Thoroughly Modern Amanda

by Susan Macatee

  “An undergarment women wear in my time to keep their breasts harnessed.”

  “Harnessed?” She laughed.

  “Amanda, I don’t know if we should go any further.”

  She lifted her skirts to reveal her ankles and calves. “Please, Jack, I’m so afraid of losing you.”

  “But I can’t take the chance.”

  “I told you I’ll accept any babe you leave me with. At least I’ll have a part of you with me if you go.”

  He shook his head. “No. I don’t think…” He bit his lip, then smiled. “Wait, there is a way.”

  She frowned. He climbed over her, capturing her lips. “I can pleasure you without taking the chance of leaving you pregnant. I should have thought of this before.”

  He pushed her petticoats away and lowered his face between her legs. Parting the white cotton drawers, he exposed her white skin. He stroked her inner thigh until she shivered.

  “Oh, Jack.” Her breathy voice quivered. “What are you doing down there?”

  “You’ll see.” He blew lightly on her inner folds until she gasped. “Jack, I’ve never felt anything like that before.”

  “There’s more.” Inserting a finger into her, he twirled the soft, wet folds. She was definitely up to the task.

  Her fingers worked into his hair. “Jack, I don’t think you should…”

  “Don’t worry. You’ll like this.”

  She lay back, breathing heavily.

  ****

  Amanda had never felt such a wondrous thing in her life. What Jack did to her woman parts seemed scandalous, especially considering they weren’t wed and were hiding among the trees. What if someone caught them?

  She bit her lip as his finger probed her nether regions. Then a gentle breeze sent delicious shivers to her core. Was it Jack?

  She lifted her head. Her billowing petticoats hid the attentions he provided. Another breeze caressed her folds. “Jack, what are you doing down there?”

  He didn’t answer, but delicious wetness seeped down her thighs. Intense tingles rose like a wave, carrying her along. She stifled the urge to cry out with pleasure. Covering her mouth in the folds of her sleeve, she muffled the cries his attentions drove from her.

  She writhed and shook, until a crescendo sent her to a place she’d never been. Even when she’d lain with him in his hotel room, the feeling hadn’t been this intense.

  She sank into the leaves, panting. A warm lethargy nearly sent her into a swoon. “Oh, Jack,” she breathed.

  He emerged from beneath the white cotton, a huge grin on his face. “Liked that, did you?”

  “Oh, yes.”

  He rose and patted down her clothing. “Now, we can rest and go over what we plan to do.”

  She sat up, her face heating at the recollection of his amorous attentions.

  “You said you have the brooch and the photo?” He leaned on an elbow.

  She nodded. “I just hope they send you back. I don’t know what else will work.”

  “It’s worth a try.” He shrugged. “What else can we do?”

  “But what if you can’t take me with you?” She reached for his sleeve and ran her hand up to his shoulder. “What if I’m left here alone?”

  He bit his lip. “I’ll hold on tight, so if I go, you’ll have to go too.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t know, Jack. I’m afraid.”

  He settled his arm around her shoulder, drawing her into his strength and manly scent. “I won’t let go. I swear.”

  ****

  By dusk, Jack could barely make out the framework of the house. Surely, the workmen had long since cleared out. He hoped they hadn’t locked the house, but if they had, he could climb in one of the first floor windows and let Amanda in through the back door.

  He glanced toward Amanda. In the dark, he couldn’t tell if she was awake. She lay on her side, arms cradling her head.

  He rolled toward her and prodded her arm, then leaned close to her face. Her breath quickened as his lips neared hers.

  “If you’re sleeping, angel, it’s time to wake up. We have to go.”

  Her body stiffened. He tightened his arms around her, hoping she wouldn’t scream.

  “It’s me, Jack,” he whispered. “Don’t be afraid.”

  She rolled toward him. “Jack, I can barely see you.”

  “We have to go. The workmen must be gone by now.”

  She nodded and with his assistance rose to her feet.

