Across the Winds of Time

by Bess McBride

  “Hey, I know! As long as Darren is already staying at the house and likes Victorian homes, why don’t you just marry him? That way he can keep up the house. And I’ll bet he makes beautiful babies...” Sara sighed with a backward glance.

  I jerked my head toward my sister and lost control of the wheel. Luckily, I’d already been driving slowly on the dusty country road. I slammed on the brake before the passenger front tire went into a drainage ditch.

  “Molly! What is the matter with you?” Sara shrieked as she braced herself on the dashboard. “You just about ran us off the road.”

  I gripped the wheel and froze. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking. I turned to look at you and then...zoom...there went the car. I must have jammed on the accelerator.”

  “Well, good gravy, calm down.” Sara tightened her seat belt and eyed me with a frown. “It’s a good thing there’s no other traffic on this road. Do you want me to drive?”

  I shook my head. “No, no. I’ve got it.”

  “Okay, well, let’s go. Turn your wheel to the left so you don’t run us into that ditch.”

  “Stop being so bossy!” I barked as I pulled back onto the road.

  “Well, learn to drive better.”

  “Fine!”

  “Fine!”

  We looked at each other, though I only took my gaze from the road for a split second, and started to giggle. That exchange had always signaled the end of an argument for us, and I was glad. I hated fighting with Sara.

  We pulled up to Nesbitt’s store. Sara ogled the old brick building.

  “Well, this sure isn’t what I had in mind when you said hardware store. No chance they have fabulous carpets and great lamps for me to gawk over while I wait for you to do your business?”

  I wrapped an arm around Sara’s shoulder, still feeling the sting of snapping at her...and still in shock over the irony of her innocent teasing comments.

  “No, I don’t think he’s got any room for all the good stuff. Pretty much just tools, nails, nuts and bolts. I don’t even know if he has to order the lumber from somewhere else. Probably.”

  Sara paused. “Why are we buying this stuff again? Isn’t Darren supposed to be doing all of this as the contractor?”

  I couldn’t quite remember myself. My lies had become so convoluted.

  “Oh!” I remembered with relief. “It’s because his van is in the shop.”

  “But why didn’t he just come with us to place the order? Isn’t it easier for a contractor to do that than you?”

  Sweat broke out on my forehead.

  “Ummm...because he needed to stay at the house and work with Mr. Cooney.”

  “Oh, that’s right.” Sara grinned and followed me into the store.

  “So, what can I do for you today, Molly? Are you ready to order those supplies?” Bob stood behind a small dented and nicked wooden counter that looked as if it were original to the building.

  “Hi, Bob. Yes, I am. This is my sister, Sara.” Sara gave him a brief wave before she wandered off to inspect the small store.

  “I have a list here. Are you ready?”

  “Well, why don’t you just leave it with me, and I’ll get to work on it right away? I might have to order some stuff. Could get it delivered by tomorrow maybe.” Bob reached for the list, but I had anticipated that.

  “You know I would, but the contractor’s handwriting is really hard to read.” I squinted at the paper. “I’ll just read it off to you, if you don’t mind.”

  “I’m sure I can read it,” he said with a faintly condescending smile as he reached for the paper.

  I snatched it out of reach and parried his thrust. At least, I suddenly felt as if I was fencing.

  “Probably not,” I said firmly. “I had to ask him to read everything for me again. Let me just read it off to you.”

  Bob sighed, and picked up a notepad lying near the old-fashioned cash register.

  “Okay. Shoot,” he intoned as one showing a great deal of patience.

  I read off the supplies while Bob wrote them down. I noted his occasional sighs and the odd shuffle from foot to foot—no doubt indicating I was putting him out by requiring his undivided attention, but I didn’t care. There were no other customers in the store, and I still hadn’t forgiven him for suggesting the house be torn down. I smirked and continued reading the list.

  Sara cruised by a few times, her hands clasped behind her back, looking as bored as possible.

  “Okay, that’s it—for now.”

  Bob dropped his pencil and stretched his fingers.

