Chapter 17

Rain and sleet pelted the old windows as Highland House weathered a winter storm. Sam tried to block out the frightening sounds, telling herself she was safe in Robert’s big house. There must have been countless storms like this one in Highland’s long history. Nevertheless, when the lights flickered and threatened to quit, she clutched Robert’s robe tighter and grabbed her trusty flashlight.

Needing a distraction, she focused on the books strewn across her bed. She snatched one up and opened it to a well-read page. She grabbed another and another until something registered. All of my favorite books remind me of Robert. A smoldering kiss on a snowy winter’s night. A romantic fireside tryst. The family man who would do anything for the ones he loved. All heroes in love with heroines who never quite fit in. The discovery had her tearing up. “I love you,” she whispered, wishing she could tell him.

When had it happened? Was it love at first sight as Amelia suggested? Or had it grown over time, what precious little they’d shared? Maybe it has always been, she decided with a pensive smile. There was rightness to the way Robert made her feel. Like something deep down—almost to a cellular level—as if being with him was exactly where she belonged.

A violent gust of wind shook the house as if to mock her. More whistled down the chimney, blowing a ghostly cloud of dust and debris into the room. A startling thud followed. Sam peeked over the edge of the bed. A blackened bundle lay on the cold floor of the hearth. She approached it cautiously, poking it with her toe. Wrapped in heavy cloth and bound with leather strapping, it was undoubtedly old. She sat cross-legged on the floor to open it. A stack of yellowed envelopes spilled into her lap.

Opening one, she traced the handwriting penned with pen and ink. Her eyes widened when she read the first line. ‘To my dearest Mr. Godfrey, Malcom, my love…’

“No way,” Sam blurted out. She flipped the page, looking for a signature. ‘Devoted to you, Olivia’

“Holy shit! Olivia Pennington and Godfrey?”

She devoured the letter, pouring over the plans for ‘their children.’

“Oh my God, Amelia and Charles are Godfrey’s children with Olivia? I wonder if Robert knows.”

The children were never to be sent away, despite what ‘the brute’ wanted. Who’s the brute? Surely not Robert. It must be his father, Albert. Olivia vowed to fight him until her dying day, making sure the children remained close to their ‘true father.’

Sam poured over the other letters, all written by Olivia. They chronicled a tragic story of forbidden love, secret rendezvous,’ and a lifetime of happiness denied by Olivia’s unwavering dedication to society’s harsh rules. Her father had married her off to a rich man despite her love for a working man—Malcom Godfrey. They’d shared a clandestine love affair lasting decades, with him remaining close to her the only way he could—through service to the family. The two youngest Pennington children were the result.

The final letter was different, written in another’s hand. It was Godfrey’s good-bye to the woman he’d selflessly dedicated his life to. Sam read it many times, soaking up the pain of his words. He’d done all he could to help Olivia’s remaining child. Robert was like a son to him, too, but with him dead there was no reason to remain at Highland House. Godfrey swore to take their secret to his grave. He would never shame Olivia. Unable to destroy the only evidence of their love, he promised to hide her letters well.

Sam hugged the last letter to her chest, sniffling. The story was epic, two people, so close and yet so far apart. Under the same roof, even. She and Robert shared a similar fate, only something even more unforgiving separated them. A chasm of time.

She lost her battle with tears as the knowledge that one more person’s life would be ruined if she couldn’t save them all. It chilled her to her very soul. Godfrey and Olivia’s secret had remained hidden for well over a century, surviving in some niche in the chimney until falling practically into her lap. But why? Was she meant to discover the letters for some reason?

With a sad sigh, she slipped the bundle into her bedside table. Her wishing stone rattled in the drawer. She stared at the stone. Make a wish, her heart sang with hope. You’re a fool, her mind stepped in, reminding her it had never worked.

A wish? She scoffed at the childish notion. “I need a hell of a lot more than a wish.”

Huffing in resignation, she snatched up the stone and closed her eyes. Smooth and familiar, it nested in her palm like the hand of a trusted friend. “Please, just this once. Grant my wish. Let me save Robert. Let me save them all.”

She waited, praying to feel the earth move, or the air change, anything. She eased her eyes open, but there was nothing. Exhausted, she slipped the stone into the pocket of Robert’s robe and crawled into bed. Her covers were freezing now, and she shivered. Even her stomach was bothering her again. It was going to be a very long night.

With her trusty flashlight in hand, she hoped Highland House could protect her from the storm. And the gnawing fear in her heart.

