Edge of Time (Langston Brothers Series) Read online

And there it was. Reality. Doubts returned. The painful truth returned and Craig just wanted to… break something. Something expensive. Something that would make a lot of noise and a huge mess. Shaking his head to clear the incredibly childish thought, he drew a long breath before answering. “No, I don’t.” The words were quiet but gruff as he spoke. “Which leaves me more than a little confused as to what I’m supposed to believe.”

  Marissa swallowed and fought back another wave of the nausea which had assailed her throughout the day. “Look Craig I know it sounds crazy and I know I wouldn’t believe someone who told me a story like the one I told you.” She paused. “But it is true. I can prove it.”

  He stared straight forward, struggling with himself for a long moment, “Marissa,” his voice was ragged. “I don’t want to be lied to or played for the fool. But just the other day I was in a literal fist fight with a man I have known my entire life because he believes my wife is a goddamn Yankee spy, which she probably is.” He rose and turned his back.

  “I’ve been accused of fathering another woman’s bastard child and, not only does my wife not believe me innocent of such an act, but I am forced to either believe a ridiculous fabrication as to where she comes from or face serious doubts about her extramarital activities.”

  He strode with hands clenched to the door, trembling as renewed anger swept away the gentleness he’d felt upon waking her. “I need another drink.” He slamming the door behind him. “Damn it,” he cursed. I’ve made her cry again. Her sobs followed him down the stairs.

  * * *

  Marissa lacked the energy to follow him and demand that he see her proof. Instead she lay on the bed, letting the tears saturate her pillow. She felt completely wretched, which did not make the doubts of their relationship or her present state any easier to deal with. What was she going to do? And more importantly, what was she going to believe? Had her husband strayed from her with Kirsten Jamison? With her whole heart she wanted to deny it, but a midwife confirmed Kirsten was pregnant, and Craig had admitted to waking naked in her bed.

  A soft knocking at the door intruded upon her thoughts and Marissa flung the sheet over her head. She didn’t want anyone, especially Craig, to see her like this. The door creaked as someone peaked into the darkening room and soft footfalls padded across the floor. It quickly became apparent that the intruder was not her husband. Pulling the sheet back slightly, she saw the smiling, compassionate face of Mrs. Potts.

  “Your husband asked me to bring some dinner up to you before I leave for the night.” the cook set a tray laden with a steaming cup of broth, a crustless sandwich, and a plate of fresh fruit on the bed stand.

  “Where is he?” Marissa asked as visions of him stumbling into the house drunk in the middle of the night crowed into her mind.

  The older woman smiled from the side of the bed. “In his study I believe.” With a knowing look on her face she continued, “Perhaps you should go and speak to him.”

  “As if he would listen. Men!” She spat the last word out.

  Mrs. Potts chuckled, plumping the pillows behind Marissa. “Sometimes men just need a little encouragement,” she said. “In twenty-five years of marriage I have had my share of cross words with my husband and in my forty-eight years I have met a goodly number of men. I can tell you that Dr. Langston is a good sort.” The woman began to move toward the door. “Why you should have seen how worried he was when I told him you hadn’t been well today.” Before she closed the door behind her Mrs. Potts said, “Good night Mrs. Langston.”

  It took a Marissa a full twenty minutes, nibbling at the fruit and sipping the rich beef broth, but a last she gathered up enough courage to descend the stairs. If Craig was out drowning his woes in liquor again she would leave at first light but if he was still home… She would try and reason with him. A telltale shimmer of light leaked beneath the closed door of his study and, drawing a slow breath, she gripped the door knob.

  * * *

  Craig sat at his desk staring at the mostly empty crystal decanter of bourbon in front of him. Considering it had been full the night before, he must have imbibed considerably more than he’d initially thought himself capable. He hated the thought of Marissa crying in their room and hated all the more that it was his fault. A rattling of the door handle halted his brooding. He glanced up as she opened the door.

