A Husband in Time

by Maggie Shayne

  She shook her head, and rainwater flew from her hair as she struggled against the hands that held her shoulders. “Let me go! My son is in there! Cody! Cody!”

  But there was no give in the man’s grip. He held her firm, despite the pouring rain and all her struggles, and she stopped fighting as her knees gave out. She sank to the muddy ground in anguish, sobbing, unable to take her eyes from the fire.

  Men had formed a brigade; a crooked line of bodies leading to a nearby stream, where the roiling water reflected the red-orange horror like a mirror. Buckets were filled and passed, hurled on the fire and passed back down. She had no clue where the buckets had come from. Nor did she care.

  “This spot. Here, where Zachariah went in!” someone shouted. “Douse this, men, so he can get back out alive!”

  Zach was inside? God, all three of them, trapped in that hell of heat and smoke?

  In the buggy, the woman who’d driven Jane out here sat stone-still. Paralyzed, in shock, perhaps. She didn’t cry out or sob, as Jane was doing. Only sat there, staring, and the light of the fire was reflected in those huge, dazed eyes.

  Jane looked at her for just a moment, before her gaze was drawn back to the burning barn that might be devouring her child even as she sat here, safe and helpless. The man holding her eased his grip as she listened for Cody’s screams. She didn’t hear them.

  Then she surged to her feet, free, and raced around the side of the building, slipping in the mud, fighting for footing and then lunging onward. The place the men were soaking in water was a charred oval. Gray smoke spiraled from its blackened edges. And Jane aimed for that opening, with every intention of rushing through it.

  A small form stopped her just before she reached the hole. A small, precious, oh-so-familiar shape that stumbled out of the death trap and slammed into her. Small, strong arms snagged her waist, and a grimy face pressed to her belly.

  “Cody!” Jane fell to her knees again, in relief this time, sobbing anew, holding him tight.

  “Mom…Mom, I was so scared!”

  She cradled her son to her, unable to let him go even if she’d wanted to. But her gaze returned to that gaping black hole as she waited, holding her breath.

  Seconds ticked by like hours. But finally Zach stumbled through, his son cradled in his arms. Kneeling, Jane stared up into his eyes. And he stared down into hers, his face sooty, his hair singed. He shifted Benjamin to one side, freeing a hand to reach down to Jane. She took it, and Zach pulled her to her feet, turned her and quickly drew her and Cody away from the building. Not stopping until they reached the road.

  “Doc Baker!” he shouted. “Someone find the doctor!”

  “I’m here, Zachariah. Right here.” An elderly man elbowed his way through the crowd and gently took Benjamin from Zach’s arms. “I’ll see to him, son. There, now. He’s alive. He’s alive, Zach. Don’t go fainting like a woman on me.”

  “I wasn’t planning to.”

  Doc handed the boy off to someone else. “Get him into my buggy. This one, as well,” he said, nodding to Cody.

  Cody clung to Jane’s hand, hard enough to break the bones, she thought, as he stared at the unconscious younger boy. He turned to Zach, who stood on the other side of her. “Ben’s going to be okay,” he told Zach. “I’ve given him two doses already, and in a little while it’ll be time for—” As he spoke, Cody dug his hand into the pocket of his jeans. Then he froze, eyes going wide as saucers. “The pills! Oh, no, the pills are gone! They must have fallen out of my pocket when we—”

  “Zach, no!” Jane cried, but it was no use. Zach was already bolting back toward the burning barn, leaping through the hole, which was once again ringed in fire.

  The doctor swore. Cody cried. The men who surrounded them shouted. But it was too late—Zach was gone.

  “Mom…”

  Jane shook her head, hugging Cody once more. “I want you to go back to the house with the doctor, Cody.”

  “But Zach—”

  “There’s nothing more you can do here, sweetheart. Please. Go with him. You need to get warm and dry, or you’ll end up as sick as Benjamin is. Besides, he might need you when he wakes up.”

  Cody shuddered and stared for a long moment at the blazing barn. “Mom, I don’t want Zach to die. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. I only wanted to help Benjamin….” He hugged her hard, clung to her in the pouring rain.

