Edge of Time (Langston Brothers Series) Page 8

  “Oh, Marissa!” He rolled to his knees and gathered her within the fold of his arms. “Hush, love, I’m here for you.” Gently he slipped an arm beneath her knees and pulled her across his lap, ever so softly brushing his lips across her hair. “Marissa,” he pulled back just enough to look directly into her eyes, “I understand what you’re going through, really I do. But we cannot change what’s already happened. You reminded me that all we can do is move on and not allow ourselves to be consumed by regret and bitterness.” His eyes burned like blue embers at the base of a flame and a fire, his fire, ignited something deep within her veins.

  Her breath hitched. “I don’t know, Craig. It’s so hard to start over completely. I don’t have anything left of my old life. Everything is just so… different.”

  “What’s so wrong with different?” Craig gently ran his knuckles up and down her arm, it was soothing. “Nothing in life is ever easy, but I believe things happen for a reason; even when it’s not fair and makes no sense. Have you ever heard the saying when a door is closed a window is opened?”

  “Yes,” she sighed miserably against the warm comfort of his chest. There was true irony in his statement, she thought, thinking of that one-way portal that had drawn her to this time in history. Pulling back she flashed a watery smile. “Thank you for this, but I think I ruined your shirt.”

  “Ah,” he shook his head without looking at the splotches of tear stains and, unfortunately, snot. “Shirts wash and I’m just glad to help.” Flashing her that irresistible grin, he held out a hand. “Come on. I’d better get you home. And tomorrow, you take the day off. It’s Sunday.” Before climbing to his feet he leaned in to press a quick kiss to her lips.

  The touch left her feeling warm and more than a little fuzzy all over. When he kissed her the gaping hole Brian had left in her heart flickered and caved just a bit around the edges. But Craig was more than a bandage for past hurts. He was like a salve, soothing, numbing and oddly warm.

  “And I was wondering...” His gaze lingered on her face. “Will you be attending the officers’ ball next weekend?”

  “And why would you like to know, sir?”

  “I was hoping to see you there.”

  “What about Miss Jamison?”

  “What about Miss Jamison? I’m not having dinner with her or hoping to see her at the officer’s ball.” His smile was intoxicating. “I will, however, be heartbroken if you aren’t in attendance.”

  “Heartbroken? Well, we can’t have that,” she answered, casting thickly lashed eyes downward in sudden, and not at all assumed, shyness. “Don’t worry, Craig, you won’t be disappointed.”

  “Good, then I will take this opportunity to ask you for the first dance.”

  Gazing up at him, into his eyes, she felt as though she could lose herself in their blue depths forever.

  “The first dance will be yours.”

  * * *

  Despite being utterly exhausted Marissa lay awake long into the early hours of the morning thinking about Craig Langston and how he’d held her in the moonlight.

  The officers’ ball?

  How quickly time had passed. She’d never planned to be here long enough to attend the ball. She’d thought to find a door or wormhole back to 2012 quickly and never have to deal with the reality or hurt of being sucked too far within the contours of this life.

  She didn’t want this life… did she? Didn’t she want her life? Life with running water, and grocery stores, and dear God, fast food!

  Craig’s blue eyes flashed through her mind and her heart lurched. This wasn’t fair. Life wasn’t fair. Fate and destiny weren’t fair, because the cold reality was, she was falling in love with Craig Langston. When she looked at him she could see the whole dream. She could see blond children with sparkling blue eyes, a husband worth adoring and the perfect balance her life had been craving. When she was with Craig the shoddy laces holding her soul together tightened.

  But could it work? Could it ever really be? She didn’t belong here. Even in sleep words like destiny and fate haunted her, swirling around the shimmering statue of a god reclined in the moonlight.

  * * *

  As Craig walked home after seeing Marissa safely to Carolyn Reed’s house his thoughts followed a similar train.

  She was incredible.

