Thoroughly Modern Amanda

by Susan Macatee

  As she peered around the corner, she gasped at the sight of a man sprawled across the floor. Dressed in shirtsleeves and work britches, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, he must be a workman.

  “Hello,” she called, unsure of what to do. She shouldn’t be here, after all, but she couldn’t just leave the poor man. What if he were dead?

  Her hand rose to her throat at the thought. She took a deep breath and strode forward, but a creak in the floor stopped her. If the floor wasn’t finished, she risked the chance of falling through to the floor below.

  She tested the floor inside the room with one foot and then the other. The man lay sprawled on his stomach, a large beam beside him. She lifted her skirts to step over the beam and knelt at the man’s side, feeling his neck for a pulse.

  A steady beat throbbed under her fingers. She breathed a sigh of relief.

  Now, what do I do?

  Blood matted the man’s short, sandy-colored hair. Likely a blow from the beam. She touched the spot gently, noting a raised knot. His face lay turned to the side. She glanced around the room for something she could use to stanch the flow of blood. Her gaze alighted on a rag near him. After grabbing it, she pressed it against his head. If she turned him onto his side, she could check for other injuries and help him breathe more easily.

  Using all her strength, she pushed him over and tilted her ear toward his mouth. Shallow breaths lifted his broad chest that rose and fell with regularity. If only she could wake him.

  Sandy lashes brushed against his cheek. The urge to run her hand over his firm, clean-shaven jaw caused her cheeks to heat.

  She’d have to leave him and find help.

  As she rose to go, an ever-so-slight sound drew her attention. His eyes fluttered open.

  Chapter Three

  Jack blinked. Blinding pain in the back of his head nearly caused him to pass out again. The last thing he recalled was a beam blindsiding him.

  “Sir?” a female voice cooed. “What’s happened? Did the beam hit you?”

  He tried to focus on a face hovering above him. “Yeah, the beam hit me. It must have knocked me out.” He lifted his arm, intending to probe his aching head.

  “Don’t move,” the woman said. “I have a rag covering the gash. You need a doctor, I think.”

  He gazed at the woman. With her red-gold hair piled on her head and her old-fashioned looking gown, she didn’t seem real. Like something out of a crazy dream. If her face wasn’t so smooth and youthful, he’d believe he was back at Mrs. Grayson’s house, but the old woman was dead, and she’d never dressed like this.

  “Where am I?” he groaned. A flash of pain shot through his skull.

  The woman’s blue eyes widened. “You don’t know where you are? The beam must have taken your memory.” She glanced around. “This house is under construction. You’re obviously one of the workmen hired to build it.”

  “Under construction?” A new wave of pain pierced his skull. “No. This house is going to be torn down.”

  “Shh.” She placed a finger over his lips. “You must have had a memory lapse.”

  Her soft touch and scent enveloped him. Something seemed familiar about her, but he wasn’t sure what. He tried to rise, but she pushed him back.

  “Don’t try to get up. I’ll go for help.”

  “No.” He rubbed his head. “I think I can sit up with your assistance.” Pushing onto his elbows, he gazed around the room. His heart dropped as he realized this wasn’t the dilapidated house he’d been exploring. The scent of fresh cut wood and unfinished walls chilled him.

  “You say this house is under construction?” He made an effort to sit up straight.

  She moved to brace his back. “You mustn’t move so quickly. You could aggravate your injury.”

  “This doesn’t make any sense.” He reached for the towel she’d placed against the back of his head. The rag slid down his back.

  She retrieved it, then gently probed his head.

  He winced at the pain.

  Her gaze met his. “It doesn’t look so bad now. The bleeding’s stopped, but you will need someone to look after you. I’ll contact your family.”

  “There’s no need. I can drive. Just help me to my car. It’s parked outside.”

  “Car?” She bit her lip, drawing his attention to her full, ripe mouth. “You mean carriage? I saw no carriage outside.”

  “No, I mean a car. It’s a dark green four-door.”

  “I saw no carriage as you describe.” She wrung her hands glancing toward the open doorway. “I’ll go find help.”

