Linda Lael Miller Bundle

by Linda Lael Miller

  Rue thought of Farley and wondered if he was worried about her or if he’d even noticed she wasn’t around. She sighed. “Don’t you ever get scared? I mean, if a thing like this can happen, it changes everything. We’re like players in some game, and none of us knows the rules.”

  Elisabeth turned to meet Rue’s eyes. “They say that realizing how little we truly understand is the beginning of wisdom. But I’ve got a handle on this much—when you love with everything that’s inside you, you take a terrible risk. I’m vulnerable in a way I never was before I knew Jonathan and Trista, and, yes, that scares me.”

  Reaching into her pocket, Rue found the necklace and brought it out, dangling it from her fingers. “Here’s your ticket out,” she said. “If you don’t want to be vulnerable, all you have to do is go back home.”

  Elisabeth actually recoiled, her blue-green eyes round. “This is home,” she said. “For heaven’s sake, put that thing away before something awful happens.”

  Rue smiled and hurriedly dropped the pendant back into her pocket. After her experience in the jailhouse at lunchtime, when she’d seen one world taking shape on top of another, she was still a little shy about holding it for too long.

  “Then I guess you’ve decided the risk is worth taking,” she said, taking a place on a settee, resting one elbow on the arm and propping her chin in her hand. “Don’t you miss it, Bethie? Don’t you ever wish you could see a movie or eat frozen yogurt in a mall?”

  Elisabeth moved to the fireplace and stood looking down at the fire on the hearth. “I miss hot baths,” she said, “and supermarkets and books on tape. I don’t miss traffic jams, jangling telephones and the probability of one marriage out of two biting the proverbial dust.”

  “Would you want to go back if it weren’t for Jonathan and Trista?”

  Bethie thought for a long time before answering, “I’m not sure. Things are difficult here—the old saying about a woman’s work never being done certainly holds true—but there’s an intensity to life, a texture, that I never found in the twentieth century. I feel as though I’ve come home from some long journey of the soul.”

  Rue sighed. “Well, I guess this completes my mission,” she said. “I can go home now.”

  Elisabeth looked alarmed. “Oh, please say you’ll stay for a few days, at least. After all, once you leave…” She paused, lowered her head for a moment, then finished bravely, “Once you leave, we may never see each other again.”

  “I can’t stay,” Rue said miserably. She reminded Elisabeth how the power of the necklace seemed to be changing, how she no longer needed to step over the threshold to return to her own century, how she’d seen images of the orchard in the middle of Farley’s office that day.

  In typical Victorian fashion, Elisabeth laid spread fingers to her bosom. “You’re right,” she said. “You mustn’t take the risk. Do you suppose it’s possible for a person to end up in another time period entirely, or another place? Say, medieval England, or Boston during Revolutionary days?”

  “I’m the wrong person to ask, Bethie,” Rue answered. Her heart was aching at the prospect of leaving her cousin and, she could almost admit it to herself, of leaving Farley. “I don’t have any idea what laws govern this crazy situation, or even if there are any. Maybe it’s covered by Einstein’s Theory of Relativity or something.”

  Elisabeth’s beautiful eyes were glazed with tears. “A day won’t go by that I don’t think of you,” she said. “Oh, Rue, I want you to be as happy as I am. Will you try to go back tonight?”

  Rue thought of Farley. “Yes, but there’s something I have to do first,” she said. She glanced at the clock on the mantel, then at the darkened windows. “Oh, my gosh! I forgot I was supposed to get married!”

  “What?”

  Rue was hurrying toward the front door. “I wasn’t really going to marry Marshal Haynes,” she babbled. “He just thought we should because we’ve slept together and everything.” She pulled open the door and would have bolted out into the starry night if Elisabeth hadn’t caught her firmly by the arm.

  “Now just a minute!” Rue’s cousin protested. “You can’t just go traipsing off to town through the dark of night! And what’s this about your sleeping with Farley?”

