Christopher, Barbara - Keeper of Key.txt

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by Keeper of Key. txt (lit)


  his hat and settled it back on his head, ordering, “Let’s get this

  in place.”

  They each caught a side of the dresser. Lightning flashed,

  sending glittering beams through the room. A sharp crack

  followed. Caleb adjusted his saddlebags and slipped his hand

  along the dresser’s side to protect the wood.

  Where’d ya put that damn gold neckpiece? Jacobs’s words

  filtered through his mind just as tiny points exploded through

  his arm. Caleb immediately jerked his arm away from the

  dresser and flexed his hand. The prickling started at his fingers

  and danced upward to his shoulder.

  The tingle reminded him of the strange sensations he’d

  felt when he’d held the gold-colored medallion, only stronger.

  Ignoring the flicker of pain and Jacobs’s curses, he slipped

  his arm back in place and forced the dresser into the room.

  Caleb braced his weight against the slick wood. An intense

  burning ignited the nerves in his arms, legs and chest, finally

  centering in his head.

  “Push the thing through the door,” Rebecca’s soft voice

  called from inside the room, yet it seemed far away.

  No, it couldn’t be Rebecca. She waited in the parlor with

  Luke.

  “Rebecca, honey, don’t harass the workers,” a stranger’s

  voice called. Distant, yet so close Caleb would swear it came

  from someone standing at the foot of the stairs.

  Where is it? Jacobs’s demanding thoughts clamored with

  the other voices.

  Caleb rested his head against the dresser and relaxed a

  moment. Thunder shook the walls. Jacobs was right. He would

  never make it back to town before the storm hit. The only thing

  Rebecca and he could do was let the man stay in the barn until

  the weather cleared.

  ***

  Memphis, Tennessee, Raleigh area

  Present Day

  “I don’t want to sell,” Becci Berclair muttered. She

  stretched across the bed to straighten the spread. She liked her

  aunt’s idea of a nursery for newborns. The area definitely needed

  one. Besides, it would solve all their problems—financial and

  otherwise—if they managed to get it opened.

  She knew Michael wanted her to sell the old place. He’d

  told her often enough that it was nothing more than a money

  guzzler. Still, he had gone out of his way to help her and Aunt

  Lilly find a way to save Berclair Manor. When she asked him

  why, he’d said he loved her and if she truly wanted the place

  he would do everything he could to help her save it. Then he

  managed to have her request added to the list of names vying

  for the Ascomp grant.

  When, shortly after inheriting the place, she’d been

  approached by a real estate agent wanting her to list the

  property, her first thought was, Sell her home? Absolutely not.

  She’d thought herself lucky when she inherited the family

  homestead, but she hadn’t known about the outstanding debts.

  Now she knew that even if she sold she wouldn’t clear enough

  money to live a month much less a year. And that’s what she

  needed—enough money to get her through one year of living

  expenses so she could finish her schooling. Of course, Michael

  had said that after they’d married he’d help out on the expenses,

  but knowing he really didn’t feel she should keep the house,

  she couldn’t ask him to do that.

  Lightning flashed through the room, interrupting her

  thoughts, and a sudden downpour dotted the floor with plump

  rain circles. Becci skirted the bed and put her strength into

  shutting the window. It wouldn’t budge. With luck, she might

  get it down before the whole room flooded.

  A man’s curse sliced through the room. Startled, Becci

  whirled around and saw two men and the dresser through the

  doorway. When had the workers come? It really didn’t matter

  as long as they had the furniture in place before Mr. Latham

  arrived.

  They were sure taking their time with the dresser, though.

  Becci braced her hands on her hips. “Just push the dresser

  through the door.”

  “Rebecca, if that’s the workers, don’t you dare harass

  them,” Aunt Lilly called from the foot of the stairs.

  Becci drew in several deep breaths. It didn’t help. Her

  temper still threatened to erupt. Her aunt meant well but—

  She rolled her eyes toward the ceiling and turned back to

  the window. Let the workers go at their own pace. What did

  she care if it took them half a day to move the dresser into the

  bedroom.

  Caleb brushed his hand over the side of the dresser. Just as

  lightning flashed again, it vibrated and jolted over the threshold

  with such force that both he and Jacobs tumbled into the room

  after it.

  A searing pain as keen as a flint-sharpened knife cut through

  Caleb. His legs trembled and threatened to give way. He clung

  to the side of the dresser and glanced at Jacobs.

  The drunk held the dresser in a white-knuckled grip, his

  arms stiff and his jaw clenched. Did Jacobs feel the pain too?

  Caleb tried to call to Rebecca, but the words were a silent

  beckoning.

  Rebecca, help me.

  Caleb, take Luke with you. You promised.

  Rebecca!

  It’s too late.

  Caleb heard the anguish in Rebecca’s voice. Her next words

  were calmer, but he still heard her pain.

  Go where the spirit leads you. Be safe, Caleb Harrison.

