Lachesis' Tales

Introduction

2020-07-20T12:01:00.007-04:00

Welcome to Lachesis' Tales

Grab your favorite drink or snack and sit back as I present to you a variety of short stories.

Since I first started working on the Sea of Moons, I've had many stories work their way in bits and pieces into my mind, but they won't work with the structure I set up there. So I created this site to give those bits and pieces a place to call home.

All stories and characters here stand alone and are separate from those who live in the Sea of Moons. All the tales will have a beginning, middle and end. The length of each tale will vary depending on the story to be told.

This is a place where my imagination and the Sims2 meet to give life to the characters and stories that are screaming at me to be put on paper, or computer as the case may be.

As to when they will be updated, I do not plan to do it on any regular basis. When a part or a story is ready, I will post. But don't worry, I won't leave a story hanging, I promise, as I will always have it mostly if not completely written before I post the first part.

***

Out of Touch, Out of Time
Where Love is Not Bound by Time
(Paranormal Romance)
Thank you everyone for reading, I do hope you enjoyed it.
(Chapter List)

Wake the Dead

2011-06-28T17:53:00.001-04:00

After much, much thought and self-examination, I finally admit defeat. After more than a year I still have no idea where to go with this story or how to end it. I no longer even think of it. I've lost all my love, excitement and fire for this story and these characters.

I want to thank everyone who's loved and supported Kai and Shani. It's meant the world to me and for you I'd really try to give you something, but truthfully, it would only be half what I'm capable of and less than half what you deserve from me and these characters.

Therefore, I'm removing Wake the Dead from my blog.

Take care,
Lachesis

New Test Shots

2009-08-14T23:06:00.011-04:00

Just to keep you updated:

Below are some test shots of Shani and Kai. They've been taken in the daylight to see exactly how the makeup and overall look works. But since they're both vampires, they won't been seen in daylight in the story.

I need to make a few more changes to Kai's face. Neither of them are necessarily finalized, but I'm getting closer to the finished product as I finish working out their characters.

The story itself is coming along well, but it's very possible the beginning of the story may be posted before it's entirely written. I haven't decided yet, however, if I want to do it that way; but if I don't, you might be waiting until Christmas for the beginning and I don't want to wait that long to bring the story to you.

Take care,
Lachesis

The Next Lachesis' Tale in the Planning Stage

2009-07-03T18:35:00.007-04:00

Hi Everybody!

At the moment the next Lachesis' Tale is in the planning stages. I can't tell you much about it, and I can't tell you exactly when it'll start except that Sea of Moons' present storyline will be wrapped up first.

However, I can give you a little information. Kai Gillpatrick and Shani Rahotep are vampires who have lived in a world where normals have never known they exist. Now, because one vampire wanted to help the normals feel better, their entire society is about to be exposed and their world will never be the same again.

Take care,
Lachesis

Out of Out Touch, Out of Time Chapter List

2009-07-03T16:46:00.005-04:00

Out of Touch, Out of Time
Where Love is Not Bound by Time
(Romance)

Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Epilogue

Out of Touch, Out of Time - Epilogue

2009-05-29T23:29:00.017-04:00

July 11, 2008

Jonas set the newspaper on the table. They'd checked into the hotel the afternoon before after they'd finished with the police and fire departments. That had then been followed by making the rounds to the insurance company and mall to buy clothing and necessities, as Cheyenne put it.

He frowned at the paper. Just as he’d suspected, the reason for Cheyenne’s death appeared on the 11th. When he couldn’t find anything beforehand, he knew that would be the case.

“Hey, what’s the frown for?”

He smiled at her as she sat cross-legged on the bed. She was so beautiful and he was so grateful she was alive and his.

He sat on the bed and pulled her against him. “I always suspected I’d find the reason for your death in today’s paper.”

She shuddered, “If you hadn’t have been here to change my life, I would’ve been in the house when it blew up. I’m sure that’s why I landed in your time dead.”

She was silent for a moment before she continued, “Oh, while you were in the shower, the Police Chief called.”

“Did he say what’d caused the fire? The paper said faulty wiring.”

“That’s what the Chief said. Apparently, the fire inspector believes the wiring in the basement was frayed and the fire started in the wall down there. Then when it spread, it caused the cans of stripper to explode and that in turn may have ruptured the gas line for my stove and furnace, they need to do more testing or something like that before they know for sure. The end result: a really big boom and a lot of fire.” She frowned, “Kaltenback was telling the truth, he didn’t start my house on fire. The fact that I hadn’t gotten around to getting it rewired did.”

He held her for a few minutes, just happy as hell to be with her in any time, but especially this time.

As though she’d read his mind, she said, “Oh, that reminds me, I emailed an old friend of mine from London last night and he’s working on getting all the credentials you’re going to need.”

“What kind of credentials?”

“A birth certificate, a driver’s license, a social security number, and a credit history. Oh, and he also said he could get you a degree from any university in England. I told him I wanted Oxford, so you’re getting a degree in horticulture from Oxford.”

“Oxford? Even I’ve heard of Oxford,” he said with a smile.

“Figured you had.” She turned and rising on her knees took his face in her hands. “I love you Jonas Salinger, and thank you for coming into my life and saving it.”

***

Changes in Cheyenne's timeline:

Before Jonas:
Mark bullied Cheyenne until she agreed to take a dozen uninspired photographs, which she put together and sent over to the Gallery without leaving her house any more than absolutely necessary. She was in her kitchen on the morning of the 10th, heading out to her soon to be renovated garden when the explosion occurred. She entered the time rift at a point where she landed on the 10th, but later in the day than when the accident occurred. Jonas that day was in the front of the house and stepped back into the time rift at a different point, bringing him to the future ten days earlier, in time to save her.

After Jonas:
Mark bullied Cheyenne until she agreed to do the show, but this time, Jonas inspired her and she went into parts of town she didn’t the first time looking for just the perfect shots. She ventured out and took chances in places she wouldn’t normally have gone. Therefore, she was in the right spot to take the picture of Kaltenback this time around.

Because Jonas was in her life, and they discovered the photograph, and Jonas knew she was destined to die, she was not in the same place at the same time as she had been before. The explosion still happened as it had before, but she was in front of the house, not inside it.

One thing I did to show things had changed between the two timelines was I purposely dressed Cheyenne different. When she went back to Jonas’ time, she was barefoot and very much dressed for staying home. This time, she was dressed to go out. :)

Because of Jonas coming to the present, Kaltenback was caught and stopped before he could continue taking money and letting drugs remain on the street. The changes made with Kaltenback’s immediate life and the people who buy and sell the drugs, would affect many people in one way or the other.

Jonas’ coming to the present not only saved Cheyenne and gave her love; it very well may have saved many other lives as well, thus causing ripples in the timeline possibly for generations.

I hope this answers most of your questions. Thank you so much for reading.
-Lachesis

Chapter Twenty-Six

Out of Touch, Out of Time - Chapter Twenty-Six

2009-05-25T20:53:00.024-04:00

July 10, 2009

Jonas slid to a halt, stopping just short of tripping over his own feet and landing face-first on the sidewalk.

“You goddamn son of a bitch! You bastard! Why the fuck did you burn down my home?”

Jonas only had a moment to recognize Kaltenback before Cheyenne jumped on the man causing him to land flat on his back. She beat at him with her fists.

Jonas tried to decide if he should stop her, in case the officer got a chance to catch his breath, or just let her beat the shit out him. Which, fortunately was keeping her too busy to notice the distortion, or to fall into it for that matter. Amazingly enough, the distortion seemed to stay behind the wall, taking in only the burning house and the immediate grounds in front and back.

“Back off, for Christ’s sakes lady. I’m a cop, what the hell are you doing?”

“You’re a dirty ass cop, taking money and selling drugs for all I know. You blew up my house!”

“Son of a bitch, lady, get the hell off. I didn’t blow up your fucking house.”

Looking down, Jonas noticed the officer’s gun. He removed it from its holster on the side of the man’s belt and held it toward him.

“Get her off, will you? You do realize you’re holding a gun on a police officer? I can arrest your ass.”

“Nope, don’t think so, but I’ll just stand here and hold your gun for you, just in case you decide to hit the lady or something.” Okay, Jonas knew guns, but this thing he knew nothing about. The only thing he was sure of, the trigger looked the same, but he didn’t touch it, he didn’t want to shoot Cheyenne by accident.

“I didn’t burn down your damn house, lady. It was already on fire when I got here. The explosion must have been caused by those cans you had stored in the basement. Didn’t anyone ever tell you putting flammable containers next to a furnace is dangerous? You have enough paint stripper down there to strip the entire fucking city.” Kaltenback grunted as Cheyenne shifted.

“You lie; you set my house on fire.”

“Why the hell would I do that? I came to look one more time for your flashcard, but I sure as hell had no reason to burn down your house. What good would that have done me?”

“Then you would have destroyed all the evidence.”

“I may be a dirty cop, but I’m not going to set a house on fire this time of year. Sure, it rained a couple of days ago, but it’s dry as a bone out here. One spark and half the city could go up in flames. Besides, I knew about those damn cans, I wouldn’t want to blow up the whole fucking block.”

Jonas had to smile. That had to be one of the most inconsistent things he’d ever heard anyone say. The man would lie and put the entire department at risk by selling information, but he wouldn’t set a house on fire during dry season? If he didn’t start the fire, what did?

“Oh, great, a cop on the take with a conscience. Why don’t I believe that?” Cheyenne said.

“Well, lady, there’s nothing I can say that’s going to make a difference in what you think about me.”

“Damn straight.”

He shifted his hips and Jonas raised the gun a little higher. “Stop.”

“What the fuck, are you planning to shoot me in the head?”

He started to rise. Jonas was wondering if he pointed the gun toward the wall if he’d miss them, or if the ricochet off the wall would get one of them when he saw Cheyenne shift her weight and bring her knee up to land firmly in the man’s groin. The movement was so swift and firm, he winced as the officer groaned and doubled up as much as her weight on his stomach allowed.

Suddenly, ear piercing sounds and red, blue and white flashing lights filled the air and police cars, fire engines and people came from nowhere.

The Chief came up to Jonas “I can take that now, thank you.”

Jonas handed the Chief the gun, then proceeded to help get Cheyenne off the man.

Firemen were rushing toward the blaze and it occurred to him too late he should warn them back; but when he looked, the firemen were moving safely toward the house. The distortion had past.

He was staying.

He gathered Cheyenne close and held on tight. “The distortion has come and gone,” he whispered in her ear. “You’re stuck with me forever.”

Cheyenne pulled back and looked at him, joy written all over her face as she jumped in his arms with a squeal.

"I guess we're going to have to find a new home." Jonas said.

"That will be anywhere you are," Cheyenne said with a laugh.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Epilogue

Out of Touch, Out of Time - Chapter Twenty-Five

2009-05-24T22:00:00.024-04:00

July 10, 2008

Cheyenne and Jonas stood as the Police Chief came around his desk saying, “Thank you. We’ve known for some time we had someone passing on information, our raids on known drug houses have come up empty too many times. But even as small as we are, we just couldn’t seem to find the evidence to pinpoint who, whether officer or civilian.”

He shook his head. “Really, with only eighteen officers total in Bluewater, you wouldn’t think it would be that hard. But there are only two of us aware of the problem and we did everything we could not to make the other officers suspicious.

He shook their hands. “We’ll head out and pick up Kaltenback as soon as I can gather the necessary officers. Once again, thank you. If Kaltenback’s stupid, perhaps he may even still have your laptop.”

“That would be wonderful. If I could get it back, that is.”

“Well, it’s possible, but certainly not before everything’s settled, trial wise.”

Jonas put his arm around Cheyenne and said, “Thank you, Chief, for all your help. You have Cheyenne’s phone numbers if you need her. We don’t plan on going home today, but you can reach her by her cell phone.”

“I’ll let you know. And I’ll even try to stop by the gallery see your photographs before the show ends.”

Cheyenne smiled wide, “Thank you, and if you see anything you like, they’ll be for sale.”

“And way beyond a Police Chief’s salary, I’m sure. Well, I have to get going on this. You two take care.”

The Chief returned to his office as Cheyenne and Jonas headed for the car.

***

“Damn, I can’t believe we were in such a rush to leave this morning we forgot that one box of photographs." Cheyenne said. "I don’t really want to go back in there, but we can’t take a chance on Mark sending his guys here and walking into the distortion.”

