“Where are you from, exactly?”
“Around. I was born back East.” Caleb cupped his hand
over the kitten’s back and shoved himself to his feet.
“And?” Lilly stood before him, her hands on her hips.
“After my mother died, I lived in an orphanage. Left there
at eleven and worked the land for awhile.” Caleb stared down
at Lilly. “I didn’t kill Rebecca.”
“I never said you did, Mr. Harrison. The journals, however,
do say a man named Caleb Harrison stabbed her to death, and
no one in the area ever saw him again. I don’t know if you are
that man or not. I don’t know how you arrived.”
Lilly shook her head. “What I do know is that you are the
answer to my prayers. And maybe Becci and I are the answer
to your prayers, too.”
“Your prayers?”
“Yes. That said, I have a favor to ask.”
Caleb took a deep breath. “What kind of favor?”
“Becci needs your help. There’s too much work around
here for one woman, and I’m too old to be of much help. Will
you stick around long enough to get the nursery going?”
What she asked didn’t make sense. Rebecca already had
Luke’s nursery set up.
The unusual words added to the strangeness of the events.
He stared at the woman who waited patiently for his answer.
“I’ll help out as long as I can, ma’am.”
“Promise?”
“Yes, ma’am. As long as the spirits that be let me.”
“Well, Caleb Harrison—if that is indeed who you are—
according to the journals you were considered a man of your
word until you vanished. I’ll understand if you can’t stay. After
all, none of us really knows what’s going on, do we?”
She grinned at him. Almost as if she knew something she
didn’t want to tell.
Before he could speak, she said, “You can give me the
kitten and take the key. You can unlock the shed yourself.” She
held out her hands for the kitten, handed him the key and headed
for the house. When she reached the door she turned and waved
at him before going inside.
Caleb stared at the strange key. It was small and didn’t
look like the keys from his time. Things had definitely changed.
He settled his hat firmly in place and headed for the shed. He’d
always enjoyed a puzzle, and, as he studied the door’s strange
looking lock, he realized this whole episode was a puzzle.
He’d figured out how the key fit and opened the lock just
as Becci joined him. He didn’t want her help, but Jacobs hadn’t
returned. He couldn’t do the job alone.
One fact he definitely knew. Jacobs wouldn’t show up until
he and Becci finished the job. The drunk was a master at
avoiding work.
***
“I’m glad that’s done. I had no idea the wardrobe weighed
so much.” Becci opened the shed door and stepped aside to let
Caleb pass. When he turned and eased by without touching
her, Becci fought the urge to reach out and touch him. “We
actually managed to get most of the things moved.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said with a slight nod and quickly moved
further into the shed. He immediately knelt down next to a
stack of boxes and started going through one of them.
“Who said you could go through my things?”
“Sorry.” He rested his hand on the box and looked up at
her. “May I?”
“Oh, go ahead.”
He gave her a lopsided grin and lowered his gaze back to
the box. He laid aside several items, including a rusty knife
and a leather sheath that appeared to belong together. Both
looked ancient and of little use. Silently, he placed everything
else back in the box and let his gaze move slowly around the
room.
Becci enjoyed watching him, but not once after she’d
granted him permission had he looked back up at her. That
alone proved her point. A man with secrets didn’t make eye
contact. She’d tried to strike up a conversation as they worked,
but unless you considered the occasional “yes, ma’am” or “no,
thanks” conversation, he never spoke. She could have had a
better running dialogue with a brick wall. What was it about
her that kept handsome men at a distance? She felt the tension
build as the silence extended.
She wanted to shout, “Say something. Anything at all,”
but she didn’t dare.
“Is that the other bed table?” he asked as if reading her
mind.
“Oh, ah...” Becci swallowed hard and tried to see what he
pointed at. A big oak tree blocked any light that might have
penetrated the open door and without electricity the room
reflected only dim shadows.
She flicked on the flashlight. The beam cut through the
darkness, slashing across Caleb’s thighs. He flinched as if he
expected the light to hurt.
Lord, he’s jumpy.
Caleb pointed toward a box of boards in the far, left corner
and waited for her answer.
“Yes, that’s the other nightstand. I guess I’m going to have
to toss it out. The parts don’t appear to be broken, but Aunt
Lilly and I can’t get them back together.”
“May I try?” Before she could answer, he took the box
down from the shelf and started arranging the boards on the
floor. She held the flashlight so it would illuminate the area.
After he had all the pieces laid out, he swiftly set them in
the proper grooves. While holding the parts together, he picked
up the rusty knife, wedged it between the top and side, and
eased the dislodged front panel into place with practiced skill.
