"Yes, I suppose you're right."
"How did you get Black Willow Grove?"
"When I realized I would never be accepted among planter society in Louisiana, Lebeau and I discussed our options. I decided to change my name, my background--in short, I became a different man."
"Jackson Durant."
"Yes."
"Then who were you before?"
"I was born Jacques Bondurant," he said softly, "and I suppose that inside, I'm still that poor Cajun boy who wants the whole world."
"You have what's important, no matter what happens. You have a wonderful daughter. You have the best friend I can imagine in Lebeau. And you have me."
"Rose is my reason for staying Jackson Durant, for putting up with the Thomas Crowders of the world. As long as no one knows my secret, she'll be safe from their jeers."
"What do you mean?"
"No one will ever call my daughter poor Cajun trash," he said fiercely. I haven't gone through all this to lose the life I've built for her, for us."
"Will there be an us?"
He leaned over her, his palm resting against her cheek. "Yes, because I want you," he whispered, "and I need you." Then took her lips in a deep, tender kiss that stole her breath and her heart.
She touched his chest, then slid her arms around his shoulders as he deepened the kiss. His skin burned like a furnace against hers, chest to chest, and she kicked at the cover. With a groan that came from deep in his soul, Jackson . . . Jacques . . . rolled her to her back.
He claimed her breasts with sure, loving hands, then a skillful, relentless mouth. Randi tangled her legs with his, wanting to be a part of him, of his life, of their future.
"Don't pull back this time," she whispered against his lips.
"What about--"
"Just don't. I want all of you, whatever may happen tomorrow to the day after. Just love me tonight."
"I do," he said softly, surging inside her with sure, strong strokes. "I do," he repeated, the vow ripped from deep inside as he quickened his pace.
She held tight, loving him, wanting him, and at last, joining him in an explosion of light and sensation. She held him so tight that she thought they'd be fused together as one. And indeed, they were, for he didn't leave her, but held her tight as they both drifted into an exhausted sleep.
Randi
knew she had only one choice left, and that was to help the man she loved try to save the plantation he'd worked so hard to possess. Everything in his life had led him to this point, where he could have the kind of place he'd dreamed of as a poor child, where his daughter could grow up in a society that offered her every advantage. Randi could understand his thinking, although she didn't agree with his idea of what would make him happy. She'd work on that later, though, once they got through this current crisis.
She didn't know what the future would hold for her. She didn't want to stay in the past, to live in this society. But she didn't want to leave Jackson and Rose either. She had to convince them to come away with her, if not into the future, then up north. Somewhere they'd be safe from the Civil War.
Jackson had bought and improved this plantation. He could do the same again. If he loved her . . .
He said he did. Last night had been tender and special. She would never forget the feeling of completion when they joined together. She and Jackson had touched something special, something eternal, as rare as her travel back in time.
With a deep breath, she zipped her jeans, then pulled her striped velour shirt down over the waistband. She couldn't go out and work in the mud and rain in voluminous skirts and tight bodices. She couldn't face the rising water already weighted down with yards of soggy fabric. At least in her own clothes she'd feel as though she could get away from the water, run to the house if the levee broke.
Although the morning was nearly gone, daylight barely lightened the hallway as she rushed up the stairs to the third floor. More clouds, more rain. She wondered how many days this could keep up. How high could the water rise before all the levees broke, and the land was completely covered for miles around?
"Suzette?" Randi entered the nursery to find the nurse with her fingers to her lips. She stepped out into the hallway so they wouldn't disturb the baby.
"Miss Rose just went to sleep. All this bad weather has her in fretful way."
"I know. I'm edgy myself."
"Why are you dressed like that?" Suzette asked, walking around Randi and staring at her jeans and top.
"I'm going outside to work with Jackson. Since most of the workers are still at Crowder's Point, he needs all the help he can get."
"Women don't work like that around here," Suzette told her, as if she were talking to someone who was slow.
"Where I come from, women and men do whatever they can to save what they love. And Jackson loves this plantation."
"And you love Mas'r Jackson."
"Yes, I do. I'm going to try to help him, and I'm going to try to save him."
"From the water?"
"Yes, this darned flood. I'm so frightened of it that I can barely stand looking out the window. If I didn't know what was going to happen, I might not be so scared for him."
"What do you mean?"
Randi shook her head. "Never mind. I can't explain right now. All I can say is that we have to keep the water out. After that . . . " She didn't know what else to say. Suzette was looking at her suspiciously.
"I'm sorry. I'm doing what I can to make things right. Will you please watch very carefully over Rose? I might not get to come up to see her for a while. You know I love her too."
"Yes, Miz Randi."
"I'm just going to take a quick look before I go outside." She tiptoed into the nursery. The bassinet where Rose had once lay was now pushed aside for a larger crib. There were no colorful Winnie the Pooh sheets or bright shapes bobbing over her head in a mobile, but the baby seemed happy. She would be happy wherever they lived. In the future, or somewhere else in this time. Somewhere safe . . .
Randi kissed her fingertips, then touched the same spot to Rose's forehead. "I'm going to do whatever I can to save us," she whispered.
Tears burning at her eyes, Randi silently left the room. She walked down the back stairs, her feet heavy on the narrow treads. She didn't want to face the sight and smell of all that water, but she had no choice.