Jonas was concerned about being this near the house, but not too much. It was still too early for the distortion to appear, if the time lines were right, only 10 am. It had been later in the afternoon when the distortion appeared in his time. He would much rather not be here at all, but Cheyenne was right, they couldn’t let anyone else near the house today.

“Hey, Jonas, I forgot my camera, can you grab it, I don’t like leaving it in the car even for a few minutes. I’m paranoid,” she added with a smile as she walked around the wall to the front of the house.

Jonas looked at her camera bag in the backseat and smiled, “Sure, no problem,” to quote one of Cheyenne’s favorite expressions.

He reached for the car door, when the world exploded around him.

The explosion ripped through the air, knocking Jonas off his feet.

Fear, panic, desperation clogged his throat, as he fought to get up. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he was on his feet moving, but not fast enough.

“Cheyenne!”

As he rounded the wall, he looked toward the house where the explosion had come from, the first floor on fire. Looking up, he saw the watery effect start to fill the sky.

“No!” The word was ripped from this throat.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Six

Out of Touch, Out of Time - Chapter Twenty-Four

2009-05-17T14:53:00.016-04:00

July 10, 2009

By the time the police left and Mark dropped off a new computer, it’d gotten very late and the photos Cheyenne was looking at were starting to blur.

“Damn,” she said rubbing her eyes and looking at Jonas sitting next to her. He was helping her go through the pictures on the flashcards she’d insisted on keeping in her purse despite Mark’s constant harping. And wasn’t it a good thing she had?

“Cheyenne, it’s after midnight, can’t we continue this in the morning at the gallery?”

“No, I told Mark we’d get these photographs to him first thing tomorrow, err, today. He’s getting the frames for me and we’ll put them in before they go on the wall. He’s giving me a break, but they have to get them hung in time for the opening on the 11th. Besides, there are only a few more.”

“Remember we have to be out of here before noon at the latest, preferably tonight, but I know you won’t go.”

“I haven’t forgotten, we’ll leave early, I promise. I have no intention of either dying or losing you. But I don’t want to leave my home unprotected, either. What if they come back? What if our arriving scared them off, and once the house is unoccupied they return and vandalize even more of my home? Steal even more?”

She ran a hand over the back of her neck. “I should have had an alarm installed years ago, but I never saw a need for it.”

“Damn, you’re stubborn; I just hope it doesn’t cause us trouble. We can replace what they break, we can’t replace you.” Jonas said reaching over and rubbed her shoulder.

She put her head on his shoulder. Damn, she loved this man.

“Okay, so, what’s the next photograph?” he said, his voice beginning to take on the rough timbre of tiredness.

“It took me days to go through these and choose the ones I wanted. If I ever do this again, I’m going put the separated pictures on a flash drive as well as the computer. Some of these are so close, I wish I could remember what it was that made me choose one over the other.”

“You’re just tired. And whatever it was that made you choose the first time, you’ll make the same decision again.”

She looked at him and smiled. “Wow, you have a lot of confidence in me, don’t you?”

“Endless,” he answered with a smile.

“Okay, back to it.” Cheyenne looked at her watch, 3:00 a.m.

Finally, after what seemed like forever, the last photograph spit out of the printer. Jonas took it from the tray and looked at it.

“This is wonderful; I do believe it’s your best. It captures the alley and the old, falling down buildings perfectly, and the lighting brings out the decay.”

Cheyenne smiled and rose to stand next to him. He had a great way of looking at things. He noticed the lights and shadows in each of the pictures, and the surrounding areas. She really was going to have to teach him about photography, his natural sense of composition would be perfect for it.

“What’s that? I thought you didn’t take pictures of people?”

“I didn’t this time. What, do I have someone in the shot? How did I miss seeing them?”

“Yes, there, next to that building in the back.”

Yup, sure as hell and clear as day were two men standing close together.

“Well, shit. So much for the perfect photo.” Suddenly, something clicked and she took the photo from him. Looking closer, she realized she may have captured something she shouldn’t have.

She pulled the photo up on the computer, centering on the two men and blowing it up to full size.

Jonas leaned over the back of the couch and said, “Is that what I think it is?”

“It sure is. Even worse, I recognize the cop taking the money. He was just in the paper and on TV a while back because he pulled a kid from burning car.”

“I believe we found the reason for all the thefts.”

“Shit, me too.”

Cheyenne pulled a blank flash drive from her purse and downloaded the picture. Most women kept cosmetics in their purses, she kept flashcards and flash drives. “We’re going to take this to the police first thing in the morning.”

“Why not now?”

She smiled and rose, putting both the flash drive and the flashcard in the pocket of her jeans. She thought that would be safer than her purse if the thief came back for any reason.

“Because I’m way too tired to drive; I really need at least a couple hours sleep. And besides, the police force here is pretty small. I want to talk to the chief of police and I don’t think he’ll be around at 3:30 in the morning. The town was bigger and there were probably more police in the 1890’s when it was still an important port. But the shipping industry has long since left this area, and people have moved away making Bluewater much smaller than it used to be.”

He stretched his shoulders, looking even more tired than she felt. “I guess I hadn’t noticed since it’s all different. But I do agree. The police officer probably thinks he’s destroyed everything now, and won’t be back, unless he thinks you saw him, too.”

“Yeah, but if that were the case, wouldn’t he think I’d already gone to the police?”

“Yes, so we have to believe you’re safe for the moment. I’d say by his actions to this point, he doesn’t want you dead, he just wants your photographs and they were on the computer he took, correct?”

Cheyenne nodded, yawning wide, and Jonas smiled, “Okay, bed, now.”

As he picked her up to carry her to the bedroom, she said, “Bed, sleep, only. Much as I would love more, I really am exhausted.”

He chuckled, “Cheyenne, I’m exhausted, too.”

She put her head on his shoulder. “Okay.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Five

Out of Touch, Out of Time - Chapter Twenty-Three

2009-05-10T21:40:00.004-04:00

July 9, 2008

“This was once one of the most stately homes in Bluewater.” Jonas said as they approached the front door. The drive back from the cemetery had been relaxing. It was good to know exactly what he wanted for the first time in his life.

“I think it’s still one of the most stately homes in Bluewater. Despite how I feel about it, however, most people only see an old, broken down haunted house. I’ve even known some of the kids around here to cross the street rather than walk in front of it.”

“But the house isn’t haunted and people see you and me coming and going.”

“They didn’t used to. After John ran off, I never left the house. That’s when it got the reputation; I even heard from Kyle that kids at school thought I was the ghost of Agatha Hucksinger.”

“Good lord, I certainly hope she didn’t look like Lydia, because if she did, you’ve been insulted.”

“I don’t know, I never met Agatha and the only picture I’ve seen of Lydia looked like she had a stick up her butt holding a baby.”

“That was Lydia. I knew that woman for many years, and never once did she smile. Not even on her wedding day.”

“Was it an arranged marriage?”

“By the time Hucksinger married, arranged marriages had long-since stopped. No, it was a marriage of convenience. Hucksinger was too busy being a perfect citizen to want a wife he had to pay attention to and Lydia just wanted to be left alone. She brought added wealth as well as an equally prestigious name. She was the daughter of Arthur Bleu.”

“Wasn’t Bluewater named after him?”

“Yes.”

As they entered the foyer, he noticed papers spilling on the floor out of her office.

“What the hell?” she said.

They slowly approached the doorway; too shocked to say anything. Cheyenne walked into the room before he could stop her; not that he probably could have even if he’d had a chance to try.

“Shit, shit, shit, goddamn it, shit!” She stood in the middle of the room turning in circles.

“Stay here, I’ll-“

She pushed past him and charged down the hall to the room where the boxed photographs were waiting to be picked up.

“Son of a bitch! I thought the photographs might have been stolen; I didn't expect this. Isn’t it bad enough to steal my computer without destroying my photos? Mark is going to be livid. How the hell can I get ready for a show in two days?”

Jonas was stunned; he hadn’t even noticed that the computer was no longer on the desk where it always sat. Why would anyone cause such destruction if their intent was to take the computer?

“Stay here,” he repeated more firmly this time.

Before she could protest, he took off. A quick check of the rest of the house and grounds showed that only the office and the spare room were the targets of the thief who appeared to be long gone.

When he returned to the spare room, he was surprised to find her still there. He watched as she paced back and forth reminding him of a caged animal trying to decide which of the spectators to attack, but knowing they are out of reach.

Finally he took hold of her shoulders, but she shook him off without even acknowledging him.

Frustrated, he picked her up, holding her tight and fought to control his rage. He wanted to hunt the bastard down, but she needed him to be calm, not angry, so he tried to push his anger aside.

She buried her head in his shoulder and cried as he carried her to a chair in the living room; her pain tore him apart.

Holding her close, he let her cry out her frustration, anger and loss.

“Why... why would anyone do this?”

“I don’t know, but you have to call the police, and Mark may just have to delay the show a day or two until we can get the frames replaced and the photographs reprinted.”

She looked at him and smiled, “Why Jonas Salinger, that’s the most 21st Century thing I’ve heard you say.”

“Well, that is what needs to be done isn’t it?”

“Yes, and you remembered the police because of the camera, didn’t you?”

“We had police in 1890, too," he smiled, sometimes she forgot that 1890 wasn't the dark ages. "You never told me what they said about the camera.” He should let her up, but he was enjoying the warmth of her too much to want to let her go just yet.

“They said they’d keep an eye out, but they highly doubted I’d ever see the camera again and that I should file a claim with my insurance. Which I did. Damn, they’re going to raise my rates when I tell them about this. First my camera, now my laptop and photographs. Why the hell is this happening?”

A knock at the door caught their attention. “Oh, shit Mark’s guys,” Cheyenne said pushing off his lap.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Four

Out of Touch, Out of Time - Chapter Twenty-Two

2009-04-26T16:07:00.030-04:00

July 9, 2008

For all the beautiful days since he’d arrived in this time, it seemed the weather had decided to commemorate the trip to the cemetery in an appropriate fashion. The skies were dark and cloudy and a cold rain was drizzling down making everything gloomy and bleak.

Jonas remembered exactly where his wife and son were buried and headed toward them without hesitation, despite the growth of the cemetery since. When his wife and son had been laid to rest, the cemetery was new and there’d been only a handful of graves.

If he thought the attic had marked the passage of time, it couldn’t compare to this. All that had been important to him, had shaped his life for more than ten years, was decaying from time and neglect. Without him or his family to keep the flowers planted, it had become overgrown grass and weeds. The two graves sat side by side; the space that had been set aside for him to lie next to his wife was occupied by a stranger that according to the headstone had died thirty years after his wife. When he didn’t return, they must have given up hope that he would need the grave next to his young wife.

He knelt between the two graves and set his flowers on the overgrown grass, the colors bright against the backdrop of bleak decay.

He started to pull the weeds from this son’s grave. Looking at the clump of grass in his hand, he realized how futile it was. For the first time the question he’d been playing with and then avoiding screamed to the forefront, demanding a decision be made once and for all.

Did he want to return to the past, his home, his family, a time when these graves were new, the headstones intact and readable? Did he want to be laid to rest next to his wife and son, to spend eternity with them? Or, did he want to start fresh in this new time with the woman he loved even more fervently than he had his wife? The thought should have felt a betrayal to the woman who had given everything for him, but it didn’t; and that alone answered his question.

He could not push it behind him; he could not just ignore it. Now was the time he must face it. Looking at the graves his answer was clear, no doubts, no second thoughts, not anymore.

He lay a hand on each headstone and said a final goodbye to those he’d loved, and the world he’d known and grown up in. He no longer belonged to that time. This was his home now, and he wanted to stay here, he finally felt he truly belonged. There was much he didn’t know, but he’d learn. With Cheyenne to teach him, he would fit in in no time. Granted, it was going to take a very long time to learn even a small portion of the slang, but he was willing to try.

He turned toward Cheyenne standing a few feet behind him, giving him the room he needed. He smiled and took both her hands in his. “Come, let’s go see your mother.”

Her mother’s grave was in the newer, cared for area of the cemetery. These graves had all been dug within the last twenty years or so and still had family members visiting and caring for them. Her mother’s was not as well tended as some of the others, and as she set her flower on the recently mowed, almost carpet-like grass, she realized perhaps she should come more often and clean it up a bit.

