Carousel (6 page)

She hadn't been outside since she arrived, except for one fruitless foray. She now turned to study the house, a gasp escaping at the magnificence of Wildwood.

The house was white, a large two-story structure with additional windows jutting out from what might be an attic or third story. Huge columns rose from ground to roof, and lined up across the front and sides. Intricate metal railings ran at the edge of the second story balconies, which appeared to parallel the porches all the way around the house.

Close-cut green shrubs edged the porch, and as her gaze followed the row of bushes, she spied a gazebo off to the side, away from the main building. She slowly turned in a circle, trying to absorb the wealth and splendor she saw before her. This was no recreated facade based on some artist's rendering. This was a real house, built with love for a family of real people, and somehow she had been plopped right into the middle of it.

A horse's neigh caught her attention and she turned to the right of the house. A large paddock contained several beautiful horses. Two fences surrounded the area of green, an oval dirt track sandwiched between the enclosures. A racetrack, she thought, recalling Nicholas's comments about raising racehorses.

"Are you ready, Miss Eastman?" His deep voice interrupted her thoughts and she turned a startled gaze towards him.

"You have a beautiful home, Mister Westbrooke."

He nodded his head in thanks, before indicating the carriage with a wave of his hand. She strolled past him to the door, ready to climb aboard herself, once she figured out how to collect her long skirts and hoist herself up at the same time. Before she had the chance, he circled her waist from behind and deftly lifted her inside.

She almost stumbled trying to keep her skirts untangled and get herself seated. She had learned to walk with yards of material swaying around her ankles; stepping and sitting were other lessons entirely.

As with everything in this world, the ride in a carriage was a unique experience for Jaci. The lurch of the horses as they started threw her head back, banging it against the wall of the carriage. She felt terribly awkward, and was afraid Nicholas would renege on his choice of a companion for Amanda when he saw her clumsy movements. She needn't have worried, because he appeared to forget he'd invited her as the miles slid by.

She sat on the seat opposite him and couldn't see what he read. The sheets of paper were full of heavy black ink and studying them made frown lines appear on his forehead. Jaci gave a sigh and settled back to enjoy the view.

All around them, deep crimson, mustard yellow and dusty brown dotted the landscape and Jaci wished for her camera. Even though she needed no more evidence, here was yet another indication she was no longer in Dallas. There were too many hills, too many trees, and no concrete or asphalt anywhere.

"We'll arrive in a few minutes. Is there a particular shop you frequent?" Nicholas's voice pulled her from her wayward thoughts. He had put aside the papers and had his arms crossed on his chest, the flaps of his coat thrown back over his shoulders. The dark colors he wore only served to accent the silver in his hair, yet Jaci didn't think he was as old as the gray made him appear.

"How old are you?" The question popped out before she could stop herself, and he looked as surprised as she felt.

"You are very outspoken, for a female. Why do you want to know?" He returned her question with one of his own.

"Because the gray in your hair contradicts the youthful lines of your face. I don't think you're all that old."

"If that were a compliment, I thank you; I think." He smiled at her and her heart squeezed. Regardless in what century this man resided, he was devastatingly handsome. "To answer your question, I am thirty years of age. I dare say the gray is due to putting up with a rapscallion brother like Cameron and his pixy daughter, Amanda."

She had wondered about that relationship and why Amanda lived with an uncle, yet she had hesitated to ask. Now, as they pulled into the outskirts of Philadelphia, Nicholas answered her unspoken questions.

"I realize it doesn't appear quite the thing to have a young child, especially female, living alone with a bachelor uncle. Of course, that will change once I marry, but it doesn't explain the occurrences up to now."

"Of course." She didn't know he was going to marry. She started to wonder what would become of her when he did, but soon forgot her own plight as he told the sad story of Amanda's parents.

"My younger brother, Cameron James, married Sarah when he was only twenty-two; she only seventeen. Though both families begged them to wait, they would hear none of it for they were terribly in love."

