Across the Winds of Time (26 page)

Darius turned to me and took my other hand.

“Molly, my love, I would not knowingly leave you. I cannot bear the thought either, no matter how much I threaten to do so.” He turned to look at the road. “But if there is some other recourse for us, I must discover it.” He raised my hand to his lips. “Watch for me, my love. If I begin to fade, come for me and bring me back.” He disengaged his hands from mine and turned resolutely toward the road.

Fighting back the terror that threatened to freeze me into place, I followed, trying to direct my focus on the task at hand. I had no doubt he would begin to disappear once again. Could I bring him back before it was too late?

I primed myself to jump.

Darius took several hesitant steps onto the dirt road. The rigidity of his body revealed the extent of his concern, and that frightened me even more.

“You don’t have to do this, Darius,” I whispered.

Darius looked down at his feet and turned to me with a hopeful half smile.

“I am still here,” he murmured. He raised his arms and gazed at his palms.

And then it began.

Darius’s hands took on a transparency that began to spread to his arms. His smile faded, and he turned to stare at me, alarm in his eyes.

“Molly!” he said urgently. His knees buckled as if he were about to faint.

“Darius!” I screamed as I lunged for him. I wrapped my arms around his chest as he sagged against me. I faltered. His weight was too great. I couldn’t pull him from the road. I fell under him, hitting the dirt with a thud, and Darius fell against me...at least what was left of him.

Sobbing with terror, I threw a frenzied glance over my shoulder. Only four feet to the drive. I could do this, I swore! Marmaduke ran back and forth across the entrance, meowing, tail twitching, the fur on his back standing on end.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Sara running down the path toward me, shouting something, but I could not hear her words.

“Help me, Sara,” I tried to scream, but I couldn’t hear my own words.

A dizzying kaleidoscope of images flashed across my consciousness. Darius stood over a grave in the cemetery, blood dripped from my shoulder, long skirts hampered escape, a man shouted at me. I clutched at Darius, but I could not feel him. Our surroundings whirled around us like a vortex. The wind picked up and blew my hair around my face. Blackness descended, and I felt myself slump.

****

“Molly? Molly? Can you hear me?”

I lifted heavy lids to see Darius’s face close to mine. We still sat on the dirt road, but Darius now held me in his lap as he had that day at the cemetery. Had I fainted again?

“Darius?”

“Thank goodness you are awake, Molly.”

I jerked upright. Everything came back to me. Darius stepping into the road. His smile. The transparency of his hands. I stared at him with wonder and grabbed his shirt.

“Darius? Are you still here?” I looked past him and saw something that seemed completely out of place. I distinctly remembered a crop of corn growing across the road—tall, green, luscious stalks that swayed in the breeze. But now the corn was gone, replaced by a much shorter field of something resembling green hay.

“I am, my love, but I am not certain that we are where we were.” He followed my gaze. “Something is not quite as it was only moments ago.”

I pulled out of his arms and struggled to my feet. A wave of dizziness caught me by surprise. I put out a hand to steady myself and Darius caught it as he stood.

“Do you feel well, Molly?” he asked.

“I think so,” I murmured with a hand to my head. I looked over at the field of hay once again.

“Wasn’t a field of corn over there this morning? I could have sworn...”

Darius glanced over his shoulder and returned his gaze to my face.

“I think you should turn around, my dear. It seems you were right.”

I turned slowly, avoiding another wave of dizziness, and followed Darius’s gaze toward the house.

I gasped and squeezed his hand.

There, before me, stood the house—no longer sporting faded pastel paints and a dingy white porch. The house shone with fresh gray paint and bright white trim.

I took an involuntary step back. Darius grabbed me into his arms and steadied me.

“Where are we?” I mumbled, straining to focus on the house, though I had a feeling I knew. The small bushes separating the yard from the road in no way resembled the massive hedges I’d grown accustomed to. The tall oak trees to the right of the garden seemed little more than saplings.

“Well, my dear, it appears that we are at the house, but it seems we are now in my time. The house is as I left it. This must be 1880.”

I thought I might faint again, but the strength of Darius’s embrace kept me on my feet.

