Home in Time for Christmas

  “So, you folks have made it,” he said, sounding happy.

  “Yes, it’s not always easy actually getting my entire family out of the house,” Melody told him.

  He nodded, and glanced at her brother. “Mind if I take Melody for a walk?” he asked.

  “No, dude, go for it,” Keith said.

  It was evident that Jake was learning. He didn’t question the word dude.

  “Where are we going?” Melody asked him.

  “Just out beyond the balcony. It’s so beautiful. If you’re warm enough. We’ll stop for mead.”

  “They have mead?” Melody asked wryly.

  “Yes, of course, and it’s very good. And I’m quite in awe of the whole place. There are so many people here. People in all colors. And they are so varied in their nationalities, or origins. They all get along with one another so pleasantly.”

  “It’s not always sugar and roses, I promise you,” she said, but then she grinned. “You should see New York City. You can hear dozens of languages in a one-block walk.”

  “Fascinating.”

  His hand on the base of her spine, he led her up the stairs to a table covered in black and decorated with black roses—tied with little ribbons of red and green. There were several women working behind the table, passing out plastic glasses of warmed mead. They accepted two, and Melody found herself proud to hear Jake complimented for his playing, and prouder still to hear his humble thanks to all.

  Then they moved through those hovering around the bar and headed to a door that led them out to something that was a mixture of a balcony and a rampart.

  The night was beautiful. Stars were abundant above them, and though it was cold, the breeze was gentle. The castle sat upon cliffs that looked out over the water, and they were bathed in the colorful lights from within and soft glow of natural light from above. Jake looked out with a joy and wonder at the night that seemed to touch Melody all over again. The world itself seemed to be new through his eyes. So many things she took for granted were miracles to him.

  Perhaps it wasn’t so odd that he should expect another miracle.

  Real, or created in the magic of the mind.

  “This wasn’t here, you know,” he said. “I see places, and they have changed, and yet they are the same. Some of the old houses…your house. My house.”

  He looked at her. The breeze was just lightly moving his hair. Apparently, the band had brought their own forms of Gothic uniform for the night, for he was in snug-fitting black jeans and a black poet’s shirt.

  He was compelling. Striking in the sculpture of his face, and in coloring, and yet far more seductive because of the light and laughter in his eyes, and the warmth that seemed to suffuse from him.

  He set his mead down on the edge of the brick wall, then did the same with hers. He took her hands suddenly, drawing both to his lips. He kissed them fervently and gently, then met her eyes again. “Thank you.”

  She flushed, wanting to draw her hands away, loving the feel of lavalike warmth that seemed to spill over her and seep through her. She winced. She barely knew him. A few days ago, he’d yet to appear in her life. And yet she knew that she wanted to spend so much time with him. Chemistry, pheromones, whatever drove the human race, leaped within her in abundance. He stirred her imagination, and she felt extremely young again, holding tight to just the moments in which they had tumbled in the snow, bodies touching.

  Through an awful lot of clothing, yes…but!

  She smiled. Her heart was thundering too quickly, as well.

  “Thank you. Thank you for being here. For making us all laugh and stop and think and see everything that’s around us. Thank you…for being you.”

  She was leaning into him, she realized. But it was all right. He was leaning into her.

  She was going to lean closer; he was going to lean closer. He was going to kiss her, and it was what she had been waiting for.

  His lips touched hers, warmth and magic. A gentle touch, nothing forced to it, and there was something of the wonder he saw in all the world that seemed to come with that kiss.

  And yet it was brief.

  “I shouldn’t have, I had no right,” he told her as he pulled away.

  “Pardon?”

  “I think you are the finest women. I did not mean to take liberties.”

  He was barely an inch from her. He was earnest and intense. She smiled slowly and told him, “Jake, twenty-first century. A kiss is not a liberty. You did nothing wrong at all. The world has changed. You don’t need anyone’s permission but mine for a kiss, and that is freely given.”

  “Oh? You’re quite certain?” he asked. But there was a teasing smile on his face now. “I would never harm you in any way, take any advantage.”

