by Kit Morgan
“The MacDonalds?”
“Yes, and I’d sure like to know what they were thinking. I don’t understand why they’d do this to me.”
“They always seem to have a good reason,” he insisted.
She blinked back tears. “I should hope so, but it makes no sense.”
He studied her face, her hair, and fought the urge to hold her hand. “You must have bumped your head like Doc said. It makes perfect sense.”
She half-laughed, half-cried. It was an odd sound, as if someone was pulling it out of her. “But bumping my head doesn’t give you eighteen years of memories – memories about the 21st century! And it doesn’t make you think you’re in the 19th century either.” She rubbed her hand over her scalp. “Oh, and there’s no bump. So there goes that theory.” She scowled at the ceiling. “So either I’m 140 years in the past, or I’m completely cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs.”
Jefferson couldn’t understand a lot of what she was saying, but what he could grasp had his sympathies. He didn’t want her to be halfway around the bend, or further. He sat on his hands to stop himself from taking hers.
“Are your hands cold?”
His heart skipped a beat and he had to swallow. “A little.”
“Winters are cold here, even in my time. If there isn’t a way to heat your house, it can be miserable.”
“Well, who wouldn’t have fires going? That’s just plumb loco.”
She looked at him. “Maybe they don’t have anything to make a fire with.”
His brow creased. “What? Only a fool doesn’t stock up wood for the winter. How would you cook, let alone keep your fires going?”
She looked toward the fireplace but from her vantage point, couldn’t see it. “Yeah, good point. I think I’m warmed up now.”
“Are you sure?” She’d been shivering earlier. “Maybe we should leave the blankets for a spell.”
She smiled. “I like the way you talk. Is it okay to say that?”
He pulled his hands out from under his legs. “There’s nothing special about how I talk. Other than the accent, but none of have as much of one as our parents and aunts.”
“Do you have a big family?”
He grinned. “Yes, ma’am.”
She shook her head. “Call me Lorelei.”
“But … that wouldn’t be proper.”
She sighed. “I suppose not. But it’s not proper for me to be here anyway, so let’s lose the formality … Jeff.” She grinned.
“Well, okay.” He stared at his boots as he felt his cheeks redden.
“Can I ask you some questions?”
“Sure – whatever you like.” He hoped the questions wouldn’t be too embarrassing.
“Are you a cowboy?”
He shrugged. “I like to think of myself as a cattle rancher. The ranch hands are cowboys.”
“Ranch hands? So your family has hired people on?”
“Sure – there’s no way we could run the whole ranch without them. We have five right now, plus our foreman Logan Kincaid and his sons.”
“So the Triple-C is a cattle ranch right now too. In my time it still is – a big one.”
“Oh. Well, that’s nice.” She was talking nonsense again. He wanted her whole, undamaged in mind, spirit, body … whoa, where had that thought come from? It had popped into his head and heart as if it had always been there, just waiting to come out. As if he’d been waiting for her … but that was ridiculous. He’d just met her.
“It’s really successful even now, I guess?”
“Well, yes. My parents, uncles and aunts built the place, with a lot of help from my Aunt Sadie’s father. He’s a big cattle baron in west Texas, and he gave Uncle Harrison a dowry of cattle when he married Aunt Sadie. Plus he’s brought more cattle to join with ours over the last few years. We don’t see him much anymore, as he and Great-Aunt Teresa are starting to get old.”
She stared at him, wide-eyed. If he wasn’t careful, he could get lost in those grey eyes of hers. “Must be nice to have so much family. Like I said, I’ve just got me.”
“Well, are you feeling better?” Doc Drake asked as he re-entered the room followed by Mother and Father.
“I’m tired. And disoriented, for obvious but seemingly impossible reasons. But otherwise I’m fine. No bump on my head – I checked.”
Doc Drake studied her a moment. “Well, all right. But something must have happened.”
