After a large bowl of Emily's delicious potato soup, cheddar biscuits and two lemon bars, I felt as if I could have rolled home. I stepped inside and found Edward waiting to greet me in the entryway. He was wearing his signature, fatherly glower.
I put up a hand as I walked past him. "Save the lecture. It's a quiet country road. We no longer have to worry about cutthroats lingering in the shadows, waiting to rob innocent women of their satchels."
"It's been dark for two hours," he said. "And you're wrong about the cutthroats. You, of all people, know how prevalent murder is in this town. You might as well be living in Australia with all the convicts and cast-offs."
"First of all, Australia is no longer the dumping ground for the British Empire. In fact, it's a popular tourist destination with all its cute koalas and shrimp on the barbies."
"I see we've begun the nonsense portion of the evening." Edward followed me into the kitchen.
The dogs gave me a half-hearted greeting before trotting off to bed. "Nothing nonsensical about it. I'll show you pictures of koalas the next time I open my shiny metal box."
The heavy dinner and subsequent trudge home had left me thirsty. I filled a glass with water. I would have carried it straight into the bedroom, but it seemed Edward wasn't through for the night. We'd had little time to talk during the day. I leaned against the kitchen counter with my glass of water.
"Well?" Edward asked.
"No, faucet, actually. You're really stuck in the nineteenth century this evening."
Edward's features scrambled for a second letting me know he was thoroughly confused by the conversation. Then it dawned on me. "Oh, you weren't talking about the water." I scrutinized his expression. It had grown clearer now. "You want to know if I met Thomas McRooney. Not technically."
If it was possible for a spirit made purely of vapor to relax, I had just witnessed it.
"But I haven't given up. I think Thomas is planning on revealing himself to me."
He pretended not to be bothered by my determination, but his posture and shoulders were sharp and taut. "Do what you like. Then you can fill Thomas's head with your nonsense about kollies and shrimpbies. In fact, knowing what a lump of ridiculousness Thomas is, the two of you should get along quite well."
"I'm looking forward to meeting a ghost who isn't wound so tightly his arrogance practically seeps out. It should be quite refreshing. Maybe then I can learn all about the mysterious Kat Garfield." That was all I needed to say.
Edward swept around the room like a small, colorful tornado before stopping in front of me. "I told you that fool knows nothing about her."
I set the glass down and folded my arms. "Then tell me about her, and I won't have to go to a less reliable source."
"What is there to tell?" he floated to the window and gazed out. It was that lost gaze, the one that took him out across the fields and back to his life two hundred years ago. "We were acquainted. I felt a good degree of attachment to her and then she left to marry another man."
"A good degree of attachment? I won't consider you any less a snobbish gentleman if you admit you were in love with Kat. Tell you what—to make this easier. Just tell me about the day you two met."
"Fine," he answered so quickly I almost thought I'd imagined it.
"Really?" I asked then wanted to pull it back afraid it gave him a chance to change his mind.
"Yes, I'll tell you and then you'll realize this is all far drearier than you imagined, and you'll leave me alone about it."
"I doubt it." I slid out a chair to sit. "I'm all ears."
Edward continued to stare out the window, his past memories pulling him farther out into the wide-open world, the world where Edward Beckett was flesh and blood. The world where Edward Beckett played cards, seduced women and galloped his horse across pastures. The world where Edward Beckett fell in love.
I adjusted my top hat. The sun was always far too bright in this primitive place and that was the word for it. Yes, there were quaint cottages and I supposed if I thought about it the landscape, while untamed, was quite beautiful, but the entire village was so far removed from London, it felt as if I'd been shipped off to another world. I was sure if Father could have found a way to manage it, he would have done exactly that.
I pushed my legs into Arrow's sides. The horse picked up a brisk trot. The sun was not too hot, and if I managed to stay away from home long enough, I could avoid another endless discussion with my bloviating fool of a cousin, Cleveland Ross. I realized just a week after my arrival that my father had not sent me to Cleveland as a last resort. He knew that his cousin was as dull as he was longwinded. As if sending me an ocean away from London wasn't punishment enough, he knew my stay with Cleveland would be unbearable. I'd never heard so much useless drivel coming from one human in my entire life, and I'd spent time with some men who had no more character and wit than a ball of clay.
Horses were required to slow to a walk once they stepped onto the main road leading through town. It was such a prim rule and, yet, it matched the town perfectly, priggish and listless in every way. There were at least a few good card games to be had at the local hotel, but there was little else to keep oneself from going mad with boredom.
For the most part, the road, a dusty, pitted strip of land that ran between brambles and every manner of thorny bush, was wide enough for two people either walking or on horseback to pass without much problem. But there was one narrow strip that stretched a good fifty meters lined by enough thistle and nettle that a rider had to take care not to scratch his boots or, for that matter, his horse's legs. It was rare to meet someone coming the opposite direction in that exact spot, but, today, it seemed the odds were with me. (Perhaps I should spend the rest of the day at the card table.)
