by Eve Gaddy
And so he had been. Seeing Bella in that dream brought back memories as if they’d been yesterday. Following the links on the Internet that his assistant had sent him wasn’t helping. All it did was stir up a lot of memories better forgotten. No one was going to dig into a forty-plus-year-old unsolved murder. Why would they?
AFTER SHE FINISHED at the hospital, Claire and Jonas spent the day together. They started out at the Kimbell Art Museum, then went to the Amon Carter Museum. Jonas couldn’t remember ever going. Not in high school, that was for sure. He’d enjoyed the museums in Boston, but realized he’d neglected to see what his own hometown had to offer. Claire apparently spent a lot of time in them.
When they wanted a change, they went to the zoo. Now that was a place Jonas had been. He used to take dates there in high school. “What’s so funny?” Claire asked him. “The elephants?”
“No. I was remembering that this is where I kissed my first girl.”
“Right here, in front of the elephants?”
“Yeah. It wasn’t a success, though. Her aunt happened to see us and told her mother, who grounded her for a month. She had lied and told her mom she was going to a girlfriend’s house instead of on a date with me.”
“Didn’t her mother like you?”
“Her mother didn’t like any boys. Didn’t want her to date until she was sixteen. We were barely fifteen.”
“Poor baby.” She slid her arms around his waist and raised on her toes to kiss him. “There, now you can remember this instead.”
He smiled at her but couldn’t help asking, “Do you know if you’re still being followed by the PI?”
“No, but I wouldn’t be surprised.”
“We probably shouldn’t even be going out in public together.”
“I’m not ashamed to be with you, Jonas. My marriage is over. Just because a judge hasn’t said so yet shouldn’t make a difference.”
“I hope you’re right. I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You haven’t. You won’t.” She smiled and kissed him again. “Come on, let’s go eat and then go back to your place.”
They didn’t speak of her husband or PIs again. After they ate they went to his apartment and made love most of the night. With every kiss, every touch, Jonas felt himself falling for her harder.
He tried to tell himself it was normal to have these feelings in a brand-new relationship. That first rush of falling for a woman. But he knew there was more to it.
He closed his eyes, knowing he needed sleep. He was tied to Claire, connected to her in a way he couldn’t understand. Would the connection become clearer with time?
June 1859
“CELIA, WHERE IS he? Is he all right?”
“He’s fine, Miz Sarah. Don’t you worry about Elijah. Just a beatin’, not a whippin’.”
“But why? Why was Elijah beaten? Who did it?” The thought of his pain made her physically ill. Bad enough when it was one of the other slaves, but Elijah. . . .
“Mr. Bransen said Elijah sassed him.” She shrugged. “It happen all the time. You know that.”
Mr. Bransen, the overseer, was notorious for making up reasons to beat or whip the slaves. While it had always bothered her, she hadn’t been in love with the person being beaten. Why had it taken her so long to realize she was in love with Elijah? How could she have been so blind?
But what did it matter? There was nothing she could do. She was married, and Elijah was her husband’s slave.
“I want to see him.”
“No, ma’am. You won’t,” Celia said firmly. “Master Victor will kill you.”
“Nonsense. I check on all the slaves. It’s my duty. And I want to see Mr. Bransen as well. While Victor is gone I have a responsibility to oversee the plantation. I won’t have that man beating our slaves on a whim.”
“Don’t you go interferin’,” Celia warned. “I don’t want you to get in trouble, Miss Sarah, and that’s surely where you’re heading.”
“Celia, I have to see him. I’m going to see him, no matter what you say.”
Celia argued, but it was no use. Sarah remained adamant, and Celia reluctantly gave in.