He sounded so cynical, she couldn't help asking, "You don't believe in love, Mister Westbrooke?" Of course,
she
didn't, but often thought herself alone in that regard.

"Yes, Miss Eastman, I believe in love, but not the all consuming love Sarah had for my brother. There is such a thing as loving someone too much." He paused and turned to look out the window. She wondered if perhaps he wished for that precious commodity, even as he said he didn't want it.

"Anyway, within a year of their marriage, Sarah gave birth to a daughter, Amanda. Though the child was born healthy, Sarah was too young, and the birth difficult. She bled to death." He said the last with such finality, Jaci shivered, thinking how backward medicine must be in this century.

"Cameron, of course, blamed himself for Sarah's death, and no force on earth could keep him at Wildwood, nor get him to take responsibility for a baby daughter. To allow him time to recover, I gave him control of the family shipping business. That was five years ago. He comes home, but not often. Amanda reminds him of Sarah, and it's very hard on him."

"But you would have only been twenty-five and too young for responsibility of that magnitude."

"As you so eloquently told me that day in the library, sometimes there's no time for frivolous activities. I had been managing Wildwood since I was twenty."

Nicholas began to pull on his gloves, and she realized the story had ended. It would seem they shared a common background. She wondered about his family. What kind of parents did he have that shaped his personality even now? How strange for Nicholas to allow Cameron to wander the world while he raised his brother's daughter. As she continued to study the man across from her, she realized Amanda couldn't have been placed in better hands.

Nicholas was confident, strong, and had a good deal of responsibility on his shoulders. It appeared he had a sincere commitment to family for he saw to Amanda's needs and protected her, even though that responsibility should be his brother's. In fact, he provided her the same safety. She sighed, a longing for something more surfacing unbidden to her mind.

"Are you ready, Miss Eastman, or would you rather wait out here? I'll only be a moment at this first establishment." When he spoke, Jaci realized the carriage had stopped, and he had already alighted.

She had no desire to stay outside in a strange town with no protection. She hurriedly gathered her skirts and scooted across the seat. This time, he held out a hand and she placed hers in the warmth of his gloved one.

"We must remember to buy you some gloves," he commented as he tucked her hand in the crook of his arm. He led her through a large wooden door into what appeared to be a furniture warehouse.

"Ah, Gustav, how are you?" Nicholas left her side to step forward, shaking the hand of an older, broad chested man.

"
Wilkommen,
Nicholas," the man answered in a heavy accent.

Nicholas turned and pulled her forward. "Miss Eastman, I would like you to meet a dear friend of mine, Gustav Dentzel. Perhaps you know of his work?"

"The cabinet and carousel maker, of course," she replied automatically, nodding at the introduction.

"Oh, my God, that's it!" she shouted as the connection sank in. Both men backed up in astonishment.

She grabbed the older man's arm and shook it. "Mister Dentzel, where are your carousels?" Her heart pounded and her palms became damp with the realization she could get back to her own time if she could find the carousel--the
Dentzel carousel
she had been photographing.

Nicholas, of course, didn't understand her agitation. "Miss Eastman, please." To his friend he added, "You'll have to excuse her, Gustav. She's newly arrived from the south, much excited to see the city. She tends to forget her manners." He slanted a meaningful glance towards her, but she ignored him. She was far too excited about getting back to Dallas.

"Ja, ja."
Gustav nodded his head, apparently pleased with Jaci's interest in his animals. He pulled her by the hand, chattering in German as he led her to a workroom behind the store.

Jaci quickly glanced back to see Nicholas following, a frown on his handsome face. She would miss him, she supposed, but the thought was fleeting. She had found her way home.

Scattered around the workroom in various stages of production were a menagerie of wooden animals. She squealed with delight as Gustav pulled her through the door. She jerked her hand free and raced to the first horse. Nothing happened.

She flitted from shape to shape, touching the horses but ignoring most of the other animals. Each time she touched one, she closed her eyes and held her breath, hoping that would be the horse to transport her back to Dallas and her own life. Each time she opened her eyes, she felt as though a great hand squeezed her throat, making it difficult to breath.