The woman in the opposing direction was walking a cow. She entered the narrowed strip just as Arrow and I entered. I was looking at the top of her wide brimmed straw bonnet as I spoke to her.
"Please reverse your cow so my horse and I can pass."
The brim of the hat lifted, and the sun delicately lit her features beneath the shade of the hat. It was rare for me to be rendered speechless by anything, but her face had done just that. In the meantime, her first glance of me had done nothing of the sort.
"I believe Bessie and I entered the narrowed path first," she said confidently. At least that was what I thought she'd said. Admittedly, I was so captivated by her plump, pink lips it was hard to know exactly what words were spoken. She continued walking toward my horse unimpeded. The cow was, however, questioning the decision as it neared Arrow. It had taken me a good month to find a horse suitable for riding. The Beckett stables had been filled with some of the finest riding horses in all of Britain. Arrow had been shipped from London by a wealthy merchant who decided he preferred to sit his round bottom in a carriage than in a saddle. I bought the gelding before I'd even taken one step on him. One thing I'd learned about my horse was that he didn't care for cows. His hooves began to dance a little and his nostrils flared in distrust. This did not deter the irritatingly determined and undeniably beautiful woman walking toward us.
I tightened the reins to keep Arrow from turning and bolting right through the thorny landscape. "I'm ashamed to have to say this, but my horse is quite the coward when it comes to cows."
Her laugh was a stunning sound, one that only a musician could duplicate. It wasn't staid and polite and practiced like all the women floating around London's balls and parties. It was a true, natural sound that I wished I could have captured in a bottle.
Her white teeth sparkled in the sunlight as she held her hat on her head and turned her face up to me. "A cowardly horse that hates cows. It sounds a little redundant. Maybe there should be a special word for being afraid of cows. I do feel for your frightened little steed, but if you would kindly back him up so that Bessie and I can continue on our way."
"It would be much easier for you to back up your cow." I was no longer arguing to get past. I was enjoying myself far too much for that, enough that I wanted to prolong the interaction. Even if Arrow was getting more agitated.
"You are quite stubborn, aren't you?" I asked.
"Yes, my father has told me that on occasion. Fortunately, I don't take it as an insult but rather a sturdy sense of knowing what I want. And you—I detect an accent. You must be the Englishman living with the Ross family. I've spoken to Bonnie Ross in town. She mentioned you were quite dapper. Though, I thought you'd be just a little more refined looking."
"Is that so? Well, I must work on that." I tipped my hat. "Edward Beckett, at your service."
"Kathy Garfield, and this is my new milking cow because the last one decided she'd much rather spend her days lazing in the pastures chewing grass than producing milk." She lifted her hand. I took immediate note that there was no wedding ring. "Now, if you'd kindly return the way you came." She smiled up at me.
I stared at her, like a bewitched fool, for a good long moment before I pressed my legs against Arrow's sides and pulled gently back on the reins. He was just as glad to be free of the large beast standing in the pathway.
I backed the horse up until the side of the road was clear of brambles and maneuvered Arrow off the path. I tipped my hat again as she strolled past. The hems of her skirts were covered in mud as she lifted them to move along faster.
"Do you live nearby?" I asked. Suddenly, the notion that I might not see her again settled heavy on me. I'd been in town for three months and had yet to see her. I was certain I would have remembered if I had crossed paths with her.
She peered at me over her shoulder. "I've got a small house off Potter's Lane. It's not quite the palace you live in with the Ross family but it's comfortable and it suits me well. Say hello to Bonnie for me. Let her know I agree. You are quite the picture."
"Unrefined as I am."
She smiled. "I've always been fond of things that were a little rough around the edges."
I held Arrow in place and watched as she disappeared down the road and around the last curve. The day had started out as always, dreary and uninteresting, but it seemed a star had fallen from the sky over Firefly Junction and I'd stumbled upon it. The question now was—how did one catch a falling star?
Edward's gaze was still riveted out the window as he finished his story.
"I love that. Thank you for telling me. I know it wasn't easy. I think I would have really liked Kat," I said.
A sort of whispered sigh ushered out of him. "She was easy to like. I think you've heard enough for one night." I sensed bringing up the memory had taken its toll on him.
"Edward, I won't ask Thomas about your courtship with Kat. And you can tell me as little or as much as you like. I do love to hear about the flesh and blood Edward Beckett."
His blue eyes had deepened in color. Always a sign that his emotions were high.
I stood up. "I think I would have liked him too," I said quietly.
With that, he vanished. I waited a second to see if he'd reappear. When he didn't, I dragged myself off to bed. Pillows and quilts were calling me.