Chapter Twelve
Cluney couldn’t quite believe her eyes. She had almost convinced herself that she was, by some hook or crook, back in the nineteenth century. Then up pops Wooter, making her doubt her own senses. Once again, she felt as if she had blundered into the rehearsal for one of the college plays and she was the only one on stage without a script.
As Mary and Wooter talked a mile a minute and Free stood by silently, Cluney sat back to listen and observe, trying to figure out if she was dreaming or what.
Her gaze roamed the room. If this was a play, the costumes and props were certainly genuine. There stood Mary in her homespun frock and long, muslin apron. Behind her, Free looked the part of a slave in his baggy trousers, much-patched shirt, and ill-fitting boots. But then, Wooter appeared much the same as the other two. He wore washed-out overalls and a red flannel shirt that could have come from either century. Even his gun was as ancient as the hills.
As for the lodge, Cluney knew from experience that it had no electricity, no indoor plumbing, no heat except that provided by the big fireplaces. Even the poorest home in the mountains had some sort of fuel oil heater in the 1990s.
“Little girl?” Wooter’s voice interrupted Cluney’s thoughts. “You and me need to talk a spell. I got a message for you from a friend of yours.”
Cluney sat up, all attention. “Miss Redbird?”
“Nope, a young gal name of B.J.”
Mary Renfro laughed delightedly. “Well, I swan! I figured you two must be acquainted, both of you coming from Baldy Rock. I reckon I was right.” She motioned to Free. “Come on. I need to get some supper going now that I got victuals to cook. And you better go set a spell with the major, give the girl time to catch up on things with Wooter.”
Once Mary and Free had left, Cluney said, “Wooter, how in the world did you get here?”
He snatched a straw out of the broom by the fireplace and chewed at it thoughtfully for a minute, then perching it in the side of his mouth, he said, “Same way as you did. I come over the moonbow.”
“Is that what happened to me? I wasn’t sure how I got here. I wasn’t even sure I really was here.”
“Well, now you know.” He inspected her face closely. “How’s it been for you?”
“Strange and scary at times, but sometimes it’s wonderful.”
He nodded and scratched at his beard. “I reckon Redbird was right, then.”
“Right about what?”
“She vowed and declared you needed to come back here—to have another chance where you started out.”
“Where I started out?” Cluney parroted.
“Yep. I figured you’d of guessed that by now. You was from here all along. But something happened to you awhile back, something dreadful, me and Redbird figure. The only way you could escape was by way of the moon-bow, so you took it. That’s when you wandered up to the Summerland cabin, out of your head.”
“Then I really am Larissa Breckinridge?” Wooter’s words seemed to confirm her suspicions.
“According to Redbird you are. She told me she didn’t want to say nothing while your ma and pa were still living. She was mighty fond of your folks and claimed it would have broke their hearts had you come back sooner.”
“So, this is really the secret she’s been promising to tell me for years.” Cluney thought that over for a few moments, then looked back to Wooter. “But why didn’t she explain everything to me? It would have been so much easier if I’d known my true identity before I came back here.”
He cocked his head and squinted at Cluney. “Would you have believed her?”
“Not a word of it,” Cluney admitted.
“That’s what Redbird figured. You had to come here to believe it was so.”
Cluney sat for several moments, shaking her head in silence.
“That friend of yours is sure stirring things up back yonder,” Wooter said. “I don’t know what’s going to happen next.”
Cluney tried to think how she’d feel if B.J. had disappeared without a trace. “I imagine she is. I wish there were some way I could let her know I’m all right.”
“Well, she almost come right along with me. Had she made it down those steps in time to grab my britches leg, she’d of been standing here right now.”
“She tried to follow you?”
“Damn right! Near about did, too. Come next full moon, I figure she’ll try coming over by herself. She’s stubborn, that one!”
Cluney laughed, but she was aching inside. She truly missed B.J. She wished she were here. Everything would be easier if she could share her feelings with her best friend.
“Is there any way for her to come here?”
