Lightning Only Strikes Twice (9 page)

She slipped on the robe and headed down the narrow staircase.

The kitchen was a cozy setting with a wood-burning stove in a corner. A window over the sink looked out onto the backyard. No modern appliances like a microwave or dishwasher in sight.

The authenticity of the entire house amazed her. “This is incredible.”

Elizabeth beamed as she lit a lantern secured to the wall. “Thank you. I’ve tried to make a good home for me and Paul.” She lifted a parcel wrapped in brown paper off a table in the center of the room and handed it to Annie. “This is for you.”

Reluctantly, Annie took the package. It was heavier than it looked. “What’s in it?”

“Luke wouldn’t say, and I’m dying to see.”

“Luke brought this?”

“Yes, of course.” Elizabeth laughed again. “He said you lost your trunk with all your clothes. I told him you could borrow a couple of my dresses, but he insisted you have something of your own.”

Annie hesitated to untie the strings on the package. “I’m not sure if I should accept this.” Receiving a gift from the man who wanted her to believe they’d traveled through time seemed awkward. Besides, if everyone was pretending this was the nineteenth century, wasn’t there a code or rule about a woman accepting gifts from a man?

“Luke said you’d probably feel that way,” Elizabeth replied. “He thought it was the least he could do, until you got back on your feet.”

Annie wondered why Luke had gone to so much trouble. She fingered the nightdress peeking beneath the robe. “Is this yours?”

“Yes, but I couldn’t fit into it now,” Elizabeth answered.

“Where are my other clothes?”

“I washed them last night, before Paul could see.” Elizabeth cheeks flushed a bright pink. “I’ve heard of those fancy French underclothes, but I’ve never seen them before. I put them in the dresser in your bedroom. I hope they got dry enough.”

For a moment, Annie was speechless. “You washed my clothes?”

Elizabeth looked even more embarrassed. “They were terribly dirty. I hope you don’t mind.”

“No, I don’t mind,” Annie said. “I just didn’t expect…”

Elizabeth cocked her head.

Annie didn’t know what to say. This woman had gone to so much trouble for her—without any modern conveniences. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Elizabeth smiled her relief. “But you can’t wear those trousers to services, so let’s see what Luke bought you.” Her eyes had the look of child at Christmas.

Annie didn’t have the heart to disappoint her by refusing the gift. She laid the package on the table, untied the strings, and pulled back the paper.

Inside was a plain blue cotton dress with a full skirt. The standup collar buttoned at the throat and the sleeves were long. Under the dress, she found plain white cotton drawers, a chemise, and black stockings. The last item was a pair of black ankle boots that laced up the front.

Annie held up the boots. “I don’t believe this.”

Elizabeth reached over and lifted the dress. “It’s so pretty.” She giggled as she held it under Annie’s chin. “That cornflower color will suit you too. Luke was very generous and such a good eye for clothes. Now you’ll have to go to church with us. You’ll have a chance to thank him and show off your new dress.”

Something in Elizabeth’s tone made Annie wonder if she was playing matchmaker. The entire morning took on a dreamlike quality. None of this felt real.

Elizabeth gathered the paper and clothes in a bundle and shoved them into Annie’s arms “Go on. You can wash up and get dressed. I’ll start breakfast. When you come down, I’ll have an extra apron ready so you won’t soil your new dress.”

Annie hesitated.

“Go on, now,” Elizabeth said.

With those marching orders, Annie headed up the stairs. Once in her room, she shut the door and leaned against it, eyes closed and heart pounding.

“This is a nightmare,” she whispered. “Any minute I’m going to wake up.” She inhaled and waited for the vertigo to whisk her back to her own time.

When she opened her eyes, the clothes were still in her arms. The bed, chair, and dresser remained in their places in a room that was not hers. Outside, a rooster crowed.

What was happening? These people had gone to great lengths to create an elaborate setup. Posing as her ancestors—trying to convince her they lived in 1891. Why? What did they stand to gain?

