The feel of her against him was heaven, and having her safe with him was the answer to his prayers. Jess filled his lungs with the cool, moist night air and relished the warm weight of her in his arms.
Time traveler she might be, but she was also the woman he loved. He would make her give up all those other men in other times. If he kept her busy and satisfied in bed, he figured she wouldn’t miss her own time.
Shadows masked her expression as she drew back and sighed. “I better be getting back to my place.”
“You’re coming home with me.” After the horror of seeing her in Laughlin’s clutches, there was no possibility of letting her out of his sight tonight. He offered his arm, and she placed her hand, trusting and small, in the crook, and they headed for his house.
“What about the gossips?”
“I care more about you than any gossip.” I care more about you than anything ever in my life.
A sad smile curved her lips, and he wondered at the sadness. Then she seemed to shake off her subdued mood. “So, confronting the bad guy out in the open like that sort of blows your inhibitions out of the water, huh? ” She punched his shoulder. “And what was it with you just walking in like that? You could’ve been killed.”
“I served with Laughlin for years. I knew he would have to speak his piece before he would pull the trigger. It’s his nature. Sooner or later, we were destined to fight it out.” Her hand gripped his arm harder, and he patted it reassuringly. “Besides, walking straight in was the fastest way to see you and assure myself that you were unharmed.”
“It was also the fastest way to get yourself shot.”
“But I had to see you, Corrie, right then.” He drew her into the deep blackness of the oaks. “I don’t know what I would do if I couldn’t see you.”
Corrie placed one warm hand against his cheek, then a sigh shuddered through her. “Your face is burned into my mind forever. I see you every time I close my eyes.” Pulling his head down, she kissed him, her lips holding his for a space of two heartbeats, then opening and drawing him in.
Heat exploded along his veins, and he wanted to plunge into her right now. But he reminded himself that he was a gentleman by upbringing and reined in his rampant desire. Only moments before, Corrie had been manhandled and almost raped by a thug who wanted to hurt her simply because of his hatred for Jess. He eased away and stared down at her. “I know you can’t want to make love right now. Not after what Laughlin did to you.”
“You think because that bastard tried to rape me . . . ?”
He nodded. How could she think otherwise?
“Chief, ” she stabbed him in the chest with one finger, “the mechanics of what he wanted to do and what we do together have a vague resemblance, but no way are they the same. No way!” She softened her touch and splayed her hand across his chest. “When we make love, it isn’t like anything else that has ever happened before. It’s . . . special.”
Even in the dark, he could see the darkening of her cheeks. She wasn’t prim and proper as he had once bemoaned—fool that he’d been—but she did blush. He tipped up her chin and kissed her softly. “It is special indeed.” He rimmed her lips with his tongue and grinned. “Want to do something special?”
Her answering chuckle reassured him, and they hurried to his house, barely waiting until the door closed to start stripping. Then they tumbled over each other as they climbed the stairs, unwilling to break a touch or a kiss to do so.
Finally, they fell into his bed, and he lifted his head to gaze down at her. She was so beautiful in her own freckled, spunky way, with her sparkling brown eyes and sassy mouth. He kissed her eyes and the side of that mouth, and reveled in the hitch in her breath as his hand found her nipple and rubbed its peak to pebbled hardness. Replacing his hand with his lips, he suckled there, uncertain whether the pulsing thunder in his ears was hers or his.
He placed light, teasing kisses down the underside of her breast, to her stomach, and paused briefly at her navel to circle it with his tongue.
“Jess, you’re driving me wild,” she said, her voice husky and eager.
“Just a little more, sweeting,” he murmured and drifted lower, darting his tongue into her shadowed recesses, and feeling her buck against him. She was hot and wet and musky with the scent of arousal, and he wasn’t sure how long he could exercise control.
Corrie fisted her hands in his hair and lifted his head a bit. “Please, Jess, I want you in me.”
“Good, because that’s where I want to be.” Placing a final kiss on her nether curls, he nibbled his way up her torso, then filled her tight sheath with his manhood. Her internal muscles drew on him, and soon they settled into the ancient rhythm.
Her hands were gentle on his cheeks and she whispered endearments and words of love as she kissed his chin, his throat, and nibbled his ear. He stroked in and out with exquisite hesitation, drawing out her pleasure and his. Her eyes glazed as her climax neared, her breath rasping in her chest, her hands clutching his body, her back arched.
