Across the Winds of Time (14 page)

“It would seem to be,” he murmured, “although I am not quite sure what that is. Another electrical device, I assume, which does exactly what it says? Heats water?”

I grinned and nodded. “I promise to get some things at the store today. Milk and what? What kind of chocolate do you want?”

Darius seemed gratified. The brightness of his smile reminded me of our close proximity the night before, and I struggled to subdue a blush—as if that were possible.

“Baker’s chocolate and some sugar will be sufficient,” he said.

“What else do you like to eat?” I aimed to please, certain I had much to make up for in having abandoned him.

“Well, let me think,” he said as he placed his elbows on the table and rested his chin on one fist. His eyes sparkled playfully. “Ice cream and pumpkin pie and roasted corn and apples.”

“Oh, sure.” I rolled my eyes. “What else?”

“Truly?” Darius widened his eyes. “Will you be making the pie? Because I warn you, I am very handy with a cup of hot chocolate, but I do not bake.” He put out his hands as if to ward off evil.

“Neither do I. Someone at the store does, I’m sure.”

“Ah! Baked goods from the market. Yes, indeed, the oat and fruit bars. Very modern.”

“Very convenient,” I murmured with a chuckle. I checked my watch. Fifteen minutes.

“I’ll try to head Laura and Cynthia off before they get out of their car.”

“Or I could meet them?” He waggled his eyebrows.

“Not likely. They’ve seen your photograph. They know what you look like.”

“Is that so? There is a photograph of me about?” He pretended to look around.

I colored.

“Um...yes. Somewhere. I saw it yesterday. It was in a box of family photos. Laura and Cynthia took the boxes with them.” I was careful not to lie, but I didn’t want him to know that I had stored the treasured photograph in the nightstand by my bed.

“I was thinking...” I changed the subject. “I’m going to need to buy you a few things—some clothing, I think. You can’t run around in that suit all the time. Can you?”

He looked down at his suit. “Well, it
is
a fine suit, but a little impractical for making repairs to the house. And I will need some supplies from the hardware store to begin the renovation. I will prepare a list while you are gone.”

“There’s no rush about that, is there?” Suddenly agitated, I jumped up to take my cup to the sink and kept my back to him.

“If you want to be comfortable here in the house, there is.” His voice came from directly behind me. He had risen when I did and stood only inches from me—so close I was certain I felt the warmth emanating from his body.

“What is wrong, Molly? Do you truly believe I am not competent enough to repair the house?”

I pivoted to face him.

“Oh, no, not that! Oh, no. I know how competent you are. Just look at this beautiful house.”

I looked up at his face, only inches above mine.

“Then what is it, my dear?”

I repressed a shiver of delight at the endearment. “It’s just...” I swallowed hard. “It’s just... What if you disappear—when you finish the house?” I met his gaze, mesmerized by the tiny gold flecks in the blue—the same gold that highlighted his chestnut hair. “What if you’re here to do just that? Fix the house, and when it’s done—you vanish?”

I didn’t realize that I had grabbed his shirt until I felt the warmth of his hands over mine.

“I am not going anywhere—if I can help it, Molly. I am staying with you—no matter what.” He paused. A muscle worked in his jaw. “I have loved you since you were twenty-five years old, and although you may not remember our love, I do. It was sweet and lovely and full of laughter. You will love me again someday. I can be patient.”

He bent his head close to my ear, and I melted against him.

“I will always love you,” he whispered.

His tender words brought a sudden anguish such as I’d never known. A pain knifed through my shoulder, and I gasped and grabbed the spot.

“What is it, Molly?”

“I don’t know. Pain. Here.” I pulled my hand away to rub a sore spot just below my left clavicle. “Pain and a feeling of...grief.” I shook my head in confusion.

Darius opened his mouth to speak, then pressed his lips together. I searched his face.

“What?”

“I feared this might happen. You might be remembering—”

A knock on the door startled us both, and I gasped and pushed him away.

“Go! Hide! Do something. Go!”

Darius stepped back and scanned the room. His gaze paused on the kitchen door.

“I will go outside into the yard and around to the shed in back—until you leave.”

“Okay, go, go.” I shooed him out the kitchen door at the far side of the house, and ran to the front door. My shoulder still ached for some unknown reason, but not as badly as it had. I threw a quick look over my shoulder before I pulled open the door with a broad smile plastered on my face.