  “Take my hand.” He reached for her, then led her out of the half concealed shelter and into the open back yard. Glancing around, he listened intently for any sound out of the ordinary. The houses alongside Randolph’s were too far away for anyone to hear or notice them in the deepening twilight.

  At the steps leading up to the rear porch, he hesitated. “I want to be sure no one’s still in there.” He released Amanda’s hand. “Stay here.” Climbing the steps, he crept toward the window and peered inside. Although too dark to see the inner rooms, the absence of light convinced him no workers lingered. He stepped to the door.

  A presence beside him sent his heart thudding, but the scent of Amanda eased his alarm.

  He whirled around to face her. “I told you to stay put.” His teeth clenched around the words.

  “I was quiet,” she protested. “So quiet, you didn’t notice me.”

  He sighed. “Okay, let me see if this door is locked.” He turned the knob, and the door opened inward. He stepped over the threshold, but hesitated, his pulse racing.

  He turned toward Amanda. “Is this the kitchen we’re entering?”

  “I believe this door opens to the mud room. And that leads into the kitchen.”

  “Mud room,” he repeated. “Of course, I’m thinking twenty-first century. In my time, the room we’re going into was a sort of laundry room with a powder room.”

  “Powder room?” Amanda asked.

  “Never mind. I just want to have a general idea of where I’m going in the dark.”

  “We should be able to find a lantern inside,” Amanda reasoned. “We can use it to light our way upstairs.”

  He nodded. “We’ll have to keep the light low, so the neighbors don’t detect lights in here.”

  Grasping Amanda’s hand, he led her through the doorway, then closed the door behind them. Adjusting his eyesight to the dimmer light inside proved difficult.

  “Where do you think a lantern would be?” he asked.

  “If the workmen were in the kitchen, likely in there.”

  He held his hand out in the direction of the inner wall. Squinting, he thought he glimpsed the outline of a door. Grasping the knob, he opened the door leading into the kitchen, his hearing straining for any sound in the house.

  He led Amanda through the doorway, then shuffled through the large empty room. The side window allowed a bit of dim light, and he was able to make out the outline of what appeared to be an oil lamp in the center of the floor.

  Amanda drew in a breath. “We need a match.” Her hand slipped from his grasp.

  “Be careful,” he hissed.

  “I’ve brought a small box in my bag.”

  “How resourceful.” He smiled even though she couldn’t see his expression.

  After a moment, the lamp ignited. “Here we are,” Amanda said.

  The soft glow illuminated her face. He reached for the lantern’s handle and stepped toward the door, but hesitated. “I want to be sure no one’s in the front rooms. You stay here with the lantern, while I take a look.” He planted his hand on the kitchen door.

  “But how will you see where you’re going?” she protested.

  “I’ll use the light from the windows, and I know most of the layout of the house. I don’t think it’s changed much over the last couple hundred years.”

  She drew in a breath and crossed her arms over her chest. “Please be careful, Jack.”

  He nodded. “Be right back.”

  ****

  Amanda stood as still as she co
uld manage while Jack checked the house. The last thing she wanted to do was alert anyone to their presence by the clicking of her heels over the bare floor.

  She wrung her hands, her heart racing, ears straining for any sound. After what seemed like an hour, but was likely only a few minutes, the door opened to reveal Jack.

  “All clear.” He grasped the lantern’s handle and motioned his head toward the door. “Follow me to the staircase, and we’ll go back to the room.”

  She nodded, her mouth too dry to speak.

  Following him up the staircase, she wondered if she’d done the right thing. But it was much too late to back out now.

  He led her into the room where she’d first found him over two weeks ago. Her life had changed so much since then.

  He placed the lantern in the center of the room and motioned her to join him away from the windows. She glanced at the spot on the floor where she’d first found him sprawled out and hurt.

  She took his hand. “What do we do now?”

  He glanced at the bag fastened at her waist. “Give me the photo of you and the brooch.”

  She fished out the items and handed both to him.

  He studied the photo. “I had this tucked into my pocket when I was hit with the beam.” He opened his jacket and inserted the picture. “Like this.” He patted the spot over his heart.