  Melody laid her palms against his cheeks and reveled in touching him, feeling the warmth and texture of his face. Then she drew herself closer to him until their lips touched again. This kiss wasn’t just warmth. Their lips melded together, and then parted, and a spiraling edge of passion began with a sweet slow simmer. His arms came around her, and she was against him, feeling his heart, his every breath, and the heat of his body, as if it infused her with warmth against any hint of winter chill.

  Then, from somewhere, she dimly heard a throat being cleared. And then a whisper. “Hmm, is it him?”

  That they were being interrupted didn’t enter Melody’s mind for a moment. She was oblivious to people and conversations taking place near them.

  She had waited, and she had wanted.

  She felt as if she had fallen into a moment of pure sensation and bliss.

  But it wasn’t to be.

  “There you are!” chimed an excited feminine voice.

  Melody and Jake started and broke apart. She turned to see one of her mom’s friends, Infinity MacDonald.

  Infinity had been born Mary MacDonald. When she had joined her coven, she had legally changed her name to Infinity.

  Some people were energetic, but Infinity bubbled. She didn’t just speak with her hands, but with her whole body. She was a tiny woman, about five foot even and maybe a hundred pounds, but she seemed to have a much greater presence since she—bubbled.

  “Hi, Infinity, how are you?” Melody asked.

  She realized then that Infinity had not been referring to her when she had spoken. She glanced at Melody again, seemed to realize who she was, and greeted her cordially. “Melody! Lovely to see you, child. I’ve been looking for this young man!”

  Jake smiled at Infinity. “Can I help you with something?”

  “I want you to meet my friend Sherry. She’s a wonderful medium. I told her how I had felt you such a very old soul when I met you while the band was setting up. She’s so anxious now to meet you.”

  Great. Jake and a medium. He wouldn’t be rude; he’d start telling his story, and it would all turn into real chaos and disaster. Potions would fly!

  “Jake has to be back with the band,” Melody said. “Break is just about over. Maybe he can meet her a bit later.”

  Maybe she’d find a way not to let it happen.

  “Nonsense, dear, nonsense!” Infinity said. She slipped an arm through Jake’s, drawing him from the balcony. “Sherry is just inside. It’ll take two shakes of a dog’s tail.”

  Jake offered her a grimace and followed along with Infinity.

  Melody followed hot on their heels.

  Sherry—as big a woman as Infinity was petite—was standing just inside the arched doorway to the main house.

  She didn’t need an introduction. She stepped forward, smiling broadly, and took Jake’s hands. “So this is the young fellow who so impressed you, Infinity. Handsome young man. I’m so sorry. Sherry Simmons. And you’re Jake Mallory. That’s rather a famous name in these parts.”

  “Oh?” Jake said.

  “Mallory, yes. I believe there was a Revolutionary War hero with your name. His body was spirited back from New York City after he was executed. I believe. There are all kinds of rumors. No one
really knows.”

  Jake stared at the woman, betraying no emotion.

  A dead war hero…it was the story he gave. Maybe he knew the real story and the legends, and was somehow playing into both.

  But, despite his efforts at stoicism, he did look a bit as if he’d taken a sucker punch.

  “Thank you. I’d love to see where he’s buried,” Jake said.

  Sherry still had his hands. “You are an old soul, my friend. A very old soul. I’m having a difficult time seeing your future, but it seems that your past was fraught with violence and passion.”

  “He’s an historian,” Melody put in nervously. “Not much violence in that!” she said lightly.

  Sherry didn’t look at her. She was still studying Jake. “Not in this life,” she told him softly. “You’re struggling to make everything right in worlds you can no longer touch. And I can’t see the future because, of course, too much is left in our own hands. We are creatures of free will, and I don’t know what will happen.”

  “Oh, look—the band is setting up again,” Melody said, staring through the doorway. “Jake, you do have to get back onstage!”

  She managed to get him through the archway, but Sherry’s hand fell on her arm before she could follow him.

  “Melody, just where did you meet this young man?” Sherry demanded.

  8

  The band played.

  People danced, ate, drank—and were merry.

