Whispers from the Past (2 page)

After our date, I drove Susanna home—

No
. I drove Susanna to Marissa’s apartment. It was past nine. My sister was still out with whatever guy she was seeing now. She’d only moved back to Raleigh three months ago, and already Marissa was over Fletcher-the-parasite.

Susanna and I walked up the concrete steps to the second floor of the apartment building and stopped outside the door. I watched as she unlocked it, and then checked inside with my vigilant boyfriend routine.

“Looks good,” I said, and turned to her.

“Do you wish to stay a while?”

“No, babe, I need to get home. I have an hour’s worth of homework left.” I cupped her face in my hands and brushed her lips with mine. Her arms locked about my waist as the kiss deepened.

I pulled back with a groan. “I’ve gotta go.”

She nodded. “It has been a wondrous day.”

“I love you,” we said in unison, and then laughed.

She walked me to the door and threw the deadbolt after the door closed behind me.

Once I got home, I raced up the back stairs and along the hall to my room. After opening my laptop, I pulled up the psychology textbook to the assigned chapter and then skimmed it.

That didn’t take long, so I checked my email.

Nothing there. I was half-expecting to see something from the admissions office at Brevard College. They’d promised a quick response.

I’d applied to four other universities, but Susanna only knew about three. I didn’t want her to find out about Duke.

She would get all upset about it, since I’d never mentioned wanting to go there. She would think (correctly) that my only real reason for applying to Duke was her.

Tonight was confirmation that a local university was a good idea. If I hated to be fifteen minutes away from her overnight, how much would I hate being hours away from her next fall?

My computer pinged me. I took a quick look and found Gabrielle Stone waiting to IM with me.

ME:
hey

GABRIELLE:
hey. how was the date?

ME:
amazing

GABRIELLE:
did jesse and benita make it for dessert?

ME:
yeah. mostly on time too. do you want to switch to skype?

GABRIELLE:
no

That was a surprise. Skype was Gabrielle’s favorite way to communicate online.

ME: why?

GABRIELLE:
i’ve been crying. i’m a mess

I didn’t want to ask, but that wasn’t cool. She was my friend.

ME: why?

GABRIELLE:
korry and I broke up tonight

ME:
over the phone?

GABRIELLE:
in person

ME:
are you in new york?

GABRIELLE:
i was until 10 minutes ago. i flew up here to surprise him. bad idea

Korry Sim might be the world’s best-known actor of my generation—next to Gabrielle, of course—but when it came to how he treated his girlfriend, he was a complete jerk.

Wait. She was his ex-girlfriend now. I wondered how long that would last. He seemed to be irresistible to Gabrielle.

ME: what happened?

GABRIELLE:
he wasn’t alone. surprise!

ME:
where are you now?

GABRIELLE:
flying home. i’ll be at school tomorrow

Her lifestyle was so strange. She wanted to see her boyfriend, so she flew from Raleigh to New York for the evening. Then things didn’t go as planned, so she flew back—and contacted me over the internet en route. Must be nice.

Actually, in this case, it wasn’t nice at all.

ME: hey. i’m sorry. will you be ok?

GABRIELLE:
yeah

ME:
see you in class then

GABRIELLE:
k

I shut down the laptop, turned off my light, and rolled onto my side on the bed. I had to stop complaining about where Susanna lived. At least I didn’t have to worry about who she was with. Susanna loved me almost as much as I loved her. I didn’t doubt
us
for a second.

C
HAPTER
T
HREE

P
ROVOCATIVE
Q
UESTIONS

Two weeks had passed since Valentine’s Day, and I had not yet found a job.

When Marissa invited me to move in with her, we had negotiated an arrangement that pleased us both. I would cook and clean for half of my rent. The rest would be paid from the wages of whatever job I could secure. Until I had a regular paycheck, she was willing to wait for my share.

