by Izzy James
She smiled. “Yes.”
8
Olivia’s hand gently rested in the crook of Max’s arm as they walked into the glass and steel building. She smelled of cinnamon and evergreens. She wore a cranberry-red knitted dress that clung to her enough to keep him distracted for the rest of the day.
He couldn’t identify the smell that met them inside. It made him think the place scrubbed clean. The walls were painted green like Spanish moss. Flowers cut of colored paper adorned the walls, interspersed with framed photographs of the Yorktown waterfront. At the end of the hallway was a tall, half-moon desk. Behind the desk sat a woman dressed to meet dignitaries. Some things apparently didn’t change. Face heavily made up didn’t disguise the creases at grandmotherly eyes. He couldn’t decipher what she’d done to her hair. It wasn’t a high wig, but the color was not natural nor was its height. Perched atop was a conical red hat with a white fluffy brim.
“Good afternoon, Dr. Woods.”
Doctor Woods? She had not told him that.
“Good afternoon, Janice. This is my friend, Max Ballard.”
Janice turned those grandmotherly eyes to him. “Nice to meet you Mr. Ballard.”
Olivia took him by the hand and led him down a long corridor of shiny floors and green walls. Chatter leaked into the hallway as Olivia picked up her pace. They entered a large room full of long white tables. Tables laden with food lined a side wall opposite a bank of tall windows. Decorations from the ceiling sparkled red, green, and silver. In the far corner a piano sat on a wheeled platform.
“I’d like you to meet someone.” Olivia took his hand once more and led him to a table near the piano. A frail black man sat staring at a plate of food on the table before him. A woman sat beside him chewing.
“Hello, Mr. Johnson.”
A weak smile pulled the man’s countenance toward Olivia. “Mr. Johnson, I’d like to introduce my friend, Max. Max also plays the piano.”
The man kept his face to Olivia.
“Mr. Johnson, do you like piano music?” Max asked.
“He played for many years.”
Max inclined his head toward the piano. “Mr. Johnson, would you like to play with me?”
The old man shook his head and remained seated next to his wife while Max moved to the piano.
Max arched his fingers over the keys and prayed it would be right. He began to play the song that he’d not named, but gave to Olivia. He would never play it again without thinking of how right she was in his arms and in his life. She was gift the Lord had to bring him a long way to find.
Soon the man looked up from the floor and with the help of his wife made a shaky step to the bench. Max reached the crescendo of the piece when Mr. Johnson added a few notes in quick succession. Max followed the man’s lead as his fingers loosened and a rich melody exploded into the room.
Behind them Mrs. Johnson began to sing in a smoky contralto. Before long Olivia replaced Max on the bench and the room gathered to sing songs all of them new. It reminded Max of snowy nights at The Swan with his friends.
After a short hour or so caretakers quietly arrived and took their places next to their charges. In groups of twos and threes patients and caregivers shuffled out of the room slowly still laughing and reminiscing. Olivia arrived in the empty space beside Max. She led him back the way they came. He tipped his head at Janice on their way past the half-moon desk.
Olivia’s fingers entwined with his own they entered the twilight of the parking lot.
“Thanks for coming.”
“I enjoyed meeting Mr. and Mrs. Johnson.”
“I love them.”
Of course she did. He’d rarely met another as generous of spirit and full of kindness as Olivia Woods. Would she have kindness for him if she knew what he’d done to Adelaide? If she had any sense, and he knew she did, she’d flee from him as fast as her feet would carry her.
What must it be like to love someone as long as the Johnson’s had? To know that they would always be there? It was not a question he’d entertained often so set had he been on his music and fighting with his family about business. Now here was such a person and he daren’t tell her what he’d done.
Olivia parked her car next to the Ballard House. “About the dancing.” Max wore that boyish grin. Her heart tripped.
“What dancing?”
“Did you not say there would be dancing at this party?”
“I said maybe.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever been to a party where there was music and no dancing.”
“I have an idea.”
Hand in hand they entered the conservatory.
“Would you like to dance?”
“We’ve no one to play for us.”
She retrieved her phone from her back pocket.
“I insist that you take me to get one of those.”
“I will.” She grinned.
“Max.”
He was at her shoulder in an instant. “The “E” is back.”
Neither of them spoke. Dread squeezed Olivia’s chest. What would happen when the last key returned? Would he disappear in an instant the way he came? Would they have time to say good-bye?
He ran a gentle hand down, stopping at the small of her back. “Shall we dance?”
She placed the phone on the piano and clicked ‘play’ on “Unchained Melody” by The Righteous Brothers.
Max stood across from her right arm extended. Olivia stepped into the area of his arms. His right arm enfolded her. “We do it differently now.”
“’Tis a shock.”
“I think you’ll like it.” She laid her right hand in his left and placed his right hand on her back. He pulled her closer as she began to sway and circle in time with the music.
The song ended with his nose nestled next to her ear. He danced her over to the piano. “Play it again.”
She did.
The warmth of Max’s embrace carried her all the way home.