“And I told you what. But I don’t blame you for not believing it. Ask the MacDonalds when they get back, is all I can suggest.”
Father looked frustrated. “Is there anything else we should do for her?”
Doc Drake shook his head. “Just take care of her like the MacDonalds said, I suppose.” He went to Lorelei, knelt beside her and took her hand again. Jefferson recognized the look on his face – he was doing it. No one knew exactly how, but Bowen Drake could heal folks with a touch. Everyone in town was aware of it and did what they could to protect the man and his family from any not-so-nice folks trying to take advantage of him.
“Lorelei,” Doc said softly, “don’t be afraid.”
Tears filled her eyes and she nodded. Jefferson sensed some unspoken understanding had just passed between them.
Doc rose, put on his hat and gave everyone a parting nod. “You know where to find me if you need me.”
“Thank you so much for coming, Bowen,” Mother said. “We’ll do everything you asked.”
He smiled, whispered something in her ear, then left the house.
Father sighed. “Well, young lady, you heard the doctor. How about something to eat?”
“I’m not saying no.” Lorelei slowly sat up and pushed the quilts off, then pulled one back over her. “Yikes, it’s chilly in here,” she said with a giggle. “Comes with not having central air, I guess.”
Jefferson set the other blankets aside. “Central …”
“Never mind. Unless you really want an explanation.”
Jefferson decided he could wait on that.
“I’ll get you a change of clothes,” Mother said numbly. “You look about the same size as Honoria. She’ll have a dress you can borrow.”
Lorelei looked at her clothing. “I’m sorry I don’t have anything else. They didn’t exactly give me a chance to pack.”
“Don’t worry,” Father said. “Dallan left us some funds to see to your needs.”
“He did?” Jefferson and Lorelei said at the same time. They looked at each other and exchanged the same smile.
“Yes, in case you needed things like … clothes.”
Lorelei frowned. “So they really did plan this out.” She shook her head. “Why couldn’t they just ask me? Consent is important.”
“They did come and go in a hurry,” Father said.
“Where did they go, exactly?”
Mother headed for the hall. “As we said, we’re not sure other than it was California.”
“California?” she blurted. “Driving or flying?”
Jefferson made a face. “Flying?”
“Oh, boy,” Lorelei groaned, but didn’t elaborate.
“Oh.” He eyed the tea tray. “You hardly touched that. I can fetch more.”
“Good idea, son.” Father looked at Lorelei. “If you’re feeling better, then I’ve some chores to attend to. I suggest you get changed, have something to eat and make yourself at home.” He smiled and left the room.
Mother picked up the tray. “I’ll make a fresh pot. Jefferson, come with me? We’ll be right back.” She hurried him out of the parlor and to the kitchen.
To their surprise, Father was waiting there for them. “This is all so strange,” he muttered.
“Stranger than I could have guessed,” Mother replied. “You know what Bowen said to me before he left?”
“I was rather wondering about that.”
Jefferson watched his mother shake her head in disbelief. “He said she’s not loco, she’s telling the truth.”
“That she’s from the
… the future?!” Jefferson blurted.
But Mother just nodded solemnly. “Don’t ask me how or why – maybe only the MacDonalds know. But yes. From the future.”
* * *
Lorelei sat on the Victorian sofa and studied the room she was in. It was pretty, feminine, cozy – the kind of room she’d always wanted to have. Too bad it was before her great-grandparents were gone.
As impossible as it sounded, she had traveled through time to the Clear Creek of the past. It’s the only thing that made sense. And the MacDonalds had brought her here. Which meant they had a plan – a plan that involved … “Drugging me with spray cheese.” Saying it out loud didn’t make it any less bizarre.
She massaged her temples and tried to figure out why they’d done this to her. She went over everything that had happened since she met the MacDonalds and their author friend Kitty Morgan. They came to Dunnigan’s, to the laundromat, and most recently to her home. They invited her to that party. They loaned her a dress and shoes. They had her wash some antique quilts …
She got to her feet and picked up the one she’d been covered with. Yes – she’d washed this same quilt at Deets’ Laundromat not ten days ago, she was sure of it. But now it was brand new, not frayed and yellowed. She looked at the dress she was still wearing. Had it come from the past too?