He twisted the decorative knobs until the front slipped into
place. Then he moved each one until they looked right.
“The wood is a little warped but it should hold until I can
find some pegs to secure it better.”
Becci flexed her fingers to ease their trembling. According
to Aunt Lilly, the man who killed Rebecca had made this
furniture, and Caleb had put the table together with such easy
expertise it was as if he’d built it.
Becci’s heart hammered against her ribs, and she lowered
her gaze to the knife in his hand and swallowed hard. Had
Rebecca’s murderer truly come forward in time? It was
impossible, but if it was true…
She glanced over her shoulder to locate an escape route.
Would she be his next victim? Realizing how ridiculous her
thoughts were, she shook them off and forced her gaze to stay
on him. Why wouldn’t he look at her?
“If-if you need anymore help, just knock on the back door,”
she said, taking a step toward the door.
Her mouth felt dry and her palms sweaty. She brushed her
hand down her thigh and kept her words even and her voice
calm. Her mother had used the same tone with her father to
hide her fear. It had worked most of the time. Hopefully it
would work with Caleb, too.
“After you finish, come see me to get your pay. I’ll need a
receipt for my records.”
>
“Yes, ma’am. I’ll see you after I move the two smaller
tables inside. As for the pay, you can save your money.”
He hesitated, then looked her squarely in the eyes. “When
I’m finished here, I’ll be moving on. Back to my time.”
Becci brushed her bangs off her forehead and stared at
Caleb. Where do you find them, Aunt Lilly?
Last year, when they’d had a little extra money, Lilly paid
a man to work in the garden because he looked like he needed
help. Alcoholics anonymous would have helped him more. The
year before, she’d hired a sticky-fingered maid. Now she had
hired a nut who thought he was a time traveler.
Never again would she let her aunt hire people to work
around the house.
She couldn’t really blame Aunt Lilly, though. Her aunt had
probably looked into his gorgeous eyes and decided that he
might be just the man to come between Becci and Michael.
You lose, Aunt Lilly. He might be sexy, but he’s not my
type.
He flashed a shy smile in her direction, and she felt as if
she’d been gut-punched. She snapped off the flashlight throwing
them into semidarkness. Big mistake. It might hide his smile,
but it put her at a distinct disadvantage.
Why hadn’t she replaced the burned out light bulb? She
didn’t like talking to his shadow, but it beat drowning in the
blue depths of his eyes. No. It was worse, because she realized
that she didn’t have to see his eyes to know when he glanced in
her direction.
“Listen, mister, there is no way you’re from the past.” Her
pulse raced. “Even if you believe what you’re saying, I still
need to pay you for the work you’ve done, and I’ll need a
receipt.” She forced herself to take a deep, cleansing breath,
but it caught in her throat. He would not sway her the way her
father swayed her mother. She wouldn’t allow it.
“You can write, can’t you?” she taunted. “Or, if you are
from the past, are you one of the many of that age who didn’t
think such things were important?” She regretted her words
the minute she spoke them. Even the dim light didn’t hide the
brief flicker of pain that flashed in his eyes. It made her feel
ashamed. He might be a nut case, but even nut cases deserved
respect.
“I’m not highly educated, Miss Berclair, but I assure you I
do read and write,” he answered softly. “The nuns at the
orphanage believed such skills a necessary achievement. You
are right, though. Most of the farmers don’t think education
should interfere with their everyday work.”
He reached toward her, and she dodged. When he took the
leather sheath from the stack of boxes directly behind her and
slipped the knife into it, she released a clipped, nervous laugh.
She watched him take his handkerchief from his pocket
and wipe the dust off the table he’d just repaired. Thunder
rumbled, and the wind caught the door and slammed it against
the wooden frame. He leaped at the door and caught and closed
it just before it banged a second time. With a quick flip, he
snapped the latch into place. The strong emphasis on locking
it made Becci take a step backward.
Lightning flashed again. Rain pelted the roof. Wind
whistled through the broken window. Becci sucked in a deep
breath. She felt as if she’d stepped into a low budget horror
flick.
Why had he locked the door? What would she do if he
attacked her? She stared at the sheathed knife he had placed
out of her reach.
In the eerie semidarkness, she followed Caleb’s movements
as he glanced at the various scraps of fabric scattered on the
floor. He picked up a tattered sheet from the scrap pile and
stepped toward her.
Instinctively, she took a step backward and wrapped her
arms around herself, shuddering.
“I’m sorry. Did I scare you?” he asked
“N...no,” she lied.
