Hillary Kanter - Dead Men Are Easy To Love

by Hillary Kanter

  “How will we get there?”

  “Honey,” he said, squeezing my hand, “it’s just a few blocks from here, and we can walk it. There’s no way you’d make it all the way back uptown.”

  Thank God I’d found a makeup bag in my valise. A girl can’t make it without her makeup.

  “What if they don’t have any rooms?” I asked.

  “Worse comes to worse, you can have mine. I’ll sleep downstairs on the parlor couch. Or even on the floor, if I have to,” James said.

  With little choice in the matter, I agreed. We bundled ourselves up as well as we could and headed out into the storm. The wind howled like a hungry wolf, lashing us about, swirling snow into our faces. The drifts were deep, and Etta and I, on account of our long skirts, had difficulty walking. James covered my head with one arm, trying to shield me from the blustery weather, but it was futile. Every step felt like ten. My feet were blocks of ice. In near-whiteout conditions, James and Harry shouted back and forth above the howling, searching for landmarks to guide us in the right direction. Finally they spotted the black and white sign of Mrs. Taylor’s Boardinghouse.

  “Hallelujah,” James yelled.

  The door was locked. He rang the bell, rang it again.

  At last the portly Mrs. Taylor appeared in her bedclothes. “Good God Almighty,” she exclaimed. She was a kind-looking, older woman, with frizzy red hair. “Come in, come in. By God, you’ll all catch your death of cold. No telling how long this storm will keep up. I’ve been so nervous, I had a little more than my usual glass of sherry.” She hiccupped loudly. “Oh, my. Pardon me, pardon me.”

  “Mrs. Taylor,” James said, “this is a good friend of mine, Miss Ariel. She got stuck with us over at Connelly’s. Since there are no carriages runnin’ tonight, she can’t rightly make it back uptown. I was wonderin’, do you have an extra room for the lady?”

  Mrs. Taylor gave me a good look, squinting, then pulling her glasses from the pocket of her robe and putting them on. “You look familiar to me, young lady. Where have I seen you before?”

  Unless she had fast-forwarded a hundred years, I could promise she’d never seen me. I said, “I have one of those familiar faces, I guess. I live here in New York, so maybe we bumped into each other somewhere.”

  “Yes, yes. Maybe so. Well, we’re full tonight on account of the storm, but you’re in luck, miss. I don’t normally rent it out, but there’s a tiny room on that third floor, in the attic. It was my late-husband’s study, God rest his soul. When he started snoring so bad I couldn’t take it anymore, that’s where I sent him to sleep. There’s a bed up there. It’s small, but it’s clean.”

  “I’m sure that will do just fine, ma’am,” I said.

  “Before you all go upstairs, I suggest I take your wet coats, and you can sit yourselves down by the fire to warm up. I’ve got some brandy that you’re most welcome to.” She carried over a cut-crystal decanter and four glasses on a tray. She wobbled a bit, threatening to topple everything, and James lunged forward to steady her.

  Once we were all situated in the parlor, warmed by the fire and by the brandy in our glasses, Mrs. Taylor made to leave.

  “Thank you kindly, ma’am,” Harry said. “We sure appreciate it.”

  “Goodnight to you, then. I’ll see you all in the morning. I’ve got to get my beauty rest—that is, if I can even sleep. What a storm, what a terrible storm.” She shook her head, muttering to herself as she climbed the stairs.

  “She’s three sheets to the wind, don’t you think?” Etta said.

  Harry chuckled and pulled his chair closer to the hearth. “I reckon she is, Etta.”

  Settling next to me on the couch, James poured some more brandy. He held my small hands between his large ones, rubbing them gently. “I’ll take that little room in the attic, and you can take mine. What do you say? It might be more comfortable, and there’s a big tub in case you want to take a hot bath. Besides, Harry and Etta’s room is right next door if you need anything.”

  “That’s very kind of you, James,” I said, as the brandy’s warmth burned a lovely path down my throat.

  “I think I’m going to bed,” Etta said, yawning. “You coming, Harry?”

  Her husband rose slowly. “Now you kids be good,” he said, with a sly smile.