A rumbling sound from the left caught my ear, accompanied by snorting and wooden creaking. I looked down the road, and saw a wagon pulled by two horses.

“Is that a wagon, Darius?” I asked incredulously.

“Come, Molly, we must get you into the house. I may be able to explain your presence, but I cannot explain away your bare limbs.” While I gawked at the unusual sight, Darius grabbed my hand and whisked me down the dirt path toward the house. I threw a last look over my shoulder at the approaching wagon. A bent figure hunched over the reins, a dark wide-brimmed hat shading his face. He was still too far away to see distinctly. The jingling sound of the livery sounded as if it came straight from a Western movie.

I followed Darius toward the house in a daze past a fairly well-manicured lawn, the smell of freshly cut grass in the air. He pulled me onto the porch and strode toward the door. The white paint of the porch gleamed, accentuating the graceful dark black wrought iron furniture. Darius pushed open the door and pulled me inside with a quick glance over my shoulder. I followed his gaze, amazed that I could see the length of the road without the tall hedges. Two dark horses continued to mosey along the road as if the driver had all day.

Darius shut the door behind us, and I caught quick impressions of the house before I turned to Darius. The living room looked familiar yet different as Darius had furnished it with blue and rose upholstered couches and chairs. Delicate lace curtains fluttered in the breeze of the open windows.

“What’s happening?” I leaned into him, disoriented, confused, wondering if I was caught up in a dream.

Darius wrapped his arms around me.

“Mr. Ferguson, is that you? Where have you been?” The warbling female voice was soon followed by a plump matronly woman in a brown ankle-length dress with a white apron tied around her waist. She stopped short when she saw us.

Darius put me behind him—as if he could hide me.

“Ah! Mrs. White. It is so good to see you again. Have I been missing for a while?”

I peeked around Darius’s back to see that she stood stock still with her jaw gaping open. I don’t know who she was more shocked to see—Darius or myself. She seemed astonished to see us both.

“Oh, my goodness, Mr. Ferguson. We had no idea where you’d gone. You simply disappeared without a word.” I heard a note of reproach in her voice, but I also heard genuine affection and concern. I knew exactly how the woman felt. Loving Darius was not always an easy task.

“Yes, I am so sorry, Mrs. White. Circumstances beyond my control...” Darius kept me at his back and gave me a quick reassuring squeeze. At least, I hoped it was meant to be reassuring. If it were a warning to run, I didn’t act on it.

“And you said I’ve been gone how long?”

“Several days, Mr. Ferguson.” She wiped her hands on her apron and attempted to peer around him. “Bring the young woman out, Mr. Ferguson. No one is going to hurt her.”

“Yes, well, the problem is, Mrs. White...em...she has had a mishap and is not quite...properly dressed.” I almost burst out laughing to hear Darius struggling with this explanation. His first attempt wasn’t going very well.

“Yes, Mr. Ferguson. I can see from her bare legs that she wants for some proper clothing. Perhaps I could provide an old bed sheet or something until...”

“That would be lovely, Mrs. White. Yes, if you would be so kind.”

“I’ll take her upstairs with me, shall I, and help her with it?”

I gave Darius’s arm a strong tug, willing him not to leave my sight.

“Ahh...Mrs. White. Perhaps if you would just direct me to where you keep the spare bed clothing, I could assist her.”

Her expression of astonishment accelerated into a look of shock.

“Oh, Mr. Ferguson, I am sure that it would be more proper if I—”

I could feel Darius’s tension in his grip on me.

“You are right, Mrs. White, it would be more proper if you were to assist her, but I will maintain as much propriety as I can—given the unusual circumstances. Do you keep the old bed linen in the hall closet upstairs?”

“Yes, Mr. Ferguson,” she acquiesced. “Can I make you some tea?”

“That would be wonderful, Mrs. White. And then you may leave. Miss Hamilton and I will manage by ourselves for the rest of the day.”

Mrs. White had been about to turn away when she stopped abruptly. She turned back to stare at Darius.

“Miss Hamilton?”

“Yes, Mrs. White, Miss Hamilton.” Darius’s subdued voice frightened me, holding that note of grief I’d heard before.

“Miss Molly? Is that you?”

