Yup, he was one lucky cowboy.
Chapter 5
December 24, 1998
Marcie
Marcie slowed the car as she maneuvered her way down the rutted driveway of the ranch. In her rearview mirror, Brett’s headlights appeared.
“I need to tell Brett about the time leap,” Marcie told her husband.
“Need to?” he queried.
“Yes, please trust me on this. He’s pulling in behind us, and I don’t have time to explain, but I need to.” She brought the car to a stop, set the brake, and turned worried eyes to her husband.
“I trust you, sweetheart.” John cupped her cheek with his big hand. “You do what you need to do.”
“Thank you.” She gave her head a resolute nod, opened her door and climbed out. “Brett.” She hurried to his truck. “How are you? How is Theresa?”
“I’m fine. Happy to see you, and Theresa is spending the night with her mother. She’ll come in the morning for Santa.” He motioned at the red suit. “I’m never going to play one again, but I do love being Santa for my daughter. She’s twelve, so I suspect I don’t have much time left with my little girl. She’s growing up fast.” His smile was rueful.
“Time does fly,” John agreed.
“Come on in.” Brett led the way up the stairs and into the house. “I’ll make some coffee.”
Marcie observed John as Brett pulled the Mr. Coffee to the front of the counter, adding the coffee grounds and water. The pot filled with the rich brew, and Brett handed her husband a filled cup. John bent low so only she could hear. “Mr. Coffee? Do they have Mr. Wash the Dishes?”
She giggled and pointed at the dishwasher. “Yup.”
“Let’s sit in the family room. The chairs are more comfortable there.” Brett led the way, but Marcie could navigate this house in her sleep. She’d grown up here. Her childhood room was just down the hall.
John and Marcie sank into an overstuffed couch. They linked their fingers and the warm rush of comfort, love and trust radiated up her arm to her heart. She rested her head on her husband’s shoulder and released a sigh. They had the medicine. Now she needed to get them home. The clock over the mantle read eleven-thirty.
“Where have you been, Marcie?” Brett’s eyes burned with questions.
“I have a story to tell, and you need to hear it. Let me get to the end before you ask questions. John and I need to be out by the river at one, so there’s not much time.
Brett leaned forward, placed his elbows on his knees, and dangled his hands between them. “Go ahead.”
“You know Amanda disappeared fourteen years ago.” She waited until her cousin nodded. “Well,” she drew the word out like a long river, “she sent me two messages. One said she was fine, and the other said she had slipped through time and told me how to follow if I chose. It seemed far-fetched to me, a woman of science, but I missed her so much. I decided to give it a try. She told me to go to the south side of the river, just where the road bends, on the night of a meteor storm. When the storm flashed overhead, I would slip one hundred years into the past.” She held up a hand as he opened his mouth to speak. “I know it sounds crazy, but it’s true. I followed her four years after she disappeared. I found Amanda. She’s married to a wonderful man named Tom Thornton. They have four children. I married John, and we have three children. Two boys and a girl.”
John nodded. “Adam and Ava are eight year old twins and little Katie is three.”
“I never intended to come back. John never even lets me go outside on nights of blazing skies, but Ava is sick.” Marcie swallowed and closed her eyes searching for composure. “She has pneumonia. Without antibiotics, she’ll die. Tonight is unusual because two meteor showers will occur. The first was earlier. Did you see it?”
“No,” Brett replied. “I was indoors playing Santa. Did you get the antibiotics?”
“Yes, I found Anthony,” she began.
“Your old boyfriend?” Brett interrupted.
John’s hand tightened on hers, and she looked at him through lowered lashes. “I didn’t know who else to go to, John. I thought he’d help me. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you he was part of my plan.”
He gave a groaning growl. “Not as sorry as you might be later,” he whispered the words into the hollow of her ear.
She felt a hot blush rise in her face. “The second storm will begin at one, and John and I need to be back at the river.” She swallowed a sob. “Amanda and I both slipped back alone, but we’ve learned that if another person is holding you, they slip too.”
