Chapter 7
Corie stared at Granger in confusion. “Granger, look at the date on the newspaper. Today is only the twenty-first of June.”
“Yes, I’ve seen it. But I know I was there on June 30.” His gaze rested intently on her face. “We are...were...engaged in civil war at the time. In 1863. There is...was a division between north and south.”
“Yes,” Corie said, beginning to feel light-headed. “I know. The Civil War was a very important event in American history.”
He seemed surprised about that. “You have studied it?”
“Everyone has. It’s a requirement in the classroom.”
He nodded, obviously pleased at the thought.
Corie felt her grasp on reality slipping away. This whole situation seemed more like a very long, very realistic dream. It was hard to believe she was standing there having a conversation with a soldier who had actually fought in the Battle of Gettysburg.
If he had fought in the battle. Her heart skipped a beat. “You said you were there on June 30?” she said slowly. “I don’t understand how you could have been, unless there was some kind of time warp when you were hit by the beam. What’s the last thing you remember?”
Granger went back to his chair and sat down, propping up his head with his elbows on the table. He sounded very tired when he finally spoke.
“I remember falling asleep in my tent on the night of June 30. Though I can’t help feeling that there is something else. I’m almost certain I awoke the next morning, still in my tent, but when I try to remember what happened then everything becomes hazy...confusing.”
The strain on his face was so distinct, so painful to see that Corie said quickly, “Don’t worry abut it now, Granger. Give it time and it will come back to you. I’ve learned that much. Just tell me what you do remember.”
He nodded, and after a pause, began speaking again. “I am a cavalry officer in the Union army, under the command of General Buford. Things haven’t been going very well for the North. We had made camp on McPherson’s Ridge, just outside of Gettysburg.
“We knew the rebels were somewhere in the area and advancing. We were facing the possibility of having to defend the ridge. Buford had sent word to General Reynolds, requesting further orders.”
Lifting his head, he looked at her across the room. “Most of us weren’t too concerned, though. Buford didn’t think it would be more than a skirmish and we’d seen plenty of those. I doubt if many people have heard of Gettysburg, much less know where it is. It’s a very small town.”
She knew he’d seen her swift change of expression. He frowned at her, saying sharply, “What is it?”
“Granger,” Corie said, “the Battle of Gettysburg is one of the most famous battles to come out of the Civil War. It changed the entire course of the war.”
His eyes widened as he looked at her. “You’ve heard of it then? You know about it?”
Corie smiled. “Everybody’s heard of it. The battlefield is a national shrine.”
Granger rose to his feet, moving slowly, as if walking in his sleep.
Corie tensed as he approached her, his gaze fixed firmly on her face. He paused in front of her, his hands reaching for her shoulders. She could hear the tension in his voice when he said harshly, “I don’t know why it hasn’t occurred to me until now that you know the answer to this question. Tell me, Corie. Which side won that battle?”
“The Federals. It was their first significant victory.”
He looked almost afraid to ask the next question. “And the final victory of the war between North and South?” She smiled up at his anxious face. “We still have a United States of America, Granger,” she said softly. “The Union army won the Civil War.”
A fierce blaze of delight lit up his face. Lifting his chin, he let out a shout of triumph, then before she could stop him, he planted a firm, joyous kiss full on her lips.
It was over before she could really appreciate the impact of his embrace. One second his lips had been warm and hard on hers, the next he had let her go. Moving away from her, he said quietly, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that.”
“It’s okay, forget it. Under the circumstances I’m surprised you didn’t go around breaking all the dishes or something.”
She grinned at him, determined not to let him know how much his kiss had affected her. He didn’t have to be so darn apologetic, did he? “Look, this has been a big shock to both of us. We can’t do much more about the situation now, so let’s just try to put it out of our minds. Maybe if we sleep on it we’ll both be able to think more clearly tomorrow.”
She turned back to the sink, and began rinsing the forks. If she stood looking at him much longer, she thought ruefully, he’d know exactly how much she ached to be in his arms.
“Since we got through with dinner early,” she said, after an awkward pause, “I think I’ll start the papering in the second floor bedroom. If you want to watch television, please go ahead.”
“Corie—” He broke off, muttered a low curse, then added, “I have only a few spots to finish in the room I’m working on. I’ll attempt to get that done tonight so I can start fresh with the next room tomorrow.”
“Thanks, that would be great.” She flashed him a quick smile then snatched the grill out of the oven and shoved it under the faucet. The rush of hot water almost drowned out the sound of the door closing behind him as he left the room.
For some crazy reason she felt like crying. She couldn’t afford the luxury of letting her feelings show. She was not about to make a fool of herself. Once she worked out how to send him back, he would be gone from her forever.
Even if he was forced to remain in the present, she knew very well he wouldn’t be able to stay with her. It would be too dangerous for both of them.
Besides, she told herself as she scrubbed furiously at the grill, what had happened to her resolution not to get involved again with a man? That was considering he was the least bit interested in her.
