Magical Weddings (91 page)

A jingling sound caught my attention, and I lifted my head to locate its source. A wagon turned into the drive led by two brown horses. I didn’t know whether to jump to my feet and run, or beg whomever it was to help me, or hide. Help me with what? Returning to the future?

The driver, a man, brought the horses to a halt and jumped down from the wagon. He moved to the bed of the wagon as if to unload something, and I stood. My movement, and perhaps the brightness of the flowers on my dress, caught his eye, and he turned to look at me.

Over six feet tall with broad shoulders and a slender waist, his hair was covered by the dark broad-brimmed hat on his head. A strong chin jutted out below angular cheeks. He wore a light-blue shirt and brown trousers above boots. Dark-blue suspenders hung loosely at his sides, as if he didn’t like to wear them.

“Hello,” he said, his voice a pleasant baritone. “And who might you be?”

My heart, thudding loudly, skipped a beat.

“Sara Hamilton,” I said. I bit my lip, wishing I’d used another name, but perhaps he wouldn’t recognize the last name as the one on the stone in the cemetery.

“Sara Hamilton, is it? And what can I do for you, Miss Hamilton?”

He abandoned whatever he had been about to do in the back of the wagon and approached me, growing taller by the minute. I caught his eyes on my bare legs, and knew I was in trouble. No woman in 1880 wore knee-length dresses. Well, maybe saloon girls did...somewhere, but probably not in Lilium, Iowa.

I had no way to hide my legs and didn’t know whether to sit and pull the dress over them or keep standing. I stood.

“Who are you?” Nerves made my question sound haughtier than I intended.

“Well, I’m looking after the place, Miss Hamilton. Jonas Ramsey, at your service.” He took off his hat and executed a small bow. Dark black hair gleamed in the sunlight.

I gasped. No! This man was going to die, and from the looks of it, fairly soon. He couldn’t have been much younger than twenty-five. Unaware of what I did, I ran off the porch and grasped his hands. Warm with roughened calluses, he held mine in his.

“Jonas? Are you all right? Do you feel all right?”

Bright teeth flashed against the tan of his face, and he laughed.

“Well, yes, Miss Hamilton, I am well. Thank you. Are you well?” He looked at me as if he wasn’t quite sure. I saw his eyes drop to my legs again.

“What year is this?” I asked. I tried desperately to remember the date of his death on the tombstone.

He was game, if startled.

“1881.”

Yes, that was it, 1881. Jonas would die this year sometime. I didn’t remember seeing a month or day, just the year.

Teal-blue eyes looked down at me kindly.

“Miss Hamilton, are you all right? Can I get you some water?”

“Yes,” I said distractedly. “What do you do for a living? Is it dangerous?”

He had been about to turn toward the house, presumably to get me some water, when he paused, eyeing me with an expression of concern. I didn’t blame him.

“Not particularly. I own the neighboring farm. As I said, I am taking care of this house until the new owners are able to move in later this year. There is nothing particularly dangerous in either of those occupations, except perhaps getting kicked by one of my horses.” He grinned as if that would never happen.

How on earth could I warn this man he would die soon? How could I prevent his death if I didn’t know how it was going to happen? Was that the reason I had traveled into the past? Did I actually have a purpose here?

“Let me get you that water,” he said. “Would you like to come inside?”

I hesitated.

“There is no one here at present,” he said. “Perhaps you think it unwise to enter the house without a chaperone. A wise decision. Why don’t you rest here on the porch while I fetch the water?”

I nodded, still bemused at what I imagined was my mission to save Jonas’s life. In the absence of any porch furnishings, I retook my seat on the steps.

Jonas returned quickly with a glass of water and handed it to me. He startled me when he lowered himself to sit beside me. My cheeks flamed at his close proximity. I accepted the glass of water with thanks and averted my face from his friendly, if concerned, smile.

I eyed the water with skepticism but drank obediently. Obviously, the locals drank the water, and they were all still doing fine, so I hoped I would too. I took a sip and cupped the glass in my hands.

“So, Miss Hamilton, you never did say why you were here. Were you looking for someone in particular? How did you get here? Did you walk from town?”

“Oh, I...uh...yes, I walked from town,” I said. “Looking for someone? Umm, no, I don’t think so. I think I was just looking at the house. It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

“It is indeed!” he grinned. He looked over his shoulder toward the house. “Darius just rebuilt it last year.”

I jerked, and water sloshed from the glass.

“Darius?” I squeaked. “Where is he? Is he here?”

Jonas took the cup from my shaking hands and set it down before pivoting his body toward me and taking my hands gently in his.

“Miss Hamilton, is it Darius you have come to see? I am so sorry to have to tell you that he died last year. I am so very sorry.”

His eyes watched me with sympathy, and his hands warmed my cold ones. I realized my mouth was open as I stared at him, and I snapped it shut.

“Oh!” I said, more as an acknowledgement that he had said something than with any purpose.

“Yes, I am so very sorry. Did you know Darius well?”

I shook my head. “No, not well,” I said. Should I have said I never met him at all? I wasn’t sure where my lies would take me. I hadn’t noticed his tombstone though when I was at the cemetery.

“Is there something I could help you with? Did you have business with him or...”

I wondered the same thing. Poor Jonas was very curious, and I had no real information to offer to satisfy his curiosity.

“I’m sorry too,” I said, more for him than for me. “Were you friends?”

“Yes, though of recent acquaintanceship. I moved out from the East last year and bought a farm. Darius was building the house, and I helped him a bit.”

“Oh!” I said inanely again. A new thought struck me. “I didn’t see his tombstone in the cemetery.”

Jonas shook his head. “No, he is not buried there. In fact, I do not know where he is buried. He simply vanished one day, leaving a will with his attorney. He is presumed dead. His housekeeper and her family were provided for. They still tend to the house and farm but are away visiting family, so I stop by to see to things.”

