Across the Winds of Time (19 page)

“I trust they will not fit as...em...much like a glove as your trousers do you.” He cleared his throat. “I could not possibly get any work done that way.”

I blushed. “You’d be surprised. They’re very comfortable.”

Darius coughed behind his hand and lowered his gaze to my skirt.

“Comfortable... Yes, of course. Shall we go?”

I grinned, loving his old-fashioned embarrassment. I grabbed my purse from the coffee table and led the way to the car, pulling open the passenger door for Darius. I beamed as he expressed wonder, both verbally and by action, in the materials and feel of the car. I laughed outright as I showed him how to hook the seatbelt, and argued with him that he simply had to wear the belt—no matter how uncomfortable it felt to be tied in.

Marmaduke, who had followed us out of the house—with permission—given his last few days of freedom, jumped onto the hood of the car as if he, too, were going for a ride. I shooed him off. He continued to dash from one side of the car to the other, and I worried that he intended to jump inside the car, but he finally came to a halt and stalked over to the side of the drive to watch the activities.

Having bested Darius’s recalcitrant objections over the seatbelt as a mother might, I went around to the driver’s side and climbed in, feeling self-conscious as he watched my every move. He asked a myriad of questions, some regarding the mechanics of the car, which I could not answer, of course.

Unsure of Marmaduke’s exact location, I backed slowly down the driveway. With relief, I noted he continued to stare at us from his position near the house. It amazed me that the cat never wandered far from the grounds—if at all. Darius turned around to watch the movement of the car with fascination.

I backed onto the road.

“Molly, stop!”

I slammed my foot down on the brakes at the urgency in Darius’s voice. The car came to a jarring halt, and I swung my head around to look for an oncoming vehicle. I could see nothing.

“What!” I cried out as I turned to look at him.

“Something is wrong.”

Before my horrified eyes, Darius’s normally tanned face paled to an almost translucent white. He raised his hands in front of his face to look at them...or the transparent haze that they’d become. I could see right through his hands...to the car door beyond.

I began to shake.

“Take me back to the house. Take me back now, Molly,” Darius whispered.

“I can’t, Darius!” I cried. “I can’t move. I’m too scared. What if I do something wrong? What’s happening to you?” My hands shook as I gripped the steering wheel and my legs seemed frozen, incapable of action—the action I so desperately needed.

“Molly, listen to me,” Darius’s voice seemed to come from a long way off. “I do not think I can leave this place. And I do not think I can walk. I feel so weak. If I do not get back...” His voice trailed off.

“Darius! Darius!” I couldn’t make out the features of his face and could barely see the outline of his body. Everything was a blur. Some force finally galvanized me into action, and I hoped against hope that I could get the car back into the drive without losing him. I slammed the car into drive, yanked the wheel and gunned the car. The car jerked forward and roared back into the driveway. Marmaduke jumped out of the way as I slammed the car to a halt next to the house. I shut off the engine and turned to stare at the faint white silhouette that was Darius, desperately willing him to come back to me.

“Darius,” I shrieked. “Darius!” I reached for him but my hand passed through his shape, and I jerked back, terrified and helpless to stop what was happening.

“Darius, please don’t leave me!” I sobbed helplessly. I scrambled out of the car and ran to the passenger’s side door. I yanked it open and stopped short. Darius sat in the seat—in the flesh—staring at his hands.

“Darius! What happened?” I grabbed the lapels of his jacket to hang onto him. “What happened?” I repeated, but he seemed not to hear me.

“Darius?” I choked out. Blinded by tears, I let go with one hand to rub my eyes.

He turned to look at me, his eyes unfocused, a vacant look on his face.

I reached for him again, terrified that I wouldn’t touch solid flesh. But the skin of his face was warm to my fingers.

“Darius?” I whispered.

He seemed to see me at last and grabbed my hand to bring it to his lips. As if exhausted, he closed his eyes and rested his forehead against my open palm.

