by Nancy Loyan
Faith felt the tears drizzle down her cheeks. Love.
“I do love him, Clarice,” Faith mumbled. “I found my one true love.”
• • •
At breakfast, Bridget noticed a change that was occurring in the Forrester household. Welcome change. She could feel it deep down in her bones and sense it within her heart and soul.
Miss Donahue sat erect and still in her seat. Her face wore the most serene and contended expression. Her eyes sparkled and her complexion had taken on an almost translucent quality.
With one glance at the doctor, seated next to the governess, Bridget knew the reason. The doctor’s glistening eyes were transfixed on Faith. Though both were unusually silent, a secret conversation was exchanged with their eyes.
As Bridget leaned down to pour Faith’s tea, she wanted to whisper, “I told you so.” Instead, she smiled and winked. She could have sworn Faith blushed.
Andrew wriggled in his seat, sloshing his spoon in his bowl of porridge. It was clear that he was bored with the silence.
While pouring the doctor’s tea, Bridget commented, “The fog’s lifted and the sun’s brightening up. Bright and beautiful summer morn.”
“The most beautiful day of my life,” the doctor replied with a dimpled grin.
“Is it now?” Bridget smirked. The doctor kept his eyes glued on Faith as she sipped her tea.
He took a sip of his own tea then set down the cup with a rattle. “I have some news, Bridget, Andrew.”
Bridget froze in place and Andrew looked up from his bowl.
Doctor Forrester reached over and clasped Faith’s hand in his. “Miss Donahue has accepted my marriage proposal.”
“Oh, my,” Bridget said, acting surprised, though she wasn’t. “Good news. Good news, indeed.”
She smiled at Faith whose eyes twinkled as she winked and cast a knowing smile her way.
“Is Miss Donahue to be my new mommy?” Andrew asked, leaning over the table.
“Yes.”
“Yippee!” Andrew jumped up and down like a jack-in-the-box.
Faith smiled as if it was the happiest moment of her life.
“I love all of you so very much,” Faith said, holding back tears of joy.
With wishes came tears. Wishes could come true.
• • •
After breakfast, Faith supervised Andrew as he played in the back garden. He had become enamored with the Frisbee she had brought him. She had taught him how to fling and retrieve the mysterious flying disc. It provided the boy with entertainment while expelling some of his pent-up energy.
“How many more objects have you in that bag of tricks?” Doctor Forrester asked, hands in his plaid trousers as he sauntered into the garden.
“My backpack’s about empty,” Faith replied. The best thing she had done was return with the stuffed backpack.
“I certainly hope it isn’t your desire to go back for more.”
“I can assure you I have no intentions of going back.”
“What would we do without you if you did?”
He came up behind her, placing his hands on her shoulders, kneading them with his slender fingers.
“Um, that feels great.” He could easily put a masseur to shame, she thought.
He whispered, “You have no idea what great is yet.”
“I can’t wait.” She never thought that a man from the turn of the century could be so sexy.
He nuzzled his face against her neck, nibbled at her ear, and planted kisses on her neck and cheek.
“What will the neighbors say?” she teased.
“That Doctor Forrester is having an illicit love affair with his son’s governess.”
“Scandalous,” she mumbled. His hot kisses were making her flush and tingly.
“More scandalous than the corruption in city hall. Scandalous as in Doctor Forrester marrying his son’s governess.”
Faith drew away from him, stepping forward and turning to face him. His words and the way he said them gave her pause.
“Faith, have I said or done something to cause you harm?”
“Doctor,” she began.
“Ian, please,” he corrected, noting how her expression turned from contentment to contentious and wondering why.
She stepped back, lowering her gaze. Being from another century, the social implications of their marriage hadn’t dawned on her. Until now. “Ian, I didn’t consider the inappropriateness of our relationship and its social ramifications until now. I keep forgetting my time and place. In 2006, a person could marry whomever he pleased without regard to religion, race, income, or station in life. I keep forgetting that in 2006, I was a well-respected educator. Here, I am a governess, considered little more than a servant. My intention isn’t to create a scandal.”
