Facing Grant in the light of day, knowing that he was watching her, was one of the hardest things Erina had ever done. Every time she looked at him she remembered what he'd done to her--and what he'd taught her to do to him in the wee hours of the morning. She was in a constant state of flushed cheeks and suppressed smiles as they drove toward Galveston.
Colin cooed and played in his car seat. He'd been a little angel, Mrs. Parker had said this morning as they picked him up from Grant's mother's house. And Mrs. Kirby . . . she looked at the two of them as though she knew what they'd done in the dark hours of the night.
Now, as they crossed the high bridge over the bay, Erina no longer felt a sense of panic at the height. Maybe it was just because she'd ridden in the Cherokee several times before, or maybe it was because she felt immensely relaxed and confident for the first time in years.
They pulled into the parking garage of UTMB minutes later.
"I talked to Sam Reynolds and told him about the wedding. I'll be sending a copy of the certificate over later today. I'm sure that will go a long way toward getting your status settled."
"I couldn't bear the thought of havin' to leave you . . . now."
Grant smiled, his eyes hooded in a very sexy way. "I may never let you out of my sight--at least not for forty or fifty years."
While she wanted to lean toward him, kiss him just one more time, Colin let out a angry wail at sitting so long in the Jeep.
"He's making his wishes known this morning," Grant observed, the dimple still in his cheek. "I guess he's jealous that I took his mommy away so long yesterday."
"Under most conditions, I'd agree with him that I'd stayed away too long. But I just can't be agreein' with him this fine day."
"It is a fine day, isn't it?" Grant asked as he reached in the back seat and unfastened Colin from his car seat. "Just the first of a lifetime of fine days."
Colin's checkup didn't take over an hour. Dr. Cook pronounced him well, healing with no problems. He wanted to see him again in a month, but that was just routine, Dr. Cook said. Colin didn't even need any more medicine.
Erina left the hospital feeling as though another part of her life was falling into place.
"What would you like to do with the rest of our day?" Grant asked as they walked toward the Jeep.
"I'm not sure," she said, thinking of the many sights she hadn't seen yet. She'd wanted to ride the new trolley, walk on the beach, visit the homes that had survived the hurricane and the years. "Wait, I know!" she said, suddenly excited. "Can we visit Kirby House? I'd love to see how it looks now."
Grant looked at her a little strangely, but nodded. "Of course. I'm sure they're having tours all day."
"Good. I so want to see the place again. I'd forgotten how much in the past few days, with all the excitement of the wedding, but when I saw your mother's table, I remembered so much of how it used to look."
"You know what I'm going to say, don't you?"
"That you don't believe I'm from the past. I know. But please, take me Kirby House. I promise I won't do or say anything odd in front of others."
"I'm not worried about that, sweetheart. You can say or do anything you want--as long as you don't start removing your clothes in public. I'm afraid I'd have to put my foot down there," he said in a teasing way.
"As if I would be takin' my clothes off anywhere," she replied with a smile.
"Oh, I remember your clothes coming off last night. Very clearly, in fact. If the memory gets any better, we're going to have to detour to the condo and put Colin down for a nap."
Erina placed a hand over her mouth and giggled like a schoolgirl. "Maybe after visiting Kirby House," she said between bursts of laughter.
"I'll hold you to that," he said with a wink as he started the engine.
#
Kirby House was built in a New Orleans style out of red brick, with high steps out front and lots of iron grillwork around the porch and windows. Erina had always loved the house, which remarkably looked much as it had a hundred years ago. The main difference was in the landscaping. Palm trees clustered in the front where an oak had once stood, and oleanders lined the wall leading from the main house to the coach house.
Grant had called ahead from his car telephone and made arrangements for a private tour. Being married to respected, wealthy man did have some advantages, she thought with a smile. Of course, she would have loved him anyway. Inside, Grant was as kind as they come. Outside . . . well, he did cause her heart to flutter every time she looked at him.
They parked along the side and walked up the front steps like any other tourist family. Family. Yes, that's what they were now. The idea that within two weeks she had acquired the husband of her dreams and a healthy baby made Erina want to laugh out loud, to hug the world and tell everyone of her good fortune.
"Marriage seems to agree with you. You're certainly in a good mood today," Grant observed as he opened one of the double, leaded glass front doors.
