Authors: Cassandra Gannon
“I
don’t mind you pushing.” She said earnestly. “I’m not nearly so semi-frigid around
you.”
Jamie’s
mouth curved and he stepped closer to her. “If I could be with anyone --in any
century or world-- it would be
you
, Grace Rivera. You’re the only woman
for me. Now and forever. I’ve waited for you for more lifetimes than you can
imagine.”
“Well,
what’s the problem then?”
“The
problem is I
can’t
be with you. Not as a living, breathing man.”
More
tears traced down her face, each one burning through his soul. Fairies weren’t
supposed to weep. “But we can still have
this
and it’ll be enough.”
She whispered.
“It
won’t.” Not for Grace. She deserved so much more.
“So,
you’d rather be alone than go on as we are?” She sobbed. “That doesn’t make
any sense! Being alone again is your worst nightmare. I
know
that.”
“No.”
He laid an insubstantial palm against the curve of her of her damp cheek and
gave her a gentle smile. “My worst nightmare is seeing you harmed, lass. And
I’m going to do everything I possibly can to keep that from happening.”
Her
eyes widened, sensing that this was the end. “Wait!” She tried to grab hold
of his wrist, but her fingers passed straight through his hand. “I can figure
out a way to fix everything. I know it. Please. Just give me a little time.”
“No
more of your time is being wasted on the dead.” He managed a crooked smile.
“It’s my last chance to be an actual gentleman, you know. I gave you my word
of honor that I’d leave you in peace on the 4
th
of July.”
“Then
you owe me three more hours. It’s not even nine, yet.”
God,
he just adored her rule-following, fine-print-reading, scientific precision. “It’s
close enough. Now it’s time for you to live your life. Every minute of it.”
The backs of his eyes were burning, even though he was fairly sure ghosts
couldn’t cry. “And stop trying to be normal, because you’re
not
.
You’re so much more magical than that.”
“Jamie,
don’t do this!”
“I
love you, Grace.”
…And
with that he disappeared from her sight.
June
27, 1789- Father has hung that dreadful portrait of Eugenia and me over the
fireplace, the same way he might hang a picture of his prize horses. Ugh! I
shall be embarrassed to look upon it every day. My sister’s pinched lips and
disagreeable glower will frighten away all the men who come to call. Not that
she
cares. No beau will ever seek Eugenia’s hand. Although I sometimes get the
feeling she’s set her eyes on one. I pity the poor fellow, whoever he is! As
for me, I cannot wait to find a rich husband of my choosing and leave this
horrible place for good.
Nothing
can be worse than living here. I’d
truly rather be dead!
From
the Journal of Miss Lucinda Wentworth
On
the morning of July 4
th
, Grace walked into the Harrisonburg
Historical Museum with no intention of ever leaving.
This
was her last chance to go back and fix the past.
The
final day the magic would work.
Somehow
she sensed that, the same way she knew she wouldn’t be able to use Lucinda and Anabel’s
blood to travel backwards again. Anabel’s blood wasn’t even there anymore,
since she no longer died in the garden maze. This whole adventure had always a
one-shot deal.
And
it always circled back to Independence Day.
Jamie
was an idiot if he thought she’d give up this investigation. Grace wasn’t
going to quit when she was so close. If there was anything left of Clara Vance’s
blood, it would be housed in the museum. Grace’s plan was simply to sneak into
the basement and find it. How hard could it be?
Of
course it would be a lot easier if Jamie lent a hand.
Grace
wasn’t thrilled with the idea of breaking into Robert’s workplace alone. Her
ex was out of jail and she was fairly certain he’d be nursing a grudge. She
wasn’t about to change her plans for that jackass, though. Hopefully, he’d be
able to control himself if their paths crossed. It was a public building,
after all, and Robert had a reputation to consider.
Grace
warily entered the museum, hating the oppressive place. Even during the town’s
busiest week of the year, it was deserted. Most tourists had better ways to
spend the morning then looking at dusty Revolution War muskets and rows of
Colonial era coins. Old fashioned cases lined the walls, packed full of
antique objects and neatly printed cards explaining why visitors should care.
Only
no one did.
It
broke Grace’s history-loving heart to see a whole building full of awesome
stuff being ignored. The museum should give it all a second life! Let the
objects be important again. She’d tried telling Robert that people might be
interested if he updated the displays and added some interactive exhibits, but
he’d been horrified by the very notion of technology creeping into his static
time capsule. Like all the Harrisonburg Historical Museum directors before
him, he wanted to maintain the status quo. Forever. It was why the place had
remained virtually unchanged for sixty years.
