“Oh, Ronnie, that’s a perfect idea. Frankie—he’ll be here by then.” She grinned at him with a dare. “Margot plans to bring him on New Year’s Eve. He can walk me up the aisle.”
Ronnie frowned, eyes smiled. “How old is our boy, anyway?”
“Four.”
“Then he’ll need my help.” Ronnie’s kiss flickered across her lips, let her taste his love. “With me on the other side of you. The three of us. What do you say?”
“Exactly what I’ll say then. I will.”
About the Author—Tanya Hanson
California beach girl and country grandma, Tanya Hanson is always on the trail of a tender tale, whether it's historical, contemporary, or true-to-life. She loves those cowboys, outlaws, and even medieval lords. You can find her at www.tanyahanson.com and www.petticoatsandpistols.com
Timeless
Jesse J Elliot
A rupture in the earth throws a rejected novelist into a century she knows only by research. Will this chaotic event find her love?
Annie Mills sat on the floor in her Santa Cruz apartment. Rejection. It should be her middle name. When she’d sent her novel manuscript out into the world, she’d expected…acceptance. No, she’d expected joyous acceptance. From multiple publishers.
This was the fifth rejection she had received this week. No…no, it was number six. She forgot to count her boyfriend Josh’s response to her spontaneous proposal of marriage. That made six rejections—definitely a new record.
“Wonder which I should cry over most?” She turned back to her rejection letter from the publisher. All that research, time, and love she had poured into her book, and no one wanted it. “Right along with all the love I poured into my relationship with Josh!” And he doesn’t want me, either. Her anger was quickly replaced by a wave of dejection that engulfed her. She put her head down into her hands and moaned.
She had dated Josh for more than two years. They had recently spent a week in New Mexico, roping and herding cattle on a dude ranch near the property that her grandparents used to own. They had camped outside with a roaring campfire nearby, and made love in their tent while the others sang cowboy ballads of unrequited love. Josh told her it was the greatest experience of his life. What had changed? Was the thought of marriage too much for him? Commitment? What? She knew he thought she had more money than she had. Was that the reason? In the back of her mind, the idea had niggled her, on occasion.
The little inheritance she had from the grandparents who had raised her gave her enough money to attend a school in California and live comfortably with just a part time job. The research she had completed on her Masters degree in history provided the data she needed for her book, coupled with the practical experience she had received growing up on a ranch in rural New Mexico.
Her thoughts returned to Josh. He was good looking, intelligent, and he had a great sense of humor, but she realized that it was she who usually footed the bill for their nights out and their occasional vacation, the latest being the costly visit to the dude ranch. Had she been too honest when she revealed to him that the bulk of her inheritance was gone and she was counting on the publication of her book to replenish her bank account?
“Josh probably loved the money he thought I had…” Her eyes welled with tears of bitterness as well as disappointment. She knew no one she could call and pour her heart out—all her family was gone, and for the past two years, she had spent most of her time with Josh, losing track of other friends.
She knew that, in spite of losing her parents, she was luckier than most. Her grandparents had raised their one grandchild to love and appreciate the outdoors. She could ride, rope, and hunt as well as any male hand they had employed on their ranch, but for her, it wasn’t enough. She had wanted to see a world outside of New Mexico, and so she’d moved away to college in California.
Her grandparents attended her graduation, but had become sick shortly after. Her grandmother died, and within eleven months, her grandfather passed, as well. She inherited everything from the sale of the ranch, but after five years of education and paying rent in an expensive area, her savings were almost depleted.
Information she should not have shared with Josh on their vacation in New Mexico.
It was getting dark, and she was tired of thinking about Josh and her rejection letters. She got up to turn on the television. Suddenly, the floor started moving, and her kitchen cabinets emptied. The sound of breaking dishes and cracking walls was ear-shattering. She started for the door, but something hit her on the head, and everything went black.
****
Annie awoke with a splitting headache. She opened her eyes slowly, sensing bright sunlight shining on her face. Her back hurt, and apparently, her wrist was sprained or broken.
“Ohhhh,” she moaned. “D-did the roof cave in on me?”
“No roof, ma’am, just an overturned stagecoach. Are ya all right? We’ve been worryin’ about you.”
In spite of the brightness, Annie opened her eyes immediately when she heard the word “stagecoach.” Just what kind of joke was someone playing? “I really don’t think that’s very funny, mister…” She looked up at the man speaking to her…and the stagecoach under her.
She wasn’t in Santa Cruz. She was lying in an overturned stagecoach on a hard-packed dirt road. The men leaning over her were dressed in Old West style clothing, except dirtier and a bit smellier than the cowhands on her grandparents’ ranch or the dude ranch. No one in Santa Cruz dressed like that. If anything, they would be dressed in surfer garb or hippie clothes.
Her head still hurt, but her eyes now focused on the cobalt-blue sky of New Mexico with the Sandia Mountains in the background. However, the Sandia Mountains she was seeing were free of the creeping urban sprawl that engulfed them by her time. No houses were visible on the pristine lower part of the mountains, and she couldn’t find the tram that led to the ski slopes and restaurant at the top of the mountain. The TV and radio towers that covered the mountain were also gone.