“How did you learn that?” Brett queried.
“I don’t know if she confided in you, but your sister Ellen slipped through by accident. She fell in love with a man named Skip.”
“I’ve met Skip. They live in Montana. He’s a lawyer, and she’s going to school.” Brett ran his hand through his hair. “Did Skip come from the past?” He chuckled. “I always thought there was something odd about that guy, but everyone likes him. Hats off to any man who can handle Ellen.”
“Yes, they were the first to try a two person time jump. John and I are the second.” Marcie took a deep breath. “I know it’s a crazy story, but I hope you believe me. Even if you don’t, give it serious thought. I’ve wanted to warn you. It seems only Wyld women slip through time at that spot. It’s possible, likely even, that your daughter is susceptible to the forces at play. Tell her, don’t tell her, that’s up to you. But, be aware. Keep her away from the river on nights of unusual meteor activity.”
“My Theresa?” Brett sat straight up. His eyes blazed into Marcie’s.
“Theresa Wyld. I don’t know how the time jump works, but I’ve worried about her. Amanda and Ellen both made the jump by accident. I don’t know if it would happen to Theresa, but forewarned is forearmed.”
Brett ran his hands over his face and stared vacantly over Marcie’s shoulder for a few minutes. “Thank you, Marcie. I’ll keep watch.” He stood from his chair and walked to the window. Headlights shone into the room. “I think Linda is here.” He turned to face them, “I’ll drive you to the river. It will take ten minutes. We’ll leave at twelve forty-five.”
“Thank you, now no more talk about time jumps, Brett,” Marcie warned.
“Right.” As Brett walked toward the front door, it flew open with such force it bounced off the wall.
The young woman with light brown and deep brown eyes stormed into the room. “Brett Wyld, I am so angry with you.” She put small hands on his chest and gave a nasty shove. “How dare you keep me waiting? I’ve never been so humiliated in my life.” She stamped one stiletto-clad foot and threw her hair over her shoulder. “Don’t you ever do that again. Do you hear me? Never.” Her voice rose to an uncomfortable screech.
“Sorry, Linda,” Brett began, “I haven’t seen my cousin for ten years, and she and her husband dropped by for a short visit.” He wrinkled his brow. “Did we make new plans? I don’t remember any.”
“I don’t care if Santa Claus came to town. You should have picked me up at the mall when it closed,” Linda fumed.
“That’s pretty unreasonable, doll, you had your own car.” Brett raised his hands and let them fall. “I think you should calm down.”
“Calm down?” she yelled. “Calm down!” she repeated as if there were any chance he hadn’t heard her the first time. She gave her tiny foot another good stamp.
Brett looked over her head at John, who gave a little nod of encouragement.
“Linda, could I speak with you privately please?” Brett took hold of her upper arm and directed her toward his room. “There are some things we need to straighten out.”
“I’ll say there are.” Linda’s voice faded as the couple disappeared behind a closed door.
Marcie glanced at the granite set of John’s jaw and then at the closed door. Someone might get a present they didn’t expect.
Marcie clenched her bottom in sympathy.
She’d broken some rules herself. Keeping s
ecrets from John was definitely against the rules. Her own bottom could very well be the color of Santa’s suit before the day was done.
Chapter 6
December 24, 1998
John
“I’d like to see your room, Marcie.” His curiosity smoldered like a banked fire. A glimpse into his wife’s past, her childhood, seemed like a fine thing. A history lesson about growing up in a different century.
“Sure, come on.” She smiled at him. That smile was a warm wind on a snowy day. She hadn’t smiled since Ava became ill, and he’d missed it.
Marcie slipped her hand in his and led him down the hall. Low voices sounded behind the closed door of Brett’s room.
“Voila.” Marcie threw open a door and ushered him through.
John stepped into the room and turned in a circle. The room was feminine with pale pink walls and lacy, white curtains. Marcie stepped behind him and flipped one of those switches; the room flooded with light. He squinted against the illumination. He preferred the gentle glow of a lantern or candles.