  Melody spent a great deal of the night worrying.

  Everywhere she looked, it seemed she saw her mother with a new group of Wiccan friends. And they were whispering. They had grave and thoughtful expressions, and they were whispering.

  What could be worse?

  She quickly found out.

  She felt a hand on her back and a warm presence behind her. “Surprise! Guess who?”

  Her heart sank. She spun around.

  “Mark.”

  He bent to kiss her lips. She didn’t turn quickly enough. He was a strong man, and not expecting a refusal. His kiss was a big and obvious smack.

  To his credit and her own humiliation, he really had no reason to expect anything other than enthusiasm from her. He’d been invited to family Christmas. By her mother, yes, but it had been quite safe for him to assume that her mother had invited him because she had wanted him. He knew that she was hemming and hawing about marriage, but he didn’t know that it was over, completely over, in her heart.

  She glanced quickly toward the stage.

  And, of course, Jake was staring at her.

  “Mark…I thought you couldn’t possibly make it until tomorrow,” she said, and then prayed that dismay wasn’t evident in her voice. He didn’t deserve cruelty from her.

  “I know. I managed to get that meeting changed, and I took off out of the city as quickly as I could. And it wasn’t all that bad getting here.” He grimaced. He had dressed for a party. He was a handsome man, dressed stiffly in a suit coat and tie. His clothing was designer label, but belonged in a New York club, not at a Wiccan ball.

  “I’m glad you traveled safely,” she told him.

  “Yeah, I just didn’t know I was coming to a crazy house,” he said.

  She frowned. “It’s a Wiccan ball.”

  “Your crazy mom’s crazy friends, right?” He didn’t say the words with malice, and still, though she might say it herself, she didn’t want her mother called crazy.

  “It’s a free country, we’re all entitled to our beliefs,” she said.

  He slipped his arms around her, hugging her to him. “Well, I know, but we’re going to have to spend a little time figuring out just which way we’re going. Our children must be raised in faith—and not a Wiccan faith!”

  She opened her mouth to tell him that her crazy mother wasn’t a Wiccan; she had friends everywhere. She just shook her head and realized he was talking about the two of them having children.

  “Mark, it’s definitely not something we need to worry about now,” she told him.

  “Right, but we should be giving it some thought.”

  “Mark, it’s not just that I don’t want to get married immediately,” she began.

  He didn’t seem to hear her. “Can we get out of here? Have you done your daughterly duty long enough? I mean, there’s got to be somewhere else we can go.”

  “I can’t leave, Mark. And actually—”

  She didn’t get to finish. She felt a presence behind her, and she realized with horror that the band had stopped playing.

  Jake had joined them. “Hello, how do you do? I’m Jake Mallory.”

  Mark looked at him. “Sure. Nice to meet you. I’m Mark Hathaway, Melody’s fiancé.”

  Jake started, but kept his composure. “Congratulations.”

  “We are not engaged!” Melody announced.

  “Not officially. Not yet,” Mark said. “So, Jake, do you live around here?”

  “He’s from Boston,” Melody supplied.

  “Oh?” Mark said.

  “I’m a very old friend,” Jake said, glancing at Melody. “I was at loose ends, and she was kind enough to bring me home for the holidays.”

  “Well, uh, great,” Mark said, looking at Melody.

  She wished she could crawl into the floor. She wondered why, in all their conversations, she had never explained about Mark and the relationship that had almost been but wasn’t. Jake’s eyes were so intent on her, and she knew, no matter what the time period, it was wrong to lead someone on, wrong to make two people think that you longed to be with them.

  She suddenly felt like the worst harlot in history, even though she wasn’t actually sleeping with anyone. Was there such a thing as a semiclean Jezebel?

  “Jake is an amazing musician,” Melody said. “He agreed to sit in for a fellow who works with the group normally.”

  “Nice,” Mark said. He was stiff, but being polite. He was merely suspicious. Jake, on the other hand, seemed to have been struck with the truth, and he was handling himself politely anyway. But the way that he looked at her! It caused a physical pain within her.

