Breathless (7 page)

B
lue had lost her virginity years before, but Stella’s was way easier. Maybe because she wasn’t a teenager. Maybe because she was so damn horny she could scream. Maybe because Colt’s fingers had stretched her earlier. Maybe because her heart was already in his snare. Soon, she let all thought slip away, and let Colt draw her back to the moment, to the realness of being here with him. Like this.

Deep between her legs, Colt pumped in and out of her like a steam piston. Her sticky clit sought the base of his cock, and when she arched, she felt the incredible surge of tension she craved.

“Stella,” he crooned into her ear, his lips finding her shoulder, nipping her gently. He plunged deeper still and she shuddered when he flooded her, the force of his orgasm taking her into her own. “My love, my life. My own.”

“I can’t promise myself to you, Colt. Not yet.” She picked at the soft cotton tablecloth. They’d rescued the top half of the stew, but it sat in their bowls, untouched.

He sipped at a stiff drink. Having a dutiful marriage proposal turned down could do that to a guy, she supposed.

After a round of some of the best sex she’d ever had, everything passionate about their encounter fizzled when Colt had proposed.

Actually, that wasn’t quite right. Everything had fizzled when she’d refused him. “But, it isn’t that I don’t want to continue in this relationship. I want to be with you. Let’s just see how this works out.” Twenty-first-century conversation with a twentieth-century man didn’t translate well.

“I’d heard that Belle was raised by a mother steeped in the Free Love Movement, but hearing this from you is a shock. You’ve cleaned up the messes from illegitimate births and seen the devastation they cause. Women thrown out of the family homes, discarded by the men who’ve mistreated them! I don’t know how you can be cavalier about something so serious.”

“The prophylactic didn’t break, Colt. We’re fine.”

“But—”

She put up a hand to stop his wild talk. It was wild to her but perfectly sane to him. No one got married because they’d had sex in her time. No one.

She ached for him. He was so confused. She’d made it clear she felt strongly for him, and now, here she was denying those very feelings. Not to mention that Belle would be furious if she found out he’d proposed and she’d tried to put off her response.

But how could she do more damage to Stella? It was wrong, no matter how she looked at it. Stella was innocent in this whole mess, and she was the one who would have to live with everything Blue left behind.

If only Blue could sort out why this switch had occurred, and whether it was permanent. If it was permanent, then she could happily marry Colt and raise Belle’s child as theirs. Everything could work out. Colt was magnificent, generous in spirit and loving. In her real life, Blue would never find a man like him, she was sure of it.

“Any woman would be pleased to have your proposal, Colt. I just can’t say yes right now. It wouldn’t be right. Not yet.” She had to be certain she could stay in this time.

With Stella technically out of the picture, it seemed that she should be able to stay. But she had no way to know what was happening with Blue’s body.

If this was a soul switch, it seemed feasible to Blue that she’d be able to live out her life here.

Colt finished his drink, put the stopper back in the bottle, and slipped the bottle back into his medical bag. He stood, and after an awkward hug, with no kiss between them, he walked to the door. His face was set like stone, and while she wanted desperately to reach out to him, she wouldn’t, couldn’t prevent his leaving.

Faye watched as poor Blue McCann’s chest rose and fell with shallow breaths. The nurse had been in an hour ago to give her the sorry news. They hadn’t found a single living relative for Blue McCann.

No friends had called Blue’s cell phone, and there were no numbers in her contact list. Faye couldn’t believe anyone could be so alone in the world.

She’d gone to the room Blue rented and found out just how sick and poor she was. With a week left on her rent, fifty-three cents in her wallet, and no bank card or statement anywhere, Blue looked destined for a homeless shelter.

If she’d just wake up, Faye could take her home. Perdition House had plenty of room, in spite of being full of ghosts. They were, for the most part, kindly souls who would allow Blue to recuperate in peace.

But there would be no recuperation, not with a chronic lung disease. And certainly not for a poor woman alone in the world.

Her ghostly great aunt Belle had told her about the corset’s effect on Blue. When Faye had pressed her for more information, Belle had shut down and drifted off into wherever she spent her time when she wasn’t pestering the life out of Faye.

She lifted Blue’s chilled hand and slipped it under the thin flannel sheet. Leaning over the young woman, she reached for her other hand and warmed it between her palms. “Blue, if you can wake up, you’ll have a home with me. A job, when you’re well enough.”