Marcie’s old world was easy. Well, easy didn’t quite cover it. A scowl flashed across his face. Marcie’s old world was lazy. A world with little walking and little work. Riding around in cars, covering distances that would consume hours on a horse in a fraction of the time. Light at the flip of a switch. Coffee hot and ready in an instant. He liked his old-fashioned world, and he’d make no bones about it. But he hadn’t been born to this life. He settled a hand on his wife’s waist and tucked her close to his side.
“Do you miss it?” he asked.
“Miss it?” Marcie repeated.
“Miss this fast, noisy, easy life,” John clarified.
“John, I wouldn’t trade my life with you and the children for cars, radios and Mr. Coffee machines or anything. This life is foreign to me now.” She snuggled into his embrace and rested her head against his muscled chest.
He cupped her bottom and lifted her until he could claim her mouth. “I’m mighty glad to hear that, sweetheart, mighty glad.” He lowered her to the ground.
John peered at the pictures over her desk. They were stuck to the wall with little pins. He pointed at one of two young girls sitting on a dock. The water sparkled, and he could tell their flesh was hot to the touch. “You and Amanda?” he asked.
“Yes, we were nine and eleven. Our parents took us to Lake Tahoe. It was deep and blue and gorgeous.” She leaned in to study the photo. “Mama insisted on modest swimsuits.”
“Smart mama.” John grinned.
He considered another photo. Marcie wore a long black robe with a flat hat on her head.
“College graduation,” she supplied.
Marcie pointed at the next photo. “Christmas before my parents died. There’s me, Amanda, and our folks.” Her finger traced the image. “Brett and Ellen and their parents are sitting on the floor.” A tear trailed down Marcie’s pale cheek, and he wiped it away with his thumb.
“That was a hard loss.” John put a strong arm around her waist.
“They were killed by a drunk driver. So senseless, so sudden. He drifted into their lane and hit them head on. Mama died instantly, but Dad lingered for two days before he passed,” her voice quivered.
John rested his chin on the top of her curly hair. “Mercy, two of those machines crashing into each other. It doesn’t bear thinking on.” He shook his head, sad to the bottom of his well worn boots. “That’s mighty tough, sweetheart, and I’m sorry.”
John considered the colorful images. “Bring them back with us. We’d have to hide them from the children, but it would be nice to have a remembrance.”
“Thank you. Good idea.” Marcie pulled a little pin out of each photo and slid them into the pocket of her jacket. “I’ll give one to Amanda.”
The closet stood open, and John peered inside. “Mercy, girl, these skirts wouldn’t cover your bottom.” Disapproval radiated loud and clear.
“I know. It’s different in this time,” Marcie declared.
“I’m not so sure. No man likes his wife to be lusted after by other men. What other purpose would these clothes serve but to make men look?” he asked.
“Well, it’s hard to explain, but we didn’t think of it that way.” She shrugged her shoulders.
“Well, I don’t think Brett was happy with Linda prancing around in those dangerous shoes and tiny skirt.” John turned his head toward the door and tilted his head, listening.
The distinctive sound of a hand spanking a bare bottom resonated through the closed door of Brett’s room. The wails that followed caused John to wince, but he nodded approval.
“Did you tell Brett to spank Linda?” Marcie stood with arms akimbo and glared.
“Now you just hold your horses.” John met her anger with some of his own. “I do not tell other men how to care for their women, but the subject did come up.”
“I fail to see how such a topic would arise,” Marcie fumed.
“That actor with my name was on the little box with people inside. Television, if I recall correctly. Anyway, he gave this little redheaded gal a spanking that was all wrong. It was public. The woman was humiliated, and he dumped her on the ground and left without telling her he loved her, or being sure they had peace in their hearts. I’d never seen such a dismal sight.” He heaved a sigh.
“McClintock,” she said, “I’ve seen it. I didn’t know at the time, but you’re right. The spanking was wrong and served to create more anger.”
