Christopher, Barbara - Keeper of Key.txt

by Keeper of Key. txt (lit)

  The innocent air surrounding her didn’t correspond with either

  the way she dressed or her forwardness.

  Caleb groaned. He might as well give up on sleeping. He

  rolled to his feet and leaned against the oak tree he’d lain under.

  The sun’s orange glow had yet to paint the horizon. If he hurried

  he could finish washing and be dressed in time to have a cup of

  coffee before doing his morning chores.

  Besides, maybe the icy water would help dissolve the

  masculine needs that surged with every thought of Becci.

  Grabbing the bucket, rag and soap Lilly had given him, he

  headed toward the water spigot. The lights were off, and

  everything looked peaceful inside. But the shed looked that

  way, too, and he knew firsthand that those walls had been

  anything but peaceful the last few days.

  It would have been nice to clean up in the water room Miss

  Lilly had shown him. It wasn’t necessary though, because he

  had everything he needed outside. With the cover of darkness,

  he could undress and bathe under the oak using the snakelike

  tube Lilly had called a hose. She had used it to water the plants

  yesterday, and now he would use it on himself.

  Holding the hose in one hand, he twisted the handle above

  where it was connected. Water suddenly erupted from the end

  of the tube and jerked the hose out of his grip. It snaked

  maniacally over the ground, spurting water everywhere. Caleb

  dodged the erratic showers.

  He chuckled and brushed the water off his shirt. Couldn’t

  he even clean up without causing a mess? At least Becci wasn’t

  around to see him make a fool of himself this time.

  Catching the hose under his foot, he leaned down and

  retrieved the wildly wiggling end. There had to be a way to use

  the thing to his advantage. His damp hair trickled water into

  his eyes as he studied the situation.

  Suddenly he realized that by throwing the end over one of

  the low hanging oak limbs he could create a shower. He tossed

  the end over the branch and again dodged the erratic spurts of

  water. At least it didn’t flop off.

  He finished bathing quickly, filled the bucket, and turned

  off the water. Jacobs would also clean up, Caleb vowed, as he

  gathered up everything and headed toward the lake to find

  Jacobs.

  After searching for the drunk for over an hour, Caleb made

  his way back up the hill. Golden squares of light spread across

  the yard from the kitchen window. Lilly smiled at him through

  the glass. She raised her cup as if offering it and motioned

  with her hand for him to come in.

  “Morning.” He placed his hat on the hook beside the back

  door and took the steaming mug Lilly handed him. He breathed

  in the coffee’s rich aroma and took a long, deep sip of the

  brew.

  “Have a seat, and I’ll make you breakfast,” Lilly said. “I

  hope the coffee is okay. I added an extra scoop, so it might be

  a little strong.”

  The coffee tasted weak to him, but he liked it more than

  the bitter brew he usually fixed for himself. “It’s fine.”

  Lilly opened the large white box called a refrigerator, took

  out a short tube, pulled off the paper covering and whacked it

  against the counter. Then she placed the doughy contents on a

  flat pan.

  “Miss Lilly,” Caleb started. “I’ve got a problem, and I

  believe you might be the only one able to help me out.”

  “I’d be delighted to help.”

  “You best wait until after you hear what I’ve got to say

  before you offer your services,” Caleb replied. “It involves

  Jacobs, the man who passed through time with me. He

  has...needs. I can give him half my food, but he’s a drinking

  man.”

  “And he’s asked you to get liquor for him.”

  “Not exactly. He plans on stealing it, and the only place he

  knows where to steal it is from your house. I don’t want him in

  here again.”

  “That explains why he grabbed the whiskey that first day.

  Was he the one pilfering through our things the other night?”

  Caleb nodded. “I think so.”

  “Money’s tight, but I’ll get a couple of bottles while I’m

  out shopping today. I’d rather spend the money and have Becci

  mad for a day or two than have that man back in the house.”

  “I’d hate to cause trouble between the two of you. Maybe

  I should ask Becci.”

  “No. It’ll be okay.”

  “What will be okay?” Becci asked from the doorway.

  “I asked Miss Lilly to help me get a few things for Jacobs,”

  Caleb said. He wouldn’t let Lilly lie for him.

  He set his cup down, tipped his chair back and let his gaze

  roam slowly up Becci from her white shoes to her lips. Today

  she wore a pink shirt and matching pants. A tiny hat that looked

  as if it belonged on a doll was on her head, and her hair was

  twisted up like it had been the night before.

  She moistened her bottom lip, and the memory of their

  shared kisses flashed through his mind. He wanted to pull her

  into his arms and finish what they had started last night.

  “What does this Jacobs guy need?” Becci asked as she

  poured herself a cup of coffee and pulled out the chair opposite

  him.

  Suddenly, Caleb remembered his manners, lowered the legs

  of his chair and stood. He shifted his gaze to the large oak in

  the backyard and then to toward where Becci stood across the

  table from him.

