Edge of Time (Langston Brothers Series) (4 page)

When she looked up there was no mistaking the worry and loneliness in her eyes. “I was a history major in college,” Genie went on, “so I have no illusions about this conflict and what sort of devastation it will bring to the south.”

Marissa spoke then, moved by the other woman’s emotions. “Genie, your whole family is fighting for the Confederacy, but you already know the outcome of the war and
—
” Marissa stopped, groping for the right words to voice her question.

Genie laughed, though no hum
or shone in her clear blue eyes.
“You want to know which side I’m on?” At Marissa’s affirmative nod the other woman continued, “I stand by my husband’s memory, but truthfully I cannot put my heart into the cause. All of Charleston knows how I abhor slavery and I think most of my family and even some of my neighbors know I secretly sympathize with the Union.” Genie lifted he
r shoulders in a helpless shrug.
“Although it isn’t so much sympathizing as having no faith in a hopeless cause. You just have to support the people you love. Because when the fighting is over the people are the only thing left, it doesn’t matter which side of the barrier they fall on because in the end there will be a lot of pieces to pick up.”

Thoughtfully Marissa nodded and a vision of the handsome officer she had met the day before flashed before her mind’s eye
.
“And what about the Confederate officer who was here yesterday?” For whatever reason, she could not banish the sight of those intense cerulean eyes from her mind.

An arch smile spread across Genie’s pretty face. “Impressed, were you? Dr. Langston. His entire family has lived in the Charleston area for years.” Her cheery demeanor returned in an instant. “I volunteer at the hospital a couple days a week and he was kind enough to come out and look at my mare that is close to foaling.”

Her voice took on a wistful quality, “I tell you, if I were twenty years younger I would have a mind to chase after that man myself, or one of his brothers. There are four Langston boys in all, and every one of them as handsome as he is. They take after their father.” Casting a suggestive look in Marissa’s direction she changed the subject slightly. “Which reminds me
—
” Genie tapped a finger on the table “
—
we need to inquire about a job for you at the hospital. I gave it much more thought after we discussed
it last night and I think it will be
just the thing for you.”

Marissa opened her mouth to protest, but
Genie
cut
her short with
a wave of
the
han
d. “W
e can’t very well play off of your nursing knowledge,
but we’
ll tell them that you trained alongside your father who was a doctor.”

Marissa had to smile at Genie’s enthusiasm for seemingly all aspects of life, and then decided it may not be such a bad idea to get a job. It would provide a necessary distraction while she worked toward getting home and she could at least pay Genie back for her help and kindness. Marissa had heard many a tale about the hardships that the citizens of the Confederacy had undergone and anything she could do to prevent straining Genie’s life further would be welcome. “Actually,” Marissa said throwing Genie a conspiratorial glance, “my father is a doctor, or was… or will be… Oh, I don’t know how to put it. This is all so confusing!”

Her friend flashed an unders
tanding and compassionate smile.
“I know, Marissa, but I do promise you that it gets better.”

Desperately trying not to succumb to tears, Marissa choked back a sob and instead said with a smile, “Okay, but how long before you stopped reaching for light switches on the wall?”

“Oh,” Genie chortled
gleefully, “Never! I still do.”

*
             
*
             
*
             

M
arissa spent the day with Genie Harris helping her adjust to her new surroundings. Hah! As if it was possible to adjust. Marissa followed her dutifully around the farm, met Fredrick and Grace, the elderly black couple the Harris’s employed to help her with the farm a few hours each day, and made a half-hearted effort to keep up with Genie’s constant strain of chatter.

All she could
focus on was that it was hot! And dusty! And totally without modern conveniences!

Marissa grew more frustrated by the hour, though she did find the ice house truly intriguing in that even in the intense southern heat it stayed cold.
She’d never considered where the ice had come from, but Genie explained it was cut from frozen lakes in the north, insulated in sawdust or straw and transported into the south. Marissa wasn’t sure which point was more fascinating, that the ice was actually transported from the north, or that sawdust made such an adequate insulator.

The bathhouse reminded Marissa of just how desperately she missed her shower, and bubble baths, and
dear Lord
—
antibacterial soap.

And the privy
—
nothing mo
re need be said about the privy.
It was a privy.
T
hough i
n all honesty Marissa had to admit she’d used
worse
facilities
at her grandparents’ mountain cabin.

It was all downright depressing.

Antiquated items that she’d never realized existed were now necessities that positively boggled her mind and she’d finally begged Genie to limit the day’s lesson to use of the stove, kerosene lamps and water preparation for baths and laundry.

