Cluney wanted desperately to say, “The same way that she married my husband.” But it was late, and explanations would take too long. Another time.
“Maybe my necklace only looks like the one she was wearing, darling.” She went up on tiptoe to kiss him one last time. “Good night, my love. I’ll see you at Bluefield.”
“Home!” He smiled at her, and Cluney could have sworn he had tears in his eyes. “Our home, my love, forevermore!
She slipped silently into her room and closed her door before she let her own happy tears flow.
Dawn came early, and with it came Andrea Layton.
“Rise and shine, my dear! Our chariot awaits without!”
The plan was for Andrea to speed the bride off to Bluefield by limo, where Cluney would dress in the reproduction of Larissa’s wedding gown and prepare for her wedding. Jeff got to sleep in and get ready for the big event at a more leisurely pace.
The first hour after dawn was a blur to Cluney. She felt as if her head had barely touched the pillow before Andrea rousted her out. Dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt, sunglasses covering her unmade eyes, Cluney climbed into Pierce’s chariot and accepted a Bloody Mary from her cheery, perky, fully made-up mother-in-law-to-be.
“Wasn’t the party last night simply delicious, darling!” Andrea enthused. Then she proceeded to tell Cluney all the gossip she’d heard about everyone there from everyone else who was there.
“However,” Andrea said, frowning, “I’m still stymied by that strange little mountain man, Wooter Something-or-other. Are his parents truly still alive? He seemed rather put out with me, I’m afraid, because I didn’t invite them. But how was I to know? You should have put them on your list, dear.”
Cluney choked on her Bloody Mary, picturing the pair of raccoons racing about at last night’s fancy do, trying to wash their caviar in the champagne fountain. When she could get her breath, she said with a straight face. “I really didn’t want to invite them, Andrea. They don’t behave well in public.”
“Oh!” she said. “Oh, yes, I know how old people get—spilling drinks, dribbling food, telling the same stories over and over. You were probably right not to include them, Cluney.”
Just then, Pierce rolled to a stop in the circular drive at the front door of Bluefield.
Andrea turned serious suddenly. A tear even slipped down her cheek, marring her perfect makeup. She pressed a hand to her breasts and took a deep breath.
“You’ll have to excuse me, Cluney,” she said with a sniff. “I’m afraid it’s just hit me that my baby boy is about to be married. Such an occasion is a bit frightening for a mother.”
Cluney smiled and touched Andrea’s hand. “It’s frightening for the bride, too. But I think we’ll both survive it happily, Andrea.”
Jeff was awake long before his mother whisked Cluney away. Actually, he’d hardly slept all night. After seeing Cluney to her room, he’d gone to bed, falling asleep immediately. But then the dream had begun. It was the oddest damn thing! Actually, it had been more like a visitation from the spirit world than any dream he’d ever had.
“Major Hunter Breckinridge,” he said aloud to his image in the mirror as he shaved. “Was he here, or did I only imagine the whole thing?”
He wiped the last of the shaving cream from his smooth, square jaw and reached to pour himself another cup of coffee—his fourth since dawn. He couldn’t seem to stop shaking.
“Wedding jitters!” he said with a laugh, but he knew he was lying to himself.
He was shaking still from the strange experience he’d had during the night. The dream had begun with him in the parlor at Bluefield, staring at the major’s portrait. Suddenly, the picture changed and he was gazing at an image of himself. Next, it spoke to him.
“You’ve done well,” the portrait said. “You’re bringing Larissa home at last. I’ve needed her here. I can rest now.”
Before Jeff could reply, the figure had stepped from his frame. He advanced on Jeff, staring him right in the eye.
“What the hell is this?” Jeff remembered saying. “Get back up there where you belong.”
“I am where I belong,” the spirit, ghost, or paint-and-canvas had told him. “I’m here at Bluefield, my home, and I am part of you and you are part of me.”
Jeff had backed away from the apparition, not sure how to react. Should he be afraid? He didn’t feel fear, only confusion.
“How can you be a part of me?” Jeff had demanded.
