“Would that be so bad?”
She stood up, walked to the window, looked outside. “No. I don’t know. There’s so much to see. I want to travel the country.”
Bradley nearly came undone. Here stood the perfect woman for him. A woman who wanted to travel and see the country. If only.
If only he could take her home with him. As a pilot, he had the means to show her the country. He could show her things so far outside of her imagination, it was impossible to fathom.
Perhaps he’d sensed that kindred spirit about her from the beginning. Perhaps that was one of the things that had drawn him to her in the first place. That free-spiritedness.
That and her unparalleled beauty. Perhaps it was from a pureness that could only come from not eating pizza and hamburgers, but her eyes were bright, her skin flawless. Her lips full.
Bradley squirmed in his chair and pulled his eyes away from her straight back and her long, lush hair. He, too, stood up, but instead of following her to the window, he went to the sideboard and, picking up a handful of strawberries, redirected his thoughts. One by one, he pulled the stems from the strawberries and ate them, badly needing the distraction.
She turned her gaze from the window onto him. He set the strawberries aside and leaned against the sideboard, his elbows propped on either side. He smiled and hoped he didn’t look as wolfish as he felt.
He must not have, because she returned the smile.
He struggled to pick up a strain of their conversation and said the first thing that popped in his head. “You don’t want to have babies?”
Her mouth dropped open.
Apparently this wasn’t an appropriate conversation to have with a lady. “I’m sorry,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “This isn’t something we should talk about?”
She glanced behind her out the window, then after her gaze flitted about the room, she sighed, and looked at him. “I’ve only talked about it with my mother and my brothers.”
“So… do you?” he asked.
“That’s kind of an odd question,” she said, going back to sit in her chair. “It’s just something that happens when people get married.”
Bradley had never thought about it that way. In his world, whether or not to have children was a choice. But in this time period, she was right. It was what happened when people got married… or had intimate relations.
“So, I know you don’t want to marry an old man, but do you want to marry at all?”
She gave him another perplexed expression in response. “Things must be much different in your time.”
He scoffed. “I can’t even begin to explain it. You’d think everyone heathens.”
“Are they?”
Bradley considered the question. Some people would, doubtlessly, answer yes. He believed that most people were intrinsically good. By the standards of 1838, however, they would probably appear less than civilized. Bikinis and speedos on beaches. Women in shorts and yoga pants. Premarital sex. Hooking up. “The people are similar,” he decided. “But the customs are different.”
“Would I like it?” she asked, her eyes bright with anticipation.
He thought about her independence. Her desire to work in the tavern and keep books. Her wish to see the country. He smiled broadly. “Yes,” he said. “I think you would like it very much.”
A clock somewhere tolled the hour again. He shoved off the sideboard and crossed the space separating them. He held out his hand, palm up, hoping against hope that the movies had gotten it right. She immediately put her hand in his. He kissed the back of her hand. “I must go,” he said, “but God-willing, I will soon return.”
He turned on his heel and went into the hallway, moving instinctively toward the stairway. His mind began racing. Perhaps he should change back into his jeans before returning to his own time. He glanced down at the jacket and trousers he wore. It was New Orleans, after all. He shouldn’t stand out too badly.
The tavern was empty. Someone had turned all the chairs upside down on the tables, presumably to sweep and mop the floors. He hurried across the room, dodging chairs and tables.
He reached out, put a hand on the doorknob, and took a deep breath. Waited. It had been difficult to get back here last time. Would it be more difficult each time?
I just need to get the money and come right back. I won’t go anywhere near this door without the money again.
He turned the knob and pushed open the door.
He had to grab hold of the door keep his knees from buckling.
Chapter Eight
Camille watched him walk out the door. The feel of his lips on her hand was still strong. His scent of spice and something unfamiliar still lingered in the room. She turned back to the window and, pushing open the shutters, leaned forward so she could see the front door to the tavern below. When Bradley stepped out, she’d see him.
As the seconds continued to pass, her heart tripped up a notch. Had he made it? Perhaps Madame Laveau had been mistaken. Perhaps it was easier than she had believed to travel back and forth through time.
She was about to lean back and follow him downstairs when she spotted him stepping into the street, nearly in front of a horse and buggy. As he gazed around, her heart went out to him. He was here – lost in time.
And she was the only one who could help him.
Though it created an odd sensation in her stomach, she also thought she may the reason he was here.
Madame Laveau hadn’t said that outright, but something in her expression had led Camille to think of that as a possibility. Perhaps tonight when the fortune-teller met Bradley she would be willing to say more.
Camille fought the urge to go to Bradley. To comfort him. To help him figure out that he may never return to his time. But in her heart, she knew this was something he had to work out for himself. It was something he had to do. She couldn’t do it for him. As much as she wanted to.
Steeling herself, she leaned back inside and pulled the shutter closed. She needed to work on the day’s accounting.
Though it was only mid-morning, the street was already busy. A horse and buggy passed in front of him and another was close behind. These weren’t tourist carriages and the road was unpaved. It was the same as it had been yesterday.
