She sat on a low-hanging branch of a huge oak tree and studied the little miniature daisy in her hand. Nature itself was a miracle. No one could explain life. No one could explain God. Yet Camille knew it existed. She believed.
Just like she believed that Bradley had traveled here from the future. Believed and knew it in her heart. Just as she knew that she was in love with him.
No other man had come close to coaxing her from her home. But she would have followed him anywhere.
Without him, though, this wasn’t where she belonged.
She needed to go home.
Bradley had found her once. If it was meant to be, he’d find her again.
If not, she was prepared to live her life as a spinster. Despite what everyone said, it wasn’t necessary for a woman to marry. She could choose to be single if she so chose.
And without Bradley, she would not settle for someone she didn’t love.
Chapter Thirteen
Bradley lowered the wheels on the Challenger 350 jet and touched down at MLU – Monroe, Louisiana Airport. There was a long taxi ahead and a little bit of a wait before he could get out of the plane, but he didn’t mind. He enjoyed having the time to think and wind down after the flight.
It had been one month since his meeting with Noah Worthington. He and Mark had gone on the books of Skye Travel two days later. Noah had suddenly lost one of his best pilots to United, so he had several flights booked and needed a pilot. Noah had a newborn baby at home with his new wife, so he was taking a leave from flying. That left him in desperate need of two pilots.
Bradley and Mark had unknowingly been on his short list for some time. But if they hadn’t been available, Noah would have gone to the next person on the list. There was no shortage of pilots waiting to sign up with Skye Travel which branded itself on having the largest floating fleet in America. They had incorporated the American flag into their logo and it was proudly emblazoned on the tail of each plane.
In the month since he’d taken the job with Skye Travel, he barely spoken to anyone in his family – not his grandfather or his mother. He’d driven his grandfather’s car to Natchez and Mark had flown him from there home to Houston. He would soon be moving to Ft. Worth in order to be closer to Skye Travels.
As he taxied toward the airport apron, he thought about his father. Although his sister had reconnected with their father to a limited degree, Bradley hadn’t spoken to him since the day he walked out on them, leaving his mother in tears. His mother found a job and Jonathan helped them out with money, but the emotional damage his father had done to his mother had been more than Bradley could forgive.
He checked the time. He was meeting his mother and her husband at the Mohawk Tavern in two hours. His mother had been happily remarried for five years. Bradley liked the guy and as long as he treated her alright, he was happy for her.
An hour later, he parked the car he’d borrowed from the airport in a parking space at the restaurant parking lot. Since he was early, he went straight to the bar and ordered a beer.
Sitting at the bar reminded him of Camille, as most things did these days.
He opened his iPad as he waited. Some would probably say Bradley had gone mad. He had read every single thing he could find on the Internet about the late 1830s, Louisiana and Natchez, specifically. He’d exhausted every resource he could find. Now his Kindle was filled with books he’d downloaded. He’d decided that books might have information that wasn’t available online.
He had just added another book to his Kindle when his mother came up next to him and drew him into a hug. “It’s so good to see you, Sweetie,” she said.
Bradley hugged his mother back, absorbing the familiar smell of her perfume. She looked happy. Relaxed. “How are you, Mom?” he asked.
“I’m well,” Anna said, pulling her husband, Allen forward. “I thought you might be early.”
He shook hands with Allen before the two of them sat next to him.
“We can get a table when you’re ready,” he said.
“There’s no wait,” his mother said. “if you want to finish your beer.” He heard the strain in her voice as she glanced at his beer.
He smiled, pushed the beer away, “It’s just a prop,” he said. “Let get something to eat. I’m starved.”
Once they were seated at the table, they asked the waiter to bring oysters on the half shell as an appetizer.
“How’s your new job?” Anna asked. “Is it everything you thought it would be?”
“It’s great,” he said, but even he could hear the lack of enthusiasm in his voice.
“Have you heard from your sister?” she asked.
Bradley glanced at Allen. Shook his head. He’d wanted to tell his mother, but he wanted to tell her in private. When he’d originally set up this dinner with her, he hadn’t planned on her bringing her husband.
“Oh,” Anna asked, her eyes brightening. “I meant to tell you. We just hired a new girl right out of college. She’s single. I told her about you and although she said she wasn’t interested in dating anyone, I think you should stop by and meet her.”
Bradley shook his head. “I’m not interested, Mom.”
Anna dug in her handbag and pulled out her cell phone. “I took her picture,” she said as she scrolled through the images on her phone.
“Did she know it?” he asked, but remembered he had a picture of Camille that she didn’t know about. He told himself that was different because Camille was from the past and didn’t even know what a photo was.
“Well, no, I don’t think so, but just look at her,” Anna said, handing her phone to Bradley.
The girl in the photo was pretty. His mother was right about that. But the thought of meeting her – of talking to her - churned his stomach.