“Good morning, ladies. I was going to meet you at your car so you didn’t have to come all the way up the porch.”

“Good morning, Molly,” Laura said. Dressed in a white sweatshirt with poodles on the front and a loose pair of jeans, she looked much younger than she had the day before in her dark “I’m going to the cemetery” clothing.

I looked past her.

“It’s just me,” Laura continued. “I left Cynthia in the car. No sense dragging that walker of hers around more than we have to. Are you ready?” She stood back and appraised me frankly. “You look so rosy-cheeked this morning. Iowa air seems to be doing you a lot of good.”

I was fairly certain my cheeks had just gotten much rosier.

“I’ll just grab my purse, and we can go,” I said as I dashed over to the coffee table and grabbed my bag. I noted with distress that Darius’s pillow and blanket were folded neatly at the end of the couch. A quick check over my shoulder in Laura’s direction revealed she had turned away to return to the car. I threw a longing glance toward the kitchen and turned with a sigh to hurry after Laura.

To my consternation, the ladies had decided to make a day of it. As grateful as I was for their help, I chafed to get back to the house—back to Darius. Please, please, let him still be there.

Our first stop was at the local post office—a tiny gray building serviced by one person—the postmistress—Martha Banks. Her rural route carrier, who just happened to be her husband, Jim Banks, was out delivering mail, she said, and she was pleased to welcome me to town. I warmed to the affable older woman immediately and waited politely while Cynthia, Laura and Martha—obviously school chums—discussed the merits of forwarding mail to Florida.

We moved on to Nesbitt’s Hardware, a small store in an old two-story brick building on what might have passed for the main street a hundred years ago. In fact, the street was named Main Street. Several small businesses remained in the sadly run down turn-of-the-century brick buildings, and I wondered why the town had not thrived. The construction of what were once beautiful commercial buildings indicated high hopes for prosperity at one time in Lilium.

“So, how did this town come to be?” I asked as we descended from the car at the hardware store.

“Oh, gosh, I don’t know,” Cynthia murmured. “It’s mostly farmers around here. Our great-grandfather was some sort of scholar back in Virginia. Then he moved out here to take the house over when his brother died...or disappeared or whatever he did. Anyway, I guess our great-grandfather took up farming. I don’t think he did very well at it though.” Cynthia chuckled. “At least, that’s what my mom said. My dad taught at the local school—pretty much a one-room schoolhouse when we were kids.”

I alerted at the mention of Darius and cringed at Cynthia’s use of the word “died.”

“You say your great-grandfather’s brother disappeared? That’s Darius, the builder of the house, right? Did he die or disappear?” I couldn’t help myself. I had to ask.

Cynthia paused and turned to Laura. I held my breath.

“Laura, what was the story, do you remember? Did Mom say he died or disappeared, which was it?”

Laura, her hand on the doorknob of the faded but sturdy appearing oak door at the store’s entrance, turned back with a shrug.

“Well, it seems obvious he died at some point, right? But I think there was a rumor he disappeared. Or maybe he just moved away. I can’t remember much more about it.”

I mumbled something innocuous, hoping they weren’t making too much of my continuing obsession with Darius. I was determined to ask him the moment we returned if he’d “disappeared” or “moved away.” I couldn’t bear to ask him if he’d died. He seemed as confused as I about his existence in the present time. I could not wait to return to the house...to Darius...and every moment that I was apart from him seemed a terrible waste of the time we had together.

I did my best to swallow my anxiety as I followed the ladies into the store. A bell rang overhead, and the musty smell of the old building hit me in full force—something I was managing to rid the house of by keeping the windows open as much as possible.

“Molly, this is Bob Nesbitt. If you need any tools or light bulbs or anything, he’s your man.” Laura led me toward a stout man with who bent over a display of seed packets. Tools and implements abounded on dark-stained, albeit heavily scratched, wooden shelves that had seen better days. No modern steel shelving for this older merchant. He wiped his hands on a well-worn, faded green apron and nodded.

“Good to meet you, Molly. So, you bought the old Ferguson place.” Puffy pale blue eyes regarded me with skepticism. “Good luck. That’s going to take a lot of work.” He hooked his hands on the front tie of his apron as if it were a gun belt and nodded pleasantly. No single hair of his Marine-style crew cut moved with the motion.

I stiffened, instantly on the defensive.

