Echoes of Tomorrow (22 page)

Elise raised her head and breathed deeply of the wonderful aromas, a heavenly look on her face, her eyes closed.  When she opened her eyes, she studied the kitchen with a mystical expression, as if she were awed by it.

"I always wondered where the kitchen was."

Her words caused a prickle along Reed's spine, as if a cold hand slid over her back.

"You always wondered...?" he questioned, and then reached up to smooth down the hairs on the back of his neck.

Something akin to alarm registered in Elise's widened eyes, but it quickly changed to wonder.

"Did I say ‘always?'  Hmmm.  I meant that I wasn't sure exactly which building the kitchen was. I must be so tired I'm not thinking straight"

You idiot!  You're going to blow it before you ever get a chance!  THINK!  Don't open your mouth, Gerard, until you've thought about what you're saying.

Elise was still berating herself when Reed seated her at the table.  The very same table, albeit a shade or two darker, that still sat in her dining room.  She stifled the urge to run her hands across the smooth patina of the surface.

The meal was a great deal more elaborate than Elise’s normal lunch, and apparently, the same could be said for Reed.  He chuckled, shaking his head at the amount of food being paraded through the servant's door.

"You must have made a favorable impression on Tessa.  She has a most regrettable habit of making snap judgments on our guests via the servant's grapevine.  She always manages to show her approval of someone through her culinary endeavors, even before she meets them.  Judging from this display, I'd say you have her unconditional favor."

"And what kind of meal is Angeline served?"  The moment the words were out of her mouth Elise kicked herself. 

You're going to blow this yet, stupid. 

Reed's quizzical look at her comment confirmed her thoughts, but then he just gave her a self-deprecating smile and shook his head.

"I fear Angeline is the recipient of cold food, and a repetitive array of it.  Tessa is a woman with a long memory, and Angeline has little patience with servants.  Very often those two characteristics do not mix."

The remainder of the meal felt like a tap dance through a mine field for Elise.  Reed kept asking probing questions in the mistaken belief he would jar her memory.  Elise was stricken with several coughing fits to allow herself time to formulate an answer.  She refused to tell him outright lies, but side-stepping the absolute truth was difficult.

Supper wasn't much better.  Reed had spent the afternoon sending out servants to search for her "relatives."  Now he was back, armed with more questions, though he did seem to be running out of them.  Elise never dreamed she'd be glad to lock herself away in the bedroom upstairs, but by the end of the day she was exhausted from being on her guard.

As she pulled the borrowed dress away from her moist, sticky skin, she felt as though she were peeling away several pounds of weights.  She never dreamed a dress could feel so heavy.  And her twentieth century body rebelled at the absence of air conditioning.  When she fell onto the bed, completely nude, the cool breeze that stirred the draperies felt like a breath from heaven.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Reed raised his head and listened.  He thought he'd heard his name being called from the recesses of the house.  All was quiet.  Shrugging, he returned his attention to the ledger before him on his desk.

He had to pause again to squeeze his weary eyes shut for a moment.  He rubbed his stubbled chin, then plowed shaky fingers through his hair before stopping his palms at his temples and squeezing.

There it was again, the calling of his name.  It was getting closer now, and this time the occasional slam of a door accompanied it.

Alarmed, he jumped from his chair and vaulted across his desk, yanking the study door open just as he heard his name screamed from the other side.

"Elise!" 
Oh my God!  She's here!

There she stood, wild-eyed and beautiful, her hair in abandoned disarray and her face a radiant glow when she gazed up at him.

"Oh, thank God!  Elise!" was all he managed to get out before she propelled herself into his arms, kissing him with knee-weakening passion.

He tightened his grasp, lifting her off the floor and returning her kisses with fervor.  When they stopped to catch their breaths, Reed put her down and held her face in both hands, his eyes searching, his fingers sifting through her hair.  His thumbs came to rest on her cheeks, then smoothed across them to trace the outline of her lips.

"Oh, little one!"  He hugged her to his chest and squeezed.  "It's really you!  You're not some vision that will fade in the sunlight!  Oh, dear God, how I've missed you."

He whirled her around in a circle, her bare legs belling away from him, the dangling tail of the man's shirt she wore revealing tantalizing glimpses of lean, tanned thighs.

Elise laughed aloud and buried her face joyously in the bend of his neck.  When he set her back on her feet, she held his hand and backed into the study, the look in her eye leaving no doubt as to her intentions.

"How did you get here, Elise?  How did you discover the secret?  I've missed you so much!"

Reed babbled on as Elise guided him to the rug and pulled him down to it.  A seductive smile played across her lips as she stood and began to slowly unbutton the studs on the shirt she was wearing - his shirt.