Wooter switched his straw to the other side of his mouth, then said, “Nope! Not a way in the world unless she’s needed. Major Breckinridge needed you. Mary Renfro needed me to bring supplies. But who’d need one more poor slave wench over here?”
Cluney bristled. “B.J. Jackson is no slave and never has been! She’s a fine, educated woman—a librarian.”
“You can’t hardly be a librarian ’less you can read,” Wooter countered. “And this day and time—right here, right now—there’s laws against teaching her people their letters. Ole Free can’t read a word. Ask him, if you don’t believe me.”
Cluney’s mind was clicking away, trying to figure out all of this. “So, if B.J. did manage to get over the moon-bow, she’d lose everything she’s worked for all her life. She’d be just like Free—homeless, penniless, just emancipated, but with nothing to gain from that freedom.”
“That’s about the size of it,” Wooter answered. “I done warned her, but I don’t think it took. She’s bullheaded that one. Come right up to my cabin, looking for you. And fed Ma and Pa peppermint candies, mind you. They ’bout went crazy. You know what happens when a ’coon washes a peppermint? My ma and pa’s real neat. They won’t eat nothing till it’s washed down real good. Well, them striped candies melted clean away. My folks didn’t have nothing left but a pan of syrupy pink water. Mad as hell, Pa was!”
Cluney put her hand to her lips to hide a smile, but tears flooded her eyes. What she wouldn’t give to see B.J. and Ma and Pa Crenshaw again! She missed them. She missed everything in the twentieth century.
As if reading her thoughts, Wooter asked quietly, “You gonna make it all right here, little girl?”
Cluney wiped at her tears and shook her head. “I don’t know, Wooter. I just don’t know.”
He leaned down close and looked real hard at her. “What happened to your neck? You got blood on it.”
She put her hand to the place where her necklace had cut her. It felt sticky and tender; her necklace was gone. Quickly, she explained to Wooter about her bearded attacker and how she’d fended him off.
Wooter first frowned, then cackled. “You don’t have to worry no more about that sorry sonuvabitch. I passed him on the road—me coming up and him going down. He was hightailin’ it, I can tell you. Staggering around like a mad dog and whooping fit to kill. I reckon your Mace done a job on him. He won’t be back.”
“Thank God!” Cluney breathed. “I’ve never been so scared in my life.” Suddenly, she stopped and thought. “Yes, I have! I’ve been exactly that frightened before and for the same reason. That’s not the first time that man’s come after me. It was a long time ago, but I remember now.”
“How’d you get away from him the other time?”
She looked Wooter straight in the eye and answered, “I escaped over the moonbow, that’s how. My memory’s coming back, Wooter. It really is!”
“Talk to the major,” Wooter said solemnly. “He’ll help you remember everything.”
“I’m almost afraid to remember,” she admitted.
“There’s no fear like the unknown, little girl. You take my advice, you find out everything you can as quick as you can. Before it’s too late.”
Cluney never got a chance to ask Wooter what he meant by his
final comment. With a quick nod, he turned and headed out the door.
The lodge that evening took on almost a party atmosphere. Delicious smells wafted through the house all afternoon as Mary cooked up ham and corn and squash. She even found the makings for a sweet potato pie. The men who were ambulatory came down to the big kitchen for their meal. But Cluney had other plans in mind.
“Mary, I’d like to take my supper into Hunter’s room and eat with him, if that’s all right with you.”
The last ounce of disapproval had vanished from Mary’s eyes. She smiled at Cluney and patted her arm. “According to what Wooter told me after you two talked, that’s exactly where you belong, Larissa Breckinridge, with your husband.” Then she leaned close and whispered, “When it comes time to dress for bed, you put on the pretty batiste gown that’s in the bottom drawer wrapped in brown paper. I made that myself for my Lorettie’s wedding night. But she never got to use it, poor child. I think she’d like you wearing it for her tonight.”
Cluney leaned over and gave the motherly woman a quick kiss on the cheek. “Thank you, Mary, for everything.”