  Given the expression on her lovely it was difficult not to cross the enormous chasm between them and gather her into his arms. But the rift was just too large. He clenched his fists beneath the cover of his desk.

  She stared at the decanter. “How much have you had to drink?”

  “Tonight?” He lifted his hands. “Not a drop. Last night? More than I care to remember.” Leaning back in the chair he rubbed a weary hand across his bristly jaw. “What is it Marissa?”

  She stood frozen in the doorway, as if teetering on a precipice and totally unsure of what to do. Quietly she moved across the room, the long nightdress swirling about her legs. “I do not wish to fight with you, Craig, but more than our marriage is at stake here. My very life could depend on whether or not you believe me.”

  He sighed heavily. “Look, Marissa I don’t know what to believe, but if you have proof I will go with you in the morning to see it. All right?”

  She stood still, searching his face, then nodded. “Thank you.” She turned to go.

  Craig jumped up, caught her and pulled her onto his lap as he sat back in the oversize chair.

  “Let’s go to bed,” he breathed into her hair.

  “You mean you don’t want to sleep down here again?”

  “No. One night of that was more than enough.” Standing, he carried her up the stairs trying, not to dwell on how perfect and warm she felt in his arms. Setting her onto the bed and pulling the coverlet over her Craig turned to undress before sliding beneath the covers on his side of the bed. Closing his eyes he prayed for sleep to come quickly and grant him an escape from the turmoil of his life and the intoxicating nearness of his beautiful wife.

  She was watching him. He could sense it.

  Reluctantly Craig opened his eyes and raised himself up on an elbow, “Marissa, now what is it?” The pained expression on her face spoke volumes. The moment he’d agreed to see her evidence of time travel the next issue in their list of problems had crept into the light. Rolling onto his back he groaned. “This is about Kirsten Jamison isn’t it?”

  “I just can’t believe she would lie about this, Craig, after all you were fou—”

  “Yes I was found in her bed! Jesus. As if we haven’t been over this a dozen times before. She wants money, Marissa. Money!” The word split the air “I have told you over and over again that she and her family have been trying to sink their claws into me and my money,” he continued, voice thick sarcasm. “She’s been chasing me for years. When I married you before they could pull off their little stunt they fabricated another story hoping I would be forced to support her.”

  “It all sounds like a pretty elaborate hoax,” she said.

  His mood grew blacker. “Look, Marissa, I love you, and I never touched that woman before or after our marriage vows.” He paused, then went on, his voice softened a bit. “You are the only one I want to have children with, ever.”

  Closing her eyes Marissa nodded and rolled to her back. She released a weighty sigh, tilting her face back to him. Craig knew what she wanted. He held out an arm, silently inviting Marissa to come closer. She needed no further encouragement and cuddled into the crook of his shoulder.

  He drew her near, then turned down the lamp wick, bathing them in darkness. Marissa snuggled against his side, her hand falling naturally at the center of his chest. The knots in his muscles eased just a little. What was he going to do? Pulling her tightly against him, he knew this could be the last night he had with her. If the so-called “proof” was not forthcoming tomorrow, he would have to decide if she w
as mad or a traitor. He would have to make a decision.

  Silently, he sighed. Whatever tomorrow might bring, right now he needed to claim just a few hours of contentment in the arms of the one he loved.

  Edge of Time 230

  Fourteen

  The next morning Craig stood in the doorway, heart aching as he watched Marissa dress. He did not know what to believe, but he would be devastated if at the end of the day he found that she was not fully in charge of her faculties, or just as awful that all the rumors about her were true. Testily he asked, “If you’re from the future, then tell me when the war ends.”

  “April, 1865 in Appomattox Courthouse, Virginia.” Her answer came without hesitation. “The Union wins. General Ulysses S. Grant is the commander of the Union Forces at that time and General Robert E. Lee surrenders to him.”

  Craig’s jaw visibly dropped. “Lee? Surrender? You’re making that up.”

