“When did it happen?” she asked, interrupting his musings.
He had no difficulty understanding which ‘it’ she referred to. “On the nineteenth of June, 1854.”
“What day of the week would that have been in 1854.” She glanced at him.
“Monday.”
“We’ll make it right, Daniel.”
“Aye, lassie, that we will.” And then what? She’d return to her time, and he’d remain in his? Nay, fate would not be so cruel, not after everything he’d suffered. He shook his head. Certainly he’d done enough penance for several lifetimes by now. He deserved a wee bit of happiness, did he not?
“Why are you shaking your head, Daniel?”
“I’m just pondering the twists and turns of fate.” He smiled at her, even though his entire being ached at the possibility he’d be forced to let her go. “It’s the capriciousness of life—and death—that occupies my mind is all.”
“I’ll be right back.” Meredith jogged up the three steps to the porch and entered the cabin. She heard the dryer going in the bathroom, but Oliver wasn’t there, or not downstairs anyway. The cabin had an empty feel to it, and he usually called down a greeting when any of them returned. She glanced toward the loft as she hurried to her room. Maybe he’d gone to Missoula.
Meredith kneeled beside the bed and reached underneath for the calligraphy kit. She took out a several sheets of vellum and the fountain pen she’d already filled with ink. After sliding the box back under the bed, she placed the supplies into her backpack and headed back outside, grabbing the keys on the way. Meredith glanced toward the gravel lot as she joined Daniel. Oliver’s car was still there. Maybe he’d gone on a hike.
This was not the time to worry about Oliver. She had a task to accomplish, and that was unnerving enough. “I have everything we need,” she said as they set out for the school.
“Are you as nervous as I am?” he asked, one side of his mouth quirking up.
“Yes.” She had that butterflies-in-the-stomach thing going on, and her breathing had turned into shallow gulps of air. She couldn’t shake the feeling that they were about to do something illicit, dangerous … thrilling.
She’d never been one to color outside the lines or to break the rules, yet here she was, about to allow a ghost to take complete control of her physical self. She glanced at Daniel, marveling at how much she was willing to trust this memory of a man she’d only known for a few weeks. Oh my God, what am I doing?
A brick wall of anxiety stopped her in her tracks. “What would Aunt Beth do?” she muttered under her breath.
“I beg your pardon? I didn’t catch that.”
“I was talking to myself.”
“Having second thoughts?” Daniel drifted back to her. “You don’t have to do this, Meredith. I would never—”
“I know, but I want to. I’m just suffering a bout of nerves,” she said, trying to smile—and failing miserably. “Of the two of us, my twin sister was always the one who took chances. She’d be the one to leap off a cliff without first knowing the depth of the water below, and I mean that metaphorically.” She snorted.
“Not me. I strove to be different from her in every way, and I did so by being thoughtful and overly cautious. I think I needed to create my own identity. She and I are physically and genetically identical,” she said as if that explained everything.
“So, if she’d been the mindful one, you would’ve thrown caution to the wind at every opportunity?” He cocked a brow her way and grinned.
“Something like that. Maybe.” A nervous laugh bubbled forth. “I don’t really know.” She started moving again, the schoolhouse now in her sights.
By the time she and her phantom crush were inside the one-room school, Meredith’s hands were icy cold, and her heart beat like hummingbird wings. She shrugged off the backpack and sat in the teacher’s chair. The she unpacked the things they’d need. Then, arranging the vellum in a neat pile before her on the surface of the desk. Finally, she set the pen next to the stack. “Do you want me to have the pen in my hand when you possess me?”
“I’ve no idea,” Daniel said, pacing back and forth in front of her. “I don’t know how I’m to go about this possessing thing at all.”
Meredith gripped the arm rests of the desk. “Me either.”