  “He’s not going to die. I promise. And none of this is your fault, Cody.” She bent down and kissed his soot-streaked face. “Please, go, so you’ll be safe. Take care of Benjamin. That’s what Zach would want you to do.”

  Cody sniffed and stiffened his spine. “Okay. I’ll go. Promise you won’t go in after him, Mom.”

  “I promise.”

  Cody nodded, hugged her once more, and then climbed into Doc’s waiting buggy. Benjamin was lying on the seat, so Cody sat on its edge, and took Ben’s hand in his. “You’re gonna be all right, Ben,” he told him. Doc gave her a nod. “I’ll take good care of your boy, ma’am. You see they bring Zachariah along the second they get him out. You hear?”

  “I will.”

  “If I get the lads settled in before you bring him back, I’ll return here. Though I sadly fear that if it takes that long, all will be lost.” He studied her through narrowed eyes. “What is this ‘medicine’ the boy lost in there?”

  She lowered her chin, shook her head. “I… It’s experimental, Doctor. That’s really all I know.”

  “Funny Zachariah didn’t mention it to me before,” the man muttered, turning to his buggy and climbing aboard. He gave the reins a snap, and the vehicle rolled away. Jane moved forward.

  The bucket brigade was going full force again. Two men had gone inside after Zach, and Jane waited, praying silently, as tears slid down her face. “Be all right, Zach,” she whispered. “Please, for the love of God, be all right.”

  There was a crash as the roof gave way. Flaming boards fell to the ground, sending showers of glowing embers into the night. Men jumped back, one of them pulling Jane with him. As the barn caved in on itself, she saw three dim outlines near the opening. And then they were gone.

  The sparks whispered to the ground, and the flames that had leaped skyward lowered again, carrying what remained of the building with them. Jane raced forward to where she’d seen the three—or thought she’d seen them—hopping over flaming bits of debris. Two of the men were already struggling to their feet, crying out in pain as they beat their smoldering clothes, and then staggering away. The third remained where he was, half buried in rubble. And Jane went to him, frantically throwing charred wood from his back, burning her hands and not caring.

  “Help me!” she screamed, and only then did several others surge forward to finish the job and lift Zach’s still body from the mud and rubble. They carried him to the road, laid him on his back there. One bent over him for a moment as Jane joined them there.

  Then he straightened, looking at all of them, slowly shaking his head. “It’s no use. He’s dead.”

  Eleven

  “No!” Jane screamed the word, pushing past the men who surrounded Zach’s still body. Her hair was stuck to her face, and dripping wet, her jeans muddy to the knees, her shirt soaked. Her running shoes were caked in mud, and she imagined she looked like some kind of crazy woman to most of them. But she didn’t care. “Get out of the way! Let me through!”

  “I’m sorry, ma’am. We all cared for him, but it’s no use. He’s gone.”

  Jane fell to her knees beside Zach as the rain pummelled her back and shoulders and pounded down on him, rinsing away the mud and soot from his still face, beading on his face and pooling in the corners of his closed eyes. She pressed her fingers to his throat, but felt no pulse. She laid her face against his lips, but felt no breath. Then she slipped one palm beneath his nape, lifting slightly, and she tipped his chin back with her other hand. She pinched his nose and covered his mouth with hers, and she blew air into his lungs.

  “
Land sakes, woman, you oughtn’t be kissing on a dead man thataway!”

  “He’s gone, ma’am. Best to let him be, now.”

  She lifted her head briefly, then blew again. And then again. Someone touched her shoulder, as if to pull her away.

  “Leave her alone!” a strong female voice said. And Jane knew it was the woman who’d come here with her. Benjamin’s mother. And the tone of anguish in her voice left no doubt in Jane’s mind. She still cared for Zach. “Can’t you see she’s trying to help him?”

  Jane ignored all of them and positioned her hands over Zach’s chest. Counting silently, she pressed down, once, twice, over and over. Then she breathed into his mouth. And then she pumped again.

  “Get her off him!” a man shouted. “It’s unnatural, what she’s doing!”

  Again hands came to her shoulders, tugging her back this time. And again that female voice, the one she knew belonged to the woman Zach had loved, interfered.