He plunged into her faster and harder, driving them both over the edge as he whispered, “I love you, Corrie.”
Slowly, their breathing eased and she drew him down on top of her. Beside his ear, she whispered, “I love you, Jess. For all time, I will love you.”
Later, he tucked her to one side and studied her as she drifted off to sleep. While relief was foremost in his mind for her safety and wholeness, unease remained. Their lovemaking was different tonight. Oh, she still aroused him as no other woman ever had. But her kisses held a new poignancy, a desperation he had never felt before.
He had the unshakable feeling she was saying farewell.
Corrie thought the pain would kill her, but she struggled anyway. Why had Mama left her with her stepfather? She never had before tonight. Why, Mama? she raged inwardly.
Suddenly, he stopped. He slumped over her, blocking her air. She shoved against him, her hands slicking in something wet and sticky on his neck and face. Then he was pulled off her and Mama was there, crying and holding one of the big altar candlesticks.
“I’m sorry, Corrie. Oh, God, I’m so sorry.” Mama lifted her up. “Oh, God, I’m sorry he did this to you. I didn’t know, honey. I didn’t know.”
Corrie clasped her hands around Mama’s neck, sobs wracking her body and robbing her of breath. “Mama, you came. You came, Mama.”
“I’m here, honey.” Her mother rose and, settling Corrie on one hip, turned.
The fire had leapt from the altar cloth to the carpet and the red velvet curtains to one side. Flames soared to the ceiling, casting a hellish glow over the body of Corrie’s assailant. As Mama scooted around the altar and started down the stairs to the sanctuary, the man moaned. She stiffened and turned to stare at him. Then she laid her head against Corrie’s before she hurried toward the outer door.
“You’re going to be all right, Corrie. It will never happen again.” Mama set her down outside the church and knelt in front of her.
“It hurt, Mama. A whole lot,” Corrie sobbed out.
“I know, honey. But he’s never going to hurt you again. I promise.”
Mama kissed her on the cheek and hugged her tight. Corrie hugged her back, sure that Mama would make it better.
Then Mama rose and gripped Corrie’s shoulders.
“You stay here, Corrie. Understand? You stay right here. I have to go back in there, but you have to stay right here.”
“Don’t leave me, Mama. Please don’t leave me!”
“I have to go back in there, Corrie. I have to make sure he never hurts you again. Then we’ll go home and be safe—just you and me. Okay?” With another admonition for Corrie to stay there, Mama entered the church where she was silhouetted for a moment against the wall of flame.
Seconds later Corrie heard her stepfather curse and her mama yell something back. Then the roof collapsed, the force tossing Corrie back like a rag doll. Blackness claimed her for its own.
Corrie sighed and opened her eyes. She knew she had had the dream again, but this time she knew her mother hadn’t deserted her, hadn’t intentionally left her on her own. Mama had returned to the church to keep Corrie safe.
All those years, her memories had centered on her mother leaving her, interpreting that as abandonment—but what else could the child Corrie have thought? She had blocked out her stepfather’s rape—had even blocked out the man’s very existence. She had sought to explain what had happened in terms she could understand.
How was she to know they were wrong?
In erecting mental barriers against the remembered pain of the rape and the loss of her mother, Corrie figured she must have prevented any psychologist from reaching her and helping her. Sometimes being an independent kid wasn’t the best thing. But again, how was she to know?
She had only been a little kid—abused and alone. A heartbeat in her ear, with tickly hairs as well, reminded her that she was no longer alone. Jess, she thought with a surge of love. Jess had shredded every barrier she erected. He had shown her the power of love and shared his family with her.
He had given her memories to fill the rest of her life. If only . . .
At her side, Jess cleared his throat, and she lifted her gaze to his intense blue ones. “You’re going back tomorrow, aren’t you? That’s why waiting until the Midsummer Ball is so important.” His tone was quiet and sad.
“I—I—” She stopped and snagged the breath he’d ripped away. She dropped her gaze. “Yes.”
“Stay with me. Give up those other men. Give up your travels in time.”
That elicited a snort of laughter. “You say that like I’m a professional. Chief, you’re the only man in my life and this is the first—and last—time I do this.”
“Then stay with me.”
If only I could. She burrowed her head against his chest “I can’t. I don’t know any way I can.”