“I can tell you’re as anxious as I am.” He peered down at her, his expression more haunted than usual. “Perhaps the first thing we both need to do is to try and relax. I swear my first concern is for your safety. I won’t harm you in any way, and … shite.” He groaned. “Tell me how to proceed, for I haven’t a clue.”
“Okay. Give me a minute.” Meredith drew in a long breath and let it out slowly as she purposefully un-bunched her tensed muscles. “Since I’m allowing this, I think you just have to drift into me, or think yourself there like you do when you go from place to place. Once we’re joined, we should be able to communicate as we always do.” She shook out her hands, straightened her spine, and picked up the fountain pen. “I’m ready.”
“For what, love?” Daniel’s chuckle echoed through her mind. “You look as if you’ve just swallowed clabbered milk.”
“I do not,” she huffed, trying to ignore the thrill his endearment caused. “I’m simply preparing myself for the inevitable jolt of cold.”
“Ah, right. I’d forgotten death’s chill.” His expression held tenderness and trepidation as he rubbed his ghostly hands together. “Do you wish to close your eyes?”
“No.” She blinked up at him. “Should I?”
“I’d prefer it,” he said, looking sheepish. “I’m feeling a wee bit … uncomfortable about this.”
“You know what? We’re procrastinating. Come on, Daniel. Let’s do this.” She closed her eyes and held her breath. At first all she experienced was a gentle brush against her, similar to that of a cool breeze gusting against her bare skin, and then nothing. “Daniel …” she said, her tone one of exasperation.
“Don’t rush me, woman.”
Another nervous laugh escaped her. “Just do it, man.”
A low growl echoed through her mind, the pressure grew, and then he was there, filling her. She hadn’t expected his presence to feel like a caress, as if she were being cradled in loving arms. She gasped, and all her senses flared to life. His being within her brought a sweet ache to her heart. She hadn’t been prepared for the intense intimacy. His gentle, tender caring was so physically discernable and so very real it nearly brought tears to her eyes.
“Meredith, being with you this way … it’s almost too much to bear. I hadn’t imagined this would be so—”
“Sensual?” she blurted.
“Aye, sensual beyond my wildest dreams.”
He moaned, and she felt his pleasure to her very core, and then his arms—or rather her arms under his volition—were around her, holding her tight, and a trail of sweet whispering kisses began along her collarbone, traveling up her neck to her ear, sending sparks and shivers of electricity arcing through her. His erotic thoughts and images burst into her mind, and her own heated blood chased away any trace of chill he’d brought with him.
“Do you know you’ve the loveliest ears I’ve ever beheld? You are beautiful, Meredith, and that’s a fact.”
Her hands began to slide upward toward her breasts, and she pushed back against his control over her. “Daniel, if you continue along your current path, the all-important letter will not be written today.”
“Does that mean we might do this again tomorrow?” he asked, a note of pleading in his tone.
“Get serious.”
“I am serious, love. I’ve waited more than a hundred years for you to come for me?”
His low, sexy growl rumbled through her. Come for him? Gulp. An answering throb low in her belly sent heat spiraling through her.
Daniel stirred within her, as if coming to attention. “I can feel what you’re feeling, and I know what you’re thinking.”
“I’m aware. It’s the same
for me.” Meredith corralled her thoughts and feelings, and wondered how she could keep them to herself. This was not normal or right, and as much as she reciprocated his desire, what they were doing wasn’t getting them anywhere. “It’s a two-way street, you know, so let’s both focus on what needs to be done. At least this confirms that you’ll be able to transfer images of your camp to me.”
He grunted, then sighed, tightening his hold around her for a second before acquiescing. “Right you are. Let’s write the letter first, and then I’ll do my best to share my memories with you. Please relax. Whether you realize it or not, you maintain control, and I cannot write unless you relinquish that control to me.”
“I know, and it’s a pleasant surprise. I suspect it’s true only because your intentions are good, and we’re partners in this endeavor. I doubt if a ghost with a less agreeable nature would—”
“Now who’s going down an errant path, sweetheart?”
