“What I wear is none of your business. I’m sure Mr. Latham
will understand if I’m not dressed to the hilt for this meeting.
After all, he’s just coming by to see the area for the nursery
and pick up the financial statement that needs to be filed with
my application.”
Lightning flashed behind her, and she shot a quick glance
at the window. With her thumbs hooked in her back pockets,
she rose up on her tiptoes and swayed. Rebecca rocked like
that while trying to think. Only Rebecca usually braced her
fists on her hips because she didn’t have the pockets to hold on
to.
As he took her in from the top of her head to the tip of her
toes, he was ashamed to admit that this woman made his heart
race and his blood heat like no one he’d ever encountered, not
even the women he’d visited at the bordellos. And he was sure
that’s where this woman had come from. Of course, he wouldn’t
know about her because Rebecca wouldn’t discuss a black
sheep relative with him. She also wouldn’t let such a relative
into her home unless it was under duress. So what had this
woman done to force Rebecca to take her in?
“You and the other lady were discussing some journals.
May I ask where you found them and what was written in
them?” he asked with more casualness than he felt. Had she
somehow found out about The Keeper journals? Was she
working with Obadiah? Something inside him told him that
that was exactly what was going on. She and Obadiah were
teaming up to steal Luke’s inheritance, and he wasn’t going to
let that happen.
She looked relieved by his question. “We found several
books. My great-great-great-grandfather, Obadiah Berclair
wrote some of them. He kept one that discussed his father Eli
and his brother, Saul Berclair. Saul built this house. There are
several others written by my great-great-aunt, Mary Rebecca
Berclair, who was my great-great-grandfather Samuel’s favorite
aunt. That’s who I was named after. I believe there’s even one
journal written by her sister, my great-great-great-grandmother,
Catherine.” She held up her hand and counted off the greats as
if to be sure she put enough in. “They married brothers.”
She shook her head, looking bemused. . “Finding those
journals really sent Aunt Lilly on a sniper hunt.”
Caleb went still. He must be dreaming. This woman talked
about Rebecca, Saul, Catherine and Obadiah as if they were
long lost relatives, but that was impossible. Samuel, who was
Rebecca’s nephew, was only ten-years-old, for heaven’s sake.
He reached for his saddlebags, and his hand hovered over
the cracked leather. A corner of his journal protruded from the
open flap, its edges frayed. What was going on? The journal
was new!
For the first time since he regained consciousness, he really
looked around. Only two of the five furniture pieces were in
place—the dresser he’d just moved in and the bed.
Cracks marred the beauty of the hand carved “B’s” on the
bed’s headboard. The wood no longer showed the texture of
the grain, but had gone dark. Three white-lace doilies similar
to the ones he’d watched Rebecca create only a week before
lay on the matching coverlet in the seat of a rocker he’d never
seen. The lace looked old and yellowed.
Caleb closed his eyes. Everything about the room looked
age-worn and tattered. The wallpaper didn’t even have the same
design. The dresser, which he’d lovingly wiped with the final
coat of linseed oil only this morning, had a dull, uncared-for
finish.
“I’ve got work to do,” Becci said, turning back to the
window she’d been trying to close when he first saw her. “You
just sit there and rest until you’re feeling better.”
Caleb wasn’t about to rest. He was going to find Rebecca
and learn what was going on. He pushed himself to his feet,
picked up his hat and saddlebags from the floor and laid them
on the rocker. He would retrieve his belongings and go looking
for Rebecca after he put the dresser into its proper place.
He rubbed his hand over the tight muscles at the back of
his neck and studied the once beautiful scrollwork he’d labored
over so hard. He could do nothing to restore its beauty.
Confused by how the furniture had changed in just a matter
of minutes, he decided to ignore the problem for now and take
care of the immediate one, which was protecting Rebecca’s
bedroom from the rain. He walked over to the window and
edged Becci out of the way.
“I won’t let you or Obadiah steal Luke’s inheritance,” he
said as he shoved the window down.
Becci caught his shirtsleeve and whirled him around. Caleb
stared at the hand that rested on his arm and faced her. Concern
flared in her eyes.
“What inheritance?” she whispered.
“This house, of course,” he replied.
Four
Caleb glanced at the hand resting on his arm. Her touch
felt real. He let his gaze trail up her arm to her well-rounded
bosom. The small piece of fabric she wore showed every
rounded contour.
Heat scorched his cheeks, and he quickly turned his back
to her only to come face–to-face with her image in the cracked
mirror. Damn it, he didn’t know where to look.
“What inheritance?” Becci asked again.
