Keeper of the Key

by Barbara Christopher

  “Desires,” Lilly supplied the word for him.

  “Desires,” he repeated. He hoped, for Becci’s sake, he could keep his promise to Lilly.

  Musical tones echoed through the room. The doorbell.

  “There’s a basket in the corner cabinet in the dining room. Put the biscuits in it while I see who’s at the door. Hopefully I can get rid of them before our supper gets cold.”

  Caleb found a linen napkin in one of the drawers and lined the basket before dumping the biscuits in it and placing it on the table.

  Becci rounded the corner and greeted him with a polite smile that didn’t touch her eyes. An instant later Lilly came from the opposite direction, followed closely by Michael.

  “Becci, darling,” Michael gushed. He brushed past Lilly and caught Becci by the shoulders, giving her a kiss. “You must be physic. I decide to come by at the last minute, and you’ve got a place already set for me at the table.”

  “It’s not—,” Becci said, trying to tell him the spot belonged to Caleb, but Michael interrupted.

  “Who else would it be for? Surely you’re not entertaining the hired help,” he said with an arrogant nod in Caleb’s direction.

  Becci’s gaze met Caleb’s. She didn’t know what to do. A knot tightened in her stomach. She and Caleb needed to talk. His eyes had glistened with excitement when she’d come home. Now a barrier cloaked all but one emotion—his animosity toward Michael.

  Caleb took his hat off the hook and settled it on his head. “I’ll get that list of chores from you in the morning. It’s late, and I need to go rustle up some grub. Night, Miss Lilly. Becci. Y’all have a nice evening.”

  Thirteen

  “YOU WILL NOT let that man come in this house again!” Michael shouted.

  Becci rested her fists on her hips and glared at Michael. “Caleb is my friend, and you have no right to tell me who can come into my home and who can’t.”

  “I have every right,” Michael said. Grabbing Becci’s left wrist, he lifted her hand until her engagement ring was only inches from her face. “This gives me that right. You’re mine.”

  Air hissed through his clenched teeth as he drew in a deep breath. His eyes, barely visible through his squinted gaze, were dark with a stormy rage she’d never realized existed in him. A paralyzing fear snaked through her. He wouldn’t hurt her. Or would he?

  Michael whipped a curt glance in Lilly’s direction, and her aunt also froze.

  “What’s gotten into you, Becci?” Michael asked returning his attention to her. “That . . . bum waltzes in here full of mystery and in need of a handout, and you all but invite him into your bed. Or have you done that, too?”

  Becci’s anger outweighed her fear. Without thought, her palm cracked against Michael’s cheek, the sound echoing through the kitchen. Then there was nothing but silence. It hung like a suffocating mantle as the seconds passed slowly.

  She cut her gaze to her wrist, which Michael still held. He wouldn’t win. She wouldn’t let him. She curled her fingers into a fist and glanced up. His grip tightened a little more. An eternity passed as she and Michael stared at each other, his fury battling her smoldering rage.

  But despite her anger, icy fingers of fear skidded down her spine, and she couldn’t stop the tremor that rippled over her. She’d never encountered this side of Michael, and now that she had, she knew she’d never marry him.

  Michael drew a breath between his clenched teeth and closed his eyes. Whether to regain control or as an attempt to cover his true feelings, Becci didn’t know. When he opened his eyes, the surliness had vanished, replaced by a cool nonchalance.

  “I’m sorry. I deserved that.” He hesitated for a moment, then loosened his grip but didn’t let her go.

  Becci rubbed her free hand against her thigh and drew in a deep breath, forcing the tension out of her body.

  “Let me go, Michael,” she ordered, breathing a silent prayer of thanks for the firmness reflected in her voice.

  Instead of releasing her, Michael said, “I’m so jealous, Becci. Every time I talk to you or Lilly, you mention something about your illustrious guest and how much he’s helping you get things ready for the party. He’s doing all the things I should be doing, but I don’t have time. It’s . . . humiliating.”

  Michael brushed a kiss to her palm, then slid his hands to her shoulder. “Why are you so blind to his actions, honey? Can’t you tell he’s only after your money? I bet he’s read every one of Rebecca’s journals and knows there’s gold in this house. Please be careful.”

