Closer To You (Tales of the Sweet Magnolia Book 1) (19 page)

***

“Jake…hey, Jake.” A distant voice pulled at him, dragging him from a deep void. He hadn’t slept that soundly in more than a year. 

“I think I may have a lead on that woman you were looking for.” He frowned, the voice was not familiar.

“Jesus man, when was the last time you slept? You’ve been burning the candle at both ends. That doesn’t make for a very good sheriff, cowboy.”

Jake struggled to open his eyes. They felt weighted down. He tried to speak, but his mouth tasted like he’d been on a three-day walk in the dessert. The pungent smell of roasting…make that burnt, coffee caught his attention. He needed something stout right about now. “Can you get me a cup of that, Nate?” he whispered through the dryness in his throat.

“Get your own damn coffee. I won’t touch that pot. I don’t know where it’s been, and who the hell is Nate?” the irate voice sputtered.

Jake’s eyes suddenly popped open and the first thing he saw was a framed photo of himself in a dark blue uniform of some type. The second was an odd looking box with words printed on the glass front.

“Shit, dude. You look like you have one mother of a hangover. You better not let the captain see you like this. Hey, take a look what I found.” He handed him a newspaper. “Check out the ad in the lower left hand corner. You think it might have anything to do with that woman you’ve been trying to find?”

Jake read the advertisement—
Found: Antique necklace in local library. Owner identification required.
It gave the address. His eyes zeroed in on the contact name—
Lillian White
.

“That address is one of the first libraries in Virginia City. Weird, right? That’s over at fifth and St. Charles—kind of a neighborhood district. It’s on the registry of historic places.”

Jake’s thoughts were still muddled, but he was cognizant enough to realize that the old man had accomplished what he said he would do. “Damn, Fesuvius,” he stated quietly, realizing that what Lillian had been trying to tell him about time-travel was true.

“Fesuvius? Is that the new pizza place in town?” The broad shouldered gent with flaming red hair peered down at him from a short wall made of material that Jake had never seen.

He had a feeling that was going to happen a lot for a while.

“What day is it?” he asked picking at the gray shirt with short sleeves he wore. In some kind of way, the University of Nevada was printed to the fabric.

“Friday, man. And let me just say that if my work pans out and you find this elusive Ms. Lillian, I will require the payment of a giant steak and a cold beer as my fee, bro.”

Bro?
Jake nodded. “Sure.” If this led him to Lil, he’d find this guy the biggest steak in all the Nevada territory. “You’re sure this is correct information?” Jake attempted to stand, but the chair’s movable seat, twirled, toppling him to his knees. It threw his new friend into hysterical laughter.

“It’s an ad, bro, but a strong lead if you ask me. Sometimes though what you’re looking for turns out to be so close you can’t see it.” He eyed Jake. “I’m thinking you don’t belong behind a wheel. So I’m going to sneak you out of here before the captain sees your sorry ass, and then I want you to call in, take some sick time, and get a little R and R.”

“R and R?” Jake repeated, puzzled. On his feet now, he looked around and spied a worn dark leather coat hanging over the back of his chair. He slipped it over his arms and it fit perfectly, except for the fact that it hit at his hip, rather than his calves.

“Yeah, you know, rest and relaxation. You’ve been working too many late nights, between this personal shit and that drug cartel case. You need to take a few days, catch up. We sure as hell don’t need any sloppy accidents on the squad.”

“Squad?” 

“Jake, could you please cut the frickin’ parakeet crap? You’re giving me the creeps.”

It was clear that Jake had a lot more than sleep to catch up on. He picked up the newspaper again and searched for a date. He found it in the upper right hand corner. “September 1, 2015,” he spoke aloud.

“Yeah, pretty frickin’ amazing how time flies, eh?”

“You’ve no idea…
bro
,” Jake answered drily. Literally.

“All right, come on, then. Let’s get you over to see your Miss Marion the librarian.”

Jake grabbed the man’s arm. “The ad said her name was Lillian White.” A stab of cold fear that he’d wound up in the wrong place assaulted him.

“It is.” He looked at Jake with a scowl. “What? You’ve never seen
The Music Man
?”

Jake shook his head.