  “Get your hands off her, or I’ll shoot.”

  Startled, Jane turned, and saw that beautiful, fragile-looking woman, standing there in the firelit night, with rain dripping from her velvet hood, pointing a tiny pistol at the man nearest Jane.

  “All of you, back off. Now!”

  Slowly the men backed away, shaking their heads and muttering. “She’s plumb lost her mind,” one man said. “They both have.”

  Jane didn’t waste a second. She bent over Zach again and continued the CPR. She pumped until her arms screamed for relief, and then still longer. “Please, Zach,” she muttered. “Please. We need you, dammit.”

  Finally she felt a soft beat against her hand when she laid it over his heart. She lowered her head to Zach’s chest and dissolved in tears of relief.

  Zach drew a raspy breath, then another, and then he coughed. His hands came up, found her head there, and his fingers wound in her hair, holding her to him.

  The group of bystanders had gone utterly still. Some crossed themselves, while others swore aloud, and still others only gaped.

  “Jane,” Zach whispered.

  She lifted her head to stare down into his eyes. He licked his lips, tried to swallow. Jane pressed her palms to his cheeks, and kissed him gently, slowly. Her tears dampened his lips, and when she lifted her head away, he licked them again.

  “I got them,” he rasped. “I got the pills.”

  She closed her eyes. “I never doubted you would,” she told him.

  “Let’s get him back to the house,” someone said, and it seemed the words jerked the others back from their stunned state of confusion.

  Jane rose, allowing them to lift Zach bodily.

  “Put him in my buggy,” Claudia ordered, and the men obeyed her as if they might be quite used to doing so.

  Jane followed, climbing in without an invitation. And Claudia came in after her. She took the reins, shook them, and the wheels rolled to life. The buggy bounded and bounced over the muddy road, making sucking sounds and splashing its way back toward the house as the rain pattered down on its top. Jane sat beside Zach, clinging to his hand.

  She wondered what on earth she’d done, how she’d let it happen. She hadn’t realized the truth until she was bending over him, realizing he might very well die there in the mud. She’d fallen in love with another man who would leave her alone in the end. A man who thought of women the way he thought of a good meal. Something he enjoyed while he could and then thought no more about. At least…that was the way he thought of most women. With one notable exception, she thought, with a sidelong glance at Claudia. Jane had lowered her guard, somehow, and let a sweet-talking womanizer waltz out of the past and straight into her heart.

  And she knew, without a doubt, that when he waltzed back out again, he’d leave nothing behind but shattered bits.

  There was something soft petting him like a cherished pet. Over and over it smoothed through his hair, across his face. Slowly, hypnotically. Zach inhaled, half expecting to get a lungful of acrid smoke for his trouble. Instead, though, he breathed the sweetest perfume this side of heaven.

  The feminine scent of Jane Fortune.

  Jane? Stroking him like that?

  Very cautiously, Zach opened his eyes, just a crack. Enough to peek out and see her without letting her know he was awake just yet. And what he saw surprised him. She was sitting in a chair beside him—he was, apparently, in his own bed. But she looked so…soft. Vulnerable. There was an ache, a longing, in her eyes, utterly unveiled. No masks right now. Not when she thought no one could see. It was all right there, on her face. And it rocked him, because he’d never seen it quite this clearly before. Probably because she kept it so well hidden.

  Tenderness. Caring. Need. And, God, the loneliness.

  He turned toward her, reaching out, compelled to do so, before he gave it a second thought. Jane’s reaction was to stiffen, and draw away. A mask slammed down over her face in the blink of an eye, hiding that caring, heartsick Jane away behind it. Probably for her own protection, he thought. Dear God, for a moment there, she’d been looking at him as if…

  No. That was impossible. Perhaps he’d been hallucinating.

  “Jane,” he whispered, searching her face even as she averted it and tried to swipe her tears away without him seeing. He smiled at the effort. So he hadn’t imagined it, then. “Too late, Jane,” he said, though his voice was coarse as tree bark. “I already saw you crying.”

  “I’m not crying,” she told him.

  “No. And you haven’t been sitting here, touching me and stroking my head, either, have you?”

