A ray of sunlight pierced the curtain and stabbed Scott in the eyes. He grumbled and turned over. A lump dug into his hipbone and he shifted away from the offending object. A high beep sounded and suddenly Scott was wide awake.
He reached under the cushion of the sofa where he’d hidden the BlackBerry. A light blinked and he wondered if it would work. Could he call Shauna in 2005? The first thought that raced through his mind was that was impossible. But nothing was impossible anymore. After all, he sat in a trailer on a studio lot in 1925.
Scott fiddled with the BlackBerry pushing a few buttons. He eyed the electronic device warily, wondering if he’d accidentally push a button and end up in another time. The old television show Quantum Leap came to mind where Scott Bakula, a scientist, jumps into situations in different times, usually just when a problem needed to be fixed.
The walls didn’t shimmer and there wasn’t a high-pitched buzzing so Scott felt safe for the moment. But would he just disappear one day? Would Shauna find the way to get him back?
On the one hand he wanted to go home. On the other he needed to stay. There was something very special between Maggie and him. He felt it. Knew it. But Scott needed to get to know Maggie. She didn’t trust him, he knew. She also didn’t know what to do about her attraction to him. Scott decided that it was time to back off, give Maggie a chance to find out who he was. Throw her off balance a little.
He groaned at the thought that he’d have to lie to her about his past, er, future. That was no way to start a relationship. And where would it go if it blossomed? Would Maggie move to the future with him? Or would he stay in the past with her?
Quit putting the cart before the horse, he told himself. There might be nothing more than physical attraction between them. For all he knew Maggie Ingram was already married. The thought depressed him. She’d better not be, he growled to himself.
Scott shoved the BlackBerry back under the cushion of the sofa then went to shower and shave. He put back on the only clothes he had, his jeans and t-shirt and hoped he could find a way to get them cleaned soon. He’d need fresh underwear also. He headed to the commissary for breakfast trying to ignore the rumbling in his stomach. They were shooting scenes with Carey Chambers today. Hopefully the star had sobered up from his binge yesterday.
Building fourteen was on the way to the commissary and Scott decided to look at the set he’d be working in. He found the crew putting the finishing touches on it and wandered around for a minute.
“Hey, Forrester.” Chambers strolled up to Scott and held out his hand. “We didn’t formally meet yesterday before we shot that scene. I’m Carey Chambers.”
Scott clasped the man’s hand. What a weak grip. Even though Carey Chambers was about six feet tall, Scott towered over him. “Hello, I’m your villain.” Scott grinned hoping to break the ice with the silent movie star.
“Yes, I know.” Chambers looked up at Scott and grimaced. “Just what I need, a villain who looks like a leading man. As if I need more competition in this town.”
“I’m not your competition, Mr. Chambers. I’m just here because Sid Goodman wanted to thank me for dragging him out of the fire the other day.”
“Great. A hero too,” he muttered. “Just keep out of my way, do your job, assuming you can act and leave me alone.” Chambers strode away shaking his head with disgust.
“Nice fellow,” Scott murmured.
“No, he isn’t,” a man said.
Scott turned and saw the man lounging next to a false wall. Two by four beams held up one side. The man was medium height, stocky with a thick neck and smoked a cigarette. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.”
“Don’t bother me none.”
“Are you an actor?”
“Nope.”
Scott wondered how this man got on the premises, but then realized that security was nonexistent in the 1920s. “Well, nice talking to you. I need to prepare for the upcoming scene.”
“Keep away from Chambers. He has big problems and you don’t wanna get caught in the middle of them.”
The abrupt warning startled Scott. “I’m sorry, I didn’t introduce myself. I’m Scott Forrester. And you are—” Scott stuck out his hand in a gesture of friendliness.
“Mickey Fillmore.” The man shook his hand then turned and left.
Scott watched Mickey Fillmore leave. His bouncy walk spoke of arrogance, greed and power. He wondered who the man was and why he’d said those things about Carey Chambers to him, a total stranger. As if to take his mind off the odd man, Scott’s stomach growled. Time to find out what the commissary had in store for him.
