A Time To Dream

by Sherry Lewis

  He couldn’t allow her to stay in Summervale if she was this demented. He couldn’t put the twins in that kind of danger. And she must be a danger. If she wasn’t now, she soon would be. Look how deeply disturbed she was already.

  She turned her tear-stained face up to his. “I’m sorry, Zacharias. I should have told you weeks ago.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” he assured her. And in truth it didn’t. In fact, he was glad she hadn’t told him. At least he’d had this time to love her before he had to send her away.

  With her heart breaking, Shelby watched Zacharias drive away in his carriage. Though it hurt worse than anything she’d ever experienced, she knew she’d done the right thing. Imagine how he would have reacted if she’d waited until after they made love to tell him the truth. It would have been even worse.

  She heard the bedroom door open behind her and shut with a bang. “You told him, didn’t you?”

  Shelby nodded without taking her eyes from the empty drive. “I had to, Meg. I couldn’t deceive him.”

  Meg came to stand behind her. “I know you believe it, but what you told me is impossible.” She pulled Shelby around to face her. “Do you understand? Impossible.” She spoke slowly and loudly, as if she thought Shelby had lost her mind and her hearing at the same time.

  “I’m not crazy, Meg. I really am from the future.”

  “Agatha. . . ” Meg let out a heavy sigh. “Perhaps it would be wise not to repeat that where others can hear—especially Victoria.”

  “Yes. Victoria.” Just the thought of her made Shelby sick. “You don’t think Zacharias will tell her, do you?”

  “I don’t know. He loves you with all his heart, but he looked terribly worried when he left here. And this may be what finally convinces him to follow his mother’s advice.”

  “And lock me away?”

  “Yes.” Meg rubbed her arms gently. “Please, Agatha, for your own sake, don’t tell anyone else.”

  Shelby nodded slowly. “If only I could think of some way to convince you both. But telling you about the future won’t help. How would you know I’m not making it up?”

  Meg shook her head. “Don’t worry about it now, dear. I think a lie-down would be the best thing for you.”

  “I don’t want to lie down.” Shelby caught her reflection in the glass and scowled at it. “I want to find some way to convince you and Zacharias that I’m not crazy.”

  “After you rest. You’ll feel better afterward, I’m sure.”

  Shelby pulled away from her. “I’m not crazy, Meg. I’m in complete control of my faculties. Ulysses S. Grant is President of the United States, and Rutherford B. Hayes will be the next one. In just a few years, Mark Twain—or Samuel Clemens as you know him—is going to publish a book called The Adventures of Tom Sawyer based on his boyhood adventures here in Hannibal. He’s going to write a sequel, and they’ll become great pieces of American literature. He’ll be one of America’s most beloved literary figures.”

  “Sam Clemens?” Meg laughed aloud. “Oh, Agatha, really! Couldn’t you choose someone a little more believable? Great literary figure, indeed.”

  “It’s true, Meg. What do I have to do to convince you?”

  “Tell me what the weather will be tomorrow.”

  “Hot and humid,” Shelby said tersely. “I’m not clairvoyant, Meg, I’m from the future. I only know the big historical events.”

  “Well, then,” Meg kept her voice annoyingly gentle and soothing as if she was speaking to a child. “Tell me about some big historical event.”

  Shelby thought furiously, trying to remember something—anything—about Missouri, or more specifically, about Hannibal, but nothing came to mind. “What do you want to know about? The sinking of the Titanic? That doesn’t happen for about forty years. World War I doesn’t start until 1917, I think.” She ran one trembling hand along the back of her neck. “I don’t know what to say to convince you, but you have to believe me, Meg. You have to.”