Meredith smiled at his use of yet another endearment. She relaxed all her muscles, and let go of any last trace of resistance. “Do you need my eyes, or should I close them?”
“I can walk through walls, lassie, but I cannot see through them.”
“Right. Eyes open it is.”
He took over her limbs again, used her arm and hand, and drew a sheet of vellum closer. He gripped the pen in her hand. “What is the date?”
She told him, and experienced the shock that shook him. “You didn’t know?”
“I knew it had been a long time, but I hadn’t realized it had been quite that long.” He paused, uncertainty thrumming from him to her. “I’m not sure how to begin.”
“Begin with the date and go on to explain how and why you’re writing to your past self.”
Through her, Daniel drew in a long breath—using her lungs which was disconcerting to say the least—and leaned into his task. He began with the date, underlined it and continued
I, Daniel J. Cavanaugh, am writing this letter to myself to be read by myself in the year 1854.
“That’s a good way to begin. What does the J. stand for?”
“James, and thank you. I figured I might as well put the issue right out there.” He went back to his task.
At present, I am naught but a scáil, haunting Garretsville and have done these past one hundred sixty-six years. Thanks to the lovely and generous woman standing before you now, I—or rather we, or is it you?—have the chance to alter the circumstances that culminated in our demise, and by ‘our’ I am referring to you and Charles. (Charles and I) Only with the lassie’s help am I able to write this letter in my own hand.
Let me introduce you to Meredith MacCarthy, who is gifted with the sight. I’ll leave it to her to regale you with how she became involved, and the even more amazing tale of how she was able to bring this letter to you now.
On the morning of the nineteenth of June, 1854, as you and Charles bring your gold into Garretsville’s only assayer, you and he will be accosted by three men who will rob you and Charles and slit your throats. Be aware the assayer is likely involved. It has to be Joe Biggs who identifies who is ripe for the pickings for the three murderous thieves. He may be their ringleader, or he may be the gang’s minion. I cannot say which.
As he wrote, images of that fateful day assaulted her, and all the fear, anger, and regret he’d suffered since became hers as well. Her determination to succeed on his behalf grew by leaps and bounds as he went on, cataloging for his past self where, when, and how the crime had taken place. He also wrote what he believed could be done to bring the felons to justice.
“Add a few personal things only you and Charles would know,” Meredith suggested. “Those might be needed at this point in your letter. Not only for you, but for Charles.”
“Hmm. Good point.” He set aside the two pages he’d already filled and placed another sheet of vellum in front of him.
Meredith is a wise woman indeed, for she has suggested I add a few details from my life that only I would know in order to prove the veracity of this missive. I shall begin with an incident involving Charles, who will surely read this letter as well.
Charles, do you remember the time we stole that blackberry pie from Mrs. Delaney’s windowsill where it cooled? We were nine years old as I recall, and you stood upon my shoulders to reach the window. It was our reddish-purple lips and tongues that gave us away. Our parents sentenced us to a fortnight of backbreaking labor cutting peat for the elderly couple. To this day I still believe that pie was worth it. I’ve a love for sweets, and that’s a fact.
Meredith’s heart melted at the images passing through her mind of the two young boys with pie-stained faces, staring at their feet as their fathers lectured them about the consequences of stealing. Daniel had been adorable as a boy, and now she could see that his hair was a riot of reddish-gold ringlets.
Daniel paused again, seeming to ponder what to share next, and thinking about his home and family.
My favorite meal has always been my mam’s lamb pie, with its thick crust and delicious brown gravy. She always made that and a cake on my birthday. Each of us enjoyed our favorite meal and a cake on our birthdays, and luckily, her lamb pie was also my da’s favorite.
His nostalgia and deep love for his family coursed through her, and she saw each of his family members in her mind. He’d gotten his curls from his mother, who was a beautiful woman.
