Whispers from the Past (40 page)

Mom was hosting Thanksgiving dinner this year and driving everyone crazy in the process. There was a plan—complete with recipes and a schedule down to the minute, all posted on the fridge. Fortunately, she decided it was more important to please the other six at the table than my dad, because I’d seen sticks of butter and pints of cream in the fridge.

It was my responsibility to set the big dining room table. I did a decent job. Of course, how could I not? Mom had a plan for that, too.

Marissa brought her boyfriend for dinner and football, and then they were heading to his family’s for dessert.

We all liked Michael a lot. He wasn’t Marissa’s usual type of guy, which was a good thing. They’d met over the summer at the apartment complex where they both lived, but it turned out that my mom had known him first. Michael was a paramedic, and he had worked with Mom when she was a trauma nurse at the hospital. She approved of him, a fact which had not killed Marissa’s interest.

It was fun to watch the two of them together. Even after four months, she still drooled every time she glanced his way. He didn’t put up with any of her shit. I hoped she was smart enough to hang on to Michael.

We’d just finished dishing up our first round of food when my grandmother gave me a pointed stare across the table. “Mark, is Madison going anywhere special for Thanksgiving?”

The clicking of spoons and glasses quieted.

I nodded. “I think she’s going with her family to their mountain cabin.”

“You’re not sure?”

I shook my head as I shoveled in a heaping forkful of mashed potatoes, signaling that I didn’t want to talk.

Apparently, Michael decided to ignore the cue. “You haven’t talked to her since you got home?”

I put down my fork and slumped into my chair. The questions were really about to begin. Might as well be prepared. “We broke up.”

Everyone around the table grew still, except Michael. “Who dumped whom?”

Marissa smacked his bicep with the back of her hand. He slid her a sharp-eyed glance that made her squirm in her seat.

I didn’t mind the question. Not really. Curiosity was natural under the circumstances. “Madison broke up with me.”

“Why?”

When Marissa started to smack Michael a second time, he caught her wrist, pressed a kiss into her palm, and said, “Try that again. Please.”

Attention shifted from me to them. Marissa swallowed, her gaze locked on his. If we hadn’t been watching, she would’ve been all over him. This guy was perfect for my sister.

He looked back at me, waiting for my answer. They all did.

I shrugged. “Madison says I’m not all there.”

“Is she right?”

“Yes.”

“Because of Susanna?”

Granddad coughed into his napkin. Dad sighed. Mom and Gran reached for their water glasses. Marissa put her mouth against Michael’s ear and whispered furiously.

Nobody in my family ever mentioned her name anymore. As if she’d never walked among us. As if I might shatter at the memory. As if I didn’t thank God every day for the miracle that she had been.

It was pathetic, really, because here I was, lapping up the sound of her name like a man dying of thirst. “Yeah. Because of Susanna.”

“Sorry to hear that, dude.”

I nodded at Michael with gratitude. “Thanks.” I looked around the table and smiled. It was okay. We could do this. Maybe now she could be mentioned without everybody holding their breath. Maybe now we could move on.

Maybe.

C
HAPTER
F
ORTY
-N
INE

T
HE
P
RIVACY OF
M
Y
H
EART

My newest nephew had arrived on the fourth Thursday in November, in the year of our Lord 1805. Had we been living in Mark’s world, that would have been a Thanksgiving Day. As it was, it had been a day like any other—except for the appearance of young Joseph.

We fell into a quick routine after his birth. I spent the mornings rocking him while his mother rested.

He was a week old today and being quite good. It was nearly time for his midmorning feeding. I paced with him in my arms, watching as he slept. I glanced at my sister-in-law across the room. She lay in bed, her face pale with fatigue.

This labor had not been easy on Frances. I had been glad when the midwife from Ward’s Crossroads had arrived in time to assist me with Joseph’s birth.

His delivery might have been difficult, but he had been most charming in the week since.