"Oh, and I wouldn't know why that would be," she said, grinning as she carried Colin inside the darkness of the foyer.
As soon as she entered the mansion, however, her smile faded and a sense of deja vous assailed her. Even Colin became quiet, looking around the red-patterned walls and gilt accents with wide blue eyes.
"It looks so different," Erina said softly. "Like there is no family here, like the house has no soul."
"Houses don't have souls," Grant said, walking a few steps forward on the creaking wood floor.
"I don't know. I think maybe they do, if they're lived in and loved." Someday, she'd like to have a house that comforted her family, a place of warmth and happiness.
He shrugged. "A house has always been just a place to sleep, eat, and entertain to me."
"Even your condo?"
"That's different."
"I know," Erina said, walking toward a red velvet settee that was centered on one wall of the hallway. "I think the condo is how you'd like your life to be, far away from your family's world, and your apartment is just part of that world."
"That's pretty deep for this early in the day," Grant observed lightly as he studied a painting on the opposite wall.
"I'm not sayin' anything ill of your apartment or your mother's home, mind you, but somehow they don't seem like you."
He walked toward her, standing so close she was forced to look up into his eyes. "You're right. And I've been giving my life a lot of thought lately. I haven't mentioned this before, but I've decided to get out of the real estate business."
"How can you be doin' that?" From what Erina understood, Kirby Investments was the family business. Surely Grant wouldn't turn his back on his mother and his friends.
"I'm going to offer Kirby Investments on the stock market as an investment. It's called a Real Estate Investment Trust. Shares will be sold to many people, who will get a dividend and a chance to make money when the stock goes up in price. I'll retain a voting share, as will Mother and Brian. But over the next year, I'm going to get out of the management end. Brian is thinking about whether he'll retire or stay. It's up to him."
"That's such a big decision. Are you certain?"
"Yes. I never wanted to be in the business. This way, I'll have time to spend with you and Colin, and hopefully other children in the future." He smiled and touched her cheek. "You're blushing. Are you thinking about last night?" he asked softly.
"How could I not think of it?" she said, breaking eye contact. "We could be blessed with another child from . . . what we did."
"Yes, and if I'd been thinking more clearly I would have asked if you wanted me to use protection. But I wasn't thinking clearly. All I wanted was to--well, let's not go into that right here. I'd have to carry you upstairs and find a comfortable, private place."
She blushed all the more at the idea of making love to Grant, but her smile faded as she remembered where she was. She'd made a fool of herself over Jerrold Kirby in this house; she'd lost her virginity as a result of his drunken attack.
And if she'd never worked for Mrs. Kirby, never smiled shyly at Jerrold, she wouldn't have had Colin. And she would never have needed a miracle or been sent to Grant's time.
Now was not the time to talk about that, though. Later, when they were alone, she'd tell Grant how she felt. Going back to his original topic, she said, "What else will you do, besides stay home with me and watch Colin grow up?"
"I'm thinking about designing some new climbing gear. Maybe go into business with some instructor friends of mine. We've talked about improvement that could be made. That way, you and I could live wherever we wanted. I have no ties to Houston, but if you want to stay there, we can."
"Can we live in Galveston?"
"If you want. Or we can travel. You may like Colorado or California. Or anywhere else. We could split our time between a few different locations if you want, like Colorado in the summer and Galveston the rest of the year. I'm pretty open."
"I've never been to any of those places."
"We can go anywhere you want."
The freedom his money allowed was as foreign to Erina as the idea of engines that propelled cars at sixty miles an hour or airplanes that flew through the sky. But, she had to admit, she'd love to travel.
"Could we go back to Ireland some day?"
"Whenever you want. It's less than ten hours away."
"Ten hours! It took us four weeks from Dublin to Galveston."
Just as Grant was about to say something, a short, stout woman in Victorian fashion bustled into the hallway.
"Hello! Welcome to Kirby House."
"I'm Grant Kirby and this my wife Erina." His eyes rested on a still-curious Colin. "And our son."
"Yes, yes, Mr. Kirby. Thank you for calling ahead. And such a beautiful wife and child," the woman said, grinning at Colin. "How old is he?"
"Two months," Erina answered.