Suddenly she had a vivid picture of her mother lecturing her on wasting her time on things past and done with, and chuckled.

“Cheyenne?” Jonas’ voice broke the silence. Apparently her laughing had confused him.

“I was just thinking I should take more time and keep this area clean, when I could suddenly see my mom’s face plain as day looking at me like I was crazy. She would’ve never spent, or expected me to spend, time cleaning up graves in a cemetery, unless it was the job she or dad happened to have at the time. She would have told me there was too much life left to live and enjoy, and the past was past.”

“I would have liked your mother.”

“Yes, you would have, and she would have loved you.”

“Because I traveled through time?”

“No, because you broke through all boundaries to come to me. Even boundaries that are supposed to be eternally unbreakable.”

“I was just realizing that. For the first time I finally understand that I belong here. I did the impossible to be where I belong. By some cosmic mistake, I was born too early.”

“But you loved, and had a son in that time, how could your being there have been wrong?”

“But, unfortunately, they didn’t survive. When time eventually corrected itself, I had nothing left to tie me to the wrong time. My parents and sisters, yes, but they would’ve had no problem moving on without me. But a wife and son, I couldn’t have left them behind. If they hadn’t died and the distortion does reappear, I would be forced to step into it, and return to them. Now I have no such restrictions; I’m free to stay.”

“And do you still want to stay? I know you were uncomfortable around Mark.”

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Three

Out of Touch, Out of Time - Chapter Twenty-One

2009-04-12T15:52:00.015-04:00

July 8, 2008

Entering the gallery to make arrangements for her photographs to be delivered to Mark hopefully before the tenth, Cheyenne looked at Jonas and smiled. The night had been incredible and they were actually late for the appointment she’d made for eleven that morning.

The thought of dying scared the hell out of her, especially now, but that was two days away, assuming Jonas hadn’t already changed the present. She and Jonas had agreed to stay as far away from the house as possible on the tenth, and to keep others away, as well. Hopefully, that would be enough. There was nothing more they could do for now, unless an answer came to them over the next couple of days, it was the best plan they could come up with.

She held his hand and walked into Mark’s office, his secretary waving them in with a knowing smile.

“You’re late.”

“Yeah, so, is that important?” she asked, not really caring one way or the other today.

“Yes, I have a meeting scheduled for noon, and I didn’t think it would be a problem because you’re always on time.”

He looked at them and nodded. “Ah, now I see why you’re late. How are you doing Jonas?” he asked holding out his hand to shake the other man’s.

“I’m fine, thank you.”

“We really don’t want to hold you up any more than we already have,” Cheyenne said, “So, what did you want to see me about?’

“I wanted to let you know that George and Bruce will be over first thing in the morning to pick up the photos. You do have them boxed, don’t you?”

“Yes, Jonas and I put them away last night; they’re sitting in one of the empty rooms downstairs. There’re four boxes with five photos each, but can they come a little later? We have somewhere to be tomorrow morning and Kyle has the next few days off. We’ll be home no later than one o’clock, will that do?”

“Sure, that’ll be fine. You have twenty pictures to display? Really?”

“Yes, really. And, you can sell them, too, if you wish. Your usual commission, plus five percent because I’m feeling generous today.”

“Excellent, now I’m glad we’ve been pushing this show for the past month. The extra five percent will pay the advertising costs. I’m sure it won’t be hard to sell all twenty. I don’t suppose you’ve brought me thumbnails so I can see them before they go on the walls, have you?”

“And break tradition, not a chance. You’ll see them when you get them and not before.”

“What if I don’t like them?”

“Have you ever?”

“No.”

“Then, that’s your answer,” she replied smiling.

Mark looked at the clock on his desk and stood, “George and Bruce will be over around one. We’ll close that section of the gallery and start putting the photos up on the tenth, so if you want to stop by and supervise, you’re more than welcome.”

“We might just do that, thanks.”

“What… I’ve made that offer every show for the past five years and you’ve never shown up once.”

“I know, but maybe this time, we will,” she smiled, took Jonas’ offered hand and left the office. It would be somewhere to go that wasn’t home.

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-Two

Out of Touch, Out of Time - Chapter Twenty

2009-03-29T20:54:00.005-04:00

(You may not want to read this Chapter at work as it my not be suitable. ;D -Lachesis)

July 7, 2008

Cheyenne set her new camera down on her desk and looked around. There weren’t too many places he could be.

She started with the yard, thinking he might be working out there, but he wasn’t.

Then she went to the kitchen, not there. Okay, so that meant a systematic search through a rather large house. In the end, he wasn’t in any of the rooms, used or not. Hum, okay, she knew he was here, she didn’t know why, but she knew he was here; the house didn’t feel empty like it would if he were gone.

She'd checked everywhere except the attic. She thought of all the things in the attic which to her were fascinating links to the past. Not good, not good at all. They were the most prominent sign of the passage of time in this house.

Damn.

She raced up the steps. Opening the door, she stopped dead.

Shit.

She approached carefully, not wanting to startle him; but wanting desperately to remove the pain she could almost feel, even across the room.

“Jonas,” she said as gently as she could.

He looked at her as though seeing her for the first time. His brown eyes looking even more lost and confused than the day he’d landed in the garden.

“This is all that’s left of my life.”

“No, it’s not. It’s just the past, the dead past. It’s no different than that pile of clothes you dug through for days. That pile is my dead past, this is yours, but we have the future, a future together.”

“Do we? Or will I go back to this dead past? Will you?”

“No, I won't go back to John, and we'll do everything we can to keep you from going back to your past.”

“Not your past, my past. You were in my past.”

“What?”

“Yes, when the distortion happened, you flew out of it. You were dead.”

“Dead!”

“Yes.”

“Did I die when I landed?”

“No, I don’t think so; I think you were dead before you left this time.”

“Holy shit,” she whispered, unable to even begin to comprehend such a thing.

“I’ve been trying for days to find out why you came back dead, but I can’t. I can’t find anything.”

“Holy shit,” she repeated, she really didn’t know what else to say. Then a thought came to her, “But, I’m alive and you came through, maybe your coming here saved me.”

“No, it was July 10th when I left my time.”

“And it was July 1st when you landed,” she said clinging to him for support. “It’s July 7th, does that mean I’m going to die in three days?”

“I don’t know, if our time is parallel it might just mean that. I’ve been trying so hard to find out why, but I can’t find anything. I came up here hoping for answers, but there aren’t any here, just my past, not yours.”

“Oh, my god.”

“It won’t happen. I wasn’t here July 10th, this time I will be. I won’t let you die.”

“Can you stop that? Will you go back?” Suddenly she wrapped her arms around him. “I can’t loose you, not now. I love you.”

He kissed her hard and she clung to him.

Picking her up, he carried her down the steep stairs to her bedroom and placed her gently on the bed.

Lying next to her, he held her tightly. “Can we just stay here until July 10th has passed?” she asked.

“As much as three days in bed with you sounds like heaven, the house was the center of the distortion. I’m not sure staying inside would keep you safe.”

She needed to feel him near, needed him to take away her fear, to make her feel alive. She pulled his shirt from his jeans and started pulling it over his head, kissing his skin as she inched it upwards. He helped her remove the shirt, and then turned to her and repeated the process with hers. His lips were warm and gentle, and when his tongue joined them in the dance up her stomach, a sound of pure ecstasy escaped her lips.

He chuckled as he removed her shirt, all the while looking her in the eyes, such love shining in his.

“I love you. For the first time in my life, I’m truly and deeply in love, and I had to travel a hundred and nineteen years to find you. I will not let you go.”

Nothing else mattered but him. He pulled her to him, she forgot everything but him. Her dream man that had fallen from the sky.

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty-One

Out of Touch, Out of Time - Chapter Nineteen

2009-03-27T20:57:00.021-04:00

July 7, 2008

Jonas spent his time while Cheyenne worked on her photographs going through everything he could think of to look for on what she’d called the internet. Once he got over his initial amazement at all that information available on this one little machine, he’d made good use of it.

There was nothing even looking though the local paper that would explain what could happen in the future. But how could it? How could he find an answer for something that wouldn’t happen for three days, if then? How he wished he could travel forward though time just once more; he was sure the answer would be available on July 11, 2008. But that wasn’t going to happen, unfortunately, he was pretty sure of it and he was stuck in this time looking for answers to a question that hadn’t even been formed yet. How was that for a conundrum?

His search ultimately led him to the attic where Cheyenne had found some of the old stuff left from Hucksinger’s family. It turned out that sometime after he left, old Robert P. and Lydia finally talked with each other long enough to produce a son. A fact that made Jonas shake his head and smile at the mere thought of Lydia Hucksinger, Lady of the Manor, ever doing anything that common. Had old Robert P. spiked her tea with his favorite brandy?

Too bad, that would have been one occurrence at the Hucksingers’ table he would have like to see the start of. But only the start, the thought of being privy to anything else made him shudder. As Cheyenne would have said, “That’s one picture I’ll be haunted by for the rest of my life.”

He smiled as he thought of the beautiful Cheyenne. She did not make him shudder, but he would surely be haunted by her for the rest of his life.

Which reminded him of just exactly why he was standing in this dusty attic in the middle of a warm afternoon to look though the discarded leavings of the Hucksinger family.

It was not a family destined to continue, however. The line had finally died out with the eternally single and childless last and only grandchild. But before she passed on, she’d spent the last fifty years of her life neglecting the house, only repairing or replacing what had to be done in order for her to have a home and a roof over her head. She died in 2003 and the city auctioned the house off with all its furnishings still intact.

Suddenly, his nose tickled and he sneezed. He looked around the crowded attic and wondered what he thought he was going to find up here that would answer his questions. But if it wasn’t up here, he didn’t know where he was going to find the answer.

He sat on a steamer trunk that he’d more than once carried out to Mrs. Hucksinger’s carriage when she was taking a trip out west to visit her sister. Now it was cracked and stained with age. Did it still contain the clothes she carried with her on her annual trip?

Finally, he took a good look around, and for the first time, he was truly struck by the reality of it all. The desk from Hucksinger’s study that the attorney had sat behind with such authority was now stuffed into a corner, piled with a hundred years of discarded belongings and dust.

Had the Hucksingers ever thrown anything away? He didn’t think so. Here his world sat, old, torn, and dirty. Papers and pictures yellow and brittle with age. A dress he recognized as Lydia Hucksinger’s favorite hanging on a form near the window had been subjected to too much sun and dust. The velvet faded and torn. If he touched it, would it disintegrate? Turn to dust just like everything thing he’d ever known?

His family, his friends. Had his sisters left descendants? Could he find them? Should he even try?

Suddenly it hit him, he’d spent so many days just trying to adjust, take in all the new that he hadn’t had time for the old. Now, here it was laid out in front of him and he couldn’t ignore it anymore.

Everything he knew was gone, and he’d never felt so terribly alone in the world. Not even when his wife and son died had he felt this alone. Then he had the strength and support of his parents, his sisters and their families.

There was no one left who knew and understood his life. Suddenly, he had a burning desire to find their graves. He needed to feel connected to something solid, tangible even if it were death.

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Twenty

Out of Touch, Out of Time - Chapter Eighteen

2009-03-15T13:15:00.017-04:00

July 6, 2008

Cheyenne stopped and said to Mark, “This is it; you’re only giving me two walls?”

“Why, do you need more? I thought I was taking a chance giving you two. In fact, I haven’t even been able to get you to use one wall recently.”

She tapped her purse and said, “Well, I guess that means I’ll just have to cut back some on my choices.”

“What, you have more than two walls worth? Since when? And, speaking of since when, when are you going to stop carrying your flash card around in your purse? Just like today, you never know when someone will steal your purse. Why don’t you keep it locked up at home somewhere?”

“Because when it’s at home, I don’t know where it is. And, as you can see, the guy took my camera, not my purse.”

“But why didn’t he take your bag?” Jonas asked.

“What do you mean?” she asked looking at him.

“Why didn’t he take your bag? I’ve seen at least some of what’s in your bag, if that’s common for women to carry, why didn’t he take your bag?”

“I don’t know, he’s a camera freak?”

“A camera what?”

“Freak,” Mark answered giving him a confused look. “You don’t know what a freak is?”

“Of course he does, he just didn’t hear me, that’s all.” She smiled at them both and then turned away to look at the area Mark had set aside for her. “Yes, I think this will do well. I can cover the walls.”

