Echoes of Tomorrow (6 page)

"I'll see if I can round up those clothes while you're in here.  They'll be on the bed outside the door."

Reed nodded.  He looked anxious to try out these new gadgets, so Elise backed out the door and closed it behind her.

While Reed enjoyed his very first steaming shower, Elise dug through a seldom used drawer and came up with an old pair of jeans, oxford shirt, socks and underwear.  She was sure Don wouldn't mind Reed using them.  Her close friends, Don and Jan Sevier, kept a change of clothes at her house all the time.  One or both of them would come over and exercise her horses if she was out of town for any length of time.  They also made sure Alan, a neighborhood kid, kept the horses fed and watered.

She waited for Reed across the hall in her favorite room.  Her den was the only completely modern room in the house, aside from the kitchen and the upstairs bath.  She had tried to maintain the integrity of the antebellum home throughout the rest of the house.  Her den was where she came for a dose of reality.

She'd chosen creamy, wall to wall carpet.  She had enough hardwood floors to keep clean everywhere else.  The walls were  forest green, the furniture and accents shades of cream and green.  Her decorator had said she'd had nightmares over this room, but it was exactly as Elise wanted it.

Deep in thought, she didn't hear Reed step out of the bedroom and into the doorway of the den.  She was unprepared for the jolt of pure, scorching lust that flashed through her when she looked up to see him watching her.  Lord, it'd been a long time since a man had had
that
affect on her.  She schooled her features to something besides a drooling idiot.

There he stood, framed in the doorway.  The clean smell of shaving creme and soap drifted to her.  His damp hair had been given a token combing but curled with a mind of its own.  Don's jeans fit him as though tailor made, but the oxford shirt pulled across his shoulders so the top few buttons had to be left open.  The
vee
created there exposed dark curls against a tanned chest and a collarbone so well-defined Elise had to fight the urge to trace the outline with her fingertips.  She continued to stare, not caring if she looked like a starving woman within reach of a banquet.

Reed braced both hands on the frame of the door and leaned forward.  The shirt stretched tight across his broad chest and taut stomach.  He smiled with a look of ecstasy.

"That," he declared with enthusiasm, "was one of the most relaxing experiences I have ever enjoyed.  Folding myself into a hip bath never felt so wonderful."

He let go of the door frame and ambled into the room.  The blood raced through her veins when he looked at her, a soft smile on his lips.

He began to roam around the room, taking in all the modern conveniences.  Elise hopped up from the couch and followed him as he circled the room.  She began to explain what she could about all these "new-fangled inventions," breathing deeply of his clean, masculine scent.  Lord, her soap had never smelled so good.

She explained the light switches and wall sockets and pointed out a cordless telephone.  She dialed the time and temperature number and let him listen.  Of course, he had to try it himself after that.  She opened the wet bar and showed him the bar-sized refrigerator.  She flipped on the stereo and filled the room with music, then switched it off and opened the cabinet that held the TV.  When she reached for the "on" button she positioned herself so she had a perfect view of Reed's face.

He didn't disappoint her.

When the picture expanded onto the screen his head jerked back several inches.  Bewilderment captured and held his features.  He turned to Elise, then back to the TV, then back to Elise.

The movie on the television was an old, black and white Errol Flynn swashbuckler that had been colorized.  Reed watched a ship pull alongside another.  Errol Flynn swung across the ocean onto the other ship and began one of his infamous sword battles.  Reed turned once again to Elise and shook his head.  He managed to utter "How...?"

She didn't even try to pretend she knew the workings of a television set.  She described how most of the things were shows, like a play only filmed with cameras - descendents of the daguerreotype - that took moving pictures.  She didn't get into the concepts of commercials, talk shows, news broadcasts, or any other kind of show.  Even if she knew the intricate workings of a television, Reed would never be able to understand the technology.

After he recovered from the biggest part of his shock, he continued around the room.  He stopped at the bookshelves, glanced over the titles of several books and commented that none of them were familiar to him.  Moving on and finishing the circuit of the room, he ended up in front of the cold fireplace.

Elise sank to the carpet, then curled up her legs and patted the floor for him to do the same.

He looked self-conscious, but lowered himself to the floor - apparently not an area of the house he was used to occupying.  It took several attempts at repositioning to make himself comfortable.

"Why don't you kick off your boots?  I'm not a real formal person, as you've probably noticed."  Elise shoved the back of one Reebok with her toe, then repeated the action on the other shoe.  She wiggled her toes for a minute then jumped up and grabbed the heel of Reed's boot.

"Here.  I'll help you.  I know you guys wouldn't even take off your jacket, let alone boots, in front of a woman."

"Here, now!" Reed yelped, but the first boot was already off and she had the other in her hands.  She wondered if he felt the same surge of heat at their touch as she did.

  It wasn't long before he began to relax.  Even though he’d managed to retain an outward calm during the day, inside he had to feel like every nerve in his body was screaming.  At least that's the way she would feel, and his next words confirmed it.

"My mind feels as though it is tearing in two, both from denying even the most remote possibility of my being catapulted into the future, and knowing without a doubt that I am unargueably not in my own time."

Elise nodded with sympathy and tossed him a couple of throw pillows.  He followed her lead.  Propped in a semi-reclining position, he tried to get comfortable.

"Tell me about yourself, Elise.  Maybe
your
story will shed some light on my being here."

Elise was hesitant with talking about herself, but she could see Reed's point.  Perhaps their paths had been destined to cross.

She focused on a spot on the wall and began her story, explaining that she was an only child and that her parents, Philip and Anne Gerard, were both deceased.

