The Bride Price

by Tracey Jane Jackson

  “I’ll give you some privacy.” Christine rose from the piano.

  Jamie nodded to her in thanks as she made her way out of the room. He turned back to Sophie with a tormented look on his face, and she reached out to touch his arm, but he deflected the contact and walked over to the window. Sophie waited for him to speak, knowing he was working things out in his mind.

  “I have strange dreams, snippets of memory, I think. But no sense of what they mean,” he whispered.

  “What kinds of things have you been dreaming?”

  Staring out the window, he didn’t speak for several seconds. “I see a woman in a wedding dress and she’s walking towards me, but her face is covered with a veil.” Resting his head on his arm leaning against the window frame, he continued, “I see the same woman rolling a stocking down her leg, and I feel so blessed to have her, but I still can’t see her face. There’s a young man sitting in a chair. He’s getting something painted on his chest, a tattoo I think, and I’m laughing at him.”

  “Lucas,” Sophie whispered as she made her way to stand behind him.

  “Lucas?”

  “Your best friend.” His head dropped slightly, and Sophie resisted the urge to wrap her arms around him. “Do you believe me at all? Do you think you can try?”

  He faced her. “I honestly don’t know what to believe, Sophie.”

  “I know another way to prove that you’re Jamie.”

  “How?”

  Sophie laid her hand on his chest. “You have a tattoo of a horseshoe, just above your heart. You and Lucas got them together.”

  He slowly unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it open just over his heart. “How did you know about the tattoo?”

  “Because it’s you, Jamie. It’s really you.” She placed her hand on his chest.

  His eyebrows knitted together in a frown. “I don’t understand.”

  “Neither do I fully but somehow, we have been brought to the same place.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I don’t know why you can’t remember.” Sophie sighed. “You’re James William Ford, you’re twenty-eight years old, and you’re my husband. You got that tattoo two weeks before our wedding. The scar on your hand was from slicing tomatoes and not paying attention. The woman rolling the stocking down her leg is me, and that was our wedding night.” Sophie smiled in memory. “It was such a perfect wedding, Jamie. The man you see in your dream is your childhood friend, Lucas...Luke. He married my best friend, Alex, and the four of us went on a cruise for our honeymoons.”

  He pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head.

  Sophie squeezed his arm. “There’s so much to tell, but I don’t want to overwhelm you with information. You may have forgotten, but I remember every little detail.”

  She moved his hand away from his face and pulled his head down for a kiss. This wasn’t the sweet, gentle kiss of the last couple of days. It was a kiss of desperation, passion, and promises of many more things to come. She moved her hands over his stomach and back up to his chest, relishing in the familiarity, yet overcome with brand new desire.

  Sophie groaned when he broke the kiss, her breathing labored as she dropped her head onto his chest. His arms tightened around her. “That was unexpected.”

  “That’s one way of putting it, I suppose.” Sophie glanced up at him. “Can I please start calling you Jamie?”

  He raised an eyebrow. “What’s wrong with James?”

  She sighed. “It’s what I call you when I’m mad at you.” She grinned. “And, I’m so not mad at you right now.”

  “I wish I could remember.”

  “Don’t push it. I know who you are, and I know you’ll remember eventually.” She smiled gently. “And in the meantime, we get to explore a whole new relationship with each other.”

  He stroked her cheek. “You may call me Jamie.”

  “Thank you.”

  Jamie kissed her quickly and then stepped away. “I should get back to camp.”

  “I’ll walk you out.” Sophie escorted him through the foyer and onto the front porch.

  “I think tomorrow is going to be a really long day. Would you like me to join you for lunch? I’m not sure if I’ll be able to break for very long, but I’ll take whatever time I can.”

  Sophie smiled up at him. “I’d love that.”

  Jamie pulled her into his arms for a lingering kiss. “I’ll try to watch for you when you visit Samson tomorrow.”

  “You noticed?”

  Jamie chuckled. “You’ve been consistent with your schedule.”

