Whisper Falls (40 page)

No one had asked this question with such eager anticipation since I was a little girl.

“I should like that very much.”

For the next hour, we sat on the deck while she brushed my hair with soothing strokes and talked to me of gardens. While we were still engrossed, Mark and Charlie came out, watched us for a moment, and then wandered together into the darkness of the yard. They didn't stray far, for I heard voices among the trees and the snap of branches.

“Susanna, you've been trying to hide your yawns. I think we should get you to bed.”

“Do not be offended, please. I am deeply grateful for all you have done.” I watched her reaction earnestly.

“No, hon, I'm the one who should apologize. You've had a traumatic day. You need to rest.” She stood. “Come on.”

She led me into the house and up a narrow staircase against the far wall. At the top was a simple space overlooking the front wall of the house with its huge fireplace. This tiny, open room held a chair, a table, and a low, backless couch.

She pointed to a door at one side. “The guest bedroom is in there. You'll have peace and quiet.”

I nodded.

“Mark?” she called over the railing.

He appeared below and looked up. “Yes, Gran?”

“I'll help Susanna get ready for bed. Sleep in the loft tonight, so you can hear her if she needs you.”

It didn't take long. Norah handed me a garment she called a “granny gown.” It was beautiful—pale, silky, and trimmed with lace. Once I had it on, I was under the covers in no time. As she exited the room, her fingers tapped a white square, shutting off the lights. I flinched at the abrupt darkness and wondered if I would ever stop preferring the soft glow of candles.

Mark appeared in the open doorway a minute later, his body a silhouette against the light from the ground floor.

“Tired?”

“Indeed.” I lay stiffly in Norah's nightgown, quilts pulled up to my chin, head cradled in the thickest pillow I had ever seen on a bed.

“How has your day been?”

I smiled as best I could. “Your grandparents have been gracious. I am most grateful.”

He shook his head. “I didn't ask about them. I asked about you.”

“I should have liked to spend the whole evening holding your hand.” I blushed at the boldness of my statement. This new world had already begun a stealthy reshaping of me.

“Me, too.” He stepped into the room and stood by the bed, leaning over to press his lips to mine. “I'll be right outside your door all night long. If you need anything, just call.”

“I shall.”

“Anything at all.” He straightened and then returned to the doorway. “I mean it, Susanna. Just say you need me, and I'll be here.”

“I shall remember.”

* * *

I slept fitfully at first. When the tossing and turning awakened me again, I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, listening for sounds of movement, but the house remained still. I glanced at the clock, with its numbers glowing red in the dim room. When had clocks lost their hands? They had become easy to read in this century and could be found everywhere—relentless reminders of the passage of time. Their precision alarmed me. I didn't wish to measure minutes so carefully.

It was after midnight.

Mark's grandparents slept on the ground floor in a large chamber with its own bathroom. Directly above them were my room, the loft, and another small room with a narrow bed. There were four people in this house and four bedchambers. So much space for so few people.

I rolled over. The bed was big enough for three, yet I had it all to myself. It was thickly cushioned and smelled like a flower garden. I hugged the edge and smoothed my hand along the sheets. They felt like silk.

I had never been so uncomfortable in my life.

The lake house was cold. I lay under a blanket. A warm blanket in a cold house in the middle of summer.

The house hummed. I couldn't hear insects chirping or coyotes howling or the clicking of tree branches in the wind. Only the hum of a cold house.

What had I done? Why had I come here?

My mind revisited the events of the day. How could it be that barely twelve hours ago I had lived in a different place and a different century?

Why hadn't the townspeople tried to follow me across the creek? They wouldn't have found me there, but they couldn't have known that.

Might they believe I had been swept away by the current like my father?

Had the Pratts punished Dorcas?

When would Phoebe learn that I had disappeared? If only I could have left her a letter.

The sheet grew wet beneath my cheek. I was afraid to be here, yet I did wish to live. Why had I been faced with such a choice?

