Forever, Lately

by Linore Rose Burkard

  “What? I’m sorry. I’m not trying to pester you.”

  “But that’s what you’re doing.” She stirred the ashes. Not a bit of fire was left.

  “I just want you to know I’m here if you need anything.”

  Claire’s gaze fell to Charlie. “Really? Do you mean that?”

  “I do. Anything.”

  The offer gave her an idea. If she returned to the past and got held up, what would happen to Charlie? She took a breath and figuratively crossed her fingers. “I need a dog sitter. Can you…watch my dog?”

  “That sheepdog?”

  “His name’s Charlie.” Charlie’s tail thumped when he heard his name. Claire bent down to stroke his head.

  “You goin’ somewhere?” Adam asked.

  “A research trip,” she said, hoping he wouldn’t ask for details. She certainly couldn’t give them.

  “When d’you want me to watch him?”

  Claire swallowed. “Today would be perfect.”

  “Until?”

  “Until I call you.” She kept expecting him to flat-out refuse, but so far Adam was being surprisingly open to the idea. He’d fallen quiet, though. Claire felt sure he was about to turn her down. Only he didn’t.

  “Fine. I can be there in…five minutes. Is that too soon?”

  “That’s perfect! And thank you! Now I won’t have to find a kennel.” As soon as she hung up, she felt badly. She knelt down by Charlie. “I’m sorry, old boy. But if I disappear like Grandmamma—what if I can’t get back? I couldn’t bear to think what would happen to you alone here.” Charlie’s large trusting eyes brought tears to hers, so she added, “I wouldn’t be going back except he’ll die if I don’t! You see? I have no choice.”

  She gathered Charlie’s things and put them into a tote bag. It occurred to her that she might not be able to return to the past. It wasn’t as if she controlled it. Well, if she didn’t, she’d get Charlie back sooner rather than later. She felt better at the thought.

  When Adam arrived, she greeted him with a smile.

  “Now, that’s an improvement,” he said, coming in with earnest eyes.

  “What is?”

  “That smile. It’s the first one you’ve ever given me.” He gave her an impish grin. “I like it.” Then his eyes grew more serious. “You’re really pretty when you smile.”

  Ignoring the remark, she picked up the tote and handed it to him. “Thank you very much. Everything you’ll need is in there. He’s fed twice a day, and walked three times. He doesn’t bite, and he loves company. I put a few of his toys in there, and his favorite treats.”

  Charlie sniffed Adam interestedly. Adam scratched his head, and frowned. “Wait a minute. It sounds like you’re planning a long trip. May I ask where you’re going?”

  Claire stared at him. “No. But I’ll try to call.”

  “I hope so. “ He nodded. “So how long will you be gone?”

  “I’m—not sure. Book research is unpredictable.”

  “And where did you say you’re going?”

  She stared again. “A research library. Perhaps a few.”

  Adam took a breath. He gazed at her and bit his lip. His tone went down a notch. “Will you be back before the deadline? You do remember what’s going down with the cottage?”

  “How could I forget? That’s why I have to finish this research as soon as possible. I’ll need a great book contract to buy a new house.” If Adam had a conscience, that ought to give it a good nudge, she thought.

  He cleared his throat, not meeting her eyes. “I spoke to Dad about that…” He peeked at Claire. “We’re happy to offer you a small suite at the lodge. It was scheduled for renovations, so we didn’t book it for the summer. If you want it, it’s yours. Gratis. All you need do is vacate this place before demolition day.”

  Claire folded her arms. The lodge was ritzy and expensive, making the offer seem suspicious. “Why would your family be willing to let me have a suite all summer for free?”

  Adam rubbed his neck and looked around the cottage, then back at Claire. “It makes things easier for us. We don’t want a mess. We don’t want it to get drawn out.”

  “You mean you don’t want me to cause trouble. It’s a bribe.”

  Adam let out a heavy breath. “It’s not like we haven’t made you solid offers on this place, Claire. We’re not unreasonable. We’d much rather you sold it to us than pull it out from under you.” He looked troubled. “You can still sell it to us.”

