Once in a Blue Moon

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Once in a Blue Moon Page 13

by Kathryn Kelly


  He cushioned her head with his arm and snuggled behind her back. She backed against him, fitting herself perfectly against him. As much time as they’d spent together, they’d never lain in a bed together. Augustus hadn’t done anything that could tarnish her reputation. But now, that no longer seemed important. He wanted to seize every moment to be close to her, no matter the consequences.

  He’d let the girls get her undressed and into her nightgown. But he’d carefully wrapped a bandage around her head to stop the bleeding just over her right eye. He made sure the cloths were clean, just as he had seen her do.

  Other than that, he’d been helpless. She’d regained consciousness a couple of times, but she didn’t seem to know him or even to know herself.

  He read about cases where people with head trauma never woke up. Minny had watched helplessly as she’d tripped over her own skirts and had fallen on the stairs. Fortunately, she’d been standing on the landing and had fallen up, not down. Things could have been a lot worse, though right now, he was having a hard time being optimistic.

  She was the woman he wanted to live the rest of his life with. But now she was comatose and he was helpless to do anything about it. Even as a doctor he was helpless.

  The only thing he could do was to hold her. To hold her and to make sure that when she did wake, and she would wake - she had to - that he had kept her father alive.

  Chapter 80

  Arabella woke from a dream so vivid she turned over and ran a hand over the empty space on the bed behind her. She sat up and looked around her. It was completely dark other than a little sliver of moonlight coming in through the closed curtains.

  At first she couldn’t place where she was, but she recognized the huge four-poster bed she was in the middle of and the bureau on the other side of the room.

  She was in the plantation house left to her by her great-grandmother. She had a vague memory of coming here to learn more about this place and then being swept back to 1863.

  1863.

  It must be 1863 then because Jerry had the room in a state of disarray with his remodeling.

  She lay back down hugging the extra pillow to her, and breathed in its manly scent.

  Augustus.

  A jumble of memories came back in a rush. Augustus smiling at her across the top of the piano. Augustus picking her up. Kissing her lips. Hours of conversation. Tending wounded soldiers. He did the medical part and she listened to them talk.

  Wounded soldiers. Bullet wounds.

  Amputations.

  Charles Becquerel.

  Her father.

  Died June 12, 1863.

  From infection resulting from leg amputation.

  She threw the blankets off and slid off the edge of the bed. What was the date? Was she too late?

  Where were her clothes? She was wearing a nightgown. How had that happened?

  She’d brought medicine with her in her dress pockets. Augustus’ words played in her head. Hostetter’s Bitters. Quackery. There hadn’t been time to convince him that the medicine could save her father’s life.

  She glanced around, but it was dark. She didn’t have time to search for anything to wear.

  She padded to the door in her bare feet and her nightgown and threw the door open. The hallway was empty and the house was quiet. She didn’t know what time it was, but she could hear the ticking of the grandfather clock drifting from downstairs.

  She reached the door of her father’s bedroom and knocked. No answer. She knocked louder.

  She pushed the door open. “Father?” She stepped through the threshold and searched for him in the bed.

  Even in the darkness, she could see that the bed was neatly made. A quick glance told her that no one was in the room.

  No!

  Her hand still on the doorknob, she fell to her knees.

  I’m too late.

  Chapter 81

  Augustus puffed smoke from the cigar that Charles had found hidden away in his study. He’d been impressed by Charles’ skills at hiding things in plain view. He’d pulled the cigars from the inside of a hollowed out book from his bookshelf.

  “Did you always know you wanted to be a doctor?” Charles asked, his leg propped on the railing of the front porch.

  “Surely you jest. I was raised on a plantation, not much different from this one. I thought I’d grow up to be a farmer.”

  “What changed your mind?”

  “Besides the war?” Augustus shrugged. “Times changes. My father freed his slaves years ago at the first hint of our country changing.”

  “Sounds like he was a man ahead of his time.”

  “He was. He was one of the most proactive men I’ve ever known.”

  “Is he fighting?”

  “My father? No. He passed away from a heart attack when I was sixteen years old.” Augustus blew a smoke ring into the air. “That was probably when I first decided to study medicine. I remember my mother sent for a doctor, but the only person who would come out that far on that morning was a quack. I remember thinking that there should be more doctors.”

  “That must have been a difficult time.”

  Augustus scoffed. “You sound like Arabella. But, yes, it was difficult.” He watched his friend. Charles appeared to be in full recovery. “Do you plan to return to the army?”

  “What? No. The war is a lost cause and the time has come for me to take care of my own.”

  “I agree. I’ve been granted leave from the army.”

  “That’s good news then. But you’ll be staying on here?”

  “Of course.” Augustus blew a smoke ring. In truth he had many things to contemplate. Arabella was a confounding variable in any plans he was considering. He chose, however, not to voice these concerns to Charles.

