by Kristy Tate
“Did you steal them?”
“No, not at all. The woman in the carriage gave them to me to hold, so I tucked them in my garter. When I went back to the twenty-first century, I still had them, just like I had your tie.”
“And now you still have them.”
“That worked out great, didn’t it?”
Jason shook his head. “You can’t keep them. They’re not yours.”
“Well, what am I supposed to do with them?”
“I don’t know—how about giving them back to the woman who gave them to you?”
“We don’t even know if they belong to her!”
“Well, we know they don’t belong to you!”
“I was going to use them to buy the shop.”
Jason straightened and pulled away from her. “Celia, look at me.”
She stopped and frowned at his bloody face. He blocked her path in more ways than one.
“Your grandmother doesn’t want the shop anymore.” He took a deep breath. “I’m sorry if that hurts you, but it’s true.”
“But I—”
He reached out and lightly touched her cheek. “It’s not about you.”
Celia’s shoulders sagged. Jason wrapped his arm around her. “I know you’re sad and disappointed, but you need to think of everything you do have, like an amazing inventory of dresses, fabric, and lace, and state of the art sewing machines. You have a place—that’s free—by the way. And most importantly, you have a gift.”
“A gift?”
“Yes, a gift, a talent, an eye for design—and that’s something that no one, not even a conniving lawyer can take away.”
They walked side by side, each held up in each other’s arms, their hips bumping as they moved down the muddy road. The wind-tossed trees shook their leaves at them. The rain spat in their faces, and the wind tugged on their clothes.
“What do you think we should do with the emeralds?” Celia asked.
“You don’t want to give them to the woman from the carriage?”
Celia slowly shook her head. “I’m not sure they’re hers. In fact, I really doubt that she came by them honestly. I don’t know why I think that, but I just do.”
They walked in silence, both lost in thought. After a moment, Jason said, “What if we give them to Old Lady West? She could use them to raise Percy and Honoria’s child.”
“How do you know that she’ll raise their child?”
“I don’t know for certain…It’s like I don’t know, but I know. And I also know that doesn’t make sense.”
Celia tightened her arm around Jason’s waist. “I think I know, too.”
“Let’s leave the emeralds for her to find.”
“But what if someone thinks she stole them?”
“So—we try and sell them?”
“Find a nineteenth century pawn shop?”
Celia blew out a sigh. All she wanted was to go home. It had been so effortless before. Could it be as easy again? “I just want to go home.”
Jason guided her down a path lined with a thorny hedge. “How’s this—if Old Lady West is home, we’ll find a way to sell the jewels. If she’s not home, we’ll hide them and hope she finds them.”
“And then we’ll go home?”
“If we can.”
Church bells rang through the dark night. The sound of horses’ hooves and running footsteps thundered through the woods.
“I wonder what’s going on,” Celia said.
#
Every step Jason took caused him pain. He hated that Celia had to half-carry him, but since he also loved being so close to her, he didn’t pull away.
The cottage looked dark and uninhabited. His steps faltered. “Huh, Celia? How do you feel about dogs?”
“I like dogs.”
“Even cow-sized dogs?”
She laughed. “That depends. Typically, I prefer dogs that I can throw around.”
“That’s an interesting image.”
“Not really throw around—but just show him who’s boss.”
“Huh.”
She gave him a sharp look. “What does that mean?”
Jason climbed the porch steps and knocked on the door. No one answered. Not even the dog barked. He looked up at the dark sky. “Maybe she’s sleeping.”
“Do you think the cow-sized dog is in the barn?”
Jason looked around at the dark trees surrounding the property. They looked as if they were about to swallow the house.
“No barn,” he said.
He knocked more loudly and the door shook beneath his fist.
Celia tried the latch and the door swung open.
Jason peered into the inky darkness. He remembered the cottage being small and sparsely furnished. Where could they hide the jewels? He wanted her to find them…eventually.
“What if she’s gone?” Celia asked.
“Gone where?”
“Anywhere,” Celia said with a shrug. “I mean…she could have died.”
He cocked an eyebrow. “Really?”
Celia thought. “Wait. I should know that.” After a moment, she shook her head. “I don’t remember…I’m not even sure if I ever knew.” She flushed. “I guess I was more interested in my side of the family than yours.”
“Come on. Let’s find a hiding place.” Jason stumbled over the threshold and pain flashed through him. He would have fallen if Celia hadn’t caught him.
“Huh-huh,” Celia said. “I’ll hide the emeralds. You’re lying down.”
“I can hide the jewels,” Jason said.
“No, you can’t,” Celia said, “because I have them, not you.”
Jason spun her, his grip strong. Despite the pain, he picked her up, carried her to the bed and deposited her. Looking down at her, proud of himself even while he ached in a hundred and one places, he said, “Stand and deliver.”
Celia scrambled off the bed and pushed him. The back of his knees hit the edge of the bed and he sat down with a thud.
“You lie down.” Celia pressed his shoulder, and he winced in pain. “We can talk about deliveries later.”
Jason grabbed her hand and pulled her on top of him. “If I’m going down—you’re coming with me.”
