“Dan, I saw the pictures of Meredith’s family, her wee nephew, and her identical twin sister. Meredith spoke about her aspirations to work on an advanced degree and to become a professor of history. She can’t do that in our era, here or in Ireland.” Charles shook his head. “I see two people on parallel paths, both with ambitions and dreams they wish to pursue. That she came here to save our lives was a generous, courageous act, and I’m grateful, but …”
“But?”
“Well, I wouldn’t want to be in your shoes, and that’s the truth.” He flashed him a sympathetic, almost pitying look. “You have obligations and responsibilities here. What of the promise you made to your mother? What of Meredith’s family, her career, her dreams? You’d have her give them up for you?” Charles grunted. “Best let her go, lad. There’s no way to—”
“Perhaps she and I will flip a coin.” He stomped to the barrel holding the mules’ feed and lifted the lid. “Meredith is my destiny, and I love her more than I ever imagined possible. Fate brought her to me, and I will not let her go.” Conflicting emotions churned through him, and guilt had the upper hand. “I’ll thank you not to speak disparagingly about her not belonging here ever again.”
“Why is that? Could it be you fear she knows I’m right? She doesn’t belong here anymore than you belong in the twenty-first century. Existing as a ghost does not qualify as belonging, and you know it. We’re on the cusp of realizing our goals. What do you have that would land you in good stead in the twenty-first century?” Charles’s face had grown ruddy, a sure sign of his anger.
“Nothing. That’s what,” Charles bit out. “You can’t take our goldmine with you, and I doubt Meredith would be satisfied for long as the wife of an impoverished, landless farmer. What will that do to your pride? How long will it take before the love between you two dimishes? When taking a wife, there’s far more to consider than fanciful, romantic notions.”
They’d come to blows if he didn’t end this conversation now. Daniel scooped grain into a bucket and headed for the mules’ stall. “Brush them down, and I’ll fetch water and hay.”
“That’s it? The discussion is over?” Charles asked, his tone incredulous. “You always do this when you know I’m right.”
“I always do this when the conversation gets out of hand, and it has naught to do with who is right and who is wrong.” He cut Charles a pointed look. “We’ve an ambush to survive. Let’s focus upon that for the time being.”
Charles continued to grumble to himself, and Daniel refrained from mentioning that his friend always continued their arguments on his own—presenting only his side and never Daniel’s. Instead, he went about filling the feed bins with grain and the rack with sweet-smelling hay. Then he pumped and carried buckets of water and topped off the trough, leaving Charles to do the rest.
The windows glowed warmly against the gathering dusk, and Meredith waited within. He refused to consider any outcome that didn’t see them wed and living together for the rest of their lives. Whenever his mind strayed to the unpleasant truths Charles had stirred, he forced his mind to other things, like the feel of his lover’s warm, soft form snuggled against him. His pulse quickened, and he could hardly wait to lie beside her again.
He stomped the dirt from his boots and entered. Oliver sat upon his pallet of blankets, his back against the wall, and one of the dime novels opened on his lap.
The lad looked up briefly and grinned. “These are ridiculous,” he said, his tone gleeful, holding up the western adventure book. “And addicting. I’m going to have to go back for more.”
Meredith sat at the table, a cup of tea in front of her, and another of Oliver’s books in hand. “I agree. This is an outrageous example of hyperbole.” She laughed, holding up the book so he could see the sensationalized cover.
Daniel helped himself to a cup of tea. He took a seat by the stove and settled in to wait the interminable time it would take before Charles and Oliver went to bed. “How many of those novels do you have?”
“Six.”
“May I borrow one?”
“Sure. Of course.” Oliver set his book down and rose from the floor. He went to the corner where he kept his belongings and reached into his pack.