When Corrie awoke that morning, Jess had already gone. In a way, she was glad. If she had to spend this entire last day looking at him, knowing what she would lose when she went back, knowing there was no way out, she would end up screaming. That wasn’t how she wanted him to remember her.
She made her way downstairs and paused at the kitchen door, the memory of her first attempt at cooking breakfast sharp and pungent in her mind. Laughter—and tears—tickled the back of her throat.
Jess must’ve been crazy to put his money behind a chef who couldn’t cook an egg without burning it . . . or tossing it onto his mother.
Corrie stuffed her hair under one of his hats and let herself out the back way. Disguised in one of his old suits, she hurried to the Café of Dreams and slipped up the stairs with only the kitchen staff the wiser. No need to rub her and Jess’s liaison in the gossips’ faces.
Her apartment seemed abandoned already. Little bits and pieces of her life here littered the surfaces, and she trailed her fingertips over the daguerreotype of Jess she had taken from his guest room as waves of what-might-have-been crashed over her. She sank onto the needlepoint footstool that Peggy had given her and laid her head on her knees and gave in to the sobs tearing at her chest.
The Johnsons must have sensed her need to be alone because Maisie didn’t make an appearance until Corrie had bathed and was toweling her hair dry by the open window. Corrie smiled at her through the damp tendrils. “Come on in.”
Her friend entered on hesitant feet. “Deputy Cyril came by this morning to tell us what happened. He said you were doing fine, so we—I—decided not to bother you until now.”
“I’m fine, Maisie. Just a little tired.” Corrie shifted a shoulder and winced. “And a little sore. But otherwise I’m okay.”
“Thank the good Lord.”
Suddenly, Maisie enveloped Corrie in a hug, and her tears escaped and blurred her vision. The woman had become a good friend, and Corrie would miss her gentle teasing and honest concern. Maybe when Corrie returned to her own time, she would be able to make a friend like Maisie, now that she had learned what a friend was and how to be a friend herself.
“Now, Corrie, you gotta get dressed,” Maisie ordered and wiped her eyes. “Miz Zelda’s carriage will be here soon.”
“I didn’t know they intended to come into town today.” Corrie twisted the thin towel around her hair. “Maybe I’ll fix them something special.” It’s the only way I can say good-bye.
Maisie fisted her hands on her hips and stared at her. “You’ll do no such thing, missy. You’re going to that dance tonight, and Jess’s sisters have a surprise for you. I’ve seen it and it’s pure-dee beautiful.”
The dance. The Midsummer Ball. Of course. Corrie’s hopes soared. At least she would be able to waltz with Jess one more time. He would hold her in his arms and swirl her around and around. One more time and she would be Cinderella.
And like Cinderella, midnight would come. Corrie turned away to hide her expression until she could control it. Then she called Maisie over to her desk and handed her a folded document, closed with a wax stamp. “Keep this somewhere safe.”
Maisie turned it over in her hands. “Looks important. What is it?”
“Just keep it safe.” Corrie closed both of her friend’s hands over it. “If something ever happens to me, open it. Understand?”
Puzzled, the woman studied the paper, then turned her too perceptive gaze on Corrie. Before she could ask another question, Corrie said, “That’s all I’m going to tell you. Just keep it and open it if something happens to me. Teddy Garrett will help you with the legal stuff.”
The steady brown gaze held for a moment, then Maisie nodded and tucked the paper in her bodice. “Nothing bad’s going to happen to you.”
“Well, if it does . . .” Corrie saw her out and leaned against the closed door. That particular item on her mental list of farewells was done—the Johnsons would have the Café of Dreams when she was gone.
Now to say good-bye to the Garrett women and make it through the Midsummer Ball. She dragged out her emerald green evening gown and made a rude noise.
So much for going out in style.
The sun was lowering toward the Allegheny Mountains, tinting the sky with a riot of pinks and purples, when Zelda tossed the offending gown into the corner. “That goes back to the secondhand store, my dear.”
“But that’s—”
“Repulsive, I’m afraid,” Abby finished for her as she led Corrie into one of the other bedrooms. Her sisters, who had been standing in a row in front of the bed, stepped back with a flourish.
An ethereal creation, the shade of the palest yellow rose imaginable, floated on the bed. Tiny forest green bows peeked out where the flounce was tucked up in front and in the bustle.
