Once Upon a Remembrance

  "I am," Lila whispered in a wobbly voice, wiping the tears with her saturated square of linen. "It is just that I never expected to see any of this ever again. The landlord took everything except a few pieces of clothing."

  She moved to stand beside the trolley, running her fingers along the smooth wooden edge, then opening the lid of one of the compartments.

  Isabeau bit her lip as she saw the framed picture Lila removed and clasped to her heart.

  "This was the only picture of our family that I possessed." Lila shook her head, her hands trembling as she held up the picture. Dazed, she said, "I cannot believe you were able to secure all this from Mr. Benser."

  "My husband can be very persuasive when the occasion warrants it," Michelline said dryly.

  "Yes, indeed," a male voice remarked, causing everyone to turn toward the doorway.

  "Markam!" Michelline exclaimed in delighted greeting, rising and walking over to the man in the doorway. "You must come and meet everyone."

  "Please excuse my tardiness." Of medium build, Markam Forrester had dark brown hair and long side whiskers, the likes of which Isabeau had only seen previously in photographs.

  His demeanor looked harsh and almost forbidding as he entered the room, his eyes riveted on Megan. The child stared back in wide-eyed wonder at the newcomer.

  "Are you my new grandpapa?" Megan asked without any preamble, stopping him in his tracks. "You look a lot like my Da."

  The tension in the room seemed heavy -- until he smiled at her, his whole expression softening and undergoing a complete transformation. Isabeau was close enough to see his eyes darken with emotion.

  "I would be more inclined to say your old grandpapa," he came back, a twinkling in his eyes. "I would guess you are Megan."

  The child nodded vigorously, easing any remaining tension in the room.

  Isabeau knew Lila and Megan needed time alone with Roger's parents. She was trying to think of a polite way to leave when Pierce touched her elbow.

  "Come, Isabeau, we'll walk out in the gardens."

  They excused themselves and Pierce indicated the glass door out to the gardens, taking her arm as they walked out onto a flagstone patio.

  Breathing deeply, she looked out over the beautifully manicured lawns, the precisely spaced gardens and shrubs. "That was wonderful, what you have done." She looked up at him.

  "It never gets old," he admitted.

  "You've done this before, of course. I found it quite touching."

  Halting in her tracks, Isabeau looked up at him curiously. "And by the way, why all this suspense? Why you didn't let on that Roger's family was so wealthy? Here I am afraid all this time that maybe I'd done the wrong thing in giving Lila hope, that I should never have interfered …was maybe even ruining their lives."

  "It wouldn't have helped telling you everything and maybe give Lila false hope if things didn't work out. As it is, they'll have to come to some kind of understanding on their own. We've done all we can. Now it's time to step back."

  "Well," Isabeau grumbled, "I think you could have let me in on what was going on here. I'm involved as much as you are. And another thing --" her sentence trailed off as Pierce led her behind a row of trees. Out of sight of the house he pulled her tightly to him and leaned down to brushed his lips against hers.

  "Hmm?" He murmured, kissing her neck and the skin below her ear.

  Isabeau couldn't think, all concentration centered on the feel and scent of him, his arms so tightly about her. Their tightness must have something to do with her difficulty in breathing.

  Somehow, they found themselves on a seat, and she was on his lap. Squirming into a more comfortable position, she ran her palms up his chest, then lifted her arms around his neck, unashamedly pulling him closer.

  "I've wanted to do this all morning," he said, his voice a husky rasp against her ear. Isabeau dared to place a row of kisses along his jaw line, then pulled back as far as his arms would allow.

  "All morning?' she jeered disbelievingly, "Yeah, right! You all but ignored us the whole way up here."

  He didn't answer, just smiled. Upon reconsideration, she decided it was more of a leer than a smile.

  "I could never ignore you, and that's a fact."

  She smiled. "What a situation we find ourselves in."

  "I want to marry you." His eyes were a deep, dark blue. Isabeau sucked in her breath, her mind in that split second amazingly blank.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Pierce's eyes bore into her. "I hope, sweetheart, you would at least think about it before you say anything."

  "Married -- you're crazy. We're both masquerading as someone we aren't in a time we don't belong, how can you even think about something like that?" She imagined waking up next to this man for the rest of her life, and it made her smile.