He stepped forward. “I am marrying the woman I love.”
“Well and good. Where does that leave me?”
He chuckled. “Dear Faith, I was jesting. In the old San Francisco, I would have been chastised and ostracized for marrying my son’s governess. For me it is of little concern. Alas, the fire and earthquake have brought some humility to the city. People have far more to worry about than the local doctor.” He reached out to her. “Besides, a little scandal doesn’t bother me.”
“What am I to do with you?” She shook her head.
“Love me. Just love me.” He pulled her into his arms. With one hand against the small of her back and the other around her waist, he pressed her body, molding it against his. They were like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle, the perfect fit.
As his lips met hers, she was consumed by his taste, spicy scent, and intimate touch. Through her heavy skirt, she could feel the length of his manhood pressing against her thigh. She wriggled, wanting him between her thighs, wanting his maleness to perform just as his tongue were prying and exploring in her mouth.
Panting, Doctor Forrester drew back, distancing himself from her body. “Oh, Faith. If we continue, I fear I shall take you right here in the grass. Now, that would be scandalous.”
“Ian, take me anywhere. Just take me.” She wanted him, all of him, so badly she could scream.
He put his forefinger up to her lips to silence them. “Shh, at the right time, in the proper place. You deserve more from me than a quick romp in the grass.”
“I love you,” she whispered.
“And I love you. We have a lifetime together.” After taking a deep breath, he said, “I must go on my rounds.”
“Where are you off to first?” she asked, trying to regain her composure.
“I must visit Mrs. Jamison.”
“The ornery old lady with the scared, elderly maid?” Faith asked, remembering how they had shared tea with the headstrong dowager.
“One and the same. Daisy died a few weeks ago.”
“I wasn’t aware. I’m sorry.”
“Mrs. Jamison isn’t faring well either, I’m afraid. It seems that her imaginary maladies are becoming all too real. Her body is old and worn. After a while, even the spirit can’t keep it alive.” He sighed.
Faith thought of own future. She was going to live until age seventy-five. Seventy-five. She would die shortly after the doctor. Would her spirit die with him? She shivered at the thought, rubbing her arms with her hands.
“Faith?” he asked.
“Oh, please send Mrs. Jamison my regards.”
“I shall.” He turned to leave and glanced back. “And Faith, I meant it about sharing a lifetime together.”
• • •
Doctor Forrester didn’t make it home in time for dinner. By the time his motorcar parked in front, the house was dark. Only the dim gas lamp in the foyer was lit. Andrew was already tucked snugly in his bed. Bridget had gone up to her room for the night. Faith sat awake in her attic room, reading by candlelight. She chastised herself for being like a wife, waiting up with worry over her husband. When she heard the doctor’s car sputter to a park, she rushed to the window. She peered out as a weary Ian Forrester s
lipped out of his vehicle and stumbled up the brick walk.
Donning her flannel robe and slippers, she tiptoed out of her room and down the stairs, using her candle in the brass candlestick for illumination. As the front door opened, she stood on the stairs looking down at the foyer.
Doctor Forrester ambled in, holding a wooden box under his arm. He removed his bowler hat, flinging it on the coat stand. He was about to turn into the library when he saw her.
“Faith?”
She walked down the few remaining steps and met him in the foyer. In the glow of candlelight, his face looked drawn and weary. His shoulders were hunched, his head low. He was working too hard again.
“What are you doing up at such an ungodly hour?” he asked.
“I’m worried about you.”
“No need.” He wasn’t used to anyone worrying about him. It had been so long since anyone really cared, except for Bridget who, at times, was like a mother hen. He looked down at Faith, the golden glow of candlelight washing over her. She looked like an angel standing there, his guardian angel.
“Have you had any supper?” she asked.
“No.”
“I’m sure there are leftovers in the fridge.”
He arched his brows. “What?”
“Oh, remaining food from supper in the icebox,” she translated.
“It’s been a difficult day. I’m not hungry. Thank you for being concerned.” He yawned.