Was Luke paying them? Had he offered these people an opportunity to live in the new summer homes if they kept up the play-acting? If so, what was her part? Was he making some sort of point? Trying to prove that the future was better than the past? That was ridiculous. She meant nothing to Luke Maxwell. He had no reason to go to all this trouble.

If only she could remember. How long had she had amnesia?

She dropped the clothes on the bed and crossed to the dresser. Inside the top drawer sat her slacks, blouse, and sweater, all neatly folded. She closed the drawer and opened another to find her underwear.

She grabbed her clothes out of the drawers and tossed them on the bed next to the new dress. Her permanent press blouse, although hardly a fashion statement, looked crisp, barely wrinkled lying next to the blue dress. The contrast between the clothing was startling. Reconciling the differences made her head hurt.

She may have wanted to play along earlier. Not now.

She stripped out of the nightgown and quickly donned her own underwear. The bra lining was damp, but she didn’t care. Pulling on her slacks and blouse, she looked down at her bare feet. She still had no shoes.

For heaven’s sake, what had happened to them?

Not wanting to waste any more time, she dug through the paper and found the stockings and boots.

It was awkward pulling up the long stockings under her pants, but she managed. Lacing the boots was awkward too. She wiggled her toes. The soles were stiff. If she had to wear them for long, they might give her blisters.

She just wouldn’t wear them that long.

Tiptoeing to the bedroom door, she opened it and poked out her head. No one was in the hall or at the top of the stairs.

The scent of cooking bacon wafted up. She was hungry, but it didn’t matter. She’d find something to eat when she got home.

As quietly as she could, she hurried down the stairs. She reached the hallway and heard Elizabeth singing a lullaby.

She hesitated.

The tune was one Annie vaguely remembered from her childhood. The melody wound around her heart—squeezed out an emotion she barely recognized. How long had it been since she belonged anywhere? To anyone but Grandpa?

A lump rose in her throat. Tears burned her eyes. She tuned out the gentle singing and hurried through the small living room where she found the front door. Easing it open, she slipped out and closed the door behind her.

The sun hadn’t crested the mountaintops, but dawn had definitely claimed the day. Annie hurried along the dirt street until she came to an intersection for the main road through town. On her right was the monstrous shadow of the mill. Trying to recall how the town laid out, she took the road on her left.

Beyond the row of houses, she expected to find a lot or meadow where everyone had parked their cars. Obviously, the event organizers wouldn’t allow motorized vehicles in the actual town. It made sense to stay true to the period. Nevertheless, visitors would expect some modern conveniences like plumbing and fresh water. No one these days would dare drink unfiltered water, even for the sake of an authentic historical event.

As she walked toward the edge of town, the houses gave way to shacks—a Chinese shantytown that sheltered cheap labor for the mine. Petite Chinese women stared at her as they tended to the contents in big pots hung over smoldering cook fires.

Annie tried not to stare back, but everything looked so very real. The smell. The sound of foreign chatter that ceased when Annie drew near. Empty, haggard faces.

If she remembered history correctly, these people had been exploited. Why would they be willing to perform a reenactment? It seemed wrong. Horribly, horribly wrong.

Shifting her eyes straight ahead, she focused on her own predicament.
Find a way home.
That was all that mattered.

Once the last of the shacks were behind her, the road curved slightly. Around the bend was more of the same dirt road. Sagebrush lined the road and spread along the flat areas before it eventually gave way to the edge of the forest.

There were no cars.

No tourist buses.

No parking lot.

It was light enough to see tracks in the dirt. The tracks weren’t from car tires. There wasn’t a billboard advertising the historical reenactment of White Rock.

Nothing disproved Luke Maxwell’s claim.

She really
was
in 1891.

The vertigo she’d been ignoring as she walked away from town had grown stronger with each step. She stood in the middle of the road and looked back the way she’d come.

To her right, the sky grew lighter. To her left, sunlight had finally reached the mountaintops on the other side of the valley.

A scraggly dog trotted in the shadows where the sagebrush met the forest. It turned and she saw a long snout uncharacteristic of any dog. A coyote. It carried a dead squirrel in its teeth.