  His exasperation had an underlying amusement. "I'm trying to propose. Why are you making it difficult?"

  "Think about it, Pierce. We -- I don't know if I'm going to be here ten minutes from now, much less tomorrow. What if I get zapped out of here the way I was zapped in? What if we lose each other that way?" She had to be realistic. "We can't even think of this now. There are too many obstacles. We should enjoy what time we have."

  "Nothing is impossible," Pierce growled, bending his head, blocking out the blue sky, the rough smooth texture of his lips killing all reasonable, coherent thought. "Tell me there's no feeling there." His hand gently touched her breast. Isabeau felt the heat of his fingers burn through her dress. He dipped his head and captured her lips again.

  "Feelings have nothing to do with it," Isabeau admitted when she lifted her head for air. She looked toward the house. "We'd better go back inside."

  "This isn't the end of it," he warned.

  #

  Isabeau waved one last time, then let her hand drop to her lap. She was happy for Lila and Megan, yet sad at the realization that she would never see them again. Something inside her knew it, and the knowledge weighed heavily on her.

  With a sad smile, she recalled Lila's last words. "I hope someday my family can repay you for what you have done, Isabeau."

  Leaning back against the plush cushions, Isabeau closed her eyes, feeling bone tired and drained, unwilling to see her friends get smaller and smaller as the coach traveled further away. At least before they left she had taken one last picture of Lila and Megan beside the house.

  Lila had decided to accept an invitation to visit with her newly found in-laws. If all went well, they would be leaving for South Carolina in two weeks with Michelline and Markam Forrester. Tentative plans had been made to find a dwelling of their own when they settled in South Carolina.

  The goodbyes had been tearful, but despite this, Lila had looked happy and younger, as if a weight had been lifted.

  Isabeau listened to the steady sound of hooves on the dirt road, felt the gentle lurch and sway of the coach. Without warning, the carriage dipped, rocking her sideways, knocking her hat askew. She removed the remainder of the pins securing it, then flung the expensive little piece of nonsense like a Frisbee onto the opposite seat.

  She stared out the window at the sleek hindquarters of Pierce's mount.

  Chin on her palm, Isabeau sighed. Pierce had made it abundantly clear he wasn't happy with her. Since leaving the Forrester's gardens they had not exchanged more than half a dozen words.

  Men! She reflected glumly. Markam Forrester had offered him the use of one of his horses and he had chosen to ride horseback rather than sit in the carriage with her.

  All because she had not immediately accepted his proposal. She loved him, of course she did. But everything was so uncertain.

  Isabeau turned and looked out the other window, stretching her legs out, not quite able to rest them on the seat across from her.

  Darn him anyway. She knew she'd been right. Why the hell was she feeling guilty and sick over their disagreement about marriage?

  She slumped back down in the seat.

  Isabeau didn't w
ant to argue with him. She wanted to make the most of their time together. She knew the time was ticking away.

  Pressing her fist against the silk material covering her thigh, Isabeau wondered how much longer she would be here. Two weeks…ten years…forever?

  If she let herself give in to her inclination to love Pierce, disregarding what might happen in the future, she was afraid that one day she'd wake in the future by herself. Or maybe remain in the past while he returned to the future.

  At least if he were in the carriage with her, they could glower at each other, and she'd be distracted from these unhappy feelings.

  #

  When they arrived back at the hotel, Isabeau jumped from the carriage unaided, kicking her skirt out of her way impatiently, cursing the confinement of it as it swirled back around her ankles.

  She strode past Pierce and the driver, not waiting for him as he gave last-minute instructions to the man about the return of the coach and horse. The skies had opened up, and rain and hail were pelting down, turning the otherwise passable road into a quagmire.

  Pierce had still not ridden in the carriage, apparently preferring to get drenched rather than ride with her. Besides that, being jostled and jolted around had not helped her disposition in any way.

  Isabeau considered herself relatively easy to get along with, but at the moment she felt downright cranky. She needed to be alone. She was afraid if she said anything to Pierce, she would throw aside all caution and agree to anything he wanted.

  She entered the hotel and went immediately to her room, tossing her hat and coat carelessly on a chair.

