Dreamscape (15 page)

She rolled in her sleep, her luxurious hair fanning out across her pillow. The sheet had slipped off, and her breasts lay bare, their rose-tinted nipples soft and inviting. What he wouldn’t give to have her for his own, to love her. He sighed. He did love her. And, damn him, there was no future in it. He was dead. The thought came to him then. They did have the past. As long as she dreamed of his time he could love her there. Pouring his essence into her synapses, he told her softly, “Dream of me, love.”

Chapter 15

Lanie’s travels that day had precluded any opportunity for meals, and she vowed not to make the same mistake twice. It was all she could do to keep from gobbling down the tasty fare like a pig at a trough.

Richard Mason was a charming, attentive man with the softest Southern accent. He picked up the serving bowl and offered, “Miss O’Keefe, would you care for more peas?”

“Yes, please.”

He spooned a helping and carefully set them on her plate. “There is nothing so fine as sweet peas from the vine,” he told her with a wink.

Directly across from them, Bertha brayed, “That’s exactly what Papa used to say! Remember, Cathy?” Exaggerating, she took on a deeper inflection, “There is nothing so fine as sweet peas from the vine.”

“Yes, I do.” Cathy laughed lightly. Turning to the man sitting beside her she said, “I’d love some more peas too, Richard.” Cathy smiled prettily.

Seeing the false smile for what it was, Jason could tell Richard’s attention to Lanie was getting on her nerves, hence the request he serve her as well.

“Of course, Nettie.” He served her as well.

“Nettie? I’ve never heard that name for you before, my dear,” Jason told her.
Let us hear how you barely know him again.

“Oh.” Bertha jumped as if she’d been kicked under the table. “Papa used to call Cathy that little endearment, didn’t he, Richard?” She looked to her brother to corroborate.

Richard’s eyes twinkled in the candlelight. “Yes, our father had affectionate names for the lot of us.”

“Do tell,” Jason replied, taking a sip from his water glass.

Before either sibling could answer, Cathy said to Lanie, “Miss O’Keefe, I’m sure your father had such an appellation for you.”

Lanie nodded. “He did.”

Bertha chortled. “Oh,
do
tell us.”

“From my earliest memory, he called me Lanie.”

“Why, isn’t that sweet?” Cathy said.

“An adorable name, wouldn’t you say, Jason?” Richard lifted his brow.

“Undeniably so,” Jason agreed. Having seen the emotional stress the attack had caused, he was well aware of her body’s silent language. She was grieving and didn’t need to put up with these callous animals a moment longer. He rose from his chair. “Miss O’Keefe, would you like to take our business into the study?”

Bertha didn’t want Jason to leave, she said, “Oh, give
Lanie
time to finish eating, Jason.” The little squeak that followed suggested Bertha had been kicked again.

“No, it’s all right. I am finished,” Lanie told her quickly, jumping at the chance to leave the table. Thinking of her father was making her very sad, and she was afraid she’d start to cry in front of her dinner companions. To Cathy she added, “The meal was lovely, thank you.” Then turning to Jason, she said, “Yes, I would like to discuss my father’s holdings now. I need only get my bag if you have the time now.”

“I have all the time in the world. I’m sure my wife and her dear cousins have much to discuss without my being here as a third wheel to their conversation.” Yes, they had the plotting of his murder to do. By his estimation they had a little less than three weeks to do the deed.

Lanie rose from her chair, and, with the impeccable manners of the old south, so did Richard. “Miss O’Keefe, I do hope you’ll join us for cards later.”

Lanie only gave him a polite smile.

“Richard, we shouldn’t place undue pressures on Miss O’Keefe. Her business with my husband may go long into the night,” Cathy said, her voice pleasant but her eyes shooting daggers.

Richard smiled and bowed his head.

“It may indeed.” Jason took Lanie’s arm. “If you’ll excuse us.”

“Thank you again,” Lanie told her hostess.

“My pleasure,” Cathy replied but somehow the seeming sincerity of her words missed her eyes.

Closing the study door behind him he said, “No one will disturb us now.” He pulled another handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to her.

“Thank you. It was that obvious then?” She dabbed her eyes.

“Just a bit.” Jason smiled gently. There wasn’t an expression or attitude of hers he hadn’t memorized in her time. He told her, “I know your grief is new, and perhaps there are more tears to let. I’ve a strong shoulder to cry on if you have need, Lanie.” Taking a seat, Jason patted the sofa beside him.

She sniffed and sat without hesitation. Within seconds the large, silent tears began to fall.

He drew her into his arms in an attempt to bring her comfort. Her soft sobs tearing at his heart, his hand swept up and down her back. “That’s right, let it out. Don’t bottle your grief inside.”

Surrounded by the comfort Lanie desperately needed, several moments passed before his warm steady heartbeat allowed her to regain her composure. It felt so good to held by him she was loathe to end it. She moved to straighten, but he still held her. Staying only a moment longer, she eventually sat up. As good as it felt to be held, she couldn’t forget he was a married man. “Thank you for that. I apologize for losing myself.”

Jason took the handkerchief and dabbed her tears. Her nose and lips were very pink, and he found himself wanting to kiss her badly. Handing it back to her he said, “I would like to be your friend, Lanie, and as such, please never hesitate to come to me for any reason.”

Lanie looked up and, finding his odd whiskey-colored eyes familiar, smiled shyly. “I would love a friend. I have very few actually.”

Reluctantly he rose and rang the housekeeper’s bell.

Addy appeared at the door nearly as fast as a genie from a bottle. “Yes, Doctor?”

“Addy, be a dear and bring two sherries, please.”

She peered around him and saw the young miss had been crying. She told him, “Right away, Doctor,” and hurried from the room.