  After the clock chimed eight times, Augustus pulled a little medicine bottle from his pocket, uncorked it, and handed Charles a pill. It wasn’t the original pill bottle. He’d broken that one trying to get it open. It was tucked away in his trunk. But Augustus had the instructions memorized and he watched the time like a hawk to make sure Charles didn’t miss a dose.

  At the mention of Arabella, he grew restless. Although he enjoyed Charles’ company, he checked on Arabella every hour. And had spent countless hours over the last two days holding her, willing her to wake up. To wake up and know who he was.

  She had his heart and this injury was unbearable, leaving him hanging by a thread. He’d gotten caught up in a few things and then Charles wanted to smoke a cigar, so it had been a few hours since he’d checked on Arabella. He grew restless.

  He stood up. “I appreciate the fine cigar, my friend, but…”

  Charles grinned. “But it’s time to check on my daughter.”

  “With your blessing, Sir.” He knew Charles would give it and he knew that even if he didn’t he wouldn’t stay away from Arabella.

  Just as he’d expected, Charles waved him off. “It’s good to be out of that bed. I’ve been relegated to it far too long.”

  “Shall I help you back to your room?”

  “No. Go ahead. I’ll get back.”

  “I’ll make sure someone comes for you soon.”

  “Please. Don’t hurry. I’m enjoying the fresh air.”

  Augustus went into the house and raced up the stairs. He heard several people talking at once.

  Then his stomach dropped when he saw someone kneeling on the floor. He’d been away too long.

  Just as he neared them, he watched as Villars helped Arabella to her feet.

  When she saw Augustus, she ran toward him. “Augustus.” Her eyes filled with tears as she took his arm and gazed up at him. Her fingertips dug into his arm.

  “How could you let my father die?”

  Chapter 82

  Augustus went to Arabella, but she turned away, a hand over her eyes. “I brought medicine.”

  “You did. Arabella.” He put a hand on her shoulder. When she didn’t pull away, he pulled her against him into a hug. “Arabel
la. The medicine. It worked.”

  She grew very still. Then slowly lifted her chin and looked into his eyes. “It worked? But?” She glanced toward the bedroom.

  Augustus smiled. “Your father is downstairs. On the veranda.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Of course. I just left him. He wanted some fresh air.”

  “I thought…” She turned her back to him, went to the banister and put her hands on the rail. He stood silently, counting the seconds. Waiting.

  “What happened?”

  “You tripped on your skirts and fell. You hit your head on the stairs.”

  “I don’t remember.” She shook her head.

  “You had amnesia.”

  “It was you? You took care of me?”

  “I sat with you for hours.” He didn’t tell her about the hours he spent lying with her, holding her close, willing her to regain consciousness.

  “I just slept the whole time?”

  “Pretty much. There wasn’t really anything I could do.” He wanted to tell how he feared she would never wake up. How he thought she’d been lost to him forever, but she needed time to orient herself.

  She turned back to face him. “How long was I out?”

  “Three days.”

  She looked down, ran her hands over her nightgown. He followed her gaze and noticed for the first time the sheerness of her gown. She seemed to notice is also as her face flushed with a lovely rose color. “I should… um. I’m not dressed properly.”

  Augustus took off his coat and helped her put her arms through the sleeves. It was far too big for her. He rolled the sleeves up so that her hands were free.

  He pulled the lapels together. “There.”

  Her lashes fluttered and he looked into her mesmerizing green eyes. Her lips parted and he wanted so much to kiss her. To taste her full lips again.

  But she was vulnerable and he held back, kissing her on the forehead instead.

  He put his arms around her and held her head against his chest.

  Chapter 83

  Arabella was enveloped in Augustus’ scent. His manly scent. Her arms went around him and she held on. She couldn’t get close enough to him. His jacket was long, covering her to her knees. It was surprisingly heavy. How did he wear this all day long without becoming exhausted?

  “You should sit.” Her eyes fluttered open. He released her and took her hand. They took two steps toward her bedroom.

  “Arabella?”

  She turned and saw Charles standing there only a few feet away, supporting his weight with a cane. He appeared to have both his legs. Relief flashed through her and her eyes welled with tears. “Father.” Her voice caught in her throat.

  Charles grinned and held out his free arm.

  Arabella closed the distance between them and threw her arms around her father. Family. She had family. She turned and smiled at Augustus, tears spilling from her eyes.

  Augustus nodded, then turned and walked down the hall toward his room.

  “Arabella.” Charles held her elbow. “My God.” He swallowed, then whispered. “You look so much like your mother.”

  “Vaughn said the same thing.”

  “Vaughn. She raised you?”

  “Yes.” Arabella’s smile turned upside down. “She passed away about a month ago.”

  “Oh, I hate to hear that. Ericka will, too. Vaughn was a good mother then?”

  “She was the best. And Jonathan.”

  “I’m sorry,” he said, wobbling.

  “No.” She took his arm. “Let’s sit.”

  “I’m so much better.” He sat in a chair just inside his bedroom door. She sat next to him. “And I understand I have you to thank for that.”

  “I um… I don’t know how much you know.”

  He grinned. “I know all about the time travel.”