“We’ve got to get you out more,” his new friend remarked. “Come on, Sleeping Beauty.” He ushered Jake to go with him and taking a quick assessment of how to get through the maze of short walls, Jake found the right path to reach him, stepping in behind him.

“Funny you were looking for a missing librarian.” The man spoke over his shoulder. “Wouldn’t have figured that she’d be your type. Back in training you were a wild man.”

Training?
Jake was having a hard time piecing together the mechanics of how this worked. Apparently, like Lil, he woke up in his own body, but with another person’s identity already established in that time period. In retrospect, he admired her for the gracious way she’d handled the challenge. How strange it must have been. He followed the tall, red-haired man through a maze of desks, most filled with men dressed like him and a few others, including women, dressed in fancy blue shirts with gold badges pinned to their chests. “My badge.” Jake stopped suddenly and patted down his pockets.

“Check your jacket,” the man tossed over his shoulder.

Jake found a flat square leather pouch in his coat pocket. He flipped it open and discovered his badge inside. Though its shape had changed over time, it was still polished gold and engraved with the Nevada Sheriff. He smiled. He might be in a different era, but he’d landed in the right place.

“You ready to roll?”

Roll?
“Uh, yeah.” He spotted some kind of new-fangled machine in the corner, but the smell was unmistakable. “Care if I grab a cup of coffee?” Jake asked.

“It’s your stomach, but hey, knock yourself out. I’ll get the car and meet you out front.”

“Russell,” a deep authoritative voice bellowed from behind Jake.

Jake’s friend turned around. “Yes, sir.”

“I want you to get your butt over to the Imperial and find out what that madam has found out for us.”

“Aye, aye, sir,” Russell responded.

“Sloan, you look like hell. Go home,” the Captain remarked, then spun on his heel and returned to his office, slamming the door behind him. Jake stared after him. He figured that he might actually enjoy getting to work with that guy.

Russell rolled his eyes at Jake. “Let’s go, you heard the man.”

Jake took a sip of the rich-smelling brew. He gasped and coughed after the first swallow. His eyes watered.

“I did warn you. You never want to touch that stuff. No one even knows when it was made last.”

Jake slid the cup on the counter and hurried to keep up with Russell. They walked through two sets of brass and pane glass doors and found themselves outside. Instead of a wood plank covered porch they stood on a solid platform made of smooth stone. Jake stood for a moment and took it all in. Strange looking modes of transportation, of every size, color, and description moved up and down the streets, miraculously not hitting each other. In the array of tall stone and glass buildings, he recognized only two. One of them was the St. Charles hotel. “That’s the St. Charles?” He pointed to the structure with its clapboard sides, a stark difference to the stone building next to it that rose high as a mountain peak in the sky.

“Yeah, that used to be the old hotel. Now, it’s a museum.” He looked at Jake as he fished for something in his trouser pocket. He pulled out a set of keys, smaller, but not unlike a set they had back at the jailhouse.

“Hop in,” Russell instructed as he disappeared inside the metal-covered

wagon. Jake looked it over, scratched his head and was about to ask how he was supposed to get in when the door swung toward him and Russell peered up at him. “You act like you’ve never ridden in my car. Come on, I’ve got things to do.”

Jake climbed in and with a turn of the key, it seemed the wagon lurched forward. He grabbed the handle on the door and slammed it shut, offering Russell an apologetic smile.

Russell shook his head. “I don’t know where your little siesta took you, bro, but you sure you’re going to be okay? You’re kind of out of it.”

Jake couldn’t have agreed more. But he was here now and there wasn’t much else he could do except adapt as best as he could. Until he knew whether this ability to go from one time to another was commonplace, he’d better try to get along and not speak about it until he saw Lil. Maybe she would be able to shed some light on all of this.

Lil. He hoped it was her. A sobering thought occurred to him suddenly. Would she be as she was when she left the Magnolia? Would she maybe be older now? He realized that he hadn’t seen a reflection of himself yet. What did he look like? Jake patted his face, gently squeezed his nose, and checked for the tiny scar at the corner of his brow.

“There’s a mirror there on the visor, Casanova, if you want to check out your ugly mug.” His friend, despite the rude sentiment wore a big grin.