****

Ice-cold wetness prickled Sam’s bare feet as she struggled to remember how she’d gotten out on the front lawn. Rain fell in silvery sheets, soaking through her robe and pajamas. She ran toward the house. It was dark with only a dim glow coming from the parlor windows. Her heart leapt at the sight of Robert standing on the porch. She waved and called out, but he turned and went inside.

Barking rose above the sound of the falling rain, and she spun around to catch a glimpse of a dog disappearing beyond the tree line. Amelia’s dog! The front door opened, and Robert emerged again, dressed in his long black coat. He carried a lantern, marching straight toward her.

“Robert?” she called, yet he pushed past as if she were invisible. Dim light from the lantern served as her guide, and she followed him into the woods. Razor-like branches swiped at her face. The ground turned to muck.

“Wait,” Sam cried, realizing she was losing him.

Her hand went for the flashlight in the wet folds of her pocket. White light blazed from it. She flailed around, looking for the path. A steep incline stopped her. Sounds of a churning sea rose up on the wind. Salt air mingled with the rain.

Sam shrank back from the drop. “Where are you?” she grumbled, searching for an alternative route. Her heart stopped. “Oh my God, the boathouse!”

Lunging forward, she slipped and tripped her way down to the water’s edge. She dropped the flashlight, losing it. The boathouse was there though—dark and menacing. The door was open when she got there, and Sam slipped inside.

“Robert?” Her voice trembled with fear. Heavy rain drummed the tin roof above. “You need to get out of here. This is not a good place,” she yelled louder.

She saw him then, on the far side of the building. Light from the lantern circled his form like a halo. He was working his way alongside boats. They bobbed and swayed in inky black water, straining the ropes that tethered them. Deep in a corner was Amelia’s frightened little dog.

“Robert,” Sam screamed. She rushed toward him, tripping over obstacles in the dark. “It’s not safe. You have to go.” She was almost to him. Just a couple of more yards…

He swayed, lurching over boxes and moorings to reach the cowering dog.

Sam suddenly remembered something from their night in the parlor…the laudanum, the alcohol… “No, Robert, stop!”

With one final teetering step, he fell. The lantern smashed to the wooden deck igniting a fire that engulfed him. Robert’s screams mingled with Sam’s as the flames rose up around them.

****

Sam shot up in bed, the scream still on her lips. She gasped for air. Her frantic gaze flew around the room. My room! Not the boathouse! Taking several gulping breaths, she fought to steady her pounding heart. It’s a dream. Only a dream. The recurring nightmare had finally played itself out. Images of Robert she could never un-see. Flames. Smoke. Her world ending in a flash of light as the fire took him. She convulsed into hysterical sobs.

A strong gust of wind shook the entire house, shocking her back to life. The power was out, her alarm clock flashing like the lights of a police car. “The storm,” she croaked. She put a hand to her face, and gasped. It smelled of smoke. But how if it was a dream? Pounding rain from the Nor’easter beat inside her brain. Two storms. Two nights. I was there, and now I’m here.

“What if he’s out there?”

She was up in an instant, racing through the dark house.

Yanking open the heavy door, Sam ran into the storm. The muddy lawn swallowed up her feet when she paused, looking for a sign, anything to help her find him. There was no boathouse in her time. It had never been rebuilt. But what if she was wrong?

A faint light in the distance caught her eye, and she took off. Hope died when she slid to a halt in front of the Carriage House Theater. An emergency exit sign glowed red despite the power being out. It was an automatic thing—a safety precaution—powered by a backup generator.

She dissolved into racking sobs, giving herself over to the relentless storm.

****

“Find me the master. At once,” Godfrey snapped at the maidservant gawking next to him.

Robert was soon there cradling Samantha where she lay in a puddle on the floor—pale as death and shivering.

Her eyes flew open, and she clawed at him with desperate hands. “You’re alive. But you can’t be. I saw you die.”

“I’m right here,” he swore, attempting to calm her. Robert looked to the horrified faces of those around him. “How did she get here?”

Emma, the maid, spoke up. “I just opened the door, and she fell in.”

“Take her upstairs, dear boy,” Godfrey insisted. “Quickly. I’ll bring you what you need.”

Samantha struggled when Robert swept her up. “Wait, you have to listen!” She reached for the butler. “Tell him, Godfrey, please.”

“Yes, miss.” He grabbed her outstretched hand trying to appease her.

“I know about the children,” Samantha persisted.

The butler faltered, meeting her panicked eyes.

“You’ve got to keep them safe. Please, help me. If you don’t, they’ll all die.”

Godfrey went ghostly white, sinking into a nearby chair.