It was most frustrating, the insistence employers placed on diplomas. After I’d received my identification documents, I’d thought that my problems were solved. Yet my job search had revealed this other piece of paper that employers wanted. Without it, no one cared that I would be a loyal and hard worker.

Mark’s grandfather had offered to make me a fake diploma. I did not wish to accept, but my resolve was weakening.

No, I must not give in. The interview I’d had this afternoon had gone well. The people had seemed quite kind, and the restaurant was close enough that I could ride my bike rather than take the bus. Perhaps I wouldn’t have much longer to wait.

My phone buzzed. I glanced at the caller ID. “Hello, Sherri.”

“Hi, Susanna.” There was a smile in her voice. “I have another wedding job for you.”

This was good news. Brides were charmed enough by my “colonial style” handwriting that they were willing to pay me to address their wedding invitations. I had several weddings booked already this year. “Thank you. I would be happy to accept.”

“That’s what I told them. I have the invitations with me. Can you come over now?”

“Yes, ma’am. I’ll be there shortly.” I hung up the phone and hurried to the door. After picking up my jacket and my helmet, I locked the apartment, retrieved my bike from our outside storage closet, and carried it down to the parking lot.

Another check of my watch made me fret. If I took my normal route through quiet neighborhoods, it would take forty-five minutes or more to get there. Was that too long? Yet I felt anxious at the thought of taking the shorter route through Umstead State Park. It passed too near Whisper Falls.

I gave my head a shake. How foolish. I would be fine on the trail through Umstead, and it would save me many minutes. With a push, I pedaled across the city street and into the cool silence of the park.

The weather was fine for the first day of March. Mild. No rain. The trail was pleasant as it took me the four miles through the park. There were none of the honking cars or chatting joggers of the other route.

I continued on the main trail until I reached Rocky Creek and then turned onto the greenway that would lead me into Mark’s neighborhood.

He and I had often walked along this path. It had been especially beautiful in the autumn with the trees ablaze with color. It was lovely still, although perhaps more stark with the trees bare of leaves. Indeed, the forest seemed unnaturally thin on the hill opposite me.

As I neared the rutted dirt track that led down to the base of Whisper Falls, I braked to a stop, my attention drawn to the glint of the creek and the murmur of the falls.

Why was I hesitating? I should ride on. Sherri was expecting me.

Apprehension quivered in my gut. I had avoided this place for months. What odd force had brought me here today?

With jerky movements, I dismounted the bike, locked it to a tree, and started down the track. I rounded the bend to find the waterfall sparkling in the afternoon light. I walked until I reached a boulder at the creek’s edge. My gaze rose from the bubbling creek to the rippling glass of the waterfall. My initial impression was wrong. The water held more than a sparkle. It shimmered.

Whisper Falls had wanted me to approach. Yet the summons left me wary. Why now?

“What do you want from me?” I asked. Leaning in cautiously, I held my hand in the flow and felt the familiar slide of warmth without wetness, a signal that I could cross the centuries if I chose.

“No!” I snatched my hand away and turned my back on the falls and whatever it was that had drawn me down here. I had to flee.

I leapt onto the dirt track, dread pounding like a hammer at my skull, but my leaden feet would take me no further. Spinning around, I peered through the water and into the cave on the other side.

There was a glimmer of white in a high crevice. Something awaited me in my hidden haven from two hundred years ago.

I knew that it must also be March first on the other side of the falls. But which year? Nearly five months had passed since Mark and I had visited in 1801. Was it 1802 there or perhaps 1803? Had Whisper Falls chosen to show me a year even later than that?

If I stepped through the falls to investigate, I would break my promise to Mark and to myself that I would never return to the past. Yet it was hard to leave when curiosity held me in its grasp. I was meant to be here. Whisper Falls wanted me to see this. Dare I risk a quick visit?

What could it be? A message? A
trick
?

No, it wasn’t a trick. Whisper Falls would keep me safe.

With a leap, I passed backwards through time—although how many years I was crossing, I couldn’t know for sure. The journey caressed my body with a tingling foam.

