Whispers from the Past (20 page)

Her nose wrinkled. “Will you deny to the press that we’re a couple?”

“I won’t comment either way.”

“Will you take me to prom?”

This felt weird, like negotiating a business transaction. “Sure.”

“Then it’s all good.” She slid her arms around my waist and hugged me. After an awkward moment, I hugged her back.

She leaned back in my embrace. “It’s a deal, and our first date begins tonight.”

“It’s
not
a first date.”

“Okay, then. Our first couple event. Come on.”

I followed her downstairs to the home theater. I’d been in here once before, but Jesse and Benita had been with us. This felt weird.

I needed to chill. Susanna broke up with me. She’d told me to move on. I wasn’t cheating on her. Hell, I was just calling an old relationship by a new name.

Gabrielle dropped onto the center of a plush loveseat, kicked off her shoes, and curled her feet under her. I sat down, wedged between her and the end of the loveseat.

“What are we watching?” I asked.

“
Dirty Dancing
.”

I swallowed a groan. Chick flick. Wouldn’t have been my choice, but okay. This was her house.

Gabrielle did not sit still during the movie. She bounced. Gasped. Grabbed my knee.

Okay, it was more than grabbing my knee. She had her whole arm leaning on my thigh.

There it was again—like the night at the Kennedy Center. That natural feeling of knowing how to act. Modern couples had things they did, things they said, things they were. I’d missed all of that with Susanna. The compromises we’d made for a twenty-first-century courtship had satisfied neither of us.

When it was over, Gabrielle flicked off the screen and relaxed into the loveseat.

“That was great.” She rolled her head toward me. “How many times have you seen
Dirty Dancing
?

“That would be the first.”

“What?” She blinked at me in disbelief. “You’ve
never
seen it before?”

“Nope. When it comes to old movies, I’m more of an
X-Men
kind of guy.”

“Figures.” She laughed. “You know what? I’d kill to get my hands on a script like
Dirty Dancing
. Romance. Believable conflict. Dance.”

Wow. I was hanging out with a girl who talked about getting her hands on a script—and meant it.

She turned sideways on the loveseat and studied me intently. “Do you always think of me as an actor? Or do you ever see me as ordinary?”

I smiled. “You will never be ordinary.”

Her gaze dropped to my mouth. A faint buzz spiraled in my gut. Did she want to kiss me?

It wasn’t what I wanted, but I was curious about what it meant to her in a detached sort of way. Did she kiss like an actor or like someone ordinary?

I stood, my movements jerky. Kissing was a typical next step for a normal “couple.” I understood the pattern. I just wasn’t interested. “I think I’ll go home.”

She stood too, crossing her arms. “What were you about to say?”

It would be rude to say that I didn’t want to kiss her. What else could I say? “Do actors practice kissing?”

She studied me for a long moment before looking away. “Yes, on-screen kisses are completely planned. Nothing left to chance.”

“Like what?”

“Where the noses have to go. Whose face is tilted toward the camera. Who’s running the show. Tongue or not. How wet or noisy.”

“Got it.”

She frowned. “It kind of kills the mood.”

“I can imagine.” Probably like sword fights. They had to be choreographed with some type of sword-master. Maybe they had lip-masters too. “Was your first kiss on camera?”

“Yeah.”

“How old were you?”

“Fourteen.”

“How old was the other person?”

“Twenty.” She paced across the front of the room. I stood still, not sure what was going on.

“It’s acting, Mark. It’s like…a car chase or a death scene. We perform what it says in the script. There’s no lasting emotion.” She stopped suddenly and spun to face me. “It’s a thing we do. No feeling.”

“I understand.”

“No, I don’t think you do.” She launched herself at me, locked her arms around my neck, and jerked my head down to meet her lips.

Well, hello. I dropped my hands to her waist. She strained up and kissed harder. Her mouth tasted like mint.

A few seconds passed before she drew back and stared up at me, eyes narrowed. “That was a
real
kiss.”

I was glad I hadn’t said anything, because I’d been about to ask which kind of kiss this one was. It showed expertise, but I couldn’t tell how much had been acting and how much had been feeling on her part.

As for me, it’d been odd. A pleasant, well-executed physical experience. There hadn’t been the magic I’d shared with Susanna, but then, I wouldn’t expect that to be true. Ever again.

C
HAPTER
T
WENTY
-F
IVE

E
LOQUENCE AND
L
OGIC

Monday found me out of the apartment soon after dawn and biking through Umstead Park. My skills had improved greatly, for I felt only confidence as I rode along trails in the faint light of early morning.

My diligence was rewarded when I arrived at the waterfall. There was a pale glimmer visible from the back of the cave. I snatched the folded note from its hiding place and jumped back through time with no hesitation.

I couldn’t wait another second to read her response to my plea.

I drew out a letter I had written in the apartment and read it a second time, in light of her willingness to help.

My letter filled its purpose nicely. All I had to add at its end was a statement of deep gratitude.