Late in the afternoon the women passed by the chicken coop and Genie pointe
d through the netting. “That is Toughie,
”
she said.
A gnarly old rooster glared at them from his confines. “He is the meanest rooster I’ve ever seen, and if he gets out you just duck and run for cover.”

Marissa cocked a brow and glared back at the rooster who looked ready to eat them alive.

“If we let Toughie loose he could probably stand down the entire Yankee invasion and end the war today!”

“Well, what are you waiting for, maybe you could change history after all,” Marissa suggested wryly.

“It is tempting isn’t it?” Genie smiled back. “But I mean it. Watch out if he ever gets loose.”

The woods came into view, looking darker than was natural and the unease she’d experienced since being a teenager settled over Marissa. “Genie, have you heard that old story, or maybe it’s a new story now, about a murderer in the woods over there? I’ve been afraid of this house since I was a kid because of it.”

T
he other woman nodded instantly.
“I remember the story, but as far as I know there is no murderer in the woods and there hasn’t been before now.” Genie shrugged. “Either the story is made up or the murders haven’t happened yet. I don’t know about you, but I prefer to believe that someone made up the legend to scare the living daylights out of kids on Halloween.”

“Okay.” Marissa nodded, grasping hold of the logic and her thoughts flew back to more pressing issues. Vaguely, she remembered hearing that life in this era was simpler. Well, whoever had said that was wrong!

“‘Okay’” is not a term you should be using,” Genie said gently. “Try to purge it from your vocabulary because it could mark you as not being from here even more than your accent will. It’s not a common term in Charleston in this time. Remember I said I was a history major. I think the term came into being around the end of the 1830s, in Boston, where some historians believe it was short for the slang term ‘orl correct.’ But others date it a little later, in the 1840s when a man named Martin van Buren used it, calling his preside
ntial platform ‘the O.K party’—
because his nick name was Old Kinderhook, name of the place where he grew up.”

“O
—
” Marissa broke off quickly. “All right, I’ll try to remember. I wouldn’t want to be mistaken for
a
Yankee
.”

By the end of the day her mind was whirling with the effort of learning an entirely new way of life. It was rather like visiting a third world country she supposed, except that this was her country! The glamour she had perceived from watching movies about this era was definitely overrated. Everything was filthy, dusty, and hot. There was no TV to relax in front of, no showers to wash the sweat from her grimy tired body. No pint of chocolate ice cream conveniently stashed in the freezer to wallow away her sorrows.

D
esperate to escape the cruel twist of fate known as her life Marissa went to the field and spent the better part of an hour stomping angrily across the stretch of grass that had thrown her into the past.
Was this destiny?
Had fate played some sort of cruel joke on her? Or had she gone completely insane?

“I wasn’t serious when I wished on that star,” she grumbled
,
shaking a fist toward the blue, cloudless sky. “My life wasn’t
that
bad.”
Or maybe it was…

Finally tiring of the endless trek across the field Marissa sighed and, taking care to cut a wide swath around the chicken coop, wearily mounted the porch steps. Perching on the wooden swing facing the field she gazed at the beautiful country around her and drew a deep cleansing breath.

The air smelled fresh and clean, and the quiet was peaceful in a way she had never experienced. There was no noise or smell from passing cars and trucks, and the occasional horse or buggy traveling along the hard packed dirt road
provided
a nostalgic quality that she found oddly comforting.

Stretching her neck she looked out over the field, catching a glimpse of the blue sky around the edge of the porch roof as she enjoyed the sheltering shade
. I
t was incredible, almost unfathomable, but
for the first time in weeks, maybe even months, she didn’t feel overwhelmed by life. Considering her world had been turned topsy-turvy a mere twenty-four hours before she could only credit the change to shock; though she did seem a bit too rational for shock, which left madness as an alternative. But be it madness or shock, she felt relaxed. And she liked it. Her job had become so stressful lately she hadn’t taken the time to look at the sky or steal even a moment for herself. Not to mention the whole ordeal with Brian. Stretching her arms out in fron
t of her she gazed at her hands,
they looked remarkably feminine with the delicate coral sleeves framing her slender wrists.

*
             
*
             
*

Craig Langston stopped dead in his tracks as he cut across Mrs. Harris’s yard. Marissa McClafferty was quite simply a vision sitting on the porch.
Sunny
hair cascaded dow
n her back in waves of buttery
silk and the gentle breeze brushed soft strands enticingly across her cheeks. Craig imagined how it would feel to brush those errant locks away from her smooth skin, letting his fingers linger on the creamy flesh. Her huge brown eyes were cast downward and the slightest hint of a smile curved the corners of her full, pink
—
kissable
—
lips.