“Nothing. G-gold, maybe?” He swallowed hard, forced
his thoughts away from the woman’s body, and locked his eyes
with hers. If she didn’t know about the gold Rebecca had
hoarded or the orichalc medallion, it wasn’t his place to tell
her. The gold belonged to Rebecca. And according to Rebecca,
he was the keeper of the medallion until Luke came of age. He
knew the rules, knew its powers, but Rebecca would decide
who inherited Berclair Manor and its contents.
“There is no gold or, as Lilly prefers to call it, orichalc,”
Becci said. “We have antiques and this old house that’s
mortgaged through the roof. That’s all.”
Smiling, Becci caught her braid, gave it a sharp tug and
flipped it over her shoulder. “I’m tired of all these stories about
something that doesn’t exist and probably never did.”
Caleb’s breath caught, and he snapped his gaze back to
the window. The hazy reflection in the glass only made him
want to look at the real person standing beside him. Even
blurred, he could tell that her smile made her eyes sparkle,
which added to her appeal. He’d bet his horse that she had her
pick of the men who visited her work place.
“We also have six journals.”
“Journals?” Caleb repeated. He cast a quick glance in her
direction then forced himself to turn away again.
“Yep. They tumbled right into our laps last month while
we were going through some of the junk in the shed. One of
the tables literally fell from the top of the mess, dumping the
box of journals at our feet.”
&
nbsp; Becci frowned. Did she have remnants of her lunch between
her teeth or something? The man acted as if he couldn’t stand
to look her in the eye.
“Did Aunt Lilly hire you to look for the treasure that’s
supposedly hidden in the house? Well, it doesn’t exist. And
please look at me while I’m talking to you.”
She planted her hands on her hips and rocked up on her
toes. “I want to be sure you understand completely. I’m not
paying you to go on a treasure hunt. I’m paying you to bring
the furniture from the shed to the upstairs before Mr. Latham
arrives. Understand?”
Caleb swallowed hard. He’d thought she just didn’t realize
her effect on him, but at her demand for him to “look at her,”
he knew better. He scanned the room for something to cover
the woman.
She might not care who saw her body, but as long as she
remained under Rebecca’s roof she would not display herself
for his benefit.
“Ma’am, would you please cover yourself while I’m in the
room?” Without waiting for her answer, he crossed to the bed
and jerked off the spread.
“I’ve never met your Aunt Lilly,” he said, draping the
coverlet over her shoulders. “At least not before she
administered to me just now.”
He caught one of her hands and pressed it against the loose
ends. He let his fingertips brush the back of her hand as he
reluctantly pulled away.
“You said one of the tables broke.” He waved his hand
toward the dresser. “Does it match this bed and dresser?”
He couldn’t turn away. Couldn’t concentrate. Even with
the coverlet wrapped around her shoulders, the memory of her
pale, bare midriff flooded his mind.
“This is ridiculous.” She raked her free hand through the
bangs curling over her forehead. “Of course it does. The
bedroom furniture are the only pieces that lasted. Whoever made
them knew his trade.”
“Yeah.” Caleb felt a surge of pride followed by concern.
Why had Rebecca removed the other pieces? Had they changed,
too? Had the linseed oil he’d used done this damage and
Rebecca just didn’t want to tell him? He ran his hand over the
side of the dresser.
“If you’ll show me where the rest of the furniture is, I’ll
get back to work.”
“Did your fainting spell cause your mind to go blank, too?
The rest of the furniture is in the same place you found the
dresser.”
Caleb frowned.
Becci rolled her eyes toward the ceiling and expelled a
hard breath. “We stored everything in the shed while we painted
the nursery and office,” she explained.
“Shed?”
“Are you sure you’re up to the job?” She heard the concern
in her own voice. The man looked healthy, but he had just
passed out. She ruled out his having anything major wrong
with him. After all, he’d just moved the dresser up the stairs.
Lightning flashed again. Becci glanced at the window and
mentally counted off the seconds while she waited for the
rumble of thunder. Two. Not far away at all. According to the
weather forecast, the small shower preceded a raging storm
that was due to arrive within the hour.
“I’m fine,” Caleb said, pulling her back to their
conversation.
He reached out, as if he wanted to touch her, but his hand
never reached her cheek. A half smile tipped one corner of his
mouth as he slowly lowered his hand. She should move. She
should tell him not to even think about touching her, but the
thought of his touch sent a tingle from her toes to her lips.
Would his kiss create the same rippling effect? Heaven help
her, what had brought that thought to mind?
He stepped back, and the fluttery sensations inside her
ebbed away.
Her common sense shouted for her anger to flame, but what
she felt bordered on…disappointment? Yes, disappointment
at not receiving the kiss her mind had conjured up. Becci
expelled a breath and decided to ignore both emotions. Neither
would help the situation.