Mary whacked Cluney’s behind with her big wooden spoon. “Go on with you, now. Don’t you keep that man of yours waiting a minute longer.”
Turning quickly, Cluney snatched her big purse off the wall peg where she’d hung it while she was helping Mary with supper. The strap slipped from her hand and the contents scattered over the board floor. Cluney scrambled to retrieve everything before Mary or any of the others saw the odd assortment of articles she carried around with her and guarded so carefully. She wasn’t sure she could explain about her ballpoint pen or tampons or the package of condoms, and her charge cards would certainly baffle them.
But she wasn’t quick enough. Free, standing nearby, spied a photograph that slipped out of her wallet. He only meant to help her pick up her things, but when he caught sight of B.J.’s photo, he grabbed for it.
“What’s this?” he demanded in a deep, gravelly voice.
“It’s only a picture of a friend of mine. Let me have it, please.”
Free was on his knees, holding the snapshot with his big hands. He was trembling all over and tears ran down his cheeks.
“My Belle,” he murmured. “It’s my Belle.”
“Excuse me?” Cluney said.
He glared at Cluney, accusation in his eyes. “Where’d you get this likeness of my Belle.”
“Free, I’m sorry, but you’re mistaken. That’s a friend of mine named B.J. Jackson.”
“She live around here?” he demanded.
Cluney shook her head. “No. She lives a long way away. Now, please, give it to me.”
Free reluctantly surrendered the photo, but it was clear he was unconvinced by Cluney’s explanation.
“I been missing my Belle for two long years. I mean to find her. I need her something powerful. I do love that woman, Miz Larissa!” He pointed one big finger at B.J.’s face. “And that be her, no doubt about it.”
Cluney didn’t stay to argue any longer. Slinging her bag over her shoulder, she lifted the tray she’d prepared for herself and Hunter and left the kitchen.
When she entered the bedroom, Cluney found Hunter shaved, his hair trimmed, and his face beaming. His color was better than when she had seen him earlier. All in all, he looked like a new man. If only the bandages weren’t there to remind her of his true condition.
“High time you got here!” he scolded good-naturedly. “I was beginning to think you’d forgotten you have a husband.”
Cluney placed the tray on a table near the bed and smiled at him. “You look fine, Hunter. Are you feeling better?”
For the briefest instant, a shadow seemed to pass over his face. Then he chuckled and said, “How could I not be feeling better with you here beside me, Larissa?”
Cluney’s emotions were in true turmoil. More than anything, she longed to keep everything at a surface level and provide Hunter with a pleasant evening. But she had so many questions, so many doubts, and this man who claimed to be her husband seemed to be the only one she could turn to for answers and comfort.
“Hunter, can we talk for a minute before we have supper?”
He nodded, his smile fading at the solemn tone in her voice. “I’d like that,” he answered quietly. “Is something bothering you, darling?”
Cluney sat down on the side of the bed. She shrugged and spread her palms before her in a helpless gesture. Hunter took her hand and held it.
“I don’t even know where to start,” she admitted. “I’ve always felt that I was a very logical person, but what’s happening to me at the moment defies all logic. At times, I doubt my own sanity.”
“You’ve been through a rough time, sweetheart,” Hunter soothed. “It may take you awhile to regain your equilibrium and your memory. But we’re together again now. We can work things out, you and I.”
She gave him a brave smile and gripped his hand in both of hers. “Yes, I believe we can,” she whispered. “And I think my memory is beginning to return, Hunter. I was talking to Wooter Crenshaw, a friend of Mary’s, this afternoon. Something he said sparked a memory—not a very pleasant one, I’m afraid. I remember being chased by a man or men through these woods. I was all alone and I’ve never been so frightened in my life.”
Hunter drew her close and kissed her cheek. “Those aren’t the sort of memories I want you to recall, my love. There are so many beautiful things we shared that I want to tell you about.”
Cluney looked into his dark eyes and felt the impact of his gaze. “I want you to help me remember, Hunter. I want to recall everything we ever did, everything we ever said to each other. I want to love you the same way I used to.”