She was surprised to find that the rain no longer poured down. A few sprinkles were all that she felt as she slugged through the mud and muck toward the small crew that manned the levee around the house.
Jackson wielded a shovel with determination, packing clay against a new, taller timber that had been driven into the ground by two large men with sledge hammers.
"Jackson."
He turned around, his face lined with sweat and dirt. Gone was the relaxed, tender lover from last night. This man was a warrior, out to protect his homeland from the invading flood. How could she not stand beside him, support him?
"What are you doing here? Why are you dressed like that?"
"I came to help. I know you're short of help since all the men are off at Crowder's break."
"I don't recruit women to do a man's work," he said, obviously trying to gently tell her to "get out of here."
"I know you think this is unusual, but I really can help. I'm strong and healthy. Just try to forget I'm a woman, okay?"
He shook his head, frowning. "You know I don't approve of those clothes."
"Long skirts aren't very practical for working in this muck."
"That's why this is men's work. Now please, go inside. Change clothes and stay dry. I'll be in later."
"Jackson, that's silly. I'm another pair of hands. I can help."
"Why don't you trust me to save my home?" he said, frustration and anger tensing his body. His white-knuckled grip on the shovel was all the evidence she needed that he was not going to listen.
"I trust you to do your best, but can't you see how unsure I am? The history book said you perished in this flood, Jackson. Right here, right now. How do you expect me to ignore what I read in black and white?"
"You only
thought
you read that," he said, enunciating each word carefully. You are not from the future. You don't know anything that's going to happen."
"Yes, I am from the future!" she shouted. "Why are you doing this to us?"
"I'm not the one who insists on such an absurd notion of traveling through time."
"It may be absurd, but it's the truth!"
"Randi," he said, grasping her shoulders, "you must face the fact that your fears and your dreams have mixed together. I don't know how or why you came into my house, but you did not tumble through some replica of this house. That's impossible. You walked up those stairs into Rose's nursery. Please, admit that fact. For me. For us."
She shook her head. "I didn't walk into your house. One minute I was in the museum, the next I was in her nursery."
Randi tore her gaze away from his set jaw and worried brow. Looking up to the third floor corner nursery, she wished she could see inside right now. She felt drawn to Rose, worried about the baby more than usual. Perhaps she shouldn't have left her with Suzette.
She almost imagined she could hear the baby crying. That was ridiculous, of course. Suzette had the windows closed against the spring chill and dampness.
"I wish you'd look at my proof. With all the problems, and with you being gone, I forgot to show you my pictures and my driver's license. Once you see them, you'll understand."
"Randi, please don't persist in your claims. I cannot believe you."
"Jackson, if you truly loved me, you'd believe me."
"You ask too much. You've asked me to change how I feel about my life, my daughter, my own dreams. You ask me to ignore the flood and my responsibilities here. I cannot do that. I may have been raised poor, but one thing I learned was to live up to my role as a man."
"I'm not trying to make you less of a man! I'm trying to help you save the home you love . . . and your daughter."
"We are not in any danger. This levee will protect the house.
I
will protect what I love!"
"Jackson, please--"
"No! I will not have my woman working like a common field hand, dressed in clothes that should have been taken away and burned. And I won't give in to your demands that I run away. I'm no coward! I'm the master of this plantation, and you will accept that fact!"
She stepped back, knowing she'd crossed the line of what Jackson could tolerate. He was a proud man, a man who had changed much in the last three weeks. Instead of focusing on those changes, she'd kept asking him to trust her to know what was right for him and Rose. But she'd wanted to save him . . . to love him and Rose.
"I thought I was doing what was best, Jackson. Please understand."
"You're headstrong, Randi, and I understand that. But you ask too much."
"I can't give up on my hopes to save you."
"I can't run away from my responsibilities or my dreams."
Tears burned her eyes. The sun came out from behind a cloud, giving her an excuse for blinking and looking away. The air about them seemed charged by the welcome light. Even a few birds began to chirp and sing. The sound of water, lapping against the levee, sent a shiver of fear through her now that the rain and the shouting had stopped.
"Do you feel it?" she whispered.
"I feel tired and angry, Randi. What do you feel?"
"Like something is going to happen. She looked around, wondering if the water was going to break through. Thinking it might rush over the top and engulf her in mud. Above the pounding of her heart, she heard Rose's faint cries.
"I have to go into the house," she said, her gaze darting to the upstairs window. "Do you hear her?"
"Hear what?"
"Rose. She's crying."
Jackson stilled, looking upstairs. "I don't hear anything but the usual sounds of spring."
"No, I can hear her. She needs me." Randi heard the panic in her voice, but couldn't control the rising fear.
"Randi, calm down. We'll go check on Rose. Then you can lie down. You're distraught."
"I'm not distraught. Women from 1998 do not get distraught. I'm scared to death!"
He took her arm. "Come along. This is why ladies shouldn't attempt strong labor." He took a few steps toward the house, pulling her through the churned-up muck.
"That's the dumbest thing you've said since I got here," Randi said, jerking away from his grasp. "And I can't believe you don't hear Rose. She's your own daughter and she's crying." She took off on her own, her feet slipping and sliding.
"Let me help you."
"Why? You won't let me help you."
"Don't be ridiculous. You help in different ways."
"It's not enough!" Randi cried, throwing her hands over her ears. "Can't you understand that I have to make sure you and Rose are safe. And she won't stop crying!"