Page 6 of Out of Time (Undaunted Courage #3)

THREE

NATALIE WAS LATE.

As the clock on the study wall inched toward nine ten on Thursday morning, Cara rose from her seat, crossed to the doorway, and peeked down the hall.

No sign of life.

Could the older woman have overslept?

Maybe ... but she’d been punctual, down to the minute, for their journal session and shared dinner yesterday.

Would a knock on the door be too pushy?

Hard to tell. Natalie had been open about many things, but it was clear she valued and guarded her privacy and independence.

Yet in light of what had happened Tuesday, investigating her tardiness seemed prudent.

Taking a deep breath, Cara walked down the hall, stopped in front of the master suite, and gave a soft knock on the door. “Natalie? Are you all right?”

No response.

Pulse picking up, she knocked harder. “Natalie? Do you need any help?”

Muffled sounds came from inside the room, but they were impossible to identify.

“Natalie, I’m opening the door.” Without waiting for a reply, Cara twisted the knob and peeked in.

The older woman was sitting on the edge of her bed, a robe thrown over her shoulders, the white hair she wore in a neat chignon mussed from sleep.

“Cara?” Natalie peered toward her, though the woman had her glasses on and the light in the room was more than sufficient to offer a clear view.

“Yes.”

“What time is it?”

“About nine fifteen.”

She exhaled. “I knew I was running late by the brightness in the room. I’m sorry to keep you waiting.”

“No worries. Did you oversleep?”

“Yes. And that’s most unusual. I got up at once when I awakened, but I felt lightheaded and decided to sit here until I was steadier. The episode wasn’t as bad as Tuesday’s, but it’s taking longer than I expected to go away.”

Two dizzy spells within two days?

That was unsettling.

“Does this happen often, Natalie?”

“Never before this week. It’s very annoying.”

And perhaps a sign of something more serious afoot health-wise.

“Do you think it would be wise to have your doctor check you out?”

“No. I’m feeling more clear-headed and clear-eyed by the minute.

” She glanced at an empty wine glass on her nightstand.

“I wonder if that could be the culprit. I learned to appreciate wine while I lived in Paris, and I often indulge in a small glass before I nap or go to bed for the night. I finished a bottle last night, as a matter of fact. It’s quite relaxing to sip a fine vintage.

” She shook her head. “I’ve never had any side effects in the past, but what else could be causing the issue? ”

A medical problem of some sort? One that might become serious if left untreated? Perhaps it was even a result of her fall. As the sheriff had pointed out, injuries didn’t always manifest themselves immediately at Natalie’s age.

“I don’t know, but would it hurt to have your doctor weigh in? Falls can be dangerous, and I’d hate for that to happen again. You were lucky on Tuesday.”

The older woman sighed. “Steven told me that too during our phone chat Tuesday night. The poor boy is forever driving down from St. Louis to keep tabs on me. A visit to the doctor might help put his mind at ease. And I wouldn’t want anything to stand in the way of the work we have to do, either.

” She leaned over and picked up her phone from the nightstand.

“I’ll call the office and see if they can squeeze me in.

Then I’ll get dressed and meet you in the study. ”

“Would you, uh, like me to help you?”

Natalie dismissed the offer with a wave. “Thank you, but I’m perfectly capable of dressing myself. The dizziness has passed, and I feel fine.”

“Can I at least fix you breakfast?”

“I’m not in the habit of eating much early in the day, but if you’d like to brew me a cup of English breakfast tea and warm up a scone, that will help us get started on our work faster. You’ll find everything on the counter. There’s jam for the scone in the fridge.”

“I’ll be happy to do that.” Cara retraced her steps to the door but paused on the threshold. “You know, we could defer our session until later today. Or pick up again tomorrow, if you’d prefer.”

“This morning is fine. I’ll meet you in fifteen minutes.” Natalie shooed her out.

Bowing to her hostess’s wishes, she left the room and headed for the kitchen.

Everything was where Natalie had said it would be, and when the older woman joined her in the study, Cara had a tray waiting, a rose she’d clipped from a bush in back beside the plate.

“Lovely touch.” Natalie fingered the petals as she took her seat across the small table they’d decided to use for their sessions. “Thank you.”

“It was my pleasure. Did you reach the doctor?”

“Yes. They’re going to fit me in at two o’clock.”

“Would you like me to drive you into town?”