  Meg’s gaze never faltered, his expression never changed, but something in her eyes seemed to shift. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

  “I’ve never been more serious in my life. Remember when I first changed? I didn’t recognize you. I didn’t remember anything about my parents? I didn’t even know who Zacharias was at first because I’d only seen a couple of old pictures of him in history books. And I’m here because, according to those same books, Agatha dies in just a few days. But she’s not supposed to, Meg. I know she’s not. And I’m here to stop it from happening. I’m here to save her life, only I’ve fallen in love with Zacharias and I’ve completely lost my heart to the twins, and you and Colin are like the parents I never had when I was growing up, and I don’t want to give her life back to her. I want to stay.”

  Meg didn’t say anything for what felt like forever. She let her gaze roam Shelby’s face and linger on her eyes. And then, slowly, shaking her head and smiling grimly, she finally broke her silence. “And so you shall, Shelby Miller. If I have anything to say about it, that is. Though I hope heaven will help us both if you aren’t who you say you are.”

  Agatha was crazy.

  No doubt about it, she’d gone stark, raving mad. The words echoed in time to Zacharias’s footsteps as he paced the floor of his study. And yet, even that didn’t change the way he felt about her.

  So, what was he going to do about it? He still hated the idea of divorcing her—perhaps even more now that he realized how ill she truly was. And the thought of staying married to her and putting the twins in danger made him break out in a cold sweat.

  There must be something he could do to help her. Maybe Dr. Messing would have a suggestion. He shook that thought away quickly. If he told Messing about this latest delusion of hers, Messing would commit her to an asylum faster than Zacharias could blink. Worse, the entire town would know, and there’d be nothing he could do to salvage her reputation.

  But why did he care about the reputation of a mad woman?

  He stopped by the window and stared at the row of trees, at the turrets of Summervale visible over their tops. Could it be that he believed her?

  No.

  A visitor from the future? Unbelievable. A strange woman inside Agatha’s body? Outrageous.

  Still, it would explain the sudden changes in her. It would explain why she’d suddenly become warm and caring and light-hearted. It would explain why she’d taken such an interest in the twins, why she’d suddenly decided she wanted to be their mother, why she’d suddenly become so passionate whenever he kissed her.

  Yes, it would explain a lot. Except that it was absolutely impossible, inconceivable, and absurd. A far more logical explanation was simple insanity. But how could an insane person be kinder, warmer, and more loving than a person in full possession of all their faculties?

  A dull ache started behind his eyes and moved to his temples. He rubbed them, gently at first, then more vigorously, as if he could rub away his confusion, as if he could make this whole thing make sense.

  “Sir? Begging your pardon, but Mrs. Starling is here. She wishes to speak with you.”

  Zacharias wheeled around to face Badgett. “Patricia?” Not now. He didn’t want to see her. Didn’t want to see anyone.

  He considered asking Badgett to tell her he wasn’t at home, but why postpone the inevitable? It was another problem he had to deal with. Another problem that wouldn’t go away if he ignored it.

  Squaring his shoulders and running a hand across his waistcoat, he nodded. “Show her in, Badgett.”

  He settled himself near the book shelves and tried not to look irritated by the interruption. Patricia swept in a moment later, dressed to the nines, her hair piled in coils atop her head, a sweet scent emanating from her, her cheeks rosy, her lips darkened with something that looked suspiciously like lip rouge.

  Zacharias’s heart sank. If she’d come looking like that, she must want something—and he had a pretty good idea what that something was. Still, he gave his best eff
ort to looking, if not pleased to see her, at least not displeased.

  She waited for Badgett to leave them alone, then smiled up at him from beneath her lashes. “Thank you for seeing me, Zacharias.”

  All of the usual responses he could have made sounded false, so he said only, “Of course. What can I do for you?”

  She toyed with the string on her fringed bag for a moment, then slanted a glance at the closed door behind her. “May we walk outside? I’d like to speak with you privately.”

  Where his mother couldn’t listen, no doubt. “Of course. In the gardens?”

  “That would be lovely.”

  Fighting apprehension, he motioned her toward the glass doors that led onto the terrace. Neither of them spoke until they’d descended the stone steps and put some distance between them and the house.