  Sophie grinned. “I’m stuck in my ways, I’m afraid.”

  He kissed her forehead and then left for the Union camp. Sophie walked back inside and poked her head into the library. “He’s gone, Christine, do you want the low-down?”

  “I don’t know what that means, but I’d like to know what’s going on.”

  Sophie squealed with excitement and pulled Christine in for a hug. “Oh, Christine, he’s back. He’s really back and I’m going to make him remember everything. I can’t believe I have him in my arms again. It’s a miracle.”

  “Well, I have all night for you to tell me about, because Mama is staying with a friend. I told Nona I’d stay here tonight.”

  “Cool!” Sophie said.

  The girls went upstairs and got ready for bed. It was a modern day pajama party in an old-fashioned era. Sophie wouldn’t have traded it for the world. She felt so blessed that she had her husband back and had found a family she loved.

  * * *

  Sophie woke to darkness. Another vivid dream made returning to sleep impossible, so she slid off the mattress and pulled the curtains back. Still dark. She peered out the window and her gaze went to the arena. A lamp was burning by Richard’s barn, and she could see men milling around.

  She stared out past the training area, the white tents of the soldiers scattered over the terrain looking so similar to when she did reenactments. Even down to the occasional yellow flickering from a lantern lit inside or the cherry of a hand-rolled cigarette.

  Grabbing a robe, she slipped it on and stepped into the hallway. The clock next to the guestroom read midnight.

  Great. Too early to get up, and way too late to find something to do.

  Stepping back into her bedroom, she stared back out the window and chewed on her thumbnail. After several minutes of watching a few of the soldiers close up the barn and douse the lamps, Sophie flopped onto the window seat and pulled her knees up to her chin. Men’s laughter floated up to the window and she was drawn to a small group standing by the outside paddock. Jamie.

  He stood with three of his men and he appeared to regaling them with some kind of a story. They laughed and his hands moved like an honorary Sicilian as he talked. Sophie laid her cheek on one of her knees and watched.

  It wasn’t long before he shook his head and made a sweeping motion with one of his hands, causing the men to move toward the tents. Jamie paused and turned to glance up at her window. She didn’t know if he could see her, but she smiled anyway. In the end, he shoved his hands in his pockets and made his way toward the tents along with his men.

  Sophie straightened. She was done waiting. With a racing heart and shaking hands, she dressed quickly, sans corset, and snuck out of her bedroom and downstairs. She had a plan, and it would require seduction. She needed something sweet. Nona had a greenhouse just off the kitchen, so she gathered two oranges and made her way out to the tents. She knew in theory which one was James’, but she’d never walked out here before. She was usually riding, and had the advantage of being up high, giving her a better vantage point.

  Oh, for the love and glory be. Which one are you?

  The occasional snore could be heard as she passed the tent flap openings, trying to notice any unique markings of the tents.

  One of those wooden signs with an etching that said, “The Fords, established 2001” on the outside would do nicely right about now.

  An arm wrapping aroun
d her waist and another covering her mouth, brought her back to the present and she let out a squeal, although the large hand pressing a little harder muffled it.

  * * *

  Jamie had heard the swish of skirts and peeked out to see Sophie roaming the aisle between the tents. She wasn’t very good at subterfuge, and he couldn’t decide if he was irritated or intrigued that she’d sought him out in the middle of the night.

  “Sophie, what are you doing out here?” She relaxed immediately, sinking her back into his chest. He released her and turned her to face him. “It’s past midnight, and it’s not safe for you to be anywhere other than the house after dark,” he admonished in a whisper.

  She held up one of the oranges. “I woke up and couldn’t go back to sleep. I thought you might want an orange.”

  “Come with me.” He led her to one of the tents she’d just passed, and held the flap open for her. She dipped low and stepped inside.

  Jamie lit the lantern that sat on a small table in the corner, but kept it low. Still, there was enough light to see each other relatively clearly.

  “Don’t you have a cot or something?”

