She’d done a lot of observing while on board and knew the routine most people would follow. The majority of male passengers heading west on the Arabia only had space on deck; they didn’t have berths or cabins as she and Jake did. Therefore, most would go into town and stop at the local bathhouse, or the horse trough if they were broke or near so, to first wash up. Then some would head for a restaurant, and others to the local saloon.
Those passengers with families rarely left, especially if they had only space on deck. One might go ashore for supplies while the other stayed close to guard belongings. She watched as some took small children with them, which meant the children could run wild for a small time, something not allowed on board.
Bri wasn’t sure what she would do on shore, but knew for certain she would stay far away from the saloons. She had more than learned her lesson and didn’t want to repeat the experience, especially since Jake was nowhere to be seen.
And that was just as well. Every day she spent with him saw her desire rise. She was sure part of her need for him was as her anchor in this strange world in which she had been thrown. If he hadn’t taken her in, she would probably have starved by now. Without him, she had no money and very little knowledge of her surroundings. Even as an archeology and anthropology student, she had only studied culture in the general sense, not the day-to-day life of a pioneer. Besides, her work had focused in Europe because the history had been longer in duration. This was silly when she thought about it. After all, history was history.
She moved from the hurricane deck down the stairs in preparation for disembarking but her thoughts stayed on Jake. In depending on him for the basics of life, she had also begun seeing them as having a relationship, and that could be a problem. Oh, she had no problem with the sex; it was wonderful. But every night they made love and she curled into his side on the narrow bed, she became more emotionally attached to him and that couldn’t be good. She had very little time before she would go back to her own century and Jake would remain here. Well, at least that was to be hoped, wasn’t it?
“Miss Brianna, are you going into town?” Mr. Connor asked as he and his wife came to stand by the rail with her. “I hear the Main Street Hotel has a delicious evening meal.”
She smiled at the older couple. Mr. Connor and his wife had been very gracious to her, even though they didn’t know her past and only assumed she was a single woman traveling alone. They often requested she share their table for the noon time meal.
She thought of the coins from Jake’s winnings last night that weighted down her small purse. Was it enough for a meal at the hotel? She still had trouble understanding the cost of items in this time and knew that the few dollars he had given her would probably go further than she thought. He had told her to buy more clothes, something he assumed every woman wanted. She thought she would look, although she didn’t really need more. And there didn’t seem to be much sense in buying souvenirs, now did there?
She smiled at the couple. “Are you staying at the hotel?”
“Heavens, yes,” Mrs. Connor stated emphatically. “While traveling on a steamer is infinitely better than the overland stage, I still long for a huge feather bed at night.” She leaned closer to Bri and whispered, “And a private bath in a tub larger than my big toe is a definite plus.”
Bri smiled. Having daily used the hip bath in Jake’s cabin, she certainly understood the lady’s preference for the luxury.
“If you are worried about returning to the steamer after dark, Mr. Connor will see you safe. Besides, the hotel is just down the street.”
Bri relented. “I was thinking of stopping at the store first to look at some clothes.”
Mrs. Connor’s face lit up. “Wonderful! I would like nothing better than to shop. It’s been too long since I have had the opportunity to shop with my daughter. Since we’re on the way to Omaha where she lives, maybe you can help me pick something out for her.”
Bri was swept up in the woman’s enthusiasm and allowed them to drag her off the boat. As she walked down the ramp she glanced over her shoulder looking for Jake, and then had to stop herself. She had wanted to get away from him for a while, to think, so why was she looking for him?
They found themselves walking into the middle of what Bri could only term a farmer’s market. Wagons lined the narrow street and there appeared to be more people here than in all of the last five towns they had seen. The backs of the wagons were open and she could see baskets of corn, tomatoes, melons and potatoes. Others had loaves of bread and jars of what she suspected were homemade jam. The farmers stood by as people stopped and bartered for their produce.
It reminded her so much of the market days in Boston, a wave of homesickness washed over her and she reached for Mrs. Connor’s arm to steady herself. The older woman thought Bri might faint from the heat, although the evening air was mild, so bustled her into the closest store. Bri sat in a chair by an old unused pot belly stove while Mrs. Connor asked the proprietor for a glass of water. Though she didn’t need it, Bri dutifully drank from the cup she was offered and smiled at Mrs. Connor, assuring her she was all right. Would she ever be all right again? She wondered.
In the end, Bri didn’t buy any clothes, although she looked longingly at the trousers in high stacks on the table. That was the one thing about being a lady in the eighteen hundreds – she still had trouble keeping her skirts from wrapping around her legs. Mrs. Connor urged her to buy a bonnet with a huge bow that tied at her ear. Although Bri thought the creation ridiculous, especially out here on the plains, she talked Mrs. Connor into buying it for her daughter instead. Feeling pleased with her purchase, Mrs. Connor hooked her arm with Bri’s and together they went in search of Mr. Connor, who had graciously declined to shop with them and had indicated he would meet them at the hotel.
