been gone when she returned home.
“You should have waited on me.” She stepped toward the
chest and brushed her fingers over the carved initials.
“Be reasonable, Becci. If I have to wait for you, nothing in
the house will get finished in time for your party,” Caleb said.
“Tearing apart the furniture has nothing to do with the work
you’re doing. It’s not even on the list of jobs I gave you.”
Besides, she wanted to shout. I want to work with you. Instead,
she said, “Maybe you ought to go downstairs.”
“I’ll put the chest back together before I leave. You
wouldn’t want any of the parts to get lost.”
She nodded. He supposed she meant that as a yes. He
reached for the panel he’d removed. That’s when he saw the
neatly folded square of paper inside the cubical. He could easily
palm it, but it, like everything in the house, belonged to Becci.
Caleb carefully slipped the paper out. He recognized the
seal as Rebecca’s. His heart pounded in his ears. There was no
name on the outside and no indication as to whom it might
belong. He wanted to tear it open and read the letter.
Instead, he handed it to Becci. “I’m not sure if this is
important or not. As you can see, I haven’t broken the seal.
Which, by the way, contains Rebecca’s own personal insignia.”
Becci’s hand trembled as she let the yellowed paper rest in
her palm. As Caleb said, the wax seal remained intact. Careful
not to destroy the fragile piece, Becci ran her finger under the
wax and opened the letter. She recognized Rebecca’s flowing
penmanship immediately.
This should be a letter of recognition attached to an
orichalc medallion, but several years ago Saul’s brother used
the coin to pay a woman for her services. When he tried to
reclaim it, she refused to give it back. I am afraid it has been
lost to us forever. Now there is only one medallion—the one
Saul gave me the night he died—and it is already in the hands
of its rightful owner. I will meet with the new keeper tomorrow.
The letter was dated June 17, 18 6, the day before Rebecca
died. Becci looked from Rebecca’s letter to Caleb, her mind
full of questions. Was Caleb’s mother the one who refused to
return the medallion? He’d said she was a lady-of-the-evening.
Was he the rightful owner Rebecca had referred to as having
the medallion, or was the medallion the reason Rebecca had
been killed?
Becci refolded the page, knowing she had to know more
about the medallion before she could trust Caleb.
“Please, fix the chest. Then I need your help to change the
furniture around in my bedroom. From now on, the work
upstairs will be done in the evening after I get home.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Caleb combed his fingers through his hair.
What had the note said that upset her so much? And her wary
expression said she was upset. He wanted to ask her, but he
knew instinctively she wouldn’t tell him. So instead of asking,
he replaced the panel on the chest and shut each drawer while
she stood over him. Things had definitely changed between
them.
She leaned against the door frame until he had all the parts
back together, then she followed him to her bedroom.
“What do you want changed in here?” he asked
“The dresser. I think it would look better against the wall
opposite the window.” She pointed to the far wall.
“Do you think you can help me move it? I would hate to
scratch the floor.”
Without saying a word, Becci braced one hand at the front
of the dresser, caught the back leg and lifted her side. Caleb
caught his side in a similar manner.
What’s wrong, Becci? I don’t like seeing you upset.
She glanced up, her eyes wide. What in the world?
You can hear what I’m thinking.
“Yes,” she whispered.
You heard me the day I arrived, too, didn’t you?
Did I? Was that really his thoughts I heard?
Yes. And I heard yours, too. It must be the dresser that
links us together. Why you and not Jacobs? I heard his
thoughts, but he didn’t hear mine.
Becci set the dresser down, hoping that she wasn’t
trembling as badly on the outside as she was on the inside.
How could she read Caleb’s thoughts and him hers? It was
impossible—wasn’t it?
“I think you’d better go. I need time to figure this out.
And, Caleb, this is just between you and me,” she said as he
set his side down. “I do not want Lilly to hear one thing about
what happens when we both touch the dresser.”
Her heart raced as the connection finally made sense. He’d
made all the furniture, and she’d heard his voice when they
both touched the dresser. But, he’d made the chest, too, and
she hadn’t heard him when they both touched it.
The chest. If it had a secret compartment, maybe there was
one in the dresser, too. And if there was, maybe the medallion
was the reason for the strange connection between them. He’d
said it had “powers” he couldn’t explain.
She started to ask him if there was a secret compartment
in the dresser, but she couldn’t voice the words. If the medallion
was in there, he’d be leaving—maybe right in front of her eyes.
“We need to discuss what just happened and the medallion
we talked about last week. Until we do, I don’t want you
opening any more secret compartments,” she said. “Do you
understand what I’m saying?”
“Perfectly.”