  He shook his head as he closed the flap and secured the ties. “No.”

  Sophie set one of the oranges on the table and started to peel the other. “It’s not as bad as I imagined for a Civil War dwelling. At least you have blankets and a couple of chairs.”

  Jamie faced her. “Sophie. Will you tell me why you’re out here? I’m assuming that since you’re offering me an orange, there’s no emergency.”

  She raised a finger and waggled at him. “Don’t be so sure, Jamie. There are plenty of citrus based emergencies.”

  He crossed his arms. “Name one.”

  Sophie bit her lower lip. “Scurvy?”

  He dragged his hands down his face. “Sophie.”

  She offered him a wedge of orange. “Want some?”

  “No, thank you.”

  Sophie raised an eyebrow and sucked the slice through her lips and let out a quiet moan. “Heaven.”

  His stomach clenched as he watched a small drop of juice linger on her full lips. Her tongue darted out to lick it off. She smiled and handed him another wedge. “Have some. It’s perfect.”

  He took the orange from her but didn’t eat it right away. “Sophie, you need to go back to the house.”

  “Do I?” she whispered as she set the rest of the orange on the table and slipped the buttons from her blouse.

  “Sophie, what are you doing?”

  “Getting comfortable.” She pushed her skirts from her body. “Much better.”

  “Put your clothes back on.”

  “I’m fully covered.” She lowered her head and checked her appearance. “Chemise, pantaloons, stockings, and slippers. This is more clothing than I ever wore at home.”

  Dropping his head back, he stared at the low ceiling before taking a deep breath and meeting her gaze again. “This is entirely inappropriate, Sophie.”

  She shrugged. “Sue me.”

  Her lace chemise slid off one creamy, white shoulder.

  “Sophie, we’re not in private.” He groaned as he turned his back. “We’re not even in a place with a locking door.”

  “I. Don’t. Care.” She sighed. “More orange?”

  He shook his head, but caught her smile as she popped another piece in her mouth. He turned around and stared at the tent flap.

  “You’re being gallant.” Sophie giggled. “How about you turn around?” He shook his head. “I have a surprise for you. Turn around. I won’t bite…well, not unless you want me to.”

  He turned and swore. Sophie stood before him in nothing but stockings and garters. He turned away again.

  “Sir?” a quiet voice whispered from outside of the tent.

  “Jack?” Jamie advanced on the tent opening.

  “I heard arguing, sir.”

  Jamie sent a glare over his shoulder at Sophie. She grinned and popped another orange wedge in her mouth.

  “Go back to your tent, Jack.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Jamie pinched the bridge of his nose, but still fought the urge to look at her. “Get dressed.”

  Sophie moved to stand at his back. “You don’t get to escape, love.” She pulled his shirt from the waistband of his trousers. “I’ve waited a long time for this, and I don’t care what you do and don’t remember, I want my husband back.”

  He squeezed his eyes shut and groaned. “Sophie. Don’t.”

  “Don’t, what? I’ll stop as soon as you say you don’t want this.” She slid her hands around the front of him and her hands slipped under his shirt.

  Jamie clenched his fists at his side. “I won’t do this.”

  “Why not?” Sophie kissed his neck.

  Jamie tried to stay her hands. “Sophie, this is highly inappropriate.”

  Sophie chuckled. A low, throaty sound that made several muscles tense—muscles he didn’t realize he had. In parts of his body he’d never really paid much attention to before. She kissed his back, in between his shoulder blades. “I don’t care if it’s inappropriate. I have certain needs.”

  Her tiny hands had now slipped up his back and she raked her nails gently over his skin. A low growl escaped between his gritted teeth. “Sophie.”

  “I want you naked, Jamie. I have been patient up till now, and I’m done being patient.”

  He squeezed his eyes shut with a grimace. “I don’t remember you as my wife, Sophie.”

  “Oh, you’re going to remember, baby. I have no doubt. Now, turn around.”

  Turning to face her, he rasped, “Are you sure you want to do this? Even if I don’t remember? Even if your reputation will be compromised?”

