More shrouded furniture sat nearby and one by one, Jamie uncovered each piece. A fainting couch. Josette’s vanity and bureau. A portrait of a stern but prosperous looking gentleman.
All pieces of her past.
Yet no key.
Defeated, he sank to the floor. These things were all pieces of her. But nothing that would bring them back together.
The longer time dragged on without her, the more his chances of ever finding her again dwindled.
****
As morning turned to afternoon, Josette paced the bedroom. From outside her window, the sounds of progress continued on the removal of the tree. Sebastian had managed to return to the room before it came down completely, and she was grateful for the company of her feline companion.
She found the gifts from Jamie right where she’d left them, behind her changing screen, beneath a pile of clothing. Apparently the General had assumed the open window was to blame for her absence and not searched the room as thoroughly as he’d said. But before evening fell and he called her to his bed, she needed to hide the things Jamie had given her. And the key. She stared down at it in her palm. By now he knew she had chosen her duty to the south over her love for him, and probably hated her for it. Undoubtedly he had used his little computing box to learn what had finally become of her. Now she was merely a woman who died a century ago. And that’s how it should be.
Pulling the reading device and the curious little gadget that played entire symphonies with a few taps on the screen from beneath her mattress, she carried them across the room. Dropping to her hands and knees, she felt around for the loose floorboard beneath her dressing table.
She pried it up just far enough to slip the gadgets beneath, then with a trembling hand, dropped the key down with them. She prayed no one would ever find the key again or be forced to endure the love and longing she had experienced because of it.
Heavy footsteps outside her door had her leaping guilty to her feet. She’d barely made it to the other side of the room when her bedroom door opened a crack. A young soldier, one she’d seen with the general from time to time, poked his head in.
“General sent me to fetch you. Your cook ain’t lookin’ too good. Says she can’t get out of bed. General says you’d better convince her to start cookin’ or he’ll see her hanged.”
Anger shot down Josette’s spine, mingling with worry. Maisie had never been lazy in her life, if she claimed to be too ill to get up, then she was telling the truth.
She brushed past the soldier and down the hallway. Taking her skirts up in her hand, she raced up the stairs toward the third floor, where the servants slept. Oppressive heat met her on her way up the stairs. Little wonder Maisie wasn’t well, it was hard to even catch your breath in this heat.
The elderly woman lay in her bed, iron gray hair unbound and spilling over the pillows. She lay so still that for a moment Josette’s heart ceased to beat, certain she was gone.
“Maisie?”
The eyelids fluttered. “That you, child?”
“Whatever’s gotten into you?” she asked.
“Pains in m’chest.”
Josette dropped to her knees beside the bed. The older woman made a feeble attempt to reach for her. Josette took up the hand, a hand that had worked tirelessly on her behalf, cradled her when she was frightened, comforted her. She pressed it to her cheek, allowing her tears to freely spill. Maisie had experienced chest pain on and off for a year or more, but Josette had never allowed herself to dwell on the fact that Maisie was no longer a young woman. She hadn’t wanted to face what it might mean. She’d suffered so much loss since this war began, she simply couldn’t bear another.
“What do you need, my darling?” she asked, still rubbing her cheek over the dry, weathered hand. “How can I make it better?”
“I’m not afraid to go to the Lord,” Maisie whispered. “I jus’ wanted to know you were all right.”
I’m not all right! I’m frightened and held at the whim of an insane man. And I’ve pushed away the only good thing that’s come into my life these past few months. A sob tore from her throat. More hot tears splashed down her cheeks and onto the bed. She sniffled, pulled in a shaky breath and tried to force her voice to sound normal. “I’m perfectly fine. You always say I’m like a cat, I land on my feet.”
“That gen’ral, I don’t like the way he looks at you.”
“He’s just a man, Maisie. A silly, stupid man. Nothing I can’t handle.” She hoped the brightness in her tone didn’t sound as forced to Maisie as it did to her. “I’ll have him eating out of my palm long before supper, you know that.” She forced a laugh. “Remember that time—when was it, the summer before I married Bernard, when that gentleman from up North—oh what was his name, I can’t think of it now…” she prattled on for the older woman’s sake, pretending not to notice when the hand she held went slack, when Maisie ceased responding to her voice, when she could no longer hear the woman’s labored breathing.
Finally she allowed grief and emotion to overcome her. Resting her head on the bed beside Maisie’s still form, she sobbed. Losing Maisie was like losing her mother all over again, and much like tearing the scab off an old wound, her grief felt fresher, sharper than it been in months. She cried not just for the loss of her loved ones, but for the loss of Jamie, the loss of her youth, of happiness.
Spying, she realized, was a futile pastime that forced her to cling to things she had already lost, to deny that they were gone.
But losing Jaime and Maisie in the same day was more than enough to convince her. She’d lost everything.
Except her dignity.
And General Stillwater would take that tonight.
****
Uncurling from his position on the floor, Jamie rose and brushed the dust from his slacks. The longer he stayed up here, the more an overwhelming sadness enveloped him. Not sadness caused by emotion, but a feeling of loss and mourning that seemed to permeate the attic.