  Rebecca’s words vibrated through Caleb. Haunting. Pain

  riddled. Luke’s cry tore at his heart.

  Oh, Luke. I love you as if you were my own.

  He suddenly knew he was losing the boy—would never

  again hold him in his arms again. Never have him snuggle

  against his chest or call him papa. Never see him grow to be a

  man.

  “No.” The word tore from Caleb. He didn’t want to lose

  the child. Didn’t want to live without the innocent love Luke

  showered on him. At that moment, he acknowledged that he

  loved the boy as if he were his own.

  Caleb slumped to the floor as a glaring white light filled

  the room. Searing heat flamed in him. He tried to shield his

  head with his arms as he cried out for Luke and Rebecca. He

  heard Rebecca scream in pain, heard Luke’s wail, then total

  silence.

  Caleb heard an agonized groan and recognized it as his

  own. Slowly the pain eased, and he opened his eyes. The room

  swirled—tilting, shaking and spinning in all directions.

  The vibrating dresser changed with each passing second.

  Staring at its beautiful, glistening wood, Caleb watched its

  appearance alter before his eyes. A deep, fresh, scratch ripped

  the side, swirling angrily down the whole length of board.

  “No,” he whispered, raising his hand to the scarred

  indention only to have the marred line darken as if colored by

  time. A corner cracked away. He reached up to snatch the chip,

  only to have it slip through his fingers and vanish before it hit

  the floor. The mirror rattled in i
ts frame, then cracked.

  A menacing quiet settled about the room, charging the air

  with tension. Caleb glanced to where William Jacobs crouched

  behind the dresser. The drunk’s terrified look told Caleb that

  whatever was happening they were in this together. Jacobs

  jumped to his feet and ran for the stairs. He suspected the man

  was going to look for a bottle. He knew that Rebecca kept a

  bottle of whiskey for medicinal purposes, and he was sure that

  Jacobs would find it. That meant he wouldn’t do anything but

  drink the rest of the day.

  Caleb turned his gaze back to the dresser. His whole body

  trembled. His heart raced dangerously. He clutched his

  saddlebags to his chest with one hand and traced the dresser’s

  dented planes with the other. What had happened to cause all

  this damage? Had lightning somehow struck it?

  As he asked himself the questions, the pounding of his

  heart began to ease, and the room slowed its swirling march.

  Lightning flashed.

  Caleb rolled his head against the floor and peered around

  the dresser. Regret tore through him as he stared at the long

  break in the looking glass. Rebecca hadn’t even seen the beveled

  mirror. He’d hoped to surprise her with it.

  What had happened to destroy it? Confusion and anger

  battled with his common sense. Although the dresser looked

  similar, this couldn’t be the piece he’d just moved in here. Yet

  in his heart he knew that although it no longer resembled the

  beautiful piece Rebecca would have loved, it was definitely

  the one he’d just shoved into the room.

  The silver-backed looking glass, once giving a perfectly

  clear image, now reflected a marred surface with discolored

  circles. The two sides gave a distorted, jagged, swirling

  reflection of the gradually slowing room.

  Wind roared through the open window, whipping the soft

  white curtains and popping the material with such force that it

  threatened to rip them off the frame. A tree limb scraped the

  glass and rain pelted the floor, leaving small mounds of water

  in little pools.

  Caleb drew in a shaky breath and rolled his shoulders. No

  broken bones. And no pain except for his head, and that would

  pass. Right now, he needed to close the window before the

  water damaged the floor.

  He listened for Luke’s cry. Nothing. Had Rebecca finally

  quieted him? Were they still downstairs waiting for him? They

  had to be. Rebecca wouldn’t take Luke out in a storm.

  Caleb sat up and caught the edge of the dresser to pull

  himself upright. Before he could stand, motion in the mirror

  caught his eye. Bare legs—feminine, perfectly shaped, bare

  legs—moved into view in the cracked looking glass. Caleb

  sucked in a sharp breath. In all his thirty years he’d seen such

  a sight only once and then quite by accident.

  Whoever the woman was, she rose up on her toes and

  pressed on the top of the window. He couldn’t pull his gaze

  from her mirrored image.

  Where had this woman come from? Why had Rebecca let

  someone of such obviously immoral demeanor enter her house?

  Was this another of Rebecca’s sisters? A black sheep, perhaps?

  He’d met Rebecca’s twin, Catherine, and this definitely wasn’t

  Catherine who carried too much weight to have legs that slender.

  Well, he would have a word with Rebecca. If she expected him

  to marry her and raise Luke, this woman would have to leave.

  He wouldn’t have Luke living in a home that the townspeople

  would gossip about. He knew firsthand how such slander could

  unfairly destroy a boy’s reputation for life.

  Caleb released his hold on the dresser and brushed his damp

  palms against his trouser legs. Still kneeling, he twisted around,

  telling himself he had to be imagining the apparition. Rebecca

  was a good woman and would never let a loose woman into

  her home, even if she were a relative.

