Timeless Heart (6 page)

"It seems I made rather a spectacle of myself,"
he said, his voice far huskier than he had hoped. "In public. Not
the act of a gentleman. Forgive me, Sandra, for such crass
behavior."

She opened her eyes and looked at him with
confused indulgence.

Before she could reply, he stood, still holding
her hand. "Perhaps it would be best if we returned to your home at
once."

Sandra stood close, hip to hip. "And, Mr. Ross,
what do you have in mind?" She whispered seductively.

No. He could not. As tempting as she was, he
could not make love to her. It would make their parting even harder
to bear. And he had to leave, he could focus on nothing
else.

He stepped away. "I am quite tired, all this,
these last couple of days, has been much to absorb. I think I would
like to retire for the night." His voice was far cooler than he
intended. But he could not allow anything between them.
Anything...more.

Her look of playful confusion was soon replaced
with a look of hurt rejection. Damme. He felt a right cad, but it
was for the best.

Chapter Four

The next day, before calling Brian, Sandra gave
Jerrod some books on electricity as he wished, getting a promise
from him to not touch anything.
No playing with the electrical
sockets,
she teased gently. But really, she did worry. There
was so much he did not know, like how to protect himself. She had
to do it. Protect him. Surely she was capable of protecting
someone. She had failed so miserably with her student. Maybe that
is why she brought this strange man into her home, thinking she
could save him in some way, help him, protect him and show him the
way. That, and he stirred her desire, bringing out feelings she
thought she would never have for any man.

She had gotten no sleep the previous night,
knowing he was just down the hall. His heated kissing yesterday on
the bench still consumed her thoughts, haunted her dreams. Oh God,
never, never had she ever felt what she had from just the slightest
touch of his hand.

She closed her eyes. And what he did, kissing
and sucking on her breast, almost worshipping it. She would have
gone back home with him and dragged him to her bed happily. But
Jerrod had made it quite clear that was not going to happen. Was it
his era's gentleman sensibilities? Or, maybe he decided, he didn't
want her that way. She just assumed people from that era were
passionless, regardless of what she read in romance
novels.

Jerrod proved her wrong, very wrong. And it was
obvious he had not gotten much sleep either. His eyes were
red-rimmed, dark circles were heavy on his face. Things were a bit
strained this morning, over their tea and toast. He would hardly
look at her, answering her repeated attempts at conversation in
mono-syllables. Not unfriendly, just distant, like he was lost in
his thoughts. She couldn’t blame him, really. So much had happened,
so quickly, in so many ways.

She had to admit, his brush-off of her
yesterday still hurt. But there was no disguising his interest. She
had been all but impaled on his blatant erection. She had turned to
liquid under his magical lips. So...why?

Of course, they hadn't discussed the
possibility of his having to stay. Then what? She had taken him in
as one would a stray cat. Is that what he was, her pet? She would
keep him housebound, living for her pleasure and hers alone? Maybe
that is why she suggested they go to Halifax, even if it was a
short trip. Seeing him out among other people made him more real
somehow, and convinced her even more that he was indeed, from
another time, as fanciful as that was.

Sandra glanced at the clock. She would be
calling Brian soon. She looked down the hall at the closed door of
the bedroom where Jerrod was relaxing and reading. Her trepidation
continued. What if Jerrod left? But where would he go? He was her
responsibility, and she did not know if she could handle it. The
thought of him leaving tied a tight, relentless cord around her
heart. She did not want him to go, ever.

How could she feel this way after only a couple
of days? Perhaps it was her state of mind. She was reaching to save
herself from falling into the precipice. Examining her feelings was
difficult. They were close to the surface, raw, delicate, as if
they would shatter. That she desired him, there was no doubt. But
it was more. She wanted him to love her. Heal her.

Oh crap.

****

Jerrod spent part of the afternoon reading. He
and Sandra had gone to the local library that morning. Amazing,
there were so many books readily available. Beyond the sheer
numbers, the books themselves were marvels. They contained what
Sandra called photographs, which, unlike the crude stampings and
illustrations of 1821, gave color, light and exact countenance of
the subjects shown. It was something undreamed to him. There were
libraries in 1821, but they were very rare, and not for the general
public, as most did not know how to read at any rate. Only those in
academia had access to lending books.

History did not interest him, what war and
when, much too depressing. He was fighting a case of the
blue-devils as it was, he did not need to exacerbate that by
reading about how the world was as wretched a place as he
remembered, or perhaps, worse.

But the scientific advances percolated his
interest intensely. Something else he wanted to delve into was
music. If he had time that was. Sandra had played him all types of
music. A certain crooner, she called him Frank Sinatra, was
wonderful. She also put on that screeching nonsense, "Rock Music".
Apparently, Sandra liked it. He however, did not. But the classical
music! It was like sitting in a chamber, listening to the orchestra
in the very room with you. He couldn't keep track of all the
devices. She had music on an 'iPod' she called it. How could
hundreds of songs be on such a thing? She promised to show him how
it worked, when they had time.

If he had time
. Time. Bloody
hell.

Jerrod closed the book, setting it on the bed
next to him. He put his arms behind his head and looked around the
room. His heart was aching. He wondered what his family was doing,
were they frantic over his disappearance? His mother was in
delicate health. And Vennor, he was only twenty four, could he step
up and take over the running of Pendern Hall? And Grace, his twenty
six year old sister, she was also in a delicate condition. Not her
health as such, but she was nursing a broken heart, her fiancé had
died of his wounds from the Battle of Waterloo. She had nursed him
for six long years, only to have him die in her arms. She had been
devastated. She still was. Grace needed him. They all needed him.
And due to circumstances he could not fathom nor explain, he had
been thrust into the future, ripped from his family, his life. Why?
This was futile, Sandra talking with her science friend, what was
the point? He knew, in the depths of his soul, he was never going
to see his family, ever again. In a startling moment of crystalline
horror he realized his entire family had been dead for at least a
century and a half.