  Patricia made an innocuous comment about the weather. Zacharias responded in kind. She queried him about the Hastings’ ball the following week. He gave her a noncommittal reply. She stopped to sniff a flower. He waited with mounting impatience.

  Finally, after what felt like forever, she got to the point of her visit.

  “I’ve come to ask what you intend to do about our child.”

  Zacharias didn’t answer immediately. He didn’t know what to do or say. On the one hand, Agatha was clearly troubled. On the other, troubled or not, he was deeply in love with her. Still, what did his personal feelings matter when his sons needed a mother? What did his happiness matter when so much was at stake? Didn’t he owe his children stability? Didn’t they deserve a life without the taint of insanity?

  Patricia moved a little closer. “Zacharias, please. Don’t shut me out. I’ve given this so much thought, and it was so difficult for me to come to you this way.”

  “Yes,” he said slowly, forcing a thin smile, “I’m sure it was.” He extended his arm, and she slipped her hand beneath it. “You’ve given me a great deal of happiness over the years.”

  She lifted her gaze to meet his again. “No more than you’ve given me.”

  “And you’ve given me the most incredible gift of all—two healthy, fine sons.”

  Her eyes clouded. “Perhaps three.”

  “Perhaps.” He slowed and looked deeply into her eyes. “Perhaps. But I can’t give you what you’re asking in return. Whether it’s foolish or wise, I love Agatha.”

  “I’m not asking that you love me,” Patricia protested. “I love you enough for both of us.”

  He patted her hand gently. “Sadly, my dear, that isn’t possible. Trust me. I speak from experience.”

  “But—”

  He cut her off, hoping to spare her further embarrassment. “Our relationship was wrong, Patricia. Wrong. No matter what justifications I used to excuse it, it was wrong. And it’s simply not possible to start with a wrong and make it right. Even if Agatha and I don’t end up together, you and I cannot make something good and right out of something that began in the shadows.”

  Tears filled her eyes and made him feel like an incredible jerk. “How can you say that? I love you, Zacharias. Is love wrong?”

  “A love based on lies and deceit? Yes.” He stopped walking again and took her gently by the shoulders. “I don’t blame you, Patricia. I blame myself. I dragged you into this and allowed myself to exploit your kindness for my own selfish reasons.”

  Patricia wiped away a tear and frowned. “Your nobility is admirable, but let’s at least be honest with each other now. You didn’t use me or exploit me. I was a willing party. That’s why you came to me.” She smiled up at him, a semblance of the sultry smiles that had once set his blood boiling. “For that matter, I am still. And we do have the children to think about.”

  Zacharias stopped walking. “Let’s not kid ourselves about that, either. You didn’t want the twins when you found yourself inconvenienced with them. If you had, they’d be with you now. You turned them over to me anxiously, and you’ve not concerned yourself with them in the past five years.”

  “I’ve changed. Didn’t I join you at the pond the other day?”

  He shook his head without taking his eyes from hers. “No, Patricia, you haven’t changed.”

  “Agatha turned them away,” she argued. “Why will you believe that she’s changed, but you won’t believe I have?”

  “Agatha has proved herself. She has asked about the twins, spent time with them, listened to them, hugged them, cared for them. When did you last do any of those things?”

  “I can start.”

  “Why would you want to?”

  “Because they’re my children.”

  “They’ve always been your children, Patricia, yet you only make this offer when our future is threatened.”

  Her cheeks paled, her eyes seemed to lose color. “Isn’t she doing the same thing?”

  He smiled slowly, remembering. “Actually, no. She was quite willing to step aside and grant me a divorce so the twins could be with you.”

  A quick, pleased smile curved Patricia’s lips and the color returned to her face. “Then, there’s nothing to worry about.”

  “She offered,” Zacharias said, “and I refused.”

  “You refused?”

  “I refused. It seems that we have a situation reminiscent of King Solomon on our hands, don’t we? Only in this case, the real mother is more concerned with herself than with her children.”