“Not the same person, Mrs. White,” Darius said sharply. “Please leave us.” He softened his tone. “I will see you tomorrow. I may need your assistance then.”

I had the distinct impression that something was happening which I didn’t understand.

Mrs. White paused and nodded her head. “I am so pleased, Mr. Ferguson, so very happy for you. Whatever I can do, Mr. Ferguson, please let me know.”

“Thank you, madam. If I could ask for your discretion... Please do not speak of this to Mr. White or your children just yet. I need...I need time.”

“As quiet as a church mouse, Mr. Ferguson. You can depend on me.”

“Thank you. Good day, Mrs. White.”

“Good day, Mr. Ferguson. Good day, Miss Hamilton.”

“It was nice meeting you,” I chimed from behind Darius’s back.

Mrs. White, in the act of turning away, paused and looked back at us—confusion obvious on her face. She shook her head and turned away again to head for the kitchen.

Darius released me and put his fingers to his lips for a moment. The side door opened, and Mrs. White stepped outside with a bonnet on her head. She walked around to the front of the house and headed down the driveway. We watched her from the living room picture window. She turned back once at the end of the drive to stare at the house for an instant and then turned right and disappeared from view.

“Darius! What was that all about?” I looked down at my legs. “I mean I know I’m not dressed very well...for 1880”—I gave him a pointed look—”but there was something else going on there.”

Darius pulled me into his arms, his smile bright, his blue eyes twinkling like stars. He seemed more joyous than I had ever seen him. He picked me up and swung me around.

“Nothing for you to worry about, Molly, my love. Nothing at all.”

I couldn’t help but relish his moment of joy, though I suspected it was because he had returned to his time. I was thrilled to see him so happy.

He put me down but held onto my hand.

“Would you like to see the house, my love?”

“Yes, I would. Show me your house, Darius!” I laughed. Because it was his house now, long before I came along and bought it, before Cynthia and Laura were born, before Sara and I were born.

“Come,” he said, and he pulled me up the stairs—the wood highly varnished and free of scratches, the stairs without creaks—to the second floor. He threw open the main bedroom door, and I peered in to see the walls gleaming with white paint. Landscape paintings adorned several of the walls. The highly polished wood floor sported a luxurious oriental carpet of blue and gold. A massive four-poster bed topped by a very thick, comfortable looking blue quilt crowned the room. A cherry wood highboy and matching dresser completed the furniture. My window seat had a blue velvet cushion on it, and I crossed the room and looked out the window.

The pond sparkled under the direct midday sun. The small saplings that would soon grow to be massive trees fluttered in the breeze. I squinted toward the hill in the distance. I could see no tombstones from this vantage point.

“The cemetery is still very small, only a few stones or so. You will remember I donated it to the town, but that was just last year.”

I held onto his hand and nodded. My shoulder ached a bit, and I absently rubbed at it as I stared out the window. Darius placed a warm hand on my collarbone, and I turned to him with a smile.

“Your shoulder continues to hurt,” he stated quietly.

I looked down at his hand and covered it with my own.

“Yes, I guess it does. I don’t know why.” I shrugged. “Let’s see the rest of the house,” I urged.

We left the master room and peeked into the second bedroom. It was fully furnished with another four-poster bed, dresser, wall cupboard and an armchair of gold velvet. There was no seat beneath the window in this room.

I turned to him. “This is a lovely room. Do you live with someone or is this room for guests?”

He shrugged. “No, I live alone. I have a guest now, though, so perhaps we should negotiate who should have which room?” He grinned. “Do I take the master bedroom because it has always been mine? Or do you take the master bedroom because it is now yours—or at least it is in your time?”

I chuckled with him. “But we’re not staying that long, are we, Darius? I have to get back home. Sara will have called the police by now. She must be beside herself. She saw us disappear.”

Darius took a deep breath and stared at me. I tried to read his expression, but he wasn’t giving anything away. An awful thought occurred to me. Surely, he didn’t want to stay in his time, did he?

I dropped my gaze. But, of course, why wouldn’t he?

“Darius,” I tugged at his fingers, “I can’t stay here. In fact, I’m half tempted to run out to the road now. I need to find out what happened after we left.”