  Rue sagged against the doorjamb, heedless of the biting chill of the November night, and she began to cry. “I’m in love with him,” she whispered brokenly, then sniffled. Her eyes found Elisabeth’s worried face in the dim light of the moon and the glow of lanterns from the parlor. “I’m not like you, Elisabeth. I can’t stay here—I can’t be happy in a place where there’s no UPS, no PBS, no CNN!”

  Elisabeth laughed and put an arm around Rue’s shoulders. “Come in and sit by the fire. I’ll brew us a pot of tea and we’ll work out this whole problem.”

  When Jonathan returned an hour later, Elisabeth and Rue were no closer to a solution. However, the doctor had brought a surprise along with him, a coldly angry Farley Haynes.

  “The justice of the peace came and went,” Farley said when Jonathan had taken Elisabeth’s hand and led her out of the room so that Rue and the marshal were alone. He rested his hands on the sides of her chair, effectively pinning her between his arms.

  Rue studied Farley’s craggy, handsome face fondly, trying to make a memory that would last for all time. “I’m sorry, Farley,” she said, touching his beard-stubbled cheek with one hand. “But I’m not the girl for you, and you wouldn’t be happy with me.”

  Farley set his hands on either side of her waist, stepped back and hauled Rue unceremoniously to her feet. The necklace slipped to the floor, with a chink that seemed to echo throughout eternity, and she bent to grab for it. The marshal’s hand tightened around her upper arm, as though he thought she might try to escape his hold, and then it happened.

  There was a wild spinning effect, as if the parlor were a merry-go-round gone berserk. Colors and shapes collided and meshed. Rue, hurled to the floor, wrapped both arms around Farley’s right leg and held on with all her strength to keep from being flung into the void.

  “Jumpin’ Juniper,” Farley said when the wild ride subsided.

  Rue couldn’t let go of his leg, but she did look around, seeing that while they were still in that same parlor, the furniture was different. There was a TV in the corner with a VCR on top.

  “What the hell just happened here?” Farley whispered. Rue had to admire his cool. She was trembling as she shinnied up his thigh and finally stood on her own two feet.

  She wanted to laugh, hysterically, joyously. She was home, and Farley was with her. On the other hand, she would probably never see Elisabeth again, and that made her want to weep.

  “You’ve just aged almost a hundred years,” Rue said, resting her forehead against Farley’s shoulder and almost automatically slipping her hands around his waist. “I’ve got a lot to show you, Marshal Haynes, but first I’d better give you a little time to absorb the shock.”

  Farley went to the television set and touched one of the buttons. The head and shoulders of a late-night talk-show host appeared on the screen in an instantaneous flash of light and color.

  The marshal recoiled, though only slightly, his wonderful, weathered face crumpled into a frown. “Where’s the rest of that fellow?” he demanded. Before Rue could reply, he tapped the screen with his knuckles. “I’ll be damned. It’s a picture.”

  Rue set the necklace on the mantelpiece. Suddenly, she was filled with pizza lust and the yearning for a long, hot shower. She went to the telephone and punched out a number.

  “One large pepperoni with extra cheese, sausage, green peppers and mushrooms,” she said. Then she gave the address and hung up.

  Farley had left the television to examine the phone. He picked up the receiver and put it to his ear, as Rue had done, then handed it back. “It’s a telephone,” she said. “A later version of those big wooden boxes with hand cranks and chrome bells.” At his look of puzzlement, Rue added, “I’ll explain later. Right now, I’m pe
rishing for pizza.” She looked down at her Victorian clothes. “I’d better change or the delivery person will spread a vicious rumor that we’re having a costume party.”

  The marshal, who would certainly have carried off the prize for the most authentic getup at such a gathering, went over to one of the chairs and sank into it. He looked pale beneath his deep tan, and understandably bewildered.

  “Where are Mrs. Fortner and the doctor?” he asked. “What happened here?”

  “Listen, Farley,” Rue said, sitting on the arm of his chair and slipping one arm reassuringly around his shoulders, “it’s all pretty complicated, though if you’ll remember, I tried to tell you about it before. Anyway, it’s going to take a while for you to absorb the fact that this is really happening, let alone process a whole new universe. We just jumped a hundred years, you and I. Technically, Bethie and Jonathan are long dead. On the other hand, they’re alive and well on the other side of some kind of cosmic chasm we don’t understand.”

