A Wife In Time

“Looking for you,” Kane replied. “I told you I wasn’t done talking to you.”

“Well, I’m done talking to you.” With those words, she slipped past him and moved up the stairs with the rest of the tour group. To her dismay, Kane followed her.

“Only two people to a step, please,” the tour guide requested when Kane joined her on the stairs. “We’re trying to minimize the wear and tear on the structure.”

Wanting to minimize the wear and tear on her own composure, Susannah strove to keep her attention focused on holding up the long skirt of her dress as she climbed the steps. It was better than thinking about Kane—who was directly behind her.

He’d looked incredibly dashing in his black formal wear, white tie and tails complete with a starched collar true to the Victorian period. She could feel his eyes on her and she wished she were ten pounds lighter. Maybe fifteen. The dress did nothing to hide her full figure.

Kane was enjoying the view of Susannah Hall’s velvet-covered derriere. The stiff set of her bare shoulders radiated an ice-age chill. With her hair pinned up, he could see her pale nape as she leaned forward. For the first time since he’d arrived, he was glad he’d decided to attend this bash.

He’d been tempted to stay in his hotel room and wait for his brother’s call, but past experience told him that Chuck wouldn’t be back for some time yet. When his brother got in a snit, he tended to brood for hours. Kane would check in with him again when this party was over. Meanwhile, he planned on hounding Susannah until she relented and agreed to leave his brother alone.

At the moment, the tour guide was the only one talking. “The Whitaker house is a fine example of Federal architecture. In its heyday this house was at the center of Savannah society. At its low point, it was an apartment tenement in the 1930s and was almost torn down in the 1950s to build a parking lot when, thankfully, the Historical Preservation League saved it.”

Susannah shuddered to think of this lovely home being demolished and paved over. Sensing Kane coming closer, she edged around the person ahead of her. Throughout the tour of the second floor she managed to weave her way in and out of the crowd, always staying one step ahead of him.

“As you can see,” their guide continued, “the second floor houses the family’s bedrooms, which have been decorated with period furnishings. On the wall along the stairway you’ll see several family portraits, including that of Elsbeth Whitaker—who is said to have committed suicide on these very steps.”

Susannah rubbed her hands over her bare arms as a chill settled over her. She couldn’t see the painting due to the crowd of people still clustered in the hallway where she stood. Then the crowd parted and she saw a flash of the portrait—a white face and sad eyes. The image lingered even after she’d turned away.

“What’s up on the third floor?” someone asked.

“It’s a storage area that’s presently under construction and being renovated. It’s not open to the public,” the guide replied. “Now, on our way back down, remember that only two people are allowed on a step at a time, so please come down the stairs slowly and in groups of two.”

“We need to talk,” Kane growled in her ear. “I’m not letting you off the hook until you promise to stay away from my brother.”

“Go away!” she hissed, angrily pulling back from him. She needed to lose him and fast. She was feeling unsettled enough as it was, tonight. She wasn’t in the mood for any more confrontations. But there was no place to hide. Unless... Her gaze was drawn upstairs. Maybe she could ditch Kane by sneaking upstairs and waiting a few minutes until the coast was clear.

While the tour guide’s back was turned and she still had the protection of the crowd, Susannah did just that. She didn’t take time to think about her actions. She just did it. It was almost as if she were compelled to do so.

Kane was about to go down when he saw her out of the corner of his eye. Susannah was going up the stairs. Muttering under his breath, he went after her, slipping past the tour guide. He wasn’t going to let her get away from him that easily.

Instead of a storage room under construction as the tour guide had claimed, he saw a room that looked to be completely furnished although very dimly lit with a sort of flickering candlelight. He also saw Susannah, just over the threshold of that room.

Not wanting to get caught in a restricted area before he had a chance to talk to her, he whispered her name when he wanted to shout it.

Paying him no heed, Susannah moved forward, away from him and toward a bright blue light that was coming from a rocking chair in the far corner near the other entrance into the room.