Her steps faltered and she stumbled, but grabbed her long skirts and continued on. There had to be at least one horse in this room that could recreate the magic she needed. She had to find the correct one and get back to where she belonged.

She had no idea the strange sight she made; nor did she care. By the time she touched each and every animal several times, tears spiked her lashes. She stood dejected in the center of the workroom, sobs silently shaking her shoulders. When Nicholas touched her arm, she turned into him, burying her face in the soft wool of his coat.

His strong arms wrapped about her, but she could find no comfort there. She knew he couldn't comprehend her need. She felt him take a breath to ask, but she spoke first, her voice quivering.

"Don't you see? It was because of the carousel that I came through--" She glanced at Mister Dentzel, whose intense look told her he understood more than his broken English revealed.

"Remember the day I arrived at Wildwood? I was at a carousel, taking photographs." She knew she wasn't making any sense, especially since Nicholas didn't have any idea that she had come through time. "I had just touched the black--"

She turned sharply to Mister Dentzel. "Black.... You have a black horse?" She swiveled around, frantically searching the horses again.

"Nein, nein."
The woodcarver scooted in front of her, waving his hands in a negative gesture. "Gustav's horses are never black. We use only the pretty colors. Look." He grandly swept a hand towards the horses his workmen were completing. He was right, of course. She scanned the jumpers and steppers, but none of them were black.

Nicholas took her firmly by the arm. "Thank you, Gustav. I am sorry for any inconvenience we may have caused. You will have Amanda's chest finished by Christmas?"

"Yes, of course,
Herr
Westbrooke." Gustav bowed low as Nicholas led her out of the workroom.

She turned to speak, but Nicholas squeezed her elbow in warning.

"Miss Eastman. I would suggest you leave with me quietly." He spoke in a low voice. "Gustav is a good man, but he may be inclined to think you more than eccentric if you continue to barrage him with questions about some strange horse he does not have."

She hung her head in defeat. Once inside the carriage, she stared out the window, seeing nothing.

"Miss Eastman?" A pause. "Jaci?"

She turned.

"You can't return home on a wooden horse." His tone was light, and Jaci knew he thought to tease her out of her mood.

"Why not? That's how I got here." It didn't matter what she said; she didn't care what happened.

"Who
are
you?" This time his voice sounded hollow and haunted. Still, she didn't have the answer she knew he wanted.

"You can't possibly understand. I came from another century. I don't know why, or how, except that I'm sure the Dentzel carousel had something to do with it."

His voice turned brusque. "I believe you hit your head harder than Dr. Stillwell claimed. I probably shouldn't have brought you to town."

"It doesn't matter. He doesn't have the carousel horse I need." Totally defeated, she wanted to scream her outrage. She had been positive the horse would take her home.

An unsettled look crossed his features. "Perhaps I should take you to the doctor again. I'm normally an easygoing person, but you're spouting nonsense. I do not want you repeating this foolishness in front of Amanda. Do you understand?"

Jaci knew better than to argue. At present, she had no recourse but to accept his charity, and his dictates. It didn't take a genius to realize she was better off at Wildwood than in a mental hospital, if such institutions even existed in 1874.

She nodded in acceptance.

Nicholas reached behind him to a small door that opened to where the driver sat. "Take us back to Wildwood, Stephen. Miss Eastman has taken ill."

Chapter Four

Nicholas enjoyed routine, a reasonable certainty about what would happen each day. That was the way it had always been. The arrival of Miss Eastman at Wildwood had disrupted the normal flow of his life, and he wasn't sure he liked it.

After the incident at Gustav's, he became even more wary of her. When she had tearfully turned to him in the furniture shop, instead of feeling anger at her strange actions, his desire had steadily risen. She had soft curves which fit him perfectly, and she smelled extremely sweet and feminine.

All in that one suspended moment in time he had wanted to protect her from harm, fix whatever was wrong, and kiss her senseless. Such conflicting emotions had left him frustrated to the point where he had almost lost his temper in the carriage.