“I don’t think I can leave this place,” he muttered. “Perhaps I am just what I seem. A ghost. And tied to this land I once loved so much.” His voice held such despair that I ached for him—and for me. I swallowed hard, refusing to dwell on the future implications, and I reached to unlock his seatbelt.

“Come on. Let’s go back to the house. I can go to the store later. I’ll get what we need.”

I tugged at Darius’s arm, unwilling to let him go, and he climbed out of the car—albeit on unsteady legs. He put his arm around my shoulders, and we walked toward the house. He resisted going inside though, preferring instead to take a seat on the loveseat on the porch.

I sank down beside him, staving off logistical concerns or the terror that threatened to send my body into another spasm of terror.

“Look, Darius. Everything is going to be all right. I’ll get what we need. Just please don’t disappear like that again.”

He looked at me for a brief moment, his face grim, and then he leaned forward over his knees to stare at his clasped hands.

“What future can I offer you like this, Molly? Never able to leave this property? I was afraid this would happen. I tried to walk out of the cemetery that day—to follow you. I could not bear to see you go.”

I felt a hot tear slipped down my face.

“But something happened when I stepped into the road. I felt weak. Strange images and sensations came to me—colors, confusion, weakness. I made my way back into the cemetery, and it passed.” He grimaced. “Unable to understand what was happening and unwilling to attempt it one more time that night lest I die, I slept on the bench. In the morning, I tried to leave once again, but I decided to attempt the path between the cemetery and the house,” he nodded his head in the direction of the trees beyond the pond. “As you see, I am still here.”

“I don’t understand, Darius.”

He shook his head, and his shoulders sagged.

“Nor do I, my love.”

“So, you can go back and forth between the cemetery and the house? But you don’t think you can go anywhere else?”

His wry smile said it all.

“Well, the cemetery is where I first ‘appeared,’ don’t you remember? It seems likely that I cannot leave the land that was once mine. The land that I loved.” He raised dejected eyes to survey the property. “The land that now holds me prisoner.”

I jumped up. “Don’t say that! You’re not a prisoner here. I’m here.” I pointed toward my chest.

Darius grabbed my hand and pulled me back down to sit beside him. He wrapped me in a fierce embrace and whispered in my ear.

“That is not what I meant, Molly. I would willingly be your prisoner for the rest of our lives—whatever that may be. But I cannot be the man I want to be for you. I cannot take care of you, provide for you, protect you.”

I squirmed restlessly in his arms, preparing to argue my case—our case. I pulled away to look at him.

“I can take care of myself, Darius. I’ve done it all my life.
I’ll
take care of us.”

Darius stared at me for a moment, his eyes hardening. He rose abruptly and went to stand by the railing, staring down the driveway to the road beyond.

“I am unmanned by the thought, Molly. How will we go on then? Will I cook and clean for you while you take care of me and buy my clothing, my toiletries, my food?”

The bitterness in his voice frightened me, and I fell silent—unsure what words might make the situation worse.

He turned to face me, bracing his palms on the railing behind him, a harsh set to his jaw.

“I could wish that I had never ‘appeared’ here—in your time—but I cannot bear the thought of losing you again. I love you, Molly. I think I must set about proving my worth to you. I will rebuild this house such that it will protect you from all harm. I will take care of you so that you have the strength to provide for us.” The break in his voice tore at my heart. “I will tend to your every need as best I can given my limited means. And if you should find me a burden, you have only to say the word, and I will be gone. If nothing else, I now know how to leave.” On that bitter note, Darius turned and strode down the length of the porch and around to the side of the house and out of sight.

I sat in stunned silence for a moment, staring at the emptiness where he had stood only a moment ago. Then I gave myself a quick shake, jumped up and ran after him. I stopped short, though, when I saw him on the other side of the pond. He was down on one knee with his head bent.

I had to let him grieve.

Tears flowed down my face as I backed away. I returned to the front of the house and sank back down onto the loveseat. With my hands lying limply in my lap, I let the tears fall silent and unchecked.

I had no idea what the future would hold for me, but any time I could spend with Darius was precious. I would work at home as I always did, go to the store if needed, order things online and over the telephone. And we would manage.