Brow puckered, Natalie took a sip of tea. “It’s not far, and I drove that route to work for many years. I still drive it often. But the road is a bit winding. And in light of these dizzy spells...”

“Let me take you. I wouldn’t mind strolling around for half an hour while you’re in the doctor’s office. It will give me a chance to get familiar with the town.”

“If you’re certain you don’t mind, I’d appreciate it.” Natalie spread jam on her scone, wiped her fingers on the napkin, and opened the first journal to the page where they’d stopped yesterday. “I’ll eat while I translate. Ready?”

Cara positioned her fingers on the keys of her laptop. “All set.”

For the next hour, they worked through several pages of the journal.

It was a painstaking process, with Natalie often resorting to a magnifying glass as she tried to decipher certain faded words.

For the most part, however, she was able to make sense of the narrative that had been written by sixteen-year-old Marie Boyer in 1924.

After a particularly thorny passage, Natalie looked over at her. “Are you finding this helpful?”

“Very.” Cara finished typing the last phrase. “Marie was on the front lines when big changes began to happen here, and the first-person glimpses she offers are invaluable.”

“That era was a pivotal time. Papa often talked about how the highway that was constructed between Old Mines and St. Louis in the 1920s brought the outside world to this very isolated community and changed everything. And of course, after mining dried up, many residents ventured farther afield to find work too. It’s interesting to hear the reaction of someone who lived through that. ”

“How old was she when she died?”

“Twenty-seven. My father would have been fifteen. Four years later, he and his older brother enlisted and went to war.” She shook her head.

“I can’t imagine Papa carrying a gun. He was such a gentle soul.

But the one positive to come out of his experience was that he met my mother at a USO in St. Louis. ”

“Did he bring her back here?”

“No. She died very young of the flu. Not long after that, he built this house and moved back with me.”

“How old were you?”

“Two.”

“So you were living here when you got polio?”

“Yes, but that’s a tale for another day.” Natalie tapped the journal in front of her. “Back to Marie’s story.”

Tempted as Cara was to ask more questions about Natalie’s experience growing up on this remote estate, pushing would be a mistake. If the woman wanted to reveal more, she would.

Cara switched gears. “So far Marie hasn’t offered us any hints about the mystery you referenced.”

“I expect those will come closer to the end. The journals continued until she died. We may begin to pick up clues as we get farther along.”

Natalie went back to translating, and Cara resumed typing.

The insights Marie was providing into the Old Mines culture would form an excellent basis for her research project.

But almost as fascinating?

The history of the woman doing the transcribing, along with the intrigue that might lay in the pages yet to come in the journals.

And wouldn’t it be amazing if in the process of doing this project, she and Natalie also uncovered the solution to a century-old mystery?

WAS THAT CARA TUCKER?

Brad jolted to a stop as he pushed through the door of the courthouse into the humid air.

Shading his eyes, he squinted toward the dark-haired woman who was strolling down the sidewalk on the other side of the street.

Yeah. It was her.

At the sudden uptick in his pulse, he frowned.

Was that little jolt ... attraction?

No way.

Elizabeth had been the only woman for him.

His once-in-a-lifetime love. The historical anthropologist who’d taken up residence at Natalie Boyer’s place had just happened to come into his life at the wrong time.

The sad anniversary looming in the immediate future, which had caused all his grief and loneliness to bubble close to the surface, had also left him vulnerable—and yearning for things he could never have again.

Things he didn’t deserve to have again.

A wave of pain crashed over him, leaving futile longing in its wake.

And putting himself in close proximity to a woman who made him wish for the impossible was foolish.

He had to get out of here.

But as he started to turn away, Cara angled his direction.

She froze the instant she spotted him, then slowly lifted a hand in greeting.

He hesitated.

The wisest plan was to wave back and walk away.

Instead, his feet seemed to have a mind of their own.

Without any conscious decision to do so, he found himself walking toward the woman who’d been on his mind far too often over the past two days.

She remained where she was, her eyes hidden behind sunglasses, watching him approach.

“Afternoon.” He slipped on his own shades as he stopped beside her. “I didn’t expect to run into you again this soon, but I’m glad I did. How’s Ms. Boyer?”

“She’s why we’re in town. She had another dizzy spell this morning, and I convinced her to pay a visit to her doctor.”

“I’m sorry to hear she’s still having issues.”