  When she said nothing, he studied her and moved a step closer. “Look, even if we buy it from you, the suite is still yours. We, uh, could get to know each other better…”

  She looked up at Adam. And thought of St. John. Somehow, Adam’s Nordic good looks paled, literally, next to St. John’s rugged Regency masculinity, refined by his period manners.

  “I’ll call you when I get back,” was all she said.

  He frowned and petted Charlie and then looked back at Claire. He cocked his head to one side. “When you get back, I hope I’ve earned the right to at least have dinner with you?”

  Claire crossed her arms. “I can do better than that.”

  Adam’s eyes lit with curiosity. He slowly smiled. “Is that so?” He looked at her suggestively.

  Claire smiled. “I’ll think about selling the cottage.” Since now she knew Grandmamma no longer wished to return, Claire felt she could safely offer that option.

  “Oh. Well, that’s good, too.” He gave her a husky look and winked. “Not quite as good, but my father will be happy.”

  She smiled sweetly. “Thank you, Adam. I’ll be in touch.” She gave Charlie another hug and then motioned Adam toward the door, but he stood his ground.

  “That’s it? Don’t I get a little gratitude?” His gaze fell to her mouth.

  She turned him toward the door. “You get Charlie. Thank you and good bye!” Note to self: Adam is relentless!

  When he’d gone, she surveyed the room and felt lonely. She’d miss Charlie. And Adam had let in a lot of cold air. She kicked herself for not asking him to get the fire going. She grabbed the tallit and was about to throw it around her shoulders when it hit her. Each time she'd gone to the Regency, it had been around her shoulders and crossing her chest! Yes, she'd been at her laptop, but she’d also been wearing it! Laying it across her lap hadn't done anything, but the tallit was the mechanism. It had to be. How slow she’d been to realize it!

  No wonder Grandmamma had asked if she’d brought it with her. The old lady knew. But she hadn’t wanted Claire to know. Why?

  She sat at her laptop and studied the shawl. “Here goes nothing,” she murmured.

  She took a breath and settled it around her shoulders, and carefully drew it together across her chest. The rushing wind made her grimace, and forced her eyes shut. It felt stronger this time.

  And she was back in the Regency.

  She always wanted to believe in things.

  Kazuo Ishiguro

  CHAPTER 24

  Adam came to a stop under the portico of the front entrance of the lodge. A valet hurried out. As he handed the man his keys, Adam said, “There’s a dog in the backseat. Name’s Charlie. Take him to the kennels.”

  “Wait!” A young girl in a wheelchair was in front of the large automatic doors to the lodge’s entrance. She frowned at Adam. “I told you I want to see the dog!” Blond-haired like her big brother, Adele Winthrop might have been only twelve years old and disabled, but she was no pushover. “You promised I could take care of him if I wanted to.”

  Adam grimaced. “I didn’t think you meant it. Why not let the kennel look after him?” He’d planned on taking Charlie to the kennel from the moment Claire asked him to dog-sit. She probably didn’t know the lodge had its own pampered pet kennel for their rich clients who didn’t want a ski vacation without their pet. They’d take fine care of Charlie—and Claire would never know her dog wasn’t getting his personal attention.

  Adele wheeled forward to the edge of the
curb. “Let me see him.”

  Adam looked at the valet. “Wait a sec. I don’t think she’ll really want him.” He opened the door and Charlie came bounding out, heading straight toward Adele. She shrieked in excitement. When the animal put his large paws on her legs and reached up to lick her face, she smiled and laughed.

  “What’s his name?” she asked her brother. When he told her, she said, “Charlie’s mine, now.” It was in the decided tone of voice she used when something was nonnegotiable. Adam retrieved the tote bag with Charlie’s things from the car and followed his sister wheeling ahead of him into the lodge. He felt heavyhearted. It wouldn’t be fun when he had to return the dog to Claire. Because of her disability, Adele was treated with kid gloves—spoiled as rotten as they came.

  He hoped she’d tire of the animal by then.

  The whole of eternity is present now.