The babbling stopped and speechlessness set in.  He felt his eyes roll upward as the second stud popped free, and a glimpse of full, golden skin was revealed.

His mouth went dry when her fingers slid to the third gold and pearl stud.  He was on his knees, reaching up to finish her task with one sweeping movement, when he jumped up in alarm.

Elise's face had turned to a mask of horror.  She was screaming, but he couldn't hear her.

She clawed for his hand, grasping at it as a drowning person grasps for a lifeline.  With dizzying shock, he watched her hand pass right through his, then her body began to dissolve into thin air.

Reed jerked bolt upright, throwing the covers onto the floor and wishing he could discard the dream as easily.  His heart  drummed in his chest and a trickle of perspiration rolled from his temples.  He swung his legs around and planted his feet on the solid floor, trying to reassure himself that he was awake.

The dream had shaken him to his very core.  Even as he sat there trying to wipe the last vestiges of it from his mind, he knew he would never be able to forget it.

The emotions he'd felt in the dream had been so real he still ached with them.  The joy he'd felt at seeing Elise was so forceful, even now he could feel his heart swell.  And the horror as he'd watched her disappear caused his stomach to knot up as he relived it.

What in heaven's name could inspire such intense feelings?  He'd only known the woman a matter of hours, and here she was, invading his sleep and causing heart palpitations and strange nightmares.

Reed stood and walked to the window.  Everything looked completely normal out there.  A full moon shone down upon him and illuminated the landscape. 

A full moon.  That explains it.  I'm joining the ranks of the lunatics.

The extremes of emotions in the dream lingered, and Reed turned and paced the length of the room several times, the red and gold Aubusson carpet cushioning his steps.  Finally, he stopped in front of his shaving stand and picked up the water pitcher.  Without stopping to think, he bent over the matching bowl and dumped the entire pitcher over his head.  Slumped over the bowl, the heels of his hands bore the weight of his body as he leaned on the stand and tried to make sense of his dream.  He had no luck - he couldn't even categorize what it was, a dream or a nightmare.  The unbounded joy he'd felt had been almost celestial, but the absolute horror had been a product of Hell.

In one fluid motion he straightened and slung his dripping head around, spraying droplets of water around the room.

As he reached for a crisp, linen towel to catch the rivulets of water zig-zagging down his chest, he heard a clock somewhere in the house chiming four o'clock.

"Well, my night is over," he muttered under his breath, realizing he would never get to sleep again.  It would soon be daybreak, at any rate.

*******

A thorough circuit of his fields and a hell-bent ride along the river seemed to have somewhat alleviated the after-effects of his dream.  That is, until he stepped into the dining room.

He was almost startled to see an obviously flesh and blood Elise sitting at the breakfast table.  A ghost of the nightmare sprang back to haunt him, and he swallowed hard as an echo of the joy and pain resounded through him once more.  He could almost feel that sensuous body in his arms.

Reed was less than pleased with this confusing array of emotions attacking his senses.  He was a man accustomed to being in control, and these emotions were proving to be uncontrollable.

Sweeping his linen-banded planter's hat from his head, he slapped it against his leg and walked into the dining room.  He displaced the ring left by the hat when he ran nervous fingers through his hair.

Elise had been watching him from the moment he had appeared at the door.  A forkful of buttered grits hovered, seemingly forgotten, halfway between her plate and her mouth. 

What very attractive lips she had.  They'd certainly tasted wonderful yesterday, and he had to admit she seemed to know how to put them to good use.  But he hadn't noticed how inviting they...

"Good morning."  Elise was the first to snap out of the mutual trance.  Unlike most of the women Reed knew who would have been pink-faced and uncomfortable after his ill-mannered perusal, Elise was beaming.

"Good morning," he returned, "I trust you slept well."

"Oh, yes, I feel great this morning.  How was your night?"

The strange, polite question was innocent enough, but her eyes searched his face and he could almost believe she looked for something that had nothing to do with her question.  Uncomfortable with his answer, he seated himself and concentrated on filling his plate.  When he said, "I had a very restful night, thank you," he kept his eyes on the slice of ham he'd just speared.

As he reached for a bowl, his mind was not on food.  He absentmindedly selected a serving spoon and began placing scrambled eggs on his plate.  His thoughts turned to the woman in the dream.

"You're certainly getting your egg group in today," the dream woman said, a perky note in her voice.

Reed stopped the egg-laden spoon in its journey toward his plate and noticed for the first time what he’d done.  With a shrug, he dropped the spoonful onto the already heaping yellow and white mound, burying completely the lonely slice of ham.

Good lord, was all Reed could think when his glassy gaze focused on the ridiculous mountain of food.

He peered across the table at Elise and quirked a brow.

"What, pray tell, is an egg group?"  He enunciated the last two words precisely.