Grams looked up from her knitter when Olivia entered the room. “How was the party?”
“Lovely. Max played piano and Mr. Johnson played with him. I was—”
Grams stood pointing a slightly bent forefinger. “I warned you to be careful, but you can’t tell anybody anything.” She spun on her heel and headed toward the kitchen. Olivia followed.
“Do you want some cheesecake?”
Olivia sat on a barstool at the counter. “The E is back.”
“He’ll be gone soon.”
“I don’t want to think about it.”
“That always works.”
Grams placed a healthy piece of cake in front of Olivia and pulled up a stool across from her.
“I know what you said, but I can’t help it.”
Grams said nothing.
Olivia loaded her fork with cheesecake. “Max had a good point. Why would God bring him here to us if we were not supposed to care about him?”
“I didn’t say we were not supposed to care about him. Caring about him and falling in love with him is not the same thing.”
They finished their cake in silence.
“Do you want to come with me tomorrow to get the Christmas tree?”
“Depends on the weather.”
They cleaned up the few dishes they’d dirtied with the snack.
“I’m glad you’re here.” Olivia whispered as she hugged Grams before heading off to bed.
The next day Olivia arrived at Ballard House with the SUV. Grams had begged off going out in the light rain.
Max met her on the front porch.
“Would you like to come with me to pick out a Christmas tree?”
“Sure.” He grinned. “What’s a Christmas tree?”
“You have sooo much to learn.”
“And shall ye teach me, Dr. Woods?” Her lungs deflated when he pulled her to his chest and planted a chaste kiss on her cheek.
“Olivia.”
“Olivia.” The sound of her name filtered through his accent on lips so close to hers nearly
buckled her knees. Which wasn’t doing a bit of good at protecting her heart.
“Christmas trees were introduced in the mid-eighteen hundreds.”
“And where does one get one of these Christmas trees?”
“There are places to go where one can cut down a tree and then there Christmas tree lots where one can buy already-cut trees. We get the already-cut kind.”
“I should like to cut my own tree.”
“That does not surprise me, but this year we’ll have to get one already cut because I do not know of a place nearby to cut our own. Besides, Grams and I have been going to the same tree lot all my life.”
“Customer loyalty. I like it. Lead on.” Max executed an exaggerated bow.
The Beer Tree Lot was not much more than a small patch of field carved out on the side of the road. Trees leaned against an old horse fence. Twinkle lights looped between poles in-between the rows of trees.
“They’re just pine trees.”
“Well, yes.”
“One can get pine trees anywhere in Virginia.”
“Well.”
“If one owns the land.”
“Yes.”
“Next year, I’m cutting my own.”
Next year. Olivia’s heart leapt at the possibility. Would he be here next year? If he was there was no guarantee that he’d still want to steal kisses from her.
She led him through each row to look at each tree before she decided on a Frazier fir slightly taller than six feet. Max helped Mr. Beer tie the tree to the top of the truck.
“Now for the fun part.” Olivia grinned as she left the tree lot and steered the truck toward home.
“What is the fun part?”
“We decorate it.”
“Like the decorations I’m seeing in Yorktown?”
“Exactly like that.”
“We would never waste a candle by putting it in a window. Or food. We never waste food.”
“Right. Of course the decorations are just for that. I don’t think anyone cares if they are historically accurate as long as they are pretty. And electricity is cheap.”
His eyes rounded in surprise.
“Compared to making candles. All those window candles are electric and that is much cheaper than real candles.”
Grams opened the door as they came to a stop in the driveway.
Between them they wrestled the tree into the stand and through the door.
“Olivia, will you get the decorations?” Olivia’s eyes widened at the request, but she said nothing.
When Olivia left the room Dr. Rita wagged a bent finger toward him. He followed her to the kitchen. He’d known a conversation with Olivia’s grandmother was inevitable and necessary. If Olivia’s father were still living Max would have approached him first.
“Dr. Rita—”
She put her hand up. “What are your intentions with regard to my granddaughter?”
“Honorable, ma’am.”
“By that I presume you mean to marry her?”
“You are aware of my predicament. If I am allowed to stay here, I will marry her—if she will have me—”
“I want your promise that you will not take her with you back to your time.” Eyes enlarged by her spectacles heightened the appearance of her intellect.
“I don’t think anyone can go back with me, but regardless, I cannot make such a promise.”
“Of course he can’t, Grams.” Olivia came to stand at the end of the counter between him and her grandmother. “It’s my decision to make.”
Her grandmother disengaged from the counter. A wobble in her step caused her to reach out to the far wall as she made her way back to the living room and the tree. The protectiveness he felt for Olivia draped over Dr. Rita. Olivia’s happiness would include the happiness of this woman. Max would not allow either of them to be harmed.
9
She followed as he led them to his conservatory once again. “Please sit.” Olivia chose a cushion on a wooden settee. Max took her hand and placed himself at an angle toward her.
“Olivia.” A hunger warmed the cool depths of his blue-green eyes. “Is there anyone I need to be concerned about?”
Giddy excitement rustled through her belly. “I’m not sure I understand.”
