Another Time (Guardians of Now Book 1)

by Donna Steele

  She hesitated. “But we are, Dusty. Playing.”

  ~ ~ ~

  Wrong thing to say. Dee realized her mistake instantly. She watched him absorb those words and sensed a wall go up between them.

  Yet he replied easily enough. “There was only my father and me for most of my life. Mom was t-boned at a stoplight when I was in kindergarten. Who’s looking for a drunk driver at ten in the morning? I don’t remember much about her. We moved quite a lot with Dad’s job, so I don’t have a place I think of as home unless it’s the apartment you saw.” The tone of his voice had changed, flattened.

  “Dusty, I’m sorry. If you don’t want to—”

  “It’s okay. You do need to know this stuff, even if we’re not really together.”

  She wanted to bite her tongue off. His mood had sunk like a stone. They were together in some strange way; had been since that buzz surrounded them in the bar. Maybe she hadn’t realized how together until this blunder.

  How do I fix this?

  ~ ~ ~

  Playing married. That’s what Dee thought. And there was no real reason for her to feel any differently. The problem was, Dusty hadn’t been. Why had the statement jarred him so?

  To be honest, he hadn’t realized until she said the words out loud that he felt so right being with her. He’d never married. Never wanted to, but feeling as comfortable with her as he did . . . Shit. He’d been deluding himself and he hadn’t even realized.

  No way could he be in love with her. Not after only a handful of days. And she wasn’t in love with him. They were all either one had right now, in a strange place.

  He didn’t feel like talking anymore. If this was a role he’d been cast in, he didn’t know his lines and didn’t feel up to improvisation at this point.

  “It’s been a long day. I’m sure you’re tired. I know I am.”

  “Dusty, I’m sorry.”

  “Nothing to apologize for. You probably want to check on your patient one more time. I’ll go on up.”

  “Dusty—”

  He didn’t stop or turn around. There was nothing to say.

  Dusty changed in the dressing room of the master bedroom and carefully folded away his clothes. Mrs. Masters had found a couple of pairs of pants that Tillman must have outgrown decades ago. Millie had altered them for him along with a couple of Caleb’s shirts. He couldn’t even buy any with the currency he held in his wallet. When he got his first pay, clothing would have to be a priority.

  Who gives a flying fuck anyway? They were playing, right? Didn’t matter what he wore or what he taught or anything. He needed to get her home and then walk away. He’d done nothing to investigate the phenomena, not that he had the first damned clue what he could do.

  For all he knew he’d suffered a concussion in the wreck, existed in a coma somewhere, and this was a dream.

  That had to be what happened. All of this, a hallucination.

  Dusty wrapped Doc Tillman’s robe around himself and went in search of another bedroom.

  Chapter 19

  With a sinking heart, Dee watched Dusty stride away. She hadn’t meant what she’d said, at least not the way he’d taken it. They didn’t know each other well enough for him to realize her fear. She’d never meant to hurt him. He believed he wasn’t good with people. Why didn’t he see his abilities were so much better than hers?

  With a sigh, she rose from the sofa and went to check on Connie. The young woman slept peacefully, and hopefully she’d do so until morning. Her slight rise in temperature hadn’t developed into a fever. Dee would check again in a few hours.

  Weary beyond words and now depressed as well, she trudged upstairs. The bedroom stood empty, though Dusty’s clothes were neatly folded away. Where had he gone? They needed to talk and she wanted to apologize.

  She got ready for bed and reclined on the soft mattress. He still hadn’t returned and the loneliness crushed her. Dee pulled his pillow to her, holding it as she allowed her eyes to close.

  ~ ~ ~

  The woman in the robe watched her.

  Dee had seen her before, hadn’t she? That beige drape the woman wore . . . She didn’t speak but Dee knew she communicated somehow. The wreck. She’d been there as well, observing. She hadn’t spoken then either. Who was she?

  Waking with a start, Dee’s gaze located the polished regulator clock on the dresser. She hadn’t turned down the lamp. After midnight. Yes, she’d told herself to check on Connie.

  Waking when needed was a skill she’d learned while an intern. Good thing the practice still worked. She glanced over at the other side of the bed. Dusty hadn’t returned.

  Slipping on Mrs. Tillman’s robe, Dee hurried downstairs barefoot, carrying the lamp. Connie slept deeply and still no fever plagued her. Infection had been Dee’s biggest worry. She and Elizabeth would talk tomorrow about antibiotics.

  Now, where was Dusty? Surely he hadn’t left the house. No, his clothes were upstairs.

  Dee tiptoed up the stairs to keep Mrs. Masters from checking on any noise. It was a big house and Dee still hadn’t seen many of the rooms. The middle of the night wasn’t ideal to do some exploring, but Dusty had to be around. Where else could he go?

  The bedroom across from the one they shared stood empty, though Mrs. Masters kept the room as clean as the one they used. The furniture gleamed in the lamplight and the bedding was fluffed and fresh.

  She found Dusty in the second bedroom she checked. A smaller room, but neat, with a single bed and one straight-backed chair. Dusty wasn’t asleep. The gleam from the lamp lit his dark eyes.