It
was also why it was always empty.
Well,
except for Grace… and one very pissed off ghost.
“What
the bloody hell are you doing?” Jamie appeared in front of her for the first
time in twelve hours, an outraged expression on his face.
Apparently,
he’d been spying on her. Huge surprise. Whether it was some kind of Rivera
sixth sense or her connection to Jamie binding them together, she could feel
his presence even when he was invisible. Grace might not have seen him since
the Ghost Walk, but she’d known he was still around. Heck, she’d known last night
that he wouldn’t really leave her. Jamie loved her. The two of them were Partners.
It was why she’d given him everything inside of her and why she refused to
abandon her mission to save him.
But
she was still furious at the big, huge jackass.
“What
does it look like?” She shot back, shooting him an angry glower. Even
whispering, her voice seemed to echo around the deserted interior. “I’m
carrying on my investigation alone. You don’t want to help?
Fine
.
I’ll do it myself.”
“You
were supposed to stop all together! T’is why I left!”
“You
haven’t left. You’re just brooding while invisible and it doesn’t suit you.
Pirates don’t sulk. They solve their problems head-on or they go down with the
ship.”
“I
did
solve the problem. Being with me will harm you, so I’m being a
goddamn gentleman and letting you get on with your life.”
“Well,
since it’s
my life
, I can do what I want with it.” She retorted. “And
this is
not
you being a gentleman. This is you being scared.”
“Bloody
right I’m scared. I donea want to see you hurt! How do you not ken the danger
you’re in?” He followed her through room full of Colonial era rocking chairs,
somehow managing to make himself the aggrieved party in their argument. “You
can’t
be
here, Grace. Robert could be lurking about, watching you on
those damn cameras, for all you know.” He gestured to the overhead security
system. “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, where is your head, woman?”
“What
business is it of yours what I do? You dumped me, remember?”
“I
have never and will never ‘dump’ you.” He snapped. “I told you, I want you to
stay alive and to live your life, so I am trying to keep my distance.”
“You
were invisibly brooding in my apartment all night! How is that keeping your
distance?”
“Well,
I’m working up to
greater
distances.” He defended staunchly. “I did
not watch you in the shower this morning, which is some progress, at least.”
“Oh,
you did to watch me.” She’d known he would. In fact, she hadn’t even bothered
to close the bathroom door, because she’d wanted to torment him at bit.
“Only
for the part where you washed your hair. I’m not made of stone. The point is,
I’m trying very hard and you’re determined to screw up my sacrifice.”
“Sacrifice?”
She rolled her eyes. “Please. Nobody asked you to be a jackass.”
“Nobody
ever has to
ask
me to protect you. The desire is a part of my soul.”
She
glanced up at him, refusing to be taken in by his quiet words. “Well, I’m
going downstairs. You can come if you want.” She headed for an “employees
only” door, thankful that museum board was too cheap to hire enough guards. “All
the evidence from the murders is hidden away on the basement. I helped Robert
organize the boxes down there last spring. For free, I might add. Every guy I
date is
soooo
unappreciative.”
“Donea
dare lump me in with that wanker.” Jamie followed her down the narrow
staircase, a sulky expression on his face. “You’re the one who does not
appreciate what I am trying to do for you. If you had a bloody clue how much I
needed you, you would not be so quick to condemn me.”
“Of
course I know how much you need me.” Grace turned to look at him in surprise.
“It’s exactly how much I need you. Not that you care, since you
dumped me
.”
He
scoffed at that. “Why in the hell would you need me? I’m not even here.” He
passed his fingers back and forth through the railing to prove his point. “You
would be safely tucked away in your pastel apartment right now, if it wasn’t
for me. Parting with you is the
least
selfish thing I have ever
attempted and I get no credit for it.” He made a face. “Being a gentleman is
even less rewarding than I imagined.”
“I
don’t want you to part from me!” She stopped walking and regarded him
earnestly, shocked that he didn’t see what was so obvious. “Why should I thank
you for doing something that hurt me?”
“Hurt
you? I would never…”
“You
did! Just the idea of being apart makes me miserable, Jamie. You’re my
Partner! My whole life, I’ve been waiting for you to show up and save me.”
His
eyes jumped to hers in astonishment.
“You’re
my Partner.” Grace repeated, when he just gaped at her. “I would have told
you that last night if you’d given me a chance. There’s no other man, alive or
dead, in my future. There’s just you. Now and forever.”