“I’ve already got an electrician and plumber on the way to upgrade the wiring and water systems. And I’ve had a new hot water heater installed.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Well, I hope they’re able to make a go of it. These old places...” He shrugged with a grimace. “Sometimes, it’s just easier to demolish them and start over.”

“Now, now, Bob. We just sold her the house. Don’t scare her off. It can be modernized.” Laura’s words were almost drowned out by my heated rebuff.

“I would
never
tear that house down.
Never
!”

At the unanimously startled expressions of my companions, I bit my bottom lip and lowered my head.

“Of course not, dear. It’s a lovely house. Bob has been teasing us about the house for years. He’s just making fun, aren’t you, Bob?” Cynthia patted my arm, as one might attempt to calm a snapping dog.

“Well, not really, ladies, but I certainly wouldn’t come between a homeowner and her dreams—not if I want to sell her a few things.” An unrepentant Bob chuckled and winked. I relented and gave him an answering smile as I swelled with pride.

“I’ve already got a guy lined up to take care of the repairs, and I’ll need to order some things from you shortly.” As soon as the foolishly boastful words were out, I wished I’d kept my mouth shut.

Bob cocked an eyebrow, and both Laura and Cynthia swung their heads in my direction.

“Oh, really, anyone I know? What’s his name? I know most of the construction guys around here,” Bob asked with interest.

“You didn’t tell us, dear,” Cynthia said with a wide smile. “How wonderful. Is he a local boy?”

I blinked rapidly and literally sidestepped as I shuffled my feet in dismay.

“Oh, well, he’s...” I focused on a small dust bunny on the wooden floor under the edge of one of the shelves. “Yes, he’s local. Well, I found his name in the paper. That is...he comes recommended.”

“Really? What’s his name?” Bob pressed home, hopefully never suspecting how much I wanted to kick him in the shin.

“Oh, uh...I wrote it down at home.”

“Is it that Stevens fellow, dear?” Cynthia asked. “Because he’s just a local handyman, and I’m not sure he’s up to a major renovation project.”

“No, no. His name is Dar—Darren Fergland, and I think he’s out of Council Bluffs. So...he’s kind of local.”

“Well, good for you, Molly! I’m impressed by how much you’ve accomplished already,” Laura said with an approving nod.

I shot her a grateful glance and hoped the conversation was over.

“Can’t say as I’ve heard of him. Well, you make sure he’s got a contractor’s license, and that he’s bonded. I’m sure you already checked into that.” Bob shot me a warning look.

“Oh, sure,” I murmured. I moved over to study a shelf as if nuts and bolts were the most interesting things in the world.

Laura and Cynthia exchanged a few words with Bob and pronounced themselves ready to move on.

Bob grabbed the knob of the heavy, old oak door and hauled it open for us. The tiny bell accompanied his words.

“Don’t forget to get me a list of what you need. I may not have it here in the store, but I can get it delivered in for you in two days or so.”

He nodded pleasantly, and I smiled and escaped out the door, hoping the subject of renovations was closed for the day.

“Well, where to next, Sis?” Laura put the car in reverse and waited for Cynthia’s instructions.

“I think we should have some lunch, don’t you, Molly?”

I confessed to some hunger pains. I worried that Darius would be hungry, but could think of no way to announce to the sisters that I couldn’t eat unless my ghost could eat as well. The best I’d been able to do for Darius was leave the box of oat bars out for him along with a container of crackers. Better than cat food, I thought with a wry grin. What sorts of things was he used to eating in the 1800s?

What I really needed to do was find some time alone so I could get on the Internet and figure out what to do with a ghost from the nineteenth century. Food, clothes, beverages, hot water, cold water, toiletry supplies. Entertainment? What did he need?

Laura drove a half-hour to the larger town of Missouri Valley where we had luncheon in a nice, homey café that could have used some modernization as well. The blue vinyl on the benches of the booth showed unrepaired cracks, the laminate tables were chipped with corrosion evident on the metal banding around the edges, and the creased and bent blinds had not been replaced in years. The food was delicious, however. I imagined myself ordering a sandwich to go and arriving triumphantly at the house with food in hand...like a good little provider. I looked across the table at Darius’s great-grand nieces. Nope. That wasn’t going to happen. As fussy as he had been the night before about the hot chocolate, I wasn’t certain about his taste buds.