by Donna Steele
She ducked into the kitchen alcove and pulled open the refrigerator. Takeout containers predominated. He hadn’t been leading her on about not having a woman in his life. Am I in his life? Guess so, strange or not.
The mutual warmth they shared was unprecedented in her experience. So why did the feel of him already seem familiar when she touched him and when he touched her?
“Hungry?”
She jumped when Dusty spoke softly into her ear. She hadn’t even noticed the shower cutting off.
“Not for anything in there.” Her eyes raked over the expensive suit and incredibly ugly tie. “May I make a suggestion?”
Instead of answering, he nuzzled her neck.
Feeling herself start to melt, Dee put up a hand. “No, we don’t have time. Um, would you be insulted if I chose a different tie for you?”
His attempt at a scowl failed, but he waved his arm in the direction of the bedroom. She quickly scanned the available ties and bit her lip to keep from laughing. There had to be one . . .
She settled on a semi-muted green and gray design to go with the darker gray suit and held it out. “Bet the salesman picked this one out.”
“Humph.” Dusty took her offering with narrowed eyes and made the swift change.
“We better get moving,” she reminded him. He grabbed his suitcase and followed her out, turning only to lock the door behind them. In the elevator he snaked his arm around her, pulling her close. If her hair ended up slightly disheveled when they reached the ground floor, there was no one to notice.
He tossed the suitcase in the backseat along with his briefcase and took the passenger’s side again.
“I thought you might want to drive.” She fastened her seatbelt, watching him.
“I’d rather observe and maybe stroke.”
Her eyebrow rose but she didn’t push away his hand as his finger traced the stitching of her jeans along her outer thigh.
“Tell me about this trip.” She glanced over at him.
“I’d rather talk about when I get back.”
“We can do that too. Tell me what kind of meeting you’re attending.”
“We have a contract with a firm in Denver for a solar farm. It’s experimental and I’ve incorporated some new designs. They can’t seem to follow my directions. My supervisor is going along to ensure I don’t call them morons to their faces and screw up the deal.”
“Would you do that?”
“Not on purpose, but my feelings might leak out the side.”
“You don’t accept mediocrity.”
He shrugged. “I never thought about it that way. I mean, the designs are written out. If they follow the directions . . .”
“Is the information in words of one syllable? Maybe they don’t have anyone as good as you at their end.”
The discomfort the topic had started vanished. “Thanks. Like I told you last night, I’m not good with people. Leave me alone to work and I do great.”
“Last night with me was on the great side.”
“You’re the exception proving the rule. Besides, no one else gives me the buzz you do.”
She laughed out loud. “What is that, anyway? You’re right. I’ve never felt anything like it before.”
“No clue, but I’m damn grateful. I haven’t been this non-stressed since I can remember.”
“Don’t tell me you aren’t good with people. That didn’t even sound like a line.”
“Because it wasn’t. Intellectually I’m aware I don’t know you, yet . . .”
She nodded, her eyes on the road. “I agree.”
That’s when the world turned upside down.
Chapter 4
The car bounced to a stop as Dusty shook his head to clear it.
He spotted a woman, strangely garbed, standing just outside the car. Unmoving, her eyes watched them intently.
He must be hallucinating.
The airbags had deployed. One lay slack across his lap.
He shook his head harder, feeling as though he moved and thought in slow motion.
Wiping a hand across his face, he spotted a trace of blood.
Nosebleed, from the impact of the airbag?
Dusty stared at the crimson stain for a moment, mesmerized.
Then the woman was no longer there and time and consciousness snapped back.
“Dee!”
Twisting toward her, he noted a trickle of blood on her face. Either the airbag or contact with the steering wheel had knocked her out. The beginnings of a lump grew on her forehead, though the airbag had protected her too. He found the pulse in her throat and closed his eyes in relief.
What the hell had they hit? No, someone must have crashed into them, because he’d seen nothing in front of their car. There had been light traffic on the road this early but they had to have collided with something head on.
Come to think of it, where was the traffic? He should be hearing sirens and brakes squealing. Something. Hadn’t a woman been standing out there . . .?
He stared out the shattered front windshield.
“What the bloody fuck?”
Where was the highway? The other cars? They were in a plowed field. They’d been on the way to the airport. National always had traffic surrounding it to some degree and there were no places like this along the route. He’d traveled the road often enough to know. Where were the people? The woman, the one that had watched them? Hell, where was the damn road?
Dee stirred and moaned. His full attention returned to her. “Dee? Dee, look at me.”
“D-Dusty? What . . .?”
“I don’t know. Just relax.”
“Your flight.”
“Don’t worry about the flight. Are you okay?”
She fell quiet for a moment, stretching in her seat, running a hand over her face, her forehead, touching the injury there. “I’m okay. I have a slight headache. Everything seems to work.”
“Good.” He took a deep breath in relief.
“What happened?”
