Past Destinies. Constance Ruth Clark
uncomfortable as he met his wife’s nervous gaze.
“I simply wondered,” Elizabeth said, even more confused by their reactions.
“Well,” Uncle David said, clearing his throat. “The truth is….” He trailed off and looked at Aunt Mabel, who nodded faintly. He began again. “The truth is that Mabel, as you know, is your father’s sister. Your mother, Anne, died the night you were born. She knew your father would be lost, alone with a baby, so she asked him to leave you with us. He said he’d be back to get you one day when you were grown, but we haven’t heard from him in years. He used to send a little money now and then, but that hasn’t happened for a while now.”
“Why didn’t you tell me this before?” Elizabeth demanded. Her father was alive! He hadn’t died when she was born as she’d been led to believe all this time.
“We’re sorry, dear. We felt it best if you didn’t know until you were old enough to understand,” Aunt Mabel said, discreetly wiping away a tear. “We meant to tell you, but after all this time it almost seemed irrelevant.”
“But my father is still alive? He said he’d come back for me when I was older, didn’t he?” Elizabeth challenged, both scared and exhilarated at the same time. “Why didn’t you warn me sooner?”
“We’re not sure.” Uncle David shifted in his seat. “We haven’t heard from him in about five years now. He could be dead by now, for all we know.”
“No, he’s alive,” Elizabeth said with sudden certainty. Somehow she knew it was true. Pushing back her chair she stood up.
“Please don’t think less of us dear, I couldn’t bear it,” Aunt Mabel pleaded, tears shining in her blue eyes.
Elizabeth reached out and hugged her.
“Of course I don’t think less of you!” she said softly. “You’re the only parents I’ve ever known. My mother knew you were wonderful people, and that you would care for me as if I was your own, which you’ve done. She chose well. You gave me a proper home, and I wouldn’t have had it any other way.”
Aunt Mabel hugged her tightly, before wiping her eyes with her apron.
“Bless you child,” she said. “You mean as much to me as any child of my own flesh ever could.”
Elizabeth retired early that night, exhausted from a long day of dealing with energetic horses, Mr. Carver, and the revelations from her aunt and uncle. As she was drifting off to sleep, she kept hearing the voice of the seer at the fair. In her dreams, she again saw herself standing with the gypsy and looking at her soul mate, but unlike the first time, she couldn’t make out details of his face and could only see his eyes.
“Look for the man out of place here…he is your soul mate…what you want you shall have…when you kiss him you will know…you know who he is…he is dead in this life…strange things will happen…”
Elizabeth sat up in bed, breathing hard. The sun was filtering in among the crisp white curtains at her windows, and she blinked away the foggy memory of a blue-eyed man from her dreams.
Chapter 5
1868
The bang of a door closing startled Doug awake. Puzzled, he sat up and found he was naked on a prickly feather mattress on a small, uncomfortable double bed. It took seconds to realize that he wasn’t in his own bedroom anymore. Where the hell was he? For a second he thought he’d been kidnapped. But no, there was no one in the room with him, and he wasn’t tied up. Weird. Shivering, he pulled up the blankets to cover himself and could see his breath. Damn, what happened to the heat?
“I’ve got to stop drinking so much before I go to bed,” he said out loud.
Looking around, he noticed a tall narrow window opposite his bed, decorated with a simple red curtain. The hardwood floor boasted nothing more than a round rag rug. A very plain room, overall, especially compared to the lavishly decorated, not to mention warm, room he had fallen asleep in.
While he sat there, wondering where exactly he was, a sharp rap sounded on the door, scaring the hell out of him. He lived alone and any hired help he had to cook or clean would have never dreamed of disturbing him.
“Mr. Coleman, are you out of bed yet?” a feminine voice inquired.
“Why do you want to know?” he threw back, hoping to find out who she was.
“It doesn’t concern me one way or another, it’s your life. If you wish to laze about in bed while the sun is high in the sky, it’s no concern of mine. I just thought you might want some breakfast. It seems I was wrong.” Each sentence was punctuated with a loud sniff, the woman’s voice sounding sharper and more annoyed with each word.
“I’ll be right down,” he said, bemused. Apparently, sarcastic women came with this strange room.
“Don’t be too long. I have more to do today than wait around for you.” Above her retreating footsteps he heard her muttering about lazy men.
Several things became obvious very quickly, the first being that he had no idea how he had arrived at his present location. The second, that he wasn’t all that worried about it after hearing the voice on the other side of the door. Maybe he should have been more concerned, but at least something unusual and interesting was happening. He’d been stagnating for a while in his career and life, waiting for something better to come along. He couldn’t argue that his current situation was better, but it was definitely different. And right now, different sounded pretty darn good to him.
He got out of bed, wincing as his feet touched the cold hardwood floor, and looked around. Shivering, he noticed he could see his breath every time he exhaled. He’d been in cold like this before but never inside, and certainly never naked. He had to find some clothes before he froze his pecker off. Even his morning wood retreated from the cold, something that had never happened before.
Pulling on a pair of pants he found tossed across the back of a hardwood chair, he felt slightly better but wished he could jump in a hot shower. His mind was still a little fuzzy from the over-imbibing he’d done last night, and he hoped the steamy water would help clear his head.
A small, old-fashioned washstand stood beside his bed. The white porcelain pitcher inside the washbasin was filled with water. Poking in a finger to test it, he found the water still hot. He guessed this was what he would have to use to wash and shave. Why else would it be here? It wasn’t a shower, but he wasn’t going to be fussy.
Picking up some soap from the soap dish, he proceeded to wash up with the washcloth and towel provided. There was a funny-looking razor blade which turned out to be sharper and more dangerous than any he’d ever used before, and some thick, foamy soap in a cup, which he guessed to be shaving cream. Using the mirror above the bureau, he carefully shaved, nicking himself only a couple of times. But he was proud of the job he did overall. He could easily have slit his own throat.
Rinsing off the razor, he put everything back where he’d found it. If only he could find a toothbrush. He cupped some of the water from the pitcher in his hand and quickly rinsed his mouth. Not as fresh as Scope but better than nothing.
He was beginning to get really cold, so he pulled on the undershirt and a thicker shirt with a stiff collar that had also been thrown on the chair. They weren’t his, but he was too cold to care. Glancing out the window, he was shocked to see patches of snow on the ground.
I don’t think I’m in Los Angeles anymore, he thought, laughing to himself.
Clearly he was in a primitive place. Maybe an Amish farm? There weren’t any telephone poles outside, he noticed as he dressed, unsure what the significance of that fact might be.
The clothes fit as if they had been tailored to him, and he found a pair of thick socks and boots under the bed which were also just right. Leaving the room, he noticed a heavy coat hanging on a hook and grabbed it as he walked out the door.