  At the sight that met his eyes, his heart picked up its pace.

  The reflection hadn’t lied. A real woman stood by the window,

  and he focused his gaze on her bare feet. Inch by inch he

  followed the gentle curves upward. Instead of frills and

  petticoats, she was dressed in clothes he’d never seen before

  and showed more flesh than a proper woman should. A lot

  more flesh. She wore something resembling men’s pants, but

  they stopped just below where her legs joined her hips.

  Caleb swallowed around the lump in his throat. Not only

  were the men’s pants cut short, they started a good four inches

  below where her top ended. He’d never seen so much woman.

  Not even at the bordello he’d visited every Friday night before

  he moved to Raleigh.

  His head might be swirling, and his vision slightly blurred,

  but he could tell that regardless of her attire—or lack of it—

  her beauty rivaled any he’d ever seen.

  But beautiful or not, he had to get her out of Rebecca’s

  house before her reputation was ruined. If that happened, even

  marriage to him might not stop Obadiah from stealing Luke’s

  heritage from him.

  He tightened his grip on the edge of the dresser and tried

  to stand again. Pain, sharp and intense, tore through his head,

  and the room suddenly faded into darkness.

  Three

  Becci just about had the window down when another curse

  rent the air. She again whirled around to tell them not to use

  such language in her house, but the sight of colorful lights

  encircling two men who’d just stepped over the doorway

  stopped her.

  One of the men turned and stumbled from the room. As his

  footfalls faded, the other man glanced at her before his iceblue

  eyes rolled back. His body twitched for a moment, and

  then he sank into a motionless heap.

  “Aunt Lilly, I need help up here!” Becci yelled as she

  hurried across the room and scooted the dresser out of the way

  as best she could. Fear knotted inside her. Her hands were

  shaking.

  “Calm down and check his pulse,” she whispered, mentally

  going over the procedures Aunt Lilly had taught her. She pressed

  her fingers to his wrist. “Slightly elevated, but steady.”

  “Respiration.” Becci frowned at the strange saddlebags

  he held, then shoved them aside and rested her hand on his

  chest.

  “Come on, make those breaths deeper, mister,” she ordered.

  He seemed to obey, and Becci breathed a sigh of relief.

  “That’s it. Keep it up. Help is coming. Aunt Lilly’s a retired

  nurse. She’ll know what to do.” What was keeping her aunt?

  Becci flipped her braid over her shoulder. “What next?”

  She went through the list of emergency procedures again.

  “Skin tone,” she muttered as she cupped her hand to his

  cheek. She brushed her knuckles over his chiseled features, as

  she stared down at his rough, yet ruggedly handsome, face.

  He looks really good..

  Becci let her hand glide down his neck to his shoulder and

  on to his upper
arm. Trim, yet muscular. A real working-guy

  physique like the type used in the television commercials that

  had women hanging out the windows for a peek.

  Lord, even unconscious the man sent a tingle of attraction

  to the pit of her stomach. His raven-black hair curled over the

  collar of his flannel shirt and accentuated his sun-drenched

  skin.

  “Aunt Lilly!”

  “I’m coming, dear. The other man collapsed at the foot of

  the stairs,” Lilly said as she entered the room. She drew in

  several deep breaths before she dropped to the floor beside the

  other worker and held a glass out toward Becci. “Take the

  glass, honey. I’m too shaky to hold it and pour the whiskey at

  the same time.”

  “Whiskey?” Becci gasped in disbelief. What had gotten

  into her aunt? After the way alcohol had destroyed Becci’s

  father, Lilly despised the use of liquor for any reason. “What

  are you doing with whiskey?”

  Aunt Lilly winced as she answered. “I bought a couple

  bottles after I read the journal last week. I was putting it in the

  cabinet when I heard the commotion. The other man snatched

  the one bottle I had when he came around. He drained half the

  whiskey in one long swig.”

  Her aunt paused and drew in a deep breath. Becci drew in

  one with her, too stunned by her aunt’s behavior to comment.

  “Before I could explain that he needed to rest a moment,”

  her aunt continued, “he ran out the door, bottle in hand, so I

  had to get this one. That’s why it took me so long to get up

  here.”

  Becci rolled her eyes toward the ceiling. She knew what

  her aunt’s next words would be. Sure enough, Lilly didn’t

  disappoint her.

  “They have to be from the past. The book says...”

  “Don’t start. There is no way these men came from the

  past. You hired them. Didn’t you?”

  “Me?”

  Becci arched her brows and looked at her aunt askance.

  They both knew she’d hired them. She opened her mouth to

  state as much, but closed it without uttering a word. What was

  the use? Her protest wouldn’t be heeded. If her aunt chose to

  use a remedy she found in one of the old tattered journals they’d

  found, she would. And no amount of prodding would change

  her mind.

 

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