  His hand shot out to stop her. He didn’t want her to go, even to get help. If he was able to stand…

  “Help me up,” he said.

  She frowned but grasped his hand. Pushing up on his legs with her assistance at his side, he stood. But his equilibrium seemed off. She braced her weight against his.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to stay here? I’ll find a neighbor to help you to go…” She hesitated. “Where do you want to go?”

  “Home, but I need my car to get there.” His hand dropped to his pocket to search for his wallet, but a strap and two buttons on his waistband diverted his attention. He wore a pair of suspenders, a loose fitting shirt with four buttons reaching from his mid-chest area to his collar, and baggy wool pants. These weren’t the clothes he’d been wearing when he’d explored the house.

  What the hell?

  His alarmed gaze drifted down to the woman who still supported his weight. The clothes he wore matched the period of her gown. And the condition of the house, compared to the dilapidated building he’d been in, set his brain awhirl.

  “Where in hell am I?” he gasped.

  The woman’s eyes widened as she gazed openmouthed at him. “Please let me get you help, sir.”

  “Not until I see my car,” he growled. “Get me down the stairs.”

  Between his spinning head and the knowledge that something was very wrong, he had difficulty descending the steps. For one thing, the stairway had no railing. He pressed a hand against the wall, the woman on his other side, but he feared knocking her over the edge.

  He inched his way down and breathed a sigh of relief when they reached bottom.

  “Please, sir, sit here on the bottom step for at least a moment to catch your breath. I’d hate to see you start bleeding again or pass out.”

  He did as she bid, cradling his face in his hands. His head still spun, and he wasn’t sure he could make it home after all. Maybe he should have her call an ambulance.

  Her footsteps sounded hollow on the unfinished wood floor as she paced. He lifted his gaze to study her. Her skirts nearly touched the freshly sanded floor as she braced her hands on either side of her hips. Her brow furrowed, lips twisted into an expression of anxiety.

  “I’m sorry,” he said.

  She turned and faced him. “Sorry?”

  “For putting you to all this trouble.” He realized he didn’t even know his rescuer’s name. “I’m Jack Lawton, by the way, and you are…?”

  She pursed her full lips. “Miss Montgomery.”

  “You don’t have a first name?” he asked.

  “Sir, we are strangers to one another.” Her face reddened.

  “But I gave you my first name.” He spread his hands.

  She propped her hands on her hips. “My father would have a conniption fit if I gave my Christian name to a strange man. On the other hand, my stepmother…” Her lips curved into the hint of a smile. “…always introduces herself by her first name to the consternation of my father.” She lifted her chin as if appraising Jack. “I’m Amanda.”

  Jack smiled but winced as a shot of pain sliced through his skull. “Amanda Montgomery. I’ll be sure to remember that name.” He lifted his hand. “Now, if you could assist me to the front door.”

  She stretched her arm down toward him, and he used the wall to hoist himself so he wouldn’t put all his weight on her.

  A brief wave of dizziness halte
d his progress, but he steadied himself. “Lead on.”

  By the time they reached the door, he realized how eerily familiar this house looked. Almost as if the house he’d been in had traveled back in time. Could the new owner have changed his mind and decided to rebuild the place?

  Amanda threw open the door.

  Jack’s mouth gaped. Not only was his car gone, but the entire block was transformed. What had been a paved walk and blacktop street was now packed dirt.

  Heat rose to his cheeks. “Where’s my car? Did they tow it away to tear up the street?” He couldn’t have been unconscious long enough.

  “I don’t know what you mean.” Amanda’s gaze scanned the road.

  Jack froze in the doorway, not sure what to do. This was insane. He had no car, no cell phone, or ID. If he made it to his house, would it even be there? For one chilling moment, he wasn’t sure.

  Amanda glanced at him, then back at the road, not saying anything for a long moment. “Mr. Lawton, if you’re able to walk a short distance, I’ll take you to my home. My stepmother may know how to help you.”

  “Stepmother?” Jack chewed his lower lip. “And it’s Jack, not Mr. Lawton.”