Mark looked at him strangely one more time, then turned away and spoke with Cheyenne about the show, which apparently would occur on the eleventh. One day after she was scheduled to fly back to him; if, in fact, time were occurring parallel. And if time were running parallel, would he be able to keep her from stepping into the disturbance and dying?

And, if she did die again, he would surely return to his own time because he had no desire to stay here without her. Not that he wanted to be in his own time without her either.

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Nineteen

Out of Touch, Out of Time - Chapter Seventeen

2009-02-22T11:38:00.013-05:00

July 6, 2008

“What do you mean?” Jonas asked.

“She’s been shut away in that house for two years, one excuse after another, but I knew it was because of that bastard she used to live with. I’ve only recently been able to get her do this show. I’ve been pestering her for two years, and finally, she agreed to take the pictures, but swore she wouldn’t do anything more than courier them over to me when they were done. Now here she is in the flesh with you.”

“John the Jerk?” Jonas asked, trying to correlate the reclusive Cheyenne this man described to the woman who’d been nothing but friendly and talkative.

Mark laughed, “Yeah, John the Jerk, John the asshole. I, personally, would like to see him strung up by his balls, but that’s just my opinion.”

It was all Jonas could do not to look surprised.

“Okay, what’d you say, Mark, that put that look on Jonas’ face?” Cheyenne asked as she walked back toward them, the blood gone and the scrap all but invisible. Apparently, he hadn’t succeeded in hiding his surprise at Mark's comment.

“I just said that John the Jerk should be strung up by his balls. Nothing that anyone who knows him wouldn’t say. The way he left you for that piece of twenty-year-old ass.”

She turned to Jonas, “Sorry, Mark’s not known for watching his mouth. He says whatever enters that tiny brain of his and spits it out no matter how crude.”

“Oh, come now, you can’t tell me college boy has never heard worse.”

Cheyenne regarded him as though she was trying to see into his soul. Finally, satisfied with whatever she saw there, she said, “Oh, I’m sure he’s heard worse and said worse.”

She smiled and looped her arm through Jonas’ saying, “Come on, let’s look and see how much space Mark has grudgingly given up for my photographs.”

Jonas put his hand over hers and followed along wondering about this familiar, but strange world he’d landed in. Apparently men and women had grown more equal. Men were no longer careful what they said in front of a lady and women who were smart, no longer hid it. He was sure he’d never be able to act around a lady like Mark did. Was that expected of men? Would he stand out because he could never fit in? Would he embarrass Cheyenne because he would be different?

As though he’d spoken the words aloud, Cheyenne turned to him and said, “Although Mark is not a rarity, there are still many men who are careful what they say around women. Don’t be put off by him.”

He looked at her surprised. Was she a mind reader? When he was alone with her, he had no problem believing he belonged here. But when they left the house and moved around in this new world, that feeling vanished and he became unsure. Unsure if he’d ever fit in, and unsure if he wanted to.

Funny how the interaction between Cheyenne and Mark undermined his confidence in staying in this time. He realized that this was the first time Cheyenne had actually had a conversation with anyone other than him since he’d arrived. Like all people, she was different around others; she became a person Mark could relate to. And a person Jonas still admired and could love, but he just didn’t understand most of what they were talking about; they used phrases he didn’t understand.

He found he could easily fall in love with the beautiful, energetic Cheyenne Cole, but looking at Mark, he was beginning to wonder if he was suited to this world after all. Perhaps that wasn’t the cosmic plan, after all.

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Eighteen

Out of Touch, Out of Time - Chapter Sixteen

2009-02-08T21:25:00.021-05:00

July 6, 2008

The gallery where Cheyenne displayed and sold her photos was not large, but that gave it charm.

“I really like way you changed your hair,” Cheyenne said as they walked toward the door.

Jonas smiled shyly, “I saw it on TV and thought I’d give it a try, the other seemed to fit the old me, not the new me.”

“I agree,” she said with a smile.

Suddenly, a man came running out of the gallery, knocking Cheyenne to the ground.

Jonas, reached for her, but was too late to catch her before she went down. He knelt beside her. “Cheyenne! Are you all right?”

Sitting up with Jonas’ help she cried,“My camera, where’s my camera?”

He looked around, “I don’t see it, where were you carrying it?”

“The strap was over my shoulder, I felt him tug at it as I fell,” she said as she stood. "Oddly, he left my purse, though."

"Why wouldn't he have grabbed that, too?"

"Beats the hell out of me."

When he knew she was steady on her feet, he turned away and started looking around. He still couldn’t find it, and turned to Cheyenne who was walking around holding her arm, was she hurt? “Why would anyone take your camera?” he asked.

“I don’t know. I don’t think my photos are that expensive,” she tried to smile, but couldn’t. “I really liked that camera, I’ve had it for a few years, I don’t think they make that model anymore.”

“Did you lose any of your pictures?”

“No, I uploaded the card this morning.” She must have seen his puzzled look because she smiled. “Onto my flash drive. I’ll show you when we get home. Also, I pulled the card, I never leave pictures in my camera. You never know what will happen.” She frowned, “Obviously.”

“Damn,” she mumbled under her breath as they walked toward the gallery. “Now, I’m going to have to find another camera.”

He still couldn’t understand why anyone would take her camera. “Was it expensive?”

“Well, yeah, it was a professional digital camera, that model was around $5,000.00.” She looked back toward the street where the guy had disappeared. “I suppose the guy could hock it.”

Five thousand dollars? And he’d thought dinner last night was outrageously expensive. He was going to have to get caught up on exactly what a dollar would buy these days.

“He didn’t seem to be poorly dressed, at least not in my opinion. Granted, I’m not sure what would constitute poorly dressed.”

“No, I didn’t see much of him before he hit me, but, no from what I saw, he wasn’t dressed like the poor, and he certainly didn’t smell poor.”

He smiled wide as they approached the door and a man came out of the building, “That I understand.”

“Cheyenne, are you all right, I saw that guy plow right into you.” The man gave Cheyenne a quick hug.

“I’m fine,” she said.

They entered the gallery and Jonas reached out and touched her arm; the scrape was starting to bleed. “You should find someplace to clean this.”

She looked down staring at the scrape as though noticing it for the first time. “Right. Mark, I guess I should go to the bathroom, I’ll be right back, both of you.”

She smiled heading in the direction of a door with a sign with a man and woman in white. Jonas was amazed. Pictures, how wonderful for those who can’t read. Although by now, shouldn’t everyone be able to read?

The man Cheyenne had left him with stuck out his hand and said, “Mark Parkinson, the owner of the gallery and proud displayer of Cheyenne’s work.”

Jonas took the man’s hand and shook it, “Jonas Salinger. I’m a college friend staying with Cheyenne.” He felt strange saying that, but that’s what they’d decided on that morning. Cheyenne felt they needed to explain his presence.

“Ah, I wondered what it would take to bring her out of that house.”

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Seventeen

Out of Touch, Out of Time - Chapter Fifteen

2009-01-25T16:13:00.021-05:00

July 5, 2008

The restaurant was actually on the top floor of a local bar. The atmosphere was quiet and cozy, and the food good.

Jonas was always sexy, but tonight he went way beyond that. She also noticed more than one woman not being able to keep her eyes off of him. She was proud to be seen with him, proud of him for the way he’d accepted the bizarre change in his life. What must it be like to be torn from everything you know, everything familiar into a world so vastly and completely different? Not only had there been scientific advances and changes, those would be expected, even by him. But the cultural changes had to be overwhelming.

He’d been born before the Civil War. Granted, he’d only been a child, and fortunately a northern child at that, but still, he’d seen a violent war that had torn the country apart. He would have been ten when it ended, so he must have been very much aware of it, even if no one in his family was directly involved in it. Knowing that your country was tearing itself apart would be traumatizing, and would certainly impact the way you looked at life and the world around you for the rest of your life.

He’d seen the invention of electric lights, the telephone, he’d seen carriages turn into automobiles. She was sure there were many other changes, indoor plumbing being one, but history was not her forte and she knew pretty much only what most people knew.

“You’re being very quiet,” Jonas said with a chuckle after the waiter brought the food and left.

She looked at him, was he making fun of her? No, there was something gentle in his brown eyes. He would never be cruel or make fun. He was just pointing out something that for him was unusual.

She was suddenly embarrassed, he was right, for some reason in his presence she never seemed to shut up. Which was not like her. She liked her own company, and the quiet didn’t bother her at all, except when he was around. For some reason, then she felt she needed to fill the silence. Perhaps because now the silence scared her. She had to believe that as long as she talked to him, he couldn’t disappear.

“You’re still being quiet, have I upset you?”

“Oh, God, no. I was just realizing that when you’re around, I’m a chatterbox. I’m sorry.” She looked at the table before she continued, “I’m afraid if I stop talking, you’ll go back where you came from.”

He reached over and caressed her hand. “If I go back it will not be my choice, and I will find a way to get back to you.”

She smiled a sad smile, “You can’t promise that. Although I know you’ll never forget me.” She laughed a little. “I don’t think you ever could, unless something happened to your memory.” She picked up her fork, preparing to eat the food that no longer held any appeal for her.

His voice became urgent as he said, “Cheyenne look at me.”

She looked at him, fork partway from her dish, as he continued, “If I’m given a choice, I will not go back, I like it here, there’s so much more for me in this time. I can be so much more and I have you here, all I have back there is loss and memories. But, if I don’t have a choice, I’ll write you everyday. Just look in the attic where you found the pictures, my letters will be there for you. I promise. I’ll put them somewhere you’ll find, but won’t get lost through the years.”

She felt the tears forming in her eyes, her throat closed up, and there was nothing she could do to stop them.

Once again, he reached out and took her hand. “Please, I didn’t mean to make you cry. As I said once before, there was a disturbance, everything seemed to shimmer and waver. If I see that, I’ll make sure I don’t step through it again.”

“Did you intend to step through it the first time?” she asked softly.

“No, I didn’t. I inadvertently stepped backwards, not realizing I was in the middle of it.”

“And fell through. It could happen again.”

His smile was almost boyish, and she was lost, “No, it won’t, this time I won’t be surprised and step back, I’ll stand very still until it goes away.”

Okay, that could happen. She pulled her hand back wiping the tears away before picking up her fork, “See that you do exactly that.”

His voice became deep and hoarse, “Even if I have to stand there all night.”

They ate for a moment, finally he said, “This is delicious. They don’t feed servants this well in 1890.”

“You’re not a servant anymore.”

“Ah, so that’s why I get this delicious food.”

“No, you get this delicious food because you’ve come to this restaurant in my time,” she said with a smile.

They ate in silence for a while, listening to the music coming through the speakers, enjoying each other’s company before she said, “I have to go to the gallery tomorrow, would you like to go with me?”

“Yes, I would very much.”

She smiled, and the rest of the meal was spent with him asking about her work and the history of cameras, a history she did know something about, at least recent history.

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Sixteen

Out of Touch, Out of Time - Chapter Fourteen

2009-01-11T13:39:00.016-05:00

July 5, 2008

It was getting close to dark when Cheyenne finally pulled into the driveway. She sure hoped Jonas had found something to eat.

She stopped at the mailbox to check for mail and then was hit by a sudden fear. She hoped he was still there. This was the first day she’d been separated from him since he arrived.

Forgetting to even check for the mail, she ran into the house.

“Jonas, I’m back.”

Nothing, the house was quiet, and she knew no one was there. Oh God, he’d gone back.

She ran to the living room, she didn’t know why exactly, but stopped with a slide just inside the room as she saw his almost ghost-like figure through the lace curtains. She almost collapsed in the nearest chair in relief.

Walking back out the front door, she moved around the side of the house and stopped dead. His shirt was off and he was digging in the hard ground. Holy shit, he was really gorgeous. She watched the way the muscles in his well-developed chest rippled with each downward push of the shovel.

Christ, he really was her dream man. Five whole days, no more, no less, and he’d become her world. She’d done terrific today, another couple of days going through the pictures she’d taken, printing and framing and she’d be more than ready for the show. And she knew she owed it to one Jonas Salinger. Because he’d finally made her look at the world in a new way. Gone was the depression left, but unrecognized, by John the Jerk’s defection.

Jonas looked up. Seeing her he smiled and held up his finger. He reached for his shirt where he’d thrown it on the ground and stood putting it on.