The woman who had invaded his home and his dreams, and who now sat across the table wearing a drab servant's gown and a huge, beautiful smile, actually laughed in his face.

"I'd say what you have on your plate there pretty much describes one."

The corners of his mouth threatened to turn up, and when he looked back at his plate they both burst into laughter.

He shook his head and managed a sheepish grin as he shrugged.  He didn't offer an explanation for his apparent egg fetish, and she didn't seem to need one.

Elise's heart swelled with hope for the second time that morning.  The first had been the moment his gaze had fallen on her.  A shock of recognition had registered in his eyes for a split second, and she had prayed that his memory of her had returned.  Though she was certain now that it hadn't, she did know that something was going on in his mind.  She recognized that look of concentration he'd used to spoon scrambled eggs onto his plate.  He was definitely grappling with some inner turmoil, and she knew instinctively that she was in the center of it.

Reed was in the process of demolishing the Mt. Everest of eggs he'd created.  In between bites he would ask her a new question that had occurred to him or fill her in on the daily routine.

"Feel free to roam wherever you please, Elise.  Perhaps you'll come across something that jogs your memory."

It's not
my
memory that needs jogging
.

"I am expecting Lillianna Dubose to arrive from New Orleans around noon.  It was, uh, brought to my attention yesterday that it could be very damaging to your reputation to remain under my roof without a chaperone, so I sent for the widowed aunt of a dear friend of mine.  I think you will find Aunt Lil to be a treasure."

"I'm sure I will," Elise managed to say, hopefully with less dread than she felt.  That's all she needed.  A nosy old woman interfering with their lives.  Damn Angeline.

The rest of the meal went downhill from there.  Reed informed her that he would be
present for dinner so she and Lillianna could get acquainted, but he would in all probability be having a late supper with Angeline at her home.  He was confident that Aunt Lil would do an admirable job of entertaining her.

After breakfast Elise went searching for Nell and found her inspecting the linens.  She had just pulled out those that needed mending, and was placing fresh potpourri sachets between the remaining ones.

"Nell."  Elise rushed forward and grabbed the old woman's gnarled hands.  "We have to get busy.  He's going to her house for dinner...I mean supper.  Whatever.  I need that dress as soon as possible.  When do you think Sukie will finish it?"

Nell's smile was warm and patient.  She took Elise's hand and led her to a third floor room that had been set aside for the seamstress.

"I be fixin' to come and fetch you soon as I was through with them linens.  Sukie done worked up that gown and all she be needin' is to fit it on you.  There weren't much to it. Miz ‘Lise.  I still says you should let her put a ruffle or two..."

Elise interrupted Nell with a wave of her hand.  "It's all part of the plan, Nell.  It can't have a ruffle."

Sukie lowered the frock over Elise's head, and as it billowed into place she sighed with satisfaction.  The mint green taffeta was almost the color of her other gown.  The little dressmaker had been a wizard with her needle and had stitched up an exact replica of Elise's costume. 

The wide straps fell slightly off her shoulders, and the neckline dipped to create a
vee
- not too low, but low enough to be seductive.  The
vee
was repeated at the waistline, making her twentieth century waist look a bit smaller above the bell-shaped skirt.  Just one thing missing.  She spoke to Nell's reflection in the mirror.

"Where can I get my hands on a hoopskirt?"

"A hoopskirt?"  Nell's questioning look sparked alarm in Elise, who envisioned one of her plans going down the tubes.

"Yes.  You know...a crinoline.  It makes the dress stand out.  A stiff petticoat with a hoop in it."

Nell pondered on her description for a few moments, then her eyes lit up.

"I be right back," she said as she disappeared through the doorway.  Within seconds she was back carrying an enormous crinoline.  It was covered with lace ruffles and ribbons and tiny silk bows, with graduated tiers of hoops under all that fluff.

“I sees why they calls this a hoopskirt,” Nell commented, eyeing the thing as though she suspected it of something.  “A while back Mistah Reed entertain a man and his wife what come from some other country...France, I believe Mistah Reed say.  Anyways, they talks funny.  After they left, Sukie done found this stored under the bed.  They must’ve forgot it.  Ain’t never seed one like this, but the lady wore them and said they was all the rage where she come from.

“She sent a message before they got on their ship in New Orleans and told Mistah Reed not to bother sending it back.  To just give it to the lady lucky enough to become Mrs. Blackwell.”

Nell dropped the petticoat onto the floor and helped Elise step into it.  She smiled a grandmotherly smile as she tied the tapes at Elise’s waist.  “Guess that lucky lady be you.”

Elise refused to let Angeline’s face form in her thoughts.

“Only if we can make him remember me.  I know that boy of yours, Nell.  He can be too damned honorable for his own good.”