“She has made it so. We wanted a second chance. You have given it to us, and for that we both thank you.”
“Who are you talking about? This is outrageous!”
“No, this is love,” the specter answered. “And you know who I mean. She is our wife, the love of both our lives.”
They had argued and discussed on and on. Much of what had been said was lost to Jeff now. But his fatigue told him that the confrontation had been genuine.
Suddenly, he remembered the ghost’s parting words and gesture. He had handed Jeff a book. It had seemed very real at the time. Jeff remembered nipping through the pages and seeing handwritten entries.
“My wedding gift to her,” the major said. “Give it to her, but tell her you found it in the house. Don’t mention that I was here; it would only upset her, and I won’t come again. Be gentle with her. And no matter what she tells you, try to understand. She’ll need your understanding and your love.”
Jeff drained the last of the coffee from his cup, then slammed it down on the sink so hard that the thin china broke.
“That book!” he said. “If last night was real, it will still be here.”
He hurried into the bedroom, searching as he went. The bureau, the bedside table, the closet, the floor.
“Nothing!” he said at last, feeling relieved. “I imagined the whole thing.”
When he sat down on the bed, something crunched under the covers. He nipped back the spread. There it was—an old journal of some sort, its leather cover badly stained with water and blood.
“Damn!” he said, staring at the thing. “What the hell kind of wedding gift will that make for my bride? Cluney will think I’ve gone nuts. I’m not giving it to her and that’s that!”
But before he left for Bluefield, Jeff found himself wrapping Hunter’s diary in silver paper left from a gift they’d received the night before. It was as if some other force moved his hands. He could no more have left the diary in his hotel room than he could have stayed there himself and missed his own wedding.
Dressed in Hunter Breckinridge’s Union army uniform, which had been altered to fit his slightly larger frame, and with the journal wrapped and under his arm, Jeff left the hotel, headed for Bluefield and his bride. Headed, although he never guessed it, to play out a hand fate had dealt long ago.
Chapter Nineteen
Dressed in a perfect copy of Larissa’s shimmering white gown and long mistlike veil, Cluney waited on the landing at the top of the stairs for her signal to start down. Nervously, she toyed with the moonstone at her throat. Her talisman warmed at her touch and seemed to send out tiny vibrations, giving her strength and courage.
She was feeling truly odd this morning, as if she weren’t sure which time period she was in. One moment, she knew that she was Cluney Summerland and that Jeff Layton was downstairs waiting to make her his bride. Then in the next instant, she’d feel Larissa’s presence and wonder if she might find Hunter there when she descended the long stairway.
“Are you okay, girl?” B.J. hovering at her side, adjusting her veil, sensed that the bride had a bad case of jitters.
Cluney looked at her matron of honor, absolutely glowing in her satin gown of forsythia-yellow. “You’re going to make a great mother, B.J. But do you have to practice on me? I’m fine! And I’m Cluney!”
“Say what?” B.J. demanded. “I hope to say, you’re Cluney! If not, then I’m at the wrong wedding, girl.”
Cluney tried to l
augh off her statement. “It’s just that I feel strange. Everything is so familiar. Everything is just like it was before. I keep thinking that maybe I’ve slipped back in time and I’m actually Larissa again and Hunter’s waiting for me downstairs and I’m going to blow the whole thing again.”
B.J. knew Cluney’s whole story and decided it might be a good idea at this moment to remind her of her origins. “You are Larissa, girl! Don’t you remember? You were born Larissa. You only became Cluney after you crossed the moonbow the first time. So, it’s not odd that you feel like Larissa. The odd thing would be if you didn’t. But that doesn’t make any difference now. You’re about to marry Jeff Layton, the man you love. And you’re both going to be happy.”
“Thanks, B.J. I know all that, but it helps to hear someone else say it.”
Just then the music began, the matron of honor’s cue.
B.J. gave Cluney a quick hug, then said, “See you downstairs, Cluney. Good luck, girlfriend!”
