Back to You, page 10
“Hiram gave it to me,” he said gruffly.
“Hiram? Your friend?”
“Aye.”
“Well, I hope it wasn’t too much. Was it?”
“Don’t—”
“I have some saved from last night.”
I sat up quickly, ready to go to the trunk that held my clothes, but he grabbed my arm. Goosebumps broke out all over my body.
“Let it go, lass.”
“I just don’t want you to need it, is all.” My eyes were trained on his hand and how it wrapped around my entire forearm.
“Sorry,” he mumbled and let go of me hastily. “I’ll take up a few extra jobs. And Mikey can pull in some more weight—”
“Mikey?”
“Me brother.”
I shook my head, not wanting to be indebted to another man. “I’ll make it up to you,” I promised.
“There’s no arguing with ye is there?” He sighed. “Sleep now, a ghaiscíoch bhig. We’ll talk about it in the morning.”
Feeling a little better, I lay down. With the relief, exhaustion weighed down on me, and my eyes drooped.
“What does that mean?” I mumbled, but enough time passed that I knew he wouldn’t respond. “Goodnight, Thomas O’Connor.”
When I finally succumbed to sleep, I felt a soft brush against the back of my hand.
“Oíche mhaith, little warrior.”
Chapter nine
Emilia
I woke up on my side, my cheek resting on something hard, wondering where my favorite cozy pillow went. My hand roamed upward, trying to get comfortable, when I felt a faint twitch underneath it. I snuggled in, and adjusted my leg over something.
I turned my face inward and inhaled, smelling smoke and the faint scent of…of a man.
I lurched backward, gasping.
Thomas looked up at me, an inscrutable expression on his face, his eyes burning through me. My breathing hitched. My hair had to be a mess and I was almost positive I had drool on the side of my face, but he didn’t laugh.
“I’m sorry,” I mumbled. To my horror, his shirt had a drool spot on it. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to—” I waved my finger from him to me, trying to finish my sentence like an imbecile while I blushed all the way to my roots.
The heat in his eyes, and the memory of what occurred last night, had my skin tightening and warmth surging low into my belly. I panicked at my body’s response and tried to get out of the bed. My leg caught on the quilt and I tumbled backwards over the edge.
He grabbed my waist and pulled me forward before I even knew that I was falling. I toppled onto his chest as he fell back onto the bed. I looked up to find his green eyes studying me. In this position, I was well aware that my breasts were pressed against him, only separated by our thin clothes. I held my breath, too afraid to move and too embarrassed by our close contact.
He cupped my face, rubbing my blush with the pad of his thumb. “Ye sure are pretty when ye wake.”
My eyes widened, surprised by his remark. I let my face fall to his chest, more comfortable with the touch than having him read my expression.
The noises from the other night had fallen silent hours ago, but I knew he must have wished to spend the night with another woman. We were in a whorehouse for God’s sake, and I didn’t do anything for him.
“What was that?” he asked after I mumbled into his chest.
I placed my chin on his chest and stared at the buttons of his shirt. “I said you’re a liar.”
He brushed my hair back from my face, sending another flood of warmth to my belly and tingles up and down my limbs.
“Neamh cabhrú liom.”
I never could understand Irish, but the way it sounded coming out of his mouth had my toes curling. “What does that mean?”
“Heaven help me.” He smiled.
My glare made him laugh, which in turn jiggled my head up and down. I sat up, ignoring my secret desire to lie there with him all day.
“Biddy would probably like her room back,” I said, rummaging through the trunk for my clothes.
“Aye?” he said a little distractedly. He placed his hands behind his head as he watched me.
Biddy’s room was one of the few with a window, and the early, golden sun that shone through the dirty glass illuminated my figure beneath my shift. I dove into the shadows, though the damage was already done.
“Well, now I can describe ye to the lads,” he said.
