by Ford, Lizzy
Sitting next to him, I felt dirty. I had never loved anyone the way he did me or rather, who he thought I was. He deserved to know about his daughter, but I couldn’t say the words. I didn’t want to say the words and forever lose the way his loving look made me feel.
I focused on his face.
The doctor stepped away into the hallway, speaking to Nell and the preacher beside her. I sneaked my phone out of my pocket to check Carter’s message. For once, he had responded with a thorough message.
Taylor was identified by the first woman sent back to that time period and the rest of you were given his name to figure out who he is. You were the first to have the memory chip installed. If the chip can’t read him, it’s because he shouldn’t be there – at all. He doesn’t exist anywhere in time or history. Even the knowledge you shared of him being a sheriff is nowhere in the history books. Basically, he is operating in time without leaving any trace.
I read it, struggling to understand what Carter was really saying. It wasn’t possible for someone simply not to exist when he clearly did. I texted a quick note back, What the hell does that mean? hit send, and pocketed the cell once more.
“Josie?”
“I’m here,” I said and took John’s hand again. “Right beside you. The uh … preacher is here, too.”
“Tell … Carter … thank you.”
My breath stuck in my throat. “W … what?”
John smiled once more and squeezed my hand.
“Miss Josie, we are to do the ceremony at once,” Nell said and took my arm.
“No, wait!” I tugged away.
“He has not more than an hour!” Nell hissed in my ear. “Do not disappoint him now, Miss Josie! I forbid it!”
How can John know Carter? I let my governess pull me away, silently willing John to stay alive long enough for me to ask him about Carter.
The preacher, Taylor, doctor, another well-dressed man I took to be the attorney, Judge Cromwell, and even a fiercely frowning Philip stood in the bedroom. The preacher’s bible was open and Taylor was before him, too calm for me to read. I joined them and took my place beside Taylor, the sense of disconnect returning.
“Talk about a shotgun wedding,” I muttered.
“You dragged me into this,” Taylor whispered.
“Hush, Miss Josie, Sheriff!” my nanny hissed.
“Go sit by my father,” I ordered her. “He shouldn’t be alone right now.”
Nell obeyed.
Taylor glanced at me with a look that expressed his bafflement at the impromptu wedding. The preacher began reading hastily with occasional glances towards the bed, as if to ensure John was still alive. I half-listened, too stunned by the evening to digest what was going on. I itched to ask John about Carter.
“… ring,” the preacher said expectantly.
Taylor cleared his throat and shifted.
“This was her mother’s. It is meant to be hers.” Philip held out a massive ruby and gold ring to Taylor.
“Repeat after me, Sheriff,” the preacher directed. “With this ring, I thee wed …”
Taylor mumbled the words. He took my hand and slid the ring onto my ring finger then met my gaze. In that moment, it was the two of us in the middle of the sacred rite I was nowhere near prepared for. The calm around him indicative of a man with no history and no existence buffered me against the onslaught of memories from those standing too close. Taylor took my hands, and I saw a flicker of uncertainty in his gaze, a sign he, too, wasn’t quite ready for this occasion.
I experienced the disconnect once more, the sense I was watching myself go through the bizarre ceremony rather than living it. At one point, I murmured an I, do, and then Taylor leaned forward to give me an awkward, quick peck on the lips.
Then it was over. Everyone but Philip appeared happy, and I forced a smile as they congratulated me. My gaze went to John. He was awake. Nell had propped him up with pillows to see. While the film over his eyes kept him from witnessing it, he still smiled broadly.
The flock of people moved from me to John’s bedside, and the preacher immediately began last rites.
I listened to the solemn words spoken softly. The heads of everyone there were bowed while I stood back, struggling to remain afloat, unattached, when I felt like I was getting ready to drown in their world. The harder I tried to pull away from feeling anything, the more difficult it became. I stood perfectly still, afraid of moving for fear of jarring loose the emotions building inside me.
Why did I feel so sad about John? It was more than my soft heart at work. The longing was back, the fervent yet wasted wish to know my own father, combined with the sorrow I still experienced whenever I thought about my parents dying in a plane crash.
Someone took my hand, and I blinked, looking up to see Taylor gazing down at me. He squeezed my hand, attention returning to the bed where John lay. I continued to gaze at him in consternation, not understanding when my purpose here became so complicated.
The rattling of John’s breathing slowed and then stopped. His pallor changed quickly from one of life to death, and his features relaxed as he slid into permanent sleep.
Nell stifled a sob, while the others prayed in silence.
I watched, frozen in the place between places, a stranger to this world and the sole person the dead man loved. I owed him more without understanding what exactly my obligation was to a man I had only known for several days.
“Miss Josie, if you would like to say your farewell.” The preacher rose and stepped away to make room for me.
I went mechanically, not sure how my body worked when my mind had stopped. Seeing John like this left me cored and empty, no matter how much I told myself he wasn’t my real father.
I bent over the frail old man and planted a kiss on his forehead.
“Goodbye, Father. I wish I had known you better.” Or at all.
