Keeper of the Key

by Barbara Christopher

  The stray kitten needed her.

  The dogs and cats that barked and meowed at her back door needed her. The newborn babies that would benefit from the nursery needed her.

  She sighed in defeat. Her instincts said Caleb needed her, too.

  The distant rumble of thunder seemed to argue the point, reminding Becci that she didn’t have time to watch this stranger who called himself Caleb Harrison. Every lie he spoke reaffirmed that he couldn’t be trusted. Nobody traveled through time, no matter what the journals said.

  The books also said there was enchanted gold somewhere in the house. All she’d found were problems and bills that multiplied by the hour.

  Becci jerked open the screen door, rounded the counter and grabbed the key off the hook above the sink.

  “Aunt Lilly, the man says his name is Caleb Harrison.” She watched her aunt carefully. Shock flickered across Lilly’s face. She obviously hadn’t expected that. Becci held the key out to her aunt.

  “Will you unlock the shed for him while I clear the cleaning supplies out of the area where the wardrobe is supposed to go.”

  Yeah, right. Admit it, Becci, you just need a few more minutes to get over the effect he’s having on you.

  Lilly plucked the key out of her hand. “Sure. I need to speak to him anyway,” she said as she bustled toward the door. “Take all the time you need, dear.”

  Becci ran up the stairs and made sure nothing would hinder their moving the piece into place, then hurried back down the stairs.

  Time was a fleeting commodity, and she’d wasted too much already.

  A SHADOWY FIGURE edged into Caleb’s view. He wanted to tell the woman to leave him alone, but he’d learned a long time ago that rudeness only created more problems.

  He glanced up expecting to see Becci, but it was Lilly who stood over him.

  “Miss Lilly,” he said and tipped his head in greeting.

  “Caleb,” Lilly said. “Becci told me your name, and she asked me to open the shed.”

  Lilly took a step toward the whitewashed building then stopped. “May I ask you something?”

  “Sure.”

  “Where are you from, exactly?”

  “Around. I was born back East.” Caleb cupped his hand over the kitten’s back and shoved himself to his feet.

  “And?” Lilly stood before him, her hands on her hips.

  “After my mother died, I lived in an orphanage. Left there at eleven and worked the land for awhile.” Caleb stared down at Lilly. “I didn’t kill Rebecca.”

  “I never said you did, Mr. Harrison. The journals, however, do say a man named Caleb Harrison stabbed her to death, and no one in the area ever saw him again. I don’t know if you are that man or not. I don’t know how you arrived.”

  Lilly shook her head. “What I do know is that you are the answer to my prayers. And maybe Becci and I are the answer to your prayers, too.”

  “Your prayers?”

  “Yes. That said, I have a favor to ask.”

  Caleb took a deep breath. “What kind of favor?”

  “Becci needs your help. There’s too much work around here for one woman, and I’m too old to be of much help. Will you stick around long enough to get the nursery going?”

  What she asked didn’t make sense. Rebecca already had Luke’s nursery set up.

  The unusual words added to the strangeness of the events. He stared at the woman who waited patiently for his answer. “I’ll help out as long as I can, ma’am.”

  “Promise?”

  “Yes, ma’am. As long as the spirits that be let me.”

  “Well, Caleb Harrison—if that is indeed who you are—according to the journals you were considered a man of your word until you vanished. I’ll understand if you can’t stay. After all, none of us really knows what’s going on, do we?”

  She grinned at him. Almost as if she knew something she didn’t want to tell.

  Before he could speak, she said, “You can give me the kitten and take the key. You can unlock the shed yourself.” She held out her hands for the kitten, handed him the key and headed for the house. When she reached the door she turned and waved at him before going inside.

  Caleb stared at the strange key. It was small and didn’t look like the keys from his time. Things had definitely changed. He settled his hat firmly in place and headed for the shed. He’d always enjoyed a puzzle, and, as he studied the door’s strange looking lock, he realized this whole episode was a puzzle.