  Her eyes, hooded with desire, seemed on fire as she smiled. “Surer than I have been about anything.”

  Reaching behind his back, he pulled his shirt over his head and then cupped her face and leaned down to kiss her. He slid one hand around her waist, pulled her body closer to his, and intensified his assault. He knew now that he was too far gone to do anything but make love to her. Laying her down on the makeshift mattress, he stroked her cheek.

  “Make me yours again,” she whispered.

  As he made love to her, his visions began as a flash. The square pattern on a blue door, his hand knocking, and it opening to reveal the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. The hallucination brought the memory of her disappearance and the confusion and devastation that followed.

  “Shh, baby, I’m right here.”

  He registered her voice cutting through the fog, and her fingers wiping wetness from his cheek. He pulled her closer and wrapped a blanket over her shoulders. “Sophie.”

  “What do you remember?”

  “Flashes more than memories. You disappeared from our bed. You had wires attached to your body, but they were still there…everything, even what should have been inside of you.” His voice shook as he relayed the night she disappeared. “I thought someone took you and that you were without your LVAD—” He grabbed his head, the pain sudden and excruciating.

  Sophie laid a hand on top of his. “Don’t force it, Jamie. It’ll all come back. Just give it time.”

  “I don’t understand.” He flopped onto his back, pulling her with him. “I don’t know what I’m missing.”

  “Let me fill in some of the blanks.” She ran a finger over his chest. “I was born in the year 1981, you were born in the year 1979. We met in 2000 and were married in June of 2001. In 2006, I was diagnosed with a failing heart. The last thing I remember was lying in our bed with you by my side. That was January 31, 2007.”

  “Over a hundred years in the future?”

  Sophie sighed. “Yes.”

  “How is that even possible?”

  She shrugged. “No idea.”

  Jamie nodded. “And Emma. My sister?”

  “No.” Sophie gasped quietly. “My sister. You remember her?”

  Jamie frowned. “Sort of.”

&nb
sp; “Don’t try.” Sophie ran her palm across his cheek. “I need something other than your memory right now.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  The next morning began with a flurry of activity. Sophie was so excited she hadn’t really been able to sleep. Jamie had snuck her back to the house at close to three, and spent another hour saying goodnight.

  Up and dressed by eight o’clock, despite not having gone to sleep until dawn, Sophie rushed downstairs, decided to wait to eat breakfast, and made her way to the stables instead.

  Samson was being used constantly for training, and as girlish as it might seem, she missed what she had become to think of as her horse. With great anticipation, she rounded the corner into the barn but stopped short. Richard was leaning against Samson’s stall, obviously waiting for her to arrive.

  “Richard.” She moved slowly towards him. He said nothing, just stared straight through her. “Richard, are you going to give me the silent treatment, or are we going to talk?”

  He looked terrible. He hadn’t shaved, his eyes were bloodshot, and he looked two sheets to the wind. “I’m guessin’ there’s not much to say,” he grumbled, his southern accent heavier than she’d heard it before.

  “Then why are you here? You know I come every morning to see Samson, so it can’t be a coincidence that you are in your neighbors’ barn, next to the horse that I visit every chance I get,” Sophie said exasperated.

  “Damn it, Sophie. You’re mine. He can’t have you.”

  Sophie stepped back, slightly nervous at his anger. “Richard, I never said I was yours or made a commitment. You know how I feel about Jamie. I have always been his and now that he’s back, I plan to do whatever it takes to stay with him.”

  Richard glared as he advanced on her. He pushed her roughly up against one of the stall doors and leaned down to kiss her. She fought him but he wouldn’t let her go.

  “Stop, Richard. You’re drunk. Please don’t do this,” she whimpered.

  “You’re supposed to be mine. One way or another, I am going to make you mine.”

  “Get your hands off her,” Jamie ordered.

  Richard turned, his forearm still firmly across Sophie’s chest. “What the hell are you going to do about it?”