Straightening, I began to think again, to comprehend why the death of a stranger was traumatizing. In saying farewell to him, I was also telling my own father, another man I had never known, goodbye. I was two when he passed, too young to understand what I did now of life and death.
“A night of sadness and also of joy,” the preacher said.
“The undertaker will be here shortly to prepare the body for burial,” the doctor said. “Miss Josephine, my deepest condolences and most heart felt congratulations.”
I acknowledged him with a nod, unable to look away from John.
“Come, Miss Josie. Sheriff, Jeremiah will show you to your chamber.”
I didn’t resist when Nell took my arms and steered me away. She held my hand all the way back to my room. I entered and sat heavily, gaze on the dancing fire.
Nell didn’t speak this night like she normally did. She brushed my hair and laid out my sleeping gown, along with an overcoat this night and slippers. I changed and pushed the slippers aside to lie down on my bed.
“Miss Josie, your husband awaits,” Nell called from the bathroom. “Don’t you go lying down yet.”
“He can wait until I feel like dealing with him,” I said, a bit miffed at having the silence disrupted when I was trying to sort out my emotions.
“Miss Josie! He’s the master of the house now!”
Sex was the last thing on my mind. I couldn’t purge my thoughts of the vision of John lying on the bed.
Tell Carter thank you. What was the connection between them?
“I’m not going.” I said and lay down anyway.
“Miss Josie!”
“No, Nell!”
Nell appeared too surprised to react. If I didn’t feel numb, I would’ve laughed at her expression.
There was a tap at my door. Nell shook her head and went to answer it.
I rolled onto my stomach, not caring who it was. If Philip wanted to beat me senseless this night the way he did his servants, I didn’t think I’d feel a thing.
The door closed. “Just tell him I don’t feel right tonight, Nell,” I said before my nanny could s
peak.
“I don’t reckon you do.” Taylor’s low voice startled me.
I sat up. Nell was gone. He was dressed the way he had been the night before, in loose pants and cotton shirt and barefoot.
“I’m not expecting … ” He motioned to the bed and cleared his throat. “To tell you the truth, I’m a little afraid of Nell.”
With a startled laugh, I looked quickly to the door to make sure Nell hadn’t remained behind.
“I thought we could talk. That’s it,” Taylor said.
I glimpsed the sinewy muscles stretched across his wide torso visible through the deep V-neck of his shirt. Tight curls were spread over his upper chest.
The sexy man was a welcome distraction from the clamor of emotions in my head. “Yeah, sure,” I said and climbed out of bed. “By the fire.”
I dragged a blanket with me to the hearth. It was warm and toasty, and I sat. Taylor did so as well, propping his elbows up on his knees, his lean torso drawing my attention once more.
We gazed at one another. The flames reflected in Taylor’s mint green eyes. I tried to wrap my head around the idea we were married and in the end, decided the real-Josie was married, and I was just visiting. At twenty-two with no career, I hadn’t thought twice about a permanent relationship, let alone marriage.
“You really cared about him,” Taylor started.
“Of course I did. He’s my father,” I replied.
“Truth.”
I looked away. “Do we have to do this tonight?” I groaned.
“It’s not like he was really your father.”
Emotions swirled. I clenched my fists in an attempt to hang onto emotions that were bubbling to be free. “He was more of a father than I’ve ever had. I shouldn’t … care. But I do. Is that weird?”
“No. You’re a good person, Josie,” he replied and then frowned. “Is Josie even your real name?”
“Yes. Is yours Taylor?”
“Of course.” He gave me an odd look. “You’re the stranger here, not me.”
“Yeah, right.”
His expression softened into compassion. “Are you okay?”
I swallowed the lump in my throat and nodded. “John made me feel found for the first time in my life. He didn’t care who I was or wasn’t. Just loved me.” My voice cracked, and I cleared my throat. Surprised by the depth of truth in my statement, I tried hard to push away the feelings making it difficult for me to breathe or think. “Does that make sense?”
“It does.” Taylor was gazing at me. “Josie, if you’re going to cry … I’m not good with women.”
“I don’t know what I feel. I just …” Struggling with my feelings, I shook my head. “I don’t know. Confused, I think.” I laughed. “How about I warn you if I decide to cry.”
“Fair enough.”
“You could cheer me up by taking off your shirt,” I teased. Of the two of us, I was beginning to think Nell needed to give him The Talk instead of me.
“We are married.”
“You ready for that?”
“Mostly.”
Grinning, I studied him. “You’re an interesting person, Taylor Hansen.”
“As are you, Josie Hansen.”
A little raw, somewhat curious, and a whole lot needing to avoid my emotions, I shuffled to him and flung the blanket around his shoulders, too. “Come on. Get close.”
He shifted to wrap one arm around my shoulders and pulled me into his hard frame. I sank into him. He was warm, smelled of soap and man, and solid. In college, I’d have jumped at the chance to sleep with him but tonight … I didn’t feel right. I didn’t currently care, either, that he was a mystery to me, one I wasn’t certain I could trust or wanted to know more about.
I just needed … this. Someone to ground me from my spinning emotions and confusion.
“John was a good man,” he whispered.