As he approached, she was so happy to see him, she jumped into his arms. Laughing he gave her a big hug and when he sat her on her feet, he pulled her to him and kissed her hard. Apparently, they were both having trouble remembering to keep it on a strictly friendly basis.

“I’ve been trying to tame that overgrown mess, but I don’t know if it’ll ever look like a garden again.”

She smiled, yup, she was definitely falling in love. “Hey, I never dreamed when I wanted to restore it, it would really be authentic.”

“Oh, I don’t think it’ll look like it did for old man Hucksinger. I hated his garden; I always wanted something less structured.”

He smiled and put his finger under her chin, continuing, “And for you, you must have something wild and colorful.”

He kissed her tenderly, “Just like you.”

She leaned into him and his stomach growled. “Hungry?” she asked.

He looked into her eyes and there was no mistaking his intent when he said, “Very.” Wow, so much for the stereotypical Victorian Gentleman. So much for platonic relations. He had the same hungers as she did, and she bet it would be his turn to teach her things. She felt the heat rise in her face at the direction of her thoughts, and really hoped it was too dark for him to see.

No matter what his personal hunger was for, his stomach had other ideas and growled again. He laughed and said, “I guess I’ll have to settle for something to eat instead.”

He looked at her and rubbed his thumb under her left eye saying, “You look exhausted. Can we go out somewhere? I assume there’re still restaurants.”

She laughed, “Absolutely. From what we call fast-food restaurants to high class, very expensive restaurants and everything in between.”

“Something in between, I think. I don’t know what fast food is, but like all the other things I’ve been learning, I’m going to guess from its name it’s something you get quickly and since you mentioned it as the opposite of expensive, cheaply.”

“Yeah, and you can actually add crappy to that list, but that sure doesn’t stop us from eating tons of it,” she smiled.

His face got serious and he said, “I wish I could take you, however. I would rather we didn’t have to spend any more of your money. The new clothes were too much, not that the trip wasn’t educating.” He smiled slightly at what could only be the memory of that trip.

She smiled and softly touched his face. “When you start that great gardening business, then you can take me out to a really swank place with your first paycheck. In the meantime, I have my mother’s inheritance, and I do very well for myself with my photos.”

He kissed her hand. “I’ll remember that.”

Her heart fluttered. “I’ll see that you do.”

He dropped her hand and said, “For now, I must get cleaned up. What kind of clothes do I need?”

“I’ll find something, and if they’re too wrinkled, I’ll even iron them.” Big talk. God, she hoped there was something that didn’t need ironing because she was better at ironing wrinkles in than out. But since they’d just bought him all new clothes, they shouldn’t be too wrinkled, should they?

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fifteen

Out of Touch, Out of Time - Chapter Thirteen

2008-12-30T19:36:00.024-05:00

July 5, 2008

Jonas set down the newspaper he was reading and rubbed his eyes. He’d been in this time for five days, and yet there seemed no rhyme or reason as to why. Except for Cheyenne. That puzzled him even more. Was she the reason he was here, and if she was, was he here to save her? From what? What had caused her to come back to his time dead?

The more time he spent with Cheyenne, the more he wanted to know what had caused her to die. Obviously not time travel, as he wasn’t dead, at least not as far as he could tell. Sure, he hurt like hell, yeah, he had cuts and bruises; but unless this was some kind of strange afterlife, he was pretty sure he was alive.

Their looking into the old newspapers had given him no answers. As he suspected, there was nothing further about the gardener of the Honorable Robert P. Hucksinger other than he’d disappeared, and that was written off as a disgruntled servant. No foul play had been suspected. Certainly, there had been no account of a mysterious, half-dressed woman found dead. Did that then mean he’d changed time by coming here and she would no longer die? But if she no longer died, then how would there be an opening for him to come through time? Damn, it was all too confusing and complicated.

As for his parents and sisters, nothing. Records were not published in the paper for servants, so he didn’t even know what happened to them. Cheyenne said she’d check the genealogical information on the web when she had time, but first she had to finish taking photographs for her show in a week. He’d offered to go with her, but she’d said she’d be fine on her own, and he could spend the time reading up on history.

What he’d found out about the past one hundred and eighteen years was that it was a time of wonder with great inventions, space travel—real pictures of the moon—and war.

Too much war, one war after another. Barely did the world recover from one when another broke out. Why did man have to constantly go to war? And politics. There was nothing to be said about politics since they hadn’t changed any more than war had in the past one hundred years.

Except, apparently in 2008 anyone could become president regardless of race or sex. A change for the better. He’d known people of different races and people were people. A radical view to be sure in 1890. Maybe he’d been right when he told Cheyenne he belonged here.

It would be interesting to see just who would be elected president in 2008. If only he could be sure he’d still be here in November.

The state of the garden still made him cringe and he found himself heading for the corner of the property where his garden shed had sat. Perhaps it was still there in some semblance, and if he could just find some tools.

To his amazement, they were there. Rusted, some handles broken, but enough to get a decent start. He set the cup down, and picked up a spade.

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Fourteen

Out of Touch, Out of Time - Chapter Twelve

2008-12-14T12:23:00.026-05:00

July 4, 2008

He smiled, “Okay, but I guarantee you it’s not as exciting as yours, I’ve never been anywhere except Bluewater Village.”

Cheyenne laughed, “Now that’s an understatement, you’ve been farther than anyone else in the history of the world that I know of.”

“Okay, I guess the past three days have made my otherwise very boring life exciting. Where to start?”

“’Begin at the beginning, and go on til you come to the end; then stop.’”

“Ah, Alice in Wonderland,” he said with a smile. “’The time has come, the Walrus said, to talk of many things:…’”

“’Of shoes and ships and sealing-wax. Of cabbages and kings. And why the sea is boiling hot. And whether pigs have wings.’" She finished, laughing.

“I’m glad some things haven’t changed,” he said.

“Good literature will never change.”

“About me, well, I was born in 1855.”

“Wow, does that make you sound really, really old,” she said laughing.

“I am old, my dear, apparently very old.” He answered smiling.

“I sure hope I look as great as you do when I’m really, really old,” she commented still laughing.

He chuckled before continuing in a teasing tone, “Enough. Do you want to hear about me or not?”

She smiled at him. “I want to hear, really.”

“My father is or rather was a gardener and my mother a cook for the Hucksingers. Did you know that the Hucksingers lived in the house for several generations, and my family served them from one generation to the next from the beginning?”

To his surprise she only shook her head making no further comment and so he continued, “I have four sisters, all servants themselves. Three are married, the youngest, just twenty had only recently gone into service in a household of a friend of Mr. Hucksinger when I left.”

Jonas stopped and regarded Cheyenne. How much of his life did she want to know, and how much did he want to share? That was easy, if he stayed here, he wanted her to know everything. Even if he didn’t stay, he still wanted her to know. So he did his best to put the pain in its hiding place and continued.

“I was married, briefly, in my twenties. A beautiful woman who was apprentice to my mother as cook to the Hucksingers. She died a year after our marriage giving birth to my son, who also died within days of coming into the world three weeks before his time.” His voice broke and he cleared it before he continued, looking away from her out to sea. He watched the waves for a moment, before he felt he could continue.

“I didn’t remarry, I couldn’t do it again. The pain was too much to bear. I tried to bury it with their bodies, but I've never succeeded. My son, Joshua, had his mother’s beautiful green eyes.” He realized he wasn’t talking to Cheyenne anymore, he was actually facing what he’d kept hidden from the light for years. Suddenly, he realized that perhaps the pain could heal with time, if only he just stopped ignoring it.

“I’m so sorry,” Cheyenne said, her quiet voice breaking into his thoughts. He looked at her and felt the pain lifting even further, easing even more. He wanted to tell her that her presence made the pain less, but didn’t know how. She was right, they had no idea if he would leave or when. For both their sakes, the relationship could go no further. No matter how much he wanted her.

He forced a smile and continued his tale, “So each day passed much like the last. I dug dirt and planted flowers and made sure Mr. Hucksinger’s garden was as well ordered and neat as his life and home. I made sure the attorney’s lawn was as strict and well mannered as his law practice. It would’ve disgraced him if there was so much as a blade of grass out of place.”

Cheyenne must have seen the change in him and decided that it was for the best. She chuckled, although it was strained, and said, “Wow, okay, you win, your life was definitely more boring than mine.”

In one of her abrupt moves that tended to leave him feeling a step behind, she stood. “Let’s swim.”

Before he could answer, she’d stripped down to her swimsuit and was walking toward the water.

He stood more slowly. Yes, they were here to celebrate the day and have a good time.

As long as he was here, he would put the past where it belonged, and enjoy every day he had with the beautiful Cheyenne Cole.

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Thirteen

Out of Touch, Out of Time - Chapter Eleven

2008-11-26T16:09:00.018-05:00

July 4, 2008

Cheyenne jumped up and pulled on her shorts and t-shirt saying, “Let’s walk.”

She waited until Jonas had redressed, not bothering to put on his shoes, walking barefoot beside her. She walked past the people starting to fill up the beach toward a less populated area, all the while trying to collect her thoughts.

She wondered how she could say what she wanted and not sound as hurt as she had been for the past two years. Once she decided where to start, she was surprised at how calm she felt. Finally the pain of John’s betrayal was gone, replaced by the gentle eyes of Jonas.

“His clothes are still in the house because he ran out in the middle of the night while I was working at the computer putting together the last show I did for the gallery. He poked his head in the office and said he’d be back soon. He never came back. I’m pretty sure he took one bag with him, but he didn’t want to be obvious about it. I found out later my replacement who was waiting in the car for him was only twenty. Apparently when I reached thirty, I made him feel old.”

She shook her head, “Funny, I thought mid-life crisis was supposed to happen in mid-life, not when you reached your thirties. But John had never grown up, and I doubt very seriously if he ever will.

“No, when I said people leave me I meant my parents.”

“But your father is still alive, is he not?”

“Yes, but after my mother died, he might as well have, too.”

“I’m sorry. Do you want to talk about your mother?”

She smiled, “There’s not much to say, and to really explain it, I’d have to tell you about my entire life.”

He answered her smile, “If you want to tell me, I’m more than willing to listen.”

She chuckled, “Okay, you asked for it.”

“My parents were hippies at a time when it wasn’t really fashionable to be one anymore. In a loose fashion hippies are a bit like gypsies. My parents certainly were, anyway. They’d wanted to see the world and because they had money, a lot of money having come from wealthy families, they were able to do what they wanted. However, they never spent more than they had to, which means we always lived very simply.

“I was born at a time when they were living and working in France. My mother wanted to give me a true American name, and Cheyenne was the only thing she could think of when they asked her what she wanted to call me, so Cheyenne America is my name. How’s that for terrible?

“Anyway, until mom’s death ten years ago in China, my family and I were still traveling the world. When I was a kid, they’d enroll me into whatever educational system there was available wherever we were. Fortunately languages came easy to me since I spent the better part of my life learning new ones.

“Finally, after mom’s death, dad decided to stay in England because he just couldn’t bear to be in the US without mom and he was finally tired of traveling. I tried to live there, too, stayed for five years, but I wanted to see where my parents had grown up. When I came to Bluewater Village, the house auction had just started. I had mom’s money, so I bought the house.

“I fell in love with the house at first sight. The first thought I had was that the house needed to be rescued as much as I did. I’d spent my entire life wandering, never having a real home. So, that’s why I’m here and why I’m so determined to make the house a home. I’ve seen my dad exactly twice since I moved here, so in effect, I have no family. As I said, I lose everything I love as my dad might just as well be dead, too.”

“Doesn’t he telephone?”

“No, I remind him too much of my mother, or so he says.”

She sighed, “Enough about me, your turn.”

Chapter Ten

Chapter Twelve

Out of Touch, Out of Time - Chapter Ten

2008-11-19T18:00:00.023-05:00

July 4, 2008

Cheyenne was trying to decide on pancakes or omelets when Jonas entered.

“Are my calculations correct, it is July 4th today, is it not?”

Finally deciding on omelets, she pulled the eggs out of the refrigerator saying, “Yes, it is, and we still celebrate Independence Day. Even TV shows Twilight Zone all day every year.” She chuckled at the look on his face. She’d known before she’d even said it he’d have no idea what she meant. “Don’t worry; we’ll have time to watch an episode before we head off to the beach. It promises to be a beautiful day; I want to take full advantage of it.”