Lorelei looked around the room, examining some of the framed photographs on the wall. One was of the Cooke family – Colin, Belle and five children, looking as dead serious as people always looked in old photos. There was also one of the same couple as the other photograph in her apartment, the Dunnigans. “Belle’s aunt and uncle,” she said to herself.
Another photo was of a large group of people, dressed for summertime. She looked a little closer. One of the men looked familiar – very familiar. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“Something wrong?” Jeff asked as he came into the room.
She spun around and caught herself before she stumbled and fell on her face.
Jefferson was at her side in a flash. “Come sit down. You shouldn’t make sudden movements like that.”
“You’re right.” She let him guide her back to the sofa and looked at the tea tray. He hadn’t spilled a drop when he set it down and leaped to her aid. The man was graceful as a cat.
“Sugar?”
She blinked at him. He was pouring her a cup of tea as if it was the most natural thing to do, even if his hands were shaking a little. The sight of a handsome cowboy performing such an act was comical. If she had her cell phone, she’d take a picture. But the MacDonalds must have it.
That brought her back to the big question: why? Why did they leave her with these people? She tried to recall snippets of conversation from the times she spent with them. Didn’t she overhear Shona and Kitty arguing, something about Kitty writing about Shona and Dallan’s assignments? What did that mean?
“Do you take cream?” he asked as he poured himself a cup.
“I’ve never tried cream in tea,” she confessed.
“I love it.” He picked up the pink-and-white sugar bowl. “You never told me how much sugar you take.”
“Oh, just a teaspoon, thanks.” Some small part of her felt giddy at having afternoon tea with this man, like something out of a fractured fairy tale. But she liked it.
He stirred the sugar into her cup, then handed her the cup and saucer. She took it, watched him pour cream into his cup, add sugar and stir. When he was done, he raised his cup as if to toast. She automatically raised hers too. “Thank you.”
“You already thanked me.”
She blushed. “Well, now I’ve thanked you twice.” She didn’t want him to think she was some blithering idiot, but she was actually starting to have fun with all the weirdness.
They sipped their tea in silence a few moments before Belle came in, a dress in her hands. The woman stared at her a moment, as if she couldn’t believe her eyes, then said, “This should fit fine. If you’re up to it, we’ll go into town in a day or two and get you something else.”
She smiled. These people were so kind. “I don’t know how to thank you.”
“Don’t worry about such things now. We’re happy to help.” She set the folded dress on the sofa next to her. “I have a petticoat that should fit – it’s old but that shouldn’t matter. We can always get you a new one.”
Jeff took a quick sip of tea, catching her attention. Had he been staring at her funny too? And … was he blushing? But of course, he would be. This wasn’t the 21st century – these people would have very different kinds of manners, the kinds she’d only read about in library books. She’d have to try to remember some history and fast. This might not be some city, but it was the same era – and these people were British besides.
She sipped her tea and did her best to stay calm. She could be logical when she wanted – it was part of how she’d survived all these years. She might not be socially adept, and she had some hang-ups, but who didn’t? Her shyness at meeting new people wasn’t an option now – everyone would be new.
In short, Lorelei was stuck here until either the MacDonalds returned for her or she found her own way back, as impossible as that was. But if she got here, then there had to be a way to get back. Doors swung both ways. Now all she had to do was find one – and do her best to fit in until she did.
Chapter Ten
Lorelei watched Belle knead bread with fascination. She’d slept well after eating a delicious stew and biscuits for dinner, slept in Parthena’s bed last night – Parthena shared Adele’s – and was now wearing the blue calico dress Honoria loaned her. She’d met the rest of the family, and they were all really nice. If only the circumstances were different. After all, she didn’t belong in this place – or more to the point, this century.