  Brooding, she moved to stare out a window at the dark street below, shivering as the rain pelted mercilessly at the glass. She leaned her forehead against the cool pane, trying to make sense of the last twenty-four hours.

  Instead of railing at fate, she tried to put herself in Pierce's shoes, tried to see this situation from his viewpoint. She wanted to marry him, but there was just so much uncertainty.

  Tired beyond endurance, Isabeau prepared for bed.

  A knock sounded on her door.

  Hoping it might be Pierce she grabbed her coat and pulled it over her naked shoulders. She opened the door a crack.

  It was not Pierce but a uniformed bell boy. "Mr. Hawk sent his regards, Ma'am, and ordered dinner for you. May I?"

  "J-just a moment." Isabeau pulled the coat on fully and opened the door wider. He'd thought to have dinner sent to her. All she had done for the last half hour was feel disgruntled because he wanted to marry her. There was even a beautiful vase of white roses.

  Isabeau reached into her satchel for the bills Pierce had given her, but the boy shook his head. "Thank you, Ma'am, but Mr. Morgan already took care of it."

  He closed the door quietly behind him.

  Isabeau listened to each little sound in the hallway, hoping Pierce would come and share the meal with her, but he didn't show up. She touched the beautiful roses, then lifted one long stemmed rose from the milky blue vase. She inhaled the scent, smiling just a little. She and Pierce would have to figure a way out of this dilemma. Surely there had to be a way back, but she had to wonder if they would always be separated by time.

  #

  Pierce leaned his head back against the upholstered chair. Lifting his cigar to take another drag, he blew the smoke toward the ceiling. His mother was right, he conceded dryly as he twisted the expensive cigar into the ashtray: smoking was a disgusting habit.

  Pierce lifted the glass tumbler instead, tossing the remnants of the amber liquid down his throat, eyes gritty from smoke and lack of sleep.

  Women! Who could know what they were about from one moment to the next? He'd asked Isabeau to marry him, and she had not reacted as he'd hoped.

   A brief tap at his door had him sitting up in a hurry. His heart picked up speed. Had Isabeau accepted his peace offering?

  Malry stuck his head around the door. Pierce slumped back down into the chair, lifting the glass once more.

  "Hello, lad," Malry greeted him cheerily, tossing his coat on a chair. "How'd it go today? Everything turn out?" He halted several feet from Pierce, sharp eyes running over the younger man, brows drawn. "What happened? Doesn't look too promising from the looks of you."

  A match flared, and Pierce put the flame to another cigar, ignoring the obvious curiosity on Malry's face as he tossed the match into the cold fireplace.

  "What's the occasion?" He ignored the dark look sent his way and noisily stomped over to sit in a chair opposite the younger man.

  Without a word, Pierce pushed the whiskey bottle toward his friend.

  "Don't mind if I do," Malry said complacently, helping himself. He held up the glass and nodded to Pierce. "Do we have anything in particular to toast?" One brow cocked, he narrowed a glance at his young friend.

  With a long suffering sigh, Pierce said with surly humor, "Why not to the independent women of the world?"

  "Why not, indeed!" Malry agreed amiably. "A modern notion I don't agree with, but I know how you feel about such matters."

  "Hear, hear." Pierce raised his glass, then suddenly thumped it down on the side table next to him before he'd taken a sip. The liquid sloshed up the sides and over his hand. He closed his eyes wearily. Taking out a handkerchief, he wiped his hand and ran a palm over his face.

  "Independent women," he muttered, shaking his head in disgust. "I should listen to you and remain single."

  Malry studied his glass.

  Pierce grimaced. "Some women take independence too far."

  "This wouldn't have anything to do with a certain young lady by the name of Isabeau?"

  Pierce stood and stretched tired muscles. "Who else? She's a veritable thorn in my side. Stowing away on my ship not once but twice." He turned toward Malry, who quickly wiped the smirk from his face. "Have you ever heard of such a thing?" He gave the other man no time to answer, but went on darkly, "and now, when I propose to the woman -- "

  "Propose!" Malry gasped, jumping to his feet. "Good God, man!"

  "-- she says it's not possible."

  "Well! I'll say that was a close call on your part."

