Timeless Love (3 page)

"Make it one of each."

Joey stood by the counter. He heard the sizzle
of the fish as it was lowered in the hot oil.

He was still puzzled over this chick's magic
appearance. He believed in things he could see and touch and Lady
Cathy was real enough, but she had materialized in a flash of light
in an old style carriage. Joey shook his head.
All of this was
far out.

Joey glanced toward the back and could see
Bill the owner toiling away through the cut out in the wall. He had
a cigarette dangling from his lip with a good quarter-inch of ash
hanging precariously at the tip. Maybe that's why the man's fish
and chips tasted so good.

Bill soon shuffled out with two cardboard
boats with fish and chips. He covered them with another boat,
wrapped them in brown paper and then bagged them for good measure.
Bill was ex-Canadian Navy and had tattoos covering both muscular
arms. His uniform consisted of an undershirt, a long dirty canvas
apron, and matching hat. The ash fell off the cigarette and hit the
counter. With a swipe of his meaty hand, Bill flicked the ash onto
the floor. "3.25, kid."

Jack had a small display case on the counter
were he sold a couple of staples like bread and cigarettes. "I'll
take a loaf of the Wonder Bread too."

Purchases paid for, Joey sprinted up the hill
toward his apartment. He unlocked the door and walked in. Lady
Cathy sat in the exact spot where he left her, a frown still on her
face.

"I want to go home," she said
crossly.

Chapter Three

Catherine had been sitting and stewing ever
since Joey Indelli left her to purchase the food. Deep-boned
irritated described her mood. Why did this happen to her? She had
been puzzling the dilemma in her mind since Mr. Indelli left. Her
body still ached from her strange journey. The only conclusion she
had come up with so far was the carriage and occupants and no doubt
the driver and horses were caught up in an unexplainable
mystery.

"And where is home?"

She gazed up at him. He held a large sack and
there was a puzzled look on his face.

"St. John is a tiny village on the south east
coast of Cornwall. I live there with my parents."

He set the sack on the table and sat next to
her. "You're in Saint John. It's in Canada, not
Cornwall."

Heavens, was there some connection?
What a coincidence that both places were called St. John. How could
she be in Canada? All she knew of Canada was a wild, remote colony
of the Empire across the sea where bears and wild Indians roamed
free. Not possible. She shook her head to dismiss the
thoughts.

"I need to use the necessary. I need a bath. I
am hungry."

"Whoa, my lady, one thing at a
time."

"Stop calling me Lady. My name is
Catherine."

"I like Cathy. I assume the necessary is the
bathroom. Come with me."

He led her into a room to the left. He showed
her the toilet and how the strange contrivance worked. Mr. Indelli
stated he didn't have a tub, only a shower.
A shower?
He
turned knobs on and a clanging and banging noise came from the
walls. Finally, water spurted out of a protrusion above.

"You stand underneath the water and clean
yourself."

No tub?
She was mortified. "I am to be
cleaned like a horse in a barn?"

"I can help you."

Oh
. She felt her face flush as she
imagined Joey Indelli washing her naked body with his large,
masculine hands.

She cleared her throat. "I can manage, thank
you."

He handed her a bar of soap. "Don't be long,
the fish is getting cold. I'll put the food in the oven to keep it
warm. I'll get the clothes so you can change into them. You're
shivering. The water is nice and warm."

Mr. Indelli handed her the clothes then shut
the door. Catherine shuddered. She used the toilet contraption then
began to peel off the layers of clothes. They were still damp and
gooseflesh rose on her skin. She unfastened the tight knot behind
her head. Her hair dropped to mid-chest in length. He had showed
her a bottle and explained how to use the 'shampoo'. With a little
trepidation she stepped into the shower. The water held comforting
warmth. She closed her eyes and let the pounding jets soak her
skin. The warm water felt invigorating and the ache in her body
lessened. After washing her body with the bar of soap she reached
for the bottle and squeezed a green substance into her hand.
Catherine raised the liquid to her nose and inhaled. The shampoo
smelled like her mother's herb garden. She liked the aroma and
poured some into her hand, rubbed the lotion into her hair, and
lathered. Having enough, she turned the knobs as Mr. Indelli had
shown her and the water stopped flowing.
Astounding.

Water brought into the house and human waste
taken out, a simple concept. She must ask Mr. Indelli later where
the water came from. Catherine had so many questions. Drying
herself with the towel and reaching for the clothes, she gasped.
This shameful gown was hardly better than a chemise.

She held it up and eyed the dress with
curiosity. Not only was the dress sleeveless, the shocking garment
would barely cover her knees. A decent woman did not expose her
ankles, let alone her knees.

The colors were astonishing. A kaleidoscope of
bursting swirls of oranges, yellows, and turquoise made up the
design. She instinctively knew she must blend in. Catherine pulled
the dress over her head then reached for her silk under drawers and
stepped into them. Her body felt sinfully free. No corsets and
layers between her skin and the clothing. Her breasts jiggled as
she moved. How provocative and delicious. She opened the door and
stepped into Mr. Indelli's little parlor.

He looked up at her and his eyes widened.
"Jesus."

****

His cock hardened at the feminine vision
standing before him. Her hair was a deep golden blond, the shade of
honey. He loved long hair on a woman. The dress was too tight. His
former girlfriend tried to starve herself into the Twiggy shape.
One of the more shallow reasons he had dropped her. The dress
hugged Cathy's generous curves. Then he noticed she wasn't wearing
a bra.
Damn.
His cock snapped into one of the more
impressive erections he’d had lately. He didn't dare stand up.
Getting his runaway lust under control would be a
challenge.

"You look lovely."