  “Well, that’s enough to get a real nice head start on a remodel. I’m going to have to call down to Council Bluffs and see if they have a few of these things. I’m not even sure they use some of these tools anymore. This contractor of yours... Not a fan of power tools?”

  I grinned. “Oh, I’m sure he is. We’ll be ordering some of those soon.”

  Sara glided up to the front.

  “Ready?” she asked with a nod in Bob’s direction.

  “Sure,” I said. “Thanks, Bob. Call me about delivery.”

  “Sure thing, Molly. Nice to meet you, Miss.”

  Sara led the way out the door.

  “What’s this about power tools? Don’t tell me Darren doesn’t even have tools?” She lifted her brows.

  “Oh, well, yes. Well, no.” I thought fast. “You’re not going to believe this, but his tools were stolen from his van. Can you believe it?” I hurried toward the car. “That poor guy. So much bad luck.”

  “You’re right,” Sara muttered when she climbed in the passenger side. “I don’t believe it.”

  “Let’s drive down to Council Bluffs and pick up a few things for the house at the store. You know... Some new sheets and stuff. I need curtains,” I rattled on as I backed up onto the quiet street.

  “Sounds good! We’ll have lunch there.”

  “Great!”

  “I still think there’s something very fishy about your contractor, Molly. He may be a dreamboat and charming as he can be, but no car, no tools, and strange clothes worry me.”

  “He comes recommended,” I said with finality. “So, I was thinking long, lace curtains for the upstairs bedrooms. White. What do you think? Oh, and I guess I should get a second bed. For guests...” I beamed at Sara and turned onto the local highway toward the interstate.

  We spent an enjoyable afternoon picking out linens and accessories for the house, sisterly jibes and giggles abounding. I fretted several times that I hadn’t had a chance to let Darius know we would be gone all day, but then I remembered that Darius and I were at an impasse...estranged for the moment. My shoulders slumped at the lonely thought. I did my best to shove it to the back of my mind in Sara’s lively presence, and I picked out things I hoped Darius would like.

  After a stimulating day in the city, we pronounced ourselves ready to return to the house and rest our weary feet.

  I turned to pull into the driveway, and hit the brakes, throwing Sara slightly forward for the second time that day.

  “What is it now?” Sara glared at me.

  I stared at the driveway. The electrician’s van was not there. In its place was a long, dark town car. And on the porch, seated comfortably on the pillowed wicker furniture, were Laura and Cynthia, along with a smiling Darius.

  “Oh, you’ve got visitors. Those are the two ladies you bought the house from, right?” Sara’s calm voice normalized everything.

  “Yes,” I said shortly. “What are they doing here?”

  I caught Sara’s curious look out of the corner of my eye.

  “Well, I’m sure they just stopped by to say hello and see how you’re doing. Just being nice, you old hermit. You’d better drive up there, or they’ll think they’re not welcome.”

  I gave Sara a startled look.

  “Oh, dear, I am being rude, aren’t I? And they’re so sweet.”

  I pulled the car forward slowly, catching an odd flash of a pale blue fr
om the porch.

  “Besides, it looks like Darren has been entertaining them.”

  I gritted my teeth. Would the older women recognize him? Even without his mustache?

  “I’ll get the bags later,” I murmured as I parked alongside the town car.

  “Well, I see he finally found a change of clothes,” Sara snorted.

  Chapter Twelve

  With my gaze riveted on Darius, I tripped on the first porch step. A change of clothes, indeed! My jaw gaped. He relaxed in one of the easy chairs, ensconced in a fairly snug-fitting pair of blue jeans. Light brown work boots and a faded light blue denim long sleeve shirt completed his look—that of a modern day man. Apparently, the clothing we’d ordered had been delivered.

  I grabbed the handrail to steady my steps. He looked magnificent in modern day clothing, and I dreaded the day he would disappear from my life.

  “I’m afraid we stopped by without calling,” Cynthia called out. “I know that’s rude. But we met Darren here, and he’s been very hospitable.” She beamed. “We’ve just been hearing his plans for renovation of the house.”