  Beautiful and intelligent, Marissa seemed his match in every way. He wanted her. He wanted her as he’d never wanted another woman and… and what? She was what he’d spent years dodging, a woman to share his future with. But she was more than that. She was an angel, too, but no, his thoughts ran on, that wasn’t right; she was Venus, or Aphrodite, she was… Dear Lord but he was acting like some love struck fool! He was no poet and yet his mind ran circles trying to find an adequate description for Marissa.

  Raking a hand through his hair, Craig contemplated the course of his future. He’d spent years skirting the alter and it wasn’t just looking for a woman with genuine qualities, but a deep seated, almost irrational fear of losing the one he loved. He’d been but nine years old when his mother had died giving birth to his youngest brother and his father had nearly been destroyed by despair and loneliness. And then three years ago, his brother David had lost his wife, also in childbirth, just one year after they’d been married. Davy had been wrecked leaving Craig to wonder what quirk of the soul possessed people to fall in love. He’d decided then and there that family life wasn’t for him, but now that perspective was changing, shifting, and maybe it was the war or maybe it was the awesome force of nature that was Marissa.

  Marissa…

  Surely just one of her dazzling smiles could tide a man for a lifetime.

  Six

  Marissa rose late after another restless night, unsure if she was in good spirits or confused spirits. Craig had told her to take the day off as it was Sunday, and her body had more than welcomed a few extra hours of sleep. Humming to herself she threw the covers back and dressed as quickly as she could, still a most cumbersome task.

  “Good morning.” She breezed around the corner of the stairs. “Sorry I slept so late.” The mantel clock read after ten in the morning.

  “Oh, Marissa, don’t feel bad,” Carolyn replied. “Mother told me about all the work you’ve been doing and how you cared for the men who were hurt in the accident. I am so impressed. Are you a doctor?”

  “No,” Marissa stated, perching on the settee facing the two women. “I’ve had some formal training though.” Carolyn and Genie were sewing and she gestured to the silk in their hands. “What are you working on? That fabric is beautiful.”

  Carolyn and Genie shared a conspiratorial glance. “Well, with the ball coming up we knew you needed a dress.”

  Marissa gazed at the beautiful green fabric in amazement. “You mean…”

  “It’s for you!”

  “I hope you don’t mind,” Carolyn continued, “but we had to reuse material from some older gowns.”

  “No, of course I don’t mind.” She couldn’t stem the burn of tears. “Thank you. Why, why are you being so nice to me? You only just met me and, and…” Marissa couldn’t find the words to finish her sentence.

  Genie rose and came to her. “Marissa, you’re family.”

  Looking into Genie’s eyes she knew the other woman meant it. “Oh, Genie. Thank you so much!”

  Genie winked with a bit of the devil in her eye. “Do you think Dr. Langston will like it?”

  Marissa couldn’t help but laugh, wiping the tears from her eyes.

  “Mama,” Carolyn drew their attention. “Speaking of Dr. Langston, I’ve been thinking, with Marissa working at the hospital nearly every day it doesn’t make sense to drive back and forth. I think you and Marissa need to stay here indefinitely. Especially in light the mysterious man digging in your woods. Fredrick and Grace can take care of the house during the day and you can drive out every week or s
o to check on things.”

  “That would be wonderful Carolyn, thank you.”

  Marissa’s light mood deflated with Genie’s words. Over and over she’d blamed the man in the woods for thwarting any immediate attempts to get home. She crossed her arms in frustration. Being away from the farmhouse permanently would only stem further attempts to return to her time. She was thoroughly intrigued by the hospital and Craig. Every day spent in 1863 Charleston pulled her further from home and closer to heartbreak. It was high time she made a real effort to find that gateway back to where she belonged.

  * * *

  The next afternoon Genie stomped through the front door, plopping her blue bonnet onto the table. “Sheriff Hudson and his deputies haven’t found a single clue in my woods. Nothing! How does one find nothing after a man has been digging holes in the ground? There must be some sign of disturbed soil. You know,” Genie tapped her chin thoughtfully, “Maybe we should go out there and have a look around ourselves. Marissa and I saw where the man was and I’ll bet we could find something!”