He’d no more than put his foot on the top step when he heard Carlos, his construction team supervisor, calling for him.
“Mr. D’Alessandro, you’ve got to come see this.”
Refusing to get his hopes up that someone had found a key—no one but Len even knew he was searching for one—he descended the stairs.
“What’s up, Carlos? More wood rot?”
“Not even close, sir.”
Tool belt jingling, the man led the way down the second floor hallway. “That old bedroom we’ve been working in—we tore up the floorboards like you wanted so you could have them restored.”
“Yeah.” A sense of trepidation began in his gut. God, please don’t let it be Josette’s remains or some remnant of hers to remind him that she had left this house, not just hours ago, but more than a century ago.
“You won’t believe what the men found. I can’t even believe it. I mean, it doesn’t even make sense.”
Shouldering his way through the crowd of renovation workers, Jamie caught a glimpse of something silver beneath the floorboards. For a moment his heart ceased to beat.
“Where would something like this come from?” one of the workers asked. “It can’t have been laying there for long, that’s a brand new iPod.”
“So who put it there? Some homeless dude?” Chided another.
“No homeless person could afford that stuff,” scoffed Carlos.
“Did the TV crew see this?” Jamie asked, wondering how the hell he would ever explain it.
Carlos shook his head. “No, but I can get ‘em up here if you want.”
“Don’t bother,” Len said from the doorway. “Someone probably stole them and stashed them there.”
Jamie nodded. “That was my thought, too. Why don’t you give us a few minutes while I figure out what to do with this stuff?”
The supervisor frowned. “Sure, sure. Come on men, time for a coffee break.”
For long moments after the workers’ footsteps had retreated down the stairs, Jamie stared at the
objects hidden beneath the floorboards.
Josette had undoubtedly put them there for safekeeping. He reached down to pick up the iPod, now covered with a layer of dust. Then the e-reader. As he brushed the collection of dirt and dust from the device, sunlight glinted on something else in the hole. Something shiny.
“Jame?”
“There’s a key,” he could barely speak over the emotion lodged in his throat.
“The key?”
He shrugged, still staring at the innocent looking brass object. “I don’t know. But it’s with the gifts I gave her so I have to believe whether the gesture was subconscious or intentional, she left this here knowing I’d find it.”
She knelt beside him. “Are you sure if you go you’ll be able to come back?”
He picked up the key and squeezed it in his palm. “If everything goes the way I want it to, I’ll bring her back with me.”
“And if it doesn’t?”
“You’ll know what to do, Len.”
****
Darkness had overtaken the house by the time Jamie climbed the ladder to the second floor. He’d suspended work on Josette’s room and waited for the crew to finish for the day. He wanted it to be dark before he tried to reach Josette. There was little doubt her absence yesterday had been noticed, and he had to wonder what changes the general might have made to her room. It was possible he’d even moved her. Darkness would provide cover and conceal him if he needed to move through the house to find her.
The idea that the key might not work this time gnawed at him, but he pushed the thought aside each time it came to him. It had to work.
Outside the bedroom he paused to gather his thoughts. He had dressed entirely in black and had brought along a small flashlight and some pepper spray. And the key. That was it.
No matter what happened or how much she protested, he had to bring her back with him. The urge to Google her this afternoon had been too much to resist.
Once again the information on what had become of the Virginia Rose had changed. This time, rather than disappearing into the night never to be seen or heard from again, it read that she’d died at Old Capital prison. In childbirth.
Agony washed over him at the thought. There was always the possibility the child she died trying to deliver was the general’s—Stillwater had threatened her enough times. But on some gut level Jamie knew better.
His mission had changed. He was no longer focused on simply rescuing Josette from certain death.
He needed to save his child.
****
Josette paced restlessly around the grand room the general had claimed for his personal use. From one prison to another. With a view that overlooked the now-overgrown gardens, and a balcony for enjoying pleasant mornings, it had once been her in-laws’ suite.
They were surely rolling in their graves at the way their beautiful French Colonial furnishings were piled with the general’s belongings, the wood scratched from his carelessness.
Maisie would be—fresh grief pierced her heart. Maisie wouldn’t be outraged about anything ever again.
Night had long since fallen, and with every little noise she feared the general would return. She’d exhausted her efforts to find a weapon of any sort in the room, apparently General Stillwater had cleared the room of all sharp objects.
Across the room she spied the elegant drapes that graced the windows. She’d noticed the burn marks from the General’s cigars, but now something else caught her eye. The long gold braided ties that held the drapes back. They might prove a serviceable weapon, if she could manage to get them around the evil bastard’s neck. Could she do it? Could she really kill the general to gain her freedom?
According to Jamie she already had.
She crossed the room in quick strides, eager to have the cord in her hands before the General returned.
She’d just coiled it in her palm and slipped it into her pocket when a loud commotion sounded in the hall outside her room. She froze, half fearing the door would burst open any moment.
Heavy footsteps pounded past the door, and shouts came from the other side. What could cause such chaos?