Cathy hugged herself. "This is no better than
a chemise. Is this all the fashion? This piece of clothing is
indecent."

"I've seen women wear less. Don't freak out
and what in hell is a chemise?"

He patted the sofa next to him. She sighed and
sat down as far away from him as she could.

"It is an undergarment, Mr. Indelli." Cathy
ran her hands down her sides in what appeared to him to be a
leisurely and provocative if oblivious act. "Do you believe I am
from the past?" She asked, her tone matching the slow and
deliberate movement of her hands, but her eyes were wide and
questioning.

Joey didn't answer right away and he was
mesmerized at the unhurried motions and words. His cock grew
harder. He was almost convinced though. Her reactions to everything
around her were genuine and her mode of speech and language was
formal, probably the snotty British accent.

"Look, I guess I do, but maybe you read all
this once in a book and you hit your head and lost part of your
memory. You have recreated this fictional life in your mind." Joey
frowned. "But it doesn't explain the carriage. And don't call me
Mr. Indelli. It's Joey."

Cathy clapped her hands together in
excitement. "I might have proof!" She jumped up and ran to her
clothes, draped across one of the wooden chairs. She came back and
thrust a coin into his hand. "A gold guinea. I took the coin from
my father's study before I left. Look at the date."

Joey ran his thumb over the large coin. He
tossed and caught it in his hand. The guinea felt heavy like maybe
solid gold. The year on the coin read 1819. Over the years Joey had
come to rely on irrefutable proof. For all the talk of time travel
from physicists and scientists, for all their mathematical
theories, nothing had been proven. He had read that much. She did
appear out of thin air in a carriage. The proof was undeniable and
standing in front of him. He gazed up at her triumphant
face.

"Okay, so you're from 1821. I believe
it."

Cathy threw herself into his arms and landed
in his lap. He dropped the coin and encircled her body closer to
his. Her soft breasts pressed against his chest and a muffled moan
escaped from his throat. He had major wood happening.

She laid a couple of feather light kisses on
his cheeks. "Oh, Joey, I am so pleased you believe me!"

He nuzzled his face into her damp hair. He
inhaled herbs, soap and that faint lavender scent. She said his
name. A roar of pleasure rushed through him.

"Damn, I'd believe anything you told
me."

Cathy stiffened. Things were getting heated.
His prominent erection was firmly nestled between her ass cheeks.
She pushed at his chest and stood.

"Is the food ready?" Her voice
shook.

He stood. His leather pants were uncomfortably
tight. "Yeah. Sit at the table. I have our supper in the
oven."

Only she didn't sit. She followed him into his
small galley kitchen. "Oven? What generates the heat? I do not see
any wood."

Joey bit his bottom lip to keep from laughing.
He could make a dirty joke concerning wood but he knew she wouldn't
understand the subtleties.

"It's run by electricity."

He slipped on an oven mitt then bent down to
retrieve the fish and chips. He heard a soft exclamation leave her
lips. Was she checking out his ass?

"Electricity? Heavens, you will have to tell
me everything. I read in the London Times they have been doing
experiments in electromagnetism. When does this electricity become
available?"

Her voice sounded bright and excited. Joey
turned to face her. Cathy looked flushed and her gaze was
inquisitive. Her hair started to dry and the ends caressed her
breasts.

"I think the late 1800's, not sure. Come on,
grab those paper plates and let's eat."

They sat at his small, wobbly, table and Joey
scooped two pieces of fish and a pile of fries on her plate. She
sat and looked at the food in front of her and frowned.

"The fish is haddock rolled in a batter and
fried in hot oil. The fries are potatoes cut and also fried in hot
oil. You'll like it." He urged in a gentle tone.

"I have heard of pollock. Is it
similar?"

"Yes, only this is white and flaky. Go on,
Cathy. You have to eat." He passed her the Wonder bread. "Have some
bread. Do you want butter?"

She lowered her head. "Joey, I want to thank
you for taking me into your home and looking after me. You did not
have to do this. You are very chivalrous and I am deeply
grateful."

Her tone wasn't snooty and she sounded almost
humble. He reached across the table and with his finger lifted her
chin so she looked right at him.

"Babe, I don't have much but what I do have
I'll share. Now eat up like a good girl."

She blinked. Her eyes were glassy with a few
unshed tears. Joey felt his heart stutter in his chest.
Damn.
An overwhelming need to protect this woman shocked him
deep to his soul. The emotions rolling through him felt weird but
satisfying. He dropped his finger and shoved a piece of fish into
his mouth.

****

Catherine watched as Joey lowered his head to
the plate and began to eat rather quickly. Comforting warmth
covered her at his kind words. He looked so gruff, rough and harsh
at times.

Yet, she observed the kindness in his eyes and
felt his gentle touch. He seemed embarrassed by his show of
compassion. She lifted her fork and placed the fish in her
mouth.

"Joey, this is delicious!"

She speared a couple of the potato fries. The
'fish and chip' dish was very tasty. Catherine ate with enthusiasm
and helped herself to more bread. She had not realized she was so
famished. Marveling at the disposable plates, Joey explained
electricity ran the various mysterious mechanical objects in his
house. After they finished their meal, he showed her how to use the
toaster. She was amazed, no holding bread over a flame. A
refrigerator kept food items cold so there would be no spoiling,
though she observed Joey did not have much in this
'fridge'.

Another strange object was the television box.
Joey explained about color television but all he could afford was
this tiny, second-hand, black and white TV. She flushed at the
mention of his lack of money. In her time, wealth was not spoken of
so unreservedly. People knew their place and lines were not
crossed. In 1821 Catherine knew she would not have looked twice at
Joey Indelli or spoken to him. She would not have even acknowledged
his existence.