  He’d figured out how the key fit and opened the lock just as Becci joined him. He didn’t want her help, but Jacobs hadn’t returned. He couldn’t do the job alone.

  One fact he definitely knew. Jacobs wouldn’t show up until he and Becci finished the job. The drunk was a master at avoiding work.

  “I’M GLAD THAT’S done. I had no idea the wardrobe weighed so much.” Becci opened the shed door and stepped aside to let Caleb pass. When he turned and eased by without touching her, Becci fought the urge to reach out and touch him. “We actually managed to get most of the things moved.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said with a slight nod and quickly moved further into the shed. He immediately knelt down next to a stack of boxes and started going through one of them.

  “Who said you could go through my things?”

  “Sorry.” He rested his hand on the box and looked up at her. “May I?”

  “Oh, go ahead.”

  He gave her a lopsided grin and lowered his gaze back to the box. He laid aside several items, including a rusty knife and a leather sheath that appeared to belong together. Both looked ancient and of little use. Silently, he placed everything else back in the box and let his gaze move slowly around the room.

  Becci enjoyed watching him, but not once after she’d granted him permission had he looked back up at her. That alone proved her point. A man with secrets didn’t make eye contact. She’d tried to strike up a conversation as they worked, but unless you considered the occasional “yes, ma’am” or “no, thanks” conversation, he never spoke. She could have had a better running dialogue with a brick wall. What was it about her that kept handsome men at a distance? She felt the tension build as the silence extended.

  She wanted to shout, “Say something. Anything at all,” but she didn’t dare.

  “Is that the other bed table?” he asked as if reading her mind.

  “Oh, ah . . . ” Becci swallowed hard and tried to see what he pointed at. A big oak tree blocked any light that might have penetrated the open door and without electricity the room reflected only dim shadows.

  She flicked on the flashlight. The beam cut through the darkness, slashing across Caleb’s thighs. He flinched as if he expected the light to hurt.

  Lord, he’s jumpy.

  Caleb pointed toward a box of boards in the far, left corner and waited for her answer.

  “Yes, that’s the other nightstand. I guess I’m going to have to toss it out. The parts don’t appear to be broken, but Aunt Lilly and I can’t get them back together.”

  “May I try?” Before she could answer, he took the box down from the shelf and started arranging the boards on the floor. She held the flashlight so it would illuminate the area.

  After he had all the pieces laid out, he swiftly set them in the proper grooves. While holding the parts together, he picked up the rusty knife, wedged it between the top and side, and eased the dislodged front panel into place with practiced skill.

  He twisted the decorative knobs until the front slipped into place. Then he moved each one until they looked right.

  “The wood is a little warped but it should hold until I can find some pegs to secure it better.”

  Becci flexed her fingers to ease their trembling. According to Aunt Lilly, the man who killed Rebecca had made this furniture, an
d Caleb had put the table together with such easy expertise it was as if he’d built it.

  Becci’s heart hammered against her ribs, and she lowered her gaze to the knife in his hand and swallowed hard. Had Rebecca’s murderer truly come forward in time? It was impossible, but if it was true . . .

  She glanced over her shoulder to locate an escape route. Would she be his next victim? Realizing how ridiculous her thoughts were, she shook them off and forced her gaze to stay on him. Why wouldn’t he look at her?

  “If-if you need anymore help, just knock on the back door,” she said, taking a step toward the door.

  Her mouth felt dry and her palms sweaty. She brushed her hand down her thigh and kept her words even and her voice calm. Her mother had used the same tone with her father to hide her fear. It had worked most of the time. Hopefully it would work with Caleb, too.

  “After you finish, come see me to get your pay. I’ll need a receipt for my records.”

  “Yes, ma’am. I’ll see you after I move the two smaller tables inside. As for the pay, you can save your money.”