Wooter suddenly appeared at Cluney’s side, ready to escort her down. Cluney thought to herself that he cleaned up real nice. Andrea had seen to it that he was perfectly groomed and outfitted for the occasion. Jeff’s mother had balked at first when Cluney said she wanted him to play the part of father of the bride, but Cluney had stood firm. After all, if it weren’t for Wooter, no wedding would be taking place today.
“Smile, little girl,” the old man ordered. “This day’s been a long time comin’, and it ain’t no place for long faces.”
Cluney beamed down at her escort as they began their long descent of the staircase. Below, as she had expected, the bride saw the glamorous array of guests Andrea had invited to witness the marriage ceremony. Oddly enough, it came as no surprise for her to see several movie stars, directors, and producers among the guests. The shock came when she spied the groom.
Andrea had decided to keep Jeff s costume a secret until the very moment that his bride entered the parlor. Her surprise nearly cost her a daughter-in-law. Spying the old Civil War uniform, in her present frame of mind, Cluney assumed Hunter Breckinridge was waiting for her at the altar. She all but fainted. Only Wooter’s strong arm and steady, commanding voice kept her on her feet.
“Don’t give out on me now, little girl. We got a ways to go yet,” he urged in a husky whisper.
Somehow, Cluney made it into the parlor to stand beside her groom. At the moment Jeff took her hand, all else faded from her mind. His presence, his touch, and his love were the only things that mattered to her in the whole world.
She smiled up at him through a mist of happy tears. They spoke their vows in voices trembling with emotion. When he took her into his arms to kiss his wife for the very first time, Cluney thought she had never felt such love flow between two people.
Jeff clung to her afterward for a moment, whispering into her ear, “Darling, this all seems like a dream. I feel as if I’ve loved you since the beginning of time.”
“And we’ll keep on loving each other,” she whispered in response, “until the end of time and beyond.”
The magical spell was broken when Andrea rushed forward to hug them both. The poised beauty was sobbing with happiness—embracing them, kissing them, showering them with her generous affection.
The rest of that fine, golden spring day passed in a blur for Cluney. She seemed to be slipping back and forth between the present and the past. One minute, she would be talking to Andrea, then the next moment, Larissa would be talking to her mother-in-law, Mrs. Breckinridge. The guests’ clothes would change before her eyes. The conversation among the guests would be of jockey Pat Day’s first win in the Run For The Roses earlier in the month, then flow without pause to talk of the Civil War. Only Jeff remained the same. She knew at all times who he was and how very much she loved him.
Not long after sunset, the last of the guests departed. Andrea lingered only a short time, then left, after more hugs and kisses, to have Pierce drive her back to her hotel.
Cluney and Jeff stood on the veranda, waving goodbye as the limo roared down the drive. When it disappeared beyond the trees, Jeff turned to his wife and slipped his arms around her.
“At last!” he said with a sigh. “I have you all to myself, sweetheart.”
Cluney snuggled against him, smiling. “It was a wonderful wedding, thanks to Andrea’s planning.”
“Hey, Mom’s not the only Layton who knows how to plan things. Wait till you see what her son’s planned for your wedding night.”
“Tell me,” Cluney begged.
Jeff swept her up in his arms. “I’d rather show you, sweetheart.”
He carried her all the way to Hunter’s room—their room now. Waiting there, he had champagne on ice, cold lobster, and a wedding gift wrapped in silver paper.
“Another present, darling?”
Jeff shrugged. “Just a little something I thought you might find interesting. You can open it later. Come here, wife!”
Gift along with food and drink were soon forgotten. Jeff set Cluney on her feet, then pulled her immediately into his arms. His kiss was deep and sweet and thorough. Cluney came out of it trembling and wishing she were wearing far fewer clothes.
“Excuse me, darling,” she whispered. “I think I’ll change now.”
She slipped into the newly added bathroom, then reappeared moments later in a gown and negligee of sheer, snowy lace. Jeff gave a low whistle when she posed sexily against the door frame for him.
“You look good enough to eat, sweetheart.”