“I don’t know. I’ll get out and check.”
“No!” She grabbed his arm. “It’s too dangerous to get out on a highway . . . What the—” She stared through the shattered glass. “Where are we?”
“Good question.”
“No really, where the hell are we? I can’t see the—we’re not on a road.”
“Right, we’re in a field and I have no memory of any field being anywhere near our route. Sit still, get your breath. I’ll scout around.”
Ignoring his words, she unbuckled herself and reached to open the door. The creaking it emitted startled them both, and she had to use some force, but managed to shove the door open. Dusty got his own door open and raced around to her side. He caught hold of her arm as she took a tentative step. “Are you steady?”
“Yes, you?”
“I’m good.” Touching her helped. The buzz, though muted, was still there. He turned in a circle, searching for anything familiar. The air smelled fresh and green with no smog or scent of diesel. He could almost taste the freshly turned dirt they stood on.
“Are we awake?” Her voice sounded more than a little shaky.
“I think so. But we ain’t in Kansas, Toto. Or in D.C.”
She chuckled, surprising him. “I can’t even hear any traffic. There was a woman. Did you see her?”
“You saw a woman?”
“In the beige thing, looked like a robe. Never mind, I must have imagined her.”
Beige robe?
The person he’d noticed wore strange clothing. But Dee had been unconscious at the time. Dusty shoved it away. There were more important things to think about now.
He checked out her car. The front end was demolished, proving the
y’d hit something damned unyielding, head-on.
Dee gawked at the damage. “What happened? I can’t think of any kind of wreck that would throw us this far off the road. I was at the speed limit, maybe a couple of miles over. Nothing was in front of me.”
Then she paused for a moment, rubbing her temple. “Okay, there was a black sedan ahead of us in the far left lane, a couple of car lengths in front, but nothing in our lane. Then I hit something.” She pointed to the grate. “Look at the damage. Nothing was there, yet whatever I hit was solid.”
“Invisible?” he offered.
“Be serious.”
“Actually, invisibility is theoretically possible.”
“We’re not in a lab.”
“No, we’re in an impossible field in what should be our nation’s capital, on the way to an international airport. And your car is totaled. And there is no road.”
With a soft groan, she closed her eyes.
“I should have taken the damn metro and left you in bed.”
Her eyes flew open. “No, don’t feel guilty about this. I’m the one who offered and I have insurance. But what’s going on? Where are we?”
He turned in a circle, searching for any kind of clue. Nothing. Scanning the area, he spotted trees bordering the field, where the rich dirt had been turned recently. It wasn’t muddy. “Take a seat in the car. I’ll see if I can find—”
“No!”
Dusty stopped abruptly. “What?”
“We’ll both go.”
After a moment, he nodded.
“First let me see if you’re injured. I have some wipes in the glove compartment. You have blood on your face.”
“You too. I’ll get the wipes.” He sat in the driver’s seat and leaned across to snag the packet of sterile towelettes. Carefully he removed the blood from her upper lip, then examined her for bumps and bruises.
Dee did the same for him, running her hands through his hair to search for injuries. “Do you want to take anything with us?” she asked, obviously reluctant to leave the relative safety of the car.
“Don’t think I’ll need the suitcase yet. What about you?”
“My bag.”
He reached into the car and grabbed her purse.
“Thanks, but I meant my doctor’s bag. I’m ER, remember? I keep an emergency bag in the car.”
“Think we’ll need a doctor’s bag?”
“I don’t know, but I want to take it with us in case. And my water bottle.”
“We’re not in a desert.”
“Might as well be prepared.”
No point in arguing. Dusty forced the rear door open and located her black bag and a water bottle with the hospital logo prominently displayed. She took the bag and slung the strap over her shoulder. “Let me—” he began.
Dee shook her head and he let it go. Maybe carrying the bag would make her feel more secure right now. Having her at his side certainly gave him a sense of much-needed comfort and stability. He’d have to analyze those feelings later.
Where the hell are we? They’d been on highway 400 headed north from Alexandria. That was not where they seemed to be at the moment.
The sight of the car’s crumpled front end sobered him. They had definitely run head-on into something solid, but where was the obstruction? Where was everyone?
His arm went around her, pulling her closer. To protect her or himself? He wasn’t going to analyze that, either.
Chapter 5
After Dee locked the car, they turned in the direction of a line of trees since no obvious destination presented itself. She at least had on walking shoes. Dusty hadn’t considered changing out of his dress shoes but he didn’t want to take the time to go back now, even though he found he was loath to let the car out of sight.
Past the line of trees, they spotted an unpaved, well-packed road. They exchanged a silent glance, then began following the lane.
They weren’t far out of town, if the place they approached could be called such. Few people walked about this early. A couple of men in what appeared to be vintage costumes strolled along wooden sidewalks bordering a rustic street.
Dusty stepped onto the walkway and took her hand.
