by Tia Dani
Libby tried to imagine life during the early 1800's. So far, her visit to this century had been safe and comfortable, not apprehensive. But then, everything seemed more like a dream than reality.
Katherine lowered her ladle and stared out the window. She must have been thinking about her daughter, for she added, "Elizabeth always drew Matthew to her. She sensed his moods, made him laugh, and relax around people after his parents died."
Libby tried to visualize a small child drawing Matthew out of one of his funks. The man had moods blacker than Satan himself. "Elizabeth must have been a saint."
"In a way, she was." Katherine went to place the last of the unbaked pie shells into the oven. "I realize you're not too fond of Matthew, but you have to understand him a little. His life wasn't a happy one after his parents died. He missed them terribly. There was no way he could have saved them from the accident, but he always thought he could have. More than once, John tried to step in, to ease his guilt."
No wonder Matthew had stayed with Katherine all these years. She was like a second mother. Libby watched the woman return to the table and finish pouring glaze into the last crust. "He was very lucky to have you."
"Lucky?" Katherine dropped to a chair as if the memories exhausted her. "No, I'm the lucky one. Without him, I would have been lost after Elizabeth and John died. Matthew kept me going." She looked at Libby. "Matthew has a generous heart and genuinely cares about people. He deserves some happiness in his life."
Noticing the speculative gleam in Katherine's eyes, Libby held up a hand. "Whoa. Let's not get any ideas about my marrying Matthew. We discussed this yesterday, remember?"
"Yes, but I saw something in him last night I've never seen before."
"Like what?"
"I don't know. Something different."
The door slammed, and James tore across the room. "Are we gonna go to a dance at Mr. Abrams?"
Katherine sighed. "Honestly, James, can't you walk anywhere?"
"Nope! Are we goin'?"
"Yes, right after breakfast tomorrow."
"Oh boy!" James swung around and grinned at Libby. "Joseph says you're gonna turn the place into a tornado."
"I am?" Libby had no idea what James meant.
"Uh huh. He says every man from three states is gonna show up so they can dance with you."
"D...dance? Oh no." Libby's heart plummeted to the floor.
"What's wrong?" Katherine looked at her in confusion.
"I can't dance. At least, not the way you do."
She didn't know any 19th century dances. In fact, she didn't even know the music they listened to. But, one thing was certain. The Mashed Potato and the Twist didn't exist in this era. So far, in the 1960's, kids followed the beat and made up their own movements. She'd look like a freak.
Katherine didn't seem at all perturbed about Libby's announcement. She wiped her hands on her apron and stood. "Let's get the kitchen cleaned up." She turned to James. "Go find Tim. Tell him to stop what he's doing and bring his fiddle. And have Joseph to come too. We'll use him as a dance partner."
"Oh boy!" James headed for the stairs instead of outside.
"James," Katherine called. "I told you to go get Tim."
"I am, but first I'm gonna get my harmonica. I wanna play."
"Uh, Katherine..." Libby watched James disappear while she carried the finished pies over to the dry sink. "Do you think this is wise? Matthew won't appreciate having everyone stop working so I can learn how to dance."
"Pooh on what Matthew thinks. This is my farm, not his. Besides, he's not here right now, he's gone out."
"What's this about a dance?" Theo limped down the stairs with James one step behind him. In the boy's hand was a dented, old harmonica.
"I got it." he cried. "Now, I'll go get Tim and Joseph." Before anyone could say a word, James burst out the door.
"I swear," Theo said, dropping into one of the two empty chairs at the table. "That boy has more energy than a house afire."
"Did he wake you?"
Theo smiled at Katherine. "No, just reading." He smiled at Libby. "So, you're going to learn to dance, are you? It's about time you learned something other than stuff you young people call dancing back home."
Libby flushed, giving him a warning look. "Now's not the time to start comparing dance steps."
He laughed and leaned back in the chair. "Suppose you're right. By the way," he chuckled. "You've got flour on your face."
Libby reached up and rubbed it off with the apron she had borrowed from Katherine. "Yeah, thanks. I'd forgotten about it."