“You have already told me ye are not married.”
“And you aren’t either.”
“Yes, but is there anyone, anyone courting ye?”
Joy bubbled and threatened to break out in laughter. She put it away. “No, Max. No one is courting me, or even interested in courting me.”
“Garrett?”
“Garrett? Courting me?” She rolled her eyes to the ceiling. “No. I mean, Grams has said for years that I should think of him, but he and I are just not like that.”
“That’s not what I saw.”
“I saw that too, but trust me, it’s the first time. I always thought he fancied himself my brother. Let’s chalk it up to that until I have a chance to talk to him.”
“Be gentle.”
Sorrow ached from the depths of his eyes.
Suddenly Olivia understood. “Who was she?”
Max stood and paced the floor. Olivia waited.
“Her name is Adelaide. She’s fifteen, or was the night I left.” Olivia remained quiet. “Sam and I and a couple of others were at the assembly rooms. I’d had a tankard, but just one. Sam had just been betrothed to the girl he’d dreamed of. We teased him. They teased me. Holding on to bachelorhood.” He crossed his arms and continued walking the carpet. “And then she was there. Adelaide, her mother, sisters. Her Aunt Rebekca. It was late in the evening when she passed by. Jabez stopped her by saying that I wished to dance with her. She turned to me, a question in her eyes. Adelaide cannot dance. Her leg was crushed by a wagon wheel when she was a child. They are not the same length anymore, her legs.” Heat flushed Olivia’s cheeks. “She’s always fancied me, ye see. She’s less than half my age, but her mother is friends with my mother and I never minded the little crippled child following me about. I began to realize that people were making incorrect assumptions.” He dropped his head and inhaled deeply. “I looked at her open and trusting face and said ‘What interest do I have in a cripple half my age?’” Olivia gasped. “Sam and Jabez laughed out right. Adelaide turned away. I finished my ale and came here.” He sat at the piano. “Rebecka was here in minutes. Still cocksure I played dooming music while she railed.”
“What was her name?”
“Adelaide Cooper.”
“I’m going to see if I can find out what became of her.”
“Can you do that?”
“It depends. There were two major fires and much was lost, but I can try.”
“I cannot imagine it will make much of a difference.”
“You are here for a reason.”
“Yes.”
“I’ve gotta go.”
He came to her then, hands reached out. “Olivia.”
She stepped back and wrapped her arms around her midsection. “I have one question. Do you think to make love to me to make up for Adelaide? One cripple for another?” She’d not anticipated the shocked hurt pooled in his eyes. “If so you can forget it.” She walked out of the conservatory without his help.
He grabbed her hand. She stopped and spun to face him.
“Do you want to know what I think of you?”
He moved in close, close enough she could breathe his breath. She placed hands on his chest to push but found she didn’t have the will.
“You are the only woman who has ever made me feel this way.”
His heart beat into her hands.
“Maybe it is how long I’ve been alone, but I don’t think so. I am one and thirty. Not a boy.”
A memory flashed of Max and Garrett at the pub table. “No one would ever confuse you with a boy.”
“I grasped everything I could to fight the assumption that I would marry Adelaide. It was wrong to be cruel, but I was not incorrect in my other assessments. She i
s—or was—too young for me.”
“About what I said—”
“Dearest Olivia, I would love ye if you had no legs at all.” She gave him a little smile. “Ye said I was here for a reason.”
“Yes.”
“I do not believe that reason is Adelaide. I am not supposed to go back to marry Adelaide. If I am granted the choice, I will stay with ye.”
She could barely breathe around the fullness of her heart. She sought his eyes. “And if you’re not?”
“Then I will wait for ye.”
Olivia met his lips. He kissed her hard, demanding, pleading his heart to hers. She could hear his soul call to her own if not to God Himself.
Please.
He released her from his embrace and held her hands as he faded away.
Olivia grasped for him into the space he’d just occupied. She splintered her fingers over the clapboards searching for the entrance to his conservatory.
Gone.
Max’s head spun. Before he could grasp her, Olivia was gone. Max brought his hands back to his chest. He landed on the piano-bench before he knew what happened. Night had fallen and the staccato of an angry female voice surrounded him.
Cold air swirled into the room when Rebecka Styles opened the door to leave.
He surged to his feet. “Wait!”
She turned her head.
“Where is she? Where is Adelaide?” Max took Miss Styles’ arm. “Take me to her. Now.”
“I shall do no such thing. Don’t you think you’ve done enough damage for one night?”
“I cannot undo such damage if I do not speak to the girl.”
Miss Style eyes rounded.
“Take me to her at once.”
She said nothing, but stiffly hurried down the street. Max hung on for fear of being lost in the curse on the street this time. Adelaide was at home.
“He wants to see Adelaide,” Miss Styles told her sister.
Olivia side-stepped into the living room to avoid brushing the walls with her new gown. No wonder Max thought she’d looked like an ill-dressed orphan in her docent costume. The dress fit her snugly everywhere but below the hips, where she was as free as in a nightgown.