  Marissa grinned eagerly, but with an ulterior motive. “I’m game.”

  “For goodness sake, Mother, I haven’t the faintest idea where you come up with these ideas.” Carolyn leapt from her seat beside the fireplace. “That man could be in the woods now! He could have murdered someone for all we know and the two of you,” she swept a pointed finger from her mother to Marissa, “do not need to be poking around a murder scene! This is a job for the sheriff and no one else.”

  Genie grumbled something about the incompetence of the sheriff and Carolyn rolled her eyes.

  “I don’t know,” Marissa teased. “It could be buried treasure. Didn’t Blackbeard the pirate sail up and down this coast?”

  “Oh!” Carolyn threw her hands up. “I don’t know what I’m going to do with the two of you!”

  Rolling her eyes back to her daughter Genie conceded. “All right, all right I won’t go poking around in the woods. Happy?”

  “Yes.”

  “Although I still think we could do a far better job of investigating the woods than that old dunce of a sheriff.”

  “Mother!”

  Marissa couldn’t help but laugh though it saddened her to think she may never argue this way with her own mother again. She missed her mother terribly. Releasing a disheartened sigh, she set aside the bolts of leftover fabric Carolyn had her stitching—an exceedingly boring diversion—and meandered to the backroom to prepare a bath and sulk.

  Oh, the simple luxuries she had taken for granted.

  Staring glumly at the tin basin she lit the stove and began heating the water, longing for a shower and running water, a toilet that flushed. Presently, cooling the overly hot water she tested the temperature with the back of her hand and sprinkled a few drops of rosewater into the tub. Slipping beneath the surface Marissa breathed a deep sigh of relief. However burdensome it may be to prepare a bath it was still relaxing to soak and she desperately needed to lighten up and think.

  * * *

  Dr. Bernstein and Craig Langston watched with poorly concealed amusement one afternoon as Marissa gave James Rowe what they’d come to term The Look. It was a rather amazing ability. With nothing more than a small quirk of her brow she could have the most obstinate of men backtracking in circles until he discovered the “right” course of action. Craig had found himself victim of the look a time or three. It had taken him all of a day to realize he was being maneuvered and all of two to realize he liked it. He liked the fire in her dark eyes, the way they flashed, the life in her. Marissa’s presence lifted the whole atmosphere of the hospital.

  “She’s a pistol, that one,” Bernstein commented, casting a suggestive glance at Craig. “I admire her spunk.”

  Craig just smiled. “So do I, sir. And I have to admit, she really seems to know what she’s talking about.”

  Major Bernstein shrugged. “I don’t know. Some of her ideas seem a little unconventional.”

  “She saved Charlie Tanner’s life,” Craig pointed out.

  “I suppose.” The major shrugged again. “And the boys always look disappointed when she leaves for the day.” The Major winked slyly at Craig. “Seems to me you look a little disappointed when she leaves too.”

  Craig bit back a sheepish grin. “Oh, you think so?”

  “Unconventional” was hardly the word to describe Marissa, he mused. She was the kind of woman who took orders from no man—though she was amenable to suggestions. In fact she was the type of woman to give men orders and have them obeyed. She worked like a man, on occasion she cursed like a man—typically after she found some comical fashion to hurt herself for the umpteenth time in a day—and not only did she understand the men’s jokes but she could laugh along without blushing—at least most of the time. But while Marissa had obviously not lived a sheltered life there was a conservative quality, an innocence, about her that served only to increase his desire. The combination of those qualities with her spitfire nature was irresistible. He more than liked it; he wanted it for himself.

  * * *

  These men, these surgeons, are impossible! Marissa berated silently as she swabbed a pus-filled wound with a saline solution she’d boiled up herself. It was no wonder so many of these patients had raging infections. How could doctors be so careless about sanitation? While maintaining the cleanliness of the wards grew easier by the day with the assistance of the orderlies, it was painfully obvious how little was known about germ science in the 1860’s. Hand washing was anything but commonplace and the surgical instruments were rarely cleansed even between cases unless she saw to it herself!