Wrapping his arm around her waist, he rolled on top of her, pinning her beneath him. Closing his eyes, he kissed her. She tasted exactly as he remembered. He wanted to savor the moment, because he knew it wouldn’t return. If there was anything that he’d learned in the last few days, or minutes, or seconds, or however much time had passed since his arrival in Cornwall, England, it was that time was fluid. It came and went, ebbed and flowed, not as the tide—not nearly as predictable—but as it chose. As if on a whim. And he had to capture each moment and make the best of it. And right now, he wanted to share each moment with Celia.
But could she feel the same? Her lips were warm. She returned his kiss. He expected her to throw him off and given his weakness—she easily could. But she stayed where he had put her. He couldn’t ask for more.
Outside, the wind howled and the storm blew, but inside the cottage, Jason, despite his wet clothes, felt warm and safe.
Lifting his lips, he leaned forward to rest his forehead on hers. “Will you still kiss me in the twenty-first century?”
She rolled over, so that she straddled him with her knees. “That all depends.”
“On what?”
“On whether or not you let me hide the jewels so that we can get back to where we belong.”
“I’m not stopping you,” Jason said.
“You’re holding my wrists to the bed.”
He grinned. “Ah, so I am.”
“I think you like it here.”
“I think you like it here, too.”
She nodded. “But we can’t stay.”
“We could kiss some more before we go.”
Celia leaned forward and touched his lips with hers. A long moment later, she sat up.
“Don’t go,” Jason murmured.
“The
sooner I hide the jewels, the sooner we can leave.” She looked around.
“Just put them under the mattress.”
Celia nodded. “It’s funny. I really wanted to keep the emeralds, but now that I’ve decided to give them away, I just want to do it as fast as I can so that I won’t change my mind.”
“Okay, so do it.” Jason pushed himself up onto his elbows to watch.
Celia swung off of him, sat at the edge of the bed, lifted her skirts and pulled the emeralds from a pink, lacy garter. Jason wanted a closer look at the garter and wondered if he’d ever get another chance.
Celia was obviously in business mode. She clasped the emeralds in her hand and shoved them underneath the mattress.
Jason reached for her, but Celia placed her hands on his chest, holding him off.
“No more kissing until we’re home.”
“What? Why?”
“Because all I can think about is you when you’re kissing me, and I need to think about going home.”
Jason didn’t like it, but he saw her point. “You don’t get to make up the rules.”
“In case you haven’t noticed, neither one of us are making up the rules.”
“Then who is?”
Celia lifted her shoulder. “Who—or what—ever brought us here.”
Jason sat beside her and picked up her hand. “Then let’s tell who or what that we’re ready to go home.”
Celia nodded. Squeezing his hand, she said, “On the count of three, we both concentrate on going home.”
Jason counted down. He listened to the blowing storm while he waited. Nothing happened. He glanced over at Celia. She had her eyes closed and her lips pressed together. He couldn’t help it. He leaned over and kissed her. She responded briefly before pulling away.
“No!” She tried to push him away, but he didn’t budge. “You’re supposed to be thinking of going home.”
“I tried that. It didn’t work.”
“You’re not trying hard enough.”
Jason took a deep breath. “Have you thought that maybe there’s a reason for us being here?”
“You don’t think we’re here because we drank from the Witching Well?”
“Well—no pun intended—there’s that. But I think there must be more.”
“And we just haven’t done it, yet?”
Jason nodded. “The first time you came back—how did it happen?”
“An older Jason gave me a drink of water.”
“And you think that was me?”
“I didn’t before, but I do now.”
Jason looked out the window at the dark sky filled with stars. “I wish I knew why.”
“I know why.”
“You do?”
Celia smiled. “You like kissing me, and the older Jason knew that would never have happened if we didn’t come here.”
“No. There’s got to be more than that.”
“Isn’t that enough? My liking you is a huge change of heart.”
“I would have won you over.”
Celia shook her head. “No way. Never would have happened.”
Jason wrapped her in his arms. “I’m going to win you over right now.”
Celia squirmed and pushed him away. “That can’t happen! You’ve already won me over.”
“Really? Completely?”
He pushed her back down on the bed, but before he could kiss her, the door flew open and a voice called out, “Well here’s a fine kettle of fish to fry!”
Jason fell back onto Celia.
“And now we’re fish,” he whispered in her ear.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Jason stood, took Celia’s hand and pulled her up to stand beside him. “Mistress West,” he said. “Let me introduce Miss Celia Quinn.”
Old Lady West placed her hands on her hips. “Giving her a name doesn’t give you an excuse for making hay on my hay mattress.”
“We weren’t making hay, we were just waiting for you.”
She narrowed her eyes. “What for?”
Celia cleared her throat and spoke up. “We wanted to tell you the good news that Percy and Honoria do have a child, and that you’ll all live a really long and happy life.”
Old Lady West sank into a chair by the fire. She rocked forward and placed her head in her hands. “I’m afraid that’s not possible.”
“But it’s true,” Celia said. “I saw it on the website.”