Enchanted, Susannah forgot all about Kane. She was drawn forward, as if pulled by invisible forces. The nearer she got, the more the light shifted away from her toward the second doorway. Following it, for one instant she saw a face amid the ethereal blue light—it was the face of the woman in the portrait!

Kane was right behind Susannah as she reached out to touch the pool of light, but it disappeared as they stepped through the second doorway after it. Whatever it was they’d witnessed had vanished!

“Did you see that?” Susannah asked in a whisper. When he made no reply, she said, “You’re not going to tell me that you didn’t see it, are you?”

“I’m not telling you anything except to stay away from my brother,” Kane replied curtly.

“You sound like a broken record,” she informed him before hurrying back downstairs.

Kane let her go. She’d caused him enough aggravation for one day. He’d talk to her again tomorrow, get her promise to stay away from his brother then. God knew, he’d had an exhausting day with little to eat. As for that strange light they’d seen upstairs...it must have been a hologram, perhaps a future exhibit of some kind for the historical house.

The party was in full force now. The rooms were packed with people, all looking rather solemn. Glancing around, Kane didn’t see anyone he knew. With a crowd this large, he wasn’t surprised. After all, this was his first publishing convention. Normally he demonstrated his CD-ROM material at computer shows.

Heading straight for the food spread, he eyed the offerings with suspicion. Nothing looked good. And nothing looked substantial enough to stop the growling in his stomach. He remembered seeing a soda machine by the gift shop in the back of the house but when he headed that way, he couldn’t find it. Or the gift shop. But then, the house was a maze of rooms. Crowded rooms.

Kane tugged at his stiff collar again. “Damned monkey suit,” he muttered under his breath, sliding a finger beneath his collar and grimacing at the tightness of the fit. The place was getting unbearably hot. The air conditioner must not be working properly. That or the organizers were really sticking to historical accuracy for this party.

Either way, it was the last straw. Deciding that enough was enough, Kane opted to skip the rest of the party and go grab a cheeseburger and a huge cola with an extra order of fries. He was able to find the front door, although it took him a while to get there through the mad crush of people. He reached the front entrance the same time Susannah did.

“After you,” he said with a mocking bow that almost cut off his circulation at his Adam’s apple. The damn collar would be the death of him yet.

“I don’t know about you, but I’ve had enough of this fancy-dress stuff,” he announced as they stepped outside. “I’m heading for the closest fast-food joint and grabbing a thick cheeseburger with everything on it.” And after that, Kane planned on calling his brother.

Moving forward, he bumped into Susannah as she halted on the steps in front of him.

“Something’s not right,” Susannah murmured. Looking around, she searched for the cause of her uneasiness. She’d always been a great believer in trusting her instincts. Some people called it jumping to conclusions. Her grandmother claimed it was a touch of second sight. Whatever you called it, Susannah trusted the feeling.

The house faced a small park, one of many in this part of the city. The street had been lined with parked cars when they’d arrived. Now there were none. No cars anywhere—none parked, moving, nothing. “The cars are gone,” she noted aloud.

Kane looked around. “What cars? I came by bus.”

“There were cars parked all along the park across the street. Now they’re gone.”

“Probably only allowed to park there during the day,” he logically explained.

She shook her head. “Something just doesn’t feel right. There isn’t any traffic, either.”

“You’ve got an overactive imagination, do you know that?”

To which she replied, “I didn’t imagine that blue light upstairs. The one on the third floor. Surely you saw it, too?”

Kane didn’t answer as a couple walked by on the sidewalk. They were wearing costumes similar to those worn at the party and he was preparing to move aside to let them enter the house—when they walked past and entered a home a few doors down.

Susannah saw the couple, too, and the house they entered: a building she could have sworn was boarded up and empty when they’d arrived earlier that evening. “I’m telling you, I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” she murmured.

Two

“So you’ve got a bad feeling,” Kane retorted. “Probably caused by that crab dip at the party.”

“Very funny. Don’t tell me you don’t feel it, too.”

“I don’t eat crab dip.”

“I’m serious. Didn’t you see that couple walk into that house?” she demanded.

“Sure, I did.” Kane shrugged. “So what?”

