Jacobs jerked free. “Don’t you worry, Mr. Ascott.”
Ascott opened the car door and slid onto the seat. “Heed
my words, Jacobs. Just heed my words.”
With that warning still lingering in the air, Ascott did
something to his carriage that made it throw rocks into the air,
and then it fishtailed down the drive and out of sight.
***
Becci set her purse on the counter and snatched up the
note from the stack of clothes.
Dear Lilly, You said you could get your money back on
these. I hope you can. I do not feel they would be favorably
looked upon when I return to Raleigh. I have enjoyed learning
your customs and getting to know that no matter how bad
things are where I come from, there is a future. Hopefully I
will not be a burden on you much longer.
Caleb
Becci’s chest tightened, and she read the note again. Did
Caleb really feel like he was being a burden to them? Clutching
the paper in her fist, she ran toward the shed.
“Caleb?” She knocked and waited for him to answer.
Nothing. She knocked again, then put her ear to the door. All
she could hear was the rapid thunder created by her own heart.
“No,” she choked out. “You can’t leave like this. You can’t.”
She drew in a deep breath. “Be calm,” she ordered herself.
“He hasn’t left. He hasn’t.”
Or had he? Was he telling Aunt Lilly good-bye and leaving
without acknowledging her? Tears burned her eyes. Would she
ever see him again? Watch the water glistening on his broad
back? Hear him laugh at some ridiculous invention? Or taste
his lips?
She slowly trudged up the hill. She wanted to throw
something or scream or cry. She scooped up the clothes and
hugged them to her chest. They still carried his unique scent—
fresh, outdoorsy. She would ask Lilly to give the clothes back
to Caleb...if he was still here. Why had she reprimanded her
aunt in front of him? Why?
Becci shouldered open the back door and laid the clothes
back where she’d found them. Grabbing the notepad beside
the telephone, she scribbled a note to Lilly.
Hopefully, her aunt would be able to return the clothes to
Caleb sometime today. Becci placed the note on the table beside
the sugar bowl and caught her purse’s shoulder strap. Right
now, she had to get to work.
***
Caleb hefted the sharp ax to his shoulder, picked up the
burlap sack, and headed for the woods. The sun peeked through
the trees. It had been dark when he’d come up to the shed from
the pond, but not dark enough.
He’d started up the hill with every intention of having his
morning shower, but decided to skip it. He had work to do.
Saws, knives and axes were his tools of trade, and they needed
tending. If a man wanted to be good at his trade, he had to
practice. To do that he needed supplies.
Caleb lowered the sack to the ground. He caught a lowhanging
branch and scanned the thick underbrush looking for
a fallen tree, one suitable enough to make a small trinket box
for Becci. A nice pine or a cedar would do the trick.
Hopefully he would be able to find one that had been down
long enough to be dry, but not so long that rot had set in. Pine
trees lined the top of the next hill. Caleb hoisted the ax back to
his shoulder and caught hold of the burlap sack. Maybe he
would find something deeper in the woods.
He froze when he reached the hill’s crest. Twenty feet in
front of him were three lines of different shaped automobiles.
They took off as if he’d scared them out of their nesting place.
He dropped the sack beside him and slipped to the ground. As
he watched, another colorful group came to a halt in front of
him, stayed for a moment then moved away. While one set
rested others passed in front of them. The lines came and went,
stopped and started.
Above them, a mysterious rectangle went from green to
yellow and then to red. A loud noise erupted from one of the
cars. One man waved his fist at another.
Caleb backed away. His heart echoed in his head. These
things looked dangerous rolling along in their little clusters—
exciting and dangerous. Too dangerous for him to consider
investigating alone. He would have to wait for Becci to escort
him onto the funny roads in the powerful carriages.
Ppppppa. Pppppaa. The sound of Luke’s voice startled
Caleb, and his heart hammered in his chest. Had he stepped
back in time?
A breeze twisted the tall Johnson grass. Off in the distance
he could just barely make out the roof of Berclair Manor. Before
him cars stopped and started. Across the road one man held a
sign to a tall, limbless, tree, while another man placed the end
of something that looked like a gun against the sign, and the
sound erupted again. It wasn’t Luke. Just a strange sound from
an even stranger looking object.
Realizing it wasn’t Luke left him feeling both disappointed
and relieved. Heaven help him, he was torn between going back
and staying. In the past, Luke needed him and loved him. And
Rebecca, a friend, had trusted him with both hers and Luke’s
future. They both would be happy to have him permanently in
their lives.