Their oysters arrived as Bradley handed the phone back to his mother. Bradley had suddenly lost his appetite. He let his mother and Allen have the oysters and he ordered another cold beer, ignoring the look on his mother’s face.
All he could think about was Camille. Her smile. Her laugh. Her smooth skin and full lips. Her bright green eyes.
Camille was all he wanted. There had never been anyone else like her. And there never would be.
Bradley’s heart was branded with her.
And as much as he fought it. As much as he tried to move forward, there was no denying it.
This past month, he’d gone about his business. He’d taken the new job – the job of his dreams. But his heart hadn’t been in it. After work, he went home and isolated. He didn’t talk to anyone he didn’t have to.
His life was in the past.
“I can’t go on like this,” he said out loud.
“What?” his mother asked.
“I’m sorry, Mom,” he said. “I can’t do it. I can’t meet anyone new.”
“You have someone,” she said.
He nodded. “I’m in love with a girl named Camille.” As he said the words, his heart lightened, just a little. “If he could say it out loud, perhaps it was real.
“When do we get to meet her?”
Bradley scoffed.
The server took their food order and brought Bradley’s beer. He needed to talk to his mother alone. There was no need to make Allen part of this. They had agreed at the beginning – him, his mother, and Jonathan, to keep it between the three of them.
“We’ll talk about it later,” Bradley said. “Can I crash on your couch tonight?”
“No, but you can sleep in the guest room.”
“It’s finished?” he asked.
“New paint and new carpet,” Allen said. “Your mother never runs out of projects for me to do.”
Bradley would have to drop the car back at the airport and ride with his mother to their house. He couldn’t keep the car overnight. It was going to be a long night and a lot of trouble, but he needed to get his mother alone. She was not going to be happy.
There was a strong possibility that she was about to lose her other child.
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The next morning, as Bradley waited to taxi down the runway, he absorbed the pages of a book that included journal entries written by a plantation mistress. Normally, before meeting Camille, he would have just flipped through the pages, looking for something that looked interesting.
But now that he had spent time in 1838 and had gotten to know the people and the customs, he read every word he could find. Every single word. It was as though he was afraid he would miss an important detail if he skipped over even a single line.
He had to put his iPad aside as he became airborne, but once he was in flight, he could monitor the plane and read, albeit a little more slowly.
As he monitored the controls and set the autopilot, his mind wandered back to his mother. There had been tears. He regretted that. But he felt he owed it to her to tell her what he was thinking instead of just disappearing. Just disappearing didn’t seem fair to her. Especially since she no longer had her daughter either.
His mother was happy though in her life with Allen. It seemed that he deserved a chance at having happiness as well. Even if it brought his family pain.
The plane safely in route, he picked up his iPad and turned back to the book he was reading. He wasn’t sure what he was looking for, but he knew he would know it when he saw it.
Deep in the world of 1838, one eye on the flight monitors, he froze. He’d found what he was looking for.
In 1839, a steamboat, The Orleans, had exploded on the way from Natchez to St. Louis. It was a well-publicized event. But there was another related incident that hadn’t been highly publicized. Another steamboat, the Sultana, had just left the Natchez dock with a packed passenger list. Someone watching the view from the deck had seen the explosion north of them and the Sultana had turned back to help out. According to the account, they had gotten too close and some sparks had spread to the Sultana. The sparks had landed in a set of cotton bales that were in the process of being moved below deck. There were a few passengers on deck, watching the view from the top deck. One woman had been killed. Her name stood out on the page and sent ice water through Bradley’s veins.
Erika Becquerel.
His sister had been making a trip to New Orleans. Whatever for? Had she been going to look for him?
The memory of the drunken steamboat captain flashed through his memory eliciting anger along with fear.
He had to stop her. He had to save his sister’s life.
Now he had two reasons to return to 1838.
Camille had enlisted Erika’s help and had gotten home before her father returned from the plantation.
Camille accepted that Bradley had left. She had unpacked his trunk and put the clothes back in the bureau. She did this knowing it was illogical. It was doubtful she would even see him again.
She took the jacket he had worn his last night here and carefully folded it. After running a hand over it, she took it to the bureau and laid it on the shelf where she had put his other jackets. As she turned, an item that didn’t fit in caught her attention. She shifted his clothes and found the item. It was the odd britches he’d worn the night he’d shown up wet from the thunderstorm. She pulled out the stiff cloth and shook out the pants. One side was heavier than the other.
Reaching into the left pocket, she pulled out a pocket watch. She recognized it immediately. It was by LeRoy made in Paris. She knew this because her father had a similar one – except her father’s was gold and this one was pewter.
She was thankful this one was silver, otherwise she would have suspected that this was, indeed, her father’s watch. She stared gave the stem a little twist and stared at the ticking second hand. This was a valuable item and told her a great deal about Bradley. Things he hadn’t told her.
First, he came from a family of some means. Second, it told her he had not planned to leave this time. If he had planned to go, he would have taken the watch with him. It was much too valuable to leave behind.