"There's some in your hair, too. What did you do, throw the stuff?"
"Just about." Libby laughed, brushing the flour from her hair. "It took me a while, but I got the hang of it."
Theo eyed the finished pies. "You make these?"
Libby nodded. "With Katherine's help."
"They look good." He dipped a finger in one. Before he had a chance to withdraw it, Katherine slapped his hand.
"Shame on you, Theo. You, a grown man, acting like a boy."
He chuckled. "I am a boy when it comes to pies. Helen used to make the best pies. She couldn't keep me out of them either."
Libby smiled, watching the two older people joke with one another. She enjoyed both of them tremendously. They seemed to radiate special warmth and love for the people around them. As much as she missed her mother, she had a unique bond with her dad. And Katherine was a lot like her father in personality. It explained why she was so at ease with the older woman.
"They're coming. Soon's they wash up."
James skidded to a halt in front of Libby and snickered. "You ready?"
She sighed. "I guess so." She looked around the kitchen. "Where are we going to practice?"
"Right here." Katherine started moving her chair off to the side. "It's a big enough area, if we move everything. James, drag the benches. Libby, get that end of the table, I'll get this end. We'll move it over to the side."
Theo laughed and grabbed the pie. "I'll take care of the pie. Wouldn't want it to fall off and get ruined."
"Of course not," Libby lifted her end of the table. "That's the last thing we need."
"Watch it, girl." Theo winked at Katherine. "You're going to have to help me with this youngster, Katherine. She's getting too mouthy these days."
Libby butted in before Katherine had a chance to reply. "Since when?"
"Since now."
She smiled at her father. He was in such a good mood she didn't have the heart to stop it. "Okay, you win. Eat your pie."
"Plan to." He turned and limped to the chair nearest the door. "Now, where's a fork?"
"Can I help?" James crawled up on the chair next to Theo's, gazing longingly at the pie.
"Sure." Theo boomed. "Grab two forks."
"But, James?" Libby's own excitement dispelled the tiredness she felt earlier. "What about playing your harmonica?"
"Oh, I... Uh..." James appeared to be caught in a dilemma.
Here we are, Miz Strammon."
Tim strutted into the kitchen, his fiddle in one hand, the bow in the other. Joseph was right behind him, grinning from ear to ear. Both men had washed up and changed shirts.
Joseph sniffed the air, "Sure smells good in here." He eyed the raspberry pies cooling and rubbed his hands. "Can we have a piece?"
Katherine nodded. "Later. Right now I want you to step up here with Libby and show her how to do the polka."
After an hour of polka, waltzing, and reels, Libby collapsed in the chair beside her father and fanned her face. Two helpings of pie and several large glasses of lemonade made Joseph a tireless man. He now danced with Katherine.
"Looks like work," Libby said, watching the pair twirl across the floor.
"Uh huh." Her father agreed with a wistful look on his face. "But it looks like a lot of fun."
Libby took a long drink of her lemonade and grinned. "You want to try?"
"Are you kidding?" Theo tapped his thigh. "
With this leg?"
"I'm sure Tim can play something slow."
"I haven't danced for ages." Her father twisted the worn wedding band on his left hand. "Not since your mother and I went to the Fair in '59."
Memories tugged at Libby as she watched him turn the ring. It was the summer before her mother had died. "I remember. Arlene and I watched you from the window."
"You did?"
"Yep. Remember? I spent the night at Arlene's house? We snuck down to the Fair Building and watched you grown-ups."
"You know, Helen always wondered if you two might show up."
Libby squeezed her father's arm with affection. "You're a good dancer, by the way. You and mom looked so romantic I was envious."
"Ah, so that's why you wanted to learn the two-step."
"Uh huh. If I got a chance to dance with someone special, I wanted to know how."
He glanced at Katherine and Joseph waltzing past them. "You need practice, I take it?"
Libby thought about Luke Abrams and all the eligible men supposed to show up at the dance. Some of the songs would be slow ones. "Why not? It'll be fun."
Tim finished his tune, and she hurried over to whisper a special request.
