Across the Winds of Time (20 page)

Darius allowed his gaze to travel back to the computer and visibly relaxed when men’s shoes appeared on the screen.

“Now, these are interesting!”

We poured over the different sorts of shoes available while I recommend a pair of sneakers, some work boots and something casual like sandals. Darius couldn’t fathom the idea of wearing open-toed shoes but professed himself willing to try when I demonstrated my own flip flops by wriggling my toes and expressing my pleasure in their comfort.

I alerted to the sound of a vehicle coming up the drive. I jumped up and ran to the front window. A white van pulled up to the porch area.

“The electrician is here. You’ve got to hide.”

Darius slumped. “Again? All right! I’ll either be in the cabin or the shed out back, or perhaps I will take a walk to the cemetery. If you have any regard for me at all, bring me something cool to drink while I linger outside. One would even do that for livestock on such a warm day as today.”

I laughed and pushed at him.

“You’ll be all right. I’ll bring you something later. I’m sorry it has to be like this, but until we figure out a way to make you look like you belong in the twenty-first century—or at least some less historical clothing—you need to stay hidden.”

I backed him up to the kitchen door.

“My clothing?” He glanced down at his suit. “What’s wrong with my clothing? It is in good repair—in fact, quite new.”

I opened the kitchen door and pushed him out.

“It’s a hundred and thirty years out of date. Now, go!” I ran back to the front of the house and let the electrician in.

The electrician, a burly middle-aged man of few words, set to work immediately. I knew he’d worked on old Victorian houses before, so he knew what he was getting into. Once he’d done a cursory examination of the house, he gave me the news.

“This is a big house, Miss Hamilton. The wiring isn’t really half bad. It’s knob and tube wiring. Needs some upgrading, for sure, to get it up to 200 amps. That’s what you need to run modern appliances. It’s gonna take me a couple of days though. I can get started on it now, but I’m gonna need to finish up tomorrow.”

“Oh! Well, that sounds great, Mr. Cooney. The plumber is coming tomorrow. Will he get in your way?”

“Nah,” Mr. Cooney answered as he headed for the door. “Water and electricity don’t mix too well—so we won’t get in each other’s way.” He paused and rubbed his nearly bald head. “Except maybe when I set up the outlets for the washer and dryer.”

“Okay,” I murmured. What was I going to tell Darius? I couldn’t possibly keep him standing outside in the heat for the rest of the day and all day tomorrow. “Well, I’ll be around if you need me,” I called out to his back as he went out the front door.

I turned and headed back through the kitchen and out the side door. I stalked through the unkempt grass until I reached the small shed at the back of the property. A rattling of metal caught my attention, and I peeked inside the dim interior.

“Hello there!” I called out. “What are you doing?”

Darius had thrown his jacket on a hook, folded up his sleeves and loosened his collar. He bent over a rusted push lawn mower.

“I am testing the blade. It is time to start earning my keep.” He threw a grin over his shoulder. “Has the electrician come and gone already?”

“No, he’s just gone to get what he needs out of his van. He says it’s going to take two days to upgrade the wiring.”

Darius straightened and wiped his hands. I eyed him speculatively.

“You know, you could pass for...um...modern day—if you leave the jacket off, remove the vest and take off your tie.”

Darius looked down at his clothing.

“Remove my vest? Whatever for? I would feel half dressed. This suit requires a vest.”

“Because then you won’t have to spend half of today and most of tomorrow out here.” I had a quick thought. “That is...if anyone can see you anyway.”

Darius tilted his head and gave me a sly grin. “Shall we go find out?” He ripped off his tie, unbuttoned his vest and hung it up with his jacket. He gestured toward the house with a gallant bow.

“Shall we?”

I already had second thoughts.

“Okay, but I warn you. Don’t mess with the electrician, and for goodness sake, don’t tell him you built the house.”

“Molly, I am not an imbecile!” He pretended to look insulted, but the sparkle in his eyes told me otherwise. “And what do you mean...
don’t mess
with the electrician?”

“I mean...don’t get in his way. I have a feeling you’re going to be all over him—just don’t get in his way. I don’t think they like that.”