  “Did I wake you?” She hadn’t, but she felt an urge to say something, anything.

  “Do you need something?”

  “You didn’t come to bed.” He made no response. Dee came into the room and set the lamp on the dresser. “I’m sorry.”

  “For what?”

  “I upset you with my questions.”

  He shook his head. “No, you were right. We are playing at being married.”

  Dee stepped closer. Dusty didn’t move. One strong arm rested behind his head, the other across his chest. She so wanted to be enfolded in them. “You want to sleep in here.” She didn’t ask a question.

  “I think sleeping here would be best. You should probably lock your door to make sure Miz Masters doesn’t realize we’re not together.”

  She nodded. There was nothing else to say. He remained nearly a stranger except for the physical intimacies they’d shared. She turned and lifted the lamp. Damn it, her hands were shaking and the light wavered. Without a word, she hurried from the room. No way would she let him see her cry.

  ~ ~ ~

  Dusty froze at the sound. Shit, was Dee crying? Damn it all. She was the one who didn’t want to pretend anymore. Hell, like he’d get any sleep now. No need to dwell on the fact he hadn’t been able to fall asleep before her visit either. Dusty had been lying there, thinking about the damn furnishings, anything to keep his mind off the fact Dee was upset.

  God, he didn’t want that.

  Throwing off the comforter, Dusty headed after her. He joined her as she started to lock the door. “May I come in?”

  “You don’t have to.” She turned her back on him but he watched her try to wipe her face. He took the lamp from her.

  “I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he murmured. “I thought this was what you wanted.”

  “I’m scared.”

  “What?” Her statement jarred him.

  “When you’re not here, I’m scared.”

  Dusty gawked at her, astonished. “Scared? Dee, I have seen you sew up skin, do what amounts to back alley surgery since we got here. You’re completely fearless. What are you talking about?”

  Dee gestured wearily. “That’s work. I know what
I’m doing then.”

  What she said explained nothing to him. With no ready answer, Dusty pulled back the sheets and held them for her to climb in.

  “It’s okay. I’ll stay here until you fall asleep.”

  “That’s not what I need.”

  “What do you need? I don’t understand.”

  She turned away from him. “Because we don’t know each other.”

  Sighing, he took a seat on the bed and turned her to face him. “No, we don’t, so I can’t easily pick up clues. You have to tell me what you need.”

  She stared at him for a long moment, then to his utter astonishment she said, “You.”

  ~ ~ ~

  Immediately Dee chastised herself. She shouldn’t have admitted that. She normally wasn’t the needy type, yet nothing was normal right now. Where had she found the courage to admit her fear?

  The memory of the woman in beige came to her for an instant and floated away.

  Then she saw Dusty’s face. She couldn’t quite read his expression, but recognized the wonder there and the shock. He was as thrown as her.

  “Me?” His voice was strangled, stunned.

  “Dusty, I’m not like you.”

  He let his hand caress down her side, over her hip. “I’m glad.”

  Her glare didn’t much faze him.

  “Okay then, how are you different?” Dusty asked.

  “You’re able to accept this.” Dee gestured widely to encompass all they had experienced. “I can’t do that. It never leaves my mind how I’m out of place, time, whatever you want to call it. When I’m with you is the only time I feel right, safe, I don’t know what word to use.”

  “Wait a—”

  She held up her hand to stop his comment. “Okay, during surgery I feel right, but not safe. Not here. I want to reach for things that haven’t been invented yet. And you’re the only one who understands.”

  Dusty eyed her, apparently taking silent stock of her and her words. She grew uncomfortable again. Why didn’t he say something?

  Finally he rasped, “May I sleep in here?”

  She met his soft gaze. “Please.”

  Dusty smiled. Only when he crawled in and spooned around her, did she notice he was naked . . . had walked through the halls, naked. But she wouldn’t call him on it, although Mrs. Masters might’ve gotten an eyeful if she’d peeked out her door.

  “I want to know all there is to know about you, Dee. As long as we’re here, we need to spend some time each evening, learning one another.”

  “I’ll meet you here,” she said.

  “No. In the parlor downstairs.”

  She rolled over to search his eyes.

  “I’ll hear what you say better with clothes on, sitting up. This room has other connotations for me.”

  “What kind of connotations?” She felt the heat rise in her face as soon as she said it. She was flirting with him and she never did that kind of thing. With Dusty, none of her rules seemed to apply. Dee rested her hand on his bare chest, fingers moving to lightly brush his nipple. It budded immediately and she felt his sharp inhale.

  “Are you sure?”

  “This is the only thing I’m sure about, Dusty. I want you. I need you.”

  He cupped her breast and her lashes fluttered in reaction. She knew in the real world even if they’d dated every night since they’d met, she probably wouldn’t have slept with him this soon. Now she couldn’t contemplate sleeping without him in any definition of the word.

  Dee’s hand drifted lower to his sex. Beneath her palm, it stood at full attention. Did she cause this reaction? Could Dusty always want her like this? He’d certainly never disappointed her.

