Across the Winds of Time (33 page)

Cynthia looked at Laura with a question on her face, and Laura shrugged.

“I don’t know. We didn’t ask. It was long, long before we were born.”

I nodded and forced my lips into a semblance of a smile.

“Did you happen to remember anything more about your great-great uncle, Darius?” Even saying his name seemed to tear me in two, and I raised my hand to my face to cover my struggle for air. Darius was dead. I couldn’t breathe.

“No, nothing more than what we said. He disappeared, I think. Well, no one knew where he was buried, so my family guessed he disappeared. They couldn’t remember.” Laura swung her gaze to Cynthia. Neither one of them seemed to notice that I was about to faint. I couldn’t breathe.

“That’s right, Laura. I think you might have had quite the crush on him as well to remember so much more than I do.” Cynthia grinned and shook her head. “Nope, no one knows where he’s buried.”

I wanted to stand up and scream, “He’s buried in the ashes of this house, that’s where he’s buried. He’s buried here...dead...burned.”

Sara stood swiftly and came over to my chair to put a soothing hand on my shoulder. I clutched at her hand, noting with faint surprise that my shoulder no longer hurt—not since Molly laid her hand on me.

Darius died looking for me, and I wanted to die as well. I really did not want to go on. The pain of losing him was horrific, but the guilt was so much worse. And I couldn’t fix it. I couldn’t make it right. Despite my best efforts, a hot tear slid down my face.

“Molly, are you all right? You look so distraught!” Cynthia asked. “Is it about the house? What can we do? Do you want to cancel the sale?” She swung a quick look at Laura. “We will do that, Molly. We should have remembered to tell you about it.”

“No,” I moaned as I clutched my stomach and bent over. “No, no, the house is mine. It’s mine. I want the house.”

“I think Molly is ill, ladies. I should take her inside.”

Laura stood and put a competent hand on my forehead.

“She does have a bit of a fever. You should put her to bed, Sara.”

Sara pulled my unresisting body up. There was no one to wait for...no need to watch the road any longer. Darius was not coming. He was dead.

Laura helped Cynthia up, and they said goodbye as Sara held my limp body to her side while we watched them go. Sara watched them go. I fought against overwhelming nausea.

“We’ll come back to see you before we go,” Cynthia called in a strained voice as Laura walked her across the porch and to the car. “Maybe we’ll see that nice man who’s doing your remodel when we come back. Get better soon,” she sung out as Laura put her in the car.

I put a hand to my face and moaned.

“Bye now,” Sara called as she sprang into action and dragged me into the house. She pulled my dead weight up the stairs and half carried me to the bed.

“Oh, Molly, I’m so, so sorry. I just can’t imagine—”

She must have stopped talking—or I couldn’t hear her anymore after I rolled over, buried my face in my pillow and started screaming.

My memories of that night were chaotic and few. I screamed, I cried, I pled with Sara to change the facts, I struggled to rise and return to my vigil only to remember that Darius would not come. At some point, I may have actually fainted and awakened again to begin sobbing anew.

Sara did her best throughout the long night to keep me safe and sane, and it was to her credit that I survived to see daylight.

When I awoke from a short fitful doze to see the lightening of dawn in the window, I realized that Sara had fallen asleep on top of the bed. She must have covered me with a blanket in the night, and I reached over to drape some of it over her still form.

I lay on my back and looked out of the window, wondering about the days to come. Sara had to leave today. She had preparatory meetings for school in the coming week. I suspected she would ask me to return with her for a while, but I couldn’t seem to visualize myself away from the house. With Sassy in tow—and Marmaduke—I would have to take the car, and I didn’t relish driving all the way back to Washington State...alone. Not at the moment.

I looked over at Sara. Her breathing was even. I slipped out of bed, found my shoes and made my way out of the bedroom. As I wandered down the stairs with no specific goal in mind, I started to look for changes—changes between this rebuilt house and the house in 1880. Nothing seemed different, other than the awful paint job. All the materials seemed to be the same. Whoever had rebuilt the house must have had Darius’s blueprints because it looked exactly the same.