I crammed my fist into my mouth. I did not wish to be alone.

A muffled cry awakened me, a sad whimper lingering in the stillness of the loft. I sprang from the sofa bed. Had I really fallen asleep in my clothes?

I crossed to the guest room door and listened.

There it was again.

“Susanna?”

Her words cut through the darkness. “I need you.”

Damn. Of course she did. I crawled onto the bed behind her and cradled her in my arms. She turned to face me. She had wet eyes, and she was shaking.

“Please, hold me.”

“I'll be here as long as you want.”

“Thank you, Mark.” She nodded, her eyes studying me in the faint light. “Were you asleep?”

“Yeah, but I'm glad you woke me up.”

Shivers rippled through her, wave after wave. She inhaled and exhaled through her mouth. I tucked the covers around her, slid my hand from her shoulder to her back, and rested my head near hers on the pillow.

Was this too much? Too little? I didn't know for sure and hoped that she would be brave enough to correct me if I was wrong.

Her breaths slowed from puffs to normal. The shivers faded to nothing. Maybe I hadn't totally screwed this up.

“Better now?” I asked.

“I am.” She touched her fingers to my cheek. “In my world, when a couple lies on a bed like this together, we call it bundling. It's acceptable as long as a blanket separates us.”

“You're in the twenty-first century. We can sleep together any time, any way, any reason—and no one cares.”

“Except, perhaps, for your grandmother.” She smiled. A slow, beautiful smile.

“True.” I smiled, too. “Go to sleep. I won't leave.”

She kissed me once, then rolled over, facing away.

I pulled the covers to her shoulders, wiggled closer, and draped an arm across her waist.

Her breathing settled into a rhythmic pattern minutes later.

I lay beside her, staring out a window high in the wall. I could see stars, a faint glow of the moon, the occasional sway of a pine tree. I felt weighed down by feelings. Exhaustion from three weeks of waiting. Aches from my first—and hopefully last—fistfight. Pride and gratitude at the way my grandparents had taken Susanna in. Fear of the huge responsibility I had accepted by bringing her here.

But weaving all those feelings together was love. I loved her. Susanna made everything else worthwhile.

It took me a lot longer to fall asleep than it took her.

* * *

The smell of cinnamon tried to tease me awake, but I didn't give in, not ready to relinquish my hold on a really great dream. I stretched out a hand and hit nothing but blanket.

My eyes blinked open. I was in the guest room, in the middle of the bed, alone. It was early in the morning. No sunlight spilled through the high, round window, but the sky did have the faintly gray glow of pre-dawn.

I sat up, rubbed my eyes, and strained to hear something. Anything. From the kitchen came the sounds of pans and muffled voices. I slid off the bed and took the stairs two at a time.

Susanna and Gran stood in the kitchen, wearing aprons, huddled over a bowl. While Susanna watched through narrowed eyes, Gran lifted a lump of dough and dumped it on a sheet of waxed paper.

“Be gentle with the dough,” Susanna said with authority, “but do not fear it. Trust its texture to your hands.”

“Hey,” I said, pulling a tall stool out from the bar and dropping onto it. “What's going on?”

They looked at each other and smiled. Gran nodded and returned her attention to the dough.

“We're baking,” Susanna said. “Norah taught me how to make biscuits.” She put one on a plate and pushed it over.

“Susanna is teaching me how to make a pie crust from scratch.” My grandmother smashed the dough flat with her fingers.

“Great,” I said before biting into the cinnamon biscuit. I chewed and then stopped in awestruck reverence. The biscuit was masterful.

“What kind of pie?” I mumbled around a stuffed mouth.

“Apple and peach,” they said together, and laughed.

“I'd be willing to sample a slice of each.”

Susanna's gaze met mine, her eyes shining. “No doubt you will receive the chance.”

Footsteps thudded down the hallway from the back of the house. Seconds later, my grandfather appeared, already dressed in jeans, a golf shirt, and sneakers.