I’d been staying at Caleb’s house since Dorcas’s wedding seven weeks ago. It had been busy as we prepared for their fifth child. I found that I was good at caring for the infirm. That affinity had become clear to me in the days following the tornado. I’d accompanied Dr. Eton on his rounds of the sick. I had tended their injuries with a confident smile and a gentle touch, and his patients had responded to my efforts. When Caleb asked me to help with Frances’s confinement, I had been only too glad to come.

It had also been a joy to live among my nieces and nephews. They were all delightful, but I had to admit, in the privacy of my heart, that Josiah was my favorite. He was clever and quick. Bold and fearless. These were traits I admired.

Did his mother notice the sorrow in my eyes when I gazed upon him? Every member of my brother’s family would one day succumb to death, but I knew it awaited Josiah in seven short years. He would be twenty, a fine young man. He was the sort who would make America proud even as a battle claimed him. Perhaps it would even be the traits I admired so much that would hasten his end.

I would say nothing nor intervene.

It was most peculiar to know the future. I could not vote in this century, yet I knew who would win the elections. Other wars lay ahead of us. There would be imperfect attempts to free people with dark skin. Political bickering. Inventions to marvel over. Discoveries in medicine.

If I stayed in this world, would I ever feel surprised again?

“Susanna?” My sister-in-law spoke from the bed.

I carried the baby to her. She tucked him into her arms and settled back down, smiling at the perfection of his tiny face. “He is peaceful. I do not wish to wake him for a feeding.”

“Then don’t. Rest a bit longer.” I perched on the edge of her bed.

Her gaze met mine squarely. “How long will you remain with us?”

“As long as you need me.”

“I am well. The children can help me.”

My smile faltered. “Do you wish me to leave?”

“No, I wish you to be with your husband.”

I looked at my hands, twisting in my lap. “He still seeks his fortune in the wildest part of Virginia.”

“He has been there a long time with no contact,” Frances said, her tone mildly reproving. “Why does he not send for you?”

I kept my expression calm, except for my eyes, and they conveyed a warning that my sister-in-law should have no difficulty reading. “Until he is assured that I can be safe and happy, he will not ask me to join him.”

“How can you be happy when you are parted?”

I nodded at her perception. I was content, but no more. She must know this to be true.

“Susanna, do not wait for him to ask. Go. Find a party that is journeying west and travel with them.”

It would be even easier than Frances could imagine. I could just go. It would take no more than a fifteen-minute walk to be with Mark.

The thought tempted me beyond measure.

What was he doing now—at this very moment? In the twenty-first century, they had celebrated Thanksgiving a week ago. Had he come home for the holiday? When would he arrive for his Christmas break?

Did he have a girlfriend yet? Certainly, he would be able to choose among many young ladies, as wondrous a man as he was. Perhaps he wouldn’t want me.

I longed to believe that he was thriving. College must surely have given him interesting things to learn and new friends to meet. Mark had doubtless found a new path to follow by now. If I reappeared, it would only cause him to stumble. Wouldn’t it? “I fear that I do not belong in his world.”

She patted my hand. “If you belong together, the world does not matter.”

I drew in a deep breath and allowed her words to fill me. Was she right? Could I ignore the trappings of his world? Could a girl with no education, little ambition, and scarred limbs make sense at his side?

I’ll try to be worth you
.

No, it had never been Mark’s fault. It was I who did not make sense.
I
would be an eternal burden to
him
.

The whispers of something Dorcas had once said echoed through my mind. I did love Mark as no one else could. Yet—could love ever be enough?

C
HAPTER
F
IFTY

B
ACK TO
T
HE
P
RESENT

The first semester of my freshman year had ended on Friday. Exams were behind us. Students were streaming away from campus as fast as their cars—or their parents’ cars—could take them.

I woke up late on Saturday morning. It was December ninth. My nineteenth birthday. I packed the truck leisurely, headed to my favorite diner for breakfast, and then began the journey to Raleigh. There was no reason to hurry. I drove alone, in silence, lost in my thoughts. I’d be home by early afternoon.

After seven months without Susanna, I’d learned how to function. I had to. Eternity stretched before me. Something had to be done with it.