***
More than a week had passed since Becci had realized
that the medallion might be in the dresser. She still hadn’t
asked Caleb if there was a secret compartment, although if
there was, he was a master at building secret compartments.
She’d tried everything she could think of to find one, but she’d
come up empty.
Unable to sleep, she tossed and turned in her bed. When
she heard Pepper’s sorrowful meow, she decided to go
downstairs and see what was wrong with the kitten. When she
entered the room, she glanced out the window and froze. Caleb
was in the yard, but what was he doing?
Her gaze didn’t stray from him as he filled the bucket,
fought with the hose, and prepared for his shower. She kept
telling herself that she shouldn’t spy on him, that she should
turn on the light so he’d know she was there, but she simply
couldn’t move. Soon, he was bathed in nothing but moonlight
and glistening drops of water, and she drank in the sight of
him.
Had her namesake, Rebecca watched him in secret like
this? From what Becci had read in the journals, probably so.
The first few months after Saul’s death Rebecca had written
paragraphs of grief, followed by praise for the support Caleb
had given her. Then things had changed.
Becci sighed as she recalled Rebecca’s words. The accurate
descriptions she’d given in her journal told Becci that Rebecca
<
br /> had cared for Caleb. In them Rebecca had described in detail
how his broad shoulders stressed the seams of his shirt while
he chopped wood or carried in one of the heavy pieces of
furniture he’d made. He is a man who is not afraid of hard
work or gentle conversation, she’d written.
Becci sighed again. She could add a few descriptive words
of her own. Some that weren’t too complimentary, such as
sneaky and manipulative. Then of course, there were those
words that a woman of Rebecca’s social status nearly two
hundred years before wouldn’t have been caught writing, like
alluring and sexy. Caleb was all that and more.
He moved with a masculine grace she’d seen only on
television or in the movies. What would it be like to run her
hands over his soap-slick body? To feel his muscles bunch and
relax at her touch? Her fingers tingled with the urge to push
open the door and find out.
“He’s quite a sensational specimen,” Lilly whispered from
the doorway. “But I don’t think he would approve of you
watching him from the shadows.”
Becci forced her gaze away from the window. “I know,
but there’s something about him….”
“Becci, you’d better consider all the possibilities before
you involve your heart,” Lilly warned.
“It’s too late.” Becci frowned. The confession startled her.
Had she really let this stranger wind his way into her heart?
“What happens when he leaves?” Lilly asked as she pulled
out a chair to join Becci.
Becci covered her aunt’s hand. “He won’t. He has nothing
to go back to.”
But even as she said the words, she knew they were a lie.
Time and again he’d told her he had to go back to his time.
“He may not have a choice,” Lilly said. “And don’t forget
Luke. Caleb must go back to take care of him. He gave his
word. He also thinks he might be able to save Rebecca. That’s
why you should take your time with this.”
Becci closed her eyes. She didn’t want to think about Caleb
leaving. And she couldn’t stand the thought of him marrying
her namesake. She knew in her heart that if Caleb returned to
his time and saved Rebecca, Rebecca would marry him—and
not just for Luke’s sake.
But whether or not he stayed, Caleb had taught her one
thing. She couldn’t marry Michael. She didn’t love him.
“You don’t have to worry about anything happening
between Caleb and me. I care about him, and I don’t want to
see him hurt. That’s all.” It was a flat out lie, but she had to
convince herself it was the truth.
“I’ve got to get dressed,” she said before her hand could
respond.
She hurried upstairs, slipped on her uniform and pinned
on the small nurse’s aide hat. She checked her hair in the mirror
and smiled. Last week, as she discussed her job, Caleb had
caressed her cheek, and she thought he might kiss her again.
He hadn’t, though. From then on he hadn’t come in for his
morning coffee until after she’d left for work. He’d even told
her aunt about the rule she’d put into force about him not being
allowed alone in any of the rooms. Personal reasons, he’d
explained.
Becci grabbed her badge off the dresser, clipped it to the
pocket of her lab coat and plopped down on her bed. Caleb
was avoiding her. She’d gotten her proof last night when she
took him the list of chores for today. He’d asked her to slip it
under the door because he wasn’t decent.
He’d lied. She’d looked through the window before she
knocked and saw him sitting on his bed whittling a chunk of
wood. He’d had his shirt off and his pants on. What else was
he lying about? Damn it, why couldn’t they be friends?
“What am I doing wrong?” she mumbled as she ran
downstairs and rounded the corner into the kitchen.
“I don’t know. You look fine to me.” Caleb immediately
stood up. “I do prefer your hair down,” he added. “But you
said you had to wear it up for work.”
