Authors: Rose Anderson
“Yes, please, I’m here to see Mr. Jason Bowen. I sent a telegram ahead of my arrival. Is Mr. Bowen at home?”
The housekeeper pulled the Western Union missive from her pocket. “Yes, it arrived an hour ago. But I’m sorry, miss. Dr. Bowen went on his rounds. I’ve yet to give it to him.” Tucking the telegram away, she opened her watch locket. “I expect he’ll be along any time now, as the dinner hour is nearing. He rarely misses dinner unless he’s delivering a baby or easing a passing.” She stepped back and opened the door wider. “Would you care to wait inside?”
“It’s such a lovely day. Might I wait in the gazebo? From what little I see from here, the grounds here are extraordinarily beautiful.” It had been an absolutely grueling day, and she was both tired and hungry. It would be nice to rest in the shade.
“It
is
a lovely place to wait. Dr. Bowen is as fond of flowers as his mother was, Lord bless her dear soul. He keeps her gardens cared for.” The fond memory made the housekeeper smile. “When he arrives, I’ll let him know where to find you. How about I bring you a nice lemonade while you wait?”
That sounded so good, but she didn’t know this town. She had a long way yet to go, and it was better to avoid the privy if she could. The small confines of public outhouses were next to impossible to turn around in with skirts, and she didn’t think it wise to leave her two valises and doctor’s bag unattended on the other side of the door. She forced her thirst down where she’d held it all morning and replied gratefully, “Thank you no. I’m fine.”
The housekeeper eyed her, “Excuse me for saying it, miss, but you look fairly parched. I’ll tell you what, I’ll bring it anyway and you can decide at your leisure.”
“Thank you.” Lanie gave her a wide smile then turned and headed to the large formal garden at the side of the house. Needing to see to all manner of legalities, she’d literally been all over town today having completely missed the fact the Fourth of July celebrations were to take place on Saturday and the streets were jam-packed with preparations for the ensuing parade and festivities. Anticipating at least a week’s stay in this town because there was just so much to be seen to, she’d sent a telegram on to her father’s foreman asking him to book a room and enough meals for her stay at a rooming house. He chose the O’Hara Inn because it ‘had the cleanest rooms and best fare in town’. To her great disappointment, it hadn’t been possible to check her bags when she got off the train, and she had to wonder why Mr. Paxton would book her stay at an inn so far from the depot, the mill and everything she needed to attend to. After meeting the man, she had the impression that was exactly the reason he’d chosen it for her.
Lanie lugged her bags down the cobbled path, her arms aching from toting them here and there. She’d tried to pack light for the week, but they were heavy nonetheless. Her ankles began to throb the moment she sat down, so she set her bags before her and put her feet up. Loosening her hot collar and removing her straw bonnet, she resisted the urge to plunge her feet in the nearby fountain. Lulled into relaxation by the dappled sunlight and mumbling bumblebees, she rested her head on her arm intending to close her eyes for only a minute.
* * * *
Afraid to find the doorknob would have no more substance than he, Jason flexed his fingers before touching the front door. That it opened thrilled him beyond belief. He hadn’t been able to leave the house since he found himself attending his own memorial service, as contrived an event as it had been. Standing on the wraparound porch, he took in the sights and sounds of the world in which he had lived. The detail of her dream was simply amazing. He could even smell his mother’s flowers and hear the hummingbirds and bumblebees. A ding-dong-ding caught his attention, and he turned to see the ragman’s cart slowly rolling down the street. The waving man called, “Good afternoon, Doctor Bowen.”
The name came instantly to his mind. “How are you, Mr. Singer?”
“That boil you lanced is gone as you said it would be. I can’t thank you enough, Doctor.”
As if it occurred yesterday, Jason suddenly remembered the nasty, plum-sized abscess he’d lanced and drained a hundred and twenty-three years before. “Glad to hear it.”