* * *
Jake watched Brianna disembark with the Connor’s, although he had carefully kept out of sight. He noticed her quick sweep of the upper deck just before she stepped onto the gangplank and he held a brief hope that she had been looking for him. She had changed his life as the side-wheeler had slowly made its way along the river and he hadn’t quite decided if he liked it or not.
Their lovemaking was certainly enjoyable though that was not near a strong enough word for the passionate way they came together. Brianna was warm and giving and he found it harder each day to keep her at a distance. And then he asked himself why he was trying so hard, yet he knew the answer lay in his past.
He slowly opened the door to the stateroom. He was tired, he realized, dropping into the only chair in the small cabin. Exhausted from endless nights of poker games; trying not to think about his life; pretending he felt nothing. He was tired of running but never getting away from the remorse of having nowhere to call home except for a floating bedroom that wasn’t even his. The worst, he mused, was the ache in his heart that he couldn’t outrun, but which had at least begun to abate over the past weeks to a dull throb instead of a piercing pain.
Even before he had made the mistake of taking Brianna to bed, she had reawakened the need in him to care; to want people – her especially – to need him. And in so doing, he had begun to forgive himself.
It really hadn’t been a mistake. Regardless of where their relationship led or for however long it lasted, he was glad they were exactly where they were.
The dream she had told him about made him wonder about destiny, something he wouldn’t have believed possible before meeting her. She was from Boston. He was from Boston. How had they never met before? It might be that they ran in different social circles, although in a town the size of Boston that would have been difficult. Besides, in America there was no caste system; everyone was welcome, whether they were the wealthy, or not so wealthy. Since he was, or had been, a physician, he was considered welcome in any home.
He glanced at the bed where the covers were smoothed and the pillows now fluffed from last night’s lovemaking. He had wondered at Brianna’s freely given care from the very
beginning, but now he began to understand that it was an innate part of her nature. She truly cared for people, regardless of their position in society, the job they did; the money they may or may not have. And through her, he felt he could become a better man.
He glanced further around the room, taking in the feminine mess of petticoats and stockings draped over the screen in the corner, a pair of dainty slippers helter-skelter on the floor. As much as he had originally disavowed liking her presence, he could no longer. She had become a part of his day, and his nights, and he missed it when she was out walking the deck.
Just the other day, he had found her at the foredeck, staring off in the distance, her lovely face shadowed in sadness. They both had their secrets, and though he wouldn’t divulge his, he had tried to pry hers from her.
She had slowly shaken her head, telling him he would never understand, even if she could begin to explain. And so they had stood there in silence, each with their own thoughts.
Now, as he moved across the room to the bureau, he noticed her journal on the small table. He had often seen her writing, but she never offered to share her thoughts with him, and he didn’t have the right to meddle. He picked up the small ledger, wondering if he read it, he might understand her a little better.
He glanced guiltily toward the door. After all, she was sharing his cabin at no cost to her. He had the right…
He dropped the journal back on the table. He didn’t have the right to pry, but as he poured a drink, his gaze strayed back to the book. He doubted she harbored any great secrets; at least not the kind he tried to keep buried with drink and treacherous behavior. What would it hurt if he read a few words?
An hour later, he sat staring at the last page she had written. The future? It was more shocking than what she had written about loving him. It was hard to believe all that she had written on these pages, and yet…it certainly explained her behavior and her lack of knowledge about her surroundings.
The future – where no one would know him and he could start over. Where perhaps he could be a better man. Was it crazy to think about the possibilities?
The door slammed and his head shot up. He stared across the space to a very angry woman.
“Tell me what it is like.” There was no sense pretending he hadn’t read her words for the journal was still in his trembling hands. “Perhaps I’ll go with you when you return.”
She wretched the book from him and stood with it clasped against her breasts. She laughed, but it was more a bark of derision, not of mirth. “The question is not when, but rather if I can return.”
Her gaze narrowed as she glared at him. “Besides, how do you know these aren’t the words of a deranged woman?”
He knew she threw his words back at him in defense. He was confused, and lashed out in anger. “Did you make love with me as an experiment for your investigations? Something to document and compare with men from your century when you return there?”
“God, no,” she replied immediately, and he saw her anger change to panic. “If you’ve read the journal, you know I had misgivings about having anything to do with you for fear of what it might change in the…the future.”
“You have written things that only someone from the future could know.” His voice had quieted; his manner intense as he leaned forward. “Tell me.”
With a sigh, Bri collapsed on the edge of the bed. His face was earnest and his voice actually held what seriously sounded like excitement. He certainly wasn’t acting as though she was a lunatic and he hadn’t immediately gone to the Captain to have her taken from the boat and detained in the town jail. In some ways, it was almost a relief to unburden herself.