“I hope you’re worth your wages. I don’t have money to
waste.” She knew she was being rude, but she couldn’t seem
to help herself. The man was having such a strange effect on
her. Instead of apologizing, she flung the spread toward the
bed and walked out of the room.
She stopped at the door and turned to stare at the man. She
wanted to ask his name, but his actions stopped her. What in
the world was he doing?
Caleb brushed one finger over the door frame before his
gaze collided with the woman’s. She didn’t appear to have been
harmed when she went through the door. He arched one brow
and caught the doorknob, glancing at the room. It still looked
basically the same, yet different. The dresser and bed both
looked…old.
Rebecca told him the medallion could transport people
through time, and he hadn’t believed her. But that’s what this
felt like. He gave a wry shake of his head. This had to be a
dream. Dreams often felt real until a person woke up.
If he went into the hall, would it cause him to wake up?
Whether it did or not, he couldn’t stay in Rebecca’s bedroom.
It wasn’t proper. Besides he had to find Jacobs and make sure
he understood that he could stay with him in the barn for the
night. He didn’t like the idea, but he couldn’t send the drunk
back to town in a raging storm.
As he prepared to step through the doorway, Caleb kept
his eyes on the woman. Resting one hand on each side of the
door frame, he walked through the entrance. A tingling sensation
pulsed around him. Not the painful prickles of before, but a
gentle throb. He would ask Rebecca if what had happened
earlier had something to do with the orichalc medallion.
The woman called Becci remained in front of him.
Disappointment mixed with excitement and fear. This was a
dream, so why hadn’t he awakened from it?
The woman headed for the stairs. “We need to get going,
Mr…I’m sorry, I don’t know your name,” she said, stopping at
the top of the staircase to look back at him.
Caleb shrugged. “My name is Caleb Harrison.”
Becci paused, her fingers tightening around the handrail,
and she turned to scowl at him. “Aunt Lilly put you up to this.
I know she did. Don’t you even think about trying to trick me
into believing you’re from the past.”
Without giving the man a chance to answer, Becci pivoted
and ran down the first flight of stairs. At the landing, she stopped
and glanced over her shoulder, watching the stranger start down.
“What is your name?”
“Caleb Harrison,” he repeated.
“Listen, mister, I don’t know why Aunt Lilly put you up to
this charade. But if you insist on taking the name of one of the
characters my namesake, the original Mary Rebecca Berclair,
wrote about, I’d rather you did
n’t choose the one who murdered
her, even if that murder did happen more than a hundred and
sixty years ago.”
“M...murdered?”
The shock she saw reflected in his expression looked
genuine. It was the same kind of look she’d seen at the hospital
when friends and family learned of a loved one’s death.
Recalling the journals’ claims that the orichalc coin let people
travel through time, she felt an eerie shiver climb up her spine.
He couldn’t be the real Caleb Harrison, could he? No.
Impossible.
Pain gnawed at Caleb’s heart. Rebecca’s dead? He caught
the banister and stared down at the woman on the landing below.
The image of Jacobs holding the blood-soaked knife flashed
through his mind. Did Jacobs kill Rebecca? Did he kill Luke?
But if he had, how would this woman know about Rebecca’s
death without him knowing about it, too?
“You’re lying. Rebecca’s not dead. She and Luke are
waiting for me in the parlor.”
Caleb glanced past Becci to the sitting room’s entrance,
and then he let his gaze scan the old portraits that lined the
stairwell. There were unfamiliar portraits that he hadn’t seen
before, and he felt a fluttering of panic as Becci’s words
replayed in his mind. She’d said the original Mary Rebecca
Berclair had been murdered more than a hundred and sixty
years ago.
Again, the image of Jacobs with the bloody knife flashed
through his mind. Had the drunk killed Rebecca and come
upstairs to kill him, too? Was he actually dead instead of
dreaming? But if he had died, and Jacobs had killed him, why
had Jacobs come with him in this dream or nightmare or
whatever it was? Although illogical, was Rebecca’s claim that
the medallion could transport a person through time true?
Caleb sucked in a deep breath and expelled it slowly. For
the first time, he let himself believe in the possibility of time
travel because he couldn’t let himself believe that Rebecca and
Luke were dead and lost to him. He had to get back to them,
but he couldn’t leave Jacobs behind. If the drunk had harmed
either Rebecca or Luke, he would make sure he paid the price.
Finding Jacobs came first, and then he’d find his way back
to Rebecca and Luke. When a voice inside whispered that he
was too late, he refused to listen. Rebecca and Luke were alive
Christopher, Barbara - Keeper of Key.txt Page 5