in the interest of getting dinner on the table in a timely manner, I think it best if I wait until after biscuit-making class to reveal them,” she teased. “And just so you know, I intend to do you and Beulah proud.”

  A tender smile animated Gideon’s handsome features. “I would certainly hope so, as I can’t have a wife who doesn’t know how to make a proper batch of biscuits.”

  Surprised that he’d just broached the “W” word, Jessica said, “I thought we’d agreed that we’d live together first before we, um, take the relationship to the, you know, next level.”

  Gideon took hold of both her hands. “While others may be content to live together, I hail from a century when a man and a woman first committed themselves in marriage. Only then did they live together.” Raising her right hand to his lips, he pressed a warm kiss in the center of her palm. “You will make me a very happy man if you would do me the honor of becoming my wife… yet again.”

  At a sudden loss for words, Jessica worriedly gnawed on her lower lip. More than anything, she wanted to marry Gideon again. But before that could happen, she had to first make an unpleasant confession.

  “For a woman so full of good cheer, you’ve become noticeably quiet.”

  “There’s something that I, um, have to tell you,” she nervously sputtered. “First of all, I need to apologize because I should’ve told you sooner, but… well, the truth of the matter is that I’m a divorced woman. Or at least I will be in a few days’ time.”

  Gideon shook his head, clearly stupefied. “I beg your pardon?”

  Hoping she had the inner fortitude to get through the next few minutes, Jessica reluctantly elaborated. “I was married for seven years to a man named Richard Bragg. Because he ill-treated me, I left him and filed for a divorce. Which should be finalized sometime next—”

  “Do you actually mean to tell me that you’re still married to this man?” Gideon thundered, his eyes darkening to a stormy shade of blue.

  “Uh-huh,” Jessica admitted with a shaky nod, forcing herself to meet his gaze. “Although for the last seven months, I’ve been legally separated from my soon-to-be ex-husband,” she said with added emphasis, hoping to mitigate the damage. “And, you should be happy to know, according to my lawyer, the final divorce decree will be issued any day now.”

  “It matters not,” Gideon retorted. “You’ve already made an adulterer of me. A fact for which I am not the least bit happy. Why in God’s name didn’t you tell me before now?”

  “Lest you forget, you weren’t so forthcoming about your own marital status,” she pointed out in a snarky tone of voice, hoping to knock him off his sanctimonious high horse.

  “Ah, but the difference is that I am a widower. Your widowed husband, to be precise.” Gideon paused a moment, his lips twisting in a mocking sneer. “Or was your fantastical tale about reincarnation also a deception?”

  “How dare you insinuate that I lied to you!”

  Realizing, too late, that her ire had gotten the better of her, Jessica took a calming breath. The situation had all too quickly escalated to the point where, in the heat of anger, someone could very well say something he or she would later regret.

  “I wanted to tell you about my first marriage,” she continued, taking a more conciliatory tone. “But, in all honesty, I was terrified of how you’d react.”

  “That doesn’t excuse your lamentable lapse.”

  Immediately retracting the olive branch, Jessica folded her arms over her chest. “You want the straight scoop? Here it is. I didn’t tell you about my divorce because you’re a Victorian prude,” she lashed out at him. “In fact, I’m surprised you didn’t wag your finger and accuse me of being a fallen woman.”

  “Damn you, Jessica.”

  “Right back at you, Gideon.”

  Spinning on her heel, Jessica turned her back on him. To stop her hands from shaking, she gripped the counter top. As she stood there, desperately trying to get a grip on her runaway emotions, several stray tears trailed down her flushed cheeks and plopped into the flour bowl.

  God knows, she’d had every intention of telling Gideon about her marriage to Richard. She’d simply been waiting for the right moment to present itself. Obviously, she waited too long. And because of that, she was now in so deep that she didn’t know if she could dig her way out.

  Wiping her tears on her shirt sleeve, Jessica turned back around. “When you first came to live at Highland House, it seemed like an irrelevant omission. I thought, ‘Why should I tell him I’m getting divorced? It’s none of his business.’ But then… we grew closer and… and I was afraid you’d think less of me,” she hesitantly confessed.

  “I admit that being a divorced woman does not raise you in my estimation.”

  “Well it should,” she snapped, Gideon’s stodgy proclamation making her livid. “If I hadn’t walked out on my husband, I would never have ended up at Highland House. And without Highland House, it’s doubtful that you and I would have ever met. This house is the conduit that brought us together across the boundary of time. In other words, my divorce happened for a reason.”

  “But you didn’t know that when you originally broke your marriage vows, did you?” he goaded. “Now if you will excuse me, I seem to have lost my appetite.”