“It’s yours,” Peggy said, pulling Corrie forward.
Afraid it would melt, Corrie hovered over it. Then she drew them all into a hug. “Thank you. Thank you.”
Fairy godmothers really did exist—she had six of them.
Shimmering petticoats and a new corset, edged in petal-soft lace, rested on a chair nearby. Abby lifted them. “Can’t have you wearing your everyday underthings.”
“Hurry, the ball begins soon.” Zelda handed the evening gown to Clare. “Deedee, you see her hair doesn’t get mussed. We want those curls to cascade down over her shoulder to cover that bruise.”
Just that easily, Zelda dismissed the terror of the previous night, and Corrie laughed. She would have one more evening with Jess, and because of the Garrett family, it would be perfect.
She gave herself a stern lecture about weeping willows and leaky hoses while they dressed her. She wouldn’t cry tonight. She would have plenty of time for that back in Dallas.
Before she knew it, she had been laced into the silk corset—much more comfortable than her coarse cotton one—and stepped into the petticoats. They wouldn’t let her see herself in the mirror until the dress was on, rosebuds were tucked into her hair, and a long silk, forest green ribbon was tied around her neck with the bow at the back and the streamers drifting down to her waist.
Then they stepped back and let her look.
All her resolutions crumbled and tears pooled in her eyes. I’m beautiful. Really, really beautiful.
The neckline dipped wide and low over her breasts and shoulders, held by little wisps of gathered fabric no wider than a couple of inches for sleeves. The color set off her skin and eyes, and the skirt, narrow across the front and releasing into a profusion of gossamer ruffles below the bustle to form a long train, gave her an elegant line she never knew she could possess.
Peggy circled her, eyes saucer wide. “I hope I look as beautiful as you do when I let my skirts down.”
Corrie hugged her. “You will be. You already are.”
The Garrett men arrived before they could all succumb to weepiness, and they made their way downstairs as a group. Corrie strained for a glimpse of Jess, but he wasn’t present.
Chin up, Webb. He’ll be here. And won’t he be surprised, she thought with a grin. Crossing the lobby, she spied Bridget and several other friends, waving excitedly to her. She shot them a thumbs-up sign. She wouldn’t think about missing them. Not yet.
Zelda held her back at the entrance to the ballroom. “Just a moment, my dear.”
Obediently, Corrie halted and turned toward her. In the doorway, the Garretts seemed to be whispering a lot, but Corrie waited for Zelda to tell her whatever it was she needed to.
The older woman smiled and squeezed Corrie’s hand. “You are indeed a beauty, my dear. In heart as well as in appearance.” She kissed Corrie on one cheek and whispered, “I feel as if I have another daughter.”
Heart overflowing, Corrie’s throat clogged with tears. Blinking rapidly, she whispered back, “And I’ve found another mother.”
They hugged, and Zelda used her handkerchief to wipe away their tears. “Thank you for bringing my boy back into the family,” she whispered, then added in a firmer but still kindly tone, “Now you may make your entrance.”
Corrie swiveled around to see the Garretts lined up on either side of the doorway inside the ballroom, framing Jess, elegant as always in his tuxedo. The appreciative light in his eyes zinged straight to her heart and she straightened, remembering all the lessons in the social graces that Zelda and her daughters had drilled into her.
Walking on air and never taking her eyes from him, she approached Jess. The light gleamed on his dark hair and she brushed his usual wayward strand from his forehead as she reached him.
Her breath whooshed out as he captured her hand and bowed over it, heat singeing her as his lips caressed her through the silk of her gloves.
“You are the loveliest woman here,” Jess said as he straightened, “although I’ve had eyes for no one but you since you walked in the door.”
Move over, Cinderella. My fairytale is coming true.
“Th-thank you,” she managed to say. Then the orchestra struck up a waltz and she knew the enchantment would last the whole night.
She’d worry about later, later.
Her feet seemed to operate on automatic—or maybe it was that Jess was such a wonderful dancer—but she floated over the floor, barely touching ground. They twirled and twirled, and Corrie giggled as her train arced behind her in a bell shape, just as she had witnessed others’ doing when she had spied on the Christmas ball.
The waltz rhythm swept her along, echoing the triplet rhythm of her heartbeat. One-two-three, one-two-three. Her vision blurred, and the room receded to light and shadow.