  She was saved from the awkwardness of the situation when her mother came breezing in upon them. “Why, Mark! You’ve made it. How nice. We didn’t expect you until tomorrow,” Mona said, as if she was completely oblivious to the tension in the group.

  “Mrs. Tarleton, hello, I came in early,” Mark said. He gave Mona a kiss on the cheek and a hug. With her usual enthusiasm, Mona hugged him in return. “Have you met Jake, then, Mark? Or had you two met already? Anyway, it’s lovely that you’re here. The party is really in full swing. There’s food and drink just up the stairs, and the band is just…just…just perfect. You all are just playing everything!” she said, addressing Jake. “They’re great fellows to work with,” Jake said.

  “How long does the party go on?” Mark asked.

  “Oh, till the wee hours!” Mona said with a wink.

  “Well, hello there!” Melody saw that her father had woven his way through the crowd. Keith was with her father.

  “Mr. Tarleton, great to see you!” Mark reached out to shake her father’s hand as if it were a lifeline.

  He thought her father was the normal one in the group.

  “Good drive down?” George asked Mark. “Or up, however you choose to see it.”

  “Yes, sir, the drive was fine, thank you,” Mark said.

  “Hi there, Mark,” Keith said.

  “Keith, great to see you. Great to be here,” Mark responded.

  There was real warmth to his voice. He was being polite but he did seem to care about her family.

  He wasn’t a bad guy, he wasn’t a villain. She just wasn’t in love with him, she wasn’t the one he was looking for.

  “Oh,” Mona said. “Lora Richards, your third-grade Sunday-school teacher, is here, Mark. She’ll be delighted to see you. Come along, let me steal you for just a sec!”

  Mona linked arms with Mark.

  Mark looked back with a panicked “Help me!” look on hi
s face.

  “My Sunday-school teacher is at a Wiccan ball?” Mark asked Mona helplessly.

  “We all enjoy a good party, Mark,” Mona said seriously.

  “This isn’t good,” Melody’s father commented gravely, shaking his head.

  Melody flushed, thinking that her father was referring to the fact that she seemed to have two young men with whom she was involved staying at the house.

  “Dad, I’ve been trying to explain to everyone—”

  Jake interrupted her. “Melody, I wish that you had mentioned you were engaged.”

  “No, no, no,” George said. “Mark has just arrived way too early.”

  “I have to get back in with the group,” Jake said. “They are paying me. But you mustn’t feel obliged in any way, Melody, to stay the night if your fiancé is here.”

  “He’s not my fiancé,” Melody said.

  “He thinks he is,” Keith said flatly, “that’s the problem.”

  “Look, I’ve told him but he won’t listen. He’s not a bad guy, Keith. He just thinks that I’ll change my mind,” Melody said.

  “None of this is important. The only thing that matters is getting Jake back to his own time,” George said.

  All three of them, Melody, Jake and Keith, went dead silent, with three jaws dropping simultaneously.

  “What? Did you think I was stupid?” George demanded.

  Then, of course, they all talked at once.

  “Of course you’re not stupid, Dad,” Keith said.

  “Mr. Tarleton, never in a century of centuries would I presume you were anything but an extremely intelligent man,” Jake said.

  “Dad, wait a minute, I mean, what are you talking about?” Melody demanded.

  “But, sir, with your knowledge of so many things, your involvement would be greatly appreciated,” Jake said.

  “Dad, you can’t mean that you believe—” Melody began.

  “Cool, Dad, really cool, except, for real, we’re not going to blow Jake up, right?” Keith asked.

  George backed away from the three of them, raising his hands. “I am a scientist—when enough evidence is presented to me to make me believe some experimentation is necessary, I pay heed. Now, I have read through all these diaries your mother has found. I have seen Jake—hell, I even studied his shoes and clothing. Yes, there are historical tailors and boot makers who can reproduce these items, but I am convinced that Jake’s belongings are authentic. And I don’t believe in coincidence, so…do I believe what Jake believes to be true regarding himself as something possible? Back to basics—once, the greatest minds in the world believed that the world was flat. So….”