“Yeah, he really was.” I rested my cheek on his chest and gazed into the fire.
I wish I’d known my father. I had pictures of him at home, but it dawned on me that I couldn’t visualize his face at the moment. I saw John’s. Why had I never paid more attention to what my parents looked like? Because looking at the pictures felt like watching John die. It simply hurt too much.
My breath caught in my throat.
“Do you need me to do anything?” Taylor asked, his grip tightening around me.
“Stay here. Don’t let me go until I’m asleep.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He hugged me to him.
Good man. There was no way a man willing to hold me all night was the bad guy Carter made him out to be. There had to be another explanation.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
The phone buzzing in my pocket pulled me out of a dreamless slumber the next morning.
I awoke with an even worse headache, one brought on as much from my cold as the nightmares. I barely recalled what happened after I dozed off in Taylor’s arms, but at some point, the nightmares crept into my slumber. I fell asleep cradled against him and awoke in my bed.
Irritated, I rolled enough to pry the phone free and checked the messages from Carter.
I’m thinking about how to explain space-time theory. Read the first of three messages.
“Ugh, Carter.” Not in the mood for science, I pushed myself up and looked around. Tea was waiting for me on the table beside the fire. I crawled out of bed and sat down to drink a cup.
The night weighed heavily in my thoughts, the demise of a good man like John and my shotgun wedding to Taylor. He’d been a gentleman last night and cuddled with me. Some of my suspicions about him melted as I realized how many times he’d had the chance to harm me and had done the opposite.
When my head had righted itself enough for me to return to Carter’s texts, I placed my phone on the table.
Short version: Someone is scrubbing his presence in the past from the history books. I do the same for you, which means he’s like you. Sent back but not by me. That means the person who sent him is the man trying to undo what I’m doing. Or I’m trying to undo what he is. Whatever. Either way, this Taylor guy is working against you.
I leaned forward and reread the note before going to the third.
So … I’d say to stay as far from him as possible now that we know the empathic memories can’t read him either. He’s likely there to stop you on the twentieth fourth.
“That might be an issue.” This time, my heart skipped a beat for a reason other than my admiration of Taylor’s fantastic abs. I dwelt on Carter’s notes, my instincts wriggling.
Taylor was hiding a lot more than how he knew to find me the night I landed.
“The mystery deepens,” I murmured and responded with a more pressing question. “How do you know John, Carter?” I sent the question.
“You say something?” Taylor called from the bathroom.
“No!” I shoved the phone under my napkin just as he emerged, dressed, freshly shaven and with a wet head. His green eyes were piercing. They traveled from the napkin I clenched to my face.
“How do you feel?” he asked.
“Better, thanks.” Not one to blush in front of men, I recalled his kindness last night with mixed feelings. Enemy or … what the hell was the alternative, if he was a time traveler lying to me about who he was?
The quiet between us was awkward. He cleared his throat finally.
“I’m, uh, headed into town.”
“I’ll be here,” I murmured.
Without another word, he turned and left. I watched him. He had a perfect body down to the tight, round globes of his ass. At least I married a hottie. I almost laughed, baffled by the turn of events.
The phone vibrated beneath my hand, and I uncovered it.
“Long story. Will tell you about it sometime,” I read the note from Carter aloud. “You have too many secrets, Carter.” I hesitated then responded. Slight problem about Taylor. Think of us as being the only people left on a deserted island. We can’t really escape each other. How dangerous is
he?
My insides quaked at the thought of what Carter would say. His assessment of my situation made me wish I had never asked. His response was quick.
Very. As in, if Taylor didn’t get rid of your predecessors, his people did. Watch yourself.
“Shit.” I lowered the phone to my lap and sat thinking for a minute. Before John’s death, I had been on my way to the savages who were going to start a war. But if Taylor was here to prevent me from stopping the war … “I’m so confused.”
Taylor hadn’t been the one to take out the girls, though. That much I knew. Intense and able to smell my lies a mile away, he nonetheless was earnest in believing he was supposed to help my predecessors and me, not hurt them. He had also called Carter a madman for implanting chips in my brain.
It made me think whatever was between him and Carter, it was personal.
My thoughts drifted to the well behind the barn.
He hadn’t done it. The whispers last time had almost told me who did.
“Nell!” I called.
The servant was never far away. “Yes, Miss Josie?” Nell appeared wearing all black. My spirits dampened.
“I need some air.”
“Of course. Your dress is ready. We will lay your father to rest this evening.”
I sighed, depressed by the thought.
“Where would you like to go?” Nell asked as I brought in the black dress and corset.
“I feel like I need to be alone. I’m going to the barn.”
Nell raised an eyebrow.
“The animals make me smile,” I explained.
“Very well, Miss Josie.” Nell’s normal spark was gone.
I watched my nanny move efficiently as always, in constant motion while her eyes remained so sad. I had the urge to comfort the woman who had been in love with the man who just died but didn’t know what to say. Struggling with my own unexpected grief, I ended up not speaking at all as I dressed in black out of respect for my faux-father’s death.
Nell didn’t dog me out the door like I expected, another sign of her profound grief.