Becci raised her hand to her chest and tried to still her
racing heart. She’d barely managed to get her raging hormones
under control from her spy session a short while ago, and now
they were going at a full gallop again. “What are you doing
here?”
Lilly gave her a scathing look as she handed her a cup of
coffee, and Becci knew her tone had been too harsh.
“I’m sorry,” Caleb said.
Becci raised her hand. “No. I’m sorry. I’m not used to seeing
you in the kitchen, so let me start again.”
She cleared her throat and tossed a quick glance in Lilly’s
direction. Hooking her thumb under her purse’s long strap, she
adjusted it and lifted her gaze to meet his. “Good morning,
Caleb.”
“Morning, Miss Berclair.” Caleb swallowed hard. He’d
never found it difficult to talk about work before, not even
with Rebecca. Right now his mouth felt like he’d stuffed it full
of cotton. He’d been avoiding Becci all week, hoping it would
curb her effect on him. It hadn’t.
“I’ve finished repairing the furniture for upstairs. Just let
me know when you’ll be able to watch me take them up.”
She hadn’t expected her rule to cause such problems. She
should have remembered that her aunt went upstairs only when
she had no choice. “I’ll be home tonight. You can finish up
then.”
“That’ll work out fine. We need to discuss the party, too.
Will you have the time to talk after you’ve finished your evening
meal?” Caleb asked.
“I have a better idea. Why don’t you, Aunt Lilly and I eat
together? We can talk while we eat.”
Caleb reached for his hat and the sack of sausage and
biscuits Lilly set on the table for him to take to Jacobs. “I’m
not sure that’s such a good idea.”
“Caleb Harrison, you will eat with us tonight,” Becci
ordered.
“Yes, ma’am.” He suppressed a satisfied grin. She must
have forgiven him for his snooping. He’d thought they might
go on a picnic, but he’d forgotten she had to work.
“I’m sorry, I forgot,” he murmured.
“Forgot what?” Becci asked.
“Huh?”
“What are you apologizing for? What did you forget?”
“That you had to work today,” he stammered. “I thought
we might go on a picnic.”
“That’s a great idea. We’ll plan one for my next day off.”
She glanced at the calendar. Michael’s name was scrawled
across the date in bright red.
Caleb’s gaze followed hers. “Maybe a picnic isn’t such a
good idea after all. Mr. Ascott wouldn’t appreciate me escorting
his woman.”
She didn’t care what Michael did or didn’t appreciate. She
stifled a groan. She needed to break her engagement with him
soon. Hopefully he wouldn’t hold it against her when the time
came to sell her property.
&
nbsp; “We’ll discuss it later.” She hurried past Caleb, took her
keys off the hook, and let the ring slide over her finger with a
jingle. “I have to leave or I’ll be late.” She opened the door. A
rush of hot, humid air stole her breath. It wasn’t even seven
yet, and the rising temperature indicated the day would be
another record breaker.
“Give Pepper some water, and remember to drink some
yourself,” Becci advised Caleb, affecting a melodramatic,
motherly tone. “Take a break every hour, and don’t swim in
the pond.”
Caleb laughed like she’d hoped he would.
I could be happy here.
Becci blinked as the words reverberated in her head. Had
she heard his thoughts? They weren’t touching the dresser, so
that was impossible—wasn’t it?
Twelve
Becci blocked out both the whimpers coming from the clear
plastic portable cribs and Meg Franklin’s constant chattering.
One of the aides hadn’t shown up, so she and Meg were
responsible for the four girls and two boys.
The little girl she held to her shoulder stretched her fist
upward, burped and then curled into a tiny knot. Becci adjusted
her into the crook of her arm and hummed softly.
Meg finished feeding the baby she was tending and changed
its diaper. Meg was the closest thing to a best friend Becci had
ever had. They had taken several courses at the University of
Tennessee together, had applied for their jobs as nursery aides
on the same day, and somehow managed to work on the same
shift three out of every five days. In a couple more semesters
they would have taken all the courses they needed to attend the
Methodist Hospital’s School of Nursing.
“Hey, girlfriend, you’re not listening again. I asked if
you’ve decided what classes you’re going to take in the fall?”
Meg repeated as she cupped her hand beneath the baby’s head
and carried her back to her crib. She checked the infant in the
next crib and sighed. “This one’s not too happy. I don’t think
he likes the formula they’re giving him. He’s always hungry.”
“Boys usually are. At least that’s what I’ve heard.”
“Classes, Becci. Which ones?” Meg prodded as she took
the little boy to the changing table.
“I’m not taking any. I used up all my savings to patch the
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