  “Thanks, Rue. That made everything clear as creek water,” Farley said wryly. He was clearly still unnerved, as anyone would have been, but that lethal intelligence of his was stirring, too. Rue could see it in his eyes, hungry, wanting to comprehend everything. “Am I losing my mind?”

  “No more so than I am, or Elisabeth. You just crossed from one dimension to another, somehow. All I know is that it has to do with my necklace.”

  “Good God,” Farley sighed, rubbing his chin.

  “Now you know how I felt,” Rue said, polishing his badge with the sleeve of her dress. After that, she stood again. “Since you’re company,” she teased, “you can have the first shower.”

  “The first what?”

  Rue laughed and took his hand. “Come on. I’ll show you.” She led the befuddled lawman up the stairs, along the hallway and into the main bathroom, reserving the one off the master bedroom for herself. There, she gave Farley soap and shampoo and showed him where to find the towels, then adjusted the shower spigots.

  Farley’s eyes went wide with puzzled amazement, but he was already starting to strip off his clothes when Rue slipped out of the room. She’d gotten only partway down the hall when a shout of stunned annoyance echoed from behind the door.

  Thinking she should have explained that one spigot brought forth hot water and one cold, Rue smiled. She hoped it was ice Farley had just doused himself with, and not fire.

  In the master bedroom, where all her things were still in the drawers and the closet, Rue had an urge to kneel and kiss the floor. She didn’t, however. She just laid out jeans, underwear, socks and a bulky, white sweater, then took a shower.

  The doorbell was ringing when she reached the upper hallway, and she heard voices roll up the front stairs.

  “Here’s the pizza, sir,” said a voice, teenage and masculine. “That’ll be fifteen dollars and seventy-five cents.”

  “For one flat box?” Farley boomed. “You’d better take your wares someplace else, boy.”

  Grinning, Rue hurried down the stairs. Farley was wrapped in a pink chenille bedspread taken from one of the guest bedrooms, and his freshly washed hair was standing up on top of his head.

  “It’s okay,” Rue said quickly. She paid the young man, took the pizza and closed the door. Then looking up at Farley, she started to laugh. With the bedspread draped around him, toga-style, all he needed was a wreath of laurel leaves on his head to make him a very convincing Roman. “Don’t tell me, I know. A funny thing happened to you on the way to the forum.”

  Farley was clearly not amused. “I’m in no mood for any of your fancy double-talk, woman,” he said, glowering.

  Rue opened the lid on the pizza box. “Mellow out, Marshal. This will fix you up—prepare to experience one of the best things about modern life.” She pried a gooey slice loose and handed it to him. “Go ahead,” she urged. “Eat it.”

  He took a cautious bite, tightened his bedspread toga with a nervous gesture of one hand and took another.

  “Good, isn’t it?” Rue said, talking with her mouth full.

  Farley answered by taking another piece.

  Rue had waited too long for this pizza to stand on ceremony. They went into the parlor and sat cross-legged on the floor in front of the empty hearth.

  “Bet none of the Pine River ladies ever brought you anything like this for dinner,” Rue said smugly.

  He lifted a slice to look under it. “Damnedest pancake I’ve ever seen,” he said in all seriousness.

  Rue’s attention had shifted to the bedspread. “We’re going to have to get you some clothes, big fella. I think you’re the button-fly-jeans type.”

  “I’ve got clothes,” Farley protested. Rue hoped he wasn’t going to pick now, of all times, to get stubborn.

  “Chenille bedspreads have been out of style for a long time,” she said. For Farley, the situation was gravely confusing, Rue knew that, but she couldn’t help being happy that the two of them hadn’t been separated. She would face the lingering pain of saying goodbye to Elisabeth later, and begin learning to live with it. She sighed. “Life is very complicated, Farley.”