“
All over him?
I cannot imagine such a sight. I think I know what you mean, but I find some of your expressions...visually revolting.”

“As long as you know what I mean, my friend!” I quirked an eyebrow and gave him a warning eye.

“Yes, my love,” Darius murmured docilely. I turned and walked out of the shed, hiding the broad grin that felt like it stretched from ear to ear.

I pulled open the screen door a moment later and tiptoed inside.

“What are you doing?” Darius asked behind me.

“Shhh.” I put a finger to my lips and whispered. “I’m not sure what to expect. Will he see you or won’t he? This is huge, Darius!”

The electrician rattled about in his vehicle, no doubt pulling out tools and other equipment.

“Why?” Darius joined me in whisper.

I turned to face him.

“Because...think of what this means. If he can see you, then everyone will be able to see you—the plumber, the mailman, Cynthia and Laura, who know what you look like from your photograph, my sister...”

“Your sister?”

“I forgot to tell you. She’s coming to visit the week after next.”

“Ah! A guest! I look forward to meeting her. I wonder if she is the same sister—”

“Shhh... He’s coming inside.”

I glided out to the living room to greet Mr. Cooney once again, refusing to turn around to see if Darius followed. I suspected I would soon find out.

“Mr. Cooney.”

“I prefer Bill,” he stated flatly with a nod as he looked beyond me.

I glanced over my shoulder to see Darius jump into action. He extended his hand, and Bill adjusted his tools to one hand while he grasped Darius’s hand with the other.

“Oh, this is my...friend, Darren Fergland, Bill.”

“Darren,” Bill repeated curtly.

“The pleasure is mine, Bill.”

“Well, if y’all will excuse me, I’d better get going. I’m gonna start in the basement.” His face seemed etched in a permanent scowl, but that could have been from years of staring at tiny wires in dark spaces. He lumbered off as if his back hurt, dragging coils of wire, clanking tools on his waist belt and hoisting another bag of tools over his shoulder.

Darius turned to me with raised brows. “Darren? Fergland? Egads, woman. I am Irish, not German!”

“Well, I had to give you a name that no one would recognize, so there you are.” I grinned without mercy.

A nearby clunking and clattering indicated Bill had found the basement stairs leading off from the kitchen and was descending the narrow opening.

“I think I should just accompany him to see what he is about.” Darius turned to follow.

“Darius,” I warned, giving him my sternest look. He paused for a moment and gave me one of his endearing lopsided smiles.

“Molly, my dear, I need to know what changes he is making so that I can make repairs in the future, would you not agree?”

The word “future” sounded wonderful to me. I hoped there would be a future for us.

“Please don’t mention anything about building the house.” That would be all we would need, I thought. Gossip about the strange man in the Victorian house in the small town, although Bill really didn’t look like he talked very much at any rate.

“A foolish notion, indeed.” Darius beamed and turned away. Within seconds, I heard him clattering down the stairs behind Bill.

Hours later, following a dull day of emptying boxes throughout the house, interspersed with curious visits to the kitchen where I listed to the frequent loud pop of a staple gun mingled with masculine voices, I heard footsteps coming up the basement stairs. I dashed into the kitchen to study their faces.

Bill emerged first, an unexpected toothy grin on his rounded face, followed by Darius who put a companionable arm around Bill’s shoulder as they passed me with my mouth no doubt hanging open.

“Your man here knows quite a bit about Victorian houses, Miss Hamilton,” Bill nodded approvingly. “Good thing he was here. Saved me a lot of time, tracing the wiring.”

Darius threw me a quick discreet wink, and they walked to the front door where Bill said his farewells, promising to the return bright and early in the morning to finish the work.

Darius waved him off and turned to face me. He leaned against the doorsill and put up his hands in mock defense.

“I did not tell him that I built the house.”

“I can see that,” I murmured. A smile tugged at the corners of my mouth, and I shook my head. What an irresistible man he was. It seemed he had even charmed the scowl right off the taciturn electrician.

“You goof!” I punched him playfully in the arm—if only to break the spell he had over me—before I turned in the direction of the kitchen.

“Ouch!” He pretended to nurse his arm as he followed me. “I am sure the term...em...‘goof’ is not a compliment, but your eyes tell me it is not necessarily an insult either.”

