They started toward the mountain peak where a thick, chilling mist hung like black smoke in the air and an arbor of trees bowed low in a strange arch. The wind rose, pulling at them, coming from all directions at once. The tempest had never been so wild. She had never felt such a sense of fear.
Vickie gasped suddenly as they neared the archway of trees. There, standing just out of the dark passage was Gramps.
“There’s a stubborn old fellow for you!” Jason murmured. “I know where you get the streak now.”
Vickie cast him a quick glare, and he eased her down from Max, dismounting himself. Vickie raced to Gramps. “How did you get here? What are you doing out of the hospital?”
“Dr. Sam Dooley gave me a clean bill of health, Victoria. He said I could go. I saw a friend in the waiting room and asked for a ride—”
“Wheedled some poor innocent into taking you here!” Vickie charged.
He shrugged. “Found Amos Clinton still down by the Yank encampment, and he lent me that old mule of his over there to get up here.”
Vickie glanced past his shoulder. There was no mule there, just a tall buckskin horse.
“Sam told you that you had to be careful—”
“Oh, I’m being careful. I just came to say goodbye to Jason, too.”
Jason was there now. Gramps reached out a hand. Jason took it tightly. Their eyes met. “You’re a fine fellow, Colonel,” Gramps told him.
“Thank you, sir. And so are you.”
“You’d better say goodbye yourself, Vickie,” Gramps warned her, stepping back. “I’ve been watching the winds and the trees—the whole damned feeling of this place is changing with the seconds now. The door is closing.”
“It’s closing quickly,” Jason agreed, looking down at Vickie.
She swung around and hugged him. He tried to step back. “Vickie…”
She nodded, and hugged him more tightly to her. He took her shoulders and pressed her away from him at arm’s length, looking into the tumult in her eyes. He was going to tell her something. He was going to tell her that he was afraid to tamper with the future, that someday he was supposed to save Robert E. Lee’s life, and if Lee were to die, things might be worse still, just as they had been made so very bad by Lincoln’s assassination. He wanted to try and explain so many things.
But the words didn’t come.
“Oh, God, Vickie!”
He took her back into his arms again and kissed her passionately. The wind was rising to a wild peak, whipping around them, lashing at them with a wicked fury.
His fingers moved tenderly through her hair. “I love you, Vickie, I love you. I love you so very much. Come with me.”
A sob caught in her throat. God, yes! She would give anything to do it. She would brave the those moaning, clasping fingers in the tunnel. What did she have before her? More of those years of loneliness. Some special years with Gramps, of course, but then…
She could live a long, long time. Alone.
“Vickie, I love you. I love you.”
“I can’t. Oh, God, I would, Jason. But Gramps, he can’t live with the hardships of your world, Jason. We’ve seen that—” Her voice broke off on another sob. “Kiss me again. Just once more.”
He kissed her. Long and deeply. While the howling gray wind tore around them, she tasted the heat and the fire and the passion within him in that kiss. She felt the searing warmth of the man, his strength, his tenderness, his love.
Then she broke away from him, tears flooding her eyes. She had to let him go. Quickly. Or perhaps cost him his life. “Goodbye, Jason.”
He stood stiffly against the wind. Tall and straight, the ultimate officer. Then he turned, and mounted Max, and started into the arbor.
The voice…
Vickie choked down a sob, watching the tempest grip him, toss him. She shuddered, turning back. But suddenly other hands were on her, surprisingly strong hands. She looked up into Gramps’s eyes, her own eyes filled with tears.
“What do you think that you’re doing, Victoria? Follow him! Quickly, now!”
She shook her head. “I can’t leave you—”
“Do I look like a dimwit who can’t take care of himself to you? Oh, Vickie, Vickie! I’ve only so long left, you know.”
“Gramps, don’t say—”
“What the hell do you think I’m doing here! I had to come to give you a boot through, just in case you didn’t see clearly that you must go. I’ll be fine. It’s been a full life, a good life! And yes, I’ve got a little of it left. Time to argue Liam into the ground. But I’ll be okay.”
“Gramps, I can’t—”
“Vickie! Do you want me spending my days half wishing I were dead because I stood in the way of your happiness? Vickie, let me live out what I’ve got left, happy myself, knowing that you’re loved, that you’ve found your place. Damn you, granddaughter, go!”
She hugged him tightly. “I can’t!”
“You can!” He extracted himself from her. “I love you, Vickie. You’ve been the best part of my life. Now, go. Make a life for yourself. You won’t find your young cavalier again. Go with him. Make him a good wife. And if there is ever any way to do it, you let me know that you’re all right, Vickie—that damned thing is almost closed. Go now!”
Once again, Gramps gently pushed her from him. Her face was soaked with tears now.
“Go!” he ordered. “You’ll both die if you don’t move, and the whole thing will have been for nothing.”
“I love you,” she told him. “I love you so much.”
“It’s closing, Vickie!”
