Isabeau jerked upright as a deep breath inflated her lungs.
"What's happening? Is she having convulsions?" The voices were faint, then gradually louder.
"Where the hell is 911?" Leif.
Isabeau opened weighted lids, her eyes huge dark pools in an otherwise ashen face.
She looked up into the concerned faces of Leif and Mrs. Cummin's.
"I'm okay," she croaked reassuringly. Realizing she was back in the present time, she began to cry. "I'm okay."
"Pierce is on his way. I've called him," Mrs. Cummins said, her voice growing faint again.
"Isabeau? Isabeau?" Leif's voice faded also.
#
"Pierce . . .." Isabeau murmured, snuggling into the bed covers. She woke abruptly, blinking several times at the bright sunlight weaving a path into her room. Her room at Hawk's Den.
Lying perfectly still, she gazed around the room.
The digital alarm clock read 11:45. She was back in her own time.
After a soft knock, her bedroom door opened slowly.
Leif put his head around the door. Seeing she was awake he walked slowly into the room. "Still in bed, well that's good. After that scare last night, you'd better continue to take it easy. I agree with the doctor, you're exhausted -- too many long hours, run down. You've slept since yesterday. I guess you really needed it."
Leif handed her a robe and she wandered over to the window, staring pensively at the familiar yard below. How many times had she looked out this window in 1894?
The gardens were neat and well manicured, the flowers abundant, drooping after the heavy rains. She shook her head, running a hand over her forehead. Memories from the past and the present had merged, leaving her confused.
"You really threw me for a loop, Isabeau," Leif admitted, "passing out like that."
"H-how long was I out?" She pulled at the collar of her robe. "Everything is still kind of hazy."
"Not long, I guess, ten minutes or so --"
Ten minutes! She had lived a month in the other time. Enough time to fall deeply in love with Pierce.
"-- so I suggest you take it easy."
She nodded.
"Pierce called again while you were upstairs. He had a problem with his flight, but he's expected in a few hours."
Isabeau jerked her head around. "He's coming?"
Leif laughed, as if she'd said something funny. "Of course."
She twisted her fingers around the robe's belt. What if he didn't remember her or the time they'd spent together? She clenched her jaw. She'd make him remember. But what if she couldn't?
Running her fingers along her scalp, Isabeau was astonished to discover her hair was still long, down over her shoulders. She had been so distraught the night before, she hadn't thought about it until this moment.
She ran to the bureau mirror and stared at her reflection, at the uncut, blonde swathe of hair. How odd -- the haircut Lila had given her had not transferred to this time.
"What's the matter?" Leif appeared at her shoulder.
"My hair --" Isabeau touched the light strands disbelievingly.
"All it needs is a good brushing," he reassured her. "You've got some serious bed head going on."
"Thanks," she said dryly, still staring at her reflection. Leif was looking at her strangely. "Maybe I should cut it," she mumbled lamely.
"Well, don't go and do anything rash," he said.
After he left, Isabeau rehashed all the events of 1894.
Was it all just a wonderful, wonderful dream? She couldn't shake the feeling of being out of sync, as if she was somehow displaced in her own world.
Where did she fit in?
Isabeau pulled the neckline of her robe closer, her fingers encountering something hard and warm at her breastbone.
Heart in her throat, she pulled the chain free. In fascination she turned over the gold locket, then closed her fingers tightly around it as hope surged in her.
Hands shaking with excitement and her cheeks flushed and hot, Isabeau quickly dressed in jeans and a T-shirt and ran downstairs to the library. Almost in a panic she searched for the Bible, then finally saw it high on a shelf.
She pulled the step ladder from the corner of the room and climbed the steps so she could reach the top shelf. Carefully, she lifted the volume down to place it flat on the desk surface. Slowly she turned page after page until she found what she was looking for.
'Deaths.' Hawk Morgan. September 21, 1934. Excited, she flipped back a page to 'Marriages.' The writing was a faded brown, as if it had been there a hundred years.
Hawk Morgan and Amelia Rymes, married June 30, 1894, issue of marriage, four children…
Isabeau closed the volume. Her trembling subsided, and peace stole over her. They had managed to change history. Hawk had survived, and there were others to carry on the Morgan name. She felt as if a lifetime of tension had fallen from her shoulders. Whatever happened from here on in, she could deal with it. Rubber soles squeaked on the hallway's marble floor. She went to the door and met Mrs. Cummins.
"Do you know where the family records are, Mrs. Cummins?"
"Most of the records are right here in these cabinets." Mrs. Cummins opened a small closet. When she stepped back Isabeau saw the metal file cabinets lined up side by side.
"Leif said Pierce is on his way home," Isabeau said carefully, hardly able to contain her excitement.
"Yes, and I'm thankful. Imagine if he had missed his own engagement party."