He stood just outside the door, at the edge of the street and gazed around him. It was the same, yet, so very different.
It was not a trick of the light or a movie set. There were no cameras. No electric anything. This was 1838. He’d know it before, but his mind still struggled to wrap itself around the idea.
He turned toward the river. Spellbound.
When he came to the Cathedral, he went up the steps, and wandered inside. Once inside, familiarity washed over him. There were only two other people inside – women – kneeling, deep in prayer. He made the sign of the cross before walking down the aisle and genuflected when he reached the altar.
At first his thoughts raced so much he couldn’t think. His mind was essentially blank. Then a peacefulness began to settle over him.
This is where he had chosen to be. He had worked hard to get here. But for whatever reason, everything had not gone as planned. Nonetheless, it was a miracle that he was here. He had done it. He had traveled back in time.
His thoughts shifted to Camille. Had she somehow lured him back? Then a horrific thought came to him out of nowhere. Perhaps it wasn’t Camille at all. Perhaps she was just an illusion of a reason. Perhaps it was his sister who needed him.
His heart in his throat, he lowered his head and prayed with all his heart. He prayed for many things, but mostly he prayed that his sister was well.
As he knelt, intent on his commune with God, he felt someone kneel next to him. Slowly, he lifted his head and peeked from the corner of his eyes to see who knelt so close to him.
It was a priest. The priest watched him and smiled when Bradley turned to look at him.
“My son,” the priest said. “Is there something troubling you that p
erhaps you’d like to talk about?”
Bradley had never known a priest to be so forthcoming with assistance. The priests of his time stayed away unless approached. He supposed they were trained not to be intrusive.
When Bradley didn’t answer, the priest continued. “I don’t mean to pry, but you seem to be troubled.”
“I am troubled,” he admitted.
“I’ve been told I’m a good listener.”
“It’s complicated.”
“Most troubles are, my son.”
Bradley rubbed his eyes. Without opening them, he blurted. “I’ve found myself somewhere I thought I wanted to be, but now that I’m here, I don’t know how it happened and I don’t know what I’m supposed to do next.”
“That does sound complicated.” The priest sat quietly a moment, then continued. “Does it really matter how it happened? Since it got you where you wanted.”
Bradley slowly shook his head. “Probably not.”
“The priest nodded. “It seems important for you to figure out what to do next.”
“I have to do something.”
“Maybe. Or maybe time will sort things out.”
Bradley chuckled. “Time is the problem.”
“Ah. Time is something no one can control.”
Bradley looked back at the priest’s kindly face. “Has time ever been known to… trifle with people?”
“Ah. Time is fickle. You never know where it goes. Sometimes, it seems to outstay its welcome and other times it’s fleeting. Here one moment. Gone the next. No man can get a handle on time. It does what it pleases. If it wants to trifle with someone, I suppose nothing can stop it.”
“That’s not very comforting.”
The priest chuckled. “Perhaps not. But it can also be freeing.”
Bradley lowered his eyes again and the priest rested his chin on his hands in silent prayer. “There’s a lady involved?” he asked.
Bradley jerked his head up. “What makes you ask that?” he asked, then quickly added. “Father.”
The priest chuckled again. “There’s usually a lady involved when a man is so troubled as you seem to be.”
The priest stood and placed a hand on Bradley’s head. “May God be with you, my son,” he said and walked away, his robes silently flowing around him.
Bradley exhaled deeply. He was relieved that the priest had left him because he so badly wanted to tell someone about his experiences. And he so very didn’t dare. Camille was the only person in this time he could speak to about it. And that had come about quite fortuitously when she had watched him disappear.
He sat a little longer, letting his mind wander as it would, allowing himself to think of nothing in particular.
As he sat there in the coolness of the church’s serenity, he realized what his first order of business was.
He had to find his sister.
He wandered about the city a bit more, racking his brain over what he could do for income – just case he was stuck here without his money. Unsuccessful in coming up with anything, he made his way back to Camille’s townhouse. Although he expected the door to the tavern to be unlocked, he found it a little disconcerting that he could so freely wander upstairs to the living quarters.
Some of his anxiety about the unlocked door, however, was relieved when he was acknowledged by Billy, the large black man who lurked about the halls. It would be unlikely that anyone unauthorized would get past the man.
He stopped by the dining area first, where he found platters with cornbread, turkey, cheese, and dried apples. Not being the mood for any surprise visitors, he took his plate down the hall to his guest room. He discovered that the window overlooking the courtyard below was actually a door. Delighted with the discovery, he took his plate to the balcony and ate at the little iron table and chair he found there.
It wouldn’t be long before it would be too hot to step outside, much less enjoy lunch outdoors. Perhaps tomorrow he could have lunch in the courtyard with Camille. There was a larger version of the table with four chairs nestled beneath a tree in the courtyard.