I gave him a sly smile but held my tongue, as I handed him a glass of lemonade and set a bowl of chips and dip on the table.

“This is just a snack to tide you over till dinner—whatever that will be. You missed lunch.”

Darius sat down at the table and picked up a chip.

“What are these? Fried potatoes?”

I joined him.

“Yes, potato chips. You dip them in here...and eat them.” I popped one in my mouth and crunched.

Darius tasted it, and then took a bite. Crumbs fell onto his shirt, and he tried to capture them as best he could.

I laughed outright.

“It’s better if you put the whole thing in your mouth at once. They’re messy.”

“And very greasy,” he noted as he reached for a napkin on the table. The next chip went into the dip, and I could see from the glaze in his eyes he was hooked.

“These are wonderful. Just wonderful,” he praised.

“They are, aren’t they? And they’re not good for you, either.”

Darius loaded another chip with an excessive amount of dip.

“Why not?” The chip went in, and he wiped at his mustache once again.

“Because they’re oily and salty, and none of that is good for us.” I hurried to get some dip before it disappeared.

“You have crumbs on your mustache,” I noted, my gaze never far from him.

“Do I?” He wiped his mouth again.

“So, how long have you had a mustache?” I asked. “Does everyone wear mustaches...I mean, did everyone? Does...” I gave my head a quick shake and snagged another chip. “You know what I mean.”

“No, not everyone. I have always had a mustache, ever since I was a young man. Why? Is it displeasing to you?” He stopped chewing and fingered the thick band of silky dark brown hair above his lip.

“I’m just not used to it,” I conceded. I would have loved to see the entirety of his mouth, certain that it was as beautiful as I suspected.

“I will shave it off immediately.” He rose from the table, strode from the room and could be heard clattering up the stairs.

“Wait! Darius! Wait! I didn’t mean you should shave it off.” I rushed after him and pounded up the stairs. He was already facing the mirror in the bathroom, my shaving cream in his hand, the disposable razor at the ready.

“Darius. Please wait!”

“No, I think I will do this. Bill looked quite comfortable without a mustache or beard.” He bent down to wash his face.

“Bill didn’t have much hair, Darius...anywhere.”

He straightened and grabbed a towel from the rack, and shot me a grin.

“Will you be watching then? I welcome your company, of course.”

I sighed, wishing I’d kept my mouth shut. It seemed as if there was nothing he wouldn’t do to please me—and I needed to honor that wonderful trait of his. I had to make certain that my needs were few, to keep him from going to extreme lengths to meet them.

“Are you sure about this?” I asked.

Darius nodded firmly and lathered his face, pausing once to regard the shaving cream in his hand.

“I love this can—how the cream simply squirts out without the necessity of mixing it up. Wonderful invention.”

I took a seat on the edge of the tub. “Well, yes, I’ll watch then—if you don’t mind.”

“Not at all. You can come to my aid should I slice myself with this silly pink razor.” The brightness of his grin outshone the white shaving cream on his face.

Darius stretched his upper lip over his teeth and began to scrape the top edge of his mustache with the razor. I winced.

“Don’t cut yourself,” I warned, suddenly anxious. What if shaving the mustache took all the character from his face? What if he suddenly became a stranger to me?

Darius glanced at me in the mirror and winked, and I sighed at the gesture. No, there was no chance that he wouldn’t be as handsome—if not more so—without the mustache.

The process took a good deal longer than I imagined, and involved repeated applications of shaving cream and rinsing. At one point, Darius mumbled for another razor as the one in his hands seemed suddenly dull. I jumped up and fished another one out of the box, suspecting the pink disposable razors were never intended to shave off a mustache as thick as his.

At long last, Darius took one last swipe with the razor and bent down to rinse his face. I lowered my head to stare at my shoes, afraid to look at him. Would I recognize him?

“Well, what do you think, Molly?”

I looked up with some reluctance. Darius patted his face with the towel and lowered it to his waist. Without the mustache, he seemed suddenly vulnerable, the expressions of his mouth now fully exposed. I stared at him as my heart pulsed in my throat. His face reddened under my continued ogle, and he dropped his gaze for a moment.