I folded the note, dashed through the falls, and placed it in the crevice we had used so many times to exchange our messages. Hesitating at the entrance to the cave, I peered into the morning of a beautiful day in 1805, listening to the creatures of the forest. They were content. No agitation that suggested the presence of humans walking along the footpaths.

I stepped into the sun, breathed in the sweetness of the day, and crossed two centuries, filled with hope.

That evening, I drafted the petition on the computer, printed it out, and then copied it onto parchment paper with meticulous care.

Next came the letter to Mrs. Eton, asking her to intercede with her husband to help me with the case. He was both a lawyer and a state senator. His place at my side in court would doubtless make the judges more receptive to my petition.

I would find some way to afford his fee, whatever that might be.

After sealing the documents with a bit of wax, I secured them in a small backpack. I would carry these documents with me everywhere until I turned them over to Dorcas.

The first two days yielded no response. I tried not to fret.

My work shift ended later on Thursday than I expected, forcing me to ride to the waterfall nearer to dusk than I liked—with rain threatening on the horizon.

As I passed near the new neighborhood bordering Umstead, I could see enormous yellow machines in the distance, growling as they pushed and gouged the land. The thinning of the trees distressed me greatly.

Averting my face, I passed by. I did not wish to witness the changes.

I secured my bike to a tree and walked down the dirt trail. Whisper Falls glimmered weakly. “Do you know your fate?” I asked as it permitted my hand and camera to move through time.

I drew my hand back and studied the images from the other side. The water was strong enough, but there was nothing to see along the creek or in the cave. My note was gone, but there was not another in its place. Of course not. It would take time for Dorcas to speak with her sister.

My shoulders drooped. I had wished that today there would be progress. That we could proceed at my preferred pace. The calendar moved ever closer toward the April session. Would there be enough time to petition? Would Dorcas be allowed to carry my letters? Or must I risk returning now, to turn in my petition and hide until the day of court?

On the Worthville side of the waterfall came a voice, singing softly but clearly. I strained to see through the narrow window of the waterfall.

Someone was moving along the creek. The singing grew louder.

I stepped back, moving from the rock to the bike trail. Previous experience had taught me that no one could see through the falls except Mark and me. Yet I couldn’t fight my need to hide.

When my heart slowed its wild beating, I focused on the voice and realized that it was familiar.

Dorcas had come.

If I traveled through the falls, we could speak. I could hand her the documents and answer the questions she might have. I wouldn’t have to wait for a letter to tell me when to meet her.

Dare I?

I was dressed inappropriately for her world, and night would overcome me quickly.

I was being foolish to doubt my desire. This was Dorcas. I longed to see her, hold her, speak to her. How could I deny myself the pleasure of being with her when she was so close?

It would not be safe for either of us to stay, but the temptation to see her was too great. I leapt through.

She spun about as my feet landed on the wet rock behind her. Her eyes, wide with shock, quickly changed to joy.

I reached for her and drew her into my eager arms. “It is so lovely to see you.”

She tipped her head back to smile. “I have waited many years to see you again. I knew that I would.”

We laughed and hugged. I marveled at the feel of her slender form. She was my height and had a woman’s body. “You have grown into a stunning beauty.”

“Thank you.” She studied my face, biting her lips in bewilderment. “I must say that time has been most kind to you. No one would ever know that you are nine years my senior.”

“I shall thank you, then.” I hurried to change the subject, not willing to address my seeming agelessness. “Have you been followed?”

“No. Papa has never worried that I meet a secret beau.”

“Does he wonder if I might return?”

“That, I do not know.” She bit her lip as she considered. “He has not spoken your name since my…”

“Injury?”

She nodded. Taking a step back, she eyed my attire with confusion. “Why are you dressed this way? A bare head? And trousers?”

It was most unfortunate that she had observed my uniform, but it couldn’t be helped. “In my new home, women often go without caps, and we may, on occasion, wear trousers.”

She frowned at my overalls. “They cling to your body in a most improper way. Do you intend to wear such to court?”

“I do not,” I said, giving a gentle shake of my head. “Now tell me, please. Will you take the petition?”

“Yes. I shall travel to Raleigh with Deborah and Aaron. Their next trip will be April eighth, but it is only for the day. Aaron has but a small shipment to collect this time.”

“It should not take more.” I handed the documents to her with shaking hands, hardly able to believe my good fortune. “You must give them to Mrs. Eton directly and await her answer.”

Dorcas eyed the packet of papers with curiosity, before wrapping them in the folds of her shawl. “What if she refuses the request?”

I had not wished to ponder that possibility, but of course I should. Mrs. Eton might be sympathetic to my cause, but her husband would need to agree as well. If the Etons did not help me, then I would have to send the petition to court another way, and it would be inappropriate for Dorcas to deliver it personally. “Perhaps you could try the postmaster.”

She nodded. “I shall enjoy the subterfuge immensely.”