read the first three paragraphs, and all the blood left his head.
“Sweet Jesus.” Stars danced before his eyes, and a cold sweat beaded his brow. Daniel scooted his chair away from the table. “I need air.”
Pushing himself up on shaky legs, he lurched for the front door, desperate to escape the cabin, the woman who—by his own account—had come to him from the distant future—a future in which he’d been a ghost.
11
“Well, that went well.” Meredith wiped her sweaty palms down the fabric of her skirt. Charles remained standing, as rigid as a fence post, keeping a safe distance from the table … from her.
“You should read this, Mr. Hannigan.” She tapped the letter. “The contents involve you as well.”
He didn’t move.
“I suggested Daniel write a few personal things in order to convince you both of the letter’s authenticity.”
“The both of us?” he hissed out.
“Yes, because you need to know what will happen to you both two weeks from now.” She lifted her chin. “To convince you, Daniel wrote about the time you two stole a blackberry pie from Mrs. Delaney’s windowsill. He also mentioned Katherine Rose, the girl you both fancied when you were fourteen.”
Charles sucked in an audible breath. His face went pale, and a fine sheen of perspiration glistened on his brow. “You can’t know those things. It isn’t possible.”
“Yet I do, and it is.” Her last nerve snapped. Beginning with Oliver’s stupid stunt, the physical toll of time travel, the reality of actually being in the past with all its dangers, Charles’s suspicious glare, and Daniel’s hasty exit, she was perilously close to a meltdown.
“Please read the damned letter! I’ve risked a lot to try and save the two of you, and I’d appreciate it if you’d at least do your part.” Meredith plopped her elbows on the table and buried her face in her hands. Exhaustion rolled over her like one of those road construction machines that flatten hot asphalt. To make matters worse, the beginnings of a headache throbbed at the back of her skull.
The silence inside the cabin was deafening, and then the sound of … foil? Her head snapped up in time to see Oliver pop a square of dark chocolate into his mouth. “I’d like one of those, Oliver.”
“Tough.” He flashed her a resentful look. “I’ll sell you a piece for five silver dollars.”
Meredith was about to remind him that he hadn’t paid for the bags of chocolate in the first place. John Schulte had, but then Charles let loose a growl and turned his glare to Oliver.
“I don’t like your attitude, boyo. Give the lady a piece of whatever it is she wants, or leave. Those are your only two options.” He lifted his chair from the floor and brought it back to the table. Charles sat down and reached for the letter, not bothering to look at Oliver again.
His eyes wide, Oliver’s face blotched with red again. Meredith was as surprised as he was by Charles’s outburst.
“Now, lad, and seeing as how we’ll be feeding and providing you with a roof over your head for the foreseeable future, I’ll have one as well. Bring a few to the table for Daniel while you’re at it.”
Oliver hopped to and fetched a handful of chocolates from his backpack. Without a word, he brought them over and placed the foil-wrapped squares at the center of the table. Then he resumed his place beside the stove, once again retreating into a sulk.
Meredith’s eyes filled, mostly from exhaustion, but also from anxiety and uncertainty. So much hinged upon this trip. There were other considerations as well, things she hadn’t thought of, like whether or not she was up to date on her tetanus shots. What other diseases could she catch? Were there poisonous snakes in these mountains? What if they failed to stop the maniacal miscreants?
She blinked furiously as she unwrapped the chocolate and bit into the dark, velvety sweetness. “Daniel told me he has quite the sweet tooth.” Another personal detail he’d shared with her.
“Aye, that he does,” Charles said in a distracted tone. He set one page aside and began reading the next. “God above, I don’t know what to make of this,” he muttered to himself.
“I can imagine.” She glanced at Charles. “Should I go after Daniel?”
“If you wish. He’ll be at the goldmine. Even before we discovered the wee cave, he’d always go to that hill when needing privacy or to clear his head.” He lifted his gaze to hers.