He walked her to the arborway in the trees. The wind was so strong now that they could barely stand.
“Jason! Jason Tarkenton!” Gramps shouted.
Then he gave Vickie a shove.
She hesitated, looking back, her heart breaking. “Go on!” he cried to her. “I’ll be all right! Happy as a lark, knowing you’re being…loved! Move, move quickly!”
She closed her eyes, wondering how she could be in such anguish—and yet suddenly very sure of what to do. Gramps was right. She had found her rightful place, with Jason. She couldn’t let him go without her.
The world didn’t matter. Then, or now. The things that revolved within it didn’t matter. Where was the meaning, the light?
Except for love. Love gave life meaning. Love was right.
She ran back to Gramps, throwing her arms around him one more time. “You’ll always be with me. In my heart, always.”
“And you, too, sweetheart. You, too. God go with you!”
She nodded, and turned and started to run into the arborway. She paused for a moment, terrified.
The trees lashed in the wind all around her, their branches like spidery hands. Clammy, wet. So chilling. She felt that they wanted to close around her, stop her, cast her back. Hold her there in the limbo, the whirlpool of time, neither in the past nor the present.
“Oh, God!” she cried out. “I can’t move!”
Faces seemed to whip around her in the clouds. Anguished faces, groaning, crying out. Arms reached out. They were holding her.
The wind! It was the wind, screaming all around her. The space within the arbor was black and circling like some cataclysmic deep-space storm. It was closing quickly. Her hair whipped around her face, blinding her. She could barely see.
“Jason!” She shrieked out his name. There was nothing, nothing!
And then she saw him, a dark shadow upon a dark horse, nothing more for a moment than a dashing silhouette….
“Vickie!” His cry encompassed her. “Victoria!” Love and anguish filled his voice.
Then he was before her, reaching down for her, sweeping her up to sit before him atop Max. His lips touched hers so briefly. For they could both feel them now. The hands…holding them. Clinging to them. Trying to keep them from passing through to the other side.
“Hold me! Tightly!” Jason roared. He slammed his heels to Max’s haunches. The horse reared, and bolted
. Vickie shrieked. The wind made a last tug at her. They were free. While the gray whirlwind tore all around behind them, Jason’s gaze met hers with its searing silver, his lips curled into a tender smile, and touched down upon hers.
“We made it. But you shouldn’t have come. You risked your life—and you can’t go back.”
“I couldn’t live without you,” she whispered.
“Do you think you can live without all those modern inventions—hot dogs, microwaves, cars…?” he whispered.
She smiled, leaning back into the crook of his arm. “You’ll have to make it up to me,” she told him.
“Hmm,” he murmured thoughtfully. Then his lips were on hers again, hungrily. “I’ll have to work on that, won’t I?”
She nodded, still watching his face with wonder. She stroked the strong planes of his cheeks. “There will be so very much time to work on it together.” She paused and gazed deeply into his eyes. “One thing is certain. I love you, Jason.”
“I love you, too. So much. For all time, for eternity.”
He nudged Max. It was incredibly painful to leave Gramps behind.
It was also wonderful to face the future.
The past.
Whichever.
It didn’t matter which. She was facing all the days to come with Jason. Love was leading the way.
His fingers curled around hers as they rode away from the wind-tossed trees, out of the gray swirling mist and into a new life together.
Gramps had just seen them. Despite the whipping winds, despite the deadening gray.
Vickie had stood alone for a moment, slim yet strong, facing the whirling tempest. His head had suddenly grown heavy with fear. It had been too late. They wouldn’t make it.
But then he had seen the soldier ride out of the thick shadows, and sweep Vickie up, and away. He had seen them, silhouettes of black against the gray. His granddaughter, held so tenderly in those strong arms, her beautiful face cast back.
And the Reb had kissed her. And for a moment, they had been locked there like that.
They had ridden on quickly. And the swirling mist had closed in their wake.
He closed his eyes for a moment. Let them be happy. God, please let them be happy! he prayed.
Then he opened his eyes.
The mist was gone. There was nothing there. Just an arbor of old oaks, the branches barely lifted by a breeze. Nothing more.
He’d let her go. What a stupid old fool. But he smiled suddenly.
He would remember that kiss Jason and Vickie had given each other all the remainder of his days. All of them. And he would be happy.
EPILOGUE
Gramps was climbing up the steps of the house when he saw a car pulling into the driveway. He shaded his eyes from the sun with a hand for a moment, then smiled. It was Vickie’s friend, the doctor.
“Hello, there, sir!” the young man called out, stepping from the car.
“Dr. Dooley, nice to see you, nice to see you.”
Sam Dooley walked across the yard, taking Gramps’s hand, shaking it.
“Didn’t know doctors were making house calls these days, though, but it’s mighty nice.”
Sam grinned. “Well, it’s not exactly a house call, though it is good to see that you’re looking hale and hearty.”