  Amanda grinned and grasped his arm. Her warmth and scent comforted him. “I’ll not call you Jack in front of my parents. At least not my father.” She lifted her chin. “And you must call me Miss Montgomery around him.”

  “Okay.” He stepped across the porch following Amanda’s lead. For now, he’d stick close to her until he found out what the hell was going on.

  ****

  Amanda supported the workman, Jack, as they made their way to her home. She gulped as a carriage drove down the road, fearing Randolph’s presence. The last thing she needed was to have him spy her leading a strange man to her home.

  But she couldn’t just leave him here. He was hurt and seemed disoriented. And his mention of a car brought back memories of her stepmother’s stories. Stories of the future. She’d take him to Erin and see if she could make sense of this.

  He seemed a bit wobbly, but fortunately, not many people were out and about this time of day. The few who were, openly stared, but at Amanda’s nod, they inclined their heads and continued on their way.

  She blew out a sigh of relief when they reached her front stoop. Jack lifted his gaze, then grimaced. Apparently his head still pained him, but he made no sound of protest as she led him through the door.

  Her father and brother would be at the bank at this hour, but her stepmother might be in. As they entered the foyer, silence yawned from the hall. If home, she’d likely find Erin in the kitchen.

  She led Jack to one of the chairs by the staircase. “Sit here a minute. I’ll open the parlor doors so you can lie on the settee, then I’ll find my stepmother.”

  He sat with a thump, his tanned, work-roughened hand reaching for his head.

  “Does it still hurt?”

  He nodded. “A little. You have any ibuprofen by any chance?”

  She frowned. “Ibu…I’m not sure what you mean.”

  He heaved a heavy sigh and sank his face into both hands.

  “Just a minute. I’ll get you into the parlor.”

  She flung open the doors and found the parlor empty, as she’d expected. The room was hardly used, except for those rare occasions when a family member entertained guests. But Mrs. O’Leary had cleaned the small room yesterday, so there shouldn’t be any dust. She ran her hand over the settee by the fireplace to be sure.

  Turning back to the hall, she strode over to Jack. He peered up at her, his eyes bleary. She lifted her hand, and he settled his over hers. His firm, strong grip sent a tingle through her fingers. What would it feel like to have those hands roving over her body? Her face heated at the thought.

  She led him to the settee and settled him supine, although his long legs dangled onto the floor. His gaze drifted over the room.

  “A lot of stuff in here,” he said.

  “It’s a parlor,” she explained.

  He frowned, but said nothing more.

  “Now you stay put.” She propped a pillow behind his head. “I’ll see if my stepmother’s home.”

  After a final glance to be sure Jack didn’t try to get up, Amanda slipped down the hall and pushed open the kitchen door. Erin sat at the table, furiously scribbling on a pad of paper. A strand of red-gold hair had slipped out of her bun, and the tip of her tongue touched her upper lip. She glanced up at Amanda, her blue eyes wide.

  “Amanda, I thought I heard someone come in.” She glanced toward the clock set on the pantry. “Too early for your father, anyway.” She sighed. “I guess I was really in the zone.”

  Amanda frowned and shook her head. Since her earliest memories, her stepmother had always uttered strange expressions. Neighbors thought Erin eccentric, but she got along with them all.

  “Mother, I need your help,” Amanda said.

  Erin’s brow lifted. “What’s wrong?” She set her pad aside and rose.

  “I found an injured man.” Amanda licked her lips. “He’s in our parlor.”

  “Our parlor?” Erin stepped to the door. “Where did you find him?”

  Amanda followed Erin before she could reach the parlor. “I’ll explain it all later, but he needs help now. He has a head injury.”

  Erin glanced back, a frown furrowing her brow. “I’ll take a look.”

  Amanda followed Erin into the parlor, noting Jack still half-reclined, but he looked like he’d tried to sit up. His eyes widened at the sight of her stepmother as she strode to his side.

  “Sir,” she said. “My daughter told me you have a head injury.”

  “Yeah,” he answered. “Seems a beam connected with my head.”