“Is this a movie set?” she whispered.
“Maybe.” That sort of possibility would be reassuring, but the structures were built solidly. Dusty nodded to a sign on one of the buildings reading “Mercantile,” and she rolled her eyes. The door opened easily so Dee followed him inside.
“Morning.” They heard the voice from the rear of the shop in response to the tinkling bell over the door.
“Now, yes sir. You’re out early this morning. How can I help . . .” The man came into sight, wiping his hands on a well-worn, white apron. He studied them both and retreated a step.
“Sorry to bother you.” Dusty took the lead. “We had an accident about a mile back that way.”
“Accident?”
“Our car hit—”
“Car?”
Dusty gave Dee a quick ‘help me’ look.
“Could you tell us where we are? We’ve gotten lost somehow,” she said quickly.
The storeowner’s eyes traveled up and down her body, taking in the jeans and T-shirt. The look on his face bordered on scandalized. “You’re not from around here.”
“No, sir. Could you—”
“You’re in Braddock Crossing.”
The name meant nothing to Dusty. From her expression, the same held true for Dee.
Dee opened her mouth to ask another question when a scream came from the rear of the store. The storeowner raced to the back with Dusty and Dee only a half-step behind.
A young woman held her hand out, staring in horror at the blood dripping from a deep cut.
“Daphne!” The older man raced to the young woman but Dee moved faster, seeing a patient in need of her help. She had already rounded the counter, snatching up a clean, folded cloth. She pressed it firmly against the cut.
“Get my bag.” She tossed the words at Dusty, not bothering to look up. “You’re going to be okay,” she assured the young woman. “Let me examine your hand.”
“W-who are you?” The girl tried to shrink away but Dee had hold of her wrist.
“Let go of my girl!” The owner tried to grab Dee’s arm, but Dusty stopped him.
“She’s a doctor. Let her check the girl out.”
“A doctor? She’s a woman, and a strange one at that.”
Dusty held the man’s shoulder and inspected him closely. The man stared at Dee’s jeans and his daughter’s bloody hand with the same fascinated horror. Dusty eyed Daphne warily; the girl cowered behind the counter, weeping as Dee examined her wound.
She wore a long dark skirt and a high collared, long-sleeved white blouse. Pretty, until the blood ruined the fabric.
The shop owner’s shirt appeared to be linen and sported a high, banded collar. His large apron covered his trousers.
Had they found an Amish village? No, there wasn’t one this close to D.C. that Dusty could recall. The clothing worn by the other men on the street also looked like something out of an old photograph.
He stepped between the women and this strange man. “My name is Dustin. This is Doctor Stevens. She’s not going to hurt Daphne. What’s your name?”
At the authoritative tone of voice Dusty used, the man quit struggling to reach Daphne. “I’m Caleb Douglas. This is my store and Daphne’s my daughter.”
“Nice to meet you, Caleb. Let’s give Doctor Stevens space to check Daphne out.”
“Is she a midwife?”
“No, she’s a doctor.”
“Is she one of those suffragettes I’ve been hearin’ about? Wanting the vote and all that nonsense? What upstanding school
would admit a woman for their doctorin’ program?”
Dusty gaped at Dee and she met his eyes for an instant of shock, before she returned her full attention to Daphne. Dee murmured soothing sounds to the girl, who did seem to be calming some.
“We’ve been on the road for a couple of days. Do you know the date?”
“The date? Today’s September second.”
Not what Dusty needed, though it was the date of his flight. “Do you have a calendar? I need to—”
“I’ve got an Almanac. What’s she doing to Daphne?”
“I think she’s getting the bleeding stopped. Would you mind if I checked your Almanac?”
Obviously torn, even Caleb could see Daphne was calmer. He reached behind the counter and took out a worn, softbound book, handing it to Dusty, not taking his eyes from the pair of women. A good thing, because Dusty knew his own eyes had gone wide.
1891.
Chapter 6
“Dusty?” Dee’s voice drew him back. “This wound needs stitches. Where’s the nearest trauma center?”
Dusty bit down on his first inclination to respond with, ‘a hundred and twenty-plus years that-a-way.’ Instead he turned to Caleb. “Is there a town doctor nearby?”
Dusty felt Dee’s eyes on him, but she kept quiet.
Caleb’s face darkened. “No, sir. Doc Tillman passed away late last week. We’re gonna be searching for someone.”
“Dee.” He knew his voice didn’t hide his concern. “There isn’t another doctor here. Can you handle it?”
“Now wait just a minute!” Caleb tried again to get past Dusty but he was no match for a larger, younger man.
“I can, but I’d rather not work on the wound here. Toss me my bag,” Dee said, still concentrating on her patient.
“Did the doctor have an office, a clinic?” Dusty handed the bag over the counter this time.
Caleb surveyed him for a long moment before nodding. “He had an office in his home.”