The most important thing I’d learned at college was not to be anxious about what lay ahead. Before I went to Newman, I’d wondered if I would ever find a career I’d love. Now there were too many to choose from. That was a good place to be.

I liked what I was hearing about social work, but there were other careers, too. Politics. Maybe even law. I’d never expected to consider them, but now that I knew what it felt like to triumph over bad guys—in two different centuries—I’d become interested in
real
justice. I’d discovered how much I loved research. I was good at combing through huge amounts of data, looking for tiny “needles” of information. It would give me a lot of satisfaction to help other people navigate around the bullies and haystacks in their lives.

Yeah, I had a future.

It took me four hours to reach home. Marissa’s car and Granddad’s truck were in the driveway.

I parked on the street, thinking through the message that their presence sent. I’d asked my parents to keep today quiet. If they’d planned a surprise birthday party, it wasn’t much of a surprise with the cars out here.

Fine. But could they at least have given me an hour to relax before having everyone show up?

I grabbed my backpack from the front seat and trudged up the driveway. My other luggage and stuff could wait.

When I walked in through the front door, everyone stood in the foyer, still as statues. And I mean everyone. My parents. My grandparents. Marissa and Michael.

“Hey.”

They all stared silently. What? No shouts of
Happy Birthday
?

I frowned at them. “What’s going on?”

They turned as a group and looked into the family room. I did, too.

A girl stood beside the Christmas tree. She was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen, with big, dark eyes in a pale, oval face. Thick brown hair hung to her waist, her gorgeous body wrapped in denim and red lace.

Sounds muffled. The room froze and faded to black. She was the only color.

I tried to move but my body refused, as if the air shimmering between us was too dense to breach. Was I in a dream?

The
thud
of my backpack hitting the floor startled me out of my trance. I swallowed around the aching pain in my throat. “Susanna.” It came out on a croak.

“Mark.” Her voice was low and husky.

I couldn’t really say how I got to her—fly, trip, run, crawl? But I did. And then I was pressed against her, one hand at her waist, the other clawing through the silk of her hair. I buried my face in the curve of her shoulder and cried tears of relief. Fear. Frustration. Joy.

“Shh, my love,” she whispered, her small hand caressing my neck. “I am here.”

I raised my head slowly, never breaking contact, until we were cheek to cheek. I drank in long, slow breaths—and with them, the sweet smell of
her
.

My hands roamed everywhere, restlessly seeking her waist, her back, her hips, her hair. I’d never expected to touch her again, and now I couldn’t get enough.

My mouth grazed her jaw, seeking blindly for her mouth.

Susanna threaded her fingers in my hair, guiding, tugging, until our lips merged.

If this was a hallucination, I didn’t want it to end. But I had to trust this, right? Her mouth felt so familiar. The curves and dips of her body under my hands—I knew them, too.

“Mark,” she said, pulling back to look up at me. “I love you.”

“I love you,” I said, and then reached for her again, latching onto her mouth like I needed her kisses to live.

Hell, I did.

My senses were on fire. The softness of her lips. Her rose-scented hair. The touch of her slim hands on my chest. It was incredible. Amazing.

The taste of my own tears pulled me back to the present.

She was real. She was here.

But she was the one who had walked away.

I yanked back as abruptly as I’d grabbed her. “You left me.”

“Yes. I am sorry.”

“It’s not that easy, Susanna.” Anger hardened in my jaw so that it barely moved. “You destroyed me.”

She nodded, remorse darkening her eyes.

“What made you come back now?”

“I have finally accepted that…” She paused, shivering. “I want more than the simplicity of contentment. The ups and downs in our relationship will bring me great joy, and I want them to bring you great joy, too.”

Hadn’t I tried to tell her that? Hadn’t she known all along that I never thought of her as a burden—that we both had our problems, but that we could work them out together? “Why should I believe that you’ve really got it this time?”

She framed my face with her hands. “You deserve the best, and that can only come from me. No one will ever love you the way I do.”