“I had to explain to Brett and the other Santas how a spanking ought to be given, the reasons you spank, and how it’s never done in anger but with love. That actor was hopping mad when he took his woman over his knee, and she was hopping mad when he was done. Well, that doesn’t do one bit of good.” He leaned down to place a kiss on Marcie’s cheek. “Linda burst into the bar in her skimpy clothes and yelled at Brett. She was one tornado of misbehaving woman.”
Marcie laughed. “She is that.”
“So, I told Brett she was asking for a spanking. Sure as the sun will rise in the morning, that little gal wanted him to take her in hand. Whether or not he acted on the thought, well, that was up to him.”
They stood and listened for a minute. Linda’s bottom must be brighter than Rudolph’s nose by this time.
“I have something better in mind to pass the time, sweetheart, then listening to another man spank his woman.” John took Marcie in his arms and backed her up until she was next to the bed. He put an arm under her legs, lifted her, and dropped her in the center of the bed. Marcy bounced from side to side as the bed rose and fell, sloshed and rocked.
“What the hell?” John frowned.
Marcie laughed. “It’s a waterbed. The mattress is filled with water.”
“Doggone it, Marcie. It’s one thing after another in this time. If I stayed here a year, it wouldn’t be the end of surprises. But we only have half an hour, and I know how I want to spend it.” He gave his wife a wicked grin. “Take off your clothes, sweetheart. I’m gonna make love to my wife like a sailor on a ship, and I’m gonna do it wearing a fancy condom.” He removed the foil package from his pocket. He pulled his shirt over his head and began working on his buckle. He grinned at his beautiful wife as she struggled to remove her clothes on the stormy bed. Lord have mercy, this was going to be fun.
He strode across the room and listened. The spanking was over. He hoped Brett remembered the important part was to love and cherish your woman once the punishment was over. Make sure she knew you loved her. He guessed Brett and Linda would find their own way. He had a naked wife waiting on him.
When he joined her on the bed, a new set of waves rolled through their private sea. He fell down beside her, and they rode the motion, laughing like it was Christmas morning. Which, John realized, it was.
He tore the foil and admired what marvelous changes could be wrought in one hundred years. He bent down and kissed his wife until she groaned, and he added a little nip. Working his way down, he paid attention to he
r neck, her ear, the hard ridge of her collarbone before heading for parts further south.
Then the two of them created a tempest of tossing waves and whirling water. If they’d been a ship, they would have been lost, tumbled and turned and swept away in the turbulence before being thrown onto a deserted beach, panting and spent. John held Marcie close as they waited, gasping, for the calm after the storm.
“Come on, Marcie.” John rolled to the side of the bed, threw a leg over and planted his feet on dry land. “It’s time to get to the river.”
Brett waited in the living room with car keys dangling from his hand. “Linda’s sleeping.” He gave a lopsided, sheepish grin. “Besides, if this works, it’s best she doesn’t see you disappear.”
“Truer words were never spoken, my friend.” John punched him lightly on the shoulder.
“We should take my truck. It’s better for driving on the range.” Brett opened the door and waited for Marcie to walk through.
“I bought some things in town,” she said. “I’ll get them from the bug.”
She emerged with two large Target bags and handed one to John. “We’ll each hold a bag and each other.” She removed the vial of precious antibiotic and a syringe and dropped them into the inside pocket of her jacket.
The sky was fixing to explode with light when they arrived at the river.
“Thank you, Brett. Don’t forget what I said about Theresa. She’s a Wyld woman.” She stood on tiptoe to kiss his cheek.
“Don’t I know it.” Brett laughed.
John held out his hand. “Thanks, partner. I don’t expect we’ll meet up again, but I prefer so long to goodbye.” He turned and pointed at his gun. “Look, it’s still here.” He retrieved the weapon and buckled it around his slim waist.
Taking Marcie’s hand in his, he led her to the slipping spot. He’d always hated this place, fearing Marcie would disappear from his world, and he would lose her to the future. Tonight, he prayed it would work. He wanted to jump feet first into the whirlwind that would take him back to the past.
12 Naughty Days of Christmas 2018 Page 33