"What a wonderful age! Well, if you're ready for your tour, we can begin in the music room."
She and Grant followed the tour guide through the rooms of the first floor. Surprisingly, much of the original furniture was here, including the huge piano that she and Grant had talked about before. The ivory keys were yellow with age, but the finish had been restored to its original shine.
Part of each room was divided with a heavy velvet rope so people wouldn't walk on the old carpets or touch delicate items like Mrs. Kirby's silver tea service. In the dining room, another table, similar to the one at Grant's mother's house, sat beneath twin crystal chandeliers and hosted a large gilt and crystal epergne. The family's china rested in a cabinet that matched the table.
"This furniture is new," Erina said before the tour guide began to speak. "But the china and the chandeliers are old."
Sure enough, the woman verified Erina's observations. Grant looked at her oddly, but she continued to follow the woman through the butler's pantry into the kitchen.
They walked up the servant's stairs to the second floor, a route Erina knew well. Grant took Colin from Erina's arms as she started up the narrow steps. As a girl, she'd carried a tall stack of sunshine-smelling linens upstairs many, many times. She'd taken tea to the ladies' parlor at the top of the main staircase, or brushed Mrs. Kirby's long brown hair when her maid was indisposed.
So many memories. They were as clear to her as if they'd happened yesterday, yet she hadn't been in the Kirby's house for over a year. And a hundred years. She was part of this time now, and had to start thinking in those terms. She'd never forget her past, but the future called to her with promises of love and joy.
They went into the master bedroom upstairs, which did look much like it had in the 1800's. Mrs. Kirby's silver brush and comb set rested on her cherry vanity like it always had. Lace panels covered the windows with blue brocade drapes to block out the sun during the hottest time of day. The wallpaper and border was new, but similar to the blue and gold pattern Mrs. Kirby had ordered from France in the 1880's.
When it came time to enter Jerrold Kirby's bedroom, Erina hung back, feigning interest in a landscape painting in the wide hallway. Within seconds, Grant walked back to where she stood.
"What's wrong?"
"I have no need to see that room."
"Do you think that's where he--"
"No! It was upstairs on the third floor. I just don't want to remember . . . him. I'd rather see the rest of the house."
"It's just a fantasy, Erina. Don't let your imagination cause you any pain."
"It's not my imagination. Jerrold Kirby lived in that room until he went away to college. He used to climb out his window onto the balcony and throw apples at the other children. One time he climbed down the ironwork and fell into his mother's rose bush. Don't tell me those things didn't happen!"
"How did you know all that?" their tour guide asked, peering from behind Grant in the doorway.
"I . . . perhaps I heard it somewhere."
"But that's not part of the tour. Some of those stories are in our background information on the family, though. Have you ever been a tour guide?"
"No." But perhaps she should be. Who could be a more authentic orator of the past? If she hadn't been so upset at Grant's continued denial of her background, she would have laughed at the irony.
"Why don't we go on to another room?" Grant suggested.
"It's just so odd," the woman mumbled.
"My wife studies history, especially Galveston's past."
Thankfully, everyone let the subject drop as they walked into the next bedroom, which had been occupied by Jerrold's sister Kathleen.
"This chest on chest was imported from Ireland and withstood the hurricane of 1900. Records indicate that the Kirby's used it to store fresh fruit and vegetables from the kitchen when everyone moved upstairs. There are still stains in the bottom of the drawers." The guide pulled out the middle drawer to show the dark, round spots.
When Erina looked up, her breath caught in her throat. She could barely hear the woman's words as her heart began to pound.
"The bed is authentic to the period and was made on the mainland in Galveston county," the guide explained, smiling as she walked across the room. "The quilt was made right here in Galveston in the 1890's and was donated to the historical society by a dressmaker."
"Mrs. Abernathy," Erina whispered, feeling the blood leave her face.
"Why, yes, it was! How did you know that?"
Grant hurried over, Colin clutched in his arms. "Erina, are you okay?"
She couldn't answer. All she could do was stand and stare at her own quilt, lying so innocently across Kathleen Kirby's bed.
"Would you excuse us for just a minute. My wife's not feeling well," Grant said to the woman. Maybe if you could get her a glass of water from downstairs . . ."