“Grab him,” came the General’s loud order. “He’s one of her contacts looking for her.”
Josette’s heart slammed against her chest. A contact? Looking for her? But Reverend Huckabee was dead….
Pain filled screams came from the hallway outside, and sounds of men moaning in panic and fear. Fearing for her life, she raced to the door, bending to peer out the keyhole. A strange white beam lit the hallway, illuminating men writhing and clawing at their eyes. A strange odor wafted through the cracks around the door. Her nostrils tingled and her throat burned. Had someone come to poison them?
The light bounced upward. “Stillwell. I’d know your face anywhere, you bastard.”
Jamie! But how had he gotten here?
“Who are you?” There was an unnaturally high pitch to the General’s voice, but whether it was fear or the effects of the poison, she couldn’t be sure.
“Where the hell is she?”
“Gone.”
“That’s a lie and we both know it. Now where is she?”
“Where did you come from? I made certain this house was secure.”
“It’s my house, and I said to let her go.”
She pounded frantically on the door. “Jamie! I’m in here!”
A grunt sounded. The light bounced off the walls and a strange hissing sound followed. The General let out a loud blood curdling scream.
She stepped back, heart hammering at the sound of a key in the lock. What had Jamie done?
The door swung open and she sagged with relief.
“Jamie!” Before she could throw herself in his arms, he crouched down and pulled her with him. The white light she’d noticed in the hall came from something he carried and the beam illuminated odd looking spectacles covering his eyes. He thrust a similar pair into her hands. “Put these goggles on. I don’t know how long pepper spray stays in the air but it’ll hurt like hell if you get it in your eyes.”
After she’d secured them over her eyes he pulled a mask from a cord about his neck and handed her one of those as well. She followed his motions and put it on, placing it over her mouth and nose.
He grabbed hold of her hand and they stepped out into the hall. Bright white light guided their path as they stepped over the prone forms of men who had guarded her for months. No one tried to stop them.
“Jamie, how did you get here?”
“The key you left under the floorboards.”
“You found it? I never imagined—”
The sound of a gun being cocked caused the hairs on the nape of her neck to stand upright. She stumbled to a halt, causing Jamie to stop, too.
“Don’t move,” came Stillwater’s cold voice. “You’re not taking her anywhere. She belongs to me.”
Jamie took hold of her wrist and pulled her behind him. “Not anymore.”
“Let her go or I’ll shoot you where you stand.”
Light illuminated the General’s bloated, pale face. Tears streamed from red rimmed eyes and his voice was raw from the chemical Jamie had sprayed. He blinked and held up a hand to shield his eyes from the blinding light.
“How are you going to shoot me if you can’t see me?”
The General’s only response was a loud blast that echoed off the walls. With a grunt, Jamie crumpled to the ground. The light stick rolled from his grasp but before Josette could reach it, one of the general’s men grabbed it. The light went out, casting them into darkness.
Josette dropped to his side. “Jamie!”
“Hurts. Like. Hell.”
Relieved as she was to hear his voice, there was no way to help him here. She had to get him back to his own time. “Where’s the key?”
“Pocket. Can’t…reach.”
“Which pocket?”
He didn’t answer. Cold fear pierced her heart. If he died she’d never forgive herself. “Which pocket?”
Strong hands yanked her away from him. She made a wild grab for Jamie but missed.
“Lock her away, I’ll deal with her later. Right now it’s him I want.”
No! If they were separated she’d never be able to get the key and get Jamie to safety. With every last ounce of will she possessed she kicked, punched, scratched like a wild banshee until the man holding her released her.
The flashlight fell from the soldier’s hand and rolled across the floor. She threw herself toward it. Her palm grazed it a moment before the soldier could pull it away. Cool metal met her hand and she thrust it high above her head, surprised at just how heavy it was.
“Stay away,” she warned. “He’s from the future and he has special powers….weapons the likes of which you’ve never seen…”
“Weapons of mass destruction,” slurred Jamie from the floor.
“Yes. Weapons of. Of mass…”
“Destruction.”
“Destruction. The poison fumes making your eyes and nose burn are only the beginning..”
Two soldiers started forward. She pointed the light at them like a gun. “Stay back! Don’t make me use this…this….”
“Laser beam,” whispered Jamie. “Cuts…like…a knife.”
“Laser beam,” she said, seizing upon the frightening-sounding term. “It’s a laser beam and it will cut you like a knife.”
The men stumbled to a halt, the light illuminating confusion and fear in their faces.
“Stay back and I won’t hurt you. Just let me get my time traveling friend to safety.” She knelt down and patted Jamie’s hip pocket. She chanced a quick glance at him and a small cry escaped her at the sight of the blood dripping over his hand where it pressed against his shoulder.
“That’s the pocket,” he said weakly.
She thrust her fingers inside and grasped the key. “Jamie you’ve got to help me,” she whispered. “We’ve e got to get into my room.”
“How…far…”
She placed a hand under his uninjured arm and attempted to half drag him toward the room. Heavy and solid as he was, moving him seemed impossible. “Can you help with your feet?”
This Moment In Time Page 9