“You shivered. I thought you might be chilled. Whether
you are or not, I would appreciate it if you would cover yourself
while in here with me.”
She took the sheet he held out and wrapped it around her
shoulders while he sorted through the rest of the old rags. After
finding one that obviously suited him, he stuffed it into the
window’s broken square. She told herself that there was nothing
sinister in the action, but that didn’t quell the panic stirring
inside her.
She wanted to run, but her feet remained frozen in place.
With the door bolted, she couldn’t make a hasty retreat. Heaven
help her, she was trapped with a nut case who thought he came
from the past and had taken on the identity of a murderer.
She wanted to scream for help, but she knew the cry would
be fruitless. Aunt Lilly was in the house. The storm raged. Wind
and rain pounded the roof.
Pressing her hand to her chest, she asked, “H-how much
did Aunt Lilly promise to pay you?”
“I don’t want your money.”
His voice held absolutely no emotion. The shy smile that
had softened his features moments ago had vanished. Lightning
flashed again. The brief glow illuminated the room for a second
then shoved it back into a ghostly semidarkness.
She saw Caleb’s faint outline as he picked up the flashlight
he’d laid on the floor while he had fixed the table. He rotated
the slender cylinder and flicked the switch. The beam raced
across the cluttered floor toward the back wall. The golden
halo stopped on a small cot in the far corner.
“There is something you can do for me, though.”
Panic knotted inside her as she stared at the bed in horror,
imagining what “something” he wanted her to do for him. The
“no” she wanted to yell stuck in her throat. Her heart pounded,
and her mouth went dry. The man was going to rape her.
Please don’t let this be happening.
She tightened her hold on the thin material draped over her
shoulders. She would fight him. He might win, but he would
know that he’d only defeated her because of his masculine
strength. Swallowing, she moved backward until her heel
bumped against the wall.
“What is it you want me to do?”
“If I can’t get back to where I belong, I’ll need a place to
stay. Let me work for room and board. It doesn’t take a lot to
satisfy me. I’ll sleep there.” He tipped his head toward the cot.
“You won’t even know I’m around. You can give me a list of
chores you’d like done, and I’ll do them. I don’t mind hard
work.”
Becci expelled her breath. In all her life, she’d never before
experienced the fierce fear that had flashed through her, or the
extraordinary relief that followed his request.
“Oh, Lord.” Tears pooled in her eyes. Her legs wobbled.
Unable to stand a moment longer, she slumped to the floor and
leaned her head against the wall’s hard planks.
“Are you all right?” Caleb flung the flashlight
down,
sending long streaks bouncing erratically off the walls. Before
she could reply, he knelt in front of her and covered her hands
with his. “Do you need to lie down? Can I get your smelling
salts for you?”
Gradually her gaze met his. His midnight blue eyes held
oceans of concern and a hint of panic. Before she could respond
he scooped her up and rushed across the room.
Instinctively, Becci hooked her hands around his neck and
buried her head into the curve of his shoulder. As hard as she
tried, she couldn’t hold back her laughter.
“S-smelling salts? Th-thank you for your concern, Mr.
Harrison, but women haven’t carried salts in years. Today’s
weaker sex is not prone to fainting spells,” she said through
spurts of laughter.
She loved the strength of his arms. She should make him
put her down, but no one had ever shown her this type of
protectiveness before, and she liked it. It seemed impossible
that just moments ago she’d felt threatened by him.
“I misunderstood your gesture toward the cot,” she
explained while trying not to giggle. “Some men have been
known to ask women for sexual favors in payment for their
work. F-for a moment I thought you might be considering
force.”
His hands tightened around her, and then his palm glided
up one thigh as he lowered her legs to the floor. When she
wobbled, he steadied her with a light touch on her shoulders.
Becci wiped at the tears rolling down her cheeks. “I’m
sorry. I haven’t laughed this hard in years.”
She fanned her face with one hand and tried to stifle the
next barrage of laughter as she blew out a calming breath. “You
may stay in the shed, Mr. Harrison. Without charge.”
She glanced up, and her laughter died. The silence in the
small shed overshadowed the rumble in the distance and filled
the area with crackling tension. Caleb’s expression held a
combination of anger and hurt.
“I would never force a woman into my bed,” he said, his
words barely audible. “Not for any reason. And although I have
visited a bordello or two, I would not consider it proper to
suggest such a thing to anyone outside such establishments, no
matter how beautiful the woman is. And you are beautiful, Miss
Berclair.”
Spinning away, he snatched a large piece of canvas off the
Christopher, Barbara - Keeper of Key.txt Page 7