* * * * *
Scott wanted to take Maggie out for lunch. Later that day he put on his most disarming smile and knocked on the door to her trailer.
“Come in.”
He found her sitting on the sofa reading a Time magazine. “Excuse me for interrupting, but I wondered if I could take you to lunch.”
Maggie narrowed her eyes at Scott. “Why? So you can feel me up again?”
“No. I think we got off on the wrong foot. I’d like to apologize and make it up to you, if I can.”
Maggie studied him for a long moment. “I guess that’ll be all right.”
Relief flooded Scott. He needed to show her he could be a gentleman. He remembered reading that in this day men wooed women, they didn’t rush into sex the way they did in his time. Never having been good in history class, Scott wished he’d paid more attention now. But he figured he couldn’t go wrong if he courted the woman for a few days, gained her trust. “Great. Whenever you’re ready.”
“I’m ready now.”
They walked into the commissary, grabbed their food from the buffet and found a table away from the other actors, directors and crew having their lunch. When they’d settled he said, “Maggie, tell me a little about yourself.”
She stabbed a piece of chicken and cut it with her knife into neat little squares. She daintily speared a piece and sucked it into her mouth, her eyes never leaving Scott’s face. The wet sound of the slurp tugged at Scott and he hardened to the point of pain.
Scott barely kept the groan from escaping. How could a woman eating a piece of chicken arouse him so much? He looked down at his own plate of spaghetti and stabbed the fork into the pasta. He twirled the noodles until they were wrapped around the fork. As Scott brought the warm, fragrant bite to his mouth he wished that Maggie was wrapped around him the same way.
“I’m from Philadelphia. I came out here to visit my friend and sorority sister, Sandra Cummings. You know, the actress working on our movie. We went to Wellesley together. She moved back here after school and started in pictures. I went home. My father owns a steel company.”
Her words cut through his erotic thoughts and brought him back to his last question. As soon as she mentioned steel he knew. “Your father’s John Ingram? Why, he built an enormous empire that still operates today.”
Maggie’s head snapped up. “What? What do you mean still operates today? Of course it’s still operating.”
Shit. He’d forgotten he was in 1925 for a moment. But Ingram Steel was still going strong in 2005, even after the bottom fell out of the steel industry in the 1980s and 1990s. Now here he sat with the beautiful daughter of the world’s richest steel magnate. Scott changed the subject without answering her question. “Tell me more about yourself. Are you married?”
She took a bite of broccoli and chewed. Scott watched her lips move and had a desire to kiss her. He forced it aside and kept it to himself.
“No, I’m not married, much to the chagrin of my father. He has been pushing me toward a man I hate.” Maggie shuddered at the thought. “At twenty-two years old I’m already a washed-up spinster in his mind.” She laughed, a bitter sound.
Scott leaned across the table. “Maggie. You don’t have to marry anyone you don’t like. You’re an adult living here on the west coast.”
“Tell that to my father.” Maggie sighed and pushed her plate away. �
��Let’s change the subject. Tell me about you, Scott.”
Here goes, he thought. Here comes the first lie. “I’m a firefighter.”
“Firefighter? I thought they were called firemen.”
Crap. He used the politically correct term for his time. “Uh…right. I’ve been living in Oregon and decided to visit Hollywood while on vacation.”
“And you did a tour of the studio?”
Scott was grateful that her questions gave him the direction he needed to go. “Yes. I saw the fire and rushed in to help. The rest you know.”
Maggie shook her head. “I don’t know very much, Scott Forrester. But maybe, in time, I’ll get to know you better. Maybe you’ll even tell me all your secrets.”
Chapter Three
Scott didn’t know if there’d ever be a day when he could tell sweet Maggie Ingram his secrets. She’d think he belonged in the funny farm. If he hadn’t known better, Scott would have agreed.
They chatted about family and Maggie mentioned recent political events. She explained that the term flapper described more than the style of dress during the decade. It covered everything from the acceptance of women smoking and dancing in public to their new short hairstyles and hem lengths. Being a flapper meant the women of the day took risks.