  Becci drew in a shaky breath and lost herself in the blue

  depths of Caleb’s eyes. For a long moment they just stared at

  each other. When he looked away, she felt the loss as if it had

  been a tender caress instead of a steamy once over.

  “What does Jacobs need?” she repeated.

  When Caleb faced her again, his expression showed no

  emotion. He’d again locked his feelings securely behind an

  invisible wall. She wanted to shout at him for shutting her out.

  Instead she waited for his answer.

  “Food, clothes and whiskey.”

  “I don’t have money for liquor.”

  “You can’t afford not to buy it.” Caleb’s voice held a

  warning. “He’s a drunk, and if he doesn’t have his spirits, he’ll

  steal them—or something he can trade to buy them.”

  “Fine,” Becci said as she drank the first sip of her coffee.

  “There are some old clothes in the shed. He can have those,

  and I’ll pick up a bottle of whiskey tonight. And you’d better

  tell him to make it last.”

  Caleb walked to the door, took his hat off the hook and

  brushed the crown with the cuff of his shirt. “I’ll be sure he

  understands.”

  “I’ve got to leave for work. Just give Aunt Lilly a list of

  anything else you need,” Becci said.

  “Work?” She’d mentioned work a couple of times, but he’d

  thought she meant the work around the house. “You work

  outside the house? For other people?”

  “Yes. I’m an aide at Methodist North Hospital across the

  str
eet.”

  He frowned and eased back into the chair. “You shouldn’t

  have to work. You’re a woman. Besides, there’s more than

  enough for you to do here. Who’s going to do the mending and

  the washing and the cooking?”

  Becci knew he didn’t understand that today’s women

  worked outside the home, so she didn’t get angry at his

  chauvinistic statement. “Aunt Lilly and I share the cooking. I

  don’t sew. And thanks to the washer and dryer, the laundry

  doesn’t consume as much time as it used to. I can wash

  everything in one evening after I get home.”

  He looked confused, but all he said was, “This work you

  do, what is it?”

  Becci glanced at her watch. She wanted to explain it to

  him because, strangely enough, it mattered what he thought

  about her chosen occupation. But she didn’t have time to talk

  to him now.

  “I’ll tell you tonight,” she said. “If I don’t get out of here,

  I’ll be late for work.”

  As she rushed out the door, she felt Caleb’s hungry gaze

  burning a hole in her back.

  ***

  Jacobs had watched the strange carriage leave the house

  last night, stop at the foot of the hill, and back into the trees

  out of sight. He hadn’t expected it to still be there this morning,

  but it was.

  The man opened the car door, stepped out and stretched,

  then pulled out a cigar and lit it. Jacobs moved closer and

  stepped out from behind his hiding place.

  “I know you.” Jacobs cursed the slur he heard in his voice.

  The sun still hung high in the sky, but that didn’t mean anything.

  He couldn’t remember the last time he was sober.

  “Ya come to Raleigh lookin’ for Obadiah some years back,”

  Jacobs said as he slipped to the ground under the old magnolia

  tree. “Ya bought me a bottle for showin’ ya the way to the

  Berclair’s. Drunk or sober, William Jacobs don’t fergit a man

  who buys him a bottle.”

  “I wondered if you had come with Harrison. Last time we

  met I asked you to stick close to him. Do you remember what

  you were supposed to find out?”

  “Sure do. You said you’d buy me another bottle. You got

  the whiskey?”

  Ascott reached inside his car and brought out a bottle of

  whiskey. Jacobs reached for it, but Ascott jerked it back. “I

  can get you a whole case of the stuff for the right information.”

  “And what mighten that be, Mr. Ass—cott,” Jacobs leaned

  forward, his gaze never straying from the whiskey.

  “Where’s Harrison?” Ascott asked.

  “Round back diggin’ in the mud around the Widder’s

  roses—at least they was her roses. Now I guess they belong to

  the women livin’ there at the house.”

  Michael frowned. “Widow? Saul’s dead?”

  “Yeah, got hisself sick and died ‘bout a year ago.”

  “And Rebecca?”

  “She’s gone, too.”

  “Sorry to hear about Rebecca. She was a fine lady. But if

  she’s dead then Harrison probably has the medallion that

  matches this one.” Ascott tucked the bottle of whiskey under

  his arm and pulled a small metal box out of his pocket. He

  opened it and tipped it so Jacobs could see inside.

  “Yeah, he does. You told me to steal it, but I ain’t had the

  chance,” Jacobs said.

  “You’re sure he has it?” Shutting the box, Ascott slipped it

  back into his pocket and caught the neck of the bottle.

  “Reckon so. He had it when we left Raleigh. Course I ain’t

  seen it recently.”

  “Find out where it is, and I’ll keep you supplied with this

  stuff for the rest of your life.”

  Jacobs licked his lips and reached for the bottle. Ascott

  didn’t let go. “Deal?”