Jake pulled down the “visor” and finding the same face as he’d always had. That was a mild relief. His hair, still to his collar in length, was styled slightly different, but everything else was exactly the same. Damn, the truth was he looked good for having traveled one hundred thirty years into the future. Russell’s metal wagon moved swiftly over the stone road. Colored lights seemed to control the stop and go motion, lessening the chances it seemed of folks running into each other. Jake had not seen a single horse. Russell swung the wagon around a corner and came to stop.

“We’re here, bro. Get on in there and see if this is the woman you told me you saw at that reenactment last weekend. What did you call her again?”

“My passion?” Jake asked as he stepped from the wagon. He paused at the base of a set of steps that led to the small, but grand building at the top of the hill.

Etched across the stone above the entryway were the words
District 74, Public Library, Estb.1881
.

“Yeah, that was it. I may have to borrow that line for my date Friday night. Good luck with your woman of destiny. Let me know what happens.” Russell sped off.

Jakes heart thudded against his ribcage as he started up the steps.

Long walks, sleepless nights, and even taking up riding lessons didn’t quell the restlessness inside Lil. She’d read and re-read the book about the Sweet Magnolia, feeling an unmistakable kinship to the woman with the same name, who once was madam of the parlor house. Though many of the small mining towns remained, many were now ghost towns, tourist attractions, or simply didn’t exist—such was the case with Deadwater. 

She would stand for hours at a time, studying the intricate mosaic detail of the stained glass window at the back of the library, drawn to its dark green tangled vines and large white magnolia blossoms, the size of a man’s hand. It hung in a western window and Burt had told her that it was done on purpose to catch the best light from the setting sun. He couldn’t, however, remember how it wound up in the last aisle of the library. For months, Lil dreamt fitfully of a dark-haired man with piercing brown eyes and a smile that turned those dreams into torrid fantasies, leaving her unsatisfied and even more confused with each new day.

She’d read, with a strange ache in her heart, the passage in the book about the

Deadwater sheriff and his deputy who led more than one search party looking for Madam Lil when she suddenly disappeared. It was some time later, that the sheriff too, left town. Perhaps despondent over losing Lil, or maybe he found her.

It was all speculation from the author and those who helped her write the book.

By the time of publication, no one had either seen or heard from the sheriff again.

She fantasized after a time that the mysterious man she dreamed about and this Sheriff Jake Sloan, a man who clearly had serious feelings for Miss Lillian and had never given up looking for her, could be one in the same. But she’d never seen a photo of him as an adult. All that was in the book was a faded picture of him as a small boy, standing beside a gaunt, unsmiling woman. The caption read that it was not his birth mother, but the woman who raised him. The poor boy was not aware until many years later that his birth mother had been one of the soiled doves at the Sweet Magnolia. His father, a strict fire and brimstone preacher in Deadwater, had tried to use this information to thwart his son’s reputation, but it backfired, leaving the preacher without a congregation. It wasn’t until sometime later that he found redemption by partnering with Rosemond Clancy on the
Tales of the Sweet Magnolia
.

Lil couldn’t explain her dreams, any more than she could explain awakening at times, to smell a musky male scent on her pillow. And she couldn’t remember how she’d come to have the golden shamrock necklace around her neck, but decided, as did Burt, that it must have been in the box when she passed out from the heat in her apartment. Her conclusions to the mysterious questions floating in her mind were enough to motivate her to put an ad in the paper and try to find the true owner of the ornate piece of jewelry. Several weeks went by and Lil’s life began to slip back into a routine. Interest in the library was given a shot in the arm by State funding and the Friends of the Library festival was just around the corner, held every year on the dedication day of the original library.

***

“I’ll be waxing the front entrance if you need me, Lillian.

Pulled from her thoughts, she glanced up from staring at the carved box containing the necklace. There’d not been a single nibble in weeks to the ad she’d placed in the local papers. Not even the flyers that the “Friends” put up around the neighborhood had helped. She met the library custodian’s brilliant blue eyes. Lately he’d taken to braiding his silvery locks, giving him the appearance of a short Willie Nelson wanna-be.

“I think you and I are the only ones left,” Lil replied. “Thank goodness it’s almost closing time.” She removed her reading glasses and pinched the bridge of her nose. “I have a few books left to put away. You can go ahead and lock up front.”

“Another headache, Lil?” Burt asked in his soft-spoken voice.

