Begun by Time

by Morgan O'Neill

  “Catherine, hello,” Poppy called out.

  She glanced up and smiled. Poppy looked wonderful. Her cheeks were flushed and full, the dark circles beneath her pretty eyes gone, and she seemed happy.

  They embraced and went inside, where they were quickly seated, given menus, and left alone.

  “Thank you so much for meeting me,” Catherine said, tucking her gloves in her handbag. “You look well.”

  “Gosh, thanks. I’m feeling better. Tell me, how are you? How are the wedding plans coming along?” She leaned in. “You seemed a bit worried on the telephone. Is anything the matter?”

  Catherine didn’t answer right away, searching for the correct words to explain her predicament.

  “Oh, no,” Poppy’s voice dropped to a whisper. “I can tell by your expression that something is wrong. Tell me. I’ll never breathe a word, you may be sure.”

  “Well, there may be a bit of a medical issue hanging over us, actually.”

  Poppy’s eyes went wide. “Are you…expecting?”

  “Poppy! No! It’s nothing like that. We’ve never, you know. No!” Catherine felt thoroughly flustered and tried to regain control of her thoughts. “It’s Jonnie. I think he may be seriously ill, and I don’t know what to do about it, where to turn, or if I will be capable of taking care of him, once we’re wed.”

  Poppy’s hand went to her heart. “What in the world? I’m dashed. Do tell me how I can help.”

  Catherine took a deep breath and forged ahead. “I love Jonnie with all my heart, and I honestly don’t know what to do.” The tight ball of nerves that lodged in her chest when Jonnie confessed his visions at the Cutty Sark suddenly broke loose in a sob. Her eyes filled with tears. “I…I love him so much, Poppy. It would break his heart if he knew how helpless I feel, and I wouldn’t hurt him for anything in the world.”

  The waitress came by, and Catherine turned her face away while Poppy ordered tea and scones for both of them.

  Once the waitress was gone, Poppy touched Catherine’s hand again, to get her attention. “Tell me what has been going on. What sort of illness do you believe he has?”

  Catherine regarded her friend through watery eyes. “I’m sorry to burden you with this, but you are the strongest person I know. You’ve been through so much, and you have gained wisdom through your ordeals that I couldn’t hope to claim.”

  Poppy shook her head. “I’m not that strong,” she said quietly.

  Catherine felt a stab to her heart. This self-doubt reminded her of what Jonnie felt, and she didn’t want either one of them questioning themselves. “You are very strong, Poppy.”

  She sighed. “Perhaps. I tell myself to keep soldiering on every day.”

  “And you’re doing a splendid job of it.” Catherine daubed at her eyes as their food was set on the table. “Now let me explain about Jonnie.” She told his story from the first instance at Hatfield House right through to the Cutty Sark.

  Finally, Catherine pushed her plate away and waited for Poppy’s response. She could feel the ball of tension again forming in her chest. What would her friend think of all of this?

  Poppy shook her head. “What a strange situation. You must be going out of your mind with worry.”

  “It hasn’t been easy.”

  “Has Jonnie received medical care?”

  “Yes,” Catherine said. “He’s seeing a neurologist and a psychiatrist—off base—and we’re hopeful this will help. I’m proud of him for doing that. Most men wouldn’t.”

  “I’m sure everything will work out just fine, and I’ll always lend an ear if you need to talk. Just remember something.”

  “Yes?”

  “You simply need to put one foot in front of the other,” Poppy said. “Some days, that will be all you can manage. I have every confidence you’ll have no issues in helping Jonnie, if that is what he needs, and if that is what you choose. There is only one question you must ask yourself… If you decide you don’t wish to be by his side through sickness and health, will you be able to live a lifetime without him?”

  Catherine’s mouth dropped open. So few words, yet they clarified what she felt in her heart. She loved Jonnie and could not imagine life without him.

  …

  On 23 September, Brandon came into London for a two day leave. He arrived at Catherine’s doorstep at half four, ready for an early start at a whirlwind evening of dinner and dancing.