  “Learn where that there necklace is, and I won’t have to

  worry about gettin’ myself whiskey?” Ascott nodded and Jacobs

  said, “You got yoreself a deal, mister.”

  Ascott got in his horseless carriage, then rolled his window

  down and said, “Another thing, Jacobs.” Ascott tipped his head

  in the direction of the house. “No one up there is to know that

  we know each other or the deal’s off.”

  * * *

  Becci came in the back door. Caleb sat at the table where

  she’d left him that morning, a legal pad and set of pastel colored

  pencils in front of him.

  He glanced up and smiled. Then he shoved the tablet aside

  and stood. “Lilly said it was time for you to come home.”

  “And I invited him to eat here tonight so you two can talk

  about your job,” Lilly added.

  Becci felt her heartbeat pick up speed. She’d planned to

  talk to Caleb after she’d cleaned off the day’s grime and eaten,

  but talking over dinner in the kitchen was better than meeting

  Caleb in the shed or beside the lake.

  “I’m off to play bridge,” Lilly said as she set a plate of

  corn bread in the center of the table. She returned to the stove,

  ladled out two bowls of soup and brought them to the table.

  “Help yourself to more, and don’t worry about cleaning up.

  I’ll do that when I come back.”

  Becci eased into her chair and picked up her spoon. She

  paused when Caleb bowed his head and blessed the food. “What

  were you drawing?” she asked.

  He moved the pad so she could see the drawings. “I asked

  Lilly if she’d seen the medallion. I drew these to show her

  what it looked like.”

  He pointed to the first circle. “One side, the front, is for

  friendship—two hands clasped together.” He scooted his

  fingertip across the page to the second drawing. “The other

  side represents hatred—two fists raised in anger. Lilly said she

  hadn’t seen anything like it. Have you?”

  Becci studied the page. “No. Afraid not.”

  He tore the sheet off the pad and tossed it into the garbage

  can beside the door.

  “The medallion is the key to the portal. I have to have it to

  go back and save Luke and Rebecca.”

  Picking up his spoon, Caleb kept his gaze on the soup. As

  soon as he got the chance, he would ask Becci’s permission to

  open the secret compartment in the dresser upstairs and get the

  medallion out, but not tonight. He had to find Jacobs first and

  make sure the man was with him. Otherwise, the portal might

  open up and take him, leaving Jacobs behind. If the drunk got

  stuck here, he might do the same thing to Becci and Lilly that

  he had done to Rebecca.

  “So,” Caleb said. “Tell me about this job of yours.”

  ***

  Becci watched as Caleb knelt before the small chest of

  drawers in the nursery, concentrating on the decorative knobs.

  A week had passed since she’d come home from work and sat

  down with him at the table to tell him about her job. He’d

  seemed truly interested in what she did.

  What was he doing? she now wondered. She’d asked him

  to paint the woodwork, not work on the furniture.

  He opened each drawer and ran his hand insi
de all the way

  to the back. He left all of them open in a stair-step fashion with

  the bottom drawer pulled almost all the way out. With his back

  to her he stood, moved to the side, and fiddled with one of the

  carved initials. Reaching across the top he turned the other

  handle slowly.

  Becci couldn’t stop her surprised gasp. The top panel slid

  down to reveal a small cubbyhole.

  Caleb whirled around, the knife he’d been using to pry the

  panel free still clutched in his hand. “You’re early.”

  “What are you doing?” Becci shouted, fear erupting inside

  her as she gazed at the knife. If the journals were to be believed,

  he’d killed her namesake with a knife.

  “It’s not what you think.”

  “Do you plan on using that on me?” Becci indicated the

  knife with a tip of her head.

  “No.” Caleb sheathed the blade and laid it on the chest.

  “You know I would never harm you.”

  “Really? How am I supposed to know that?” she asked,

  placing her hands on her hips and glaring at him.

  “Because I say I wouldn’t.”

  “Okay, you won’t harm me. You’ll just steal from me.

  That is what you’re doing, right?”

  Caleb glanced toward the dresser. If he told her the truth,

  she wouldn’t understand, but he couldn’t lie. The damning

  words lodged in his throat.

  “Caleb, I need the gold legend says is hidden in this house

  so I can help save as many children as possible. So if there

  really is gold here, it’s important to me. Now, I ask again, what

  are you doing?”

  “Opening the top of the chest.”

  “I can see that. What I want to know is why?”

  “To see if Rebecca might have hidden anything of value in

  the chest. Anything that might...”

  Pay some of the bills I found while snooping around

  downstairs. Put a few coins in your coffers. Buy the cradles

  the company refused to send you on credit. Help you, he

  thought. But he couldn’t give any of those reasons to Becci. If

  she found out he’d been pilfering through her personal things

  he would never be able to get the medallion. “...help me discover

  how to get back to my time.”

  Icy fingers squeezed his heart at the thought of leaving. If

  he’d opened the dresser instead of the chest, he might have