Christopher, Barbara - Keeper of Key.txt

by Keeper of Key. txt (lit)

  mended areas. The material surrounding the rips had a faint,

  dingy stain that only showed when the light hit it at a certain

  angle. The spots were nothing more than could be expected for

  clothes more than a century and a half old.

  Becci glanced at her watch. Caleb would meet her at the

  foot of the stairs in fifteen minutes, and they would inspect

  each other’s attire. She eased the dress on and slipped the tiny

  loops over each button. She pinned the cameo she’d found with

  the dress in place and glanced at her reflection.

  She ran her palm over the soft, silk skirt, then traced the

  mottled image in the cracked mirror. Somehow she knew

  Rebecca would approve. According to the journal, this had

  been Rebecca’s favorite dress—the one Caleb liked best. Becci

  brushed her fingers over the lace then lowered her hand to the

  dresser’s carved initial handles, feeling a close kinship with

  the long ago Rebecca. Rebecca had never seen the dresser Caleb

  had made for her, but Becci knew she would have loved it.

  A shimmer in the mirror caused Becci to look up, and her

  heart echoed in her ears. There was another woman’s reflection

  in the glass instead of her own. She felt the woman’s anguish,

  and Becci’s throat tightened over a sob.

  I only wanted him to find happiness. He has, but now he

  must return to the sorrows of my life—not for me, but for Luke.

  It was a woman’s voice echoing in her mind. The wavering

  image in the mirror was oddly like Becci’s own image, yet

  different. Was it Rebecca? Was the voice also hers?

  He needs you, Becci, and if it were not for Luke I would

  relinquish Caleb to you. But I can’t. Please do not hate me.

  Becci drew in a shaky breath. How could she let Caleb

  go? Didn’t Rebecca know that she loved him and needed him,

  too?

  “Caleb will be there for Luke,” she told the reflection. “He

  feels strongly about his promise, and not even I can make him

  break his word. My love is not enough to hold him.”

  Becci covered her eyes to block out the other woman’s

  image. “This is crazy.” She lowered her hands and faced the

  mirror again. Her own image stared back at her and reflected

  the tears that pooled in her eyes. She was sure she’d been

  hallucinating, that she’d dreamed up the other Rebecca’s image

  as well as her words. It was her subconscious’ way of making

  her face the truth.

  Caleb would never be hers.

  Feeling as if her heart would break in two, she repaired

  her makeup, slipped her watch from her wrist and laid it on the

  dresser. She wanted everything from the top of her head to her

  toes to look perfect, even if life with Caleb could never became

  a reality. At least the memories he took back of her would be

  good ones.

  The clock struck seven. With one last glance in the mirror,

  Becci headed for the stairs. She stood at the top and drew in

  several deep breaths as she heard the door to Aunt Lilly’s room,

  where Caleb had chosen to dress, open and close. The sound

  echoed through the silent house. Then Caleb’s shadow fell

  across the polished, wooden floor. Becci descended the stairs

  one step at a time. Her foot hit the last step just as Caleb rounded

  the corner.

  They stopped, several feet still separating them. The sight

  of him took her breath away. The stirrup pants molded to his

  thighs like a second skin and outlined every masculine detail.

  With a flourish, he flipped off his top hat and bowed. From top

  hat to tails and down to his sharp-toed dress boots, he created

  a picture of elegance. Even the cravat looked right on him.

  He wore that cocky grin that she loved, and excitement

  sparkled in his eyes as his gaze drifted from her toes upward.

  His grin assured her that he was equally approving of her.

  Suddenly his grin disappeared. With deliberately slow

  steps, he closed the distance between them. A mixture of

  disbelief and pain flickered in his eyes.

  What had she done to hurt him so badly?

  Fifteen

  Becci held her breath as Caleb raised his hand to the cameo

  and traced the ivory border.

  “I gave this to Rebecca to celebrate Luke’s birth. She had

  it on the last time I saw her. In fact, she...she was dressed exactly

  as you are now.”

  Shock rifled through Becci. Slowly she placed her hand

  on the cameo nestled on the dress’ ruffled neck. She touched

  each button lining the bodice front. As she let her hand fall to

  her waist, she lifted her eyes to Caleb’s.

  Pain swam in the depths of his blue eyes. It made her

  wonder if his relationship with Rebecca had really been one of

  friendship and nothing more.

  “Rebecca wore the cameo the day she died.” Becci spoke

  the thought aloud, a chill shaking her.

  Her hand went to the stitched slit. If Rebecca wore this

  dress on that day, then the mended area and the faded marks

  weren’t just incidental rips and watermarks. They were grim

  reminders of Rebecca’s death, and a crude attempt to remove

  the blood that had once soaked the dress. Becci felt weak. With

  her free hand, she clutched the stairs’ newel cap to steady

  herself.

  “Don’t you mean, the day I killed her for her gold?” Caleb

  asked softly.