“They were dressed—”

“In the same kind of stupid clothes we are,” he interrupted her. “Which means that there must be several houses being used for costume parties tonight. The publishing convention is huge. There must be plenty of these fancy shindigs being put on.”

“Perhaps, but I could have sworn that that building was boarded up when we got here earlier this evening. And how do you explain that blue light, that specter thing we saw up on the third floor?”

“Holograms,” Kane instantly replied. “It’s being done all the time. Haven’t you ever been to Disney World?”

Susannah didn’t buy his explanation for one minute. “I sincerely doubt that a historical house like this would be able to invest the money required for that kind of special effects— Wait a second! Look at the lights—”

“I told you it was a hologram,” he interrupted her again.

“I mean the streetlights,” she continued in a shaken voice. “They’re not electric.”

“Of course, they’re not. This is a historic district.”

Looking around, Susannah murmured, “There are no telephone lines, either.”

“They’re mostly underground these days.”

“Not everywhere. I’m telling you, there were telephone lines here when we arrived tonight. I distinctly remember them ruining the view.”

Just then, a horse and buggy went by.

Anticipating what she was going to say, Kane explained, “For the tourists.”

Another buggy went by, and then several men on horseback. Still no sign of a car, or truck or bus. Seeing Susannah’s expression, he said, “Okay, I admit this is starting to look a little strange. They’re certainly taking this period thing to extremes. Reminds me of Williamsburg. They take this re-creation thing to extremes there, too.”

“But we’re not in a historic village here. We’re in the middle of downtown Savannah.”

“Which has a fast-food place right around the corner and a burger with my name on it,” Kane declared with a sense of anticipation.

“I’ll join you,” Susannah hurriedly said.

“I didn’t ask you to join me.”

“It’s still a free country,” she defensively countered, determined to keep him by her side—which only went to show how uneasy she was feeling. Normally, Kane Wilder would be the last man she’d want to spend any additional time with. But then, nothing about their surroundings felt normal. Even the street pavement seemed different.

No more words were spoken as they briskly walked the short distance, Susannah trying to keep up despite the hindrance of her long skirt. Concentrating on holding up her hem in order not to have it drag on the ground, she almost rammed into Kane, who was standing frozen in the middle of the sidewalk. The man was solidly built, she hazily noted, especially for someone who was said to be a computer whiz kid. But then, as she’d told Roy from Marketing, Kane Wilder was no kid. He was too good-looking for his own good and he was wearing an all-too-familiar frown on his face. “It was right here,” he muttered, “and now it’s gone.” Turning to glare at her, he demanded, “What is this?”

“I don’t know,” she replied, trying not to panic. “I told you I had a bad feeling about this.”

“I must have gotten my directions turned around,” Kane muttered. “Maybe the burger place was this way.” Pivoting on his heel, he turned right and headed down the street only to find that there was nothing but houses in what should have been a commercial business area.

Frowning, Kane gave Susannah a look that clearly stated he held her responsible for this situation. “What’s going on here? Did you slip something into my drink? Either that or the punch I drank was a hell of a lot stronger than I thought,” he noted in an undertone as yet another buggy passed them by. “I must be either drunk or hallucinating.”

“I had nothing to drink at the party at all. And it’s highly unlikely we’d both be having the same hallucination,” Susannah observed, trying to be logical about things. It was the only way she could cope with their present circumstances—to take the situation bit by bit. Not to look at the large picture. Not yet.

“Then I must be dreaming,” Kane muttered. “That or I’m dead.”

“How do you figure that?” she demanded, chilled by his comment.

But he wasn’t listening to her anymore. “There’s only one way to find out.”

To her amazement he marched off, straight toward—

“Watch out!” Susannah shouted.

Kane ignored her warning...and walked smack into one of the metal streetlamp posts.

Picking up her skirts, Susannah rushed to his side as he stood swaying slightly.

“That was a stupid thing to do!” she told him. “What were you thinking of?”

“Hypothesis.”

She looked at him as if he’d scrambled his brain.

“I figured if I was dreaming, walking into the lamppost would wake me up,” Kane said, his voice brusque. “And if I was dead—”

“We’re not dead and we’re not dreaming,” she interrupted him.