  “Good night, Harry … Etta,” I said.

  James and I were alone now, and he pulled me close. He brushed a wisp of hair from my eyes. My heart raced, and electricity shot through me from head to toe.

  “What is it about you, lady? Why do I feel like I know you, when we only just met?” he asked.

  “I feel the same way,” I answered, though I couldn’t quite put my finger on the reasons why.

  He pulled me close again, as I stared up into his face. He stroked my cheek and brought my mouth closer to his till our lips almost touched. I trembled, closing my eyes, waiting for his kiss. Instead, he exhaled, then kissed me on the forehead the way one might kiss a child.

  “Ariel, I guess we’d better say goodnight before we do somethin’ we might be sorry for. I don’t trust myself to stop once we get started.”

  I looked at him, puzzled. Not this again.

  “I’m a ramblin’ man, honey. I’m not gonna lead you on. I’ll be leavin’ in about three weeks’ time—or maybe two, maybe four—but soon I’ll be goin’, and that’s a fact. I still want to spend time with you, but I need you to know that whatever happens ’tween us, it could only be for now.”

  “I understand. I do,” I said. But I couldn’t stop holding him.

  “Girl, we could only be star-crossed lovers at best.”

  Well, at least this time my love interest wasn’t married. I’d almost made that mistake with Lindbergh. No, this time it might be okay to continue and see where this led. It had been months since that last journey—and since my last date. I felt a strong need for closeness.

  And not just with anyone. With him.

  “Come on, I’ll show you to your room,” James said.

  He hadn’t even kissed me.

  Twenty minutes later, I was running a hot bath. I removed my petticoat, my corset—which gave me some trouble since I’d never worn one before—and the camisole. I laid my wet skirt across a chair to dry. What a pain in the ass having to dress this way. Sure, it looked nice, but I’d have given anything for jeans and a t-shirt.

  I eased into the steaming water, grateful for its warmth. My body was bone-tired, but my mind was alive. Alive with him. I replayed every word, every look, every touch.

  Afterwards, I lay down on the old cast-iron bed. Each time I closed my eyes, sleep fluttered away like a butterfly. My thoughts were going in circles. Man, where the hell was a Lunesta when you really needed one?

  I knew what I had to do.

  I had to see him, talk to him. Tonight.

  I put back on my corset, petticoat, and camisole, but left the skirt since it was still damp. Excitement welled within me. Holding the candle from my nightstand, I tiptoed into the dark hall and up the steep narrow steps toward the attic. I prayed that the ancient wood would not creak and wake anyone up.

  “James?” Knocking at his door, I whispered again, “James? It’s me. I need to talk to you, please.” What would I say? I did not know, and it didn’t matter. I was taking a chance that whatever I was feeling, he might be feeling too.

  Half asleep, he answered the door. He was naked from the waist up, with only a sheet wrapped around his torso, so sexy that it took me breath away.

  “What’s the matter?” he said, yawning.

  “I … I couldn’t sleep. I needed to talk to you,” I whispered.

  He pulled up a chair from the nearby desk, and patted it as he sat back on the edge of the bed. He looked at me, blinking, as though uncertain if he was awake or dreaming. He rubbed his eyes, and said, “My God, you’re almost naked.”

  Naked? In a petticoat and camisole? There were twenty-year-olds in my timeframe who would consider this way too covered up.

 
; “So what’s up, pretty lady? What’s your trouble?”

  “If you want me to be frank,” I said, clearing my throat, “my trouble is you. I can’t stop thinking about you.”

  “Now, Ariel, I really like you, and God knows I could get crazy about you if I allowed myself to. But didn’t you hear a word I said downstairs? I’m gonna be gone in a few weeks. Have no idea if or when I’ll ever be back. You know what I’m sayin’? And you’re gonna be here, right where you belong. It’s just not gonna do neither one of us no good, is it, doin’ a fool thing like fallin’ in love?”

  “We don’t have to fall in love.” My voice was low and husky. “And I don’t care if you’re going to be gone in ten minutes or in two weeks. I just want to be with you.”

  He blinked again, saying nothing.