  “How can you say that? You know how concerned I’ve always been with the twins.”

  “Concerned about getting them out of your way.” He stepped away from her and clasped his hands behind his back to prevent her from taking his arm again. Her touch chilled him to the bone. “I’m aware that you’ve been discussing sending them to school—”

  “Of course. But only because it would be the best thing for them. They need discipline.”

  “They need love.”

  “They need structure.”

  “They need security.” He glanced back at Winterhill, and smiled softly. “And laughter.”

  “And you think Agatha can give them that?”

  “I know she can.”

  Patricia’s face hardened. “If you try to keep my children from me, I’ll fight you. The truth will be exposed. Everyone will know—”

  “The truth.” He slanted a glance toward Summervale. “Perhaps it is time for the truth to be told.”

  Patricia’s face flamed. “You’d do that to me? What about the child I carry now?”

  “I’ll make you the same offer I made with the twins. If you truly want the child, I’ll not attempt to separate you from it. I’ll see to its financial needs—and yours, of course—once Dr. Messing verifies that there’s a child to consider. And if you don’t want it, I’ll bring it home with me and raise it with Mordechai and Andrew.”

  Not surprisingly, she didn’t move past his reference to the doctor. “You ask me to submit to something so vile as an examination to verify that I’m telling you the truth?”

  “If you want my assistance.”

  “Never. I refuse. I— I—”

  “That’s certainly your right,” he said evenly. “However, without proof, I’m afraid I can’t overlook the startling coincidence that you suddenly find yourself with child at this precise moment. I’m finding it difficult to ignore the very real possibility that you and my mother cooked up this scheme together in order to force my hand.”

  The blood rushed from her face and she darted such a quick, worried glance at the house, he knew Agatha—Shelby—had been right. When he realized that he’d started to believe in her incredible tale of traveling through time, he took another step away from Patricia and sketched a bow. “I’ve told you what I’m willing to do, Patricia. Now the choice is yours. I assume you’ll let me know your decision, once you’ve made it.”

  She stared at him for a long, breathless time, then picked up her skirts and pushed past him. He watched her go with mixed emotions, then tilted back his head and let the sun play across his face.

  Perhaps he
was the one who’d lost his mind, but he did believe her. Listing her virtues for Patricia had been the clincher. Agatha would never have put the twins’ needs before her own. Not in a million years.

  He couldn’t understand how it happened, he wasn’t certain he wanted to understand. But somehow, he’d fallen in love with a stranger—who just happened to be inhabiting his wife’s body.

  Shelby stepped back into the shadow of a tree and tried to catch her breath. Zacharias and Patricia had looked so comfortable together, so intimate, her head had begun to swim as she watched them. And when Patricia walked away and Zacharias gave in to a moment of such pure joy Shelby could feel it across the distance, the ground tilted so precariously beneath her feet, she knew she was about to be sick.

  She couldn’t decide whether to step out from her hiding place and let him know that she’d seen them together or rush back to Summervale pretend she’d never left it. It didn’t matter that she’d told him something that sounded so far-fetched she had trouble believing it herself. It didn’t matter that any man would have reacted with stunned disbelief and maybe even a little fear to such news.

  Rational or not, she hated knowing that Zacharias still didn’t believe her, and she hated him for rushing straight back to Patricia’s waiting arms. It said something about his character.

  She pushed away from the tree and smoothed her skirts carefully. But anger turned to fear, to worry and then to self-blame. A moment later her emotions flipped and ran the gamut again. She wanted Zacharias to believe her. She wanted to know he loved her, not Agatha.

  But maybe she had destroyed everything by confessing the truth. Maybe he’d never fall truly in love with Shelby—and even if he did, there was still the threat of being whisked back to her own time.

  If she let Zacharias think she was crazy, would Agatha die in a few days? If she did nothing, would Agatha live? Or would she die anyway? And just exactly where would Shelby be at the time?