“Fine, Einstein, then what are we doing?”

“I’m not positive,” she noted in a soft voice, as if speaking too loudly might cause them even further trouble. “But I think Einstein had a theory about this—the relativity of time.”

“Meaning what?”

“Meaning that something happened. We’re clearly not in the 1990s, anymore,” she stated, trying to sound as if this were a situation she’d run into before. The truth was that her instincts were on red alert. And, as her grandmother had always told her, Susannah had always had excellent instincts. She and Kane weren’t dead. They weren’t hallucinating. She felt sure of that. Which left precious few alternatives.

Susannah paused, only now noticing a paper pasted to the lamppost Kane had walked into. Peering closer, she gasped as she read the date on the handbill advertising a circus coming to town. Her instincts had been right. “Look at this handbill!”

“Unless it’s got directions to the nearest hamburger I’m not interested,” Kane muttered, rubbing the goose egg quickly rising on his forehead.

Someone was approaching them on the sidewalk. A man wearing a hat, and using a cane. A bushy muttonchop beard covered a great deal of his face. His clothing was like something from a movie set—one of those period pieces the film critics liked so much.

Was the man able to see them? Susannah wondered. Hear them? There was only one way to find out. “Excuse me, sir,” she hesitantly asked. “Could you tell me the time, please?”

The gentleman gave her a leery look, which meant he could see her and hear her, as well. Thank heavens! Relieved that at least she and Kane weren’t invisible, Susannah released the breath she hadn’t even realized she’d been holding.

Pulling his watch from his fob pocket, the man said, “The time is quarter past nine.”

“Thank you.” She could tell he was impatient to move on, so she went right to the heart of the matter. “And the year is...?”

At her question, the gentleman’s leery look now turned downright suspicious. “What kind of foolish prank is this? The year is 1884, of course.”

Susannah went cold all over. The year he’d just given her matched that on the circus handbill. She’d had her suspicions...but even so, hearing them confirmed—hearing the man say that it was 1884—left her feeling as if a rug had been yanked out from under her.

Eyeing Kane, who was still a bit unsteady on his legs, the bewhiskered gentleman muttered something about the downfall of civilization being caused by an overindulgence in alcohol before hurrying on his way.

It took her a moment before she could speak. “Did you hear that?” she whispered to Kane.

“Yeah, he thought I was drunk,” Kane replied irritably.

“The part before that. About the year being...1884.”

Kane nodded, grimacing as he did so. His head was hurting like hell. “I heard what he said. The old guy clearly isn’t playing with a full deck. Surely you’re not buying what he said, are you?”

“It would certainly explain a lot.”

“Oh yeah, right,” Kane noted mockingly.

“What if we have somehow traveled back in time?”

“It’s too ridiculous to even consider. Come on.” Grabbing her hand, Kane led her toward a larger thoroughfare with more foot traffic. “I’ll prove it to you.”

Everyone was dressed in period clothing suitable for the late 1800s. The crowd was mostly male. The gaslight from the streetlamps lacked the harshness of the piercing orange lights used in so many cities these days. All of Susannah’s senses were bombarded with proof of the time—the strong smell of horse manure mixed with human perspiration, the dull clip-clop sound of horses maneuvering buggies down the busy thoroughfare. The street itself wasn’t asphalt or blacktop but appeared to be softer, perhaps dirt or sand. Even the sidewalk beneath her feet was different—constructed of red bricks.

Everyone was wearing hats. Except Kane and her. While Susannah had been taking stock of the people, she realized Kane was approaching everyone walking by, asking them what year it was.

Recognizing the disapproving and suspicious looks being cast their way, Susannah tugged on her hand—the one Kane was holding in a cast-iron grip—bringing his attention back to her. “What are you going to do, keep asking until you hear an answer you like, or until they call the police?” she demanded in an undertone.

“Since when has asking a simple question been illegal?” Kane countered.

“Stop this,” she hissed, yanking her hand free of his grasp. “You’re embarrassing me.”