But the disease had nearly run its course, and the harried doctor that had been in that morning had given his patient next to no time. “But if you want to move on, it’s all right to let go. Be at peace. There will be no more pain, no more loneliness.”

Especially if Belle had anything to do with it.

And Faye suspected that Blue had been a person of interest to Belle since the day she’d been born. The spirits of Perdition were an interesting crew, a blend of self-serving sexual nymphets, greedy for the only physical sensation they could still feel, and warm, caring selflessness.

Somewhere, somehow, this young, failing woman was a vital key to their continuation on the spiritual plane.

She kissed Blue’s forehead. “I’ll be back in the morning, Blue. I promise,” she said. The other patients in the ward weren’t in much better shape, but at least Blue’s privacy curtains were intact. Faye made sure to close them on her way out.

She stepped into the front foyer of Perdition House an hour later, emotionally spent. A young woman passing away and never having made a mark in her life saddened Faye. “What can I do to help her, Belle?”

“That’s beyond the living, Faye.” Her voice rose all around Faye, then settled on her shoulders, a comforting shawl.

Belle had been the one to encourage Faye to dig through the trunks in the attic for inventory for TimeStop. She couldn’t recall who had discovered that particular corset. They’d found piles of well-preserved clothing and had doubled the store’s income in no time. Internet sales had also gone through the roof. “The living may not be allowed to do anything, but is it beyond your ability?”

Belle clucked sadly. “It is now. I helped her make the jump back to nineteen thirteen, but the rest is up to her.”

“Can you check in with her? See what’s happening?”

Her aunt appeared, sitting on the third step of Perdition House’s grand staircase. She propped her chin in her hand and looked mournful.

Unlike her, thought Faye, to seem helpless.

“It’s painful for me,” Belle explained, “for reasons I didn’t understand at the time.” She swiped at a tear on her cheek. “But Blue’s discovered many things in the past. Love among them.”

“I didn’t think spirits could feel pain, just orgasm.”

“It’s not physical, Faye. And before you say more, I will not explain. Not even now, all these years later.”

“If Blue dies today, will she live in the past? Or move on?”

“The path she took to go back to when the house was new is there for her to follow.”

“But she put on the corset! She took the path already, how can she follow it now? It’s already behind her.” Maybe if she tried on the corset again, she would come back to this time. But nothing waited for her here. Nothing but death. Distress filled her. “There must be some way to reach out to her, to help!”

“Blue’s a smart, resourceful woman, Faye. Have faith.” With that, her great aunt faded to nothing.

“There must have been a good reason for arranging this, I just hope you know what you’re doing.”

“I have faith, Faye. You should too. Haven’t I always brought things to rights?”

Blue spent a sleepless lonely night in Stella’s bed. She wanted to do what was right, but she had no way of knowing what that was. If she promised to marry Colt and they went off on a Grand Tour of Europe with Belle, Stella could return to an ugly mess.

But if she didn’t do all she could to help Stella’s own sister, Blue would feel guilty forever. She’d already made a mess of things by having sex with Colt. She’d been greedy and selfish, and Stella was the one who would pay the price.

It wasn’t right. It wasn’t fair! But life wasn’t fair. Blue understood that at an early age, had lived her life with the knowledge that, in spite of trying hard and working toward her dreams, life could kick you right back down.

How was it, then, that she cared so much for Stella’s life? Because Stella was an innocent victim in all of this, came the instant reply from her conscience.

She rose at dawn and opened the top bureau drawer. The corset sat folded on top. If she tried it on, would she still be here? Or would she go back to her own time? If she went to her own time, would Stella return before any more damage was done?

Terrified to try, feeling responsible for what would happen to Belle and her baby, Blue waffled.

The corset was as lovely now as the first time she’d seen it in the window of TimeStop. It seemed like weeks ago, but it had been only a few days.

The bump on her head had mellowed down to no more than a knot, and the color had faded to yellow. Her headache had disappeared within hours, and her recuperation had amazed her.

She wasn’t used to feeling healthy. She hadn’t felt sexual in at least two years. Food tasted good again, the air filled her lungs, fresh and clean. Her heart thumped along steadily, and her mind was never foggy from drugs.

She loved Stella’s life.

And she loved Colt Stephens. With no way of knowing Stella’s real feelings for the man, she only hoped the other woman wouldn’t mind the relationship. Although being a virgin meant she’d been saving herself for marriage, an old-fashioned notion that had never crossed Blue’s mind.

She traced the laces of the corset from the bodice to the bottom. Sexy laces, hand stitching. No wonder it had called to her.