I stood on the last stair and gritted my teeth. If I could just avoid even thinking his name, I thought I might be able to breathe without pain...and guilt.

Sassy looked up from the couch with a yawn but made no move to rise. Marmaduke came around the corner from the kitchen licking his lips.

I wondered if the cats realized he was gone.

I stepped down and crossed over to the door, pulling it open to step outside onto the porch. The eternal breeze shook the leaves of the oak trees in the front yard. The road was empty.

My heart skipped a beat, and then another. What if I...? Even my thoughts stuttered. What if I walked out into the road? Could I return to his time—to before the fire? Could I save his life—as he had tried to save mine?

My heart began to race as I flew off the porch and ran down the path. Marmaduke scrambled and jogged along beside me. I ran out into the road and came to a halt, thrusting my hands out in front of my face...waiting. I waited for the kaleidoscope of colors, the dizziness, the vortex. Nothing happened. I looked to Marmaduke who paced back and forth at the entrance of the drive.

“It’s not going to happen, is it, Marmaduke?” I dropped my arms and my shoulders sagged with exhaustion. I really hadn’t expected anything. The wind kicked up some dust from the road, and I looked up to trace its path. A small dust devil swirled to the left—in the direction of the cemetery. I turned and followed it, keeping my eye on the wispy thing as it darted here and there across the unpaved road.

I followed it to the top of the hill where it dissipated at the entrance to the cemetery. I could have wondered what I was doing there, but I knew. Since my return to the present time the day before, I’d had every intention of revisiting the cemetery as soon as possible. I wanted to see Molly’s stone again, and I wanted to see if Darius was buried there as well. Although, a fire...there wouldn’t be much left. I gave myself a shake.

I stepped under the black iron arches, instantly aware that the breeze had strengthened to the strong wind I’d come to love.

My hair flew about my face as I walked slowly up the short drive and turned left onto the gravel path. I neared the general vicinity of the white stone that had caught my attention when I first came to the cemetery—only a few short weeks ago, although it seemed more like a lifetime.

I saw it—the brightness seeming to outshine every other marker around it, but something was distinctly different about it. As I had before, I approached the stone and knelt down on my knees before it to trace the letters with my fingers.

The stone was cool to my touch...and marble—a bright white gleaming marble. And the writing was as clearly etched as if it had been engraved yesterday.

Molly Hamilton

28 years 2 mos 4 dys

Born 1 April 1851 Died 5 June 1879

Beloved Daughter

Across the Winds of Time

You Will Always Live On

I shook my head in disbelief. Was it possible? Had someone replaced her stone? I wondered if her family had returned to the area to arrange for a sturdier marker for her. Although she had shared her memories with me, I still could not think of her parents as anything other than strangers. I had my own memories of my own parents.

The addition of the last line was new.
You will always live on
had not been on her original stone. It seemed a lovely touch. She did live on in me. I had all her memories.

I laid my forehead against the cool stone and closed my eyes. I missed her. I’d only met her for a few short moments, but I missed her—my other self. It seemed likely that she had already been dead when I “met” her, but I wished I’d gotten the chance to know her. Would the world have been big enough for two of us? Would the laws of physics or time travel or whatever it was that governed that sort of thing allow for two Mollys?

We both had our memories of Darius—and she had shared hers with me. I knew that when I died, I wanted to be buried next to her. My other self. Two Molly Hamiltons lying next to each other. I smiled to myself. Wouldn’t that give future genealogists something to mull over?

I raised my head and looked at either side of her grave. Was there room for me? There seemed to be some space just to the right of the stone. I made a mental note to check with the town clerk to see if that spot was available. Because I knew that I would be staying in my Victorian house down the hill for the rest of my life—rebuilt as it was—for better or worse.

I rose to a standing position, and with a knot in the pit of my stomach, scanned the nearby stones looking for Darius’s name. Nothing remotely resembling his name was visible, and I knew it would take me days to cover every stone in the cemetery. I took a steadying breath of air as I reminded myself that Darius had died in the fire—and that most likely, there had been no body to bury. My stomach rolled over at the thought, and I staggered for a moment, putting my hand on Molly’s stone to steady myself.