  Amanda swallowed. “Jack, I’m a bit frightened, but I love you so. Please, don’t leave me behind.”

  He shook his head. “Not if I have a choice in the matter.”

  She bowed her head, her hands clasped tight together.

  He lifted her chin, so her gaze met his. “I don’t ever want to leave you, Amanda.” His lips found hers for a passion filled kiss. Thrilling tingles shot to her core.

  Her arms tightened around him. She’d not allow him to slip through her fingers.

  Pressing the brooch between them against both their hearts, Jack whispered, “Hold on tight.”

  She nodded.

  After a few minutes of clinging together, she glanced around the room. “It isn’t working, Jack. Nothing’s changed.”

  His jaw tightened. “Something’s wrong. We’ll have to figure out another plan. Your stepmother was so sure this room would do the trick.”

  A thump from downstairs set Amanda’s heart racing. “Jack, someone’s in the house.”

  Jack stilled against her as heavy footsteps mounted the stairs.

  “What should we do?” Amanda lifted a fist and pressed it to her mouth.

  “I’ll put out the lamp.” He extinguished the low glow. “Stay very still,” he warned.

  Amanda drew in a breath as something crashed down the hall. Footsteps echoed on the floor drawing closer.

  “Jack,” she murmured into his wool coat, “he’s nearly here.”

  “Just stay with me, Amanda. I’ll protect you.”

  She inhaled his comforting scent, but tensed as a shadowy figure holding a lantern stepped through the doorway. As he neared the center of the room, Amanda recognized the man.

  “It’s Randolph,” she whispered.

  Jack tensed.

  “Who’s there?” Randolph called, lifting the lantern. “Come out from hiding. You’re trespassing.”

  Amanda yanked her hand from Jack’s and stepped toward Randolph. She felt the brush of Jack’s hand trying to pull her back, but didn’t stop.

  “It’s me, Amanda.”

  “Amanda!” Randolph gasped. “Why the devil are you in my house in the dead of night?”

  She drew herself up. “I could ask you the same question.”

  He sputtered. “It’s my house. I can come here anytime I like. You, on the other hand…” His gaze drifted to the corner where Jack stood. “Who’s with you?”

  Jack stepped toward them. “Jack Lawton.” His gaze shifted to Amanda and he shook his head imperceptibly.

  “You brought him here?” Randolph rounded on Amanda.

  “No.” Jack stepped between Amanda and Randolph. “I forced her to bring me here.”

  Amanda grasped Jack’s shoulder from behind. “No, Jack, don’t…”

  “Ah, I see.” Randolph leered. “A lovers’ rendezvous, is it?”

  “I forced her to come with me,” Jack insisted. “She didn’t want to.”

  Amanda didn’t understand what Jack was doing. She only knew he wanted to protect her.

  Randolph nodded. “I’m relieved I didn’t take her to be my wife. You’re nothing but a common strumpet, my dear.”

  Jack’s face tightened. He stepped toward Randolph, so the two men stood nose to nose. “You’d better put the lantern down.”

  “Why?” Randolph asked.

  When Jack didn’t reply, Randolph set the lantern down and stepped back, an amused grin on his face.

  “Do you plan to fight me for her?” He spread his arms wide. “You can have her? She’s nothing but a whore lying with common workmen who spend their nights with their lips wrapped around a bottle of liquor.”

  Jack growled low in his throat and sprung at Randolph. The stunned editor stepped back, but Jack’s fist landed on his jaw, sending him to his knees.

  Amanda’s pulse thundered. “Jack, don’t!” She stepped toward the brawling men.

  “Amanda, stay back!” Jack commanded.

  Randolph recovered and rolled away from Jack, grasping at an object on the floor. In the dim light, Amanda made out the shape of a wrench.

  “Jack, look out!” she called.

  Jack turned too late. Randolph clubbed him and Jack fell to the floor with a thud.

  “What did you do?” Amanda raced forward and sank to her knees beside Jack. “You may have killed him!” She grasped Jack’s face, trying to revive him. He slumped in her arms.