Franz Kafka wrote Der Prozess, Theodore Dreiser wrote An American Tragedy and F. Scott Fitzgerald wrote The Great Gatsby. The first Goodyear blimp floated ads throughout the sky and Warner Brothers started experiments to make talkies.
If only Warner Brothers could see into the future.
Scott loved talking with Maggie. She was smart, knowledgeable and spoke eloquently. Her voice was low and well modulated. There was a slight huskiness that rasped over him causing chills of pleasure to race through him. He realized he hadn’t heard the last few sentences she’d said, he’d been so caught up in the soothing sound singing along his spine. When he came back to earth Maggie had stopped talking and was looking at him with curiosity burning from her incomparable aqua eyes, her head cocked to the side.
He coughed over a nervous laugh. “Sorry. Woolgathering.”
Her face shut down and she straightened her back. “Thanks for lunch. I need to go over the script again before the next scene.” She pushed back her chair.
Scott grabbed her arm to stop her from fleeing the cafeteria. Electricity sparked where his fingers touched her. He wondered if others nearby could see the sizzle. “Wait. Don’t go. I’m sorry, Maggie.” How could he explain that he’d been so aroused by the sound of her voice that everything around him had disappeared?
“Most men at least show their interest, Scott. I don’t need to be humiliated by you or anyone. Excuse me.” Maggie fled the commissary.
Good going, buddy, he berated himself. Instead of showing interest in the woman, you daydream about hearing her sexy voice in a darkened bedroom in the middle of the night. Disgusted with himself, Scott picked up his trash from the table and dumped it in a nearby can. He strolled out into the bright noon sunshine. Tilting his face toward the sun, Scott breathed in the clean, fresh air. No smog. Cars hadn’t clogged the atmosphere yet and the sky shone a brilliant blue. Mountains ringed the Los Angeles basin protecting the valley below.
He bypassed his trailer and went right to building fourteen. He knew his next scene. Now that his character had the kidnapped Susie tied up, he had to force her to understand why her brother couldn’t take over his father’s ranch. The scene culminated when Alex released Susie from her bondage and a huge argument developed when Susie refused to believe anything Alex said. As she tried to escape the door was flung open and Carey Chambers’ character, William Bennett, entered. Susie used the distraction to try to flee Alex, but he hauled her back before she could escape him.
A few minutes later Maggie entered the building. After having her makeup refreshed she strolled onto the set. Scott saw her give him a cool glance and couldn’t help smiling at her. Angry or not, she made him happy. He’d break that icy demeanor. Scott knew about the fire that raced under those frigid glances and desperately wanted to unmask the woman.
“Ready on the set!” the director yelled.
Maggie was tied to the chair again. Scott took his place beside her. This time her legs flopped open causing a dip in her skirt. Scott gulped. Maggie’s eyes simmered. He knew they were both remembering the last time she sat in that chair. A muscle ticked in Scott’s jaw and he gritted his teeth while he ignored the arousal rushing through him.
“Action!”
Susie swung her head from side to side. She struggled in the chair. Alex leaned over her and gestured with his hands. Then, disarming Susie, he gently cupped her face and held it still. With his lips only a breath away from hers, Alex said, “Look, Susie, I’ll untie you if you just listen to me.” The music swelled then lowered to a throbbing background as Susie nodded her head yes. After a long look Alex untied her. The instant her legs were free she jumped up and ran to the door. But the door swung inward almost hitting Susie in the face and she jumped back to avoid getting hurt. Alex grabbed her and hauled her against his chest. Carey Chambers’ character, William, rushed in. He saw his sister in the arms of his ex-best friend and tried to pull her out of them. The two men fought over the woman.
“Good. Good. Keep going. More arm action Maggie. More anger Scott,” Westerly said. “Camera, move to your right. Yes. Yes.”