Jeff, at eighteen, was the oldest of Colin and Belle’s children. Next came Adele, sixteen, who talked nonstop unless one of her parents told her to be quiet and eat. She was pretty, with light brown hair and the same hazel eyes as the rest of the family. In Lorelei’s experience, sixteen year-old girls either talked a lot or very little. She’d been the latter in high school. Not this girl.
Thackary, fifteen, was the quiet one, with all the awkwardness you’d expect from his age. But he was so well-mannered, he’d be considered from another planet in her time. She’d already met Sam, fourteen, and Parthena, twelve. Five kids in eight years – it was amazing Belle wasn’t worn to pieces. And a good thing they weren’t worrying about sending them all to college.
Honoria, Colin and Belle’s niece, was only twenty, but much more mature than women the same age in her time. She was better looking than Cindy Crankshaw too, even though she was six months pregnant. Her husband the major – no, wait, his name was Major – was handsome with a Southern accent straight out of Gone with the Wind. They’d come by earlier to see how she was doing, and Major fascinated her. To think he’d fought in the Civil War! Where was he when she had to do a special report on Sherman’s March to the Sea as part of her senior project?
Of course, Major had fought for the Confederacy, so his views on the subject might be different from what she was used to, even in a town as redneck as Clear Creek in her time. She wasn’t sure whether to ask him about it or not.
Belle wiped her hands on her apron. “Now we let the dough rest a couple of hours.”
Lorelei looked at the bowl she’d covered with a dishtowel, then at everything cooking on the stove. Patsy had a hard time just heating up microwave dinners. How did Belle do it all? “Everything smells wonderful, Mrs. Cooke.”
“Mrs. Cooke – where did that come from? Especially after yesterday. Call me Belle.”
She smiled shyly. “What should I call Mr. Cooke?”
“He’ll insist you call him Colin. I gather you’re used to less formality.”
True enough. “And your children?” She wanted to make sure what the proper etiquette was for the time period before she said something she shouldn’t.
“Just use their
Christian names,” Belle advised as she turned the fried potatoes. “Would you like more coffee?”
“Please.”
She watched the woman grab the handle of a large metal coffee pot with her apron and pour her a second cup. The dishes were the same ones in the little hutch in her kitchen back home. “This is a lovely set.” She held up her cup and saucer. “Where did you get them?”
“These old things? They belonged to my Aunt Irene. She had quite a few and gave some to us after we built this place.”
“Where did you live before?”
“Next door in the main ranch house with Harrison, Sadie, Duncan and Cozette.”
“Your husband’s brothers and their wives, right?”
“You remember – good.” She looked her over. “You’re sure you’re feeling all right this morning?”
She nodded. “It’s still a little strange. I have so many questions, and I don’t know which ones to ask – or who I should ask.”
“Well, given your secret …” Belle winked. “… you might want to stick to asking me or Colin or Jefferson. Or Doc Drake, since he knows. Dallan and Shona tend to keep their activities rather hush-hush, so I don’t know who else in town is aware. But if we can answer your questions, we will.”
That made sense. “And if it’s something personal?”
“Don’t worry – if we think you’re overstepping your bounds, we’ll say so.”
Another nod. She didn’t want to ask the woman her age – that was rude no matter what century you were in. She must be at least forty, since she had an eighteen-year-old son, but she looked good for having five children – not an ounce of fat on her. Must be all the ranch work. Hmmm … she gulped.
“Are you all right?”
“Yes, fine. But … I don’t know how long I’ll be here. And I want to earn my keep.”
Belle smiled. “Of course you do. Just consider yourself part of the family until it’s time to leave.” She turned back to the stove.
Adele and Parthena entered the kitchen, went to the hutch against a wall and began to take out plates and utensils. “Good morning, Lorelei,” Adele said happily. “You must be feeling better – you got up before we did!”