  “Gold? How do you know about the gold?”

  “I . . . I don’t know,” he stammered. “You must have mentioned it. Or maybe I overheard you and Lilly talking about it. It’s really not important.” Becci eyed him warily. Her question had shaken him. Why?

  “What’s important,” Michael continued, “is for you to watch out for Mr. Harrison. With all the creeps out there today, he might be a murderer, or a rapist.”

  “No, Michael. Caleb’s my friend. He wouldn’t hurt me or anyone else.” She knew she meant the statement to bolster her own feelings as well as convince Michael of its truth. She had nothing to worry about. Nothing.

  But even as she gave herself the pep talk, Caleb’s declaration echoed in her head. I killed a man once. She couldn’t believe Caleb would take a life, but he’d admitted that he had. Yet, there was a gentleness in him that belied his statement. But if he hadn’t killed a man, why would he say he had?

  She must have frowned at the silent question because Michael drew his knuckles down her cheek. She suspected he meant his touch to be soothing. It wasn’t.

  Shouldn’t the caress of the man you supposedly loved make you feel . . . loved? Where were the sparks? Or the wild fluttering? Where were the signs of passion Meg had asked her about? Where were all the things she felt when Caleb touched her?

  Caleb Harrison had changed her. Sparks had ignited between them from the moment he’d arrived, and they were still hovering just below the surface, ready to be rekindled. Lust, excitement, and, yes, fear, too.

  Not fear like she felt at Michael’s rage, but fear of her attraction for Caleb. Besides, Caleb didn’t share the desire she felt. He wanted to find the elusive medallion and go back to Luke and Rebecca.

  Did Caleb have an ulterior motive as Michael suggested? Caleb had said he wouldn’t infringe on another man’s woman, so why did he keep touching her? Kissing her?

  Becci stepped away from Michael’s touch. She didn’t have answers to her questions about Caleb, but she knew what she had to do about Michael. Lifting her hand so he could see it, she removed the ring and held it out to him. “I think you should take this back. I’m not the woman you need, Michael. I don’t love you.”

  “No!” Michael shoved her hand away. Then he took a deep breath and calmly said, “Don’t give it back, yet. You’re under a lot of stress, financially as well as emotionally. Asking you to marry me only added to your problems. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have proposed until this was all over with, but I was desperate.”

  Desperate for what? Ownership of her house? Control of the money she’d yet to see? It couldn’t be desperation for her because he’d never acted like a desperate lover. Sure, he’d kissed her, but where was the need she’d felt in Caleb’s kiss? The hunger she’d felt in Caleb’s touch? A hunger that she’d never felt in Michael. She extended the ring again. It was time she faced the truth. She’d never loved Michael and never would.

  He took the ring and spun it around, letting the stone sparkle in the light. With a sigh, he caught her hand, laid it in her palm, and curled her fingers over it.

  “You don’t have to wear it, but keep it for now and think about what this means to both of us. After Ascomp makes their decision, you’ll have a little less stress to deal with, and if you still want to break our engageme
nt then, I’ll understand.”

  The oven door squeaked, reminding Becci of her aunt’s presence.

  “Supper’s getting cold,” Lilly said as she moved around them and placed a platter containing a large roast, surrounded by carrots, in the center of the table. She glanced at Becci and picked up her plate. Becci didn’t miss the message reflected in Lilly’s eyes. She didn’t like Michael, and although she’d planned to eat with Becci and Caleb, she wouldn’t stay in the same room with Michael any longer then necessary. Lilly filled her plate, picked up her glass of iced tea and went to the parlor.

  Michael held out a chair and motioned for Becci to sit down. “About the ring, if it isn’t on your finger after the party, I’ll have my answer. Now, let’s eat before our dinner gets cold.” Michael took Caleb’s place, his back to the window.

  Becci glanced toward the large oak in the back yard. An aura of light from the shed’s window circled a retreating figure. She couldn’t see the figure clearly, but she didn’t have to. The width of his shoulders told her it could only be Caleb.

