Erin's Rebel (26 page)

Fully dressed in a Phillies tee-shirt, shorts, and sneakers, she sat on the edge of her bed where her therapist had left her after their last session.

When Rick didn’t speak, she finally asked, “To what do I owe this visit?”

After pushing his blond hair off his forehead, he handed her the flowers. “Your mother told me about the accident. And that you were in a coma.”

Erin nodded. She motioned for him to take a seat and set the roses on her nightstand.

“I felt bad,” he continued. “Even though it was over between us, I felt I at least should see you one more time. Be sure you’re all right.”

“I’m just dandy.” She gestured to the wooden cane propped beside her bed. “I’m up and walking with a little assistance. They tell me I’ll soon be as good as new.”

Rick smiled. “That’s great.”

“And how are things going with you?”

“I’m still with the firm in Philadelphia. I’ve had a full case load, otherwise, I’d have been here sooner.”

“I understand,” she said. “After all, we’re not together anymore.”

“I’ve done some thinking about that.” He stared at his manicured fingers. “Maybe I’ve been too hard on you. I pushed you, and that’s why you called off the wedding.”

Erin sighed. Same old Rick. Only thinking of what’s best for him and his career. “I think I made the right decision. For both of us.”

“But we could take our time. Start over.”

“No, Rick. The truth is, I’m in love with someone else.”

His brows knitted. “We haven’t been apart that long. At least not before the accident.” He pointed a finger at her. “Don’t tell me you’ve fallen for your doctor.”

“No. He’s not a doctor.”

“Then one of your therapists?”

“No—it doesn’t matter who it is anyway. It’s over between us.”

“If that’s what you want...” He stood.

“Yes, that’s what I want.” She sagged as if all the air had gone out of her. She and Rick weren’t meant to be together.

He nodded and walked out of her life.

****

Late in January, Erin sat before the fireplace in her late grandmother’s house, sipping a cup of hot chocolate. She’d been staying here with her mother, until she finished with her outpatient therapy.

She’d also been going to a local firing range learning how to shoot an 1860s black-powder revolver. While her instructor, a middle-aged Civil War buff, found her interest admirable, her mother didn’t understand this compulsion.

“You need to forget all this nonsense if you want to get back to a normal life,” Mom had complained.

“It’s something I need to do,” Erin had insisted.

“But what sense is there in learning to fire an antique gun?”

Erin really couldn’t explain it herself. Shrugging, she’d said, “It will come in handy some day.”

Taking her mug with her, she rose and parted the chenille curtain covering the window. Lake-effect snow had coated the ground outside making for a picture postcard view during daylight hours. Now that darkness had fallen, she had wrapped an afghan around herself while she rocked in Grandma Rose’s favorite chair. Her mother had long since gone to bed.

Now with her therapy finished, she felt ready to go back to her job in Philadelphia, find a place of her own, and get on with life. Although she looked forward to seeing friends and colleagues, she didn’t know if she wanted to start over.

A log popped in the fireplace sending red sparks against the screen. The scent brought her back to the camp in Virginia where she’d spent all those months, while only weeks had passed in real-time.

How could it all have been a dream? A coma-induced dream as her mother had insisted. Before she returned to Philadelphia, there was one more thing she had to do.

****

Cemetery in Candor

Snow coated the ground blanketing the graves, giving the cemetery a magical glow. Erin looked for the newly erected stone her mother had had placed on Grandma Rose’s gravesite. Clutching the bouquet of assorted flowers she’d purchased at the grocery, she scanned the row of stones until she saw her Grandma’s name:
Rose Mary Magilly
.

After placing the flowers against the headstone, she circled behind to check the earlier gravesites dating back to the 1800s. Before she resumed her old life, she had to know.

She found the weathered granite stone bearing the name of Erin Coyne O’Connell—born February 22, 1837; died November 23, 1864.

Erin tightened her wool coat around her. Chilling numbness sliced through her.
This wasn’t right
. Erin O’Connell had lived into her eighties. She’d told Grandma Rose stories of her life when Grandma was a young girl.

The movie
Back to the Future
flashed into her mind. If the dates on the headstone had changed, that meant only one thing. She’d really been in the past. And she’d changed history. But had she made anything better, or had she made things worse.

Chapter Twenty-eight

Mason, Virginia

Erin approached the old church cemetery with trepidation. If Jake had killed her that day in November of 1864, what had happened to Will? She had no choice but to find out. She couldn’t go on with her life without learning the truth.