  She wore a tailored black dress with sharp shoulders and a low-cut, scalloped neckline that showed off her beautiful curves to perfection. A fancy little hat perched on her head, jauntily cocked to one side, and she had a pair of pumps so shiny he could see his reflection in them.

  “You look like every man’s dream,” he said, and leaned in to kiss her on the cheek. “I’m glad you’re mine.”

  “Thank you,” she replied, and took his hand. She eyed the black cab waiting curbside. “This is all so last minute, I hardly had time to throw something together. Is there a special occasion I should be aware of?” Her voice grew hushed. “Are you all right?”

  “Yes to both of your questions. Not too worry. I’ll tell you more later,” he said. They climbed into the cab and got settled.

  “Where to, sir?” the cabby asked.

  “Victoria Embankment Gardens, if you please.”

  They arrived just before sundown. It was a lovely evening along the Thames. Clear and crisp, the clouds wispy and tinged with the pinks and purples of an autumn sunset. They watched ships of every make and style plying the waters and enjoyed the bustling joy of a city in rebirth.

  With her arm tucked inside his, Brandon and Catherine strolled along the river. He stopped at one vantage point and turned her toward him, his heart full and in need of expressing itself. “I love you, Catherine. You make me so happy.”

  “Oh, Jonnie, I love you, too,” she replied softly. “Perhaps more than you could ever know.”

  They remained looking at each other for a moment, and then Catherine’s expression began to change. Her brows scrunched together, and the corners of her pretty mouth turned down as she squinted her eyes in consideration.

  “What is going on, Jonnie? Please tell me. The suspense is killing me, and I am worried.”

  Brandon looked deep into her eyes. He wanted to gauge her reaction and hoped it would be one of relief and joy. “I’m taking you out to dinner tonight in celebration of the fact it has been one month exactly since my last episode.”

  Catherine’s mouth opened with a small gasp as he continued, “The others all happened within several days of one another, but there’s been nothing since the Cutty Sark. I believe I’ve vanquished them, and we’re in the clear, my darling.”

  Tears brimmed in her eyes, turning them a bright, translucent green. And then she threw her arms around his neck.

  She suddenly pushed back and took his face in her hands. “Oh, Jonnie, I’m so happy for you! I know how much they worried you.”

  He grinned and pulled her close and, just as his lips touched hers, he whispered, “Thank you, darling. I don’t know what I would do without you.”

  Chapter Eleven

  The train into the city clacked a steady, comforting rhythm, and the autumn scenery was a treat for the eyes. Brandon rested his head against the seat back. It was nearly a month since his last visit to London, and he looked forward to spending the evening with his father and seeing Catherine tomorrow.

  She had terrifying plans for him—they would spend the afternoon at her place with her bridesmaids, as the girls had a final fitting and fashion show of their wedding attire. For the life of him, he didn’t understand why it was so important he attend, but Catherine was deliriously excited about including him in their plans, so attend he would. Thank the heavens he’d thought to beg a favor of his friend, Angus McDuff, for some much-needed male backup at the event.

  Of course, McDuff’s plans veered toward snagging a phone number off one of the girls, but that was a small price to pay to have a mate in the tr
enches with him.

  Brandon felt on top of the world. Better, actually. Just as a dreary August turned into a brighter and drier September and then a spectacular October, so his spirits improved. He hadn’t had a vision since the Cutty Sark, now nearly two months gone, and his occasional headaches were also a thing of the past.

  For a time, he’d been worried about Catherine’s feelings, sensing her wariness after he’d confided in her about the visions. But as time went on, she seemed to accept his condition as a part of the past. She had pluck with a maturity beyond her years. Even so, she was barely of an age to know her mind, or to have the perspective added years would provide. He was grateful her fortitude had enabled her to look at a fearful situation and not allow it to jeopardize their future. Happily, she returned his love without the hint of hesitation he’d noted during the late summer.