All she saw was Jess—tall and dark-haired, with Texas summer eyes. His dimples flickered in and out, and she learned to anticipate a breath-robbing turn when they appeared.
One-two-three, one-two-three.
They dipped and whirled, and Corrie longed for it never to end. But every dance had an ending, and Jess put them into a reverse turn as the concluding phrase sounded. Then he sent her in a final spin and stepped back, holding her hand and bowing.
Corrie’s heart thudded against her corset. Now or never.
With a light grasp on Jess’s hand, she sank down onto her back leg, and sank even more as she lowered her nose toward her knee. Abby had drilled and drilled her for hours, and a spark of delight filled Corrie as the practice paid off.
She held the pose for a beat. Two beats. Ah hell, why not trounce the blonde? Three beats. Four. Then, as lightly as the mist rising off the mountains, she rose, her eyes never leaving his.
In her mind, she pumped her fist and yelled, “Yes!”
As he widened his blue eyes, Jess let loose a laugh and caught her up in his arms and whirled her around, her feet never touching the ground. “My little duck is a swan.”
“What?”
“Never mind.” Then he whirled around again.
She threw out her arms and laughed with him. It felt amazing to be with him—to touch him, to dance with him. She never wanted it to stop.
Her return to her own time loomed, but she pushed away that concern. For now, she would enjoy the ball. And enjoy it she did. The Garrett men claimed her for every other dance even though she didn’t know the steps—she kept the rest for Jess. His smile as he rejoined her after each dance apart sent heat coursing over her.
If only . . .
But too soon she noticed that time had run out—midnight loomed. Whether she wanted to or not, she had to take Jess’s badge and return to her time. Otherwise, she would probably cause a time paradox or alternate universe.
Sunk in despair, she went to find Jess.
The moon cast a silvery light over the gardens, shadowing the darkness with a deeper shade of night. The gazebo gleamed eerily, but its cool interior provided a private refuge for them to catch their breath.
Jess drew Corrie into his embrace, inhaling the scent of roses in her hair, as well as the scent that was Corrie’s alone. She molded herself to him and slipped her arms under his coat to encircle his waist. Minutes passed as they stood, quietly and desperately, making memories that would have to last them a lifetime.
He knew the time had come for her to leave and felt the future barreling at him like an out-of-control locomotive. A future without Corrie.
A future without love.
“Do you really have to go?”
She nodded and stepped back, leaving a Corrie-sized hole in his being. His only consolation was that the pain in her eyes echoed his own.
Her fingers lingered on his lapel. “I—I need your badge, Jess.”
“My badge?” Confused, he removed it from the inner pocket where he kept it except for times like last night. He held it out on his palm, the silver catching the moonlight. “To remember me by?”
She lifted the tiny confection that was her evening bag. “No. I have a picture of you in here to take with me.”
“Then what do you need my badge for?” His mind yelled its confusion, and he fought to maintain control. He would see this done, no matter how much his heart pleaded for a reprieve.
“I’m not sure, but I think when I touch it”—she shuddered a sigh in and out—“I go back.”
Hope reared its head. “You mean if you never touch it . . . ?”
“I don’t think it works that way. I think—” She flung away from him and paced the perimeter of the gazebo. “Oh, hell, I think I can control the timing with it—only on this day—of when I go back. Otherwise, before tonight is over, I go back whenever the Powers That Be want to send me. I don’t really know.”
“I don’t want you to go. I love you.”
She clutched a post and sagged onto the guardrail. “I love you, too. I don’t know why I had to travel back a hundred years to fall in love, but I did.”
He walked to within arm’s reach of her and stopped. “I will always love you. I don’t know how I will live without you.”
She directed a steady gaze at him. “You have your family. They’ll help.”
He thought of the way his father and the rest had joined together to rescue Corrie and nodded. “Yes, they will. But they can’t replace you. No one can.”
“And there’ll never be another man to compare to you.” She stood on tiptoe to press her lips to his.
Then she whispered, “I’ll love you forever,” and pulled the badge from his hand.
A roaring like a thousand waterfalls assailed his ears and a gale-force wind pummeled him. Squinting his eyes against it, he saw a vortex form and sweep Corrie into it.
“No!” he shouted, and jumped into the vortex after her. He tumbled, and the roaring increased until, from one heartbeat to the next, he touched Corrie’s hand and his motion calmed.