I bit my lip as my heart threatened to break through my chest, cursing myself for wondering if he liked what he saw. Without consent, my eyes drooped down and found that he did.
“You wouldn’t.” The words came out throaty instead of with the anger I intended. The guy in the pub didn’t bring up these desires. That I was sure of.
“Nay.” His eyes flashed as he caught me looking. I didn’t let myself feel ashamed, not when he stared at me without guilt. His expression changed, closing off as he looked away first. He sat up and placed his head into his hands. “I suppose not.”
I wondered about his almost instantaneous mood change, but used the time to put on as many of my clothes as I could before he looked up. I shouldn’t have worried because he didn’t glance at me once while I dressed. He just put his shoes on and sat in the chair, looking into the fire that died back down to embers.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, adjusting my green dress.
“Hmm?”
I repeated myself and stood in front of him. He finally glanced up, taking in my conservative dress.
“Ah, now that suits ye,” he admitted, appraising me from my hair—it had lost its curls from the night before, so I had pinned it up into a simple bun—down to my shoes.
“That boring, huh?” I asked, screwing up my face self-consciously.
Thomas opened his mouth and shut it quickly. “Come.” He stood and opened the door for me.
“Where are we going?”
“Well, I’d grab a bite of food, but with me coin gone—”
“I can buy it!” I said a little too enthusiastically, happy that I could help. I began to dig into the pocket of my dress until he placed his hand on my arm to stop me, not meeting my gaze.
“If it’d make ye feel better.” He sighed. “I’d like to take ye somewhere else though. We can talk about your friend there.”
I smiled, happy that I’d finally be searching for Shay. I felt like I’d wasted too much time at Nora’s, and if it wasn’t for finding Thomas, I’d have never forgiven myself for not searching for Shay on my own.
We made our way downstairs, both seeking the privy out back after not going all night. I was mortified to even think about using the bedpan in front of him, and suspected he didn’t use it to give me the privacy I clearly desired.
Most of the ladies were still sleeping, leaving the bar empty except for a couple of men eating and drinking at the counter, and the barman I now knew as Henry Walsh. I looked around, feeling odd that I would leave without saying goodbye to at least Biddy.
“Ye can come back later on, if ye’re that worried,” Thomas grumbled. His stiff shoulders and impatient remarks confused me. Had I imagined his crooked smiles and quick wit? It was as if he was an entirely different man.
“Ye leaving, Miss Emilia?” Henry asked while wiping down the bar. He was a good-looking man, maybe in his forties. From what I could tell, he watched out for the girls as a father would.
“I am,” I smiled. We talked for a while the first day I met him, and I’d told him my plans to find my friend.
“Well, good luck to ye. Watch yourself out there. Though ye should be in good hands.” He tipped his hat to Thomas, who nodded in return.
We said our goodbyes, and I tried not to think about how well Thomas knew him. And how frequently Thomas must have gone to Nora’s.
Thomas held the door open for me, revealing a gloriously bright sky. I welcomed the cool air after being in the stuffy building all night. A horse trotted by, pulling a wagon of supplies somewhere, its driver tipping his hat to both of us. I wasn’t used to all the greetings, but found I liked the manners of the time.
“Ye shouldn’t have been walking the streets alone,” he snapped, taking off at a quick pace that had me jogging to catch up. “Why were ye even goin’ down that way by yourself?” he said as we passed the alley I was attacked in. The inflection in his tone was like a slap in the face.
“I thought I saw someone I knew,” I mumbled.
He raised a brow. “Your friend?”
“Just someone from my past,” I mumbled, hoping he’d drop it. “Clearly I was wrong.”
He nodded, letting it go. Thomas scared me when he was mad, and the way that he was acting now left me uncomfortable. Yet his actions of repeatedly saving me outweighed my fear, and I knew deep down that he was safer than any other stranger I would find. Besides, wasn’t he one of my family’s ancestors? Granted, I didn’t know much about him other than opening the pub with his brother. There was that letter I’d written to myself. If you could count that. A part of me still didn’t believe I wrote it, or I would write it in the future…from the past? I shook my head, unable to wrap my mind around the intricacies of time.