  Seeing him sitting there, bare-chested in front of me, was more than I could stand. I got up and kneeled by the bed, throwing my arms around his waist.

  He looked down, shaking his head. “I can’t believe you’re doin’ this, girl,” he whispered, his voice turning hoarse as he lost his resolve. “But since you are …” He reached around and yanked the comb from my hair, allowing it to cascade down my back. He ran his fingers through it. “Such beautiful auburn hair, like a river of spun silk.”

  I undid my corset and stepped out of my petticoat.

  His eyes never left me. “Good God, you’re gorgeous,” he said.

  Let the devil be damned. There was no past, no present. Only this moment. Emboldened, I pushed him down and threw myself on top of him, covering his chest with kisses.

  “Whoa, girl. Easy now. Slow it down.”

  “But don’t you—”

  “Oh, I want you, Ariel. Yes. But we don’t have to be in any hurry now, do we? I want to enjoy every inch of your body. We’ve got all night.”

  All night? I sure hoped so. Dear God, I hoped I didn’t get thrust back into the future right now.

  Mr. James Ryan flipped me over so that he was the one on top, and he kissed me deeply. I could barely breathe—and it had nothing to do with the weight of him, the warm, glorious nearness of his body against mine. I can’t say how long it lasted, but when I woke to faint daylight peeking through the sheer curtains, we were still tangled in each other’s arms. He was out cold, and I dressed quietly then crept downstairs to my room. I lay down on the bed and, with exhaustion setting in, tried to gather my thoughts.

  I was beginning to nod off, when I became aware of something digging into my back. As I reached under the thin mattress, my hand met a cold, hard object, and I gasped in realization.

  A pistol!

  And I don’t suppose James carried a permit.

  Puzzled, I ran my fingers over the cool steel, wondering why in the world he would have a gun. This wasn’t the Wild West, after all. We were here in the city.

  I placed it back under the mattress, and fell into a coma.

  ***

  I was startled awake by James’s presence at the edge of the mattress.

  “Rise and shine, morning glory,” he said, lightly touching my face.

  “Good God, what time is it, James?” I rubbed my eyes. The clock on the nightstand read 7:00 a.m., and I leaped out of bed. Snow blanketed the ground outside, starting to melt in the sunshine.

  “You ask what time it is, pretty lady? Don’t you know? It’s time for another taste of last night’s sweet dream, that’s what time it is.” Even as he said the words, he pinned me against the wall and bolted the door with his free hand.

  “No,” I said. “What about Harry and Etta? They’re right next door. They could be awake. It’s not a good time for this.” Where, I wondered, had this voice of reason been last night? Obviously drowning under a sea of champagne and brandy.

  With an exasperated sigh, he sank back down on the bed. “Well then, I’ll just have to settle for breakfast.”

  “All right, breakfast it is. I’ll meet you in the parlor after I get dressed,” I said, pushing him toward the door. “Now, out. Scram.”

  Half an hour later, I arrived downstairs just as Harry and Etta appeared. Harry glanced from James to me, his face twisted by a mischievous grin.

  “Did everybody sleep well last night?” he asked.

  “Oh, that attic room was great,” said James. “I slept just like a baby—spit up and even peed my pants.”

  I averted my eyes, laughing to myself.

  When Mrs. Taylor served coffee and eggs a few minutes later, my hung-over state was eased. If the others were feeling the effects of last night, they hid it well, and we ate in temporary silence.

  “Harry,” Etta piped up finally, “I’m just dying to go to that jewelry store I keep hearing about. It’s called Tiffany, and it’s so close by. Do you mind if we take a look?”

  Tiffany? I couldn’t believe it. It was my favorite store, but I could ill-afford to buy much of anything there in my own time-period.

  “I’d like to see it too,” I chimed in.

  Harry laughed. “Well, Etta, it seems you’ve shopped every other major store in the city the last few days, so why not this one?”

  “Let’s go then,” James said. “And later we can go to Central Park and do some ice-skating. After that great night of sleep you had last night, Ariel, you should be bustin’ with energy.”

  I elbowed him in the ribs, throwing him a dirty look.

  “Why, girl … is your face turning red?”