  “Oh, that’s rich,” she sniggered, refusing to let him sidestep around her. “Since the dawn of time, men have fled to their caves at the first sign of emotional duress. My guess is that it has something to do with having a penis.”

  Gideon’s eyes opened wi
de, the man obviously shocked. “In my day, a woman would never speak so brazenly.”

  “Just get over your bad self, will ya? In this day and age, a woman can say anything she damn well pleases.”

  “Given your shrewish tongue, I suspect your husband was mightily relieved when you—” Without warning, Gideon groaned in pain as he reached up and clutched his head with both hands.

  Oh my God. Draygan is back.

  Her ire instantly forgotten, Jessica grasped hold of Gideon’s forearm. “Are you having a spell?”

  “Leave me be, woman.” It was the last thing Gideon said before he stormed out of the kitchen.

  Jessica stood rooted in place as she watched him leave, concern and bitter regret bombarding her in equal measure.

  Suddenly feeling a queasy roil in her belly, she lurched toward the sink and promptly vomited a mouthful of stomach acid. As she splashed cool water onto her face, Jessica heard Gideon stomp up the staircase.

  Moments later, he stomped back down the stairs… and right out the front door.

  Hearing the resounding echo of that slammed door, Jessica experienced a déjà vu moment, recalling with perfect clarity Gideon’s angry departure from Highland House. Almost one hundred and fifty-one years ago to the day.

  Chapter 27

  May God damn him for being a dunderheaded fool. And an overly proud one at that.

  Outraged over Jessica’s revelation regarding her previous marriage, Gideon had donned his Confederate tunic, armed himself with his revolver and saber, and departed from Highland House. Since he could not do battle with Jessica’s first husband, Richard Bragg, he would instead do battle with the infernal beast Draygan.

  His heart now heavy because of the acrimonious exchange with Jessica, Gideon tugged on the reins, setting Blaze on a northwesterly course toward the stand of white pine known as Archibald’s Wood. The land was named after his grandfather who, taken with the magnificent wooded tract, had refused to put it to the ax. On one memorable occasion, he’d overheard his grandfather remark that the tiered pine branches resembled an oriental pagoda, an accurate if somewhat whimsical observation for so staid a Scotsman.

  Entering the ancient grove, Gideon veered toward the abandoned saltpeter mine located near Devil Run’s Creek. Overhead, a ponderous full moon illuminated the woodland.

  His teeth chattering together, Gideon braced himself against the biting cold. The day, which had dawned so balmy, had turned decidedly wintry, making him think that the plummeting temperature was a punishment of sorts.

  Have I learned nothing from the travails of my life?

  Since Sarah’s death, he’d suffered many a sleepless night, guilt-ridden that he’d callously abandoned her. Yet, once again, he’d reacted in like manner, turning his back on the woman he loved.

  Full of shameful remorse, he recalled that last heated argument with Sarah, an argument that had ironically occurred nearly one hundred and fifty-one years ago to the day. As always, the memory was a bitter reminder of how he’d failed his wife. And because Sarah died soon thereafter, he’d never been able to beg her forgiveness.

  In similar fashion, he’d earlier betrayed the love that he bore for Jessica, having succumbed to a heated jealousy when he learned that she’d been previously wed. Although, as Jessica had adroitly pointed out to him, leaving her cad of a husband had been the impetus for her purchase of Highland House. If that was true, should he not then be relieved, elated even, that she’d dissolved her marital union? Anything that transpired before his fantastical journey across the boundaries of time should not matter.

  A conclusion he wished that he’d arrived at much sooner.

  While Gideon wanted nothing more than to return to Highland House and make amends for his loutish behavior, he knew that, in order to truly live life to the fullest in this new century, he had to rid himself of the beast who took such delight in bedeviling him at every turn. If he wanted to carve a place for himself in these hills and mountains that he loved so well, Draygan must be destroyed. Gideon did not intend to live another day in the infernal creature’s dark shadow.

  Splashing across the swift-running creek, Gideon and his mount started up the first of several switchbacks that led to the abandoned saltpeter mine. As he made his way through a stand of hemlock and red spruce, he heard a high-pitched keen that sounded like the death lament of bereaved women mourning their slain kinsmen. Spooked by the unnatural sound, Blaze nickered softly.

  Moments later, the foreboding air intensified when the moon, now hidden behind a veil of clouds, cast a strange blue light onto the landscape.

  Gideon reached into his vest pocket and removed his watch. Thumbing it open, he noted that it was twelve o’clock. The witching hour.