Most importantly, it told her that if it was within his power, he would return to her.
Her face flushed with this new emotion, she retrieved a light shawl from her room, and went out the back door. She walked through the alley down to the river wharf. It wasn’t the safest place for a female, but it was broad daylight and if she walked north a little ways, she would come to a little park near some respectable houses. She could be there in twenty minutes.
She lifted her face and enjoyed the feel of the sunlight on her skin. There was a light breeze coming off the river, putting the odors of the city behind her.
There were several women already sitting on the benches watching their children running and playing. Camille recognized a couple of the women as casual acquaintances. But since she spent most of her time either at the plantation or in the tavern, she wasn’t in a position to feel obligated to converse with them.
Instead she found an empty bench overlooking the river and sat, allowing her thoughts to roam.
Like the river, its water choosing its familiar path, with nothing strong enough to veer it off course, her thoughts flowed to Bradley.
She gazed toward the clouds, studying the wispy white streaks and wondered where he was now. What was he doing? Did he ever think of her?
He isn’t supposed to be here. Madame Laveau’s words drifted back to her.
Bradley had left the room by the time the mystical woman had turned her uncanny gaze on Camille. Camille had steeled herself and bravely kept her seat as Madame Laveau spoke in a deep, eerie voice. Camille had questioned her further.
“What do you mean he shouldn’t be here?” she’d asked. “Do you mean in this time?”
She’d waved her hands, encompassing everything. “Here. This time. New Orleans.”
“Where then? Where is he supposed to be?”
Madame Laveau had leaned forward and placed a finger beneath Camille’s chin. Even the mere memory of the woman’s cool, but gentle touch still sent shivers down her spine. “He should be in Natchez near his sister.”
Camille pulled her shawl closer, her eyes moist as the memories flooded back.
Madame Laveau had removed her finger then and sat back, her eyes closed. As the seconds passed, Camille stood up to leave. Perhaps she had nothing more to say.
“And you,” Madame Laveau had added.
“Me what?” Camille asked, but the woman had waved her off, dismissing her.
Camille had joined Bradley who had obviously been distraught by the visit with the woman.
Camille’s gaze locked onto the horizon. There was something she was missing. “And me what?” she whispered out loud.
Two boys laughed and squealed in the park behind her. Camille felt a painful tug of grief from missing her brothers. Her father stayed busy with the tavern and various business meetings. Her mother preferred the quietness of the planation.
Camille needed to go to the plantation. She needed to talk to her mother.
Two days later Camille smiled as she found her mother behind the house dipping candles. Though they had servants for such tasks, Rebecca Lafleur enjoying doing such everyday tasks herself.
“It keeps my hands busy and my mind quiet,” she claimed.
When she saw Camille, her face brightened and she left the candle task to a servant who had been assisting. She put an arm around Camille. “My lovely daughter returns from the city,” she said.
“I waited too long,” Camille said.
“It’s not the same there without your brothers, is it?”
“Nowhere is,” Camille realized.
“I feel that way about all three of my children,” her mother said. “Come, let’s have some strawberry water.”
Arm in arm, they strolled to the house and went up the back steps where a servant brought them water and a plate of strawberries. Camille sat back and watched as her mother cut up the fruit and added it to the water. It was odd having others do for her after having become so accustomed to serving others at the tavern.
“I know you didn’t come all this way j
ust to sit and drink cold water with me,” her mother said.
“And what would be wrong with that?” Camille asked, taking a glass from her mother.
“Nothing. Except that word has it that the young man who was calling on you left to travel to Natchez.”
Camille set down her glass. Did her mother know then?
“Some say,” Rebecca continued. “that you travelled with him. Others, of course, wouldn’t dare spread such rumors.”
Camille leaned back in the chair. Her mother knew. But she wouldn’t judge her. Rebecca Lafleur understood that things were not always simple.
She suddenly felt safe. Her mother would know what to do. She always did.
“Mother,” she said. “You know I’ve never wanted to get married.”
Rebecca smiled. “Who could blame you. Your father only introduced you to the most unattractive of men. Haven’t you wondered if maybe he didn’t want you to marry?”
Camille’s eyes widened. The thought had never even occurred to her. “Surely that’s not the case,” she said. “Anyway, I think that perhaps that I never wanted to leave my family and marry because I hadn’t met the man I wanted to marry.”
“And now you have,” Rebecca said.
Camille could only aspire to exhibit the calmness her mother did in such situations.
“I’m not sure,” Camille said. “Perhaps.”
“You have to decide if you’re willing to live in Natchez.”
“I think you could be a sorcerer,” Camille said, a smile playing about her lips. “You could be right. Except that I don’t know if he’s still there.”
Rebecca frowned. “What do you mean?”
Somewhat relieved that her mother didn’t know everything. Camille said, “He’s from far away and I don’t know where he is.”
“Does he have family in Natchez?”
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