  He closed his eyes to block out the accusation that he

  instinctively knew would be evident in her eyes. She really did

  think he’d killed Rebecca. She’d found him guilty without

  asking him one question. It usually didn’t matter to him what

  others thought, but in this case he felt like a knife had been

  thrust into his chest and twisted.

  When she didn’t respond to his question, he opened his

  eyes and nervously rolled the brim of the top hat between his

  hands while he studied her. She’d gone pale.

  “Are you sure Rebecca was wearing this dress?”

  Caleb nodded slowly. “Yes. I’m sure.”

  Becci swayed and reached out for support. Caleb placed

  his hand on her elbow to steady her, then quickly released her.

  She looked vulnerable, and he wanted to protect her.

  “I have many dark secrets in my life, Becci, but murdering

  Rebecca isn’t one of them.”

  Her lips parted in protest, and he touched the tip of his

  finger to them to stop her reply. It was a mistake. Just the feel

  of their softness against his skin made him want to haul her

  into his arms.

  So inviting. So tempting.

  Caleb had to swallow hard before he could force out the

  words. “Lilly showed me the last page of Rebecca’s diary. The

  one where Obadiah wrote that he believed I killed Rebecca

  and stole her gold. I know you’ve read it, too.”

  Becci nodded. The motion created a tantalizing sensation

  where his finger still rested on her lower lip. She should tell

  him that she knew he didn’t kill Rebecca—tell him of Rebecca’s

  appearance in the mirror and her plea for Becci to send him

  back. But
she couldn’t. If she confessed to having contact with

  Rebecca, he would leave. And she didn’t want to lose him. Not

  yet.

  Caleb’s gaze rose to hers and then dropped back to her

  mouth. Slowly, he lowered his hand. His words were barely a

  whisper in the quiet entry hall.

  “Rebecca and Saul befriended me when others turned their

  backs. When Saul died, I promised to look after Luke and

  Rebecca. I love Luke as if he were my own, and I…I have

  promised to wed Rebecca. As for the gold, I believe there may

  be some here, but I’m not sure where it is. Rebecca did give

  me a medallion—the one that I drew the picture of and showed

  you. I’m sure the medallion is still in the house, and you know

  that once I have it I’ll be leaving.”

  She opened her mouth to respond, but he again lifted his

  hand to her mouth and brushed his thumb across her lips. The

  friction had her trembling like a girl waiting for her first kiss.

  Not sure she could stand up a moment longer, she caught the

  long skirt, lowered herself to the bottom step and patted the

  vacant space beside her.

  Caleb settled the top hat on his head and ran his palms

  over the upturned brim. He glanced at the door then back at

  Becci. He should leave. Run like he’d done before. Something

  told him that if he sat down beside her, it would only make it

  harder for both of them when he had to leave her.

  But instead of running, he joined her.

  She kept her gaze straight ahead. Her tongue flicked over

  the area his finger had just rested. He glided his knuckles down

  her cheek and then captured her chin and turned her face to

  his. Her eyes were brimming with curiosity, fear and...desire.

  As he stared at her, her lips parted, inviting him to taste

  them. Covering her hand, he threaded his fingers through hers

  and tried to ignore her entreaty. He had to tell her his story. She

  had to know the truth.

  “The day the journals claim Rebecca died, I delivered the

  dresser which is upstairs in your bedroom. I planned to ask her

  to be my wife that day. I wasn’t sure she would accept, my past

  being what it is.” He pulled his hand from hers and leaned

  forward, his elbows on his thighs.

  “Jacobs came with me that day. He was the last person to

  see Rebecca alive. What happened next is as much a mystery

  to me as it is to you. One minute I was pushing the dresser into

  Rebecca’s bedroom, and the next minute I was in yours. But I

  swear to you, Becci, I didn’t kill Rebecca. I’m not a violent

  man.”

  Becci inched over until their thighs touched. Then she rested

  her hand on his and squeezed lightly. Slowly, he let his gaze

  meet hers again. A jolt of heat surged through him at the

  understanding reflected in her eyes.

  He bent forward to claim her lips, but she turned away. He

  closed his eyes and ran his hand over his face. He’d misread

  her expression. She didn’t want his kiss—didn’t want him. But

  he couldn’t move away.

  Becci groaned inwardly when she glanced back at Caleb.

  His defeated express told her he thought she was rejecting his

  kiss because she thought he’d killed Rebecca.

  “Caleb, to use a phrase you’re so fond of, it’s not what you

  think,” she assured him. “I don’t think you killed Rebecca. I

  know you wouldn’t kill without just cause, but you did tell me

  several days ago that you’d killed someone. I can’t believe the

  Caleb Harrison I knew would do such a thing. I…I have to

  know what happened about the man you claim to have killed.”

  As much as she needed to know his story, she had trouble

  concentrating. A fraction of an inch separated them. If she

  leaned forward at all, their lips would touch.