  Deplorable.

  Diligently, she’d set about implementing means and procedures for the cleansing of instruments, hands, linens, and bandages. To her immense relief most seemed to be following her implicit instructions, though convincing the surgeons had proven a more difficult undertaking than she could have possibly imagined. Not that convincing surgeons of anything during any time period was easy, but she was making progress. Major Bernstein seemed to find her determination to boil every instrument amusing, yet told her most obstinate opposition—James Rowe—to humor the young lady as it couldn’t possibly do any harm.

  “Miss McClafferty?” An orderly approached.

  “Yes?” she asked smiling at the boy. He’d become one of her most able students.

  “There is a man here to see you about his stitches,” the young man said. “He’s out front.”

  “Okay, er, I mean, all right, I’ll go and see him right now.”

  Marissa made her way to the front of the hospital and stopped short when Paul Christenson’s short surly figure came into view. A sense of unease settled over her as she remembered all the times she’d felt his black eyes on her in town. Quickly she gathered the supplies to remove his sutures and send him on his way.

  “Your arm looks fine, Mr. Christenson.” Marissa clipped below the last knot and pulled the suture from his forearm. “Do you need anything else today?” The man’s glare was menacing and she couldn’t help but wonder why he’d bothered asking for her assistance.

  “I notice you’ve been staying in town.”

  A chill ran up her spine. He’d noticed? How closely had he been watching? With a jaundiced eye she neglected to answer.

  “Probably wise,” he said cryptically, narrowing his gaze as he stood. “It isn’t safe for two comely ladies to be alone in the country.” Christenson jammed a wide brimmed hat onto his head and turned to leave. “Not safe at all.”

  What am I supposed to make of that? Marissa chewed at her lip, deciding to speak with the sheriff should Paul Christenson so much as look at her cross-eyed again. Marissa tried to dismiss him from her thoughts, and returned to work.

  A short while later Craig found her rolling bandages and scraped a chair across the floor to sit beside her. “What was Paul Christenson do
ing here? Was he bothering you?”

  “Apart from wanting me to remove his sutures,” she began, stilling her hands, debating how much to tell Craig. “I think he’s been following me around town.” She quickly relayed the disturbing conversation.

  For a long moment Craig fell silent, expression stern, pensive. “Have you spoken to the sheriff about this?”

  “No.” Her fingers toyed nervously at the thin fabric of the bandage. “But, Craig, I’m not sure Sheriff Hudson can do anything about it. He hasn’t really done anything wrong.”

  “Just the same, I’ll mention it to him and keep an eye on Christenson myself.”

  “Thank you.” Marissa smiled, touched.

  “It’s no trouble.” Craig picked up a scrap of loose fabric, beginning to roll it.

  “Stooping to lowly nurse-er-uh, orderly work, Doctor?” Her question was teasingly pointed, and she laughed as he feigned indignation.

  “Actually, I was hoping to walk you home tonight.” He looked incredibly sweet and she couldn’t hold back a pleased grin. His asking to walk her home had become something of a daily custom. It was also his custom to kiss her good night, every night.

  “Of course. When are you finished?”

  “Now.” He grabbed her hand, causing the bandage roll to drop upon the desk and unravel completely. “Leave it.” Craig raised his shoulders in a nonchalant gesture. “The orderlies can take care of it. I have something to show you.”

  Marissa laughed as he practically dragged her from the room. “What is it?”

  “It’s a surprise,” he responded, a mysterious light twinkling behind his eyes.

  He led her from the hospital and tucked her hand into the crook of his arm, guiding her along the busy street. People scurried to the side as Craig walked through, avoiding his hulking, uniformed figure as his long legs ate up the roadway. Marissa stumbled over her full-length gray skirts making it very difficult to keep pace with him. “Craig, can you slow down a little?” What I would give to wear jeans again…