  Kilroy J. Oldster

  CHAPTER 25

  Claire found herself in a water closet. Again! So it was a portal! She thought of Superman changing in phone booths and wondered if a water closet was the time-travel equivalent of a phone booth for her. She peeked out into a corridor, but it wasn’t the ballroom. Was it Grandmamma’s house? She moved along it, thinking it was somehow familiar, and suddenly saw—St. John! Her heart did an unexpected flip.

  He wore a dark blue double-breasted coat over pantaloons and hunting boots. He held a whip in one hand, his hat in the other. His dark good looks almost took her breath away. He spied Claire and stopped short. His head went back.

  “Miss Channing?” he asked in surprise.

  “Hello.” She smiled weakly. How on earth was she going to explain her presence in his house?

  He looked around, as though to see who else was in his corridor. “When did you arrive? No one informed me.”

  “Just now.”

  “Is Lady Ashworth here?”

  “I–no.”

  Now he looked at her sideways. “How did you get here?”

  Claire looked at him helplessly.

  Instead of the annoyance he’d felt on the last occasion when she’d been unable to supply answers, St. John was filled with an uncustomary tenderness. In fact, the more he’d thought of Miss Channing, the better he liked her. And seeing her now filled him with a sudden and surprising wish that she might be often near.

  Just then behind him came running two dalmatians, who stopped momentarily at his feet in greeting. He instantly grasped their collars. When, upon spying Claire they let out low, rumbling growls, she saw why he had. A groom was at their heels.

  “Sorry, sir, I didn’t mean to let them loose.” He attached leashes to the animals’ collars, who were now whimpering to run at Claire.

  Looking at her, St. John said, “Return them to the kennels, Ewen.” He handed the man the whip. As the groom turned to lead them away, Claire said, “Oh, wait! May I pet them?”

  St. John gave her a curious look. “These aren’t my friendliest animals. They’re good- natured but protective.”

  Perhaps because she’d just given up Charlie, Claire said, “Let them smell me, then.” She went towards him. “They’ll not be as wary of me next time they see me.” She knew that with dogs familiarity did not breed contempt, unless one treated them cruelly. She was unconscious of having implied that they surely would see her again. St. John’s eyes sparkled as he nodded his permission.

  The dogs growled again at her approach, but St. John reprimanded them, and she cautiously held out a hand for them to sniff. Both dogs did, and then kept sniffing her, first her feet and then her gown. The groom pulled them back speedily, but Claire giggled and leaned in to them, and when one approached her face with his inquisitive nose, she fell to one knee and stroked him. Soon she was smiling and petting both animals. When one tried to lick her face, she turned her head but chuckled again.

  “What are their names?” she asked.

  “Apollo and Zeus,” he said, now leaning back against the wall with his arms folded, wearing a little smile. “I believe you can beguile anything living,” he murmured, while exchanging a look of surprise with Ewen who affirmed that thought with an instant, “Indeed, sir!”

  “Oh, but anyone could,” she returned, now scratching the dogs behind the ears. “When they’re this good-natured.” Above her head the groom and St. John exchanged another look. St. John came to his full height. He nodded at Ewen. “Take them,” he said.

  Claire stood up. “Do you have other dogs?”

  “I do,” he said, gazing at her.

  Her face scrunched in thought. “If I don’t misremember my research, you keep the dalmatians to accompany your coach on long journeys, is that right?”

  He responded with a slow smile. “Research. For your, eh, historical novels, of course?”

  She smiled. “You remember.”

  He offered his arm, and then patted her hand when she took it. “Come. We’ll get to the bottom of this.”

  “The bottom of what?” she asked, as they moved down the corridor.

  “Of how you showed up in my corridor just now, unannounced. And with your bonnet, shawl and gloves. My butler has been remiss.”

  “Oh, no. I can explain all that, but you won’t believe me,” she said hurriedly, pulling them to a stop in front of one of the paintings that lined the walls of the corridor.

  St. John wore a look of patient amusement, while Claire studied the artwork. It was a beautiful rural landscape with a coach and two dalmatians, one running alongside it, and one just visible beneath the rear axles.

  “Are these your dogs?” she asked, pleased, but amazed.