  He hesitated, then looked her squarely in the eyes. “When I’m finished here, I’ll be moving on. Back to my time.”

  Becci brushed her bangs off her forehead and stared at Caleb. Where do you find them, Aunt Lilly?

  Last year, when they’d had a little extra money, Lilly paid a man to work in the garden because he looked like he needed help. Alcoholics anonymous would have helped him more. The year before, she’d hired a sticky-fingered maid. Now she had hired a nut who thought he was a time traveler.

  Never again would she let her aunt hire people to work around the house.

  She couldn’t really blame Aunt Lilly, though. Her aunt had probably looked into his gorgeous eyes and decided that he might be just the man to come between Becci and Michael.

  You lose, Aunt Lilly. He might be sexy, but he’s not my type.

  He flashed a shy smile in her direction, and she felt as if she’d been gut-punched. She snapped off the flashlight throwing them into semidarkness. Big mistake. It might hide his smile, but it put her at a distinct disadvantage.

  Why hadn’t she replaced the burned out light bulb? She didn’t like talking to his shadow, but it beat drowning in the blue depths of his eyes. No. It was worse, because she realized that she didn’t have to see his eyes to know when he glanced in her direction.

  “Listen, mister, there is no way you’re from the past.” Her pulse raced. “Even if you believe what you’re saying, I still need to pay you for the work you’ve done, and I’ll need a receipt.” She forced herself to take a deep, cleansing breath, but it caught in her throat. He would not sway her the way her father swayed her mother. She wouldn’t allow it.

  “You can write, can’t you?” she taunted. “Or, if you are from the past, are you one of the many of that age who didn’t think such things were important?” She regretted her words the minute she spoke them. Even the dim light didn’t hide the brief flicker of pain that flashed in his eyes. It made her feel ashamed. He might be a nut case, but even nut cases deserved respect.

  “I’m not highly educated, Miss Berclair, but I assure you I do read and write,” he answered softly. “The nuns at the orphanage believed such skills a necessary achievement. You are right, though. Most of the farmers don’t think education should interfere with their everyday work.”

  He reached toward her, and she dodged. When he took the leather sheath from the stack of boxes directly behind her and slipped the knife into it, she released a clipped, nervous laugh.

  She watched him take his handkerchief from his pocket and wipe the dust off the table he’d just repaired. Thunder rumbled, and the wind caught the door and slammed it against the wooden frame. He leaped at the door and caught and closed it just before it banged a second time. With a quick flip, he snapped the latch into place. The strong emphasis on locking it made Becci take a step backward.

  Lightning flashed again. Rain pelted the roof. Wind whistled through the broken window. Becci sucked in a deep breath. She felt as if she’d stepped into a low budget horror flick.

  Why had he locked the door? What would she do if he attacked her? She stared at the sheathed knife he had placed out of her reach.

  In the eerie semidarkness, she followed Caleb’s movements as he glanced at the various scraps of fabric scattered on the floor. He picked up a tattered sheet from the scrap pile and stepped toward her.

  Instinctively, she took a step backward and wrapped her arms around herself, shuddering.

  “I’m sorry. Did I scare you?” he asked

  “N . . . no,” she lied.

  “You shivered. I thought you might be chilled. Whether you are or not, I would appreciate it if you would cover yourself while in here with me.”

  She took the sheet he held out and wrapped it around her shoulders while he sorted through the rest of the old rags. After finding one that obviously suited him, he stuffed it into the window’s broken square. She told herself that there was nothing sinister in the action, but that didn’t quell the panic stirring inside her.

  She wanted to run, but her feet remained frozen in place. With the door bolted, she couldn’t make a hasty retreat. Heaven help her, she was trapped with a nut case who thought he came from the past and had taken on the identity of a murderer.

  She wanted to scream for help, but she knew the cry would be fruitless. Aunt Lilly was in the house. The storm raged. Wind and rain pounded the roof.