“Good lord, where to begin?” She dragged a hand through her hair before bringing her shaking fingers to her lips. “Do you promise not to hate me? I never meant to deceive you.” She bit her bottom lip as she held his gaze.
“I could never hate you. You have given me…” he hesitated. “Well, that is a story for another day. At the moment, I would say your story is much more interesting.” He quirked a brow.
Bri closed her eyes briefly to consider. “Everything in the journal is the truth as I know it; as I have seen it with my own eyes, though no one in my time would ever believe a word.”
He waved a hand, as though negating her explanation. “I know well enough the history, as you put it, of this time as I live it every day. It is not history, but my present.” He stopped a minute, considering. “That is rather an odd circumstance, isn’t it? Moments, in the present time, that swiftly become the past.” It was something she had thought of, but had no way of helping define the concept.
Jake continued. “What I want to know is about your time. 1988, is it not? You indicated that many things are the same but surely there are differences; new things have been invented. We have instant communication with the telegraph and even now we have steamboats making transportation faster and easier. While the rail ways have begun criss-crossing the eastern coast, I have no doubt the day will come when railroads cross the entire country. Am I wrong?”
Bri could only smile. Here was the other side of the coin. Jake’s need to know about the future was just as powerful as her thirst for historical knowledge.
And so she began, giving him a brief sketch of important inventions such as the cotton gin, skyscrapers and elevators; automobiles and airplanes, rounding it out with computers and space travel. She told him about the settlement of the United States and acquisition of Hawaii and the gold and oil in Alaska. It did not seem appropriate to mention the upcoming Civil War or any of the other international wars that were part of her history, but not his.
“You cannot be serious? Why on God’s green earth would a man want to venture into outer space where as you just said, there is no air, no vegetation, no life?”
She smiled, thinking it odd that was the one thing he latched onto.
“For the same reason explorers landed on the North American continent and the same as those who headed to California in search of gold. It’s the adventure; the thrill of discovery.”
He quietly contemplated all she had told him, but did not move from the chair to her side. Her heart sank at the thought that, despite his questions, he might still think her unstable. She did not know if she could continue the journey to its conclusion without him.
“And now? The Arabia will sink at Parkville, not to be discovered for over one hundred years?” He shook his head. “But you said there were survivors?”
“Yes, of course,” she hurried to reassure him. “No one had time to collect their belongings, but according to the manifest, there were no lives lost.”
“So I will continue my desolate life upon yet another steamboat. And what of you? What will happen to you, Brianna?”
Tears welled in her eyes and she pressed her lips tightly together to stop the trembling. At her distress, he finally came to sit beside her. He circled her shoulders with one arm, covering her clinched hands with his large one.
“I don’t know.” She shook her head in misery. “From the first moment I realized where I actually was – am – I have tried to figure out how it happened and how I can correct it. I am no Einstein and have no idea if time travel actually exists.”
“Einstein?”
She waved a hand. “A great scientist in my time, but since he’s not here, it’s irrelevant.”
“Well, considering you are here in the year 1856 and you came from 1988, we can safely say that the concept does exist.” He paused, sucking in an audible breath then blowing it back out. “That in itself is an absolutely incredible, absolutely astonishing miracle.”
She had to laugh at the awe in his voice. Here was a man who shunned others and had no further inclination than to win a hand at poker and have a good glass of whiskey. And yet he was willing to propel into the future with her without a second thought. Perhaps his fresh, unbiased view could help her devise a plan, for Lord only knew she needed one within the next few days.
“O
riginally, I had thought to somehow delay the Arabia, thinking that if she did not reach Parkville on the fated day, she would not have hit the snag and sank. If she did not sink, I would not have been in Kansas digging her up, and therefore would not have ended up here.” She looked to see if he had followed what she now thought of as convoluted reasoning.
“But you are here,” he said, his brow furrowing.
“I know,” she sighed in frustration, getting up to pace the confines of the cabin. “I realized that was not the answer when we stayed in Waverly and the Arabia left without us. Two missing passengers certainly didn’t delay her departure.”
Jake caught her hand as she passed by him in her pacing. He pulled her to stand between his thighs and slid his hands up her arms to her elbows. She looped her arms around his neck.
“Perhaps in order to get back, you can’t change history but must be there for it to play out.”
“That is precisely what I have concluded. I had hoped you might have a different solution.”
“Since I have only recently learned of your predicament, I must think on it for awhile.” He gave her a sexy smile as he dropped his hands to her waist and tugged, tumbling them onto the bed. “In the meantime,” he said as he rolled her beneath him, “what I have is a method of whiling away the time until we reach Parkville.”
Bri fell more in love with him for the gentle way he undressed her, taking his time to kiss every inch of exposed skin. His skillful lovemaking had her forgetting her worries and instead focusing on the exquisite feelings his fingers and tongue aroused.
The Lost Knight of Arabia Page 11