  Arabella leaned forward. “I have so many questions. So many unanswered questions now that I’m here. Now that I’ve found you.”

  Chapter 84

  Augustus climbed into bed and stared at the ceiling. He’d left Arabella with her father. They had a lot of catching up to do and he didn’t want to intrude.

  Plus, he needed to think.

  She’d been quick to think that he’d let her father die.

  He shouldn’t blame her. He hadn’t exactly welcomed her treatment methods.

  But the medicine had worked. It was like a miracle drug. If he could get his hands on some of that... But all good things must come in time.

  It had occurred to him that perhaps she didn’t feel the same way about him.

  Now that she’d saved her father’s life, she’d want to get back to her own time.

  And rightly so. In her time, there was no need for amputations. There was medication to bring a man back from the brink of death.

  He could only think and hope that if he truly loved her, he would want her to go back to her own time. A time when she could be safe.

  He wasn’t able to provide the things she was accustomed to. He couldn’t even help her wake from a coma.

  If he loved her, he had to let her go.

  Chapter 85

  “So.” Charles was saying. “We figured out that something had happened and Vaughn had taken you with her.”

  “That must have been awful for you.”

  “It was heartbreaking. But we kept thinking she would come back. That she’d somehow find a way to get you back.”

  “She never told me about the time travel. She never even told me about this house. She left it to me in her will. The first night I was here I came back to 1863.”

  “And you stayed?”

  “Yes, until the other day when you came home.”

  “Ericka went back and forth several times before she stayed.” He sipped his brandy and leaned back in his chair. “I wonder why Vaughn kept you from us.”

  “I think she left a letter for me, but the ink got smudged and I wasn’t able to read it.”

  “That’s too bad.”

  “That might be an understatement.”

  “So tell me about your life in the future. How do you spend your days?”

  “I um... I listen to people talk about things that are bothering them.”

  Chapter 86

  When Arabella woke the next morning, the birds were already up. She’d stayed up late talking with her father. They’d had so many things to talk about. It had been a relief to have someone to talk to who understood enough about her life in the future to follow and… someone who didn’t think she needed to go to the insane asylum.

  Her father. It was still surreal to think about talking with the father she’d grown up thinking had died when she was an infant. How often as a child had she wished for just one conversation with him?

  The only thing missing had been Augustus.

  When she’d asked Charles about him, he’d shrugged it off, saying that Augustus was merely giving them some privacy.

  After washing her face, she dressed for the day. It would be a good day for a bath. She missed the daily showers she was accustomed to. At the most, she could go every other day.

  She went to sit at the vanity and began brushing her hair.

  It was then that she noticed a folded piece of paper tucked into the side of the mirror between the glass and the wood frame. She’d almost overlooked it. Wondering how long it had been there, she pulled it loose and with a feeling a dread unfolded it.

  My Dearest Arabella,

  You’ll wonder why I wrote you instead of speaking to you of this in person. The truth is I couldn’t bear to say good-bye. I’ve received permission to resign from the army and I must go home. I’ve received no communication from my mother and sisters in several months and I fear for their safety. Now that your father is well, I feel safe in leaving you in his care.

  Yours truly,

  Augustus

  Arabella reread the letter. She hadn’t seen Augustus since last evening when she’d been reunited with her father. Though she replaye
d the conversation over in her head, she couldn’t recall anything out of the ordinary other than Augustus walking off. Her father had assured her it was of no concern. In truth, she’d been so focused on Charles, that she’d barely noticed Augustus at that point.

  Chapter 87

  Augustus stood in the center of what had been his family’s plantation home and used a sturdy tree limb to search through the charred rubble. His heart was in his throat. He didn’t know if his mother and two sisters had survived the fire.

  He reached down and picked up a silver heart-shaped locket covered in soot and wiped it on his sleeve. He recognized it as one his mother wore. In fact, he rarely saw her without it. Using his fingernail, he opened the little locket door to reveal a likeness of his mother and father. They had been so young when they’d sat for the photograph. Probably even before Augustus was born.

  His mother wouldn’t leave this locket on purpose. His throat clutched as his mind raced at the dire possibilities that could have happened to his family.

  He prayed to God that they weren’t in the fire.

  A few minutes later, he saw his neighbor walking down his drive. Old Mr. Kenneth must be nearing ninety years old, but got around better than a lot of people twice his age. In fact, Kenneth was the oldest person Augustus had ever met.

  He waved as he neared Augustus. “I saw you come in on what’s left of that horse.”

  Augustus would have smiled, but his heart was too heavy. Kenneth could keep his sense of humor through anything. “What happened here?”

  “Yankees.”

  One word explained it all. Augustus lifted his hat and ran a hand through his hair. “My mother? My sisters?” Even as he asked, he dreaded the worst.

  “The Yankees run ‘em off before they set fire to it.”

  Augustus heaved a sigh of relief that almost took him to his knees. He had barely been able to take a breath from the moment he rounded the corner and saw the house burned to the ground, nothing left but the spiral staircase in the middle.

 

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