Here, there was Becci. Who...Who what? She didn’t trust
him to be in her house alone. She definitely didn’t like him,
nor did she need him. But he loved the way her hair cascaded
over her shoulders, the softness of her skin, and the sweet scent
of wildflowers she always wore. He loved everything about
her, even her independent streak.
No, she definitely didn’t need him. Unless you counted the
fact that he knew where the gold was hidden. And he did know.
He was sure of it now.
Caleb turned to the left. If he planned on finishing the trinket
box he was making, he needed to find a suitable wood for the
tray. Maybe he would have better luck if he headed away from
the automobiles, or cars, as Becci had called them.
“Finally,” he whispered hours later. He rested his foot on a
downed oak and stared at the pile of brush containing, not only
oaks, but also pines, maples and various fruitwoods. Any of
which would work for his project.
Sweat trickled down Caleb’s cheek. The sun stood directly
overhead. It had taken him half a day to find what he needed.
Of course, he’d spent a good part of it watching the cars stop
and go down the road.
Caleb dropped his sack and picked out the right-sized tree.
He raised the ax and slammed it down. Putting his foot on the
log, he worked the blade out of the wood and again brought it
down. He reached for the piece that cracked away and put it in
his sack.
He repeated the action, adding another hunk of wood to
his trove. He reached down to move a chunk of bark away
from the blade. That’s when he saw the swarm of angry yellow
jackets inches from w
here he’d buried the ax into the log.
One of the insects slammed into his hand, and he knocked
it away. The flash of pain told him his reaction hadn’t been
quick enough. He tried to jerk the ax free, but it wouldn’t budge.
If the ax had been his, he could leave it behind, but it wasn’t
his. He had only one choice. Hold the log steady with his foot
and work the blade out. Hopefully he would loosen the ax before
the swarm had a chance to inflict too much pain.
***
“Aunt Lilly,” Becci called as she opened the back door.
“In the parlor, dear,” Lilly called back. “And before you
ask, the answer is no, I haven’t seen Pepper all day. Frankly,
I’m worried. He didn’t come when I called, and he’s always
eager to come in after you leave for work. Caleb didn’t come
in for his morning coffee, either. Even during the three days
you two weren’t talking, he came in to have a cup of coffee
with me.”
Lilly sat in the rocker, her head tilted back. The early
afternoon sun danced across Rebecca’s tattered journal, which
rested on her lap. Pushing with one foot, Lilly kept the chair
moving in a rhythmic sway.
“Do...do you think he’s...gone?” Becci asked. She heard
the quiver in her voice and knew her aunt had heard it, too.
She’d practically run out the hospital door when her shift ended
at one. She’d spent her entire morning worrying about Caleb.
“Could be. He’s been mysteriously absent all day. He might
have left, or he could be off exploring on his own. I promised
him I’d take him shopping, but after yesterday, I doubt he’ll
ever want to go. Maybe we should just give him the gold and
let him leave.”
Had her aunt found something in the journal? Becci rested
her hand on the book to get her aunt’s attention. “What is it,
Aunt Lilly?”
Lilly brushed her hand over the journal again. “Caleb said
he left the day Rebecca was murdered, June eighteenth, but he
arrived here over six weeks earlier, May the second.”
“So?”
“If what Rebecca wrote in one of the earlier journals is
true, the days Caleb spends here are counted in minutes in the
past.” Lilly opened the book to the first bookmark and handed
it to Becci.
Obadiah and the stranger who came to see him fell through
the portal today. They were only gone a few minutes, yet
Obadiah claimed they’d stayed three days. Thankfully Obadiah
had had the medallion in his pocket and was able to return.
His friend, however, didn’t come back. I fear the stranger has
taken the other medallion with him. When Saul and I
questioned Obadiah further about his travels, we learned that
he’d nearly frozen to death in those three days. It might be
spring here but he’d landed in Raleigh in the dead of winter.
“There’s a time difference,” Becci murmured. “It’s like a
hole—time gets sluggish as you climb to the future, and when
you return you land practically at the same moment you left.”
“There’s more. Turn to the next page I have marked.”
Becci glanced at Lilly then turned to the page and read.
Obadiah tried to find his friend again today. It’s been
nearly a month since he fell through the portal. Obadiah
thought he knew what to expect, but this time he felt no pain
and didn’t use the whiskey he’d taken with him. Obadiah said
he spent a whole month looking for his friend, yet he returned
the same day he’d left. Saul and Obadiah think the weather
might change the time frame. They think it’s best not to travel
during a storm.
“You know what this means, don’t you?”
Becci nodded. “Caleb can’t save Rebecca and Luke.”
“He’s been here three weeks—twenty one days. He may
have stayed here too long to catch the real murderer, too,” Lilly
added.