Robert didn’t hesitate. He carried Samantha to his room. “Hush now,” he soothed as he lowered her to his bed. Prying her blue hands free from his coat, he covered her quaking body and held her. Godfrey was soon there with more blankets. He met the older man’s gaze, panicked when Samantha shivered as if convulsing. “She looks near death. A few more moments out there…”

“It’s all right, my boy. She’ll not leave you. Of that I’m sure.” Godfrey squeezed his shoulder before going to stoke the fire.

Robert stared at the terrifying scene before him. Never had he felt so helpless. He cupped Samantha’s cheek, cursing the angry scratches he found there. Her skin was clammy, feverish beneath the waning chill.

Her eyes opened slowly, staring at him. “You’re here,” she rasped.

“Yes, I’m with you.” He forced a smile although happiness was the farthest thing from what he felt. “You must rest. I’ve sent for the doctor.”

“No…” she moaned.

“None of this.” His resolve hardened. “You shall do as I say.”

Samantha stared at him through blood shot eyes. “The boathouse… Don’t go there. Please.” She burrowed into his chest, clutching his shirt in her fists.

“I’ll go nowhere near the blasted place. You have my word. Now rest.” He felt her body go slack as she fell into exhausted slumber.

Robert released the breath he’d been holding. Watching over Samantha, he was utterly lost for what to do next.

****

“Good shot,” Eddie exclaimed as he walked alongside Robert. Amelia’s dog and a lad ran ahead to retrieve the downed bird.

“It’s the first bloody thing I’ve hit all morning,” Robert complained.

Eddie laughed. “Well, you can’t always be good. What’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing.”

Eddie gave him a sideways glance. “Your charming maid, Emma, told me there was quite a commotion here last night. Something about you plucking a woman from the clutches of death. A romantic tale, indeed.”

Robert said nothing as they traipsed through the tall grass of the lower fields hunting for more birds.

“Is it true then? Did you rescue some damsel in distress?”

“Samantha. She’s in my bed right now. Godfrey and Emma are looking after her until she wakes.”

“Oh, do tell. Such a lovely bit of fluff to land in one’s bed.”

Robert spun on him. “You are talking about the woman I intend to marry. Guard your words.”

Eddie looked stunned until he gave a holler. He slapped Robert on the back. “Now this is big news. No wonder you’re out of sorts. Why wasn’t I informed?”

“Because I haven’t asked her yet. And I’d like to keep it a secret until she’s well enough.”

“Good God, man, you can’t expect to keep something like this quiet. You’re the most eligible bachelor in the northeast. Aside from me, that is.” Eddie’s complexion paled. “Rebecca will be livid. I must plan another excursion immediately. A solid year perhaps. Maybe longer.”

Robert leaned against a boulder to rest. “There’s a problem.”

“Of course. With you, there’s always a problem. What now?”

“I’m going to tell you something, and you must keep it in the strictest confidence. Do you understand?”

“Yes, yes, of course, now spill it.”

“Samantha is not like us.”

“Oh blast, you’re the last one to care about all that society rubbish. Times are changing. With your money and connections—”

“No.” Robert took his friend head on. “I’m only telling you this because I need your advice. You’re the one with the scientific mind.” Robert took a steadying breath. “Samantha is not from here. What I mean is…she has time travelled to our present day from many years in the future. Over one hundred thirty years to be precise. We don’t know why or how it happens. There’s a time portal, but it’s sporadic. This time I found her on my doorstep near death. I swear, I’ll never let it happen again. I will protect her, and I need your help.”

Eddie stared at him as if he’d stepped into a pit of snakes. “You’re right, there is a problem. You’re completely mad!”

The two men returned to the house, arguing the consequences of marriage, and madness, and if time travel even existed. They paused in the foyer when confronted by a woman’s shrill screams.

“What the devil is going on here?” Robert demanded when Emma ran up and fell at his feet.

The maid clung to his legs, wailing, “She’s a ghost.”

A stab of fear pierced Robert’s heart. “What? Where is she?”

The maid screamed again, pointing as Samantha materialized in front of them.

“Dear Lord,” Eddie cried, dropping his gun and exploding a shot into the ceiling.

Robert groaned as bits of plaster rained down on them. He rushed to Samantha, catching her as she crumbled to the floor.

“What in the name of high heaven is going on here?” Eddie shouted.

“I’ve been trying to tell you,” Robert said through gritted teeth. “She time travels. It’s happening again. You saw. Now listen—”

“But…but…the woman just appeared. Out of nowhere!”

“Yes, and she’s frightened enough without you yelling.”

“I’m not yelling,” Eddie yelled again.

“Whatever it is you’re doing, stop.” He focused on Samantha again, rocking her. “It’s all right. I’ve got you.”

Eddie looked on in horror. “Fine then, you’re both mad.”