  “I did kill a man, Becci,” he said, his words a feathery

  breeze against her lips.

  He was so close his features were blurred, and Becci could

  detect his unique masculine scent, combined with the soap he’d

  used.

  “Was it Elizabeth’s lover?” she whispered, leaning toward

  him.

  He turned and braced his back against the wall. Lifting the

  top hat, he raked his hand through his dark hair and then

  replaced the hat. His blue eyes flared with anger, and then filled

  with a bleak sadness that tugged at her heart. He angled his

  head to one side and stared at her. The grandfather clock in the

  parlor counted the seconds with a loud, pulsing beat.

  Neither of them spoke, and the silence lengthened, creating

  a tension that sent a wave of awareness bouncing between them.

  Would he explain his fiancé’s death? Could she believe what

  he said?

  Yes. One thing she’d learned over the past few weeks was

  that Caleb Harrison didn’t hide from the truth.

  “How did you find out about Elizabeth?”

  “I…I read about her in your Bible.”

  “You accused me of snooping. Is what you did any

  different? What’s written in there is private, as is what is written

  in my journal. Did you read that, too?”

  Becci shook her head. “No, I didn’t. The Bible was in my

  things when you arrived. You brought the journal with you

  when you came.”

  The image of the tattered book lying beside the Bible came

  to mind. She’d known it held Caleb’s innermost thoughts, but

  she hadn’t even considered reading it.

  He didn’t respond for several minutes, and she thought

  he’d decided not to tell her the story. Then he stated bluntly,

  “Elizabeth was a working woman. She sold herself to live. I

  mistook her desire for me as love. Being a bastard, I believed

  that we were well suited for each other.”

  He paused and drew in a deep breath, then said, “She

  promised she would stop selling herself once we were betrothed,

  but I caught her...working. Stripped down to her frilly

  pantaloons and rocking above another man with more fierceness

  than she’d ever shown me. She was my woman, and she brought

  another man to my tent. Yes, in a fit of anger, I could have

  killed her, but I didn’t. I did kill him, but not intentionally.”

  Caleb closed his eyes and tilted his head back against the

  wall. The vision of Elizabeth, her dress discarded and her lithe

  body thrusting against a stranger, wouldn’t leave him.

  Wearily, he opened his eyes. “The man heard me cock my

  rifle. He shoved Elizabeth at me, and I dropped my rifle when

  I grabbed for Elizabeth. The rifle hit the ground and fired at

  the same time as the man’s gun. My bullet killed him. His killed

  Elizabeth. She...she died in my arms.”

  “You loved her.”

  He didn’t think Becci wanted an answer, yet he needed to

  give her one. “I thought I did. But in an instant that love turned

  to hate. What counts most is what’s in here.” Caleb tapped his

  chest with one finger. “I thought Elizabeth only sold herself to

  survive, that she was a good woman. She wasn’t. She’d

  promised to stop selling herself th
e day we became betrothed.

  I learned later that she never stopped.”

  His voice was emotionless as he continued. “I swore I

  would never trust another person, man or woman.” Caleb shifted

  on the step, rested his elbows on his thighs and clasped his

  hands beneath his chin. “Until I met Saul and Rebecca, I kept

  that promise.”

  Becci rested her hand on his shoulder. She had sensed from

  the very beginning that something kept him from trusting

  anyone. Now she understood why.

  “Saul and Rebecca? You trusted them?”

  “Yes, and they trusted me. But I failed them. I came here,

  Rebecca died, and I have no idea what happened to Luke.”

  Becci wished she could soothe away his hurt. “You didn’t

  fail Rebecca, Caleb. What happened was beyond your control.

  You didn’t purposely break your promise, and there’s a chance

  you can right what happened. Go back and...and save Rebecca

  and become Luke’s father. I know that’s what you want to do.”

  Becci could see the pain in his blue eyes, and the crooked

  grin he flashed at her didn’t have its usual spark. “Is that what

  you want me to do?”

  She brushed a stray curl off her forehead and took a

  fortifying breath.

  “I guess it’s time to tell you my reasons for selling the

  manor,” she said ignoring his question.

  “This wasn’t a trade off, Becci. I know you need the money

  to pay bills.” His cheeks flushed. “I found all the past due

  notices in the trash last week. I wasn’t snooping.”

  “Sure. You always go through people’s trash,” she stated

  dryly, but she couldn’t summon up any anger. She been curious

  about him, and it only made sense that he’d be just as curious

  about her. “But you’re right. I need to sell to pay my bills and

  my college tuition. I’ve wanted to go to college since my

  freshmen year of high school.”

  Caleb knew she was lost in thought when she paused and

  caught her long braid, twisting it around her finger. “I even set

  up a college savings account with my baby-sitting money. What

  I didn’t know was that as fast as I put the money in, my dad

  was taking it out. Later he told me he’d done it for my own

  good, that he’d used the money to put food on the table. You

  know,” she said turning to look at him, “I believed my father.