  I opened and closed my mouth. Cynthia, Laura and Darren each savored a glass of lemonade and looked to be on the best of terms. The blue of Darius’s shirt enhanced the color of his eyes. I dragged in a steadying breath. Darius smiled pleasantly, but his eyes failed to sparkle when his gaze met mine.

  “No, no, I’m glad you stopped by.” I turned to Sara. “Here’s my sister, Sara. You met when I bought the house. She’s staying with me for a while.”

  “May I get you a cold lemonade?” Darius offered as he rose. I ran my eyes up and down his tall, handsome frame, and I dropped into the nearest chair, due mostly to my weakened knees.

  “Sure, that sounds good,” Sara said as she took a white wicker chair.

  Darius didn’t wait for my answer before he went inside.

  “Darren said you’ve been shopping. I think he was expecting you back earlier.” Laura, who’d been watching Darius enter the house, turned back to us. I cringed. Did she recognize him?

  “We went down to Council Bluffs and bought some things for the house. I didn’t tell Darren how long we’d be.”

  Cynthia glanced over her shoulder toward the front door and leaned forward to whisper.

  “He certainly is a handsome fellow, Molly. Where did you find him?” She waggled her eyebrows.

  My cheeks flamed. “He’s just here to remodel the house. It seemed easier if he stayed here while he was doing it because he lives in Council Bluffs—I think.”

  I ignored Sara’s sharp look. Swimming in a confusing sea of lies, I didn’t know which end was up.

  “Well, you need to find out if he’s married, Molly,” Cynthia twittered. “You don’t want that one to get away.”

  “He’s not married,” Sara affirmed. She drew her brows together and turned to me. “Is he?”

  “Cynthia, leave the girl alone. Maybe she’s not in the market for a romance right now.” Laura shook her head and eyed me with sympathy.

  I pressed my lips together, wondering if heads really could explode. It certainly felt like mine would at the moment.

  “Who doesn’t love romance?” Cynthia mused with a dreamy look in her faded sky blue eyes.

  The screen door opened, and Darius returned, setting two lemonades on the small glass-topped white wicker table in the center of the group.

  “Thank you, Darren,” Sara said. I mumbled something similar.

  “You are welcome.” He reclaimed his seat.

  “Well, Molly ordered the supplies for the renovation this morning,” Sara said after a sharp look in my direction.

  “Oh, wonderful! Maybe we’ll get to see some of the restoration before we leave next week.”

  “I am sure you will, ladies. I hope to begin as soon as the materials arrive.”

  “Some of them should be delivered tomorrow. Did the plumber come?” I swung a quick look in Darius’s direction.

  “Yes,” Darius nodded. “He came. The task was more than he anticipated, and he will have to return tomorrow with more supplies.”

  “Oh.” I couldn’t hide my disappointment. I was ready to do some laundry. “And Mr. Cooney? Did he finish?”

  “He’s a good guy. Done lots of work for us over the years,” Laura interjected.

  Darius nodded. “Mr. Cooney came and went. The electrical wiring has been updated. I can show you later, if you like.”

  I nodded and looked away, devastated by the polite but blank look in his eyes when he spoke to me. I would have done anything to bring back the love that made his eyes sparkle. Anything, except...

  “I was just saying to Darren before you arrived that he looks a bit familiar, doesn’t he, Laura?” Cynthia chimed in. “Maybe like an actor?”

  I froze. Sara cocked her head with interest. “Really?”

  A dull red flush crept up Darius’s face. He dropped his gaze for an instant and raised a self-deprecating hand.

  “Please, ladies. I have never aspired to the stage in my life. I am a simple carpenter.”

  “No, I think someone in the movies,” said Laura as she cocked her head and studied him.

  “Moovees?” Darius repeated the word slowly. I shot him a warning look, but his attention was on Laura.

  “What about that one actor? The one in that one movie set in... Where? It was a western. A romance.” Laura turned to her sister. “You should know, Cynthia. You love romances.”

  “I don’t know which one you’re talking about, Laura dear, but I can see Darren as the lead of a romantic western.” She beamed again while he fidgeted in his seat.