Jamie’s
resolve to dump her vanished like it had never been there at all. The great
thing about dating a pirate was they sucked at being noble. Gentlemanly
impulses or not, Jamie’s deepest instinct would always be to grab everything he
wanted and claim it for his own. It was part of his scoundrel-y DNA.
“I’m
your Partner?” He demanded, sounding desperate to believe it. “You’re sure
it’s truly me?”
“I’m
sure. You make me believe in magic.
That’s
why I’m doing this and why
I’ll keep on doing it, no matter how many times you try to leave me. Because I
can’t bear to go back to my boring, lonely life without you. You’re the only
one I feel totally safe with.” She gave him a smile. “I love you, too, Jamie
Riordan.”
He
moved down onto her step and rested his palm on her cheek. “I love you so
much.” He whispered in awe. “So much, I donea have words for it.”
Grace’s
heart swelled. “Does the historical version of you love me, too?”
“Aye.”
He nodded with absolute certainty.
“So
if I travel to 1789 and ask you to sail away with me, will you go?”
“Sail
away with you?” He echoed. “How the hell could you do that?”
She
shrugged. “I’m going to travel to the past and stay there.” That was the
heart of her new plan. A way to solve all their problems. “I told you I could
think of a way to fix things, if you gave me some time. Well, it took me all
last night, but I finally figured it out. You want me to have someone alive?
Well, I want
you
. …And you’re alive, back in 1789.”
Jamie
blinked like she was speaking in tongues. Which her Aunt Veneration actually
did sometimes and it sounded nothing like her perfectly reasonable plan.
“This
will work, Jamie.” She insisted when he just stared at her. “So long as I
don’t touch Clara Vance’s blood, I’m not going to travel back to the present.
And it’ll be real hard to touch her blood if we save her life, catch the
killer, and sail off to search for mermaids in Jamaica.” Grace was pretty
proud of the idea. She was even willing to wear her stupid tour guide costume
one last time, in order to see it through. “I’ve always had a hankering to see
mermaids, you know. As an added bonus, you can’t hang if you’re a thousand
nautical miles from Virginia.”
Unfortunately,
the ghost version of her future (or possibly past) husband wasn’t sold on the idea.
“It’s too dangerous, Grace.”
“It’s
not! We know where the murderer will be tonight. We have the jump on him.
And you’ll be beside me whole time. I’ll be perfectly safe.”
Jamie
rubbed his forehead. “Even if everything goes according to your plan… you’d be
stuck in 1789.”
“So?”
His
brows compressed. “So your family is here and I know how much you love them.”
“My
family is where
you
are, Jamie.” Grace did love her nutty relatives,
but any Rivera would do the same thing for the man they loved. Her cousin
Chastity had moved a mountain for her Partner. Literally. And it had been a
big Western-y one. “Now will the other you agree to leave Harrisonburg with me
or not?”
Jamie
studied her for a long moment. “I’ll go anywhere you ask.” He said quietly.
“Every single version of me belongs to you, Grace. You know that.”
Yeah,
she kinda did.
“Alright
then.” She gave a firm nod and headed down the stairs. “That’s our new plan.
Hopefully the memory potion will kick in and I won’t have to explain it all to
you again, because it’s a little confusing. I’ll probably have to make flow
charts or something.”
“Take
your blouse off and I’ll believe anything you say.”
She
flashed him a grin. “You know former Sunday school teachers very rarely allow
pirates to have their wicked way with them. You’re lucky I’ve discovered I’m
kind of a pizza-tramp where you’re concerned.”
“Believe
me, I thank my lucky stars each and every day I found you.”
Grace
reached the bottom of the steps and pushed open the door the storage room. No
one had locked it. Why would they? Everything valuable was upstairs on
display. This was where the museum kept the broken, objectionable, and/or
oddball bits of the collection. All the stuff that had been donated because
its owner died and nobody else in else in the family wanted it. The junk that
wouldn’t even sell on eBay. The cluttered room wasn’t exactly the warehouse at
end of
Raiders of the Lost Ark
, but it was still a hell of a lot of
boxes to sort through.
Grace
puffed out an irritated breath. This was going to take a while. “I think the
Revolutionary era stuff is over by the window.” She squeezed through the rows
of crates and dusty shelves. The buzzing florescent lights overhead were
already giving her a headache. “It’s all separated into categories. Look for
a box with an X on it. That’s the museum’s code for ‘this item is never, ever
going on display.’”