  “Of course not. You’re delirious.” She got out of the chair, her movements jerky and quick, and poured a glass of water from a pitcher. “Here. You’re probably thirsty.”

  “Thank you, Jane.” He took the glass, drank deeply, and watched her watching him. Her eyes focused on his throat as he gulped the water down. When he was finished, he set the glass on the nightstand. He absently licked his lips, and then froze as her eyes flared wider. She quickly looked away as her face went red.

  He glanced past her at the window, and was surprised to see no droplets beading the pane. Just darkness, stark and unrelieved. “What time is it?”

  “I don’t know. Well after midnight, at least.” She scanned his puzzled face and went on. “You were unconscious for a few hours, Zach. I think it was a combination of the side effects you were already suffering from and the smoke of that fire.”

  “I’ve slept that long?”

  Smiling slightly, she nodded.

  “And how are the boys?” he went on.

  “Cody’s okay. Tired, but okay. I set up a cot for him in Benjamin’s room. He didn’t want to leave him.”

  Zach shook his head slowly. “That’s one special boy you have there, Jane.” Then he frowned, and swallowed hard. “And what about Benjamin? How is my son?”

  “The same,” Jane told him. “I’ve given him another dose of tryptonine, but it’s too soon to see any real improvement yet. Tomorrow, though, he’ll start to feel better.”

  Zach grinned, unable to help himself. “Everything is going to work out. It will—you’ll see.” She looked doubtful, but Zach couldn’t rid himself of the feeling of optimism that had decided to overwhelm him. Not only was his son going to be fine, but Miss Jane Fortune was showing signs of…caring. And that, for some reason, made him feel almost giddy. “And where is everyone now, Jane?”

  Her brows rose. “Asleep, of course.”

  “Of course,” he repeated. “Asleep. All except for you. You hold a vigil at my bedside, devoted as a lovesick young wife would be.”

  “Don’t be stupid, Bolton.”

  “Don’t be stubborn, Jane,” he replied. “At least admit the truth. Why is it so difficult for you to say it? You care about me, Jane. And you want me, too. Every bit as much as I want you. You know you do. You haven’t stopped thinking about what it was like…what it could be like again, if we—”

  She lifted her gaze, locked it with his. �
��Unlike some lower life forms I could name, I do not act on every physical craving.”

  He smiled at her, sitting up. “You…you’d call it a craving? You crave me, Jane?”

  “Go to hell, Zach.” She whirled to stomp away, but Zach caught her wrist, and slowly drew her back around until she faced him. He pulled her nearer, until her thighs touched the mattress, and then kept pulling, until she had no choice but to sit down on its edge.

  He scanned her face, wishing he knew why she denied her feelings so vehemently. “Do you hate me, Jane?” he whispered, searching those blue eyes.

  “Of course not.”

  He couldn’t have told it from her tone, or the look in her eyes, though. He lowered his head, suddenly, and began to cough. He coughed until he doubled over, until he fell back against his pillows in exhaustion. Until his skin was coated in a thin sheen of sweat and his lungs felt as though they would burst.

  And she was leaning over him, swiping his forehead and neck with a cool cloth, pushing her fingers through his hair. “Zach, easy. Relax. That’s it.”

  Weakly he looked up at her. Now she looked as if she cared again. A second ago she’d looked at him like an assassin. Now her eyes were wide with concern, and her touch was as tender as a lover’s. “I don’t understand you,” he managed to whisper.

  “So who said you had to understand me?” She dabbed at his brow again. “Dammit, Zach, are you all right?”

  He closed his eyes, nodded.

  “I don’t believe you. Twice through the damned twilight zone, and then nearly killed in a fire. How much more do you think your body can take?”

  He lifted a hand, cupped her nape and drew her closer. Gently he brushed a kiss across her lips, and he knew she didn’t object to it when her eyes fell closed. “Climb into this bed with me, Jane, and we’ll find out,” he whispered, and then pressed his lips to hers again.

  Only this time she jerked away so fast she almost yanked him out of the bed and onto the floor. Her eyes flew open wide, and flashed with an anger so hot it nearly seared him. “Damn you, Zachariah Bolton!”