Lavender Dreaming: A Time Travel Romance (Lavender, Texas Series Book 5)

by Barbara Bartholomew

  “We’ll manage somehow.”

  “Your papa talked to me tonight when we got back from the meeting. He said there’s a piece of land not too far out of town where you and your mama lived before they got married. The old couple that owns it wants to sell and move into town to be near their kids. They’re offering a fair price and Dr. Evan said he and your mama would help us put together enough to get started if it was what we wanted.”

  “What you want,” she teased, every bone in her body relaxing the weight of tension it had been carrying for the past days.

  “No, darling. I’d work in a coal mine if that was what it took to make you happy.”

  She hugged him. She knew the farm he was talking about. Long established with a comfortable house and a big barn, good fields, garden and orchard. The main house even had a bathroom with a water closet. And best of all it was only a few miles outside town. She could see her friends, continue her storytelling. “And I’d live on a remote farmstead for you,” she said. “Oh, yes, I already did that.”

  He tickled her until she screamed for mercy, awaking both babies so that they had no more time that night exclusively for each other.

  As the east edge was the most eroded, they met out there at the farmhouse that had once been well within the community’s border, but now hovered less than a quarter of a mile from being outside.

  The farmer and his wife, parents of grown children who had joined them for this day, stood quiet and worried-looking while Zan and the others discussed possibilities.

  “I know it’s not much,” the farmer said, nodding toward his modest home, “but Ma and me have lived here since we first married. Our young’uns were born here.”

  “Some want to move into town when they get old,” his wife said, her voice quavering, “but that’s not what we want.” She made a pathetic attempt at smiling. “Though it begins to seem we’ve not much option.”

  Betsy did her best to offer comfort, but Warne was too sick at heart to speak. Maybe not only this farm, but all of Lavender would disappear during his lifetime. By the time he was the age of this couple, he and a few others might be clinging to a few blocks in downtown Lavender, the very center of the little community.

  He kept looking around, hoping to see Violet, who was the only comfort he wanted right now, but she didn’t appear and he began to fear she’d been seriously upset by what had been said about her at the town meeting. Maybe Lavender no longer felt like a refuge to her. She might never come back.

  “Until we get this straightened out, you’d better move into town,” Grandpapa Forrest told the farm couple. “You’re welcome to stay with my family.”

  The woman shook her head. “We appreciate that, Forrest, but our son has made a place for us.”

  Zan stared to the east as the others began to drift back toward their buggies and wagons. “I can almost get it,” he said. “But not quite. Not yet.” He glanced over his shoulder in Warne’s direction. “I need to ask Violet another question.”

  Warne shrugged. “If I see her, I’ll let you know.”

  Violet dreaded emerging from the shelter, afraid of what they would find. Apparently Deborah felt the same, “Do you think my mom and baby sister are all right over at the hospital?”

  Like Violet, she feared for those she loved the most. When bombs fell, they were all at risk and the hospital was not far away at the speed planes flew.

  “Chances are they’re fine,” was the most positive answer she could give. Deborah deserved encouragement. Only a young girl, she was responsible for the younger ones left behind when her mother went to the hospital with the seriously ill baby. Danger threatened the family from more than one direction. Babies died all the time from pneumonia.

  “You’ve done a good job looking after your family, Deborah,” she said.

  The quiet outside was broken by the sound of a voice calling, “Violet, is everybody all right in there?”

  Mrs. Rolfe! She felt her way up the short flight of stairs to the door and pushed against it even as someone outside pulled. Acrid smoke burned her nose even before she emerged into the moonlit night. Her eyes took in the welcome sight of Mrs. Rolfe and Maudie. The girl grabbed her in a fierce hug. “I’m so glad you’re safe.”

  Violet felt the same about the other two, but didn’t say so as she became aware that the children were coming just behind her. She looked for their little cottage and was relieved to see it clearly visible by moon and firelight.

  Firelight? Fire! Her gaze followed the line of fire that led across to the village that lay in the little valley below.

  Worthington Village blazed with spots of red flame. It was on fire!

  By nightfall of the next day all the fires were long out, though the smell of water-soaked ashes clouded the air. They had been lucky, Violet thought glumly. Only two deaths. But in a village the size of Worthington, people were close and had been for generations. All mourned the old lady who had fallen on her way to a neighbor’s shelter and the retired clergyman who had been killed trying to assist neighbors who were already safely under cover.

  More were hurt and with the local doctor overworked to the point of exhaustion, Violet had helped the capable Mrs. Rolfe treat the more minor injuries. About a third of the little community’s homes had been destroyed and families had lost domestic animals important to their daily survival and often regarded with affection almost as members of the family: the work horse that plowed the fields, the cow that produced milk, butter, cheese, spring lambs, hens.

  Those who survived whole with intact homes took in others, but many were already over-crowded with large families. After consultation with Mrs. Rolfe and the two remaining house servants, all those without places to go were invited to the house. Linens and quilts were brought from the attic and when they ran out of beds, pallets were made under tables and in corners.

  The total count was less than she’d expected and all the weary adults were given beds, even if they were the narrow ones used at one time for maids and footmen.