She gave him a heavy-lidded look. “You’re not so bad yourself. Red silk pajamas, eh? Three guesses who picked those out for you.”
“If you don’t like them, I’ll take them off.”
“Why don’t you do that?” Cluney invited.
Jeff made a silly, sexy show of stripping for his bride. Once he’d slowly unbuttoned the top, done a few bumps and grinds, then tossed the hot-red silk at her, Cluney slunk toward him, a mischievous grin on her face. She paused at the vanity to take something from her purse. A moment later, she stood before him, gazing sensually up into his eyes. She ran her hands over his bare chest, nipped at his shoulder, then tucked a dollar bill into the waist of his pajama bottoms.
“There’s more where that came from, if you take it all off, big boy!”
Instead of dropping his bottoms, Jeff gripped the lace at Cluney’s shoulders and slid her negligee off. Next, he slipped one nightgown strap down. And then the other. When she, too, was bare to the waist, he drew her close, letting their hearts beat together. Her nipples puckered against the heat of his bare chest.
Cluney’s head fell back. “Ah, that feels good,” she moaned.
Moments later, their nightclothes lay tangled on the floor as the old bed ropes sang a song of love.
Cluney forgot everything else. It was her wedding night. She was lying with her husband for the first time. She must not—now or ever—disappoint him. She had learned long ago, that she would find her pleasure through pleasing her man. She meant to do just that. She meant to go on pleasing him forever.
She kissed him and stroked him and licked him until he thrashed in the bed, moaning her name. As she sensed his desire building to the point of no return, hers flamed as well. When he covered her at last, their love was like nothing she had ever experienced in this lifetime or any other. It was as if the universe flowed into her and all through her. The ecstasy seemed to last on and on. They kissed and touched and clung to each other, sighing with happiness, crying for the sheer joy of that one perfect moment.
By the time it was over, a clock somewhere in the house was striking midnight. Cluney lay back on her pillow, her breasts heaving, her whole body limp with blissful exhaustion.
Jeff murmured several times, “Never anything so good! Never, never, never! I love you, Cluney, so much!” Then he slipped off to sleep.
Cluney lay very still, not wanting to disturb her husband. She thought she would drift off, too, but h
er mind was awake and alert. Suddenly, she remembered the gift, still wrapped in its silver paper. She slipped out of bed.
“I wonder what it could be?” she said quietly.
She ripped the paper, and a moment later stood speechless, staring down at Hunter’s journal. She glanced toward the bed. “Oh, thank you, my darling.”
Quickly, she pulled on her gown and negligee, then tiptoed to the adjoining sitting room. She switched on a light and settled in a comfortable chair.
Trembling all over, she turned the pages, hoping against hope that she would find the answer to the questions that had plagued her these past months. Quickly, she located the entry from the night she crossed the moonbow. On the next page, a new passage began.
“To my darling wife, Larissa. It is November now and you have been gone for nearly a month. The night you went away, I was sure I would die without you. I knew sorrow that is as deep as my love for you. I wanted to die. I begged to die. But Mary Renfro is a pillar of strength. She insisted I take the medicine you left for me. She bullied, cajoled, and threatened until I had no option but to fight back. And fight I did—I fought for life. You see, my darling, I’ve come to understand something. The fact that you are not with me does nothing to diminish our love for each other. We live on in each other’s hearts as we always shall. A love as strong as ours can never die. And someday, perhaps I will find a way to return to you. Believe me, I will try.
“I am getting well, my daring. And for the first time in months, I look forward to my life ahead. I mean to go back to Bluefield and set it in order. If you do manage somehow to return to me, I want you to find our home just as you left it. I will be waiting there with open arms, a brimming heart, and more love than has ever been lavished on any one woman. But then, there was never another woman like my Larissa.”
Cluney had to stop reading. She couldn’t see Hunter’s words for the tears in her eyes. What a dear, dear man he had been! Still was! she reminded herself, glancing toward the bed at her husband’s sleeping form.
Once Upon Forever Page 28