Wrapped up in the scene, angry passion flowing, it took Scott a minute to realize something had changed. He continued with his motions but his adrenaline kicked in. Scott felt the heat first, then heard the sound. He glanced up and reacted instantly.
A set of lights fell from their perch high above the actors. Screams and shouts couldn’t cover the sound of people racing away from the danger.
Scott pulled Maggie to his chest with one arm, reached out with the other to grab Carey Chambers’ arm and launched himself backward. He fell on the floor only inches from the falling lights with the two actors on top of him. Sparks flew from a cord. Tangled among wires and cables, shattered glass and metal, his head banged the floor. The set dimmed. Scott didn’t know if it was from the broken lights or the concussion he was sure he’d just received. He lay stunned.
“Forrester! Chambers! Ingram! You okay?” Damon Westerly raced up to the fallen actors. “Maggie, darling, are you hurt?”
Chambers crawled off Scott and offered a hand to Maggie. She took it and rose, which allowed air to flow back into Scott’s deflated lungs. He gulped in some deep breaths as he took stock of his body. His head already ached. Without getting up he slowly wiggled his toes, moved his ankles, his legs and his arms. He gingerly turned his head but nothing felt broken. Light began to brighten and Scott knew that the dimness had been from his near blackout from the fall.
“Forrester…talk to me,” ordered Westerly.
“About what?” Scott grumbled. He rose to a sitting position and rubbed the back of his head feeling the large lump already forming. “Damn.”
“John, see why those lights fell! Arty, clean up this mess.” Westerly tossed out the orders and no one hesitated.
While Scott continued to check his body he heard Chambers say to Maggie, “Well my dear, I’m glad I could save you from being hurt. You are all right, aren’t you?”
Anger flooded Scott. “What a crock,” he croaked.
“Did you say something, Forrester?” Carey Chambers asked in a false, polite voice.
“I said, what a crock,” he muttered as he pushed himself up from the floor. Once he was upright Scott swayed. He reached out to a nearby camera on its dolly. The camera moved and Scott almost fell again. Shit. “I’d better sit down for a minute.” His legs wobbled on the way to the nearest chair, which happened to be the one that Maggie had been tied to. Scott sank into the chair, leaned forward and dropped his head to his knees. The dizziness passed. Adrenaline still raced through his system and his hands shook.
When he’d seen the lights falling an overwhelming feeling of sadness and loss ha
d rushed through him. It’d been such a sharp, deep pain that Scott had felt as if a rip had formed in his heart. For some reason the lights seemed to fall straight toward Maggie.
“Oh my God, Scott. Are you all right?” Maggie rushed to his side. She bent down and lifted his face in her hands. “Please tell me you’re all right,” she whispered.
The look of fear on her face warmed him. “I think I’ll live, Maggie, love. But I sure have a headache.” Her sigh of relief flowed over him, soothing his aches. He didn’t think she realized that she was tenderly rubbing his cheeks with her thumbs. The light touch took away his pain and replaced it with a deep yearning in his chest. No woman had ever affected him like this.
No one.
Maggie Ingram had a hold on Scott and he wondered if he’d ever be able to get out from under it.
He wondered if he’d ever want to.
* * * * *
“Forrester. You up to finishing the scene?” Westerly asked after the doctor pronounced that Scott would live.
Scott knew it wasn’t a question. “I’ll finish, but I wish I had a drink first. Scotch would be good right now.”
Maggie gasped. “You can’t have a drink, Scott. No one can. It’s illegal under Prohibition.”
“Prohib—” Of all the times he could have ended up in, Scott couldn’t believe that his sister-in-law’s time travel device put him smack dab in the middle of Prohibition. He started to shake his head but a sharp pain stopped him. He sucked in a breath. Eighty years in his past and he couldn’t have alcohol to soothe his nerves after being injured in a rescue. Scott rubbed the knot on his head and dearly wished for a stiff drink.
“Well. Back to work everybody.” The director moved toward the rear of the room. “John, Get ready for the escape attempt scene again.”
“Right away, Mr. Westerly,” said the prop man.
No Silent Christmas Page 4