Dodging into the cave, I pried the bit of white from the crevice and watched as three letters tumbled to the cave floor. I picked them up with trembling hands. Across each, in the familiar handwriting of my dearest friend, was written
Susanna
.

Dorcas had written me, as she had promised. A mixture of pleasure and melancholy burned within me. I couldn’t wait to read them, but how would she feel when I did not respond?

I jammed all three letters into the pocket of my jacket and turned toward the falls.

A horse snorted directly above me on the bluff.

Clapping a hand over my mouth to stifle a gasp, I flattened my body against the damp wall of the cave as my heart pounded wildly.

The rider’s boots thudded to the ground and then crunched to the cliff’s edge.

“God in heaven, why have you plagued me so?”

It was a voice I knew well—a voice that had haunted my dreams from the age of ten. My former master stood mere feet away. It would take Mr. Pratt but a few seconds to reach me if he were alerted to my presence.

How could I have made such a horrible mistake?

“Why must I have the patience of Job?” His question echoed loudly in the heavy hush of the forest.

I gauged my distance from the cave to the falls. If my feet were sure, if I made it to the water without stumbling, I could leap to safety before he could scramble down the cliff. But the rocks were wet and slick with moss. It was better to wait than risk slipping.

Minutes passed, and he did not move.

At last, the saddle creaked. Mr. Pratt growled a harsh command, and the horse galloped away in the direction of the Pratt farm.

Without a backward glance, I leapt through the waterfall,

grabbed my bike, and finished the trip to Mark’s house,

blanking from my mind how narrowly I had missed a terrible outcome.

Sherri’s car sat in its garage stall. I parked my bike inside the garage and knocked on the door.

“Come in,” she called.

When I walked in, I found her sitting at the kitchen table, still in scrubs, flipping through the mail.

“Hi, Susanna. That took longer than I expected.” She looked up with a smile. “Would you like a cup of tea while I explain what this bride wants?”

“Yes, please.”

I perched on the edge of my chair, my trembling hands clutched in my lap. It made me uncomfortable to be served, yet I knew that, with Sherri, it was best to accept with silent gratitude what she offered.

“Mark should be here soon. He can drive you home, if you want.” She set the tea kettle on the stove and then returned to her chair. “He’s studying this afternoon with Gabrielle.”

I kept my smile neutral. I was not jealous of his famous friend, but I hadn’t lived in this century long enough to grow accustomed to the idea of young men and women spending time alone unchaperoned.

Sherri drew the box of invitations closer as she pushed aside the stack of mail she had been looking at earlier. “Mark got a letter today from Brevard College.”

That was promising news. “An acceptance?”

“I suspect so.” She watched me carefully. “That’ll make two.”

“Two acceptances?”

She nodded. “Brevard and Appalachian State. We should hear from the other three by April first.”

My mind raced to think through her statements. “Three more?”

“He applied to Duke.”

This news surprised me greatly. “The university near here? In Durham?”

“The very one.”

“Why would he apply there? He plans to attend college in the mountains.” Duke’s campus was mostly flat. Not at all challenging for mountain biking.

“I guess he’s changed his mind.”

Here were decisions of tremendous importance. Why hadn’t he shared them? Disappointment flooded through me. “I cannot understand his silence.”

Sherri’s face softened with pity. “I can.”

Her look urged me to ponder the reason. He should be happy that Appalachian State had already admitted him. Yet he hadn’t mentioned this and had, instead, applied to a college only twenty miles away. I had never heard him speak of an interest in attending school nearby. Unless…

I gripped the edge of the table, staggered by my conclusion. “Do you think he has done this for my sake?”

“Yes. I also think it was wrong for him not to tell you.” At the whistle of the kettle, she slid from her chair. “Do you want honey in your tea?”

“Yes, ma’am,” I said, and looked away to stare blindly at the box of invitations, glad of an excuse to conceal my reaction. The knowledge that Mark had kept such secrets left me too unsettled to speak.