  “Would you like to see what we got for the house today?” I piped in with an overly bright smile. “Why don’t I just go get our bags and then you can tell me what you think of our rugs and curtains and stuff? Could you help me, Darren?”

  I jumped up with an urgent look in Darius’s direction. He rose without hesitation and strode down the porch to the stairs.

  “Well, this is getting awkward,” I mumbled under my breath as I opened the trunk.

  “I admit to feeling somewhat...inspected. It is as if my...nieces...seem to know what I look like?” He ducked under the trunk hood to reach for bags.

  “Of course, they know what you look like, Darius. I told you there was a photograph of you in their box of family photos. You still had the mustache, of course, so I think they haven’t recognized you...yet.” An imp urged me on. “And Cynthia practically swooned over it...if that’s still a word today.”

  Darius lifted his head and hit it on the hood.

  “Ow!” he muttered, rubbing a spot on his head with his free hand. “Swoon, indeed,” he fumed.

  I crossed my arms. “Oh, yes. Cynthia has had a crush on you for years. As did her mother.”

  A dull red stain colored his cheeks. “Good gravy!”

  “I’ll say,” I muttered.

  Darius straightened with all of the bags, and I grabbed several from him.

  “I was thought to be quite homely in my youth,” he murmured.

  I turned to eye him, modern in clothing but still Victorian in speech. “I find that hard to believe.” I stalled. “Are you all right with all these questions from the women? Is there anything I can do to help?”

  Darius met my gaze. The flat expression in his eyes almost brought me to my knees.

  “I am holding up reasonably well. I can manage. It is not for too long at any rate.”

  He turned and moved away.

  “Darius, please,” I whispered almost to myself.

  He paused. His back stiffened, and then he stepped forward without a backward glance.

  I looked skyward for a moment, my hands too full to attempt to wipe my eyes. As soon as the quick tears receded, I plastered a smile on my face and hurried back to the porch.

  An hour later, the ladies left, and I announced I was going to make supper on the new stove that was now functional—according to Darius.

  �
�What do you think about grilled cheese sandwiches? I may not be much of a cook, but I can whip a few of those up!”

  Sara looked up from the kitchen table where she read a magazine and sipped a cup of fresh coffee from the newly purchased coffee pot.

  “Sounds good.”

  “Dariu-Darren?” I called. He had gone into the basement, and the door stood open.

  I heard his footsteps on the stairs. When his head emerged, I marveled again at how charming he looked in modern day denim.

  “Would you like a grilled cheese sandwich for dinner?”

  Darius wiped his hands on a rag.

  “Grilled cheese?”

  Sara’s head lifted. I winced.

  “Do you mean melted cheese?”

  “Haven’t you ever had a grilled cheese sandwich?” Sara asked.

  “Yes, yes, of course. We called them melted cheese in our house.” Darius wiped his hands more vigorously. “Yes, that sounds lovely. I will be downstairs. Call me when supper is ready.”

  He made a hasty escape, and Sara turned to me.

  “Is it just me, or is there something distinctly odd about that man?”

  “Hmmm?” I turned away and bustled about in the kitchen, pretending not to hear. I relished the increased brightness of the lighting with the new wiring, but at the moment, I could have used a little more shadow on my face.

  “Nothing,” Sara muttered. I stole a glance at her from under my lashes. She continued to stare at the empty door leading to the basement with a frown marring her usually happy face.

  To his credit, Darius bit into the sandwich as if he’d been eating them all his life. He didn’t scrunch his nose or bat an eyelash when he tasted the processed American cheese—a product I was certain did not exist in the late nineteenth century. He happily snacked on the potato chips which accompanied his sandwich, pausing often to wipe his fingers on a paper napkin.

  I watched Sara watch Darius but relaxed when I saw that Darius had the situation under control. He’d become quite the expert at subterfuge—as had I. I kept my attention on my food, unwilling to see Darius go through the pretense of smiling at me without really smiling.

  Hours later, I still lay in bed wide awake, thinking about Darius and wishing I could creep downstairs to see him. I imagined marriage to him and all the complications that process might involve such as birth certificates and identification. I continued to shy away from any thoughts of children though, still unable to cope with the unknown.