Elijah’s face was swollen where the overseer had hit him. Sarah had no doubt he had bruises elsewhere too. She hated that she must be grateful that Elijah hadn’t been lashed. The small, one-room cabin had a dirt floor, and in the corner, a rough bed of reeds lashed together, covered by a thin blanket. Someone had made an attempt to tidy the cabin. According to Celia, this was where the ailing slaves went, or those recovering from the lash. Sarah was ashamed that she was only now seeing it. Ashamed that while she and her husband lived in luxury, these people made do with so little. But Victor had deliberately kept her from seeing the slave quarters. How much else had he kept hidden from her?
“How do you feel?” she asked, kneeling beside the bed and laying a hand on Elijah’s arm.
He didn’t answer but looked at her maid, angrily. “Celia, have you done lost your mind? Missus ain’t got no business bein’ here.”
“Miss Sarah was comin’ whether I brung her or not. You be the fool, Elijah.” She gave him a stern look, then transferred it to Sarah. She didn’t quite say Sarah was a fool as well, but Sarah understood the unspoken words.
Elijah glared at Sarah though his eyes were nearly swollen shut. “Go on, get outta here. You cain’t be here, Missus.”
“Nonsense.” Sarah gestured to Celia to leave them.
After another reproving glance at Sarah, she did as she was told, though she said pointedly, “I be waitin’ outside, Miss Sarah.”
Best that she did. Celia’s presence gave more propriety to Sarah’s tending to a slave.
“Why did the overseer beat you?” Sarah asked.
He sighed, but answered. “‘Cause he could, I reckon. He don’t need a reason, Miss Sarah.”
“I’ve told you to call me Sarah.”
“And I told you it ain’t fittin’, Miss.”
“I don’t care about that. There’s no one here but us. You can call me Sarah when we’re alone.”
“Shouldn’t be alone,” Elijah muttered. “You shouldn’t be here a’tall.”
Sarah ignored that. “I came as soon as I heard. Does Mr. Bransen do this often?”
Elijah didn’t answer.
“He does. I suspected so. Never mind, I will speak to him and he won’t be beating our people again.”
“If he don’t, the master will.”
Again she felt ill, knowing what he said was true. “I can’t stop Victor, but I can stop Mr. Bransen.” At least for now, until her husband returned. Before Elijah could say anything, or try to send her away again, she leaned over and kissed his brow.
“Sarah, don’t,” he said, agonized.
“No one can see,” she whispered, and kissed his poor, battered mouth.
November 1968
“GOOD GOD, BELLA, what happened? Did your father do this?” He gestured to her face, her purpling eye and swollen mouth, but he knew there were other bruises and God only knew what he couldn’t see.
She hugged him tightly, regardless of the pain it must have caused her. “Oh, Calvin, he knows. My father knows about us.”
“How?” He knew even as he asked the question. “That piece of shit Larry told him, didn’t he?”
She nodded, tears spilling down her cheeks. “Daddy took a belt to me. He only slapped me a couple of times, before he remembered he doesn’t like to leave marks. He doesn’t want the teachers saying anything. So he used the belt. Calvin, it hurt so much!”
Slapped her? The bastard used his fists on her. Worse, he used a belt, the cowardly shit. “I want to kill the bastard. Anyone who’d treat his own child this way doesn’t deserve to live.”
“He said a lot of horrible things. I can’t believe
anyone could have so much hatred in him. He said he’d kill me if I didn’t give you up.”
Calvin drew her close, kissed the top of her head. “I understand. You have a right to be scared.” And he did understand. But his heart broke all the same.
She pushed back from him, fury in her gaze. “Do you think I’d let him break us up? I only let him think I’d obey him. It doesn’t even cross his mind that I would keep seeing you.”
“But how? I don’t want him to hurt you again.”
“He does that anyway. I love you and I’m not giving you up. We’ll just have to be more careful. I might not be able to get away as much.”
If he were stronger, he’d let her go. Hell, he should make her go. Yet as stubborn as Bella was, she wouldn’t allow him to do that. “I love you, Bella,” he said, and kissed her. Drew her down on the blanket and made tender love to her, careful, so careful not to touch her cuts and bruises. He wanted to protect her. He would protect her.