“Why are you up so early, Granddad?” I asked.

“The race,” he said with a scowl.

The reminder punched me in the gut. I pretended to misunderstand. “What race?”

“The Carolina Cross-Country Challenge.” Granddad's eyebrow shot up. “The race you've trained for and talked about for the past four months. The race that starts in two hours. We need to leave soon if we're going to make it.”

“I'm not going.” It hurt to say those words.

Susanna frowned at me, fists on hips, arms covered with flour to her elbows. “Why not?”

“I have other plans.”

“Other plans?” Granddad's voice boomed in the small space. “Sherri made me promise to be your cheerleader. I assure you, young man, I didn't get up this early for my health.”

Wow. That was cool. Really, really cool.

“Thanks, but I've changed my mind.”

Susanna leaned on the counter and lowered her voice. “You must go. I insist.”

She had to be nuts. Did she really think I'd abandon her today? Even if I
had
been training for this race for months?

“You need me.”

“Please go.”

Was I still dreaming? “You want me to do this?”

“Indeed. It makes no sense for you to miss the race because of me.” She reached across the counter and clasped my hand. “I am baking with Norah, and you want to race. We can do this at the same time.”

“But it's your first day.”

“Yesterday was the first. Today is the second.” Her smile held pure joy. “Please ride in your race. It's important to me.”

Okay, so it was important to me, too but, oddly enough, not as important today as it had been a month ago. Mountain biking had given me strength and endurance. It had given me what I needed to save Susanna. Everything else was a bonus.

“It isn't necessary. Not anymore.”

“Then do it because I have asked you.”

It was hard to wrap my brain around what she was saying. Alexis broke up with me because I wanted to race. Susanna was pushing me to race when I was willing
not
to go.

“I got pretty banged up yesterday.”

“Enough to fail?”

“No.” I was too sore to put in my best time, but not sore enough to completely fail. “It's too late to go. I haven't got my gear with me.”

Granddad snorted. “Then stop mooning over the girl, and let's leave. We have two hours before the race starts and ninety minutes before you have to report at the race meeting. There's plenty of time to drop by your house if you'll shut up and leave.”

I'd made the decision last night not to race. But everything was ready to go at home. The bike and my gear had been organized for weeks. Granddad was right. There was enough time. I felt a jolt of adrenaline.

“Are you sure, Susanna?”

“I am sure.”

Damn. How could she be so perfect? I rocketed off the stool, flew around the counter, and yanked her into my arms.

“You are amazing.” My voice sounded rough even to my own ears.

She blushed.

“You're beautiful and wonderful and brave and…” I ran out of words, so I spoke with action. I kissed her, my hands pressing against her back, soaking up her warmth through the thin shirt. It was a good thing her stays were part of the past, although she would definitely need a modern replacement, because she had seriously nice…

Granddad cleared his throat. “Excuse me, but your grandparents are here. Not that we don't remember the days—”

“Charlie!” Gran growled.

My hands dropped away from Susanna. “Sorry about that.” I nodded at my grandfather. “Okay, let's go.”

He exhaled loudly. As he drew even with Susanna, he tugged her braid. She reached for his hand and gave it a pat.

I stared in awe. Granddad used to do that all the time to my Aunt Pamela. Had he even realized he repeated the gesture with Susanna? I glanced at Gran. She was dabbing at her eyes.

“Gran, take care of her,” I said.

“You have nothing to worry about, Mark. We'll be fine.”

“Okay. See you soon.”

The chirping of a bird quite close by awakened me. The sound cut off abruptly as Norah spoke in a murmur.

“Hello, Sherri.”

I lay in a warm, soft cocoon and listened to the soothing rise and fall of Norah's voice without listening to the words. The house was filled with the smell of apple pie and baking bread. I did not wish to open my eyes, lest it chase away this lovely sense of peace.

“Yes, Susanna is sleeping. When did Mark call you?”