  Pierce narrowed his eyes on Malry. "I've played the field. I'm thirty-one years old for God's sakes. I want to marry her."

  "Why?" Malry appeared bewildered. "She's a thorn in your side and too independent to boot. She's got a mind of her own, and she'll only order you around so you're nothing more than a doormat for the rest of your life. It's best this way," he finished sagely, nodding his head as he helped himself to more whiskey. "Look at me, I've never succumbed, and I do all right."

  The combination of alcohol and weariness had slowed Pierce's thinking process -- but he had come to know Malry, and now he stared hard at the man. With a rueful smile, Pierce conceded defeat. "I hear you."

  "Well, it all has to come right, doesn't it?" Malry asked with a hint of concern. "Even for Miss Amelia."

  "I can only hope."

  Malry grimaced, looking at his pocket watch. "It's getting late. If we're going to get an early start in the morning, I really need to be finding my sleep."

  "I've been considering our time schedule, and I think that perhaps the day after tomorrow would be better to leave. We won't have to rush.

  "This business with Lila put me behind a day or so, but I should be able to finish the contracts for the ship tomorrow. I'd rather Isabeau was out of the city by the time I take care of the last bit of nastiness with Connors."

  Malry eyes narrowed. "Are you expecting trouble?"

  Pierce shrugged. "Always expect the unexpected and you'll never be disappointed. I'll meet up with you down the line."

  Malry looked doubtful. "How do you think she'll take to the idea?"

  Pierce looked at him. "She'll have to go along with it. There won't be a choice."

  Malry's brows shot up, his expression saying it all.

  "It's the safest way," Pierce rasped.

  "You know that and I know that, but --"

/>   "She'll see reason."

  Malry got up to leave, a knowing smirk on his face. "You got your work cut out for you, I'll grant you that, lad. Better you than me. I'm too old for such games."

  Pierce snorted rudely.

  As Malry moved toward the door, Pierce said, "You know, don't you?"

  Malry half turned back to him, but he said nothing, waiting.

  Pierce narrowed his eyes. "You know when to keep your both closed, Malry, I'll give you that. You know I'm not Hawk."

  "Aye, lad, that I do," Malry finally said. He walked back toward Pierce.

  "When?"

  "Almost two weeks after the attack down on the wharf. I confess I wasn't sure given the state of your mind at the time, but soon it became apparent I was dealing with two men, not one."

  Pierce started laughing. "I could level that same charge at you Malry, two men, not one.  The irritating, loud seaman or the city-dressed detective. What tipped you, even though I look like Hawk?"

  Malry smiled. "Aye, on the outside I'll grant you there are many similarities. No offense meant, but there were too many tell-tale signs. Don't forget I've known Hawk since he was a young lad. He's a good man, but there's a darkness to him due to his experiences." He shook his head. "Be glad you don't carry that same burden."

  "And Amelia?"

  "She's the light in his life, the one who's helped pull him from that dark pit of memories."

  "And I assume you know his whereabouts?"

  "That I do, and it's best if it remains a secret for now. He was near killed that night, but my lad's getting stronger by the day," Malry said with satisfaction. "It's getting harder to keep him confined. When I last saw him, he was cussing me out." He lifted a brow. "Tell me your name, lad, so I can give it to Hawk. He'll want to know who to thank."

  "Pierce Morgan. And as outlandish as this is going to sound, I'm a descendant dropped here from the future." He lifted a brow. "I know that must sound incredible."

  "Aye."

  "And yet you look pretty unimpressed. So tell me what you know."

  Malry scratched his head. "For the best part of a month I wasn't sure about you." He wrinkled a dark eyebrow. "You know I listen, yes, I know they call it eavesdropping, but I listen to everything. Didn't take me long to figure out something was going on with those sweet old ladies in your -- ahem -- Hawk's household."

  "Belva and Maize."

  "Aye. Now I'm a man with his feet firmly planted, but I will tell you I've been all over the world and I've drawn the conclusion there's nothing that's impossible in this world or the next. It takes a different kind of belief to just walk away when something is telling you your eyes aren't fooling you. If I hadn't seen men disappear before my eyes, I might have had a difficult time accepting this moving through worlds."