“Website? You not only time-travel, but you also read fortunes in spider webs?” Old Lady West took a deep, ragged breath. “No. There was a shipwreck tonight. I believe that Percy and Honoria were both on that ship.”
“Why would you think that?” Jason asked. “For all you know, they’re both safe and sound in France.”
Old Lady West barked out a harsh laugh. “No one is safe or of sound mind in France, and you know it!” She uncurled her fist from her pocket and drew out a gold watch. “Besides, I found this on the shore. It belonged to his father.”
The watch sparkled in the moonlight.
“Maybe it’s not his,” Celia said.
“Of course it is! I would recognize my own husband’s watch, wouldn’t I?”
Celia wondered when watches became mass-produced. Before then, they must have been really valuable.
“Maybe someone stole it,” Jason said.
“They’re gone.” Old Lady West pounded her fist on her chest. “I can feel it here.”
Jason turned to Celia. “You know, maybe just like the older me came to help us, we need to help Percy and Honoria.”
“But what can we do?”
Jason shrugged. “We can gather blankets and flasks of whiskey and go and look for survivors. I bet Montgomery would help.”
“But we don’t even know where to go,” Celia said.
“I can show you,” Old Lady West said. “But I must warn you, you will see things you don’t want to see, smell things you don’t want to smell, and those sights and smells will linger in your mind for the rest of your lives.
#
Celia stood in the shelter of the barn, shivering in the dark, soaked through. Jason had thrown his cloak over her shoulders—she didn’t know if he had given it to her to keep her warm, or because it was in his way. Either way, she was grateful.
Jason, Montgomery, and a collection of Montgomery’s men worked as a team to fill a wagon with needed supplies. The wind had lost a twinge of its anger, but it still blew—moaning and whistling through the stables.
The Clydesdales stomped their feet and shook their harnesses as if they, too, were trying to stay warm. The lanterns cast a shivery and surreal glow.
“What’s all this?” a woman’s voice spoke.
The men’s labors paused as they turned to watch Penelope emerge from the darkness. She wore a cloak thrown over her nightgown.
Montgomery, with his arms loaded with blankets, stepped forward. “There has been a shipwreck. We are going to help.”
“Oh,” Penelope hugged herself and cast a glance at Mrs. West and Celia. “Then I shall join you.”
“No.” Montgomery turned his back on her to deposit the blankets in the back of the wagon. “’Tis no place for a woman.”
Penelope stomped in front of him, placed her hands on her hips and addressed him. “’Tis a public beach, I’m sure.”
Montgomery ran his hand through his hair and looked at the barn’s ceiling, studying the spiders and the cobwebs.
“Penelope,” he finally said. “Please, return to your bed. The conditions will be harsh, the weather vicious.”
Penelope bobbed a small curtsey at Mrs. West. “How do you do?”
Mrs. West nodded in return.
“Are you both going to the seashore?” Penelope asked Mrs. West and Celia.
“We are going to help, of course,” Celia said. “But we’re also looking for Mrs. West’s grandson.”
“Then I shall assist you,” Penelope said.
Montgomery made a guttural sound that sounded a lot like an a
ngry dog.
“Mrs. West,” Penelope turned to the older woman. “You must be a relation?”
Mrs. West and Jason shared a conspiratorial glance.
“Distant relations,” Jason said.
“So, you are in search of your cousin,” Penelope said. “Have you reason to believe he was aboard the doomed ship?”
“His watch was found in the sand,” Mrs. West said.
“But he has not been found,” Penelope said.
Montgomery stepped in front of her. “That is hard to determine. The ocean can fill and distort a body. Fish, too, can make short work of a man’s features.”
“You’re trying to frighten me, Montgomery,” Penelope said. “And I’m telling you that it won’t work. I refuse to be left behind.”
Montgomery bent so that his nose nearly touched Penelope’s. “There are lives to be saved, and bodies to be salvaged. It will be cold, wet, and the hour is late. Should you join us, you must stay until our work is done. There will be no time for feminine sensibilities.”
“Stuff and nonsense!” Penelope stepped forward so that the toes of her shoes touched Montgomery’s boots. “There is always a need for a woman’s sensibilities.” She cast her eyes around and settled on a boy holding a lantern. “You there, what’s your name?”
“Robert, miss.”
“Robert, do you think you could find me a Bible?”
“Why, I suppose I could find one in the chapel, miss.”
“Good, can you fetch me one, please? I would go myself, but I’m afraid that should I attempt it, Mr. Montgomery would surely leave without me.”
Robert smirked and shuffled his boots in the straw.
“I will hold your lantern.”
Robert cast Montgomery a questioning glance, to which Montgomery nodded his approval. Without saying a word, Montgomery placed his hands on Penelope’s waist and hoisted her into the wagon. Then he threw a blanket at her head.
Penelope ducked and smiled, victorious.
“What’s the Bible for?” Celia whispered to Penelope.
Penelope looked at her as if she’d grown horns. “To provide comfort, of course.”
The three women huddled beneath a blanket in the wagon, while the men rode on horseback. The driving rain beat down on them and the wind toyed with their makeshift shelter. The wagon rattled through potholes, and the wheels spat mud with every rotation.