What I actually accomplished so quickly had me reeling, and I tripped over the uneven cobblestones. A rough hand jerked me upward, saving me from a mouth full of rocks.
“Careful,” he mumbled, steadying me. We locked eyes, and I swore concern overwrought his features as if I caught him with his guard down.
“How did you know I needed help?” I asked. “In the alley I mean.” I tried to think about anything other than his personal life and whether or not he had a girl.
A line creased between his eyes, as if he was angry that I asked the question. “Just passin’ by and heard a scuffle,” he snapped with an annoyance I didn’t understand.
“If you weren’t there…” My throat tightened and I couldn’t finish my sentence. I was so close to being raped. Nothing like that ever happened to me, and if Thomas didn’t show up…
“What’s this?” he said, grabbing my arm and pulling me to a stop.
I shook my head, looking away from him so he didn’t see my tears.
“Look here,” he started, shifting his feet. He glanced around to see if anyone was watching, but the street was nearly empty. “A lass like ye should know better than to walk by yourself in these parts.”
“Like me?” I hissed, aggravated that he was scolding me for almost getting raped.
“Ye know,” he said. “Beautiful.” I looked up at him, startled. That was not what I was expecting, and it made butterflies erupt in my stomach. “It’s a terrible trait to have here. So just…be careful.”
“Okay.” I suddenly had the odd feeling that I wanted to protect myself, not only for me but for him as well.
Again, I wondered if he had a woman and tried to think about anything else.
He nodded as if the matter was decided and turned on his heel. Thomas was so abrupt and conflicting that I didn’t know what to think. He acted like he both cared and was angry in one breath.
In our silence, I took the sights and sounds of the nineteenth century. It was odd to not hear cars, planes, and even music from an apartment drifting down the street. Modern technology in all its forms vanished, and had been replaced by the clip of horses’ hooves, neighbors and business owners calling out to each other in greeting, the bang of pots and pans in preparation of meals, the slop of buckets thrown into the gutters with only God knew what in them. I shivered; my throat thick with repulsion at the contents.
Crates and barrels lined the streets, filled with different foods and products, depending on which store they were in front of. It was common to see vendors sitting outside of the buildings, their clothes as ragged and worn as the dwellings around them. It was amazing that some of the structures still stood as their walls crumbled, their windows shattered. It was clear we were in the poorer part of Boston, yet the farther we walked, the area improved—the buildings were a little nicer, it was a bit cleaner, and the people were dressed finer.
We walked a few blocks when an odd sense of familiarity overwhelmed me. Was that Faneuil Hall? I was used to its brick exterior, not this smooth surface adorned with classic pilasters around each floor. And Quincy Market! The strips of shops were definitely cruder, what with their dirty awnings, haphazard displays of food, animals, vendors, and merchants. I had never seen so many wagons, horses and people all in one place, especially one that was selling food.
I stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, not caring that a woman told me to watch where I was going after I bumped into her. We were near enough to the harbor that I could smell the sea. All the hair stood up on my body and I turned in a complete circle, taking in everything as I compared the changes from the twenty-first century.
I was clutching my hands to my chest, tears in my eyes when I finally heard Thomas’s voice.
“What?” I asked, too overwhelmed to pay attention to him.
“I asked if something was wrong with ye.”
“No,” I answered, snapping back to reality as if in a trance. “I’m sorry, I just realized I’ve been here before, that’s all.”
He looked at me like I lost mind.
“It’s been a while,” I tried to explain. “It was just a feeling, I guess.”
Thomas stood there, hands in his pockets, searching my face. I knew he must have questions and maybe he didn’t trust me, but he just shook his head and told me to follow him.