“What are we going to do?”
Before Lilly could answer, someone tapped on the back
door. Becci grasped Lilly’s arm and gave it a gentle squeeze. It
had to be Caleb. She wasn’t expecting anyone else.
Becci hurried to the back door with Lilly close behind.
She placed her hand over her heart to slow its rapid pounding
which the thought of seeing Caleb had created. Her excitement
plummeted when she saw Michael standing on the steps, his
hands shoved in his pockets and a smile that looked more like
a sneer curling his lips.
“What’s wrong? Why are you here?”
“Is that any way to treat a friend?”
He entered uninvited and leaned down to kiss Becci. She
turned away just as his mouth would have touched hers. “You
haven’t answered my question.”
“We have a problem. Fix a pot of coffee, and I’ll tell you
about it.”
Not another problem!
Becci headed for the kitchen, started the coffee and dropped
into one of the chairs. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m afraid there has been a mistake on the date for your
party. Instead of next Friday, it’s going to be tomorrow night.”
“Tomorrow! Impossible,” Becci said, panicked. They
couldn’t possibly prepare everything in one day.
“If you can’t get ready for the party, I guess we’ll have to
cancel. They can’t rebook until sometime in the fall—October
or November—and there won’t be any aid available then.”
“Surely we can set up something else on a different day.
I’ll take a day’s vacation.”
“Sorry. As I said, it’s tomorrow night or not at all.”
Becci’s hopes died. Without that grant, she wouldn’t be
able to open her nursery. She’d lose Berclair Manor. And
without Caleb here to help, she would never be able to pull the
party together.
“I can’t be ready that soon. I don’t get paid until next
Thursday. I have to buy the food, and...and we have to finish
painting. I can’t.” She fought back tears.
“I’ll tell Mr. Latham to withdraw your application then.
I’m sorry. Really sorry. I figured you’d be anxious to complete
the sale now that you know you won’t be receiving the grant,
so I brought along the papers for you to sign.”
She stared at the pen. Over the last few weeks she’d begun
to think she might win this time, but she’d been wrong. She’d
have to sell. She didn’t have a choice. Her hand shook as she
reached for the pen Michael held out to her.
“Don’t sign anything yet.”
Becci’s heart leaped at the sound of Caleb’s voice. She
looked up and saw him standing just inside the small alcove.
His face looked flushed, and his eyes had a feverish glare.
He hadn’t left her.
“I can finish the painting before nightfall, and I’ll move
the rest of the furniture into place tomorrow morning.” Caleb
smiled at her with that cockeyed smile that she’d gotten so
used to seeing. “The house will be ready for the party tomorrow
night.”
Lilly glanced from Becci, to M
ichael and then to Caleb,
but she didn’t speak.
Neither did Caleb as he waited for Becci’s answer. He knew
what he was asking Becci to do might be next to impossible,
but he had to give it his best shot.
“The food might be a problem,” he said when Becci didn’t
speak. “If you two could cook up some ham, bacon, eggs, and
rolls I think we can whip this party into shape and be in our
dancing shoes at least an hour before the party begins. I already
know what I’m wearing.”
“You?” Ascott scoffed. “This is by invitation only, and I
don’t recall putting your name on the list.”
Silence hung like damp moss on a rainy day. Caleb shoved
away from the door frame and crossed to the sink.
The moment of truth had arrived. Would Becci inform
Ascott that she had not only invited him, but made him the
host for the evening? He kept his back to them. While waiting
for Becci to speak, he turned on the faucet to wash the grime
from his hands. The rush of water invaded the gaping silence
as the seconds ticked by.
Caleb opened the cabinet and pulled out a cup. The door
banged closed, and the sound cracked louder than a rifle blast.
Why wasn’t she speaking? He rubbed his thumb over the
back of his swollen hand. He’d been stung in at least six places,
but he was lucky. A couple more stings, and he would have
more than a little fever and a few welts to show for his outing.
Caleb reached for the coffeepot. The glass container
clattered against its plastic base. Still, Becci remained silent.
He carefully set the decanter back into place. Her unspoken
declaration gave him the answer he needed. She would retract
her invitation and let Ascott be the host.
It didn’t matter, Caleb told himself as he clutched the edge
of the sink.
The hell it didn’t.
Whatever she decided, he would work hard to make sure
the party went on without a hitch. He would do this one last
thing for Becci, even if it meant losing her forever.
Fourteen
Becci flicked her gaze over Michael, the ever-tidy, whitecollared
businessman, who stood in the middle of the room.
When Caleb had entered, Michael had taken the pen and slipped
it and the papers back into his coat pocket while casting a
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