As fantastical as this event was, she had to wonder if she’d been called to this piece of clothing for a reason. If her coming back to this point in time had a real purpose, then she needed to find that purpose.

She decided to look at the facts. Like a detective in a television show, she would make a board with every bit of information she knew.

Once the details were laid out in a logical fashion, she hoped to see a pattern or a clue as to what her next step should be.

If nothing came to her, she’d do what she dreaded most.

She’d put the corset back on and see if she went back to her own life. If she didn’t at least try it on, she’d feel as if she were stealing the life that Stella had been meant to live.

In spite of knowing that Blue McCann’s time on this earth was severely limited, it would be wrong to stay here and take Stella’s.

Her narrow closet door looked whitewashed on the inside. Using a pencil, she listed the events as she recalled them. She even jotted the date she first saw the corset in the store window.

Once everything she knew was listed in an arc with plenty of room between the spokes for ideas to be added, she sat back on her bed. Dressed in a soft cotton floor-length nightie, she tucked her knees up and covered her chilled toes with her hem.

Then she stared.

And she thought.

And considered.

B
lue considered the events as she’d chronologically listed them on the inside of the closet door. But it wasn’t until she considered the emotional connections that she could make some sense of things.

She had to combine her knowledge and understanding of everyone involved in this event. From both lives!

Once she figured out that the interconnections couldn’t be dismissed as coincidence, her ideas began to take shape.

She’d been abandoned as a baby. Then when her real mother had been found, she’d been left a ward of the state anyway. Her mother hadn’t wanted her. The drugs she was addicted to had won out over maternal love. Or maybe, her mother loved her too much to keep her in that lifestyle.

Whatever. The end result was that Blue raised herself within the foster care system. By the time she was diagnosed with her lung disease, she’d already decided life was short, so her teens were one wild tear after another.

Too many boyfriends, too much meaningless sex, and too many parties had further weakened her.

It hadn’t been until her friend got pregnant that Blue found her calling. She’d worked and scrimped and saved and taken out loans in order to pay for her education as a doula.

She’d wanted to ensure that babies were born into peaceful, happy environments. She wanted to support mothers so that their children had the best possible start in life. If she’d had the time, she’d have been a good doula, she just knew it.

Stella’s strong hands had delivered children. Her fingers were long and narrow enough to reach in and help if necessary. She flexed her fingers, felt the strength in them. Stella had been a competent midwife, a confident woman, and Belle’s sister.

A sister newly entrusted with a child’s life. A hidden child.

The situation related to this unborn baby. Belle couldn’t raise it, not when a thriving business depended on her.

Especially important were the secrets Belle kept. Blue didn’t want to know them, and she saw the sense in Belle keeping her sister a secret as well.

She’d asked around, and Belle was known for living an emotionally isolated life. How that must burn! Belle was a warm, caring woman and was forced to deny her natural bent.

She’d created a lovely home in Perdition House, where only the best would do. The girls who lived there deserved to work in a safe environment.

The responsibilities loaded on Blue’s shoulders landed heavily. A child’s life, the secrets of a nation’s leaders, and her love for Colt warred for dominance.

In the end, she knew she had to protect all three.

Blue McCann had been fated to this life. Fated to take over Stella McCreedy’s body and raise her sister’s child.

There were two people she needed to speak with, but she wasn’t sure how to reach them. A telephone hung on the kitchen wall, but it wasn’t like any one she’d seen before.

Still, she had to try. Five in the morning seemed too early to call, so she put the corset away and bathed and dressed. By seven, she stood in the kitchen and cranked the phone.

An operator! “Hello, can you tell me how to put a call through to Perdition House? I need to speak with Belle Grantham.”

“One moment please.” The voice was tinny but efficient. After a series of clicks, she heard a ring and Belle answered.

“Good morning, Perdition House.” She sounded sultry and businesslike, a good combination for a madame.

“Belle, I need to get in touch with Lizzie and Bart. Where are they?”

“Stella?”

“Yes, I’m ah, trying to get hold of Lizzie. Do they have a phone?”

“No, but they’re due for a visit today. They’re coming for lunch, would you like me to send them over? Or would you care to join us here? Your car’s ready to go, and I’d like it out of my driveway.”

“Maybe Bart could drive it over here? Just as soon as they arrive?”

“Lizzie can drive. Bart’s not convinced automobiles are safe, and with your accident, he wears a smug expression whenever the topic comes up.”