  ****

  Jack woke with a monster headache.

  Where the hell am I?

  Voices murmured around him and the harsh glare of an electric light fixture hung over his bed. He frowned, trying to recall what had just happened. An image of Amanda in the glow of an oil lamp was replaced by Randolph. Randolph had hit him with something hard.

  “Jack!” A woman’s voice by his ear called out. “You’re awake. Finally!”

  He gazed up into the pale drawn face of his mother. He tried to speak but realized he had a tube inserted in his throat.

  “Don’t try to talk, Jack.” She patted his arm. “You’ve been in a coma for weeks. They found you unconscious in that old house.”

  He blinked. He’d been in a coma the whole time? Was any of what happened real? Was Amanda? He fought the urge to tear the tube from his throat to demand answers.

  A woman dressed in scrubs rushed into the room. “Mrs. Lawton, did I hear you say he was awake?”

  “Yes.” His mother caught his gaze and nodded. “Thank God.” She held his hand and gave a reassuring squeeze. “Everything’s going to be all right now.”

  ****

  Two weeks later, Jack was still recovering from his blow to the head and subsequent coma. He had a hard time believing Amanda and everything that had happened to him in the nineteenth century had been a coma dream, but no other explanation made sense.

  His mother gave him the jacket he’d been wearing the night of the accident, Amanda’s photo still inside the pocket. His mother asked him who she was.

  “I saw her photo hanging on the wall in the house and asked the new owner if I could have it.”

  “She’s beautiful,” his mother murmured.

  “Yeah,” he’d agreed.

  Now, he was left to wonder at the vivid dream. He distinctly remembered Amanda’s stepmother telling him the story of her return to the future and how she’d willed herself to come back to Amanda’s father.

  Could he do the same? Did he want to?

  The memory of Amanda’s scent and softness in his arms, as well as the time they’d spent in his hotel room and the grove at the back of the house, convinced him. If there was a way to go back, he had to give it a try.

  Bu
t how? He still had the photo, but could he get back in the house?

  The following day, he tucked the photo into his inner jacket pocket and returned to the house. A string of yellow tape surrounded the structure and grounds.

  His heart thudded as he realized it must be scheduled for demolition. If he couldn’t get through now, the house would be gone forever.

  He’d left a note at his apartment for his mother explaining where he’d gone. He couldn’t leave her wondering, if he was able to actually pull this off. Glancing up and down the street, he ducked under the tape and scurried up to the front porch. He tried the door, and it wasn’t locked. He didn’t think it would be.

  Easing himself inside, he closed the door behind him and strode to the foot of the stairs. He tested a stair to be sure it was stable, then slowly climbed. The interior of the house was cool and dusty. He hoped to hell demolition wasn’t scheduled for today, but the lack of heavy equipment outside assured him he’d be safe, at least for the time being.

  At the top of the staircase, he hesitated, then stepped down the hall toward the room where he’d traveled through time to Amanda. Would her photo be enough to send him back, or did he have to get smacked on the head with another beam? He surely hoped not.

  Erin’s story of her return gave him hope that desire alone would send him back to Amanda.

  As he entered the room, he pulled out her photo. He held it up to a shaft of sunlight shining brightly through the bared window and glanced around the room. An ache knifed through his belly at the thought of this house being razed to the ground. No one would ever know who’d lived here. But if he couldn’t make it back, his one wish was that Amanda didn’t marry Randolph and found love with a better man. If he couldn’t go back, though, he’d never know.

  The empty space where Amanda’s photo had been might have been occupied by another woman’s photo. But if so, he wouldn’t have the picture in his pocket. The paradoxes were agonizing. He had to get back to her. Now.

  He knelt in the center of the floor and stared at the picture in his hands. “I love you, Amanda. I’m willing to give up my life here to spend my life with you.” He kissed the photo. A shiver raced up his spine as the feel of her lips, her scent and softness enveloped him. She wasn’t here, though, but in the past.

  Closing his eyes, he went with the feeling. A wave of dizziness sent him reeling. He slumped to the floor.