Bella. His only love.
Chapter Sixteen
November Present Day
CLAIRE WOKE IN the night, thinking of Elijah. She looked over at Jonas, sleeping with the moonlight spilling over his face. The face that looked so much like Elijah’s. She lay back down, sighing. What did these dreams mean? How were they connected to her and Jonas? Most of all, why was she having them?
Her restlessness must have awakened Jonas. His arm came around her. He pulled her close, kissed her, stroked her. Soon, she didn’t think of anything but Jonas, didn’t feel anything but happiness as he slid inside her and made her his. She slept in his arms.
June 1859
“ELIJAH, YOU MUST go,” Sarah said. “You should take your freedom the instant there is an opportunity. You’ve helped enough people. Now it’s time to help yourself.” It wasn’t the first time she’d begged him to go. But he was adamant that he didn’t want to leave her.
“I cain’t just up and leave. Too many folks countin’ on me.”
“But that isn’t the only reason. You won’t go because of me. That’s it, isn’t it?”
He gazed at her a long moment. “Never knew happiness ‘til I met you. Not much happy in bein’ a slave. Then there was you.” He smiled, albeit sadly. “I reckon I’ll stay a while.”
“What if I left too? What if I went with you?”
He started shaking his head before she finished her sentence. “Too dangerous. The master, he’d hunt us down and kill the both of us.”
“Then I’ll go alone and meet you later. I won’t let him find me. I’ll leave during one of his trips. I think he’s going on another soon.”
“T’wouldn’t be possible.”
“Why? Other people leave all the time. Why couldn’t I?” The more she thought about it, the more she wanted to do it. Why should she stay here, tied to a man who didn’t love her when she could be with Elijah?
She would have to leave her family. Never see her father and sister again. The decision wasn’t an easy one. But staying with Victor, praying every day that she wouldn’t bear his child, hoping for just a glimpse of Elijah. Knowing if her husband suspected their friendship . . . . She shuddered. No, better not to think of that. Elijah had to go, but couldn’t she go as well?
“You know why, Sarah. It just ain’t possible.”
“Perhaps you’re right. But what if you leave first and then I follow?”
“Foolishness. You know it is.”
Foolishness or not, she intended to try. “I’ll talk to Rachel.”
November Present Day
THE NEXT MORNING Jonas awakened before Claire. He watched her as she slept. Jonas had never felt the need to do that before with a woman. No surprise. He’d only been seriously involved twice. Once with the disastrous married Leslie, and another time when they’d both been so young that he hadn’t been surprised it hadn’t lasted. But he’d never watched a woman sleep before.
He was getting sappy. Emotional. Lovelorn, for God’s sake. He’d fallen in love with Claire, a woman he’d known a matter of a few months.
She began to moan, then thrash. It happened so fast he didn’t react at first, but when she cried out he decided he should wake her. Not wanting to startle her, he touched her shoulder, but she didn’t feel it, continuing to struggle and moan, tears leaking from her eyes. He took her by the shoulder again, more firmly this time, leaned over, and spoke clearly. “Claire, wake up.”
Her eyes opened, those incredible blue and green eyes swimming in tears. Eyes that looked so much like Bella’s. Bella, the woman in his dreams.
Tears spilled over and ran down her cheeks. “Elijah,” she whispered. “You have to go. It’s not safe for you here.”
Who the hell was Elijah?
“Jonas,” he said firmly. “You’re having a dream.”
Her expression cleared. “Jonas?”
She looked so sad, so lost. He bent and kissed her, gently at first and then with more passion. Her arms came up around his neck. He slipped a hand between her legs and found her already damp, ready for him. His fingers slicked over her, and he slid first one, then another inside her. Her eyes never left his as he made her hot, hotter. Her hips thrust upward in time to his fingers sliding in and out. When she was close, he removed his hand, smoothed it over her stomach, traced it over her breasts.