  His cock jerked in her grasp, anxious and ready, but he pulled back a little. “Dee, I don’t want this to be our only connection.”

  She relaxed. This was far from over, now that she knew he had her. All of her. “It’s not. Make love with me, Dusty.”

  He didn’t ask again, their lips meeting, tongues invading, sparring as their hands caressed one another.

  Despite everything, this was the right place for them.

  And the right time.

  Chapter 20

  Elizabeth met them as they came downstairs the next morning. “Connie is doing very well. We walked to the commode this morning. You were right about strengthening her stamina. This is not the way I’ve seen patient care.”

  “I understand. If the patient takes things easy, they’re not going to pull stitches. They can’t go jogging–”

  “Jogging?”

  “Um, running for exercise. It’s not needed here. People walk to the store or school or wherever they need to go. They don’t sit behind desks for their work. People who do sit a lot need some exercise.”

  “Jogging. You know about the strangest things.”

  “Yes, I guess I do. Have you eaten?”

  “I ate at home. I want to bring my notes up to date and check on Connie. I’ll see you shortly.” Elizabeth nodded to Dusty, then returned to Connie’s room.

  “I wonder if I can ask to read her notes. She’s seen a lot of weird things in the last few days.”

  “And is a better nurse for the education she’s gotten. Come eat. I have to get to school.”

  Dee watched, startled, when Mrs. Masters brought a small sack to the table as they were finishing breakfast. “You’ll need lunch today, sir.”

  “Oh. Thank you. This is very nice. Um, I hate to ask, but there’s a boy at school who didn’t have lunch yesterday. I wondered . . .”

  “You’d like some extra. Just a moment.”

  She returned quickly with a second sack. “May I ask who this student is?”

  “Silas Jordan.”

  Her face tightened. “His father drinks.”

  “Is he abusive?”

  The question caused Mrs. Masters to blink. “He is not a good provider.”

  “Does he hit his wife and ki—um, children?”

  “I’m sure I wouldn’t know.”

  Dusty nodded. “A feeling. The boy looks beaten down. I think I’ll have to be careful offering this.”

  He took the sack and smiled broadly at the woman. That couldn’t be a slight blush to her cheeks, could it? Dee turned away rather than chuckle.

  After seeing Dusty off, Dee decided a conversation with Elizabeth should be her priority. It was too late to undo anything she’d already done medically, but she needed a clear idea about what was acceptable now.

  Dee found her with Connie, who sat in the padded chair as Elizabeth changed her bed. “Getting bored yet?” Dee asked Connie.

  “Yes. But I already feel so much better than I did for weeks,” she added hastily as though afraid she’d offended Dee.

  “That’s good to hear. I’ve come to collect Elizabeth for a medical discussion. You’re welcome to join us, though we might be boring too.”

  Connie looked pleased. “I’m sure I won’t understand much but I’d like to listen.”

  “Wonderful.” She helped Elizabeth finish up and the three women settled in the office.

  “I realize some of the things I’ve done since I arrived have been different than the way Doctor Tillman would have done them. I assure you I learned these techniques in medical school and am not some escapee from an asylum.”

  Elizabeth and Connie both laughed. “I recognized a lot of what you’ve done, though you seem more at ease with the techniques.” Elizabeth paused, then admitted, “I learned by doing what Doctor Tillman asked me to do. I have no formal training.”

  “You have instinct. You already know what to do. I’ve observed you. Tillman was right to train you. Did he ever talk about Joseph Lister and sanitation or antibiotics?”

  “He mentioned
the theory. I’m not sure he fully agreed, though he applied sulfur occasionally. He did attempt to keep areas clean where the practice was feasible.”

  Dee took a deep breath. She would have to begin at the beginning and simplify that. “Okay. Sanitation has been proven to assist in the recovery of patients. The tiny organisms living everywhere can get into an open wound or into your lungs and they can make you sick.” This would get complicated fast, so she needed to show them rather than tell. Dee looked over at Elizabeth. “Did Tillman have a microscope?”

  “Oh yes. He was very proud of his equipment. He kept the microscope safely locked away when not in use. I haven’t seen any sign of the thing since you got here.”

  “Miz Masters,” the women spoke together.

  “We need to get the equipment and I’ll show you what I mean.” This could be a productive day.

  Chapter 21

  Dusty wasn’t surprised to see more children in attendance at school the next morning. Word must have spread there was a new and strange teacher substituting while Connie recuperated. Dusty herded them into their newly assigned seats and after everyone settled, perched on the front of his desk.

  “Have any of you heard of clean energy?” He knew they hadn’t and this would be another shift in the time line, but if he taught, he might as well teach something useful for future generations. Who knew how long he and ‘Doc Stevens’ would be stuck here? He’d seen a few cumbersome wooden windmills as he’d walked from the car the first day with the boys. For this era, they weren’t especially innovative. When had the practice disappeared?

  “Do you know where Mister Cutter gets his gasoline to run his new tractor?”

  Several hands flew up to answer his question. All boys, Dusty noted. He called on Charles.