  Pressing her hand to her chest, she asked, “H-how much did Aunt Lilly promise to pay you?”

  “I don’t want your money.”

  His voice held absolutely no emotion. The shy smile that had softened his features moments ago had vanished. Lightning flashed again. The brief glow illuminated the room for a second then shoved it back into a ghostly semidarkness.

  She saw Caleb’s faint outline as he picked up the flashlight he’d laid on the floor while he had fixed the table. He rotated the slender cylinder and flicked the switch. The beam raced across the cluttered floor toward the back wall. The golden halo stopped on a small cot in the far corner.

  “There is something you can do for me, though.”

  Panic knotted inside her as she stared at the bed in horror, imagining what “something” he wanted her to do for him. The “no” she wanted to yell stuck in her throat. Her heart pounded, and her mouth went dry. The man was going to rape her.

  Please don’t let this be happening.

  She tightened her hold on the thin material draped over her shoulders. She would fight him. He might win, but he would know that he’d only defeated her because of his masculine strength. Swallowing, she moved backward until her heel bumped against the wall.

  “What is it you want me to do?”

  “If I can’t get back to where I belong, I’ll need a place to stay. Let me work for room and board. It doesn’t take a lot to satisfy me. I’ll sleep there.” He tipped his head toward the cot. “You won’t even know I’m around. You can give me a list of chores you’d like done, and I’ll do them. I don’t mind hard work.”

  Becci expelled her breath. In all her life, she’d never before experienced the fierce fear that had flashed through her, or the extraordinary relief that followed his request.

  “Oh, Lord.” Tears pooled in her eyes. Her legs wobbled. Unable to stand a moment longer, she slumped to the floor and leaned her head against the wall’s hard planks.

  “Are you all right?” Caleb flung the flashlight down, sending long streaks bouncing erratically off the walls. Before she could reply, he knelt in front of her and covered her hands with his. “Do you need to lie down? Can I get your smelling salts for you?”

  Gradually her gaze met his. His midnight blue eyes held oceans of concern and a hint of panic. Before she could respond he scooped her up and rushed ac
ross the room.

  Instinctively, Becci hooked her hands around his neck and buried her head into the curve of his shoulder. As hard as she tried, she couldn’t hold back her laughter.

  “S-smelling salts? Th-thank you for your concern, Mr. Harrison, but women haven’t carried salts in years. Today’s weaker sex is not prone to fainting spells,” she said through spurts of laughter.

  She loved the strength of his arms. She should make him put her down, but no one had ever shown her this type of protectiveness before, and she liked it. It seemed impossible that just moments ago she’d felt threatened by him.

  “I misunderstood your gesture toward the cot,” she explained while trying not to giggle. “Some men have been known to ask women for sexual favors in payment for their work. F-for a moment I thought you might be considering force.”

  His hands tightened around her, and then his palm glided up one thigh as he lowered her legs to the floor. When she wobbled, he steadied her with a light touch on her shoulders.

  Becci wiped at the tears rolling down her cheeks. “I’m sorry. I haven’t laughed this hard in years.”

  She fanned her face with one hand and tried to stifle the next barrage of laughter as she blew out a calming breath. “You may stay in the shed, Mr. Harrison. Without charge.”

  She glanced up, and her laughter died. The silence in the small shed overshadowed the rumble in the distance and filled the area with crackling tension. Caleb’s expression held a combination of anger and hurt.

  “I would never force a woman into my bed,” he said, his words barely audible. “Not for any reason. And although I have visited a bordello or two, I would not consider it proper to suggest such a thing to anyone outside such establishments, no matter how beautiful the woman is. And you are beautiful, Miss Berclair.”

  Spinning away, he snatched a large piece of canvas off the floor, covered the small table he’d just repaired, and picked it up. Without looking back, he threw up the latch, shoved the door open and stalked out into the raging storm. The wind immediately slammed the door against the outside wall, splitting the board at the hinges.