“You must swear not to reveal to anyone what I’m about to write, Meredith MacCarthy. Do you agree?”
“I agree.”
“Good.”
Until I turned twelve, I was afraid of the dark and believed there were creatures lurking beneath my bed, waiting for the chance to carry me off. Having to visit the privy in the dark was my worst nightmare, so I would not drink anything after teatime.
“That’s your big secret?” Meredith laughed. “For someone like me who actually sees the creatures hiding in closets and beneath beds, I can assure you, your fears were not unfounded.
“Aye?” He shuddered. “I would rather you hadn’t told me that. On to more mundane personal information,” he said before returning to the letter.
Also, I prefer to sleep on my left side, and I love the feel of cotton flannel against my skin. I prefer cotton flannel to linen or wool.
Meredith took in these additional personal tidbits, holding them close to her heart where she’d treasure them forever.
Nobody knows this next bit, not even my mam. When something was about to happen to someone I cared about, I’d get a strange feeling—a premonition I guess. I suspect I inherited a bit of the sight from my granny.
I’ve never told anyone until this moment, because I never knew from the feeling what would happen, only that something would. I had a premonition before my family fell ill. Knowing something bad was coming, knowing there was nothing I could do to stop it, was the worst thing I ever experienced.
I also had a premonition before Charles and I were robbed and murdered, but how was I to know exactly what was to befall us, when, or even where? It would’ve been better if I’d never possessed any kind of foresight. The subsequent feelings of helplessness, grief and frustration were unbearable.
“I’m sorry you went through that, Daniel. I also get those vague premonitions regarding people I care about,” Meredith told him.
“Aye? Well that’s something we have in common, and I swear to keep all your secrets if you’ll keep mine.”
“I swear.”
“This next bit is for Charles. Believe me when I tell you it is he who will need convincing the most,” he said before continuing. “He was born suspicious of the world and people around him, but he’s a good man. I trust him with my life.”
Charles, you and I have been best friends since we were both wee lads. Our parents were also good friends, and our families often spent time together. We lived in the same parish and attended the same school. Our friendship almost ended the year we both turned fourteen, and we fancied the same lassie. Remember Katherine Rose?
Thank goodness she didn’t fancy either of us back, aye?
A few more paragraphs, and he ended the letter, exhorting himself to take the warning to heart, and to do what was needed to bring the felons to justice.
“Do you wish me to try and share memories of our mining camp, love?”
“Not necessary. As you wrote about the day you were murdered, I saw your cabin and the shed. Anyway, I’ve come up with a plan that I believe will be fail-safe.”
“Did you now?”
She nodded. “Tomorrow evening, after my shift, I’ll meet you at your camp. I’ll use one of the diamonds and concentrate on the very spot where I’m standing at that moment. If all goes well, that very spot is where I’ll step into your life.”
“Tomorrow evening you say?”
“Yes.”
“That’s grand, love. I cannot wait to meet you.”
“Daniel?”
“Aye?”
“We’re done with the letter.”
“That we are, and a fine letter it is, written in my very own hand and all.”
Several seconds went by as she waited for him to think himself out of her. He didn’t. “Daniel …”
“I know, I know. It’s just that it’s such a wondrous feeling being with you like this.”
“Out.”
“Fine.”
He left her, and she shook her arms and then the rest of her before rising from the desk. She avoided his gaze, feeling awkward and a little shy after sharing such an intimate experience. “Do you suppose the ink is dry already?”
“Meredith, I have feelings for you. I’m sure you’re aware, especially after—”
“Of course you do. I’m here to save your life, to release you from more than a century and a half of being stuck here in phantom form. I suspect what you feel for me is similar to what some patients develop with their doctors or therapists.”
“I disagree. What my heart holds for you is more real than anything I’ve ever experienced. I’m hoping—”
Summoned in Time: A magical, ghostly, time travel romance... (The MacCarthy Sisters Book 3) Page 12