  “Could I possibly make up anything that detailed?”

  He opened his mouth to reply and then rapidly closed it. Could she be telling the truth? The progressive ideas about medicine she so often spoke of and the countless times he’d caught her and Genie in the middle of a bizarre conversation—Craig still wasn’t sure what a lead zeppelin was or what it had to do with a stairway to heaven—he would have to ask her about that someday. And her babbling about a nurse named... What had it been? Nightingale? The name was vaguely familiar, and he was sure he’d heard of a war somewhere in a place called Crimea, but it was only a vague notion.

  The tension was thick enough to slice with a knife as they drove in the early hours of morning to collect a very sleepy and thoroughly confused Genie Harris from her daughter’s house.

  In further silence the trio drove to the farmhouse, all casting somewhat apprehensive glances toward the woods. Craig’s mood had remained dourly foul and Marissa desperately hoped he would believe them when provided proof of the time travel. The sun was had just peeked over the horizon when they reached the farmhouse and Craig lifted the women from the wagon.

  “Where is this proof you spoke of,” he demanded before striding into the house without a backward glance.

  Genie turned to Marissa. “You told him?”

  Marissa shrugged as they followed Craig into the house. “I had to! It was tell him the truth or let him believe that I’m a Yankee spy.”

  “Oh!” Genie’s hand flew to her mouth. “I can assure you, Craig, Marissa is not a spy.” Leading the way into the parlor Genie opened the small door located behind the book case and pulled the box containing their futuristic belongings from the safety of its hiding place. Quickly she handed the box to Craig and allowed him to feast his gaze upon the proof of Marissa’s words.

  To say he was shocked would have been a gross understatement. Holding Marissa’s driver’s license in one hand and her cell phone in the other, he collapsed back onto the sofa, shaking his head in disbelief. “It can’t be. It is impossible, impossible,” he murmured over and over again. After a moment Marissa handed him another picture.

  The photograph was amazing, like nothing he had ever seen before.

  It was a picture of her and all in color. She wore trousers and a long sleeved shirt with the words USC Class of 2008 emblazoned on the front. Craig knew of no way for the women to fabricate such evidence but it was still several moments before he was able to speak. Looking at Marissa and Genie he asked warily, “So this is how you knew about the bombing?” Both women nodded. “You’d better start explaining.”

  Over bitter cups of Confederate “coffee” the women explained everything they knew until Craig’s head was fairly spinning. Relief that his wife was number one, not crazy and number two, not a spy or a whore was intense but it didn’t make coming to grips with the situation any easier. “Why don’t you use your knowledge to save people’s lives? If you had told me—someone—we might have saved those poor people down along the shore where the bombardment hit.”

  Marissa sat beside him. “Who would have believed me? Certainly not you.”

  “She’s right,” Genie nodded in agreement. “My own husband wouldn’t listen to what I knew. He said that whatever I knew about the past was still his future and he was going to make his own way. Besides, anyone crazy enough to believe us wouldn’t be in a position to make much difference and we would probably just wind up in the madhouse anyway. In any case, we cannot change the future--nor should we. Whatever happens, we are part of it. We must live our lives as though we don’t know anything.”

  Craig nodded thoughtfully, grasping his wife’s hand and squeezing it in evidence of his profound relief. “You’re probably right. I don’t necessarily believe the future will be exactly as you say, and there is still a great deal you two don’t know.” Changing the subject slightly Craig turned to his wife. “In the meantime what are we going to do about the rumor that you are a Yankee spy? This is going to get ugly, fast.”

  Marissa swallowed hard and looked bravely into his face, eyes shining with life despite her fear. “Surely if I’m innocent people will listen. You are an officer in the Confederate Army after all.”