He’d given a lot of thought to the patterns of his time-travel. He had always traveled back at dusk with the setting sun, then returned after dark. Tonight he would recreate the conditions by having a drink in the tavern, then walking through the door or what he had come to think of as the portal. He smiled to himself at the sci-fi term he’d given to a door in 1838. Assuming that worked, he could get his money and begin the process of traveling back.
If it didn’t work, well… he would go to see Madame Laveau with Camille tonight at Midnight, then begin figuring out a way to get to Natchez to look for his sister.
A knock on his door jarred him from his thoughts and sent him back inside the room. “Yes?” he called.
Marcus opened the door. “Mister Adam would like to call upon you,” the servant said.
“Okay,” Bradley said, eliciting a raised eyebrow from the other man.
Adam came inside the room. “Bradley. You don’t mind if we speak for a moment, do you?”
“Of course not.” It wasn’t like he had a choice.
“I won’t keep you long. I just wanted to add something to our conversation this morning.”
Bradley nodded. “Would you like to sit?”
“No, I won’t be long. My daughter is very trusting. And she’s taken a liking to you. I think she misses the company of her brothers.”
“I agree,” Bradley said.
Adam didn’t appear to hear him. “I’m sure that once you have your feet back under you, you’ll be on your way. I understand that a hardship can be personal in nature. Nonetheless, I have eyes throughout the house. You mustn’t take advantage of being here in my home with my daughter.”
“I would never, Sir. I – “
Adam waved him off. “Words flow freely. It’s actions that are important to me. If I have any reason to doubt your sincerity, I’ll have you on the streets.”
“Yes sir.”
Adam was gone as quickly as he had come. Bradley, however, was left feeling edgy. And all the more determined to get the money he had left in his hotel room. It was obvious that his days of being welcome here were limited. No matter what Camille might believe, he couldn’t stay here long.
Camille closed the ledger with a sigh. She was caught up on her bookkeeping. She locked the money away in the strongbox. The membership fee had worked well, but they also did well with nightly walk-in sales. She would talk to her father about implementing two levels. One elite level that required a membership fee and another level for walk-ins and people who didn’t or couldn’t pay the membership fee. They could build up half the room and add a railing to separate the member area.
Pleased with her idea, she went upstairs to the dining area to eat lunch. For the hundredth time today, she wondered where Bradley was and what he was doing. She worried that he was lost in the city or had come to some harm. She should have gone with him. She would have, but she knew from her brothers that men were proud and needed to do things on their on. They didn’t like have a woman taking care of them.
She sighed. Thought of her mother and how she took care of the men in the family. Men were such odd creatures.
She would give him until after her nap. Then she would seek him out and hope that he would accept her help. He seemed agreeable enough. He reminded her of her brothers. Once they got over their little independent streak about something, they were good about talking to her and accepting her thoughts.
Camille woke refreshed from her nap and decided on a dark navy gown for tonight. She thought it best to wear dark clothing when she went out after dark in order to not draw attention to herself. She rang for her lady’s maid, Lizette, to help her fasten the gown and to do her hair. Lizette used a hot iron from the fireplace to put loose ringlets in Camille’s hair.
“Are you going out tonight, Miss?” Lizette asked.
“Not really,” Camille said. When she went out alone, she didn’t want anyone
to know. Servants gossiped. It was human nature and she didn’t hold it against them. She also knew that despite her attentions to be stealthy, she would doubtless be spotted by a servant anyway. But the less information they had about her whereabouts when she went to see Madam Laveau, the better. Her father would be unnecessarily worried if he knew his daughter was going to meet with a voodoo priestess. At least tonight, she, hopefully, wouldn’t be alone.
She closed her eyes as Lizette twirled her hair and wove a dark navy ribbon in with the curls. She was looking forward to spending the evening with Bradley. She refused to think that he wouldn’t be there. He wasn’t daft enough to get lost in the city. Besides, he had no money. And even though he thought he would be going back to his time soon, Camille didn’t think so.
After Lizette finished her hair, Camille twirled in front of the mirror. As she walked toward the hallway, she remembered that Bradley wasn’t her brother and it wouldn’t be proper for her to knock on his door.
“Lizette,” she said. “Would you ask Marcus to have Bradley meet me in the dining area?”
“Of course, Miss,” Lizette agreed and swiftly went to locate Marcus. Camille sighed. She couldn’t send Lizette to his room either. She had no doubt that every servant in the house knew about Bradley. In fact, word had probably traveled all the way to the planation by now.
She made her way to the dining area and stood with her back to the room, watching the people hurry to and fro on the street below.
“Miss Lafleur?” She turned at the sound of Bradley’s voice. And smiled broadly.
Though he returned her smiled, he watched her… warily?
“I thought we could eat something, then sit in the tavern until it’s time to go to Madame Laveau’s.”
“Sure,” he said, but made no move to approach her. Something was different about him. He seemed more distant.
“Very well,” she said, forcing a lightness to her voice that she didn’t feel. “What would you like?”
When the Stars Align Page 9