“I care about you.”
“Thank you, Faith.” He turned toward the library.
Faith rushed in ahead to light the kerosene reading lamp. As he followed her in, their shadows danced on the illuminated cherry paneling. He set down the box on his desk.
“I’ll leave you to your work,” she said, turning to leave.
“Don’t go,” he urged.
She turned to face him. He pointed to his leather swivel chair and she sat.
“The contents of this box concern you more than me. As a matter of fact, I have no idea what’s inside. I was ordered to give the box to you,” he explained tapping the lid on the box.
“Me? Why? Who is it from?”
“Mrs. Fanny Jamison.”
“I hardly know her.”
“Apparently, she felt it was important that you have it.”
“After seeing what’s inside, I’ll have to thank her.”
“That isn’t possible.”
“Why?” She had a sudden sinking feeling.
“Fanny Jamison died this evening.” He choked on the words. The old woman had meant more to him than he realized. Through the years, he had dealt with her various maladies, contrived and real, and a fond affection had grown toward the eccentric dowager. Losing her was like losing a grandmother.
She drew her hands to her face. “Oh, no.” Looking up at him, she asked, “You were there?”
He nodded, drawing a deep breath.
“Before she lapsed into her final rest, she begged me to give you the box. She said that only you would understand.”
“I’m really quite confused.”
“Perhaps you should open the box. I’m as curious as you.”
The doctor picked up the polished pine box and set it on Faith’s lap. The size and weight of a shoebox, it had a sliding lid. Doctor Forrester leaned on his desk looking down on her.
With some hesitation, she slid open the lid. Eerie chills ran up and down her spine and neck. Knowing that Mrs. Jamison had just died hadn’t made the task any easier.
Removing the lid and setting it on the floor, she looked inside. A variety of trinkets, rolled papers and a rolled magazine filled the box.
She stuck her hand inside and pulled out a silver coin. Placing it in her palm, she analyzed it. The recollection made her gasp aloud.
“What is it?” the Doctor asked, squinting for a closer look.
“It’s a Bicentennial quarter.” She couldn’t believe her eyes. How did Mrs. Jamison get it?
“A what?”
“A special quarter minted for the U.S. Bicentennial in 1976. They were very common.”
With curiosity getting the best of her, she reached in for another object. She withdrew a baseball card.
“I’ll be darned,” she commented at the sight of a mint Joe DiMaggio collector’s card. “This would be worth a fortune.”
“What is it?”
She showed the doctor but he didn’t understand.
After removing the magazine from the box, she unrolled it. PEOPLE. The cover featured Prince Charles’ and Diana’s lavish wedding.
“I can’t believe it.” She was trembling from touching the reminders of her past life. How did Mrs. Jamison get her hands on these things, she wondered?
From the box, she withdrew a plastic American Express credit card. The expiration date was in 1982. The name: Fanella Parker Jamison.
“Oh no! Fanny Jamison was a time traveler. She was just like me. She knew. She somehow knew that we had the experience in common. Why didn’t she tell me when she was alive? I would have loved to have discussed it with her.”
She turned to look up at the doctor. “You know what this means? I’m not the only person to travel through time. There are others. I’m not some oddball crazy person.”
Doctor Forrester looked over the contents of the box. He could offer no explanation. The experience was much like the time when Faith unzipped her strange backpack and revealed its contents. This was another unexplainable Pandora’s box. The discovery caused more confusion in his mind, more evidence to support Faith’s journey through time.
“There are others like me.” The discovery made Faith more at ease with her situation. Others made the journey before her. There were others whose destiny had propelled them back in time, too.
Chapter 25
While the city surrounding her rose from the ashes, Faith began her destined life. Under the rose-entwined arbor at 92 Sacramento Street, she pledged her love and her life to Doctor Ian Forrester.