She looked closer at the man who was talking to her. His face was grizzled and unshaven. His clothes were covered with dust, and his breath smelled of tobacco and something foul he had possibly had for lunch.
“I’m sorry,” she said, trying to refrain from screaming and losing her composure as fear gripped her. “I—I didn’t mean to be rude, but I’m confused about where I am and how I got here.”
“Don’t you worry none, little lady. The driver went to fetch the doc and wire ahead to Gallup that the stage would be late.”
“But how did the stage tip, and how was I in it?” she asked, buying time that would either uncover a huge and cruel hoax or explain how she ended up a hundred years in the past in Albuquerque.
“We had one of the worst rain storms I can remember. The last clap of thunder and lightning hit that there post and freaked them horses. You were still in the coach waiting for the rain to ease up some when the horses reared up and bolted, overturning the coach.”
Annie sat up and then grabbed her wrist in pain. She looked around again. She could now see what was left from the storm. “Isn’t early October a little late for a thunder shower this strong?”
“Ma’am, you’re mighty right. This here is October, and this rain is unusual ’cause it’s not sleet.”
Annie was about to ask which year it was, but a well-dressed man walked quickly over to where she lay.
“Gus, no more questions for awhile, eh? Let me check my patient, please.” The doctor was professional and very European in his dress. He spoke with a Welsh accent, and Annie relaxed. She couldn’t take her eyes off his handsome face. He was easily the most attractive man she had ever seen.
He must be near thirty, and was not at all like Josh, but striking in a mature, polished way. She just stared at him as he took her pulse and then took out his stethoscope. “My name is Dr. Thomas. Please, breathe in and out. Ah-ha! Sounds good. Do you know your name?”
“Annie,” she answered, “I think.” She mu
st try to avoid any complications if she was supposed to be someone else.
He then had her look up, checking her pupils. “You were unconscious for a while, I heard, and now, confused. I fear you may have a mild concussion.”
“But my memory. Is it possible I’m suffering from amnesia?” she asked him, not taking her eyes off his face.
He gave her a questioning look. “What you know about amnesia?”
She shook her head.
“Well, I hope that this inability to remember is temporary, Miss Mills. Your full name is Sarah Mills, and your family should be along any time now to fetch you. The storm probably held them up. In the meantime, let me help…”
She flinched as he touched her wrist. “I think I’ve broken it. I might need an—” She was about to say “x-ray,” but caught herself.
“Let’s limit the movement of your wrist until we get you back in the office. I’ll leave word for your family.” He wrapped her wrist, then secured it in a sling. He looked at her and smiled. “And the other wrist, Miss Mills, may I touch it to help you up?”
“Yes, but I have to say, my back is killing me.”
“‘Killing you’? I dare hope not. An interesting expression—I hope there is no actual damage that serious.” He motioned for one of the other men. “Gus, please run to my office and get the stretcher and volunteers. I think we may need to carry Miss Mills in case there is additional damage to her back.”
“Yes, sir, Doc, be right back,” and he disappeared in the crowd.
“Miss Mills, can you move your right foot? Very good. Your left one now? Can you lift your right leg? Now, your left one. Yes,” he said as she complied with all his directions, “I feel safe in saying that your back may be bruised, but so far, it should not be ‘killing you’ anytime soon.” He smiled.
People were now crowding around the Plaza. Some apparently recognized this Sarah, and she could hear her name being whispered. She wasn’t sure how to respond since she didn’t recognize anyone. She just closed her eyes and slept.
****
When she awoke, she heard a man and woman sharing information about her—both with Welsh brogues. The handsome doctor and someone else…was he married? Figured. Everything else that day had gone wrong, and here she was, apparently in the late nineteenth century, alone in a strange bed in a doctor’s office with a full bladder. She opened her eyes and saw the two of them, sitting close and discussing her condition.
“Excuse me,” Annie said desperately, “could someone help me? I need to use…” She stopped and blushed. The doctor excused himself—was that a shadow of a smile on his face? And the young woman, probably his wife, came over and verified her need for a chamber pot. When she was done, she looked around, and wanted to cry with relief. Toilet paper!
“TP! I can’t believe you have it this far west,” Annie exclaimed delightedly.
“TP? Ah, T for toilet and P for paper. How clever. Yes, we have it shipped out here. We can make do with the outside toilets, but Drystan and I insist upon some modern comforts,” the young woman responded.
“Thank you,” Annie said. “Has anyone heard from my family yet?’
“No, not yet. Are you beginning to remember them, Miss Mills?”
“Not really. I only heard your husband mention that they were coming.”
“My husband? Oh, you mean my brother. Just because we’re both Welsh, everyone thinks we’re married. I’m Jenifer Thomas, Miss Mills.”
“Please, just call me Annie.” They both smiled.
They were interrupted by a knock on the door and Dr. Thomas asking if it was all right to enter. “Sarah,” he said softly, “your family has arrived. Are you feeling well enough to see them now?”
More curious than joyful, more nervous than afraid, Annie just nodded.