She wrapped her arms around him more tightly and drew him in. Opened herself to him as he slid between her legs and pushed inside her soft, welcoming body. He pulled out, sank in again, slowly. Watching her all the time.
Her mouth opened, and she gasped as he filled her again and again, driving her to peak and trying to hold himself back. He took her mouth, thrust his tongue inside in the rhythm his body was making with hers. She was his, as no other woman had ever been.
For eternity.
Their eyes were locked on each other. Jonas groaned, spilling inside her in a torrent as her muscles contracted around him and she gasped her completion, saying his name over and over. Eventually, he pulled out and held her against his chest.
Eternity. What kind of crap was that? He wasn’t even sure he believed in what they had lasting a week, much less an eternity.
And why the hell was she dreaming about another man?
“Who’s Elijah?”
She rose on her elbow to look at him, her expression puzzled. “Why?” she asked guardedly.
“You called me Elijah. Before you really woke up.”
She looked as if she wouldn’t answer, but then she sat up and wrapped the sheet around her. Shoved her hand through her hair, pushing it back from her face. He watched it spill in a silky, blonde waterfall over her shoulders and breasts. At work she wore it pulled back, which only made it more arresting when he saw it down. Especially when she was naked.
“Elijah is the man I’ve been dreaming about. Sarah’s lover.”
Dreams of the past. Like his, except she remembered her dreams. He only remembered bits and pieces of his. “The dream that takes place in the eighteen fifties.”
“Dreams. Yes. I dreamed she was trying to make him leave. But he wouldn’t. She was afraid for his life.” She looked at him, her eyes bright with unshed tears.
“Did the dream end there?”
She nodded. “This time. But . . . Elijah and Sarah never left.”
“What happened?”
She stared at him blankly for so long he thought she wouldn’t answer. When she did, the words sounded as if they’d been dragged out of her. “He was lynched. By Sarah’s husband and some other men.”
Jesus. No wonder she’d cried. “So you were still dreaming when you called me by his name?”
She looked away, then said slowly, “I think so.” She put her hands up to her face and groaned, then dropped them to look at him. “I don’t know. You look just like him. Your eyes, the
shape of your face, your build.” She smiled briefly. “Your smile. I had the same dream—the lynching—the night before I met you. And then when I saw you. God, it reminded me of the dream I’d just had. I think that’s why I spilled coffee on you.”
“That would freak you out, all right.” Dreams could be explained away. They didn’t mean anything other than the subconscious was working overtime.
“I don’t know what it means,” Claire said. “Why I’m having these dreams. But they mean something. They have to.”
“Maybe. Have you been reading the journal again? Isn’t that what you thought had triggered the dreams in the first place?”
“Not in a while. I’ve been afraid to for fear it would spark dreams.” She laughed unhappily. “Apparently I don’t need to read the damn thing to have the dreams anymore.”
Jonas rubbed her arm, attempting to comfort. “They’re just dreams, Claire. They can’t hurt you.”
“I’m not so sure of that. What if they’re more?”
“What do you mean, more?”
Her eyes were troubled as she looked at him. “What if the dreams have something to do with now? With you and me?”
“Why would they? They’re just dreams,” he repeated.
“I have her eyes. My weird eyes are just like Sarah’s.”
And Bella’s. But that didn’t make sense. What would a woman who’d lived in the eighteen fifties and a girl who’d lived in 1968 have to do with one another? And what would either of them have to do with Claire, a woman of the twenty-first century?
“Do you think I might find the answer in the journal?”
“Answer to what?”
“The answer to why I’m having these dreams. I think there must be a reason. I don’t believe it’s random.” She rubbed her forehead. “I’m going to try to research them. The lovers. I know something about Sarah because of Rachel’s journal, but Elijah will be harder. I don’t know if he had children or not. I don’t believe he did. Maybe I can find out through genealogical research.”
“Do you know both their full names?”
“Yes. Sarah Lawrence and Elijah Calvin.”