Jerrod turned over on his side and cried until
sleep finally overtook him.

****

Sandra opened the bedroom door to glance in on
Jerrod, relieved that he was asleep. She really didn't want him to
overhear the conversation with Brian, get his hopes up for nothing.
This seemed so futile, but what could it hurt to inquire? Closing
the door gently she walked down the hall into the living
room.

Reaching for her cordless phone and punching in
the number to Brian’s office, she smiled as she thought of her
life-long friend. Brian never changed, he had been the rumpled
professorial type even as a teenager. He always wore a tweed jacket
with well worn elbow patches that hung loosely from his Ichabod
Crane frame. She adored him, the brother she never had. He
answered, and after exchanging pleasantries, he asked her the
reason for her call.

She took a deep breath. "What is your opinion
on time travel?"

He snorted derisively. "You want me to explain
Quantum Physics? You always sucked at science, Sandy."

"I know, Bri. Is it possible?"

"On paper, sure it’s feasible, but in reality?
Impossible," he replied emphatically.

"What about...about being struck by
lightning..." she ventured tentatively.

"Did you just watch those 'Back To The Future'
movies again?" he snickered.

Sandra sighed. "Just answer the
question!"

"You mean, the 1.21gigawatts...the space time
continuum, all that?” he snorted again. “Sure, I suppose most
movies have some basis in fact. Even 'Back to the
Future'."

Sandra felt foolish, but she plunged
forward.

"If someone arrived in a vehicle of some sort
that was struck by lightning would another strike send that person
back?"

Brian could not hold back his laughter now.
"Don't tell me you found a DeLorean!”

"Stop laughing, Bri, or I swear when I see you
next, I will kick you in the nuts." She closed her eyes and sighed.
"Well? Is it possible?"

Brian stopped laughing. "Yes, if they arrived
that way, but who is to say the person would get back to their own
time? They could wind up anywhere, in any era. Are you writing a
book, a screenplay?"

Sandra’s eyes snapped back open."Yes, a book,
one of those time-travel romance things. Now, what about if there
were other passengers, in that...vehicle. What would have happened
to them if, let's say, the person in question, a man...arrived
alone? Where is everyone else?"

"That's a good question. They could be
anywhere, possibly in a state of suspended animation, lost in time,
as it were. There are theories of space-time, or time curves. I
like to call them ribbons of space-time. Perhaps the others could
be trapped in a closed time loop with their only means of escape
being this vehicle, or time machine!" Brian declared triumphantly,
thrilled at his own expertise in contriving a time travel plot out
of thin air.

"And..." he continued, his enthusiasm building,
"this is where the lightening comes in! It’s a catalyst, the means
necessary to return the person through the time curve he came
through, though not necessarily to the same time and place he came
from. The theory of time travel is not exact. Perhaps then, it
could conceivably snatch one of the others out of their time
ribbon, and deposit them just about anywhere!"

Sandra’s eyes widened in wonder. How close was
he to the truth here? They may never know.

“This is fiction we are talking about here,
right? A romance?"

Brian was far too clever, time to end the call.
"Thanks, Brian, you’re a pal."

"What is this, Sandy? You’re serious about
this, aren’t you?”

Sandra was touched by the disquiet in his
voice. "Don't concern yourself. I’m taking up writing to keep my
mind off...things. That's all."

Brian sounded dubious, but accepted her
explanation. They made plans for dinner the following week, and
said their goodbyes.

****

After her phone call with Brian, Sandra slipped
out and picked up a bucket of chicken. Looking in on Jerrod, she
saw he was still asleep, books all around him. He was laying flat
on his back, one arm carelessly thrown over his eyes. He must be
exhausted. He probably had not slept much since he got here. All
this must be overwhelming to him. And a small part of her hoped
that another reason for his disturbed sleep might be
her.

She could dream.

She smiled, and quietly closed the door. She
put the chicken in the oven on low, then ran to her computer. She’d
had a brainstorm on the way home. Why not visit one of those
genealogy sites and look up his family?

Her fingers clicking furiously, she finally
found something on the Ross family.

Jerrod William Ross, son of William Devlin
Ross...born 1790. Died...May 1821
. Dear God.

She clicked on the younger brother Vennor, he
married and had children, no doubt inherited Penhen Hall or
whatever it was called. The sister married as well in
1824.

She clicked on successive generations. There
were still Ross’s in Cornwall, after all this time, but not from
Jerrod. Did that mean that he never returned to 1821? Would it be
as Brian said, he could return to any era...or was he stuck here?
Should she tell Jerrod this?

But what caught her attention was a link to a
blog about unsolved mysterious disappearances of the 1800’s. The
link took her to an article called “
Cornwall Carriage Disappears
1821
”.

She scanned the blog, which quoted papers of
the day saying said a mail coach carrying four passengers and the
driver seemingly disappeared without a trace May 21, 1821. Mr.
Jerrod Ross, prominent landowner of Pendern Hall and the mine,
Wheal Trent, age 31, had been one of the passengers. His family had
hired Bow Street runners from London to investigate, but no trace
was ever found of Mr. Ross, his belongings, or the other
passengers. Even the horses and the carriage itself had
disappeared. After five years, Mr. Ross and the others were
declared legally dead.