  At this point, he could see nothing but bliss on his horizon. Once he and Catherine were married—and after a short honeymoon in the Lake District—they would take up residence with his father. This would save them funds as they got established, in addition to putting some much-needed life back in the house.

  Everything is finally falling into place. Thoroughly contented, Brandon smiled and tipped his hat over his eyes, then propped his feet on the opposite seat and went to sleep.

  …

  “You’re begging off?” Brandon asked, incredulous. “What kind of mate would send a man alone into a situation like this? What about getting phone numbers? They’re all quite good-looking, and I assure you I won’t do any reconnaissance on your behalf. You’ll be utterly out of luck in that regard.”

  It was the morning of the fashion show, and Angus McDuff just announced he would be leaving Brandon high and dry for the event. He could hear his mate’s muffled chuckling over the phone.

  “You are the very lowest sort of chap,” Brandon muttered, although he found it hard to blame the man. He ardently wished he could find a way to escape his duties.

  “As I’ve said, lad, ’tis beyond me powers of reasonin’ with her,” Angus replied in his thick Scottish brogue. “I’d have a better chance of sayin’ no t’ the queen herself. I dinna know till this very moment that me mum was even visitin’ London, I swear, and I must attend her luncheon, else I’ll be damned to the fiery pits o’ hell.”

  …

  Catherine checked her watch, then peeked out the front window. Jonnie wasn’t due for another quarter hour, but she felt nervous about his arrival.

  “I wouldn’t blame the poor fellow if he suddenly came down with a head cold in order to miss this,” Mirin said.

  “I can’t imagine this would be at the top of any man’s ‘to do’ list,” Susan added, smiling.

  “I agree,” Catherine replied earnestly. “But I want all of you to get to know one another better, and an informal setting like this seemed to be just the thing. I also want him to see your dresses before the service. If he made the connection of the color scheme being a tribute to his mother while standing at the altar, I’m not sure the shock would be welcome. I told him to bring one of his mates along, so he won’t be completely at a disadvantage.”

  “Is this mate handsome?” Susan asked with a grin and a nudge against Catherine’s shoulder.

  “Oh, you. I’ve no idea. I haven’t met him,” Catherine replied with a smile. “Here comes the seamstress.” She dropped the curtain and hurried to greet the woman.

  The seamstress and her assistant bustled in with the dresses carefully wrapped and folded over their arms. Once inside, each girl grabbed the parcel with her name and hurried off to Catherine’s bedroom to change, while the seamstress set about preparing a corner of the room where final adjustments could be made.

  Catherine’s mother and Aunt Vivi brought in tea and trays of finger food, and she helped get everything arranged on the coffee table. Moments later, the doorbell sounded, and Catherine rushed to fling it open.

  “Jonnie!” She gave him a hug, then pulled him inside. “You’re wearing your dress uniform for us? Thank you! You look so distinguished. But you came alone. Where’s your friend?”

  He grinned at her nervous babble. “The rascal begged off at the last minute.”

  “I’m so sorry. I’d have Dad partner up with you, except he left hours ago—in mortal fear, I might add.”

  “No matter,” he said with a chuckle. He greeted everyone, then whispered conspiratorially, “I’ll find a way to repay both of them, don’t you doubt it.”

  Catherine laughed and seated him with a cup of tea and a plate loaded with food. Still feeling nervous, she sat beside him and sipped her tea. “They’ll be down in a moment. They’re trying on the dresses, and then the seamstress will make any final adjustments.”

  Jonnie put a calming hand over hers. “What’s the matter?”

  “Oh, I, er, it’s the dresses, you see,” she explained in a hushed voice. “I wanted to, well, I hope you don’t mind—”

  Just then, giggles and chatter and the clamor of three pairs of heels on the stairs interrupted her explanation. Mirin, Poppy, and Susan all burst into the parlor with swirls of rose-colored taffeta.

  Catherine held her breath as Jonnie’s hand firmed up against her own.