I sighed. Jonas’s long sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, and he leaned well-tanned arms on his knees. Inexplicably exhausted, I had the oddest desire to lay my head on his arms and close my eyes.

And I did.

Jonas jerked momentarily but then settled. I think I must have dozed—or passed out—because the next thing I knew, he was holding me in his arms and shaking me gently.

“Miss Hamilton? Miss Hamilton? Are you all right?”

His shirt smelled of soap, and I breathed in deeply before opening my eyes. I straightened, and he released me.

“I’m sorry about that,” I said. I had no excuse. To say that I wanted to touch his skin, to lay my face against his arms, was probably just too weird, and not something I had ever done before. Brad and I had shown each other affection, even passion when making love, but I hadn’t been particularly physically drawn to him. He was an attractive man, and I assumed it was simply not in my practical nature.

Until I looked at Jonas, that was. There was nothing practical in how I felt about the blue of his eyes, the whiteness of his teeth when he smiled, the golden color of the tanned skin revealed by his open collar or the sheen of the blue-black hair peeping below his hat.

“There is no need to be sorry, Miss Hamilton. I am concerned about you though. You still have not told me why you came to the house, nor how you know Darius. You say you walked from town, but Lilium is a very small town. If you lived there, I would have known about it. The ladies of the town have been trying to find me a wife since I arrived last year.” At this, he chuckled, but his cheeks bronzed. “They would have produced you if you lived in Lilium.” His eyes dropped to my legs, and I smoothed my dress further down my legs.

“No, I’m not from Lilium. I came to see Darius because...” I sighed. I had nothing. “Well, I can’t explain it really. You can tell I’m not from around here because of my clothing. I’m going to guess it’s a bit risqué?”

He raised his eyes from my legs and looked at me with a twinkle in his eyes.

“Yes, that is a good word. Risqué. If you cannot tell me why you came to see Darius, can you at least tell me where you are from?”

“Seattle,” I said.

“A long journey!” he said with a raised eyebrow. “And are you staying in town?”

I narrowed my eyes. “No, not really.”

“Not really?”

I grinned then. What could I do?

“Okay, I’ll tell you everything only because I don’t know what else to do. You have to promise me though, Jonas. Promise me that you will not have me locked up. Even if you think I’m crazy, promise me.”

He drew his dark eyebrows together and tilted his head.

“I do find you most unusual, Miss Hamilton, but I promise, not so unusual that I would seek to have you committed to an asylum, even were it within my power. Does that suffice?”

“It’s going to have to,” I said.

“I come from the future. That is how I know Darius. He is married to my sister. In fact, he just married her today.” As I spoke, I stared out into the garden, rather terrified to see Jonas’s expression. I had decided on the truth because I couldn’t seem to make up any believable lies and because I wanted to help save his life, if I could.

“I’m from about a hundred and thirty some years in the future. I was at the cemetery where Molly and Darius got married—don’t ask why they married in a cemetery—and I touched a headstone. Somehow, I was transported back in time.”

I found it hard to tell him that it was his stone.

“And here I am, in my go-to-weddings dress, lost and unsure how to get back home.”

I looked at Jonas then. He removed his hat and settled it on the porch beside him. Soft waves of black hair fell across his forehead, and I eyed it with appreciation. He seemed so alive, so full of vitality. How could he die?

He tilted his head as if he didn’t know what to make of me.

“That is quite a tale, Miss Hamilton,” he said finally with a shake of his head. “I could not have imagined such a story.”

“Neither could I when I met Darius. I knew he was unusual, old-fashioned and impossibly formal, but I never would have believed he traveled in time, not until he disappeared right in front of me. He came back here. The house burned down, and he rebuilt it.”

“Yes, it did burn down. You are trying to tell me that Darius is alive...in another year...over a century into the future.”

I nodded. “He’s staying there permanently, I think because it would be easier for my sister. It would be hard for her to live in the past, before electricity and running water, antibiotics and computers, cars and microwaves.” I could have gone on and on.

“I do not understand many of your terms, Miss Hamilton, which gives me pause. I find it very difficult to believe that time travel is possible. Would I not have heard of it before?”

“Well, where do you think Darius went? You said he disappeared after making his will. He knew he was leaving forever. He wanted to rebuild the house so that it would still be there for the future. He and my sister live in it, though it now has electricity and running water.”

“The house is wired for electricity,” Jonas said. “I was fascinated by Darius’s description of it and have decided to incorporate it into my own farmhouse.”

I looked up as if to see utility poles.

“How would you generate the electricity?” I asked.

“As you said, a generator. Darius did seem to have a great deal of knowledge regarding electricity and plumbing. I learned a great deal from him.”

“See?” I said.

He pressed his lips together and squinted at the sun for a few seconds before dropping his eyes to my face.

“If I were to believe you, and I cannot in all honesty say that I do, could you not simply return to the cemetery and touch the stone to reverse the travel?”

I bit my lip.

“It’s not there, thank goodness. I looked at the other stones when I was just up there, and that person hasn’t died yet.”

“Whose headstone was it?”

I balked. No, I couldn’t tell him it was his. I just couldn’t.

“No one you would know,” I said.

“But someone you know?”

“I’ve met him,” I said.

“So, it was a man.”

“Yes, a young man, too young to die.”

“I am sorry for your loss, Miss Hamilton. Your grief is reflected on your face.”

I covered a cheek with my hand. “Really? I honestly didn’t know him that well. I had just met him.”

“And he died.”

I nodded.

“How?”

“I don’t know,” I said with a shake of my head. “I wish I did. I would do anything to stop it.”

“Is that another one of your powers? The ability to prevent death?”