She found his grave in the family plot nestled between his wife, Anne, and Amanda. Her eyes blurred when she read his name, then she sharply refocused when she read his death date. Instead of 1864 when he’d originally died, the engraving read 1904.

Her knees nearly buckled beneath her. Jake hadn’t killed Will, but he’d killed
her
that day. She’d saved Will’s life, but they hadn’t lived the life they were meant to live together.

Disheartened, she drove back to the hotel where she was staying.
It had all been real.
She collapsed on the bed.
It hadn’t been a dream.
She’d really gone back in time, but she’d failed. Nothing for her to do now, but go back to Candor, pack her bags, and head for Philadelphia.

****

Candor, Pennsylvania

Erin closed her suitcase. She planned to spend one final night with her mother, then hit the road in the morning. Her brother in California would be flying out in a few days to help Mom put the house up for sale. He wanted her to come live with him. She would miss her mother but was glad she’d be well taken care of.

This was the last night she’d ever spend in this house. She undressed, slipped into her two-piece cotton pajama set, and settled down to sleep.

****

She stood in the cemetery. Snow coated the ground. Although she was barefoot and wearing only her light cotton pajamas, she didn’t feel cold. A woman with flowing, vibrant red hair seemed to glide toward her.

“Erin, child,” the woman said.

She stared and realization hit her. This was Grandma Rose as she’d looked in her youth.

“Grandma?”

“You must go back,” Grandma said.

“Back? Back where?”

“Back to William. You belong with him. It was destined to be.”

“But I can’t go back. It’s impossible.”

“You must find the brooch,” Grandma said. “Find it, then take it to your grave.”

“My grave? What do you mean?”

“Go to him, or you’ll never know happiness,” Grandma said.

****

Erin sat up with a jolt.
What a crazy dream
. She pushed her hand through her newly cropped hair, then rose, and paced in front of the window. The full moon reflected off the snow casting an eerie glow over the landscape beyond the house.

Brooch
, Grandma had said. She must mean the brooch containing Will’s hair. She’d been wearing it when she’d had the accident. Its connection to him had to have been the catalyst that sent her through time.

Maybe her mother would know where the brooch was. She’d ask her in the morning. If her mother didn’t know, what would she do? She’d planned to leave tomorrow.

Nothing she could to until morning. She climbed back into bed but doubted she’d get any more sleep.

In the morning after a restless night, Erin sat across from her mother at the oval pine table in Grandma’s country kitchen. Her mother had gotten up early to make Erin a breakfast of pancakes and bacon to fortify her for her long drive.

She sipped her orange juice, trying to figure out a way to ask her mother about the brooch. Finally, she said, “After my accident, did the hospital give you anything I’d had with me in the car?”

Her mother frowned. “Just your purse, cell phone, and of course, your suitcase.”

“What about the clothes I was wearing?”

“Oh, yes.” Her mother rose and started collecting the plates and silverware. “I took them home and had what was salvageable cleaned.”

“Where are they now?”

“In your grandmother’s closet. In her bedroom.”

“Was there a brooch attached to the jacket?”

“Brooch?”

“An antique brooch Grandma had given me. It dated back to the Civil War. It’s really important to me.”

“I do seem to recall something like that. I may have put it in your grandmother’s jewelry box.”

“Is the box still here?”

“Of course. I planned to take it with me to California after the house is sold. But if your grandmother gave you the brooch, you’re welcome to take it with you.”

“Actually, Mom. I’ve decided to stay on a few more days. There’s something I have to take care of before I leave.”

****

After dinner, Erin sat before the fireplace fingering the brooch. She ran her hand over the curved glass covering Will’s hair. Lifting it to her lips, she recalled his scent, the feel of his kiss, his hands and hard body pressed against hers. She closed her eyes and could swear he held her. Grandma had been right. She had no life here without him. If it meant she had to give up all her modern conveniences, then so be it. This might be her one shot at happiness. She had to take the chance. But was it even possible?

Her mother entered the room, setting two steaming mugs of hot chocolate on the coffee table. She sat across from Erin on the upholstered sofa.

“That’s a lovely piece of jewelry.” Her mother eyed the brooch.

“It belonged to Grandma’s great-aunt Erin O’Connell.”

“Oh, is that so?”

“Mom.” She bit her lip, not knowing how to start. “Grandma came to me in a dream last night.”

Her mother reached over and patted her hand. “Of course, dear. I know how close you were to her and how you miss her.”