  “They were,” he said. “One is their mother.”

  She turned to him. “Oh, I’m sorry.”

  He shook his head as if to say, it was no matter.

  “I remember this from last time,” she said, turning back to it. “I can see it better now in daylight.” She turned to him. “Though corridors here are very dim.”

  His brows furrowed, but he said nothing. Dim? Compared to what, was his instant thought, but he was loath to plague this woman. She was like Miss Andrews without the devilry—only infinitely more pleasing.

  He moved her on, bringing her to the library and then rang for the butler. When he appeared, he said, “Grey, when Miss Channing arrived, she was alone?”

  Grey looked in surprise at Claire. He seemed bereft of words for a moment. “I could not say, sir.”

  “Eh? Did you not open the door to her?”

  “No, sir. Though I have been at the door most all morning.” He gave Claire a strange look.

  Julian rubbed his chin, the ghost of a smile about his lips. “Am I to understand that Miss Channing gained entry without your knowledge, Grey?”

  The butler swallowed. “I am afraid, sir—I don’t see how, sir.”

  Claire sat by guiltily.

  “Take her things. And find out who let her in.”

  Claire removed her bonnet and handed it to him—after staring at it appreciatively for it was a dashing little thing with a small feather, trimmed in lace. St. John caught her look of surprised admiration, and looked away quickly, stifling a smile.

  Claire kept the tallit, not surprised to find it hanging from her elbows like a shawl. She might need its warmth, for her gown was of the popular thin muslin of the day over an equally light chemise, and the large room lacked the central heat she was used to. Even the cottage was warmer with its single fireplace, for its rooms were small, unlike the high-ceilinged, long library.

  The butler accepted her articles and left. When the door shut behind him, Claire said, “Do not fault the man. Nobody let me in. I just showed up in your water closet. I don’t know why—except this shawl has something do with it.”

  His brows furrowed, and his mouth wavered. “The shawl?” he said, looking at her interestedly.

  She nodded with large-eyed earnestness. “Yes, I just figured it out!” She was going to explain further but fell silent as he returned to the bell pull and rang again. A
footman appeared almost at once.

  “Send a messenger to Lady Ashworth.” He moved to a desk and took a stationer’s notebook, opened an inkpot and dipped a quill. After scribbling a message, he folded it and gave it to the footman. “No one but Her Ladyship is to see that.”

  “Aye, sir.”

  “And send a maid in here immediately.”

  “Aye, sir.” The footman took off.

  St. John turned to her with his hands folded behind his back. “That will stop Grandmamma worrying about you. I shouldn’t like to take you from here in broad daylight, or I’d deliver you to her. She’ll have to come and collect you.” He studied her. “What made you come here again?”

  She looked at him with wide eyes, wondering how to explain. Why had she come there, indeed? To save his life? She couldn’t say that. “I do not control where I show up—but I suppose I was concerned about you.”

  “Concerned about me?” He gazed at her with surprise. “On what account?”

  Claire wavered. She couldn’t tell him what she knew; that a carriage accident involving Clarissa would cause his death. Looking at him, she felt very sorrowful about it, though. She bit her lip.

  Watching her keenly, he gave a little smile. “Never mind,” he said, coming and sitting across from her, “but I should like to know how you got by Grey.” He grinned. “The old boy prides himself on being up on all the comings and goings of this establishment.”

  Claire sighed. “I told you, I just showed up in the water closet.” She paused, gazing at him helplessly. Why couldn’t she make up a good lie? Of course he couldn’t believe a word of her story for even she wouldn’t believe it if she hadn’t experienced it herself. It was mortifying, but Claire felt compelled, for some reason, to be wholly truthful with St. John—no matter how outrageous or foolish the truth sounded. The coaching accident was the only thing she would not speak of. Why should she? She was there to ensure it never happened.

  Blushing, she added, “It sounds absurd, I know it; you must think me a simpleton. And you shan’t believe me, no matter how many times I explain.” Where had those words come from? “You shan’t believe me.” Once again she was speaking effortlessly in period correct speech—as if she was born for it. How could a shawl account for that?