  “Michael, I don’t need time to think things over. I don’t love you. I hope you’ll remain my friend, but friendship is all I can offer you.”

  With a deep sigh, she laid the ring next to Michael’s plate. Relief swamped her. It was like leaving a stuffy attic after hours of dusty, grueling work. She felt . . . free.

  As soon as Michael left she would find Caleb and explain everything. Tomorrow they would plan a picnic, and, hopefully, she could convince him that the only thing that waited for him in the past was a hangman’s noose.

  Michael slipped the ring in his pocket. “Fine. We’ll just make tonight’s dinner a celebration of our new, strictly business relationship.”

  He picked up his water glass and lifted it in a parody of a toast before taking a drink. His eyes were as hard as granite. She had the oddest sensation that he was plotting against her. But that was ridiculous, wasn’t it?

  AS CALEB GLANCED up, Jacobs dropped his findings next to the flickering beginnings of the campfire.

  Jacobs pulled out a half empty bottle of whiskey. At least he’d heeded Caleb’s warning about the limited supply of spirits.

  Caleb positioned the larger logs carefully around the fire so they wouldn’t smother what little flames he’d been able to create. Fire licked at the damp logs, sending a spiral of smoke skyward. Once he was satisfied that the fire would thrive, he secured the fish on a limb, laid it in the hot embers and leaned back against the log he’d used the night he and Becci had shared his dinner.

  A gentle breeze made the leaves dance in a crooked path along the bank. The water’s surface rippled. Caleb expelled a long, harsh breath. He had no reason to complain. If things went the way he hoped, in one more day he would be out of Becci’s way and teaching Luke how to ride a horse and catch fish.

  He watched the darkness swallow the trees on the opposite side of the lake. With an eerie resemblance to a shroud, the dark sky stretched endlessly over the lake. Not even the stars twinkled.

  “Nice git-up,” Jacobs said, gesturing toward Caleb’s new clothes as he offered Caleb his bottle. “The pants is a little short fer a full-growed man, don’t ya think?”

  “No, not for here. These are what people of today wear when the weather gets too hot for working in breeches.” Caleb declined the bottle Jacobs offered with a shake of his head. “Thanks, but you know I don’t drink whiskey.”

  No matter how bad things got, he refused to drown his feelings with a temporary antidote. It might help for a night, but it wouldn’t cure his problems.

  “We don’t belong here, Jacobs. I know how to get us back home.”

  “Well, what are ya waitin’ fer? I’m ready to wake up out of yore dream. This place gives me the creeps. It’s Miz Rebecca’s house in some ways and not in others.”

  “It’s not that easy. I have to locate the medallion I had on the day we moved the dresser.”

  “That there gold piece?”

  “Yep, that’s it, but it’s not gold, it’s orichalc. I put it in the dresser, and I believe it has something to do with the passageway that brought us here.”

  “Yore serious, aren’t you? This ain’t no whiskey dream?”

  “It’s no dream,” Caleb confirmed.

  “You do want to go back, don’t ya?”

  “It’s not a matter of wanting. I have a promise to keep. Besides, there’s nothing here for me.” Pain gnawed at Caleb’s stomach. An innocent child awaited his return, a child that needed him. But if he took the medallion, would Becci find the remaining gold before she lost Berclair Manor? Would she ever have her nursery? The one that would help a whole lot of children? He didn’t like having to choose between one child and so many. And that’s what he would be doing—choosing one over many.

  “After the way you’ve been behavin’, I thought you might be sweet on that little filly. Wouldn’t take much fer ya to git in there and toss that feller out.”

  “I can’t do that. She . . . she’s taken. Was before I came. Will be when I’m gone. According to Lilly, that’s what the ring on Becci’s left hand stands for. Lilly called it an engagement ring. Sort of like swearing on the Bible. I’d be wrong to toss him out.”

  “What you gonna do?” Jacobs asked as he lifted the stick and turned the fish over.

  “I have to find a way to get the medallion.” Silently, he added, I have to become a sneak and a thief. I have to become all the things Becci hates. I have to steal from her.