  Food would quickly run in short supply, but there was enough in the cupboards to provide a meal of hot soup and spam sandwiches with lots of cups of tea and milk for the children and, even though Lady Laura would no doubt be turning over in her grave if she knew what use her aristocratic old house was being put to, the household settled down to a level of quiet produced by stunned shock in its new residents.

  “That girl’s school will just have to locate other quarters,” Mrs. Rolfe announced defiantly. “Worthington will take care of its own.”

  She had been so proud of her new inheritance, Violet knew, but her roots in village and farms went deeper. Violet doubted that the old Smythe-Hattons would have been so generous, then recognized with a grin that she was their only living representative. “Of course we will,” she agreed, making a promise.

  She gave up her bedroom to half a dozen girls about Maudie’s age, who would share both the rooms and the linked dressing room, and claimed for her own the old library.

  Having bathed in the servants’ quarters, she put on a dressing gown and fell asleep in her chair before the fire while she was still thinking about making up her bed on the floor.

  It was somewhere in the middle of the night when she awakened to an undertone of conversation coming from nearby.

  Chapter Twenty Nine

  Two elderly people sat in the chairs across from hers, so intent on their talk they didn’t notice she’d awakened.

  “The house is full of people tonight,” Lady Laura said. “No doubt they’ll do untold damage to all the valuables my family left behind.”

  Dr. Tyler snorted. “Laura, you know well enough that your cousins absconded with any items of real value. They would have taken the house and the land if they could have packed it in their bags.”

  A reluctant smile flickered across her face. “Then they’ll be surprised. When my great-grandfather lost everything he had gambling, the paintings were replaced with reproductions and the most valuabl
e china and silver were sold.”

  “Why Laura,” he teased, “and I always thought all the Smythe-Hattons were above reproach.”

  “Every family has its black sheep, Tyler. Father thought that was me in his time. But I have become convinced that designation suited him better. He was unkind to my mother and failed to stand by his own daughter in her time of need. Worst of all,” her voice quivered with anger, “worst of all he injured my daughter.”

  “He hurt our Violet?”

  She nodded. “She was a tiny baby and he said terrible things about her and me. He was in a rage, you see, and he grabbed her away from me and bent her leg so that it must have broken. That’s when I ran away with her, using the portal you had shown me to take her into the future where she would be safe with Mrs. Rolfe. I didn’t know until later that she was permanently injured and would always have a weakness in her right leg.”

  “That old bastard!” Tyler went into a stream of swearing that absolutely amazed Violet. She hadn’t known he had it in him.

  So she hadn’t been born with a bad leg. She’d been hurt by her own grandfather. In the light of the tragedy and loss she’d seen this day, the blow from that knowledge wasn’t as great as it once would have been.

  “Portal?” she questioned out loud. “Does that mean I could go to Lavender to see Warne?”

  Startled, they turned to look at her.

  “Tyler found the portal,” Lady Laura seemed to evade the question.”

  Dr. Tyler smiled knowingly at her. “And you used it over the years, my dear.”

  Lady Laura looked only slightly uncomfortable. “Perhaps,” she said.

  He snorted with laughter. “If you didn’t duck in and out of time, Laura, you would have been about a hundred and thirty when you finally passed.”

  How odd, Violet thought. From where they now sat, they seemed to have a view of the full scope of their lives from beginning to end. Only it had not been the conclusion.

  “A gentleman never mentions a lady’s age, but I will admit I traveled a bit, skipped through some rather boring years. But only after my parents were gone.” She glared at him. “That’s hardly the point now. We’re here to talk about Violet.”

  “Exactly when was I born?” Violet asked, years and dates hopelessly jumbled in her mind.

  “Never mind,” Dr. Tyler retorted crisply. You traveled by portal when Laura took you and Margaret there after she was so badly hurt in the London bombing. But it was in the London House and may no longer exist.” Dr. Tyler regarded her gravely while Lady Laura looked down at the floor, apparently lost in memories of that time that had ended with her own death.

  “Oh,” she said, a world of loss and disappointment in the one word. She and Warne were not so much separated by the many miles, the wide ocean that lay between them. It was time itself that was the barrier with no way left in between. No wonder she’d dream-walked into Lavender, the portal Dr. Tyler had left behind was hidden within the house where she’d lived.

  “Father,” she said, using that form of address for the first time in her life, “Bombs hit the village last tonight. People were killed and hurt and their homes burned. I’ve brought those who needed a place to stay into the house tonight”

  He nodded. He already knew. “We take care of our neighbors as best we can,” he said and she guessed somehow he was thinking of terrible events in his own life. “That’s why you can’t go back to Lavender.”

  She stared at him. “Why not?”

  “You carry my blood with all its strengths built into the spell I created for the town.”

  “Forrest is your son. Evan is your grandson. You have family there already.”

  “But that particular genetic loop evaded them. None of them can walk in time.”

  “But Betsy . . .”

  “Betsy is no kin of mine, but she came with a talent lent her from some other source. You are twin poles and you cancel her out. When you are there with her, she loses her abilities, abilities that keep Lavender whole.”