"Of course. Sit down, dear, and I'll be right back."
The woman's footsteps echoed down the hallway.
Erina walked slowly toward the bed.
"Sweetheart, why don't you sit down? You're as white as a sheet. You look like you've seen a ghost."
"I have," she whispered.
Grant caught her arm. "Erina, you've got me worried."
"I . . ." Colin began to fuss and reached out his little arms. "Let me hold my son," she said softly. "I need to hold Colin."
The nightmare she'd experienced at Grant's condo came back to haunt her. Suddenly, holding on to her son seemed the most important thing in her life. She mustn't let him go. She mustn't lose her son."
"Erina, talk to me. What's going on?"
"This is my quilt," she said softly, moving closer to the bed. "I made this quilt after I left Kirby House--after Jerrold . . . and I used the scraps from different gowns I worked on."
She stopped near the foot of the bed. "But when I left, it wasn't finished. I'd never embroidered any of this," she said, pointing to the pieces that contained the tiny stitches she'd learned as a child. "See here. It's the rocking chair you bought for me. And our initials inside the heart." Tears filled her eyes.
Grant stood beside her, worry and a growing sense of panic reflected in his handsome features. "Erina, let's get out of here. You're really scaring me."
"Do you see? Don't you know what this mean?" Tears rolled down her face as Colin began to squirm and cry. "I'm going back. All along, I've been fooling myself into thinking that I could stay with you when . . ."
"Erina, no. That's not what this means. This is some kind of joke, some--"
"Oh, Grant, if only you could believe." She wanted to touch him, to feel his warmth and share her love one more time. But even as she swayed toward him, she felt the pull of the past. Looking back at the quilt, her fingers reached out and traced the pattern of the heart.
"I love you Grant," she whispered.
"Erina!"
And then there was nothing but the blinding white light.
#
"Erina!"
Grant screamed her name, thrust his hand toward the blinding flash of light. Too late! Like the flash powder in a magician's act, she'd disappeared into the brightness.
"Erina!" he cried again, running around the room, looking for some explanation. Some trap door. Something to prove that what he'd just witnessed hadn't really happened. But the floor beneath the bed was solid, with no sign that anything unusual had just happened here.
He reached out and touched the quilt. Just as she'd said, a rocking chair was embroidered on velvet, bordered by intricate stitches in a soft gray. And on another square the heart, made of tiny loops of red with their initials inside. E.O. and G.K.
"Oh, my God."
"What's wrong, Mr. Kirby?"
The tour guide came into the room with a glass of water and a wet rag. "Where's Mrs. Kirby?"
Grant stood there staring at her, his heart pounding, unable to answer her. What could he say? That one minute Erina and Colin had been standing there by the bed, and the next she'd vanished in a blinding flash of light?
It was impossible, it was unbelievable . . .
If only you could believe. She'd said those words to him before she disappeared. And she'd said that she loved him. She'd never said that before. Why would she say it now, then vanish?
Why?
"Mr. Kirby?"
"She's gone," he whispered into the stillness of the room.
"What do you mean? Did she and the baby leave the house?"
"She's gone," was all he could whisper as he walked through the doorway.
"Mr. Kirby!"
He ran down the stairs, but when he got to the bottom, he had no idea where to go, what to do. When he heard the footsteps of the tour guide behind him, he ran out the front doors of Kirby House.
"Erina!" Looking right and left, he ran toward the Jeep. Where was she? She hadn't left him. She hadn't.
When he reached the car and she wasn't there, he felt like collapsing in defeat. At the same time, he wanted to run through the streets and call out her name. He wanted to throw himself on the ground and pound his fists against the earth. He wanted to rant to the heavens.
"Oh, God." It was true. It was all true. All her stories, all her claims to be from the past. There was no record of Erina O'Shea in the present because she'd never been here before she'd appeared in his condo. There was nothing wrong with his security system. She hadn't sneaked inside and hidden for hours with Colin.
She really was from the past and he'd lost her. Just when he . . .
Grant dropped to his knees on the hard asphalt, tears filling his eyes. "I love you, Erina," he said aloud, looking into the clear blue sky. "I love you. I believe you."
But only silence greeted his labored breathing and his tears. The silence of his lonely years, the void of his life without his wife, his love, his Erina.