They chatted about a couple of other details, but when Belle said nothing about the baby, or Colt proposing, Blue followed her lead. Maybe operators could listen in without customers knowing.

Blue hung the mouthpiece back on the hook and dug out a box she’d found. Inside was stationery and a pen and ink set. It was time to write Stella a note.

She had something to explain, just in case she and Stella did another switch. An hour later, she thought she’d gotten the details right. At least she hoped she had.

Shortly before noon, a knock sounded at the door. The looming hulk of shadow at the window told her it was Bart and Lizzie, the couple who’d rescued her from the car wreck. There was one thing she needed to know, and Lizzie was the woman to tell her. She went to the door and opened it.

Lizzie’s face lit up in a happy smile, while Bart stood back with his hat in his hand. “Hello, Stella. Feeling better I see.”

They were a mismatched pair, he a giant and she a tiny delicate slip of femininity. Mismatched until a look into their eyes showed the love they shared. It was almost painful to see because she’d given up on ever finding anything similar. Her mind skipped to Colt, but she shook her head. It wasn’t safe to think of Colt and love in the same moment.

Not when she had no idea how long she might have with him.

As for Belle and the baby, she prayed that Belle’s plan would work out for everyone involved, even if it meant that Stella would return and Blue would go back to her living death.

“I’m much better, Lizzie.” She waved them to chairs, pleased to see that Lizzie smiled at Stella’s improved memory.

Bart’s chair squeaked a protest but held up under his weight. “Thank you for being so quick to help me that day. I don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t been there.” She touched her scalp to remind Lizzie of the bump she suffered. “I may have wandered off confused. But, forgive me, I meant to offer you coffee and cake.”

Bart’s eyes lit up, and she got him a heavy china mug and a slice of pound cake. He accepted the food with a shy, grateful smile. Lizzie patted his hand, pleased that Stella remembered how awkward her husband could be with fine china. He was literally a bull in a china shop.

“I still can’t recall all the details of my accident and I hoped you could tell me what you saw. You know, immediately before I hit the ditch, and then when you first saw me on the ground.”

“Surely. I don’t think I’ll ever forget it, will you, Bart?”

“No, it was like it all slowed down. Like I could see it comin’ before it happened. Never seen nothing like that before.”

Lizzie nodded like a bird about to sing. “You were ahead of us on the road and then the car started skidding sideways, and suddenly, you ditched it and slammed into a tree. All I saw then was you, flying up and over the front of the car.”

“I went through the windshield?”

“You don’t have a real windshield,” Bart explained. “You replaced it with that monocle glass to reduce the weight so you could go faster. Got rid of your wooden wheels too. You told Doc Stephens about all that the first time you met. Don’t you recall?”

“No, I don’t.” She patted her hair. “I guess I’ve lost more memories than I knew.”

“That’s to be expected considering when I first set eyes on you,” Lizzie explained, “I could have sworn you were a goner.” She looked closely at Blue’s neck. “Seems strange there’s no bruise or anything.”

Melted ice trickled down her spine and set off tingles of apprehension. She covered her neck with both hands. “Why?” She’d had a bruise on her neck, but it had disappeared faster than any others. She remembered Colt kissing it once. It had been gone the next day.

“I got to you first, but we both thought your neck was broke,” Lizzie explained. “Your head dangled like a straw doll that’s lost its stuffing.”

Bart nodded his agreement. He spoke in a rumbling baritone. “All twisted up, you was.”

Blue’s belly dropped with the weight of a boulder. Stella had died! There hadn’t been a switch at all! Stella had died and Blue had been given the chance to live this life. Stella’s life.

The room went watery as tears filled her eyes. Distressed, Lizzie rose and patted her back. “There, there, you’re fine now. Right as rain, just like always. In no time, you’ll be back taking care of all the women who need you.”

She nodded, unable to sort out all her thoughts. All her feelings.

Colt hadn’t said a word about a neck injury. As a test, she rolled her head from side to side. She felt fine, not a crick or a creak anywhere. “See? Good as new,” she said to reassure the other couple.

Badly shaken, Blue did her best to hide the effect of their news from her guests. But they were due for lunch at Perdition House, so they climbed into Bart’s carriage and left. Lizzie had driven Stella’s car, slowly and carefully, and under Bart’s watchful eye. After Lizzie and Bart left, she swept the kitchen and tidied the bedroom.

Like every other major event in her life, she had to handle this alone.