She nodded, feeling the strangest urge to cry. “I don’t know what’s wrong. I can’t seem to sleep well.”

“You might try a shot of whiskey in your tea tonight.” He shuffled toward the lobby, scooting his pail and broom in front of him, the methodic squeak of the wheels echoing in the vast dome of the front foyer.

“Yeah, maybe I’ll try that,” she answered absentmindedly as she opened her bag to drop the small box inside. Her eye caught the cover of the book she’d checked out months ago, the one she’d been reluctant to let go of. She pulled it out holding it reverently as she studied the cover. It showed an old Victorian clapboard house—perhaps an old farmhouse at one time, but it stroked a sentimental chord within her that she couldn’t explain, like looking at a forgotten picture of a special time in your past. Perhaps it signified a dream that would forever remain in her heart, but could never become a reality.

Lil realized suddenly that she didn’t remember ever telling Burt about her nighttime ritual of tea. Or maybe she had. She shook her head, her shoulders slumping with her sigh. Maybe it was time that she stopped living in the past. These musings, dreams, whatever you wanted to call them were causing issues for her health—both mental and physical. Deep down she knew she needed to shelve the book and her obsession with the lives of those of Deadwater. In her futile attempts to place some connection between her dreams and reality, it had served no other purpose than to make her aware that whoever this man in her dreams was, he did not exist on any plane other than her imagination.

“Like I said, Burt,” she said wistfully, “there are no cowboys left to ride off into the sunset with.” Lillian pushed from her chair; book in hand, following through with what she should have done weeks ago.

Her heels clicked a rapid tattoo as she walked with haste to the far western corner of the library. She checked the Dewey number on the binding and with a quick perusal discovered it belonged on the top shelf. She scooted the rolling ladder to the exact spot and untucking the book from beneath her arm, leafed through its pages once more. Perhaps she hoped to find something that would explain the void inside her? Lil paused at the picture of Reverend Sloan, his dark gaze intense. They reminded her of the man’s eyes in her dreams. Her gaze flitted to the picture of his wife and their young son. The photo appeared to have been a special occasion, perhaps first communion, given the fine clothes they wore. She stared at the young Jake Sloan’s face and tried to imagine him as a grown man.

With an unexplainable resignation, she closed the book. She could no longer dwell in her imagination. She had a life to live, a good career and she was doing what she loved. All she could hope for was that these things would eventually fill the void within her. She climbed the ladder’s two short steps and when she came eye level to the top shelf she made a note to return soon with a dust cloth and some wood polish.

“Excuse me, I’m looking for a Miss Lillian White?”

The low-timbered sound of a man’s voice resounded in the silence of the near empty library. Burt must have let him in. Lil continued her pursuit of placing the book between the others on the shelf. “I’ll be with you in a moment,” she stated aloud to the patron, hoping that whatever he wanted wouldn’t take too much time. Lori was supposed to call from Greece later. Disgusted with the thick covering of dust, she swiped the bindings with her fingers and followed by trying to blow it away. A small cloud of dirt particles flew up in her face, and she squeezed her eyes shut instinctively.

“Burt said you were back here. Seems like a nice man, though a little on the eccentric side, maybe.”

Lil turned her face away, waving her hand to dissipate the swirling haze lingering in the air. Her gaze landed on the rays of the western sun, just beginning to filter through the beautiful stained glass window accentuating its dark green twisted vines and large white magnolia blossoms. She realized she hadn’t defended the man’s unwarranted perception of Burt. “I beg your pardon, sir. Burt is a pillar of honesty and hard work and he’s been around here for as long as I can remember. You’d be surprised at what you can learn from your elders. They’ve lived through what we know as the past, so have a little respect, please.”

“I meant no disrespect,” the faceless voice answered.

Admittedly, her emotions were running a bit on edge. “I’m sorry, but the library is closing. May I help you find something?”

“All this dust sort of gives new meaning to the historical section.” She heard a low chuckle. “I’m here about the ad.”

The man’s voice, closer now, startled her, and the book slipped from her grasp.