Heading toward the gazebo where Addy suggested he go to see the woman who’d come to call, he found Lanie there exactly where his housekeeper said she be, sitting on the bench asleep and leaning upon her arm. He took the moment to drink in the sight of her, unable to decide if she were prettier in his time or in hers. Her time left nothing to the imagination, her rounded curves, her shapely legs covered by trousers that were so tight they looked to be painted on. In his time she was a mystery, one that beckoned a man to unravel. He wondered about the heavy looking valises sitting at her feet and noticed her scuffed shoes. She’d obviously been out walking today, and he could only imagine where her dream had taken her. He braced his arms upon the rail and leaned close to whisper for her ears alone, “Wake up, lovely lady.”
“Oh!” she said, startled, her cornflower blue eyes large. “I’m sorry, I must have drifted off.” She hastily buttoned her collar. “Dr. Bowen, I presume?”
He smiled. “Jason Bowen at your service, ma’am. I’m told I have a visitor and I find you. How may I help you, Miss…?”
“Elaine O’Keefe. Pleased to make your acquaintance, sir.” She held out her hand, which he took and bowed over.
“Miss Elaine O’Keefe. Elaine, do friends perhaps call you Lanie? May I as well?”
How he came to guess her less formal moniker she couldn’t say, but the question left her mind the instant he smiled.
“Why…yes, yes of course.” He was nicely made, tall and broad-shouldered with beautiful amber-colored eyes and soft-looking dark brown hair. His features were extremely pleasant and startlingly familiar.
How incredibly handsome you are.
His smile widened. “Then you shall call me Jason.”
The smile lit his eyes and made him more handsome if that were possible. Her cheeks warming, she returned it. “Jason.”
Jason’s heart tripped. Seeing her smile at people nearly every day was nothing compared to having that loveliness directed at him.
Taking a seat across from her with his forearms on his knees, he leaned forward with interest. “So how may I be of service, Lanie?”
“My father has passed away…”
“I’m sorry.”
“Thank you. He’s died and left me properties, two businesses, a textile factory, and a small millinery shop. The clothing shop also sells the textiles you see, mostly ribbons and broadcloth—”
He said suddenly, “Your father was James O’Keefe.” Yes, he could see the resemblance around her eyes. That he suddenly knew her in this past life surprised him. No sooner had the thought appeared in his mind when he remembered as a boy he’d once met a pretty black-haired, blue-eyed girl.
James O’Keefe’s daughter, Lanie.
It had been a year or so before his father went to war. There were too many coincidences where Lanie was concerned. There had to be a reason she’d walked into his world.
“Yes. And you are one of his major investors.”
He couldn’t fathom what significance this unusual turn of events held. His mind raced. “Indeed I am. I inherited all my holdings from my father, also deceased this past March.”
Lanie could see the grief in his eyes, and for some reason it felt as heavy as her own. “I’m sorry. It’s difficult to lose one’s parent.”
Her genuine sympathy touched Jason. “Thank you.” He’d been close with both parents. His mother had died in childbirth when he was eleven and his father never remarried, having determined he’d never find a love like that again so why bother searching for it. The man had built this house for his wife, and she’d filled it with love and flowers. Jason thought marrying Cathy would bring him the same. How wrong he’d been.
“You see, Dr. Bowen, as the…”
“Jason.”
She smiled again. “
Jason.
As the largest share holder, I was hoping you might be interested in…”
“Jason! Where
are
you?” An impatient voice called from the courtyard on the other side of the hedges.
“I’m here, Cathy. We have a guest.” How had this traitorous creature managed to come into Lanie’s dream?
The pretty blonde rounded the corner and walked toward them. “Hello, and who might you be?” she asked Lanie with obvious suspicion in her tone though she smiled prettily.
“My dear, this is Miss Elaine O’Keefe. Her father once owned the textiles mill I hold shares in. Miss O’Keefe, may I present my wife, Cathy.”
“Pleased to meet you, Mrs. Bowen.”
Cathy eyed her up and down. Her gaze lingered at the valise and her brows drew together ever so slightly. “And I’m pleased to meet you, Miss O’Keefe.” Then niceties having been said, she abruptly turned to her husband. “Bertha is coming to dinner, and she’s bringing her brother, Richard. You must hurry to dress.”
Lanie felt uncomfortable though nothing untoward was said.