***

A few hours later, Cheyenne was amazed to find a place to park so close. That was rare for the 4th, but perhaps it was because it was still very early in the day.

“I understand now,” Jonas said with a smile as she joined him on the sidewalk. “I’m in the Twilight Zone.”

“That’s what I’ve thought all along,” Cheyenne answered with a laugh. She threw him a sidelong glance and said, “I’ll race you to the beach.”

It was a race she was destined to lose. Determination could not make up for the height differences. She just did not have Jonas’ long legs, and despite his being a Victorian Gentleman, he did not let her win.

But he did something better. As she approached, he held out his arm and grabbed her up to him, kissing her.

She smiled, “Wow, if that’s the prize for losing, I’m never going to win.”

He chuckled, “What if the prize for winning is even better?”

She regarded him. His eyes were almost black in their intensity, and she had a pretty good idea what kind of prize he was talking about. Irrational fear took over and she said without thinking how it would sound to him, “And I thought you were a gentleman.”

Surprised, he looked away. Removing his jeans and t-shirt revealing the swimsuit they’d found, he spread the towels they brought on the ground and sat down. “I’m sorry if I’ve offended you,” he finally said.

She had to save the moment, so she reached out and touched his shoulder. “No, Jonas, I’m not offended, really I’m not. In fact, I’m incredibly flattered, and I think that without a doubt I could fall in love with you, but I’m afraid. I lose everyone I love. And we just don’t know what’s going to happen. If you don’t belong here, then the cosmos will find a way to correct its mistake.”

Removing her t-shirt and shorts, she said down on the towel next to him. “I think, maybe, we should just stick to being friends.”

“I thought John left you,” he said not commenting on her statement. Not that he could. What could he say, really?

She laughed, a dry, humorless sound. “Ran away from me would be a better way of putting it. Haven’t you wondered why so many of his clothes are still in the house?” She thought for a moment before continuing without giving him a chance to answer, “Which reminds me, we really have to buy you some clothes of your own, John’s style just does not suit you, not that you don’t look great in them, but I think you need something a little less juvenile.”

He smiled ignoring her attempt to change the subject. “Yes I did wonder. Why are his clothes still here?”

Chapter Nine

Chapter Eleven

Out of Touch, Out of Time - Chapter Nine

2008-11-12T18:00:00.030-05:00

July 3, 2008

Cheyenne snuggled deeper into the couch, pleasantly full from the pizza she’d ordered. She'd spent the day with Kyle, her handyman, finally finishing up the guest bedroom, now that they had a guest to put in it. Once she'd convinced Jonas he was not needed, he'd spent the rest of the day on the computer in her office.

She'd checked on him from time to time, once entering far enough to see Neil Armstrong stepping off the Lunar Module. That time she'd backed out without comment.

She'd decided they'd finish up the day with Star Wars on DVD. Since he’d mentioned H.G. Wells and Jules Vern, she figured he’d like some classic Sci-Fi from the twentieth century. He continued to amaze her how quickly and easily he accepted the twenty-first century. If he didn’t have a frame of reference from his own time, he'd try to understand; but then would say that it would come in time and he’d learn.

She looked at him; his profile was strong and aristocratic. Which surprised her considering he’d been a servant in his time, and from what she could gather, his family had been servants for as long as he knew. But really since history was only oral in those days, especially within a family, who knew what the real truth was. Perhaps she could at a later date when she wasn't pressed for time do some checking into the Salinger family. Maybe find that he was actually fifth cousin twice removed from the Prince of Wales.

She smiled at her own thoughts.

He turned to her just then and smiled. Oh, God, her heart melted. She did not want him to go back. She wanted him to stay with her forever. How could she feel this way about a man she’d only just met, a man completely out of his world, his time? She was being so selfish. How could she ask him to give up everything?

“What were you thinking, because I don’t believe you were watching the moving pictures?”

“The movie,” she said smiling. It was another case of him comparing the present with a point of reference from his own time.

“The movie.” He smiled.

To her surprise, when she didn’t answer his question immediately, he reached for her hand pulling her toward him.

“What were you thinking?”

“I was thinking that if I look hard enough, I might find that you’re related to the Prince of Wales.”

“The British. I don’t believe there’s anything remotely British in my background.”

“Okay, then, the Prince of you name the place.”

He tentatively touched her cheek. The roughness of his hand took her by surprise. She’d forgotten he’d been a gardener and had done rough work all his life. He seemed such a gentleman to her.

“I don’t think I want to be royalty. In my time, they were always a pain in the arse.”

“I image they are in this time, too.”

Would he kiss her? Should she kiss him? Yes, she should definitely kiss him because he was too Victorian to kiss her first.

His attention was drawn back to the TV by Han Solo and Chewbacca running down a hallway. Suddenly feeling panicked by the desire she felt, she let the moment pass. She pulled back and snuggled into the warmth of the couch, trying to enjoy the movie. She didn't want to think about why the thought of kissing him scared her to death.

Chapter Eight

Chapter Ten

Out of Touch, Out of Time - Chapter Eight

2008-11-05T18:00:00.021-05:00

July 2, 2008

Jonas looked around the lending library. It was bright, cheerful and there were people of all ages and races browsing, sitting in chairs reading or at tables talking with their heads together. And then there was the row of desks with small versions of the big box in Cheyenne’s living room, only these glowed with pictures.

He followed Cheyenne, still dressed in what she’d called shorts. He smiled, an appropriate name.

The sights, sounds and smells of this time were overwhelming, but fascinating as well.

So distracted by what was going on around him, he didn’t realize Cheyenne stopped until he ran into her. He looked around and saw she was by the row of boxes with pictures. Only this close, he realized they weren’t boxes but picture frames on stands.

Cheyenne smiled, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have left you behind.”

“I promise, we’ll go home after this and I’ll catch you up on the twenty-first century, but first pull up that chair and we’ll go through the old newspapers.”

Jonas looked for a stack of papers while he pulled up the chair, which turned out to be remarkably light. Seeing no papers, he watched as she moved an oval object on the desk, and the frame came to life with a lighted picture.

“Okay,” she said looking at him. “This is a computer; a computer is a device that stores tons of information on what is called a hard drive. Please, don’t ask me any more than that, I’m a photographer, not a computer tech. I have one at home, I’ll show you how to use it and you can learn anything you want, including just how a computer works, for now, just accept that this a giant book with tons and tons of information, and at the moment, it’s a stack of all the newspapers for the past one hundred or so years.”

He stared, marveling at how long she could talk without taking a breath. “Okay, I’ve had to accept so much already, I think putting that in simple terms is not a bad idea.”

Like the trip to the lending library. He’d seen automobiles, of course, the Honorable Hucksinger had one, and it was only logical that they wouldn't be the same. But what he hadn’t expected was the speed. And the way she and others drove. Cheyenne Cody was a beautiful, enticing woman, but she was also erratic and nervous; and it showed in everything she did, including driving.

A shrill screech ripped through the library and he almost jumped out of the chair he’d just sat in.

“Crap,” Cheyenne said jumping up and reaching for her side.

She pulled a small object out of her pocket and quickly unfolded it, stopping the screeching. She looked at an area that glowed then refolded it and put it back in her pocket. “Sorry, I forgot to turn my cell off.” She must have noticed his face because she smiled. “Okay, a cell phone, hum,” she said sitting back down.

He could see her trying to figure out how to explain it to him so he said, “Never mind, I know what a telephone is and you can explain this one later. I’m no longer amazed with how much smaller something I’m familiar with is. Or faster. Although I do have to admit I’m fascinated by the light in it.”

“Wow, there’s so much. I’ve just never thought about every small thing in my life before. How much we take for granted.”

"I will learn.”

“Do you want to be here long enough to learn?” her question was tentative, as though she was afraid of the answer.

He looked at her trying to decide which answer she was afraid of. That he was staying or going? So he thought, what the hell, “Which do you want?”

She smiled, “Staying.”

“Me, too,” he answered, surprising himself. He did want to stay, he liked this century. “Oddly, I feel as though I belong here.”

“I’m glad, I want you to belong.”

He couldn’t resist, and it certainly wasn’t very gentlemanly, but he moved to kiss her gently. Just as he started to lean forward, music started playing nearby, and he looked to see where it was coming from.

A man pulled another small phone out of his pocket and stuck it to his ear, talking.

“Hum, anyway,” Cheyenne said as he looked back. “We can search the newspapers for any information on Hucksinger or your sisters. Do you have their married names? Were they married when you left?”

“Three of them were, the youngest was not.”

“Okay, give me a date to start with, and we’ll see where that takes us.”

Chapter Seven

Chapter Nine

Out of Touch, Out of Time - Chapter Seven

2008-10-31T22:39:00.039-04:00

July 2, 2008

Turning back to the stove, she said, “The eggs are almost done. I hope you don’t mind scrambled.”

“Not at all,” was all he managed to say before she continued, and he wasn’t even sure she heard that.

“And, the coffee is over there. Do you take cream or sugar?”

“Black is fine,” he looked where she pointed and saw the coffee in a glass pitcher setting in a white contraption made of a shiny material he didn’t recognize.

He reached for it, and was surprised to feel heat coming from it. “Interesting,” he said as he held his hand in front of it. No fire, how did it work?

There was a chuckle behind him and he turned to see her dividing eggs between two plates. “That’s a coffeemaker; I’ll show you how it works later.”

Taking four slices of perfectly sliced toasted bread out of a silver holder, she pointed to the table and two places set with cloth mats and napkins. “Sit while I put the bacon on these plates. I’m sorry; you do like bacon don’t you?”

“Yes, very much so."

“As to your earlier comment, I’m not a Victorian gentleman. I’m simply a gardener, no gentleman involved, just a servant.”

She smiled, “In this day and age, you’re a gentleman and although the extremely rich have servants, gardeners are respected business people.”

He smiled and took a bite of his eggs, he would have said something, but she continued, “I’ve done a bit of research on Hucksinger, he was quite a tyrant, wasn’t he?”

Jonas nearly choked on his toast. “Interesting, I always thought history favored people.”

“No, I don’t believe always. Anyway, I guess that means he was.”

“He was a typical gentleman of the time. He was an attorney and a respected member of society. Everything he, his family or his servants did he took as a personal reflection on his moral standing within the community.”

He watched as she picked up a piece of crispy bacon and broke off a bite before putting it in her mouth and chewing. Maybe while her mouth was occupied by something other than talking, although he could think of other ways to occupy her mouth than eating, he’d try to see if she could answer his questions about the woman in the garden.

“Is there any mention in that history of yours of anything strange happening here around July 10, 1890?” He held his breath, wondering.

“No… I don’t think…” She broke off another piece of bacon and chewed it before saying, “Wait, yes, maybe that’s why I paid so much attention to your picture. There was an article in the paper about Hucksinger’s gardener mysteriously disappearing. I don’t remember the date, but obviously it was sometime after that picture was taken.” She smiled and picked up her fork. “Well, I guess that mystery’s solved.”

“Did it say if I ever returned?” What answer did he want to hear? Looking at her, he didn’t know. Here he knew nothing, but from what he’d seen, it seemed a place where he could learn much, and perhaps his skills would make him better than a servant. In his own time, he was nothing but a servant, as were his sisters, and because of his family and upbringing, he would never be anything more.

And here, he could start over, forget the past. He wanted to laugh. The past was really past, a hundred and twenty-eight years past. For the first time he thought that maybe now the open wound could finally heal. Maybe the nightmares could even be put to rest.

She pulled him back to the present when she answered. “I don’t know if it ever said, or if I just didn’t dig deep enough. I’m sorry, but I was doing research on the original owners of the house, not their servants.”

“That sounds terrible. You were people, too, and you contributed as much as Hucksinger and his wife—if not more, actually, since you did all the work—to make this house what it was.”

“Yes, but we were just the servants,” he felt a need to reassure her. “In my time, we were what we were. You can’t tell me that class difference has changed, and everyone is equal. I’m not illiterate. My parents were poor, there were five children, I, the only boy, but I did go to school. I studied the history of this country. There have always been class differences.”

“Yes and there still are. And many people born in extreme poverty still can’t get out, but many others have been able to. I’d like to say there’s an equal chance for all, but I can’t. I can just say, there are, perhaps, more chances than there used to be. At least, I’d like to think so.”