He nodded. "Sure, I know it."
Libby returned to her father and held out her hand. Tim began to play the melody she and her father were so familiar with. The violin's soft strains of 'Beautiful Dreamer' drifted around them. Her mother's favorite song. Theo stood and taking her arm led her to the middle of the room.
As they drifted across the floor, she felt as close to him as she ever had. "Being with you make me feel so glad to be alive."
"The feeling's mutual."
"How's your leg?"
"Sore, but all right."
"Let me know when it gets to be too much."
"I will."
Tim's playing was so hauntingly beautiful; tears stung the back of Libby's eyes. A harmonica began to accompany the violin. James stood beside Katherine and Joseph, the battered instrument at his mouth. Libby closed her eyes and let the blending of the two instruments surround her, fill her body and soul with wonder. It all seemed so perfect.
But was it? A chill gust of wind, a sharp sense of isolation bit into her. Something was missing. Or someone.
Insight shook her. A man's image beckoned as if she should be dancing in his arms not her father's. From a distance, she sensed the man's loneliness, his yearning. Then regret and sadness followed, nearly overpowering her. Libby reached out with her senses. The image sharpened, cleared to a man wearing denim. Matthew.
Libby shook her head. How could it be Matthew who was in need? He seemed so sure, so confident. And, besides, he hated her. It had to be the music and her joy at being alive which triggered her empathy. Somehow hearing Katherine tell about Matthew's life tore at her emotions. She was only feeling sorry for him.
"Honey, Matthew's here. Over by the door."
Libby opened her eyes. Matthew leaned against the door's frame, arms folded across his chest. His disheveled clothes and unshaven face looked as if he'd been up for a long time. Even worse, his dark brown eyes bore into hers, tearing her soul from her body. Libby stumbled, and her father steadied her.
"Go to him, child. He needs you."
"Needs me?" Libby sighed. "You know how he feels about me."
"I do, that's why I'm telling you to go to him."
The music stopped. She glanced over at the others. All eyes were on Matthew. "But, Dad, I—"
"Listen to me," her father said. "Matthew brought you back last night."
"I know. Katherine told me." Something did happen last night, she was sure of it now. She looked toward the door, Matthew was no longer there. He had left as quietly as he had come. "He's gone."
"Find him, Libby. Talk to him. That boy is hurting, and you can help him."
"Me?" She looked at her father in disbelief. "What can I do?"
"A lot, if you try."
"I'm a medical doctor. Not a psychiatrist."
"True, but you're the one he needs. Talk to him."
She sighed and stepped away. "All right, I'll go." Libby headed for the door, leaving her father standing alone.
It didn't take her long to find Matthew. He stood in the middle of an open field, staring into the distance. The wind had risen and tugged at her skirt as she walked toward him. His shirt fluttered against narrow hips and clung to the taunt muscles of his chest. His dark hair whipped about his face.
She touched his arm. "Matthew?"
He stiffened and turned. Sunlight from the late afternoon sun cast a golden glow around him, emphasizing his haggard appearance even more. "Why are you out here?
"Something's wrong. What is it?"
He released a harsh laugh and took a step away from her. "I don't need a doctor."
Libby inhaled sharply. "You know?"
"You told me last night."
What else had she told him in her sleep? "I realize most men these uh...days don't expect a woman to be quite so educated. I'm sorry."
"Sorry?" He laughed again. "Why should you be sorry? I'm not." His gaze went from her head to her toes and then back up again to stare into her eyes. "I don't give a damn you're a doctor. What I do give a damn about is the truth."
"I...I..." His bluntness shocked her.
"Why did you and your father come here? Was it to set up a practice?"
"No! Yes. I mean, no. At least, not..." What could she say? How could she tell him she'd planned to come back to set up her practice but not in this time.
"Which is it? Yes or no?"
"What difference does it make?" Libby's patience frayed under his persistent attack.
"It makes a lot of difference to me."
Libby clinched her fists. His words left her in a maze, one with no ending. "Why should you care?"
"I care, because if you're here to stay, I won't be able to fight you."