Jason’s jaw tightened at the familiar exchange. He remembered now. This was the first occasion to meet the man who not only helped to murder him but made him a cuckold as well. He played along. “Yes, your dear friend Bertha, how delightful. And
Richard
…I don’t think we’ve had occasion to meet…”
She waved him away. “I’ve told you the three of us grew up together…really, Jason, there is no time. They’ll be arriving shortly. Please go and change for dinner.”
He turned to Lanie. “Please join us for dinner, Miss O’Keefe.”
“I–I…” Unsure, Lanie looked from one to the other.
Cathy shot him a glance before her good manners kicked in. “Yes, do,” she insisted sweetly.
“If you’re sure it will not be a bother, I
would
like to discuss the properties and have an answer as soon as possible.”
Far off in the distance, a persistent ringing began. Lanie woke to the morning light and a phone call. “Hello…?” she said sleepily. “Oh, hi, Lexie.” She yawned then answered, “Yes, the work is going fine. I just wore myself out yesterday and slept like the dead. No, it’s okay, I’m awake now. No, really.”
Jason listened to Lanie’s side of the conversation in half measure, the curious dream filling his mind. After their shared dream, he determined that whatever was in play was extremely important and would continue on to completion. He couldn’t wait for this day to end so he could enter her dream again. By his calculation, the timing of the dream was days shy of one month until they’d managed to murder him. Why would she dream of that time? And what about that fact he’d known her then? He thought long and hard. No, at least twenty-five years had passed from the time he’d seen her as a girl to seeing her as a grown woman. Jason shook his head. Her dream had left him feeling alive again, and he momentarily forgot he’d been dead for more than a century. It hadn’t been twenty-five years. Roughly
one-hundred-fifty
years had passed since the pretty little black-haired girl came to his house with her father. Again he had to wonder at the meaning of living his time in her dream. It made no sense. Her conversation pulled him from his reverie.
“Okay…sure…dinner at seven. I’ll meet you there, but listen, I
won’t
be staying late.” She laughed. “You know I appreciate your blind dates, but I don’t have time for a relationship right now. Yes, honestly. Lexie, I’m serious. Of course. Okay. I’ll meet you three for dinner. Did Pete tell him it’s going to be an early night for me? Good. No, don’t pick me up. If I drive I can leave when I need to without impacting your evening.
Not
a problem, I prefer it that way. See you later. Love you, too. Bye.”
Lanie set the cell phone on the night stand and grumbled, “I love you, Lex but God
damn
it, you woke me
right
in the
middle
of it. Stop trying to find me ‘the perfect man’.” Her eyes opened wide when she suddenly remembered an important piece of her dream. The nameless man she’d been dreaming about for years had a name now. He was Dr. Jason Bowen and this was Bowen house. “I already found one.”
Only it wasn’t empty. The man the local legend called a ghost still lay beside her.
* * * *
Lanie sat on the stairs, pulling old carpet tacks from the bunching old runner and talking on the phone to Lexie about their dinner plans. She had no idea Jason sat on the stair above carefully contemplating how he might reveal himself without frightening her. Discovering her tack hammer misplaced for the third time, she gave up on the frustrating task and went to get ready for her blind date.
Her bath had the same effect on him as it had the other times he watched her bathe. She stood wrapping hair and body in thick towels, looking for all the world like she’d just emerged from the Turkish baths. Over her shoulder, in the mirror, he watched her fascinating application of tints and lash color, though, in his opinion, she was just as beautiful with as without. His cock grew soft once she began to dry her hair with a gadget he had never seen before. Margaret certainly didn’t have one of these noisy electrical hot air blowers. His body roused again when she put her undergarments on. Her pantalets were nothing more than a Y-shaped piece of material that accented her adorable rounded backside. Her brassiere was crafted from very feminine black lace, low enough that the rosy hue of her areolas slightly peeked above the edge. A French milliner couldn’t have chosen better. She dabbed perfume behind her ears, on the inside of her wrists and at the spot above her heart. Although the fragrance was faint, he was surprised he could smell the familiar floral scent on her as she passed. That sense had been dead as long as he. Holding this piece of clothing or that before her, she appraised her reflection in the mirror with each. After four considerations, the dress she settled on was black and short—
too
short. He found himself frowning.