“I feel fine,” Gramps told him. “You’re a great doc.”
“I try,” Sam said.
“Come on in, since you seem to be in a frame of mind to chat. Have some chili.”
“Thanks.”
Sam was slow about getting around to what was on his mind. He was seated with a soda and big bowl of chili before he finally asked the obvious.
“So, have you heard from Vickie?”
Gramps drummed his fingers on the table. “Can’t say that I have.”
“So she really just ran off with that stranger who came to town for the reenactment, huh?”
“The fellow’s name was Jason Tarkenton. Said he came from just past Staunton. I’m not sure where they went, though.”
Sam grinned broadly. “You’re an old con man, sir.”
Gramps shrugged.
“It’s hard to believe that she wouldn’t have contacted you by now.”
“Maybe it’s hard for her to get in touch.”
Sam nodded. He set his spoon down. “Good chili.”
“Thanks.”
“There’s nothing you can tell me, huh?”
Gramps arched his eyebrows and Sam grinned.
“You came by to question me? The story is pretty simple and…and an old one, too. Vickie went away because she fell in love. Are you suspicious, Doc? Suspecting foul play?”
“I do know better,” Sam said softly. “I know you wouldn’t harm a hair on that girl’s head, and you’d give hell to anyone who dared to think of it.” Sam paused. “But I did happen to see some mutual friends of mine and Vickie’s recently. Karen and Steve. Do you know them?”
“The Yankees?” Gramps said.
Dooley nodded. “Well, they also told me the fellow’s name. And I wound up doing some research in some of the old records down in Staunton.”
“Old records? Why, the fellow didn’t look so old to me. I’d guess he was in his early thirties.”
Sam’s grin deepened, his teeth strong and white against the handsome ebony planes of his face. “You’re something, Gramps.”
“I’m something? Since when did you become a historian?” Gramps asked.
“I went to medical school. I’m accustomed to reading the fine print,” Sam said, laughing. “Besides, I didn’t come to ask you anything. I came to let you know something.”
He stood up, reached into his jacket pocket, and produced some papers. Gramps saw that they were photocopies of pages from an old record book.
“Go ahead. They’re for you.”
Gramps picked up the papers. They were church listings, he realized. He saw the name Tanner at the top of the page, and then read lower, coming to Tarkenton.
Tarkenton, Jason and Victoria. Born June 30, 1863, a son, Joseph John. Born April 15, 1865, a son, Axel James. Born September 18, 1868, a daughter, Jeannie Marie. Born May 20, 1872, a daughter, Anne Elizabeth. Born October 17, 1876, a son, Jeremy James.
The next name down the list was Taylor, Henry. He started over, rereading all the Tarkentons.
Gramps looked up at Sam Dooley.
“Thought you might like to see that. Strange coincidence about the name, isn’t it?”
“Mighty strange,” Gramps agreed. His knees felt a little wavery. Sam was heading for the door now. Gramps started to walk him out.
“Thanks, Dr. Dooley,” he said on the porch. He extended his liver-spotted hand. “Thanks. It was mighty kind of you to come by.”
Sam nodded. “You take care of yourself. If you need anything, call me.”
“And if I can ever do anything for you, sir, you just let me know.”
Sam nodded and folded his long body back into the driver’s seat of his car.
Gramps waved, smiling slowly as the car disappeared.
“Five of them, Vickie!” he said aloud, and started to laugh. “Five of them!” He shook his head. “And not a disposable diaper in sight.”
He squeezed his eyes tightly shut. Well, she must have been—must be?—happy. She’s living a full, long life. With a fine man, one who loves her.
And no matter where you were in time, wasn’t that what mattered?
Yes. And it felt damned good to know that he had a whole passel of great-great-grandchildren. Somewhere.
He started to turn to go back into the house, but then his eyes were suddenly drawn by something that seemed to be wedged in the lawn under the old oak tree.
Slowly, curiously, he walked toward it.
There was just a glint of metal. But the metal was attached to something embedded much deeper.
Gramps got down on his knees, and he began to dig. The metal was wedged pretty deep and the digging took some effort. And, after all, he was an old m
an.
But a persistent old man.
He grew excited as the object began to emerge. A sword. A Confederate cavalry officer’s sword. One of the handsomest examples he had ever seen.
Carefully, reverently, he began to wipe the dirt from it. His hands began to shake. He had seen this very sword before.
Only…it was a bit different now.
Right on the blade, near the hilt, it had been engraved. A single tear ran down his cheek. He wiped it away, and he smiled broadly.
“Love you, Gramps. Always, all times. Vickie Tarkenton, September, 1862.”
Gramps stood up slowly. He looked to the mountain. “Love you, too, Vickie. Love you, too.”
He cradled the old sword to his chest, and walked on into the house.
ISBN: 978-1-4268-3377-9
THE LAST CAVALIER
Copyright © 1993 by Heather Graham Pozzessere
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