She couldn’t tell Belle her sister was gone forever. She couldn’t tell Colt the woman he’d cared for was dead. No one would believe any of this, so she had to slip into Stella’s life like a hand in a glove.

Even her training as a doula had been destiny. Cursing her stubbornness, she recalled the school counselor’s suggestion that Blue take the midwifery classes. She’d assumed the old lady was just after the higher tuition. Her low-paying job convinced her to stick with the less expensive doula option.

She’d bucked destiny that day and didn’t want to try it again; there was no saying how she might mess up.

Another side reminded her she’d done her best. That’s all anyone can do, she told herself.
And that’s all you can do now.

She tore up the note she’d written to Stella and burned the fine paper in the stove’s firebox. Then she sat and had a good cry for the woman whose life she’d taken. Stella McCreedy had had good friends, family who loved her, and a fine man who’d been interested in her. And not a one of them would ever know she was gone.

Blue had a lot to live up to, and she was very grateful to have the chance.

But she had to make certain that the future would unfold as it should.

She considered the next step of her plan and stood at the kitchen door staring at the automobile that waited at the bottom of the back stairs. She could see the attraction. Stella had had it painted a bright yellow, rather than black, the windshield was tiny and oval shaped and would offer no protection from wind or rain, but it looked cool. The heavy wooden wheels she saw on all the other vehicles had been replaced by snazzy metal spokes.

Afraid she wouldn’t be able to drive the thing without sending it into another tree, she caught a ride to Perdition House with Hope’s husband. Jed had to deliver a couple of dresses one of the girls had ordered. Blue told Jed she felt too nervous to get behind the wheel, and he kindly refreshed her memory on the simple controls.

If she took it slow, she could probably learn how to drive one of these things, but the bouncy ride was hell on her backside. It would be years before roads were paved. There were many changes coming to the world.

She was excited to live through them. It came to her that she’d have an insider’s knowledge on up-and-coming inventions and where to invest her money, if she ever earned any.

Hope’s husband kept up a steady stream of conversation about his children. Jed’s excitement over being a father again with Hope cheered her. He was everything Hope said he was, a great husband and father.

Colt would be equally awesome in those roles.

As soon as they stopped in front of the house, she climbed out of the delivery van with her wrapped package tucked under her arm.

The van had a bench seat for two with a large box in back. Painted a deep green, Jed had the sides painted with the name of his store in fancy script. The red lettering edged in gold leaf reminded her of old signs in museums. He gave her a tip of his cap and went to the back of the truck to get his delivery.

Perdition House loomed before her, three stories of Victorian glory. Somewhere, there was a trunk in the attic she had to find.

Belle opened the front door and stepped out onto the wraparound veranda. “You missed lunch by two hours!” She looked past Blue at Jed’s truck. “You didn’t drive yourself?”

She shook her head. “Not yet. I’m not ready. My stomach rolled when I saw the car. All I see is me flying out of the seat, over the hood.”

Belle’s expression went soft. “It’ll take time. You’ll be ready soon.”

“Could you sell it for me?” The idea of having some cash felt right. “I may invest in something.” Like the
Ford Motor Company
. When they got back from Europe, she could buy another car. Something slower that had a full windshield. And somehow, she’d find a way to strap herself in.

Her
sister
pursed her lips. “I wondered when your father’s blood would win out.” Her eyes lit with humor at the in joke, and Blue recalled that their daddy was a force to be reckoned with in business. As was Belle. She relaxed and knew that whatever investing Stella did would seem natural to anyone who knew her.

“What brings you out here?”

“My apartment was closing in on me.” Blue figured Stella was not much of a homebody, so the excuse sounded right.

“Not surprised.” Belle assessed her with a sharp eye. “You look remarkably recovered. There’s a glow in your cheeks I haven’t seen in some time.”

“Thanks! I’ll tell you how it got there over tea.” She mimicked Belle’s inspection. “And I could say the same about your glow.”

Belle chuckled and led the way into the house. They settled for tea in Belle’s office. At two in the afternoon, the house was quieter than usual. Most of the girls were resting or shopping, the gentleman callers, as Belle preferred to call her clients, were still at work.

“A party from Washington left yesterday,” Belle said. “A couple of senators and an ambassador or two.” The smile on her sister’s face was content.

A fresh crop of secrets
, went unsaid.

Belle poured the tea and prepared it the way Stella preferred. Two lumps of sugar, no milk. Blue drank it and pretended satisfaction. She missed her cappuccinos.