“Tell me about the world today. The airplane I saw, can it go anywhere?” He smiled as a thought came to him. “Since I traveled through time, can anyone do that, like H. G. Wells wrote? Was Jules Vern right? Can Captain Nemo go Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea, and can you go from the Earth to the Moon?”

She smiled, took a bite of her eggs and with eyes wide with laughter she said, “Planes can go anywhere on earth; no, what you did is very unique; yes; yes and Mars, too.”

Chapter Six

Chapter Eight

Out of Touch, Out of Time - Chapter Six

2008-10-05T16:45:00.012-04:00

July 2, 2008

Jonas found a pair of coarse blue trousers and what appeared to be an undershirt but no shirt. He shrugged and pulled the shirt on. It was all he had and it was cleaner than his own. He also found what appeared to be underwear, although much smaller than he was used to, and socks in the pile. All seemed to fit tolerably well, if a bit snug, especially the trousers.

He sat on the edge of the bed to put his shoes on.

Why had the man moved out and left his clothes? He smiled wide. From what he’d seen of the talkative Cheyenne Cole, she’d probably kicked him out without giving him an opportunity to ask for them.

Which also brought the question: Had the world changed so much that a young woman alone could live openly with a man and not be branded a lady of the night? This was not a question he could bring himself to ask the beautiful Cheyenne. If he were here long enough, he was sure he’d learn the answer on his own. In the meantime, he had no intention of thinking less of her just because her standards of living did not match the world he was from, or the way he was brought up.

He was sure there were many common everyday things in his time that would have horrified travelers from a hundred years in his past. The world was a constantly changing place; it would be stupid to assume that it hadn’t continued to change over the past one hundred and eighteen years. Especially the morals of the people living in it. Morals had been changing even in his time.

There was no doubt in his mind that if he remained in this time, he could easily adapt. He was not a self-righteous prude, and he refused to view the world as old man Hucksinger had. Jonas had always been open to new things; and now that he had this great opportunity, he certainly wouldn’t back down just because he’d been told his entire life it was wrong. Yes, it was wrong then, but he was no longer “then”.

He smiled, leaving the room eager to learn what new wonders the day held.

Halfway down the stairs, he smelled bacon and coffee, and his stomach growled. He should have taken her up on her offer for dinner, but the whiskey had hit his empty stomach, and the exertion of being flung over a hundred years forward had left him exhausted, so he’d simply requested a room before he passed out on her again.

He hadn’t seen much of the house, the kitchen with the odd mix of appliances—he could pick out the oven, and of course the refrigerator, was that the right word?, now that she’d explained it to him. He’d been too damn disoriented to remember much of last night. Most of the other things in the kitchen didn’t make sense.

Then they’d gone into old man Hucksinger’s parlor to drink and sit for a few minutes. During his time, it was a place he saw rarely on his way to Hucksinger’s study, and only entered once. Cheyenne had called it the living room; interesting name. Once again there were items both familiar and not. The fireplace, of course, was still the same; the walls were a warm cream color, the furniture light. Although it resembled the furniture of his time, it was not the same; this furniture was comfortable to sit on and sturdy enough to hold him.

It was certainly not the dainty, uncomfortable horsehair covered sofas that Mrs. Hucksinger so favored. The intolerable dark, heavy curtains and massive amounts of clutter were also missing. The room was bright with few items lying around. There were framed photographs hanging on the walls and little else of a decorative nature besides the plants that helped to brighten up the room.

Then there was the large square item that sat on a table and the other set of odd items; he just had no idea what they could be, he would have to ask. He smiled, or he was sure she’d be more than happy to tell him even if he didn’t ask. One thing about Miss Cheyenne Cody, she could fill any silence with chatter.

Not, that he minded, he liked her voice that made him think of angels.

Entering the kitchen, he saw her standing at the stove. This morning, she was wearing very short trousers, once again the same fabric as his, only these were light blue and very soft looking and a top that reminded him of the one on the dead Cheyenne, except this one was multi-colored.

“Good morning,” he said, trying to be cheery, but the sight of her long, beautiful legs was enticing, indeed. If this was a common way for women to dress, he was definitely beginning to hope he was here for good. Especially if he could remain with the beautiful Cheyenne; that, of course, only being if she wanted him to.

She turned, and his attention was caught by the tear in the right leg of her short pants.

He must have been staring because she looked down and said, “Oops, sorry, I guess I should have thought about the fact that I’m entertaining a genuine Victorian gentleman.”

He smiled, “I may have lived during Queen Victoria’s reign, but she is/was, I don’t know what to say, in England, not here in the United States.”

“Oh, sorry. A lesson. In our time, anything during Queen Victoria’s reign is called ‘Victorian.’ It denotes the time period and the style of housing and furniture. As well as the customs and dress of the people.”

“I see, and what about our customs?”

“Well, as you can see, my shorts are a long way from the proper dresses of the women of your time. Our ankles can show, and always do. Even the feet of our tables can show.”

“Yes, I see your ankles very well, and they're quite beautiful.”

To his surprise, she actually blushed. Ah, some things hadn’t changed; he could still make a woman blush with a compliment.

Chapter Five

Chapter Seven

Fate's Ribbon

2008-09-12T20:27:00.002-04:00

Hi Everyone!

I've found a need to create another site, one for posting update news for both Sea of Moons and Lachesis' Tales .

This site will also include any outtakes and other extras for both sites. So if you want to know what's happening, just check out Fate's Ribbon. It'll be easier for me, too, to just post to one site.

To thank you all for being patient waiting for these updates, I've added a picture of a future character for the Sea of Moons who'll be joining Kerrin and Lessa in their search. Just remember, nothing in the Sea of Moons is ever exactly as it appears to be.

Take care,
Lachesis

Out of Touch, Out of Time - Chapter Five

2008-09-06T09:09:00.020-04:00

July 2, 2008

Cheyenne rolled over as her alarm went off, startling her awake. She punched the button, stopping the incessant beep and looked out the window. Not even light yet. God, she hated mornings, but she’d thought it might be for the best if she got up before her visitor. At least, she thought she had a visitor. Unless the previous evening had been part of a dream and not real.

Grabbing her robe, she knew last night had been no dream. Somehow, someway through some cosmic joke the most handsome, enticing man she’d ever seen crossed the boundaries of time and landed at her feet.

Wow, that was just too much to take in.

Trekking down the hall, trying not to be too loud, despite the squeaking floor boards, she pushed the bathroom door open and stopped dead.

Mistake. She should have suspected something when the door was actually shut.

Holy cow, if she thought he was delicious dressed; she couldn’t begin to believe her eyes. They stared at each other for a moment, before he reached for the towel, and she came to her senses and squeezed her eyes shut. Backing out of the room, she firmly closed the door behind her.

She leaned against the wall, trying to breathe. Well, there was an image that would be burned in her brain for the rest of her life. She was a photographer. A good one, or so she’d been told by the gallery owners where she showed and sold her work, and she had a good eye, took in details quickly and never missed a thing.

Wow.

The door opened and he walked out wearing the towel wrapped around his waist. She quickly looked away, but not before she found herself comparing him to her ex-boyfriend who’d made a hasty exit two years ago with his twenty-something replacement girlfriend. Once Cheyenne had passed thirty, she'd fallen over the hill as far as her ex had been concerned. Comparison final score: Jonas, ten; ex, negative twenty.

“I’m sorry I embarrassed you,” he said. "Please excuse my inappropriate appearance, my clothes were filthy. Do you have something more appropriate I may wear?"

“No, no, that’s quite alright. I’m sorry to have just walked in like that, I should have knocked first. But I thought you’d still be asleep," she said, then realized he'd asked a question. "Oh, you're fine; a towel is perfectly acceptable under the circumstances. I'm sorry, I don't have a robe that will fit, but I may have some clothes that will."

Fighting off the embarrassment she felt, she forced herself to look at him. His land in the garden had left him with a scratched cheek and black eye.

Her gaze wandered down toward his chest, and then wished she hadn’t let it. She was just trying to make sure he had no major injuries, she told herself. But Herself didn’t believe that, Herself knew better. A slightly muscled body had always left her weak in the knees.

Quickly Cheyenne turned toward the spare bedroom and said, “Let me see if John the Jerk left anything when he moved out. I should have taken all this stuff to Goodwill two years ago, but honestly, I’d forgotten I’d even thrown them in here until you needed something.” She was rambling, she knew it, but that wasn’t going to stop her.

“John the Jerk?” came the husky voice behind her. “What, may I ask, is a jerk? Not that I don’t know what to jerk something means, but somehow I don’t think in this case you are talking about pulling something hard.”

Wow, good question. Sure if you looked up the definition of “jerk” in the dictionary, there’d be a picture of her ex, but that wasn’t going to help in trying to tell Jonas.

She stopped in her tracks and he almost bumped into her. Jeez, what in the world had gotten into her, she was neither clumsy nor bumbling, but at the moment she appeared to be both.

“Sorry,” she said as way of apologizing for the abrupt stop. “Ah, no, I mean it in the slang term. Let’s get you dressed, me showered and both of us fed, and I’ll explain what a ‘jerk’ is.” Or, at least, she’d let the online dictionary explain what a “jerk” was.

She walked into the room he’d slept in, noticing the nicely made bed, and remembered hers, still unmade and a complete mess from days of not being made. Really, when she was the only person to ever see her bed and that was just before she got in or just after she got out of it, why in the world should she make it? Maybe today should be an exception. Well didn't that just raise the question; was he going to see her bed?

Shaking off the images filling her imagination, she walked to the basket she’d thrown the clothes in saying, “Just look through here and take your pick. I'm sure something will fit.” She looked at the basket and continued, “I’m sorry they’re in a pile, hopefully you can find something not too wrinkled. I promise, they are clean. Anything in the hamper I threw away, but I’ve been intending to take this mess to the Goodwill.” She looked at him as he opened his mouth, “No, don’t ask. I’ll show, maybe, or I’ll explain later.”

Walking to the door she said, “I’ll just let you dig through that, then, while I get cleaned up.”

She turned back. “Are you staying, do you think? Or are you going to be flying back the way you came?”

He lifted an eyebrow and smiled, “Do I finally get to say something?”

“Ah, yeah,” Cheyenne said embarrassed, she had been hogging the conversation. But, damnit, she was nervous.

“The clothes in the basket are fine, I’m sure I can find something. I wasn’t going to ask about good will, I know what the two words mean; I’m guessing it’s a charity organization of some sort that takes clothes. And, lastly, I have no idea if I’m going back soon or not, but since there was a disturbance in the atmosphere before I came here, I can only guess that it would take the same disturbance for me to go back.”

“Oh, okay, good,” she stammered before going out the door.

Jonas watched as she practically turned and ran. He couldn’t help the chuckle before turning to the basket.

He should be scared, he should be worried, and he should be wondering just what god had decided to use him as a plaything. He should be wondering, if indeed, he was going to be returning to his own time, his friends, and his family.

Surely, his sisters would be worrying by now, and what about the body that mysteriously appeared in Hucksinger’s garden. He should be worried that if he did return to his own time, he’d be arrested for murdering the woman who had just left the room very much alive.

He should be wondering if he’d gone mad watering old man Hucksinger’s garden to perfection.

But he wasn’t wondering about any of those things. What he was wondering was what the beautiful Cheyenne Cole would do if he kissed her to shut her up.

Chapter Four

Chapter Six

Out of Touch, Out of Time - Chapter Four

2008-08-16T22:23:00.036-04:00

July 1, 2008

“Two thousand eight! What kind of sick joke is this?” Fear like he’d never known pierced his heart. Oh, God, he was dead and this was purgatory. But why had a beautiful woman falling from the sky caused him to die? He believed an angel should have approached him and guided him into death, but his angel had arrived dead. Ah, that was it, even the afterlife could mess up and here he was dead with no proper guidance.

She put her hand on his arm. “Come with me now that I see you can walk. Let’s get you in the house where you can sit and I can bring you something to drink.”

“I don’t want something to drink, I just want answers.”

“I’m trying to do that, but this is as difficult for me as for you.

"Well, maybe not as difficult for me, I didn’t just skip a whole century to land in the new millennium.”

Suddenly, Jonas was very tired, very sore and very hungry. Thirsty could have been a part of that as well, and he could see that standing out here in this weed patch was not going to get him answers. “Do you have any whiskey?” He didn’t really think a young woman would have whiskey; but so many other things were wrong with this, maybe by some strange occurrence something would be right.