Voices came from the next room, and the sound of a man and woman thanking the doctor stood out. Then, a small woman and a large man entered the room. The woman ran to the narrow bed where Annie was lying, bending to kiss her cheek. “Oh, darling, we heard about the accident and were so worried. We had to stop and wait until the water receded in several arroyos. Are you all right?”
The man with her entered and stood beside his wife—her father, she assumed. Annie was tongue-tied. What should she say to these people who were supposedly her parents? Annie looked at these caring people and felt guilty that she was not who they believed. But there was no way to explain it—she didn’t know how this had happened, either.
Luckily, Dr. Thomas came to her assistance. “Mr. and Mrs. Mills, your daughter is suffering from a head injury. She had a concussion, and as a result, she appears to have lost her memory.”
“Can she remember how to talk? Does she remember us?” asked her mother, her face now in a shadow of concern.
“She has all her language skills intact, and she knows about everything in general, it would appear, but she doesn’t remember specific people, dates, and events,” Dr. Thomas responded.
“Will her memory come back?” her father asked, turning to her and speaking for the first time. “Sarah, can you talk to us?”
Annie looked at these two concerned parents and tried to think of something that would console them without giving away too much. “I can understand everything, and I know you’re my parents because everyone told me. I hope I’ll remember everything soon. I’m really trying.” She smiled at them.
“Well, Doc, what do you think we should do? Sarah’s brother and sister came in to greet her, and we’re all excited about getting her home, but we can stay in town until she’s able to travel. I’ve got men watching over the ranch, so we’ve got time to wait until you think our girl is ready to leave,” Mr. Mills explained.
“Oh, Sarah,” Mrs. Mills said, bending over her daughter. “This is not how I pictured your homecoming, but we’ll stay as long as we need to in town. Are you feeling well enough to see Adele and Robert?” She paused and then added, “Your sister and brother.”
Once again, Dr. Thomas intervened. “How about waiting until tomorrow? Sarah has had a lot to deal with today. How about taking your family to dinner and then coming back to visit—just you two? Depending on how she is tomorrow, let’s tentatively plan for a family reunion then.”
“Of course, Doctor.” Mrs. Mills turned toward her daughter. “We’ll see you after dinner, dear. Should we send you something to eat?”
“Let’s try a little soup first, Mrs. Mills. Generally after a concussion, there is a tendency for possible ah—voiding of the stomach. So far, she hasn’t exhibited this problem, but let’s not push it.”
“Certainly, Doctor. We’ll return after dinner. We need to get to the stage depot and get her boxes. She must be exhausted after her long trip from New York. I wish she had taken the train from Lamy, but for some reason, the train was unable to proceed—so she took the stage for the last part of her trip,” her father said. He bent over to kiss her forehead. Her mother touched her hair and kissed her cheek. They said their good-byes and left.
Annie could hear her family’s disappointment at not seeing her as they had planned, but then the door closed, and she was alone with the doctor.
“You have quite a family, Miss Mills. You are a very fortunate woman. So, you were coming home from Vassar. What did you study?” he asked curiously.
“I don’t know,” she responded. God help her if it was Greek or Latin. Once again her eyes grew heavy, and though she didn’t want to end the conversation with the doctor, she fell asleep until her broth came about an hour later.
****
The next day, Annie was able to get up by herself. With a little help from the doctor’s sister, she was able to wash and dress. In a clean, sky-blue dress, she felt better, but oh, how she longed for a long, hot shower. Half the time, she remained worried that she would never get home; the other half, she wanted to scream and accuse everyone she had met of participating in a grand hoax. However, she kept her fears to herself, remembering that in this time, it was exceedingly eas
y to be institutionalized for such accusations. If she really was lost in time, then maybe she could make things work.
A full-length, smoky cheval mirror allowed her, for the first time, to see herself as she looked now. Like her old self, this girl had curly black hair and blue eyes. Disappointed that she was no Elizabeth Taylor, but relieved that she didn’t have any warts on her nose and chin, she continued to stare at her new self.
This young woman was firm and well-proportioned. She, too, must have been active on the Mills Ranch. She was a bit smaller around the bustline than Annie had been, but without the use of bras, this was somewhat comforting.
Dr. Thomas knocked on the door. “May I come in, Miss Mills?”
“Please do, Doctor. I think I’m ready to go home—where ever that might be.”
“I was really hoping that your memory would return, but time should work things out. In the meantime, you have a loving family here to take you home. When the roads are dry, you’re only a couple of hours from town, so if you need me, please send a brother or ranch hand to get me. I am at your service,” he concluded.
“Thank you, Doctor. I felt I was in very capable hands. Perhaps you and Jenifer can come out to our place sometime for a Sunday get-together, and my family can repay you both for your kindness.”
Surprise touched the man’s face. Was she too forward, she wondered?
Then, slowly, he relaxed and smiled. “I think Jenifer and I would love to do that sometime. Now, however, you need to meet the rest of your family,” he said, and he turned to open the door. Two younger versions of herself came through the door, both with the addition of a few dark freckles around their noses.
“Sarah!” the younger girl ran up to her and hugged her. “Thank goodness, you look all right, but Mother and Father said you don’t remember us! Is that true?”
A Mail-Order Christmas Bride Page 19