"My mother died of breast cancer when I was fifteen, and Dad  never got over the grief.  He really tried to be the father he had been before Mom's death, but grief nearly consumed him.  Three years after Mom died, Dad was found dead in his office.  A heart attack was the official cause.  I believe he willed himself to die.

"Being eighteen and the only living relative of my parents, I inherited everything.  It wasn't a lot, but it was enough to get me through college."  Afterward, she'd gone straight into her chosen field.  She skimmed over this area, unprepared to explain Air Force pilot training and all that came after it.

She moved on and mentioned how she'd come to buy this house. 

"It was rumored the original family was ready to sell.  There were several heirs, and none of them lived in New Orleans.  Most of the furniture was still here, in the exact same places their ancestors had chosen.  It spoke so vividly of the respect for their heritage that I decided then and there to buy everything and leave it as it was."  With the money she'd stockpiled while in the service and her job with the airline, she was more than able to qualify for any loan.

"I immediately contacted the family, confirmed the rumor, and negotiated a deal we were all happy with."

The antebellum period had always held a fascination for her. She'd even joked that she must have been a Southern belle in a previous life.

"I tried to leave the house as close to the mid-1800's as I could, but I had to have a few modern touches."

She realized as she spoke that the original family whose heirs had scattered over the country must have been some of Reed's descendents.  Since he failed to question her about this, she moved swiftly ahead and continued to direct her narrative to the spot on the wall.

As she talked she touched on the fact that she'd never been married but had been engaged once.  She'd broken off the engagement but didn't elaborate on that or any other relationship.

When she got around to confessing that she was thirty-one she rolled her head sideways to gauge Reed's reaction to this little tidbit of news.

She didn't know whether to laugh or sigh at the sight that confronted her.

Reed had been unusually quiet during most of her monologue.  Now he reclined, half-buried in the pillows, his right arm thrown behind his head, and at the moment enjoyed a very deep sleep.

"My, my, Gerard.  Aren't we the fascinating conversationalist?"

Smiling, she turned on her side.  The rise and fall of his chest and the clean line of his jaw held her rapt attention.  She took her time examining his face.  She could look at those devastating features all night.  The classic, chiseled lines looked so boyish in sleep.

Her body began to relax, so she closed her eyes for a few moments to relieve the burning. 
Just a few minutes, then I'll wake him up and we'll go to our beds.   Geez, I must be nuts.

CHAPTER FOUR

A glaring light on the other side of her eyelids forced Elise out of her sleep.

Her first thought was that she'd forgotten to close the room-darkening shades again.  But before the thought was complete, she realized she wasn't scrunched in her cozy bed.  This had to be the hardest hotel bed she'd ever slept on, and with her job, she had a lot to compare it with.

Reality crept into her mind, and her eyes flew open.  She held her breath and blinked away the remaining vestiges of sleep.  Sure enough, lying comfortably across from her, one arm flung across his eyes and the other resting on his very taut stomach, slept the impossible visitor of the day before.

Now, in the light of a new day, the whole story seemed insane.  Elise panicked.  She had to get to her tear gas again, as quickly and quietly as possible.  But as she inched herself up onto her elbows, the stranger across from her lifted his arm from his face, stretched, and opened his electric blue eyes.

Bewilderment clouded those eyes, then as he caught her movement and turned his head to gaze at her, he let out a long, frustrated sigh. 

"So, it is true.  It was not a dream."

Elise tried to keep the nervousness out of her voice.  "No, I guess it wasn't." 

They stared at each other as the seconds dragged by.  A clock ticking somewhere in the house seemed to boom in the silence.   Elise got to her feet and made her way to the door, picking up a few cushions along the way and tossing them back onto the couch.

"I, uh, I guess I'll go make some coffee," she said as she finally reached the door.  She made a beeline for her purse and clipped the canister of tear gas to the inside of her pocket.  Reason told her he had been a perfect gentleman the day before, and she obviously survived the night without getting her throat slit.  But caution told her that if she was dealing with a nut she couldn't rely on past behavior.

In the kitchen she slid the coffee holder into the Mr. Coffee and wondered whether or not to call the police.  How could she explain that she'd let him spend the night?  She felt, rather than heard him come into the room.  When she whirled around he jumped back just in time to keep from bumping noses with her.

"Do you have to hover?" Elise snapped, unnerved and irritated by his unexpected, close proximity.

"Elise, I must offer you my apologies.  What I did was unforgivable, but I can only hope that you will take into account the circumstances and somehow find it in your heart to make allowances."  Reed's face was both stoic and repentant.

A chill snaked up her spine, and she slowly moved her hand to cover her tear gas. 

"What circumstances?  What are you talking about?"  She couldn't begin to explain away the strange emptiness his apology created.  What kind of trick had he played on her, and why?

Reed glanced into her narrowed eyes, then studied the floor.  As he spoke, he looked up at her every now and then, as if to gauge her reaction.

"I fell asleep last night on the floor of your study, and as God is my witness, I did not realize you were asleep, too.  I have never compromised a woman in my life, and I can only try to excuse my behavior by saying that I was exhausted.  Had I not been in that physical state I never would have allowed myself to spend the night in there beside you."

It took several seconds for the meaning of his words to seep into her twentieth century brain.  When it did, she went limp with relief.

"You've got to be kidding.  Good grief, I thought you'd actually done something.  Believe me, in this day and age, falling asleep on the same floor with a woman several feet away is definitely not going to compromise her.  Now that I think about it, there's not much of anything that compromises a woman today."