“Yes, my father loves whiskey, so I keep some on hand.”

“Is your father home?”

Her laugh floated back to him as she led the way into the house. “No, in 2008 women are allowed to live alone.”

“Are you a widow, then?”

“No, never married, just out of college; I went later than most. Now I'm trying to make my mark in the world.”

A woman in collage, now that he understood. “So you’re a suffragette.”

She held the door open for him and smiled, “Nope, no need for them anymore, they won. In the 1920’s we were granted the right to vote in all elections with the 19th Amendment. Although, the women’s movement is still alive, we can be who we want to be, for the most part.”

Confused, he followed her into what should have been the kitchen. He stopped short just inside the door.

This was nothing like the garden, or the cracked brick on the house. This room had been freshly painted in a creamy white. What had happened? It hadn't looked like this this morning. Where had all the cabinets come from, and what were most of the things on them?

He saw her try to reach the whiskey from a high cabinet and moved forward to help.

"These seem a good idea until someone such as yourself tries to use them.”

“Thank you,” she said taking the bottle from him. He was careful not to touch her. Somehow he felt he would be burned if he did. Not literally, he didn’t think he was in hell, yet, but figuratively.

“I don’t have a problem with the lower shelves, and I only store things I don’t normally need on that shelf. Then I usually use a stepladder."

She moved to another cabinet and got him a large glass saying, "Sorry, I don't have anything smaller."

Opening a cabinet that went from the floor almost to the ceiling, she asked, “Ice or straight?”

By this time he was so confused, he didn’t know what to say except to murmur, “Ice.”

She smiled and said, “Come here.”

“Why?”

“I want you to get them yourself.”

“Get what myself?”

“The ice cubes.”

“There’s ice in there? Why is it steaming?”

“Because it’s warm out here and cold in there and the fan’s blowing. This is the refrigerator, very much like your icebox, except ice is no longer brought to the house. Electricity keeps everything in here either cold or frozen.”

As he limped over, he felt the cold grow stronger. It was, indeed very cold and when he got in front of it, he saw there were squares of ice in a container, along with many small boxes and bags. He took one square of ice out and put it in the glass. Then he read one of the boxes, “Toaster Strudel.” Puzzled, he looked at her as she closed the door. “Why do you toast strudel?”

She smiled, took his glass and moved to the cabinet to pour the whiskey. A good portion, thankfully, he was going to need all the fortification he could get.

And her next words didn’t help any. “I’ll show you in the morning. You are still going to be here in the morning, aren’t you?”

Chapter Three

Chapter Five

Out of Touch, Out of Time - Chapter Three

2008-08-10T12:12:00.031-04:00

July 1, 2008

Jonas watched as the crazy woman disappeared into his employer’s home. What the hell was going on? Why had he fallen from the sky into the back area of the house when just seconds before he'd been in the front of the house? How the hell had he gotten airborne in the first place?

After a couple of tries, he finally pushed himself off the ground, but found the world going out of focus for a moment or two before it returned to normal. If indeed this nightmare was his employer’s home, there should be a bench nearby.

He turned slowly and almost cringed when he saw the mold stained bench sitting where he’d placed it. Areas had been worn away by weather but it still looked as though it would hold him.

When he put his weight on his right foot, he realized he’d twisted his knee. Fucking great. He hobbled over to the bench, sat down and looked around.

For the hundredth time, where the hell am I? This was indeed his garden, or at least some overgrown monstrosity of it. The wall had crumbled; half the statues were missing, as were the flowers, replaced by weeds, and the gazing ball no longer held a place of honor. Looking toward the house, the stables were nowhere to be seen, he couldn’t see the herb garden from where he was sitting, but based on everything else, he was sure it was a mess. Grass grew in the cracks of the walk.

This was his home, no doubt of that. He knew every inch of the grounds, had planted and cared for them himself, but what could have possibly occurred to cause this? Had he been ill? Had something happened to the Hucksingers when the air shimmered and the woman fell? Had they been accused of murder? And mostly, how was the dead woman now alive? Too many unanswered questions.

And then he looked at the home of the Honorable Robert P. Hucksinger, esquire, and smiled. That he found to be poetic justice. The man was such a tyrant for proper appearances. Always the best face forward, he always said. But how had the house gotten into this state?

Suddenly there was a roar of thundering sound from the sky above and he looked up through the broken trellis where just a short time ago there were climbing roses to see a giant silver vehicle flying by.

“Don’t worry, that’s just an airplane. You had airplanes in your time, didn’t you? They’ve just gotten faster and bigger in the past hundred or so years."

He hadn’t heard her coming back and stared at her. He understood the words, but the meaning was beyond him.

For the first time he realized she wasn’t wearing the same clothes he’d seen her in when she’d flown at him dead. She was wearing something way too short, in soft colors and funny looking purple boots, but it all looked as though it belonged on her.

As she sat next to him, he looked into her deep blue eyes and realized he liked the gleam of amusement that shown in them. She was even more beautiful in life than death. And just what the hell did that mean? "The planes fly close here because I’m near the airport.”

“Okay,” she said, holding a photograph towards him. It was old, yellowed, and the corner had been creased back. He took it from her hand and suddenly felt everything spinning out of control again just as he thought he’d gotten himself grounded. “What…”

“Yup, I was pretty sure that was you.” She reached over and took his hand, turning it over. “See, your name’s written on the back. And the year, 1889.”

“I remember when this was taken, but how did it get so yellow in a year? Was it left out in the sun?”

Her soft hand touched his face and she turned him towards her so she could look directly at him. “Jonas, it’s been more than a year. It’s been one hundred and nineteen years to be exact.”

“What! You’re mad.”

Jonas pulled back from her and jumped up, pain shooting up his leg from his twisted knee.

Quietly she handed him a newspaper. Crisp, white and the only thing about it that was familiar was the name of it. It was thicker than any paper he’d ever seen, and there was a photograph on the front page, in color. Then, fear in his heart, he looked at the date. July 1, 2008.

Chapter Two

Chapter Four

Out of Touch, Out of Time - Chapter Two

2008-08-01T22:47:00.021-04:00

Bluewater Village July 1, 2008

Cheyenne Cole stared at the stranger who’d just fallen from nowhere to land at her feet, missing her by inches.

She couldn’t help but look at the sky. No planes, no parachute on the man’s back, no hang glider caught in a tree, and she didn’t really believe he’d just jumped from the roof of her home. So, just where the hell had he come from?

She looked at him closely. Well, he was breathing, so he was alive, that was good. Right?

Whoever he was, he couldn’t stay out here, and it’d be dark soon. How was she supposed to move him? She could call an ambulance, but that would be very difficult if not impossible to explain. Hello, yes well this handsome man dressed very strangely has just fallen from nowhere into my wreck of a backyard and seems to have knocked himself out. No, no, I don’t see any obvious injuries besides a few scratches on his face, but since he’s out cold, I can’t move him either.

Just then, he groaned and his eyes flickered open. And what eyes they were. The darkest chocolate brown she’d ever seen, and how she loved chocolate.

“You’re dead,” he said in a husky voice that had to be the sexiest voice she’d ever heard in her life. Christ, she thought, am I awake? My dream man just fell out of the sky and landed at my feet.

She wanted to giggle at the sheer absurdity of it, and then his words penetrated. “I beg your pardon?” she asked.

He tried once to sit, and then fell back. Mumbling so low she could just barely make out the words, and even then they weren’t anything a six year old wouldn’t say. He tried again, this time succeeding.

“I said, you’re dead, therefore, I must be dead as well.”

She sat down hard on the ground next to him and said, “I don’t feel dead.”

“I wish I didn’t.”

“I really don’t think you’re dead, either. But where did you come from?”

He turned his head just a little and winched. “You know, I don’t think I’m dead either. I hurt too much to be dead. I somehow have never believed that death was this painful.”

“I doubt you feel anything at all in death, but how did you get in here? Were you hang gliding?” Oh, yeah, that she really believed. Not.

This time he turned slower and was able to make the move, but the look on his face was filled with such confused horror that she began to wonder if landing on his head had scrambled his brain.

“What the fuck?” he said, his words hushed and barely discernible.

She wanted to smile. He’d seemed so restrained up to that point, it was nice to know he was a human male after all. “Once again, where did you come from?”

This time when he looked at her there was fear as well as confusion in his brown eyes. “Where am I?”

Ah, a question she could answer, but he still hadn’t answered hers. Well, she’d humor him, she was pretty sure she could outrun him if he turned out to be a serial killer. “You’re in my garden.”

He looked around with shocked amusement. “Lady, I’m a gardener and I know this is not a garden.”

“Well, it will be a garden when I get done restoring it. I have pictures of what it used to look like in the 1890’s.” She stopped short, forgetting what else she was going to say.

She had a thoroughly shocking thought and looked closer at the man sitting in front of her. “What’s your name?” she asked, practically holding her breath.

“Jonas Salinger. What do you mean, ‘what it used to look like in the 1890’s’? This is 1890.”

Oh, Christ, what the hell was going on? This man really looked like the man in the picture she’d found in the attic of the garden and gardener, he was even wearing the same style of clothes. And Jonas Salinger had not only been written on the back of the picture, but had been mentioned in the household accountings as well for being paid.

When she didn’t answer right away, he said, “I repeat, what do you mean?”

She thought for a moment and then jumped up saying, “Hang on a minute, I’ll show you.”

“Hey, whatever your name is, wait.” He tried to stand, but fell back to the ground.

She ran a few steps before turning back and saying, “No, wait here, I have something very important to show you, so please be patient.”

She ran up the steps then turned back and said, “Oh, I’m Cheyenne Cole, by the way.”

“Cheyenne, that’s an Indian nation.”

“It’s also the capital of Wyoming, but that’s my name just the same.”

Chapter One

Chapter Three

Out of Touch, Out of Time - Chapter One

2008-07-20T18:02:00.026-04:00

Bluewater Village July 10, 1890

Jonas Salinger thought he heard a train heading straight for him.

Startled, he looked up from the flowers he was watering and stared in the direction the sound was coming from. Of course, it was impossible for a train to be anywhere near him since he was standing in the formal garden of his employer, the Honorable Robert P. Hucksinger, esquire.

To his left was the fence that separated the house from the street, to the right, the herb garden and the stables, behind him a wall and directly in front of him, the parlor. Therefore, he confirmed to himself that it was, indeed, impossible for him to have heard or felt, as the ground was also shaking, a train.

He looked to the sky, as clear and blue as was possible, not even a wisp of a fluffy cloud to be seen. So, that ruled out a thunder storm.

Then, the sound grew, the ground shook even more and the air around him began to shimmer.

He found himself moving toward the street, not sure why. He looked up and he felt as if he were looking through water.

The shimmer began to ripple and a woman fell from above, landing on the walkway nearby.

Her clothing was strange, she was wearing coarse blue pants and less than a proper woman’s chemise, her lower legs and feet were bare. Instinctively he knelt to see if she were all right. She was beautiful, her skin soft and unmarred on the side he could see, but by the trickle of blood seeping into the ground, he realized she must have cut her face when she landed. The spattering of light freckles across her nose made her look young and innocent. Then he looked at her large, blue eyes staring lifelessly at him and jerked back.

She was very dead.

Shock overtook him at the thought of dead, half-dressed women falling out of nowhere to land at his feet.

He stepped backward.

What he hadn’t realized was that the shimmer was not only in front of him, but surrounding him as well; and when he took the step back, he was pulled off of his feet. He lost all control; one minute there was a mysterious dead woman at his feet and the home of his employer in front of him. Then there was nothing but shimmering light, and the air being sucked from his lungs.

Then as quickly as he’d been pulled in, he was spit out, landing face down. What little air he had left was forced from his lungs when he contacted the hard ground.

“Oh, my God. Are you all right? And where the hell did you just come from?”

The voice sounded like an angel and Jonas wondered for a moment if he were dead. He felt himself being turned over, causing his head to explode and every part that had connected with the ground to protest the move; and he knew he wasn’t lucky enough to be dead.

As he landed on his back a face appeared above him. A beautiful face surrounded by a halo of soft golden hair.

The face of the woman who’d just fallen at his feet. Dead.

“What the hell?” he murmured before giving into the pain and blacking out.

Chapter Two