Touching her tombstone somehow gave me strength, and I swallowed hard and straightened. I tilted my head to hear the loud rustling of the oak trees overhead. I loved the sound. I moved toward the peak of the hill, and when I reached the spot overlooking the valley, I lifted my arms in the strong current—willing myself to fly. I wriggled my hands as if I were touching Molly’s fingers as I had the day before. She was not there.

“Molly.” I heard a woman’s voice from behind. I turned around, half expecting to see my other half, Molly, once again.

And as if I were experiencing déjà vu, a movement underneath one of the massive oak trees caught my eye. It was just like the second time I’d returned to the cemetery. A figure stood there, beneath the canopy of the tree—although there was no shadow this time because of the early morning hour. Darius moved away from the tree with a tentative step. His clothing was formal as it had been the last time I saw him.

“Molly.” Despite the wind, I heard him repeat my name in a husky voice.

Cold sweat broke out on my forehead, and I put my hand to my mouth as if to hold back the morning’s breakfast—if I’d had any. For here—in the flesh—was the man of my dreams. And my déjà vu ended there.

“Are you a ghost now, Darius?” I called in a bemused tone with a loving smile. “I believe in ghosts now, you know.” I watched him walk toward me, and I rambled on. “I met Molly. Did she tell you? Did you see her? She’s so much fun. I really liked her.”

His handsome face wore a puzzled frown as if he was trying to hear me...or understand me. He continued to move toward me, his pace deliberate.

“I’m so glad to see you, Darius. I never thought I would see you again. I wasn’t in the house, you know,” I said conversationally. He came to a halt in front of me, as tall and vibrant as he had ever looked. Sudden tears slipped down my face, and I looked up at him. “I’m so sorry, Darius. It’s all my fault that you’re dead. I wasn’t in the house.”

He pulled me into his arms and buried his face in my hair. I heard his beloved voice speaking into my ear—husky, determined, warm.

“Molly, my love, I live. I am alive. No fire could come between us. Neither can a century of time.”

I turned my face toward his, and he kissed me—as passionately as he had the first time—as passionately as he had the last time he kissed Molly at their picnic more than a hundred years ago. A tremor ran through his arms as he held me against him tightly—kissing me one moment and whispering into my ear the next. The wind seemed to swirl around us, wrapping us in a cocoon as we clung together.

I had questions—many, many questions—but they could wait. I reveled in the feel of Darius’s arms around me, and I didn’t want to let go. What if he slipped away again? What if I couldn’t hang on to him? What if he was just a ghost? I couldn’t stop Molly from
leaving
. How could I stop Darius from leaving me?

I held onto him with all my might, pressing against the length of his body, desperately trying to mold myself to him as if, in some way, that would ensure we stayed together.

Darius finally lifted his head to look into my eyes. The glints of gold in his blue irises sparkled, and I held his gaze though my mouth trembled and I found I couldn’t breathe in the intimacy of his gaze.

He raised one hand to my face, holding me tightly with the other and traced the line of my cheekbone with his fingers.

“I thought I had lost you,” he murmured in a rough voice. “When I saw the house burning and Mrs. White told me she thought you were inside—” He broke off. I saw a muscle working in his jaw, and a hint of moisture made his eyes glitter. He swallowed. “I lost you once, and I wanted to die. I could not lose you again,” he whispered as he bent his head to kiss my lips again. His lips traveled across my face to my cheek before he raised his head. He swallowed hard and he gritted his teeth.

“I’m so sorry,” I whispered. “I was here at the cemetery. When I got back to the house, Mrs. White said you’d gone inside to find me. She said you didn’t come out...” I reached up to cradle his face—to reassure myself that he was unharmed. “I tried to find you, but Mr. White and his son, they held me back—they carried me into the road, and...” I fought against the tears of frustration and grief that erupted at the memory. “I ended up here...and I couldn’t get back to you.”

His face broke, and he bent to kiss the outer corners of my eyelids where the tears had begun sliding out despite my best efforts to keep them in check.