Hunter’s whisper almost escaped Cluney. He said, “I want you to love me even more than you used to.”
While the new Larissa spread the bedside table for her husband, Hunter watched her closely. He couldn’t guess what had transformed her, but his wife was not the same flighty young woman he had married. Granted, he had won Larissa’s hand, but he had never believed that he had won her heart completely. His brother’s shadow had always loomed between them, larger than ever after Jordan told him of Larissa’s clandestine visit to Broad Acres shortly before their wedding.
Hunter had hoped that in time he could make Larissa love him completely, with all her heart. But there had been no time after their marriage to induce that miracle, if indeed such a feat was even possible. And Hunter realized now that he had behaved badly and handled his wife all wrong from the moment they were married. All she had ever needed was to be truly loved. Certainly, he loved her, but had he ever bothered to show her just how much? Had he allowed his jealousy to disrupt their love even after their marriage?
Now, miracle of miracles, Larissa seemed to have forgotten Jordan entirely. Could Hunter find it in his heart to forgive and forget his brother’s transgressions as well? Could he possibly hope to claim Larissa’s love for his own at long last?
She was talking to him, saying that she hoped he liked ham and squash and sweet potato pie. Didn’t she realize that none of that mattered—that supper was only an unavoidable interruption on this night of nights?
“A feast,” she called it. A feast was what he wanted, all right. He longed to feast his eyes on her beautiful, pale body. And once he had her beside him, he would let his mouth feast at her lips and her breasts. His hands ached with his need to touch her warm, soft flesh. He wanted to hear her voice in the darkness, begging for him as she sighed and moaned at his tender caresses. Such was his hunger, and such would be his feast.
“Aren’t you hungry, Hunter?”
“Oh, yes!” he said in a voice, raspy with emotion. “I am truly starved!”
How tenderly she ministered to his every need. She fed him slowly, carefully, dabbing at his mouth with a napkin. She talked, she laughed, she smiled into his eyes. He would have eaten his supper with greater haste, but she seemed to be dr
awing it out, urging his hunger for her to grow ever stronger.
Finally, he cleaned his plate. He watched, fascinated, as Larissa tidied up—something she would never have dreamed of doing in the old days. “What are servants for?” she would have said.
She rose from the bed, tray in hand. “I’ll just take this to the kitchen now.”
“But you’ll be back, won’t you?”
She smiled at his urgent tone. “Oh, yes, Hunter. I’ll be back.”
Before she left the room, she pulled out the bottom drawer of the chest and removed something wrapped in brown paper. Placing it on the chair beside the bed, she turned and smiled at him. “I’ll definitely be back!”
Once she was gone, Hunter reached over and opened the brown paper. Inside, he found a dainty nightie—all white and soft and pure.
“Ah, Larissa!” he said with a sigh. “If it weren’t for the pain in my shoulder and the deeper pain in my groin, I’d swear I’d died and gone to heaven.”
True to her word, Larissa slipped back into the room only minutes later. She seemed nervous and uncertain suddenly.
“Do you still want me to stay with you tonight?”
“Need you ask?” he answered with invitation heavy in his voice. “You know I do, darling.”
She nodded, unsmiling, looking as jittery as a bride. “Then I’ll just slip behind the curtain and change. I won’t be long.”
It was dark outside and only a single candle guttered on the bedside table. The room was cloaked in shadows. But still Cluney felt the need to change somewhere beyond Hunter’s gaze. Quickly, she eased behind the tattered drape that cordoned off one corner of the room for privacy. As she slipped on Lorettie’s gown, she could almost feel Hunter’s eyes on the burlap curtain.
Even though she had bathed that afternoon, she took time to pour water from the ironstone pitcher into the bowl and wipe herself all over once again. Then she splashed on some lilac water Mary had given her. She was stalling for time and she knew it. But suddenly she felt so afraid. Hunter might claim to be her husband, but to Cluney he was still a virtual stranger.
Once Upon Forever Page 18