Mrs. Cummins could have no idea of the crushing nature of her words. Isabeau watched numbly as the older woman laid out several folders.
"If you like you can rummage in here. I'll let you know when they arrive home."
"They?" Isabeau asked numbly.
"Pierce and his parents."
"His parents?" Isabeau couldn't help repeating what she heard. She felt panic welling inside. Everything was changing. Nothing was familiar. As far as she knew his father had died years before.
"Well, not just his mother and father -- but his brothers and sisters also." Mrs. Cummins hesitated, then added, "If you recall, they're all coming for the party."
Isabeau didn't know what to say. Her heart felt squeezed tight. Pierce was getting engaged. "For some reason I thought there was only his mother."
"Good heavens, no. Mr. Pierce's parents have been married some thirty-five years and there's six others besides Mr. Pierce."
"Oh," Isabeau said faintly. "Thank you, Mrs. Cummins."
The housekeeper turned to leave, but stopped by the door and turned back. "By the way, miss, you never did tell me if you're leaving right after the engagement party or not."
"Yes, yes, I'm leaving." God! She couldn't stay around and watch Pierce become engaged to another woman.
Feverishly, Isabeau looked through the record books. There were various articles on Virginia, Hawk's Den, and the surrounding county. But one article in particular drew her attention. It was a newspaper account of a fire that destroyed a cottage on the Sanderly estate in the year 1894. Inside the cottage they found the charred remains of Treat Sanderly, said to have been the illegitimate half-brother to Hawk Morgan. There was no mention of Mrs. Sanderly. In with that article was a notice of the marriage of Hawk and Amelia. She caught her breath in amazement at the grainy but rather well done photograph of the time. Hawk looked so much like Pierce with his lovely bride Amelia next to him! Malry stood with the couple, the bride and groom suitably serious. Malry wore a half grin and Isabeau again saw the seaman she had first met aboard The Lady.
#
Isabeau wanted to leave right away, but she couldn't find Leif. She grabbed her camera from her room and walked around the back of the house.
Pierce was engaged. It hurt her like hell to think about it, but perversely, she couldn't stop thinking about it. She'd found him against all odds and lost him not once but now twice. Anguished, she wondered why she had she been allowed to remember. She stopped suddenly, hope leaping inside. Could Pierce be engaged to her? Could this be another time warp? No, she had just arrived a day ago. They technically had not even met in this time.
She needed to see Pierce one more time, then she must leave.
Isabeau stood in the back gardens, raising her camera as a dark bird flew into the sky, straight up into the sun. She lowered the camera and turned, catching her breath as pain shafted across her breastbone.
Pierce stood behind her.
He wore black jeans, white shirt and a light grey jacket; and she couldn't take her eyes from him. He didn't say anything, just gave her a welcoming smile.
Isabeau closed her eyes, clutching the camera to her breast. The shutter clicked once again. Dazed, she relaxed her grip, then slowly, slowly, she brought the camera up and took his picture.
The thoughts in her head were crazy, she knew it. She wanted to run before he spoke a word and said something that told her he no longer remembered they loved each other.
She drank in the sight of him, the wide shoulders, warm blue eyes, rakish dark hair falling over his brow. His hair was shorter. He was the man she loved with all her heart.
"Sweetheart, I've been looking for you."
Isabeau sagged in relief.
"Sorry I'm late, but I finally made it."
Shaking the hair back from her eyes, she said softly, "I'm glad you're back."
"Did you finish the job?"
"Job?" she repeated, perplexed.
"The commission for the Virginia Wildlife Society."
She was losing it; she didn't know what he was talking about.
"I saw the pictures you spread out in the salon. You must be just about finished. They're flawless. I know Mrs. Forrester will be very pleased."
Mrs. Forrester? Isabeau backed away from him, afraid she would break down. She couldn't take any more. "I-I have to go."
"Wait, Isabeau -- go where?" He came after her.
"Home."
"This is your home," he said, suddenly strained.
That stopped her in her tracks. Slowly, she spun on her heel to face him. Dear God, she prayed, don't let this be a sick cosmic joke.
"We discussed this. We're going to live here after we're married."
"Married?" she squeaked.
"What's the matter, sweetheart? Don't you remember?"
She saw a sudden comprehension on his face.
"Isabeau." The gravelly whisper tore at her with its familiarity. He took the final step and his arms enfolded her slowly, as if he wasn't sure how she would react.
"Sweetheart -- I understand, I understand now. I hope you're going to tell me you remember everything. You looked so shocked, as if you didn't know me." He leaned back. "Mrs. Cummins told me you passed out while I was gone. My God, I wanted to be here when this happened -- and I was away. You've been to 1894, haven't you?"
She frowned in confusion. "You didn't know?"
"Isabeau, think about it. When you disappeared in 1894, I never knew what date you reentered this life. How could either of us know since this hadn't happened yet?"