"Fight me?" Surprised, she started to laugh. "Why on earth would you fight me?"
"If I don't, I'll end up doing something I swore I couldn't do. You're tempting me, Libby, and you're the only one who can stop this."
With a lightening quick move she wasn't expecting, she was in his arms, and his mouth crashed down upon hers. His passion exhilarated and frightened her at the same time. And when his demanding tongue filled her mouth, heat shot to her core. Her loins burned with a strange, uncontrollable craving, wanting, needing contact with his.
Libby whimpered. He answered with a throaty growl, and his hold tightened. As his kiss deepened, the solidity beneath her feet disappeared, and she seemed to float. Her only salvation of staying grounded was to wrap her arms tightly around his neck. She clung hungrily to his lips, his chest, his thighs. Libby came alive to every detail of Matthew's body. Muscles like corded iron, his frame solid. Heat and pleasure infused her like aphrodisiacs, and an ache for more flared inside her.
Suddenly he grabbed her arms and shoved her away.
Chest heaving, he stood glaring at her.
"Now," he cried, "now do you understand?"
Chapter Eleven
Understand? Libby's mind and body screamed in unison. How could she understand anything after being kissed senseless? Her mind reeled. All she'd wanted was to know why he wanted her gone. Never did she expect to be kissed as if life ended tomorrow, and he expected them to be the last man and woman on earth.
Libby ordered her raging heart to slow and glanced at Matthew. His dark eyes smoldered like charcoal. His hands clenched, and his rigid body displayed emotions which threatened to overwhelm him.
Confusion stirred within her. Was it anger she saw? Or passion? "Matthew, I—"
"Leave, Libby. Go back east where you belong."
The intensity of his words tore at her. To keep him from seeing how much he hurt her, she turned away. "I can't leave Kansas, Matthew. I told you."
He heaved a ragged sigh. "It's going to be a battle between us from here on."
Battle? So, yeste
rday in the barn, what she had recognized as a challenge was true. At the time, she hoped he'd been joking, but now she knew better.
Whatever happened last night made him angry and anxious for her to leave. What had she done? Everyone knew a sleepwalker made no sense. Didn't they?
Her frustration strengthened giving her a determination to stay put no matter the cost. She gazed out over the fields. The gentle dip and curves of the land remained similar to her own time. Someday she would go back, but until then, it was best to stay at odds with Matthew. The pain of leaving wouldn't hurt quite as much. She already knew she would miss James and Katherine dreadfully, let alone Joseph and Tim. Matthew was a different story.
Libby spun and faced him. She kept her words slow, her tone even. "So be it, Matthew. But, promise me one thing."
"What?" He waited, stoically for her response.
"Don't ever kiss me again."
His expression hardened, and his hands opened and closed into fists. He stepped toward her, and growled, "You're not in a position to set terms."
Libby stood her ground. "In this I am. If you don't want me here, then leave me alone."
Matthew's lips curled in mockery. "You think I don't want to?"
"I know you don't want to. Your lust and my luck are butting heads. I can't leave and you can't keep your hands to yourself. If what...happened is any indication of your resolve, we're both in trouble."
She wasn't about to tell him while in his embrace, she'd discovered something else about herself. If he had continued, no telling how far things might have gone. She knew what happened between a man and a woman once passion took over. She knew enough to recognize how melting defenses made any act acceptable. No, she wasn't going to clue him into her weaknesses.
"Ridiculous." Matthew snarled. "I'm not some bull to be fenced out of a pasture. It's you who needs to act like a proper lady. You flaunt yourself, making a man crazy."
"I do not. Where I come from I act perfectly normal."
"Here it's unacceptable."
"Unacceptable?" She stared at him in amazement, wondering if she was in the 1800's or a much earlier time. His attitude and actions toward women were positively medieval. Whatever, 19th century or 12th century, she'd put a stop to that idea. "You're something else. You think Adam had no choice with that apple? I've got news for you. He did. Believe me, in my bo...book...." Libby's thoughts tumbled faster than her tongue could handle them. "In...in my book, when it comes to behavior, men are responsible for their own actions."