The tears froze on my face as I remembered that Sara was coming for a visit in two weeks. What were we going to do? How would I explain Darius to Sara? Would I tell her he lived at the house? Sara would never understand. I bit my lip. It didn’t matter because I didn’t understand either. I rubbed the tears from my face and jumped up restlessly. We had a few weeks. I would deal with it another time.

For the rest of the morning, I wandered around on the pretext of unpacking boxes while I watched Darius from various windows in the house. He paced back and forth from the front yard to the back yard, pausing occasionally in the garden to stare skyward at the oak trees, then back down to the ground as he jammed his hands in his pockets and scuffed some imaginary leaf. He reminded me of a caged animal. I followed his progress toward the back of the yard, and from the kitchen window, I watched him explore the old cabin and shed out back. My heart jumped to my throat when I saw him take a tentative step into the corn field. I froze as I watched him stretch a hand out in front. He was too far away for me to see if there was any reaction, but to my relief, he dropped his hand and strode back to the side of the house next to the garden.

I ran to the living room window and then around to the large picture window next to the front door to follow him as he walked down the driveway to the end of the road. He paused at the edge of the drive and put his hands out in front as a blind man without a cane might do.

I couldn’t see what happened, but whatever transpired, he swung around and stalked back up the drive with one hand on his forehead. I couldn’t take it any more. I wrenched open the front door and burst out onto the porch.

“Okay, so what happened?”

“I beg your pardon?” He climbed the porch steps.

“So? Did you disappear again? Your hands?”

He pressed his lips together and nodded.

“Yes, it is the same. Strange images and sensations come to me. Colors, weakness.”

“Okay, so we’ll deal with it. You can ‘provide for me’ by rebuilding the house. You can take care of me by protecting me here. It’s actually terrifying to sleep alone in an isolated house.” I hoped he didn’t read too much into that statement, though perhaps he wouldn’t be misreading. “You can take walks with me to the cemetery. I love it up there, and I would welcome your company. You can be a man, if that’s what you feel compelled to call it, by accepting your fate—our fate—and learning to live with it.”

Darius narrowed his eyes and stared at me for a moment with an indecipherable expression. Then he moved toward me and swept me into his arms.

“Our fate,” he whispered as he pressed his lips against mine, ignoring my half-hearted and disingenuous efforts to push him away. I gave up the pretense and clung to him, winding my hands through the soft chestnut curls that I adored.

“I love you, Molly. I will always love you.”

“And I love you too, Darius. I still don’t know how or why, but I’m pretty sure I have loved you forever.”

I pulled away and cupped his face with my palms.

“We’re going to be all right, Darius. Just please don’t leave me. I don’t know how I’ve managed without you all these years.”

Darius smiled and wrapped an arm around my shoulders. He raised his head to survey the house.

“Well, if I am to be your carpenter, then I had better find some suitable work clothing. Any ideas?”

I chuckled with relief and dragged him into the living room where I pulled my laptop from its case, tethered my cell phone to it, and connected to the internet.

We spent the next few hours cruising the internet, while I watched Darius with loving tenderness as he ogled the screen, pushed buttons at random and occasionally lifted the computer to look under and behind it.

Life with him would likely never fail to surprise me. His interest in new things reminded me of the curiosity of a small boy, but one look at the set of his jaw or the strength of his muscular forearms left no doubt as to his maturity and masculinity. I sighed as if I had a schoolgirl crush.

We ordered some clothing on line based on calculations of his size. I tried very, very hard to keep a straight face when we got to the underwear. Darius preferred boxers, which appeared similar to the undergarments of his time—so he said—versus briefs, which shocked him with their skimpiness. He accidentally clicked on a page showing women’s undergarments, and the sight of the colorful and dainty lace lingerie brought a dull flush to his face. He looked away toward the garden window while I hurried to find the men’s clothing once again.

“You’re such a prude,” I murmured with a laugh.

“Am I?” he said in a bemused tone. “I did not know. I do not think I have been...tested...as much as I have in these last few days.”