Fear shivered down her skin. She stepped backward, preparing to run if it attacked. But the animal darted into trees and disappeared.

A rush of vertigo forced her to her knees. She cradled her arms around her stomach. Wave after wave of doubt rose inside her.

Was it true? Had she really gone back in time? Even if she hadn’t, she couldn’t walk all the way to Boise. It would take hours to reach to the main highway.

The sound of hooves clicking against rock caught her attention. A horse and rider headed toward her. Dust rose in the wake of the horse’s gait, but the rider’s face remained in shadow.

Annie staggered to her feet and crossed to the side of the road to let horse pass.

Instead, the rider brought the horse to a halt beside her.

Luke tipped his hat backward with his index finger and looked down at her. “I thought you’d have better manners than to scare your great-great grandmother out of her mind.”

Chapter Six

Luke dismounted from his horse.

Annie looked terrified standing alone in the middle of the dirt road that led out of White Rock. Her ivory complexion paled as though she’d seen a ghost.

Fear clutched him and he took a cautious step toward her.

She backed away.

He understood her hesitation. Given the circumstances, the most accepting individuals would find their tolerance stretched to the limit.

Time travel was the stuff of science fiction. Adventure movies where the good guy saved the day by rescuing the heroine and used his knowledge of the future to make a better life for everyone. It made for good storytelling, not real life.

Luke wasn’t that guy. He wanted his old life back. The good, the bad, the familiar, and all the tribulations that came with it. He wondered sometimes if his father missed him. Then reality knifed through him with cruel logic. His father wasn’t even born yet. How could he miss Luke?

Annie hadn’t said a word since he’d spotted her. She seemed frozen to the ground. Since she wore her blouse and trousers, she probably hadn’t come to terms with their situation. He hoped she would figure it out quickly. The sooner she accepted the truth, the better it would be for her.

For both of them.

Gravel crunched beneath his boots as he drew close. This time, she didn’t shy away as he put a hand on her shoulder.

The color in her cheeks returned and the tightness in his chest eased.

“You’re going to be okay,” he said.

Her slender throat convulsed slightly as she swallowed. She blinked several times and settled her gaze on him. “How do you know?”

He shrugged. “I just know.” He tugged the reins and his horse moved closer. “Elizabeth and Paul are worried about you. Come on, I’ll take you back.”

“No.” She swiped at his hand and turned away. “I’m going home.” Head high, she took a couple of steps as though she intended to walk all the way to Boise. Then stopped. Her shoulders slumped. Without turning around, she said, “I can’t go home, can I?”

It wasn’t really a question. “No,” he answered. Not right now, he thought. A germ of an idea was forming about how they’d ended up here. He given more thought as to how they might to return to their own time. He wasn’t quite ready to share any theory until he’d studied it in more detail.

He came abreast of her. “Annie…”

When she looked at him, her face showed all the helplessness and panic he remembered feeling when he first realized he was no longer in his own time.

He wished he had words to ease her anxiety. Some magic to take away the confusion. This situation was something she’d have to reconcile in her own way. Unlike when he first arrived, she wasn’t alone. He wanted to make sure she understood that.

She glanced warily at the horse and lifted her chin. “I can walk back.”

“I know.” He smiled at her stubbornness. “This is faster. Elizabeth is waiting for you.”

Gingerly, she approached the horse and he helped her into the saddle before settling behind her.

He slipped his arms around her and grabbed the reins.

Her back brushed his chest sending molten ore racing through every limb. The warmth came, not only from her body heat, but from a complete lack of nausea.

This wasn’t the first time he’d noticed the vertigo disappear when she was near. Something significant happened each time they touched.

The discovery made his heart pound with excitement. As he guided the horse into town, he wondered what it meant. The more he was around Annie, the more questions he had.

He wanted to talk with her, bounce some ideas off her, but it was still too soon. She needed time to adjust—maybe not as much as he’d needed, but the last thing he wanted was to push too fast.

As they rode through town toward the Crawford house, he waited for her questions. Only she didn’t speak.