Judging by his quick apology earlier, he seemed very anxious not to give the wrong impression. He’d kissed her because he was excited at finding out that his side had won a long and terrible war. Nothing more.
Corie carefully rinsed the grill under the faucet. Thinking about that brought up all kinds of questions. What if she sent him back? Would he remember what she had told him? How ethical was it, she wondered, to tell a man who was involved in a struggle of that magnitude the outcome of events?
Staring at her reflection in the base of the grill, she pulled a face. It looked as if there would be more than one problem to deal with before all this was over and she could go back to her normal life. If anything would ever feel normal again after knowing Granger Deene.
A few minutes later she stood looking around the large bedroom, facing the task of papering the ceiling. So far she had only painted ceilings, this would be the first time she had attempted to paper one. But the room was so big, she was convinced it would look cozier with a papered ceiling.
She’d chosen a paper with a faint peach stripe on a cream background, which would blend in with the aqua-and-peach wallpaper. She’d fallen in love with it the minute she’d seen it at the store. The trick now, was to get the paper up there without doing too much damage to it.
Dragging a wide plank of wood to the corner of the room, Corie set it up between two chairs, resting each end on the seats. She’d already filled the trough with water and cut out the first strips of paper. Now all she had to do was wet the rolls down and smooth the whole thing onto the ceiling.
It had sounded so simple when she’d read the instructions. Balanced precariously on the plank, she looked down at the roll of paper floating in the warm water.
It would be impossible to reach it from where she stood. Muttering to herself about her own stupidity, she climbed down again and grabbed the edges of the paper. Water streamed from the strip when she lifted it. Little puddles formed on the floor as she clambered back on the plank holding the sti
cky, wet length of paper in her hands.
Tilting her head back, she eyed the corner of the ceiling. It looked to be a long way away. She gritted her teeth in concentration, and laid one end of the soggy paper against the edge of the wall. She had to get underneath the paper to smooth it against the ceiling, which meant drawing the length of it over her head and down her back.
Maneuvering into a secure position was difficult, but she managed it. The paper slid sideways and she straightened it, then smoothed it with her fingers against the ceiling until it held. Supporting the weight of the remainder of the strip, she looked for the brush. It lay on the plank at her feet.
She would have to stoop to reach it, which meant letting go of the paper. She cursed herself for not tucking the brush inside the waistband of her jeans before she got started. Now she would have to bend down and hang on to the paper at the same time.
Her efforts were rewarded by the wet paper slapping her on the head. Grabbing up the brush with one hand, she grimly held onto the paper with the other and straightened her back. Once more she went through the procedure, this time with the brush firmly tucked inside her waistband.
She had pulled on a pale lemon cotton sweater when she’d changed out of her office clothes. Now she was beginning to wish she’d picked out something more expendable. The sweater was fairly new, and wouldn’t look too attractive with wallpaper paste dabbed all over it.
It was too late now, she decided. She had to get the paper onto the ceiling before it dried out, or she’d have to start all over again.
Once more she tapped the paper firmly onto the ceiling and smoothed it out. So far so good. Moving slowly backward, feeling her way on the plank one careful step at a time, Corie drew the brush down the length of paper.
Her efforts seemed to be working this time, since the paper clung to the ceiling. She had almost reached the end of the strip when she noticed the other end beginning to peel away from the wall. Before she could save it, the entire sticky mess plopped down and wrapped itself lovingly around her head.
With a growl of frustration, Corie peeled the paper from her hair. A slight sound behind her startled her, and she turned her head. Standing in the doorway, a slow smile spreading over his face, was Granger Deene.
“You look as if you could use some help,” he said, gazing up at the wet ceiling.
She hadn’t heard him come down the hallway. Unprepared for the sight of him, she was totally defenseless against the rush of emotion she felt when she saw him. It was the first time she’d seen him really smile. It did things to his face she wouldn’t have imagined.
He’d tucked the blue shirt she’d bought for him into the waistband of his jeans. His face was tilted up at her, and Corie couldn’t seem to look away from the tempting triangle of tanned skin below his throat. She could just imagine pressing her lips into the musky warmth of his neck. The thought made her go hot and cold.
“I can manage, thanks,” she said, trying to find enough breath to sound normal.
“Why don’t you let me do it?” Walking toward her, he held out his hand for the paper. “I seem to have a knack for this job.”
Corie shook her head, determined not to give in. She just wished he’d leave her alone to get on with it. Her face felt sticky, and heaven knew what her hair looked like. Plastered down on her head, no doubt. She resisted the urge to lift her hand up to find out. She’d rather not know.
“I’ll get the hang of it,” she said, doing her best to straighten out the length of limp paper. It seemed to have a life of its own, and fought her efforts to tame it.
Granger folded his arms across his chest in a typical male pose of smug superiority. “Well, if you’re quite sure...”
“I’m sure.”
Darn the man. He seemed determined to stand there and watch her make a fool of herself. Turning her back on him, Corie once more lifted the edge of the paper and slapped it against the ceiling.
It hung for the space of a second or two, then gracefully peeled away again.