  The dresses had three-quarter length organza sleeves and scalloped sweetheart necklines, fitted bodices, and full organza skirts that flared from a drop waist. Her friends looked beautiful.

  Jonnie leaned in. “Are all your romantic dreams coming true?”

  Catherine met his eyes and grinned. “Yes, they are. Every single one.”

  He showed a flicker of pleasure at her frank response, then waggled his eyebrows.

  “Hey, you lovebirds,” Susan broke in. “You’re supposed to be admiring us right now, not each other.”

  Gathering her thoughts, Catherine returned her focus to the moment and the reason for Jonnie’s presence.

  “Jonnie, I want you to understand… I chose the color—”

  “For my mother,” he broke in. “I assumed as much the moment they walked in. It was her favorite. Thank you.” He patted her hand. “In a sense, she’ll be right there with us, and she would be pleased beyond measure at your thoughtfulness. As am I.”

  “I’m so glad you approve.” Catherine let out a gratified sigh.

  “And I’ll make sure my mate is fully aware of the opportunity he missed today to meet three lovely women.”

  Catherine laughed. “I can provide their numbers whenever you decide to forgive him.”

  There was very little left to do with the dresses. A pin here or there, and soon her girlfriends were changed and handing their dresses back to the seamstress. Aunt Vivi poured more tea and passed around shortbread biscuits while Catherine, her mother, and Jonnie discussed invitation styles and wording.

  The afternoon drew to a close, and Jonnie rose to take his leave. Catherine walked him out to the street, where he turned and took her hands in his. “I’ve dinner plans with Dad this evening, and an early departure in the morning, so I won’t see you again until Friday week.”

  Nine days from now. Catherine nodded to Jonnie, trying to keep her true feelings hidden. She didn’t relish the idea of not seeing him for over a week. “Drat, I wish we’d had more time for just the two of us today. How are you feeling? Still well?”

  “Not even a hint of the earlier episodes. Not a thing. I feel on top of the world.”

  “I’m so glad.”

  “As am I.” He pulled her close and kissed her deeply. She could feel him against her, the strength of his passion. She closed her eyes and let out a little moan.

  Jonnie drew back and looked into her eyes. “Oh, darling. I wish—”

  “So do I.”

  “Soon, darling.” He kissed her once more, slowly, gently, and then said good-bye.

  Catherine watched him leave, lost in her imaginings of the wedding night they would share, now not so very far off.

  Later that evening, she stood in front of the mirror in her bedroom and admired
her wedding outfit. Although she’d insisted on a practical suit in the beginning, her mum suggested she soften the lines. The gray silk complemented her coloring, and the gentle flair of the tea-length skirt added romantic femininity.

  Her wedding attire was perfect. The day would be perfect.

  And her future with Jonnie…

  She closed her eyes and touched her lips, remembering his kiss.

  Perfect.

  …

  Brandon saw the little pups and smiled. Three fine Cairn terriers, eight weeks old, two males and a female. Small as kittens and nutmeg brown, although the breeder told him they would lighten up as they matured.

  “Ye’ve got first pick, guvner,” the man said.

  “I’ll take the tiniest one,” Brandon replied without hesitation as he picked up the runt of the litter.

  The puppy squirmed at first, but then quickly settled in the crook of Brandon’s arm. He smiled down at the inquisitive gaze. “You’re a smart one, aren’t you?”

  “He was the first one out and damn feisty, as the runts tend to be if they wish to survive,” the breeder said.

  “He’ll have a good home with a beautiful girl, my fiancée,” Brandon explained.

  The man nodded and then Brandon paid him and tucked the puppy inside his uniform coat’s inner breast pocket. To his relief, the little one fell asleep almost instantly. No need to worry about more squirming.

  “Ah, you should be callin’ him Whiskey, then,” the man said, patting his own chest. “I always carry me bottle here.”

  Brandon laughed and shook his head. “No, he’ll be named after a friend of mine, if the lady agrees to it. Payback for my mate, who recently left me high and dry when he was supposed to accompany me to a bridal fashion show, of all things.”