  He glared at her, probably thinking she was a witch or a creature from another planet, that she’d deliberately uprooted him from the world he knew.

  “Okay, so maybe that was kind of an obvious statement,” Rue conceded. “I can’t explain what happened to you, for the simple reason that I don’t have the first idea myself. The fact is, you’re in the 1990s instead of the 1890s, and you can probably go back if you want to just by holding the necklace in one hand.” She started to rise to get the pendant from the mantel, but Farley stopped her by grasping her arm.

  “Will you go with me?” he asked hoarsely.

  Rue hesitated, then shook her head. “I belong here,” she said. If she hadn’t realized that before, she reflected, traveling back to 1892 had certainly cleared the matter up for her. She had a suspicion Farley belonged, too, because of his insatiable mind and progressive attitudes, but he would have to discover that for himself. It was not something she could decide for him.

  Farley swallowed hard, the last slice of pizza forgotten in his hand, and Rue knew he was making a costly decision.

  “I ought to go back where I came from,” he finally said. “There are things I left undone and people I need to say goodbye to. But, damn it, scared as I am, I want to see this place.” Farley gestured toward the TV set. “I want to see what other machines there are and how they work.” He reached out from where he sat and touched the dangling cord of a lamp. “And these lanterns. Does the kerosene come in through this wire?”

  Rue kissed his forehead. “You’ve got quite an adventure ahead of you, cowboy.”

  Farley finished the pizza, thoughtfully examining Rue’s jeans and sweater. “I guess women must dress like that here, then?” he inquired, and it was obvious that he didn’t wholly approve of the look.

  She nodded. “Chinese women have worn pants for centuries,” she said. “Here in the United States, the style didn’t really catch on until the Second World War.”

  “There was a war involving the whole world?” Farley’s eyes were wide and haunted with the horrible images of such an event.

  “There were two,” Rue said. “And all of us are praying like crazy that there’ll never be a third.”

  Awkwardly, Farley got to his feet, still carefully clutching the bedspread that preserved his modesty, and started toward the back of the house. “The privy still in the same place?”

  Again, Rue laughed. “The outhouse was filled in sometime in the thirties, Farley.” She wriggled her fingers to summon him to the downstairs bathroom, showed him how to flush. “There’s another one upstairs. I guess you missed it when you took your shower.”

  He whistled. “That’s one fine invention.”

  “Wait until you see what we can do with computers,” she countered, leaving the room and closing the door. She hung up Farley’s sheepskin coat, his badge still gleaming on the lapel, and gin
gerly set his gun belt on top of the highboy in the smaller parlor. Then she dropped his socks, trousers and shirt into the washer. He’d need something to wear while they shopped for contemporary clothes the next day.

  By this time, Farley was standing behind her, wearing just a bath towel around his middle now. Obviously, he was feeling a little more comfortable in the circumstances.

  “What is that thing doing?” he asked, frowning at the washer.

  Rue explained, and Farley grinned at the wonderment of such a thing, flashing his white teeth. He lifted the washer’s lid to look inside. The agitator promptly stopped.

  Rue closed the lid again and patted the top of the washer’s companion appliance. “This is the drier. I’ll put your shirt and pants in here after the washer stops, and they’ll be ready to wear in less than half an hour.”

  Farley looked mesmerized. “Will you teach me how to work these things?” he asked.

  “Count on it,” Rue agreed. She was a firm believer in training a man right in the first place. That way, maybe he wouldn’t be dropping socks and wet towels on the bathroom floor and leaving dirty dishes in the kitchen sink.

  Upstairs, she gave him a new toothbrush from the supply in the linen closet, along with a tube of paste. He was standing at the sink in the main bathroom, happily foaming at the mouth when Rue retired to the master bath.

  When she came out, Farley was sitting on the edge of the bed, still clad in the towel. Which was almost worse than nothing, because it sent Rue’s fertile imagination spinning.

  He discovered the switch on the bedside lamp and flipped it on and off three or four times before he was apparently satisfied that the same thing would happen ad infinitum, until either the mechanism wore out or he did.