“Perhaps you need to soak it again,” Granger said helpfully.
He sounded as if he was struggling to hide his amusement, and Corie fumed. “I think I’ll just dump this piece and start again with a fresh strip,” she said tartly.
“For heaven’s sake stop being so stubborn and let me do it for you. Here.” Reaching from behind her, he took hold of the offending strip of paper.
She had no idea why she was being so immature. It had something to do with her making an idiot of herself in front of the one man she wanted to impress, and it had a lot to do with the knowledge that she was falling for the guy when she knew full well that nothing could ever come of it.
Whatever it was, her fragile hold on her composure snapped. Attempting to drag the paper from his hands, she snapped, “I could manage a lot better if you weren’t standing behind me giving me orders.”
Her sharp tug on the last word tore the paper right across the middle. Glaring at the ruined strip, she puffed out her breath. “Now look what you’ve done. Well, that settles that, I guess. Now I’ll have to start over—”
She never finished the sentence. Granger dropped the torn paper and took hold of her arms. Ignoring her muffled protest he pulled her off the plank to the floor.
“I’m not going to stand here arguing with you,” he said firmly, “so just hush up and let me do this. Go and make me some coffee if you want something to do.”
“Now just wait a cotton-picking minute.” Temper blazing, she shook a finger at him. “This is the twentieth century, and you can’t come in here giving me orders as if I’m your slave. Women are equal to men in this day and age, and you’d better get used to the idea or you are going find yourself extremely unpopular.”
He stared at her for a full minute, while she stared back at him, struggling to control her ragged breathing.
“Is that so?” he said at last, his voice dangerously quiet.
“Yes,” Corie snapped recklessly. “That’s the way things are now.”
“Times seemed to have changed in more ways than one.”
Something in his voice made her check her next retort. His gaze dropped to her mouth, and her heart skipped a beat.
“Though I’m sure there are some things that haven’t changed,” Granger said softly.
Before she could move he’d taken a step closer. The breath rushed out of her body as he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her against his hard chest. She saw the glint in his gray eyes just before he brought his mouth down on hers, successfully silencing any protest she might have made.
She wasn’t about to protest. This was what she’d wanted from the moment she’d sat him down in her living room that first night. No matter how hard she’d try to fight it, some part of her had always known it was inevitable.
He had appeared out of nowhere in her life, and soon he would leave it. She knew that. But the short while that he would spend in this time and space belonged to her. And she was going to make the most of it.
Forgetting all her reservations, she returned his kiss, determined to enjoy it body and soul and to hell with the consequences. She’d deal with her pain later.
As if sensing her resolve, Granger shifted his position, drawing her even closer, his hand in the small of her back to bring her into his hips.
It was a not too subtle way of letting her know how much he wanted her. It blew her mind to know that her excitement was matched just as fiercely by his.
He lifted his head, the fire in his gaze melting her soul. “I’ve wanted to do that ever since I first set eyes on you,” he said softly.
“What were you waiting for?” Her feeble attempt to make light of the fact that her entire body was trembling apparently failed.
Granger brushed her lips lightly with his. “I wasn’t sure if you’d take a carving knife to me. You can be quite a little spitfire when you’re provoked.”
“You should see me when I’m really mad.”
His smile faded as he
gazed deep into her eyes. “Corie,” he said softly, “I want you as I’ve never wanted another woman. Yet I can promise you nothing. You must know that.”
“Yes, I know that.”
“I don’t want to bring you more pain. You’ve had more than your share already.”
Abandoning the last of her doubts, Corie tangled her fingers in his hair. “Let’s not worry about tomorrow, Granger.” Gently she drew his face down to hers, and touched his lips with her own.
Immediately his response caught fire, and he made the kiss last, teasing with his tongue and lingering on her mouth until his breathing became harsh and labored. When he drew back, her skin tingled as he looked down at her. Never had she seen such a look of pure, naked need on a man’s face.
His voice was husky with emotion when he spoke. “No woman has ever kissed me like that before.”
She smiled up at him, feeling an exhilarating sense of power. “You’ve never kissed a modern woman before.”
His answering smile played havoc with her pulse rate. “I hope that doesn’t put me at a disadvantage. How do modern women like to make love nowadays?”
“I imagine the same way they did then. It depends on the woman.”
His expression grew serious. Gently, he drew a finger down the side of her cheek, then rested his knuckles against her throat. “Corie,” he said softly, “I don’t know...this is a different time, a different age, I don’t want to...behave in a way that might offend you.”
She couldn’t believe the depth of her love for him as she looked up into his face. It was as if she’d been waiting for him all of her life, preparing for this one special moment when all her dreams and fantasies exploded into glorious reality.
His hunger for her burned in his eyes, yet he held back, concerned about her feelings, her sensitivities. She couldn’t possibly love anyone more than she did this man at this moment.
“Granger,” she said, her voice trembling with her emotion, “time doesn’t change the way a man and a woman make love. The instinct is born in us, and when two people need each other, they express that need by pleasing each other. It’s as simple as that.”
So Little Time Page 12