He stood beside her resplendent in a charcoal frock coat, a stiff collar and a blush rose pinned on his lapel. His face was serene and voice confident as he recited his vows “to love and cherish” her through all the days of his life and beyond. Faith looped one hand through his arm while the other clutched a bouquet of two dozen blush roses, ivy, and myrtle. The oversized bouquet bobbed up and down mirroring the jitters she felt. Though she looked like a bride in her ivory taffeta and appliquéd lace gown, she couldn’t believe that she was getting married. Married. Married again.
When she wed Brad, the ceremony was held in an overflowing cathedral with Mendelssohn, Ave Maria, and a Unity candle. Her gown of billowing satin with train and tulle veil required two attendants. She had bridesmaids, groomsmen, confetti, and a horse-drawn carriage. Her father walked her down the aisle and her mother had cried.
A lump formed in her throat. At this simple garden ceremony, there was no one to walk her down the non-existent aisle, no bridesmaids or groomsmen, no organ music, and no one to cry. There was no Clarice and Reggie to share this special moment.
She cast a glance toward Bridget who stood nearby gloating and to Andrew who stood next to his father like a page. In his hands was a velvet pillow supporting two simple gold wedding bands. As the sun’s rays illuminated them, the rings shone like magic, as if sprinkled with fairy dust.
The robed minister called her name and Faith looked up. Her eyes caught those of Ian’s. Gold specks flickered in his dark eyes as they peered down into hers, deep into her soul. He touched her in places no other man dared to go.
“Repeat after me,” the minister began, reciting vows from his prayer book.
After drawing a deep breath of the floral-scented air, Faith said the words binding her heart and soul to Doctor Ian Forrester. This time she knew what marriage and commitment were about. She didn’t require all the pomp and pageantry to give herself to Ian. Beneath the floral marriage bell, laden arbor, and under the eyes of God she pledged herself to Doctor Ian Forrester.
This time it was forever.
The wedding breakfast was as traditional as the vows. Bridget prepared the multi-course meal befitting the occasion. The damask covered dining room table was set with the best gold-trimmed china, cut crystal, and sterling. Consommé was ladled from a sterling tureen. Roasted capons with the trimmings provided the main course followed by fresh fruit, bon bons, and tea. A local baker had been commissioned to create the centerpiece, a multi-tiered confection of a wedding cake with almond icing, trimmed with ivory and blush roses.
A photographer had been hired to document the proceedings and to take formal wedding portraits. The acrid scent of flash powder made Faith long for part of modern technology. Nothing modern, though, could compensate for the joy she felt. This was how love was supposed to be. She had to go back through time to experience it.
Faith was glad that she and the doctor had chosen to forgo the public formality of betrothal parties, engraved invitations, guest lists, and receptions. The intimate, family gathering was a more personal statement of their love and the life they would share together.
After tucking Andrew in bed, together, Faith took Ian’s hand, interlocking her fingers in his. She led him down the hall to her favorite, familiar bedroom. They passed the stairway leading up to her attic servant’s room and entered the guest bedroom, closing the door behind.
The familiar carved mantel, rosewood wardrobe, commode, wicker chair, and white enamel iron and brass bed greeted them, awash in moonlight. To Faith, they were like old friends. The bed was where she had awakened into this strange new world. She felt it only fitting that she and Ian would begin their life together in the bed where she had awakened to her future.
Faith turned to Ian, stretching up into him as he bent into her, hips connecting, in an intimate embrace. She reached up, caressing his chiseled face with her hand. Tracing a line from his high cheekbones to his solid square jaw, she pondered his lips. As his eyes melted into hers, like hot chocolate, she pulled his head near hers. He kissed her upper lip first to tease. Tender kisses moved from her face, neck, eyes to gently brush her mouth and pull at her lips. As she opened her mouth slightly, he took her whole mouth with his flooding her with passionate kisses, his tongue flicking and thrusting. Her eyes closed to savor the moment. Her shoulders softened under his spell as his caressing fingers played with her hair and tingled against her neck. He pulled out the decorative tortoiseshell comb restraining her hair and tossed it on the floor. Releasing her hair in waves of brown, he buried his head in her hair, nibbling at her ear and neck, his breath hot against her flesh.