  “Then Zan was right and it was because of me that Lavender began to fail?”

  He made a face. “Who is Zan? Some sort of wizard?”

  She smiled weakly. “A scientist. He’s married to your granddaughter Eddie.”

  “Scientist.” He shrugged. “Wizard. Different times, different names.”

  “And that’s the answer. If I don’t go back, Lavender will be all right.”

  “For a time,” he agreed. “Oh, they will continue to see resulting losses for a few weeks yet, but eventually things will drift back to normal. And it wasn’t only you’re doing.” He smiled gently at Lady Laura.

  She shook her head. “Lavender was your responsibility,” she told him, “and you have family there to go on. Worthington is living through terrible times. Worthington is for Violet to look after.”

  And then without even a farewell, they were both gone. She supposed she would never see them again in this life.

  She crouched in her chair throughout the night, unable to sleep and lost in her heartbreak at the loss of Warne and Lavender.

  At the insistence of his mother and sisters, Warne went back to the family home for Sunday dinner. He found a certain level of comfort in renewing these relationships which he’d let slip during the recent days of crisis.

  He listened while his brothers-in-law debated solutions to Lavender’s problems and played a game of checkers with his oldest nephew. For dessert they had peach ice cream and fresh baked cookies.

  He wished Violet could be there.

  Afterwards, he went by to talk to Betsy, hoping that somehow together they would provide an extra draw bringing Violet to Lavender.

  She told him about plans for the farm she and Caleb were buying, getting sentences out in between running to see what her son was up to. She looked younger and happier than in a long time and he was glad. She and Caleb were the role model for a good marriage as far as he was concerned. If they failed, what chance did he and Violet with all their problems have?

  She tried to feed him more dessert, but little Ben happily consumed the plum cobbler he turned down. And it was while they were sitting at the kitchen table watching the boy make a creative mess mixing cream and cobbler that Warne breathed out air in a sudden glad huff as he saw Violet walk across the room and sink into an empty chair.

  “She’s here,” he whispered to Betsy as though if he made too loud a sound she might vanish.

  Her face looked tired and worn. Darkness daubed the area under her eyes and her posture was such that she seemed to sink into the chair, but she looked at him with huge eager eyes as though she could eat him up.

  “Would you like us to leave?” Betsy asked softly, reaching for her grubby little son. “To give you some privacy.”

  Violet held up a slender, work-worn hand. “Not yet,” she said. “There’s something I must tell Betsy.”

  She’d forgotten that Betsy could hear her. “I’m listening, Violet.”

  Violet watched as Betsy got up and poured three tumblers of cold water, placing one in front of each of them and then sipping nervously from the other as she simultaneously kept an eye on her son. “You’ve found out something about Lavender’s troubles, haven’t you? Shall I send for Zan so you can tell us what to do?”

  “That won’t be necessary, Betsy,” she answered gently, so tired she seemed hardly awake. She must have fallen asleep somewhere near morning, too exhausted to keep her eyes open even to grief. “You don’t have to do anything.”

  “But Lavender is falling away. Caleb and me, well, we lost our farm last week.”

  “I’m so sorry. Please don’t blame me. I had no idea.”

  Betsy’s cheerful face took on a puzzled look as she bent over with a napkin to wipe streaks of plum cobbler from Ben’s face. “Why would we blame you? Anyhow, it’s all working out for the good. We’re buying a place closer to town.”

  Violet didn’t exactly know why this pleased Betsy, but was glad it was so.


  Warne interrupted, speaking rapidly as though he just had to get some questions in before the dialogue between the two women continued. “Are you all right? You look so exhausted. And what about Maudie? Her mama and papa are so worried about her.”

  “Maudie’s fine,” she answered the last question first. “But I’m afraid she won’t be able to come home. My father, Dr. Tyler, finally explained to me that we can’t come back. The portal is gone and I can’t be in Lavender any way. Betsy’s husband was right. It’s me. Because I’m his daughter and inherited some of his extraordinary abilities.”

  “Portal?” Warne locked on the one word, but she ignored the question as insignificant considering how much she had to tell and that her time here could be interrupted at any minute.

  “My presence here overbalances everything and sends parts of Lavender flying away. Everything that has happened since, even the loss of Caleb’s farm, was caused by our coming here, my mother, Margaret and me. Though not so much Margaret. She can stay here. In fact I don’t believe she has any choice.”

  Betsy seemed stunned. She opened and closed her mouth several times before she finally managed to get some words out. “And Maudie can’t come back?”

  Violet shook her head, then realized that only Warne could see the motion. “Please tell her family that I will care for her and love her as though she were my own sister.”

  “But you must come here,” Warne said brokenly. “We belong together.”

  She couldn’t tell him that the only way for her to be here was if Betsy were gone. That wouldn’t be fair to Betsy. No one must know there was an actual choice.

  “Worthington Village was bombed last night. People are suffering and they will need all the help they can get. It is my place where I must stay even as you and your family must do what you can to help Lavender and its people,” the words were for Betsy, not Warne.

  This was his home. Even if there was a way, and she knew of none, she could not ask him to abandon all he loved for her.