"You're right!" she exclaimed. "I thought you were engaged to someone else when Mrs. Cummins talked about your engagement party."
"There's only you." He paused."I don't want to overwhelm you, but our family history has changed. I know you may not recall what's happened since we met in this time, but I'm hoping you'll want to pick up where we left off. Because of the way history was rewritten, we actually met six months ago."
Incredibly, from an inner jacket pocket Pierce withdrew a small book, its edges worn and bent. "I've carried this every day since I came back and found it again."
Eyes wide, Isabeau looked at the gold strap, then up into his face.
"But Mrs. Cummins asked me if I was leaving right after the party --" Isabeau said in confusion.
"I had told her we might drive to DC to deliver your photographs."
"Okay," she said slowly. "The photographs in the salon?
"No."
With a grin Pierce grabbed her hand and pulled her with him across the hallway into his office. Furniture on the right side of the room had been removed and replaced with several easels depicting various enlarged photographs.
She fell back against him in disbelief, emotion clogging her throat. "Pierce, these are my pictures from 1894. How --"
"I don't know for sure, but I'm thinking Malry had a hand in it. I found your developed pictures when I was going through some estate records that turned up in the attic about six months ago. The photographs had been carefully and I'd say, professionally, stored."
Isabeau walked up to the easels, staring in wonder at the collection of photographs. The seamen aboard The Lady, Pierce as Hawk Morgan, Malry with a heavy scowl, Lila and Megan, James, the photos she'd taken of New York City. All the pictures she had taken in another time. There was even a picture of her aboard The Lady, as she looked out to sea. In wonder, she pointed to that picture.
"Not as good as your pictures," he said, "but I took that of you on the way to New York."
"Where are we taking them?" she asked.
"There's a lab in DC that specializes in antique photographs. They're going to enlarge them for your show."
"Wow, I've been busy," she said, faintly dazed. She began to laugh. "How will the show be presented? Obviously, I can't be called the original photographer."
"You listed it as a private collection from the Morgan family estates."
Isabeau shook her head, still bemused. "I'm trying to catch up here." She stared at him in shock. "Pierce, how have you managed to adjust so well when I'm still feeling confused?"
"I returned five years ago," he said.
He gripped her arm when she swayed. "Five years?"
"When you disappeared that last day I began to record it in the journal." He placed the worn journal on the desk surface. "I had the ring you tried to give me. Belva came running into the house all excited. Malry, Hawk and Amelia had arrived."
"Did you meet Hawk?" she asked barely above a whisper.
Pierce had a faraway look in his eyes. "Our glances met for the barest second as I was pulled out of there. The journal remained even though I held tightly to it. I have to think Hawk left it for me to find."
"I'm astonished we ended up in the right place," she said softly.
His eyes met hers. "What's more amazing is I had no idea when this would happen. You and Leif had been to Hawk's Den several times." He gripped her shoulders. "I know this is damned confusing to you. I've certainly had more time to prepare for it than you have."
"The renovations --"
"For us. For our children. I began them three years ago."
"So you waited all this time for me to arrive?"
"It would take more than going through time to forget you." He pulled her close and kissed her. She wound her arms around him, holding on tightly, knowing things could have turned out so differently.
"No one would believe it, would they?" she asked dreamily, leaning her head back against his arm.
"Not a soul," Pierce agreed. "I need to fill you in on the rest of our history."
She snuggled against him. "Mrs. Cummins mentioned you have a whole pack of siblings and your father is alive. I've never heard more wonderful news." She looked up at him. "But tell me what happened when you arrived back here."
"When we talked about this in 1894, the last I knew was my life in 2007. What I didn't know was that I was in a coma because of a car accident."
"Oh, my God, I could have lost you. Is that why you had no memory?"
"Possibly. When I returned here, there was no immediate memory of 1894 either. It took about a month and it all came flooding back. One night, I woke up and drove to Hawk's Den. That's when I found the journal. I'm not trying to scare you, but I became obsessed. I couldn't suddenly arrive in your life and expect everything to fall into place. Besides being too young, you weren't the person you are today."
Isabeau frowned, trying to understand. "So when you woke in 1894, it was from a coma state in your present time?"
"Yes, that's all I can tell you. The rest I've tried to piece together, but a lot of it is guessing."
She looked up suddenly, struck by a crazy notion. "Could anything have changed in my family while I've been gone?" Then she shook her head. "No." She gripped his hand. "Have you met my mom? Is she okay?"
"She's fine. Your mom drove from the airport with me."
Excited, Isabeau hugged him. "Oh my gosh, that's wonderful. I've so missed her. Everything is complete. I have everything I love right here."She smiled at him. "Everyone I love."
"It's only the beginning, sweetheart." He grabbed her hand and pulled her from the room. "Come and meet the family." He laughed. "Again."
Â