It landed with a loud bang, sounding like a gunshot when it hit the floor. Lil backed quickly down the ladder, fearing that the binding had been broken and vowed she would go back to her sensible flats tomorrow. She bent down and as she reached to pick it up, a man’s hand closed over hers. Startled yet again, she jerked her hand away at the spine-tingling sensation that went through her body. Lil straightened on wobbly legs and reached for the ladder to steady her. She placed a hand to her chest, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath to calm her nerves. Something was not right. Maybe she’d call for an appointment with her physician, it had been a while. Her heart raced at the residual jumpstart she felt when the strangers hand touched hers. Lil licked her lips, preparing to open her eyes and face him. “

“Are you here to identify the necklace?”

“I am, but here, I believe you dropped this.” The obscure faces of the women on the cover of the Tales of the Sweet Magnolia stared up at her. Tears pricked at the back of her eyes.
What was happening to her?
Had she fallen and bumped her head?

“I suspect the necklace you have resembles a gold shamrock?”

Lil accepted the book, unable yet to look at him. There was something familiar about his voice and it stopped had temporarily stopped her brain from functioning.

“And I believe this must be yours as well.”

She could only stare in disbelief as he turned her hand and placed a red ruby amulet in her palm.

“You left it in my pocket the night you left,” he stated quietly. “I’ve been looking for you for so long, Lil. I thought I’d never find you again.”

***

Lillian gawked at the necklace. This was crazy…impossible. She swallowed, cautiously lifting her gaze, and met the dark eyes that had plagued her dreams. “It’s you. You’re real? But how…?”

He was dressed in faded blue jeans, a gray University of Nevada T-shirt and a weathered old leather motorcycle jacket. He was sexy as hell and looked like heaven. He took a step toward her and reached up, brushing his knuckles across her cheek. “Jesus Lil—that look, you know what it does to me.” He swallowed hard. “It was the ad. This guy I know down at the jail….”

Lil shook her head in disbelief. “The jail…what, here?”

He shrugged and pulled out his badge, flashing it to her. “Yeah, it’s where I work. I’ve been looking for this woman I knew once. All I had to go on was her name. The ad caught the eye of one of the guys I know. I took the chance it might be you.” Jake pulled a yellowed piece of paper from his pocket. “Paddy had forgotten you gave him this.”

She took the paper, recognizing her own handwriting. Was it possible that these thoughts, these images she’d experienced like flashbacks to another life were real? “If this is true, how did you get here?” She drank in the sight of him. The man in her deepest fantasies stood before her. She wanted to touch him, but feared he would disappear like the cloud of dust.

He took another step, boxing her in. He hadn’t touched her, but her skin felt on fire. The foggy memory of a dark hallway popped in her brain—she wore a skimpy robe and she was speaking to an angry cowboy with a black hat and a worn duster.
How was this possible?

“We have so much to catch up on, Lil.” He leaned in, nuzzling the curve of her neck.

“Oh lord,” she sighed, dipping away from him. “This can’t be happening.” Her evasive maneuvers didn’t stop him.

A wicked smile appeared on his handsome face. “You know it’s real, Lil. One kiss. Let me prove how real I am.” He curled his hand around her neck and she went willingly into his embrace. “You smell the same as I remember, like sunshine and soap.”

She searched his eyes. “It is really you, Jake? I don’t understand.”

He held his face in her hands. “Some things are beyond understanding, Lil, but maybe what we want most is never further from us than our deepest desire. I needed to tell you how I felt about you. The thought that I didn’t have that chance was what kept me looking for you. I never gave up.”

“I thought I’d imagined you. That you were nothing more than a fantasy.” Her heart pounded in her chest. She reached up with a shaky hand and touched his unshaven cheek. The urge to pull his mouth to hers made her dizzy with need. She blinked, smiling as she held back tears of joy. “What was it that you wanted to tell me?” If she’d bumped her head and was in a coma, she prayed she wouldn’t wake up. Her memories, everything was coming back to her in a rush of awareness. Here he was, flesh and bone, those dark eyes searching deep into her soul. “I’m plum crazy about you, Lil. If that’s love, then so be it. All I know is that

I about died when you left.”

His admission opened the floodgates of emotions she’d been trying to deny for months, chalking them up to nothing more than her vivid dreams. “Jake,” she spoke softly, her eyes resting on the lips that could bring her to heights of untold passion. “I’ve missed you. Where have you been?”