“We may have fallen through a time hole and you’re worried about being embarrassed?” he asked in disbelief.

Pulling him around the corner and out of the flow of foot traffic, she said, “I’m worried about being put in an asylum, the way you’re behaving! Trust me, they don’t treat people very nicely in Bellevue, or the local equivalent, in this day and age. So try not to make a spectacle of yourself, okay? We don’t want to draw attention to ourselves.” Tucking her hand in his arm, she led him back the way they’d come, deliberately walking at a slow and leisurely pace. Besides, with the long skirt of her heavy velvet dress, she could only travel at two speeds—slow and slower.

“This is all your fault,” Kane muttered, his head still throbbing. As they passed the infamous lamppost, he glared at it, before turning to glare at her. “Something must have happened when we stepped in that damn blue light. I told you not to go into that room!”

“No one held a gun to your head and made you come after me,” she retorted. “Listen, it’s useless to toss around accusations at this point. We have to go back into that room.”

He headed for the brick front steps of the house where they’d seen the blue light upstairs. “Fine. The sooner the better.”

“Wait a second. How are we going to get back inside?”

“By opening the door.” He did so before she could protest.

A servant hurried across the hall to greet them. “May I help you, sir?”

“We left something here earlier,” Kane explained. “Nothing to worry about. We’ll only be a minute.”

Luckily, another servant carrying a full tray of food required the first servant’s assistance in the crowded front parlor, thereby momentarily giving Kane and Susannah the free access to the stairway they required.

As Susannah quietly passed the doorway leading to the crowded parlor, she only now realized that while the party was still going on, the mood was definitely more somber than festive. Then her attention was focused on catching up with Kane, who was already halfway up the staircase.

Once they were safely on the third floor, she turned to him and said in dismay, “There’s no blue light here anymore!”

“Don’t panic. Try and remember exactly what we did. Maybe if we reenact everything exactly, we’ll end up back where we started, in our own time.”

Susannah nodded. It sounded as logical a suggestion as any she could come up with. “I got to the top of the staircase here and saw the blue light coming from the room. Then I moved from the landing over to this doorway. It was almost as if I was being drawn forward. There was this same flickering candlelight, but the brightest light—that strange blue light that isn’t here anymore—was coming from the rocking chair over there by the second door. I reached out to touch it, but it disappeared as I stepped through this second doorway.” As she softly spoke the words, she went through the motions she was describing. Then she stepped over the threshold, with Kane right on her heels, almost tripping on the hem of her red velvet dress.

“Did it work?” he demanded. “Are we back in our own time now?”

Peering out the third-story window, Susannah said, “I don’t think so. Hey, did you know that there’s a mirror up here aimed at the front porch? From the angle it’s set at, you can see who’s at the door.”

“Would you stop gushing over the furnishings,” Kane exclaimed irritably, “and do something useful instead.”

“I never gush,” Susannah haughtily informed him before another thought struck her. “I remember something else. For one second, I’m sure I saw a face in that strange blue light. The face of that woman in the portrait. Elsbeth.”

“Look, I’m willing to acknowledge the possibility of time travel here, but I draw the line at ghosts,” Kane stated emphatically.

Help!

Susannah’s eyes widened. “Did you hear that?” she whispered.

“Hear what?”

Help me!

Susannah’s breath caught, at both the painful urgency of the woman’s voice and the realization that she was hearing it inside her head. Could it be...Elsbeth? Was she communicating with her?

Did you bring us here? It was more a thought on Susannah’s part rather than a deliberate attempt to talk to the now-invisible ghost. She could see no sign of Elsbeth’s presence, but she did feel something.... She shivered and ran her hands up her bare forearms.

Are you there? Susannah felt the silent confirmation rather than heard it.

Did you bring us here?

Again the silent confirmation.

But why?

This time Susannah heard the whispery reply in her mind: To help me.

“Help you how?” Susannah asked aloud.

It was as if her spoken words temporarily cut off the silent bond between herself and Elsbeth, if that’s what it was, for there was no longer any reply. And Susannah’s own sixth sense told her that she was temporarily on her own here, aside from an irritated-looking Kane.