  I elbowed him again.

  The trip to Tiffany was short. Entering the store was like walking into a glittery, dreamlike, wonderland. The 1901 version was a bit smaller, but otherwise much the same. Crystal chandeliers hung above scores of glass-filled cases stuffed with jewels. As Etta moved from case to case, her eyes widened and she ooh-ed and ahh-ed. She stopped in front of one, studying a gold lapel watch, then motioned to the young male clerk behind the counter.

  “May I see this one?”

  “Why certainly, madam,” he answered. He removed it from the case and presented it to her, then watched her turn it over in her palm. “It’s a beauty, isn’t it? It’s eighteen-karat gold, and one of our finest timepieces. It’s priced well too, at $40.80.”

  James glanced over his shoulder, watching her admire it. “We’ll take it,” he said, pulling out a money roll and peeling off several bills.

  My, the cowboy business must’ve been more lucrative than I guessed.

  “James, I can’t let you buy that. It’s much too expensive,” Etta protested.

  “I won’t take no for an answer. What good’s money if you don’t spend it? Sir,” he said to the salesclerk, “would you please wrap that up?”

  “Of course. Right away”

  “And when you’re finished, would you please help me find something for my nice friend here?” he said, touching my arm.

  “James, I couldn’t possibly,” I said.

  “Yes, you could, possibly.” He took hold of my hand. “How ’bout a ring? You already have a necklace.”

  “I couldn’t,” I said again.

  “Why, that is a beautiful necklace,” the salesclerk said.

  “It’s a quartz crystal,” I said, before he could ask.

  The clerk handed Etta her package, then reached under the counter and pulled out a black-velvet tray with enough sparkling gemstone rings to blind a body. “These are some of our newest additions,” he said.

  My eyes roamed past diamonds, rubies, and sapphires, and lit upon a small ring with a beautiful yellow stone in the center. I touched it.

  “Ah, I see you’ve found our most exotic one in this group,” the salesclerk said with a gleam in his eye.

  “What is it?” James asked.

  “It’s a rare gem called a Canary diamond. They are naturally yellow. This specimen is one-quarter carat, set in platinum. Here,” he said. “Try it on.” He slipped it onto my finger.

  “It fits perfectly,” I gasped.

  “How much?” James wanted to know.

  “The price is only $150.”r />
  Where I came from, that was a steal, but I knew it was a fortune in the year 1901. “James, it’s way too much,” I said.

  “I really want you to have it.” He turned to the young clerk, peeling off several more large bills. “We’ll take it. And could you engrave it? I’d like it to say ‘Love, James.’”

  “Of course, sir. I’ll do that right now.”

  Love?

  Considering James and I had known each other for only twenty-four hours, this was faster than a bullet. Thinking of bullets made me think of guns—an issue I’d unpleasantly need to address soon.

  It was only eleven-thirty when we departed Tiffany. Although I had agreed to go ice-skating at Central Park, my lack of sleep was catching up with me, making me more tired by the minute. Despite this, the trip was worth it. The air was crisp, the park’s landscape soaked with sunlight. We skated hand in hand, with James falling half a dozen times while Harry and Etta and I laughed. He could ride a horse, but he sure as hell could not ice-skate.

  Tired but content, we finally called it quits.

  As we strolled along a walkway beneath overhanging, snow-laden branches, I decided it was time to confront James. Taking a deep breath, I turned. “Can I ask you something?”

  James stopped. “Sure. Shoot.”

  Great choice of words.

  “Okay.” I cleared my throat. “Well, last night I couldn’t sleep because there was something hard under the mattress.”

  “You mean on top of the mattress,” he laughed. “Yeah, I’d say it was pretty hard.”

  “Now quit. I’m being serious.” I blushed. “When I felt for it, it was a pistol.”

  “A pistol? That’s a right good description of it,” he kidded again.

  “Seriously, it scared me. James, why do you have a gun?”

  “Oh, that,” he said, shrugging. “It belongs to a pal of mine in Texas. He asked me to hang onto it for a while and then see if I could sell it for him. Under the mattress was the best place I could think to hide it until I do. I’m sorry if it scared you.”