Her eyes were wide with fear but shone with love. “You can’t be here. You can’t.”
“If you can’t stay, I’ll go with you.” Better an unknown time with her than his own without her. “I want to be with you wherever—whenever—that is.”
“I—I don’t know if you can.” She turned to look toward the darkness ahead, and they tumbled like logs caught in a spring flood, the thundering noise magnified.
“That’s the future?” he yelled in her ear.
She nodded, and her grasp threatened to cut off circulation to his fingers.
He shot a glance behind him, but all he could see was a soft white light. Giving her hand a tug, he asked, “Then that’s my time back there?”
As she looked back, their momentum slowed and silence settled around them. They seemed to float between their worlds. He took advantage of the calm to pull her into his arms, and their motion ceased altogether.
They exchanged a puzzled glance, then Corrie chanced a look toward the darker end of the vortex and the twenty-first century. Instantly, she regretted it for they started the headlong, end-over-end rolling again.
Wait a minute. She grabbed Jess and managed to turn them toward the end of the vortex in his time. The calm returned and the noise abated.
“Notice something, Chief?” She nodded at the soft glow coming from the nineteenth century. “I noticed this when I came through before.”
“Enlighten me,” he answered, his tone as tight as his grip around her waist.
“When I fought moving from my end of the tunnel toward yours, there was all that noise and being battered against the sides of whatever this is.” She risked a smile, wondering if she was right. Praying she was right. “It’s as if it’s telling me in which direction I was supposed to be going.”
“But it’s only quiet when you—” Light sparked in his eyes as he stared at her. “You mean . . . ?”
“Maybe I’m supposed to stay in your time.”
“Then what are we waiting for?”
“Hell if I know, Chief.” She shifted her eyes to the shining white end of the vortex toward family and friends. Toward the home she had craved for so long. “I don’t have ruby slippers to click three times.”
Jess laughed. “I have no idea what that means, but let’s try something else three times.” He cupped her cheek with one hand and pressed his lips to hers, released them, then did it again.
“Third time’s the charm?” she whispered, and fisted a hand in his hair as he kissed her again.
As always, his lips were warm and tender, with a hint of power. She sighed and tangled her tongue with his, lost in the sensation of holding Jess and kissing him when she had been sure she would never see him again. His back was warm beneath her fingers, and his arms held her as if he would never let her go.
Never let me go. Oh, please, if only . . .
“Harrumph.”
She clutched Jess closer. Oh, please.
“Harr-r-rumph.” This time the sound was more pronounced.
And familiar.
Corrie opened her eyes and glanced its way. Major Payne glared at her from the steps of the gazebo.
Joy blossomed within her and she laid back her head and let loose a peal of laughter. “Jess, we did it! We’re home.”
Jess opened his eyes, then spun her in a circle. “You’re right. We’re home, sweeting.”
“Actually, you are in the Chesterfield Hotel’s gazebo, making a spectacle of yourselves.” Major Payne pursed his lips and issued another “harrumph.”
Reining in his exuberance, Jess shook his head. “Forgive me, Major, but you’ll understand when I tell you the lady has just accepted my proposal of marriage.”
“Jess—”
He gave her a surreptitious shake and whispered from the side of his mouth, “Shhh.”
Major Payne’s features transformed into a smile. “Well, in that case . . .” He bowed and backed down the steps. “I’ll order champagne immediately.”
As his ramrod-stiff figure exited past the rhododendrons, Corrie whirled on Jess. “What was that about marriage? You haven’t asked yet, so how could I accept?”
“I asked you months ago, remember?”
She grinned. “And I said to ask me again after the Midsummer Ball.”
Solemnly, Jess dropped to one knee and gazed up at her, his eyes shining in the moonlight. “Corrine Webb, will you marry me and live with me for all time?”
“Oh, get up, Chief,” Corrie said, but her heart threatened to burst. She finally had her fairytale, complete with handsome prince and happily-ever-after ending.
Best of all, she had found her home. In his heart.
He kissed her fingertips before getting to his feet, then yanked her into his arms and said, “You belong here, with me, forever. Will you marry me?”
When she didn’t answer immediately, he gave her another shake. “Say yes.”
“Oh, yes. Yes! Forever and ever.”
Okay, so maybe she’d let old Charles Dickens live.