  Erin glanced back at Amanda, then at Jack. “You’re a workman?”

  He nodded but winced. “I work for a contractor.”

  Erin’s lips pursed. “No one was with you when this happened?”

  “Ah, no.” He grimaced. “The house I was inspecting had just been sold, but it was in a very dilapidated condition. It was scheduled to be demolished. So, I wasn’t actually working. I was there on my own.”

  “I see.” Erin turned back to Amanda. “Could you get me a basin and a rag…oh, and some rubbing alcohol? I’d like to take a look at his injury, and it seems he needs a bit of cleaning up.”

  “Of course, Mother.” She wondered if Erin was dismissing her so she could talk to Jack in private, but the blood crusting the back of his head did need attending. She retreated to the kitchen to gather the supplies.

  She returned quickly and pushed the door open.

  Erin sat on the edge of the settee beside Jack. “You woke up in the unfinished house?” Erin was saying.

  “Yeah. Then I saw your daughter hovering over me.”

  Amanda drew a breath, not sure whether to enter or try to hear more. Before she made up her mind, both their gazes locked on hers, and they withdrew into silence. She had no choice but to enter the room.

  She approached them and set the basin with clean water on the table, then handed the rag and alcohol to her stepmother. Erin and Jack exchanged a quick glance, then both focused on Amanda.

  “Thanks,” Erin said. “If you could turn on your side, Jack?”

  Amanda noted her stepmother’s use of his Christian name instead of calling him Mr. Lawton.

  “This is going to hurt a bit,” Erin said. “I’m sorry.”

  “No problem,” Jack replied.

  Amanda bit her lip at the language exchange. Jack seemed to speak in the same unique pattern her stepmother occasionally did.

  Erin dipped and wrung out the rag to clean some of the matted blood from Jack’s hair, then poured alcohol on the cloth. “You ready?”

  “Ready as I’ll ever be.” His gaze rose to Amanda, and he winked.

  Heat rose to her face, and her belly tingled with delight. Although he was a virtual stranger, she felt an instant attraction as well as trust for this man. Of course, her father would ne
ver approve of her allowing a common working man to court her.

  “Amanda…” Erin glanced toward Jack. “Mr. Lawton will be staying with us for a little while.” Her gaze lifted. “Could you prepare Billy’s bed for him? We’ll find another place for Billy to sleep temporarily.”

  Amanda’s mouth gaped. Her stepmother was giving this stranger her brother’s room? She bit her tongue and nodded. “Yes, Mother. I’ll do it now.”

  “Hold on.” Jack raised his hand. “I don’t want to put anybody out.” He frowned at Erin.

  Her stepmother reached out and grasped Jack’s hand. “You must stay.” Her gaze rose to Amanda, and she shrugged. “At least until he recovers. We’d have it no other way.”

  Amanda glanced from Erin to Jack, then gathered her skirts and headed for the stairs. She had the distinct feeling her stepmother knew more than she was telling about Jack.

  Chapter Four

  Jack crept up the stairs in the darkened house. At the top lay a hall with a maze of closed doors. He tried each one, but none opened. He grasped the knob of the last door and turned. The door creaked inward to reveal two women in Victorian dress. As he stepped toward them, their flesh melted off to reveal a pair of skeletons.

  He leaped back and nearly rolled off the mattress.

  His head hurt like hell as he tried to get his bearings in an unfamiliar, half-darkened room. He’d obviously been dreaming, but where was he now?

  The memory returned in a flash. He drew up an image of Amanda and her stepmother caring for him in their parlor. Afterward, he must have passed out. He did have a vague memory of being carried somewhere. The women couldn’t have brought him to this room, but they did mention Erin’s husband and Amanda’s brother.

  A knock at the door startled him. He half sat up and stared at the closed door.

  “Yes,” he rasped.

  “Mr. Montgomery,” a male voice with a Southern drawl replied. “I’d like to speak to you, if I may?”

  Jack swallowed. “Come in,” he managed.

  A tall man with dark brown hair entered the room. He wore a waistcoat and suspenders, and carried a lantern.