Forever and Always Read online

  Once in Darci’s room, I wasn’t sure what to do with her and wished I’d taken her outside to the Quarters. But it had rained the night before and I knew it was cool outside. The only thing I could think to do with Darci was to get her warm.

  I put her in bed, removed her shoes, then wrapped the blankets around her, but she didn’t respond.

  “What happened?” I asked her. “Tell me what Sylvia said that’s upset you.”

  Darci just lay there, staring up at the ceiling. If my words didn’t get through to her, maybe my visions would, I thought. I put my hands on her upper arms and my forehead against hers as I sent images to her of her talking to me.

  No response. Standing, I stuck my hands in my pockets and walked to the fireplace. Outside, I could hear voices. I opened the window and looked out. Through the trees I could see the corner of the back terrace below. All the guests, with Delphia and Narcissa, were out there. I couldn’t see them for the thick foliage, but I could hear them, could identify each voice. By now I could have identified their headless bodies in a morgue. They were laughing in an excited way. “Wonder if they’ve been told that my son has given in to their demands?” I said out loud, hoping Darci would hear me through her catatonic state. “My son is being threatened that his mother will be killed if he doesn’t use his powers to kill someone for those women. Did they choose who got to go first tonight?”

  I knew my voice was as bitter as I felt. Why did Darci have to choose tonight to go into some sort of trance?

  There was a light tap on the door. Angry, I flung it open. “I told you that—” One of the unsmiling female employees was standing there, a tiny glass of the green liqueur on a tray. Since there was only one, it was obvious that they didn’t want me drinking the laced stuff and falling asleep in Darci’s room.

  I thanked the woman, took the tray, then closed the door and locked it.

  Maybe sleep would help her, I thought. I sat down on the bed beside Darci, pulled her up into my arms, and managed to get the drink into her. She made no response and I held her until she fell asleep.

  Gently, I lay her down, got off the bed, then covered her.

  Now what? I thought. Below me, I could no longer hear the voices so I was sure the women had been put into their nightly drug-induced stupor. I wondered if they realized what was being done to them—or had they agreed? I’d heard Sylvia Murchinson say she’d signed a prenup saying she’d receive nothing if her husband divorced her. In spite of knowing her penchant for “pool boys,” she’d signed the agreement anyway. I could imagine that a woman like that would agree to being drugged and locked in at night if the end result was that she’d get “mega millions.”

  Turning, I looked at Darci on the bed, sound asleep, but frowning and restless. Whatever had been said to her had turned her mind upside down.

  I had no doubt that what was said had something to do with her husband. I prayed that she hadn’t been told that her husband was dead.

  I looked at the setting sun and thought that, without Darci, I couldn’t do much. If she couldn’t find my son with all her powers, I couldn’t—

  Suddenly, I remembered what Darci and I had talked about before dinner: Amelia would be waiting in the twilight for Martin and her baby.

  I left Darci’s bedroom as fast as I could go, bounded down the stairs and ran out to the Quarters. I paused for a moment to remember exactly what Darci had said. “Double trunked elm tree by the edge of the river.” The river was easy to find, about two hundred yards from the slave quarters. To the right was the road so the tree had to be to the left. I started running.

  When I saw the tree, there was Amelia sitting on a bench that I doubted was actually there and doing her crochet.

  Halting, I watched her for a moment and tried to compose myself. Every night for over a hundred years she’d gone to this spot and waited for my ancestor. It’s where she’d met him when they were alive. She’d been safe at this time of day because her husband had been in the Quarters with the slave women.

  I didn’t want to think about that time. I just wanted to get my son, and Devlin had said a slave could help. If Amelia Barrister wasn’t a slave, I didn’t know who was.

  “Hello,” I said quietly so as not to startle her.

  But she’d been waiting for Martin—who she thought I was—for about a hundred and twenty years so, yes, she was startled.

  She dropped her crochet on the ground, put her hands over her face and began to cry. “You came,” she said over and over. “You came.”

  I’d promised Darci I wouldn’t do anything with the ghost without her there, but Darci was upstairs, drugged into sleep, and ghost or not, this pretty woman was in pain. I went to her, sat on the ground before her and put my head on her lap.

  Amelia stopped crying and put her hands on my head, caressing my neck, running her fingertips over my face, memorizing and remembering.

  So this is love, I thought, my hands on her legs through her heavy skirts. I kissed her fingertips as she touched my lips. This is love. The love wasn’t coming from me but from her, and what I felt made me understand every song, every movie I’d ever seen. Until that moment I hadn’t understood how anyone could, say, give up a great movie role to be with another human. I’d complained about Alanna choosing a movie over me but I’d understood.

  What I hadn’t understood until this moment was what people whined so much about. “I love her, man,” I’d heard too often. And Darci! She had everything. She had money, beauty, power, but she was miserable because she didn’t have the man she loved.

  The love I felt coming from Amelia was enough to make me understand—and, more, it made me want that kind of love. It made me want to be part of what the rest of the world was experiencing—the lucky ones, that is. And I knew, without a doubt, that this was what that Shape-Changer had meant for me to remember, that love is all.

  I don’t know how long we stayed like that but, slowly, I began to come back to reality. What do I do now? I thought. The last time I saw Amelia I’d mentioned our son’s—her son’s—name and she’d disappeared. If Darci were here she might know what to do, but then Amelia believed Darci was the slave sent to spy on her.

  I took a breath and gave a prayer, asking for help in knowing the right way. I took Amelia’s hands in mine. They were soft and young and as solid as anyone’s hands. I could not, for the moment, believe she was a ghost.

  “I want you to listen to me,” I said softly, “and I don’t want you to disappear again.”

  “Disappear,” she said, smiling. “You do say odd things.”

  I held her hands tighter. “How many times have you come to this tree and Martin hasn’t been here?”

  “A few,” she said, smiling. “Edward keeps you very busy.”

  “How many times?”

  She stopped smiling. “More than a few. Many, many times.”

  “Amelia,” I said slowly,“the year is 2003 and—”

  Her laugh cut me off. “How silly you are. The world will end in the year 2000.”

  “People in our time thought that too, but…” I didn’t want to get off the subject. “My name is Lincoln…Frazier, and I’m from the twenty-first century and I’m a descendant of the child you and Martin had.”

  She started to fade; the information was too much for her to comprehend.

  “Go ahead and fade away,” I said, “but it could easily be another three hundred years before another of Martin’s descendants shows up.”

  She came back into view, but she pulled her hands from mine. I could see she wanted me to move from the lover’s position I was in, so I got up and sat by her on the bench.

  “Who are you?” she asked.

  I wanted my head back on her lap and I wanted her to look at me with the deep love she had for Martin. I reached out to touch her but she pulled away.

  “Why are you here?” she asked.

  “To give you peace. At least I think that’s why I’m here with you. And to get your help, but I don’