  “This is wartime, Marissa. People don’t think clearly when their homeland is being invaded. When I was with the Army of Northern Virginia I saw people’s homes burned, their crops destroyed, livestock stolen or killed. Innocent people—” abruptly he stopped with an inadvertent shudder, shaking his head. Craig turned to wrap a reassuring arm around her shoulders. “I’ll protect you, love, but you have to be careful. Go nowhere unattended and do nothing that could be construed suspiciously.”

  After depositing Marissa and Genie at Carolyn’s house with firm instructions not to leave until he returned, he went home to don his uniform and made his way to the hospital. The immense sense of relief he’d experienced upon learning that his wife had not been unfaithful or treasonous was fading and now he was left to wonder, who was Marissa?

  She did not come his time… What did she think of him? Did she laugh at him and his clumsy attempts to heal people? How was her life different before he’d met her? Discovering the true identity of his wife left Craig with an odd mixture of relief and insecurity. He was totally perplexed. Her proof had convinced him, but what to do about his other problems?

  He felt as though he’d aged ten years in the space of a week. He felt trapped. The desire to escape grew ever stronger. Hangover be damned, that night he was going to have a drink. Or two. Or maybe even three. Definitely three… three would ward off more bad luck.

  Edge of Time 230

  Fifteen

  The next morning Marissa found Craig collapsed over the top of his desk. Again. And the man positively reeked of booze. “Where were you last night?”

  “Oh, Marissa,” he groaned. “What do you want? My head… It feels like it’s going to explode.”

  Marissa propped her hands on her hips, anger bubbling in her veins. I’m married to a drunk! Well, this was the last straw. “Is that all you have to say to me?”

  Craig didn’t respond, merely slumped back in his chair, letting his head roll back on his shoulders.

  Marissa narrowed her gaze. “Goodbye, Craig.” She stormed from the room, head held high even as the thin thread holding her together threatened to unravel. She’d vowed never to be wrecked by another man, but… it had happened, and she would die before letting Craig know it. Her breath came in short gasps and her vision swirled through a blur of tears. She stopped in the hall to press her back against the wall, drew in a ragged breath and held it.

  She needed her mother. Desperately. She needed the sort of comfort and understanding that only a mother could offer.

  “Where are you going?” Craig’s voice sounded with more clarity than she would have expected. His heavy footfalls sounded as he strode through the study and into the hall.

  “Out.” She dashed past him, tripping over the length of her skirt in th
e process.

  Even hung over, Craig had stellar reflexes and he looped an agile arm about her waist without missing a beat. “What do you mean, out?” He set her feet on the floor, but continued holding her close to the heat of his rock hard chest. “We need to talk about this. About everything. You can’t just leave.”

  “Talk about what?” She jerked away from him, swallowing the burning acid welling in her throat. “That you slept with another woman? That I am from a place and time which makes it quite impossible for us to be compatible? It’s obvious you’d rather drown your sorrows in bourbon than talk?”

  “Whiskey, actually,” he said, sullen.

  Her anger flared. “Whatever. It’s becoming increasingly obvious we have absolutely nothing to talk about because you can’t stay sober long enough to make any sense—or to listen to any.”

  She moved toward the door as he tried to take her arm again. “Marissa I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that and I shouldn’t have gone out last night, but after everything that happened yesterday...” His voice trailed off. “And I swear to you again that I haven’t slept with any other woman since the day I met you. Especially not Kirsten. I swear it on my mother’s grave.” Devastation lined his handsome face. “Please, Marissa, don’t go.”

  She shook her head and bit the tears back. “Just leave me alone, Craig. In case you didn’t realize I am a woman of the twenty-first century, and women of the twenty-first century do not roll over for lying, cheating, drunkard husbands. Even if they are pregnant.” She moved toward the door. “I’m going back to Genie’s.”

  He stumbled backward, tripping over the bottom step and landing heavily on the stairs. The color drained from his face. “Pregnant?”

  “Yes.” She whirled. “Does that make you proud? Fathering two children with two different women in the space of a couple months?”

  Silence.