Another minute and we walked right up to the marketplace; people buzzing around it like bees to a bouquet. Weaving through the crowd, Thomas grabbed my hand, sending a jolt up my arm. With his big frame in front of me I couldn’t see where we were headed, but I was able to get through without being jostled too much.
We came to the front of one of the buildings when he stopped and dropped my hand.
I took a good look at the building, and my eyes widened in recognition. I looked both ways to make sure it was the right spot. “Is that Durgin Park?” Even though it was a little rough around the edges in its earlier days, it was clearly the same structure. I’d eaten there a few times when my family and I went downtown. It closed in 2019, but here it was, without its name, though I vaguely remembered that the owner named it after two of his partners died later in the nineteenth century. I couldn’t remember the exact date.
Thomas looked at me quizzically. “Aye, they own it. Do ye know them?”
My eyes about bugged out of my head when I realized the two men it was named after might be inside. “They’re alive?” I whispered.
His hat threw his face in shade as he looked down at me, but it didn’t hide his puzzled expression. “Ye’re acting strange, lass.”
“Sorry.” I tried to smile, back peddling. “Someone was telling me about it at Nora’s.”
Thomas looked like he didn’t believe me, but let it go. We went inside, squeezing into a couple of seats at a long table, Thomas across from me.
A man took our order, and placed beer in front of us while we waited. I used the time to look at my surroundings, my system shot with what I was experiencing. It wasn’t until I ate half of my clam chowder and a part of our cornbread that the men sitting next to us interrupted, speaking loudly and hitting fists on the table.
“You didn’t hear?” the man next to Thomas asked, shocked. “They fired on Sumter!”
With those two words, the blood drained from my face and hardened into a rock in my stomach.
“What do ye think it’ll mean?” Thomas asked him.
“War,” I mumbled. It wasn’t supposed to happen yet. How could we have had such horrible timing? Not only traveling back in time, but to a Godforsaken war to boot.
“We’ll scare those rebels into submission in no time,” the man said. Thomas was radiating exhilaration at the thought. I could see it in the way his eyes flared to life.
But they didn’t know what I knew. They didn’t know how long it’d last, how many battles that would need to be fought, nor how many men had to die before it ended. And in the middle of it all were two women who had no idea how to even survive the different timeline, one of which was an African-American amidst severe racial discrimination.
The man went on excitedly, “There was a southern ship in the harbor today bearing the Rebels flag.” He shook his head in disgust. “Some demanded it be replaced with the Stars and Stripes. A friend of mine said one of ours took the flag and shredded the bloody thing.” He smirked.
I sat back, feeling the pit in my stomach grow heavier.
Thomas eyed me, pushing his plate away. “Are ye feeling all right, lass?”
“No,” I admitted. “I can’t deal with this. I need to find my friend.”
“Aye, I’m sure she’ll be fine.”
“She won’t!” I slammed my hands on the table.
The man looked uncomfortably between us and turned to talk to someone else. Thomas sat back, examining me.
“She’s black,” I said. “My friend is black and all you people care about is war! They’ll—”
“Hush, lass.” Thomas leaned forward, worry creasing between his eyes. “Why didn’t ye say it before?”
“I didn’t know how,” I hissed, heart pounding in worry. “And now—”
“It’s just news, don’t fret. I’m sure—”
“It’s not. You don’t understand, and I can’t make you, but this is going to be a long, bloody war. I just know it is, don’t ask me how—” I glared at him when he opened his mouth to interrupt me “—and my friend is out there when all this shit hits the fan. I need to find her now, and then we need to go.”
“Go?” he asked, raising his brow. “Where d’ye plan to go? And how would ye know all this? Ye a spy? A gypsy like they said?” He leaned forward, green eyes flaming now. “Ye telling me ye can see the future, gypsy?”
“Don’t call me tha—”
He grabbed my forearms so tightly I flinched. I tried to pull away but he pinned them to the table, holding me in place. “Answer me now,” he growled.