  Nearing the entrance to the mine, he removed a flameless torch, what Jessica called “a flashlight,” from his saddlebag. Shining a golden beam of light, he spied several conspicuously broken tree limbs, evidence that someone, or something, had recently traversed this same trail. Reining Blaze to a halt, he dismounted so that he could better examine the broken limbs. Directly beneath them, he discovered a cluster of animal prints which had clearly been made by a beast that had large, clawed feet.

  Just then, Blaze began to skittishly paw at the ground.

  “Don’t worry. You can stay put,” he assured the horse as he looped the reins around a low-hanging tree limb.

  Flashlight in hand, Gideon proceeded on foot. Pushing aside a dried cluster of prickly pear, he discovered the entrance to Hell’s Hole. As he perused the opening to the mine, he noticed that there was a gnarled grapevine spanning the gaping entryway, to which a sturdy length of rope had been tied. Since the hemp “ladder” appeared to be the only way to reach the cave below, he tucked the flashlight into his vest, enabling him to grab hold of the rope with both hands as he made his descent.

  When his booted feet finally touched solid ground—some fifty feet below where he’d started—Gideon found himself standing in a chamber of monumental proportions. Massive stalagmites formed columns that put him in mind of an ancient underground ruin. From this central nave, there were several corridors, each leading in a different direction. Hearing a faint gurgle, he aimed the flashlight toward the far side of the chamber where a stream of water cascaded over a large limestone slab.

  Awestruck, he turned full circle, mesmerized by the cavern’s majestic, roughhewn beauty.

  Only belatedly did it occur to him that his chances of scaling up the rope to the cave entrance were slim to nil.

  “Oh, Jessica,” he murmured bleakly as he stared at the dangling length of rope. “What have I done?”

  No sooner had he posed the question than the answer hit Gideon like a well-aimed Minié ball—he’d let his obsession with Draygan take precedence over all else. Just as he’d let his obsession with duty drive a wedge between him and Sarah.

  Am I doomed to repeat the same mistake over and over again?

  He’d been given a second chance, yet once more he’d failed to make love his first, his only, priority. Love was not something to be brought out on special occasions, like a piece of fine china. Love was the embodiment of all that he felt for Jessica, all that he’d felt for Sarah, and it was to be cherished, each and every day. He’d learned in the most painful way imaginable that this world was a lonely place without the woman he loved by his side.

  Lost in his sad musings, Gideon was taken aback when the scene around him suddenly began to shimmer and undulate, before everything within visual range fragmented, the broken pieces weirdly shifting as they condensed into a blue pinprick of light. The pinprick exploded with a brightness so intense that Gideon had to shield his eyes with his coat sleeve.

  When he finally lowered his arm, he stared in bewilderment at the scene before him, wondering if he’d taken leave of his senses as he gazed upon the smoldering remains of what had once been the barn at Highland House. The scene was so real that he could smell burnt wood, even as he tasted ash in his mouth.

  T
o his horror, Gideon belatedly realized that he was peering at Sarah’s funeral pyre.

  Propelled into action, he rushed toward the fiery debris. “Sarah!” he hollered, the full-throated bellow catching on a ragged sob.

  The cry was answered by the harsh caw of a raven, one of a quartet that ominously circled overhead.

  Caught in the throes of a painful heartache, Gideon closed his eyes to block out the ghastly scene, certain that Draygan had conjured the gruesome illusion. Although to what end, he could not fathom.

  “Damn the beast,” he hissed, inundated with a grief so potent that his heart muscle painfully tightened. Had he stayed at Highland House, he could have saved Sarah from—

  Suddenly hearing a high-pitched cackle, Gideon opened his eyes. Although his vision was blurred by tears, he saw a shimmering, diaphanous specter, immediately recognizing it as the ghostly image of Oren Tolliver.

  A burning rage instantly welled within him. “What in God’s name is going on?” he hoarsely muttered. “What manner of trickery is this?”

  “You couldn’t save her then. And you can’t save her now,” the apparition taunted, its pale lips twisted in a malevolent sneer. “Because she belongs to me, I will take her away from you each and every time.”

  “You bastard!”

  Gideon lurched toward the ghostly image, but it immediately faded into a fuzzy blur that soon vanished into thin air. Within seconds of the apparition’s departure, the entire scene fractured into myriad pieces, much like a shattered mirror. Those pieces, in turn, compressed into a tiny prism of blue light.

  As before, the blue light exploded. Gideon shielded his eyes with his forearm.

  When he lowered his arm a few moments later, he was again standing in the middle of the darkened subterranean cavern.

  Shaken by the vision, Gideon staggered toward the nearest corridor, determined to find his quarry, finish what he’d set out to do, then return to Jessica. Come hell or high water. And given his present location—somewhere deep in the bowels of the earth—he might very well have to brave the former rather than the latter.