  JACOBS LIFTED THE bottle to his lips and drained the last of its contents. Empty. He sure hoped this call-me-mister-Ascott feller held up his end of the bargain. Jacobs wiped his mouth on his filthy shirtsleeve. He’d been waiting beside the metal machine for almost an hour. It shouldn’t be too much longer. After all, Ascott and that little filly had left the table quite some time ago.

  The front door opened. A wide streak of light flashed across the rocky path, and voices came from around the corner of the house. Jacobs darted for cover. It wouldn’t be right to have Miz Becci catch him and her feller conducting business. If everything went right, he’d have half the widder’s gold and be on his way to Raleigh before Caleb knew he’d been tricked.

  With gold in his pockets, they couldn’t refuse to serve him whiskey. And until he found the gold for Ascott, the man would keep him well supplied.

  As quick as the light had painted squares on the rocks, it erased them, leaving the area shrouded in darkness. The woman went back into the house, and Ascott walked toward his riding contraption. Jacobs stepped out of the deep shadows to stand in front of the man.

  “What have you got for me?” Ascott asked, glancing furtively toward the house.

  “You bring the whiskey?”

  Ascott nodded.

  “You’s right about the me-dallion. He says it’s hidden upstairs.”

  “Where?”

  “Didn’t say,” Jacobs lied. “I’ll find out before Saturday. If’n we come to terms. That’d be another case of this here whiskey.”

  “Deal,” Ascott whispered. “You’d better keep your part of the bargain, or I’ll make sure this deal will be the last one you ever make.”

  Ascott moved to the rear of the vehicle and opened a strange flap. Bottles rattled as he set a box on the ground and slammed the flap down.

  Jacobs licked his lips and reached for a bottle. Ascott caught his wrist. “Don’t get so drunk you foul things up. I want that medallion, and I don’t mind killing to get it.”

  Jacobs jerked free. “Don’t you worry, Mr. Ascott.”

  Ascott opened the car door and slid onto the seat. “Heed my words, Jacobs. Just heed my words.”

  With that warning still lingering in the air, Ascott did something to his carriage that made it throw rocks into the air, and then it fishtailed down the drive an
d out of sight.

  BECCI SET HER PURSE on the counter and snatched up the note from the stack of clothes.

  Dear Lilly, You said you could get your money back on these. I hope you can. I do not feel they would be favorably looked upon when I return to Raleigh. I have enjoyed learning your customs and getting to know that no matter how bad things are where I come from, there is a future. Hopefully I will not be a burden on you much longer.

  Caleb

  Becci’s chest tightened, and she read the note again. Did Caleb really feel like he was being a burden to them? Clutching the paper in her fist, she ran toward the shed.

  “Caleb?” She knocked and waited for him to answer. Nothing. She knocked again, then put her ear to the door. All she could hear was the rapid thunder created by her own heart.

  “No,” she choked out. “You can’t leave like this. You can’t.”

  She drew in a deep breath. “Be calm,” she ordered herself. “He hasn’t left. He hasn’t.”

  Or had he? Was he telling Aunt Lilly good-bye and leaving without acknowledging her? Tears burned her eyes. Would she ever see him again? Watch the water glistening on his broad back? Hear him laugh at some ridiculous invention? Or taste his lips?

  She slowly trudged up the hill. She wanted to throw something or scream or cry. She scooped up the clothes and hugged them to her chest. They still carried his unique scent—fresh, outdoorsy. She would ask Lilly to give the clothes back to Caleb . . . if he was still here. Why had she reprimanded her aunt in front of him? Why?

  Becci shouldered open the back door and laid the clothes back where she’d found them. Grabbing the notepad beside the telephone, she scribbled a note to Lilly.

  Hopefully, her aunt would be able to return the clothes to Caleb sometime today. Becci placed the note on the table beside the sugar bowl and caught her purse’s shoulder strap. Right now, she had to get to work.

  CALEB HEFTED THE sharp ax to his shoulder, picked up the burlap sack, and headed for the woods. The sun peeked through the trees. It had been dark when he’d come up to the shed from the pond, but not dark enough.