Jason smiled inside. Oh, how he’d missed that woman. Having been dead all these years, it was so good to see her. Addy had worked for his family since he was a small child. In that time, she called him
Jacy
until he was in pants. She went with him to live at his Aunt’s home when his mother passed away, and there she’d called him the
young sir
. Then it was
Master Jason
when he went off to school and
Doctor
ever since. The last, God love her, was always said with a hint of pride. She still wore the silver broach his father had given her when he returned from the war. It was his mother’s, and not a day went by when she didn’t wear it. He wondered then if she still kept licorice in her apron pocket.

She returned a moment later with a tray, a decanter, and two short, diamond-cut sherry glasses.

“I’ve brought a cool cloth for you, miss,” adding in a whisper, “Soothing to the eyes.”

Lanie smiled gratefully. “Thank you, Addy.”

“No trouble at all, miss. The Doctor would have sent me back for the cloth...”

“You always anticipate me.” Jason handed Lanie a full glass and took the other for himself.

“Is there anything else I can get for either of you?”

Lanie nodded. “My bag sits on the lower shelf of the hall tree. Would you mind bringing it in, please?”

“Not at all, miss.” Addy returned a moment later with Lanie’s bag of ledgers and papers. She’d seen just how her Jacy looked at the pretty young woman. Yes, Lanie O’Keefe was suited to him far better than the viper in the other room. Then and there Addy made up her mind. If there was a way to allow them privacy, she’d see to it.

When she’d left again, Jason said, “How I’ve missed that woman.”

Lanie dabbed at her eyes with the cold damp cloth. “Have you been away?”

The fact he was alive in his own time with her at his side was all the better. “I have, for a very long time. And it’s good to be home.”

He didn’t offer more, and Lanie didn’t ask. They made small talk while they sipped their sherry, and the vague sense of familiarity from earlier began to clarify. She had the distinct impression she knew him well, though she could hardly credit how.

Rummaging through the ledgers, she pulled a small neat stack from the carpet bag. “There are two main businesses, a textile factory and a small millinery shop that sells the textiles. As I mentioned earlier, the factory makes mostly ribbons and broadcloth.”

“And those?” He motioned to the assorted papers tied together with string.

“These are the lesser holdings—a tobacco shop in Raleigh, a small silk stocking business in Allentown, and a chandlery in Philadelphia. I’m thinking the chandlery should be sold first, as that was my father’s plan. He mentioned it wasn’t doing well because relying upon candles to light a home is a thing of the past.”

Jason nodded. Indeed, oil lamps were more common and sootless gas lighting would gain popularity. He saw for himself how both came to be obsolete shortly after the turn of the century. The future was waiting on Mr. Edison’s invention, and in this time the man had no idea the changes he would wreak. The difference one hundred and twenty years made to technology was staggering. Looking over the paperwork for the chandlery, he agreed it was a snag that should be cut loose. He told her, “Yes, you’re wise to pull out of this one.”

“I’d like to trim my father’s holdings to the easiest to manage. Take the tobacco shop in Raleigh for example. It took me nine hours to get there by train.” She shook her head. “I’d rather limit any excess travel. I’ve a medical practice you see. Is trimming that investment a poor decision on my part?”

That she was a physician in this life as well didn’t surprise him, as rare as it was. Lanie was an accomplished professional in her time. Having watched her suture a worker’s leg with the practiced hand of a seamstress the other day, he knew he couldn’t have done better himself. He looked at those delicate yet capable hands folded in her lap, and his mind wandered to what it might feel like to have her caress him. He found every fiber of his being hungry for it.

 She turned the page to show the details written in the ledger. When he didn’t reply, she looked up and noticed that he appeared lost in thought. “
Jason?
Do you think eliminating the tobacco shop is a poor decision?”

The question brought him around. “I’m sorry…”

She repeated her question.

“No, not at all. Eventually such travel would impinge on your practice. You’d lose patients were you to become unavailable when you’re needed.”

“Yes, of that I have no doubt.” Her hands began to worry the fabric of her skirt. “I’m thinking perhaps it best to sell it all.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Why is that? Surely a few of these holdings are close to home. Let me see…”

Leafing through the stack to be sure, he found the textile mill and the millinery shop in close proximity to one another, making both easy to oversee and draw income from. “Yes, these two, the millinery and the mill, are less than three blocks apart.”

She pulled a large cardboard ledger from the carpetbag and handed it to him.

When he opened it to the last month’s entries, she placed a finger on the middle column. “See here? There appears to be an increase in machinery breaking down since my father passed away. I find I’m at a loss as to what to do. I see no other recourse than to sell to a more competent businessman. As you are the major shareholder, I was hoping you’d be interested in buying. This was my father’s…” Her throat got tight, but she went on to explain how her father and his older brother had been all that remained of the O’Keefe family in Ireland, the rest having died in the famine. “They landed penniless with nothing but their hands and backs between them, but worked hard and eventually became men of means. The Restoration was in full swing at the time, and they convinced enough investors to build their factory, your father among them. When Uncle Seamus died, my father turned his brother’s portion of the earnings into the millinery shop.” The prospect of selling either made her feel terrible inside. She swallowed. “That my father came to this country with nothing, it seems a poor tribute to sell it all away. But you’re experienced in matters of business. Under your guidance the mill and the shop may thrive.”

The weight of the issue reflected in her bright blue eyes. Jason refilled her glass and said, “Lanie, as we share several investments, I’m more than happy to help oversee your holdings but I sense there’s more to this story.”

Feeling tears coming on, she took a large sip.

He told her gently, “Please, let me help you.”

Lanie sniffed, her emotion desperately trying to get the better of her. “I’ve tried to deal with the problems via telegraph, but I believe Mr. Paxton takes issue with a woman at the helm now.”