Page 8 of Out of Time (Undaunted Courage #3)

FOUR

“TO USE A SHOWBIZ TERM, I believe that’s a wrap for this week.” Natalie closed Marie’s journal. “I’d say our work is off to an excellent start.”

“I agree.” Cara saved the Word document of Natalie’s translation and closed her laptop. “I’m glad your doctor didn’t find anything alarming yesterday and gave you full approval to carry on with your usual schedule.”

“That makes two of us.” Natalie folded her hands on top of the first volume in the set of journals. “When are you going back to Cape for the weekend?”

“Early afternoon. I want to spend an hour or two in the cottage first with one of the books I borrowed from your father’s collection. This is a treasure trove.” She swept a hand over the shelves that lined the walls of the study.

“I know. Paul’s like a kid in a candy store whenever I let him pick a book to borrow for a week. I believe he knows more about Old Mines history than any other living soul.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised. He was very helpful to me with the preliminary research I did for my fellowship application.”

“He’s a dear man. I’m fortunate to count him as a friend.

He’s coming by Sunday, as a matter of fact.

I expect he’ll be gone before you get back, but I may have an opportunity to introduce you to my worrywart cousin.

I tried to talk Steven out of driving down and spending his whole weekend with me, but he insisted he wanted to see for himself that I’m all right. You’d enjoy meeting him.”

“You’re lucky to have such a devoted relative.” Cara slid her laptop into its case.

“I am indeed. Any exciting weekend plans on your schedule?”

She gave Natalie a wry grin. “Not unless bill paying, condo cleaning, and a quick stop at my campus office to meet with a graduate student I’m mentoring qualify as exciting.”

“Remember, all work and no play...”

“I know. I’ll squeeze in some fun too. My brother and sister are coming down from St. Louis for brunch on Sunday for our monthly get-together, and that’s always enjoyable.”

“You’re fortunate to have siblings. Growing up in this isolated place was often quite lonely.”

“Didn’t you attend the local school?”

“Not for long. Polio delayed my enrollment, and once I did go, I was bullied because I was older than all the other children in my grade and I limped. Plus, as you know from your research, by then Paw Paw French had become associated with poverty and backwardness, so it was forbidden on school property. My father didn’t take kindly to that, or to the bullying.

He pulled me out, homeschooled me, and taught me the language. It was all we spoke around the house.”

“No wonder you’re proficient at it.”

“I’m a bit rusty now, but it’s coming back as we work on the journals.” She looked toward the door as Lydia opened it and peeked in. “Are we keeping you from cleaning in here?”

“I can do it later.”

“No need to delay. We’re finished for the day and were just chatting.

” Natalie stood, bracing herself for a moment on the edge of the table.

Then she carried the journal over to the large desk and slid it into a drawer with its companions.

“You’ll have the room to yourself until I come back here to work after my nap. ”

“I’ll be done by then.” Lydia retreated.

As Natalie started toward the door, Cara stood and followed behind.

What sort of work did Natalie do in here, sequestered away, each day? Though she’d referred to it in passing on several occasions, she’d never offered any details.

Tempted as Cara was to ask a few questions, respecting boundaries was important. What her benefactor did in the hours outside their project was none of her business.

But it was curious nonetheless—and one more mystery that would perhaps be solved before her sojourn here ended.

She and Natalie parted in the hall, and Cara continued through the kitchen, out the back door, and down the path toward the cottage, scanning the sky as she walked.

The rain that had accompanied yesterday’s storm had passed, but the skies remained leaden gray, suggesting another storm was imminent. While the parched earth could use the moisture, driving all the way to Cape in a downpour wouldn’t be—

She halted as the cottage came into sight around the curve in the path.

Had something just darted into the forest at the back corner? A deer, perhaps?

That was possible. They were abundant in the area.

Yet somehow that explanation didn’t feel right.

She continued forward slowly, peering into the woods.

At first, only leaves registered. But at a sudden glint, she homed in on the source.

Halted again.

A shaggy-haired man of indeterminate age stood in the shadows, an ax in his hand.

Her heart stuttered, and she took an involuntary step back.

In the next instant, the man melted into the woods and disappeared.

She, on the other hand, remained frozen in place.

Could that be Micah, the antisocial groundskeeper Natalie had mentioned?

It must be. Who else would be wandering about the premises with an ax?

A shiver rippled through her despite the warmth in the air, and she rubbed her upper arms.

What was his story? Why did he avoid people?

Could he even be ... dangerous?

No.

Natalie was too levelheaded to keep anyone of dubious character on the premises.

Wasn’t she?

Wiping her palms down her capris, Cara continued toward the cottage, keeping tabs on her surroundings.

Though the man had disappeared, she didn’t linger at the door. She let herself in and slid the bolt into place behind her.

Another mystery to add to the growing list on this isolated property.

But this was one she’d solve sooner rather than later. Come Monday morning, when she and Natalie sat down to begin work for the week, she was going to straight out ask about the man who’d been hovering in the shadows by the cottage.

Because receptive as she was to this off-the-beaten-track adventure and its unexpectedly intriguing nuances, she wasn’t in the market for hazardous duty.

“I WONDERED WHERE YOU WERE.”

As his wife slipped out the back door and joined him on the porch, Paul closed the book he was reading. “I decided to take advantage of the cooler weather after the rain this morning.”

“It did take the edge off the heat.” Becky sat in the wicker chair beside him and held out a frosty glass. “Fresh-squeezed lemonade. Can I tempt you?”

He smiled. “Always.”

The dimple he loved appeared in her cheek. “You’re a sweet talker, Paul Coleman. Are you certain you don’t have a touch of blarney somewhere in your DNA?”

“I might—on my father’s side. But thanks to the French heritage I have from my mother, I know how to recognize—and appreciate—a pretty woman.”

She reached for his hand. Gave it a squeeze. “I’m glad you still see me that way after all these years.”

“Beauty, like a fine wine, only becomes better with time.”

“Thank you.” She lifted her glass toward him, leaned back in her chair, and motioned toward the volume on his lap. “Another book Natalie loaned you?”

“Yes. Due back tomorrow. I was hoping to finish it this afternoon.”

“She has quite a collection.” Becky sipped her lemonade. “I imagine the professor who’s visiting for the semester is in seventh heaven.”

“I would be, in her shoes.”

“You think Natalie will donate the journals to the historical society after they finish their project?”

“I hope so ... if they finish. Sounds like it’s slow going.”

“I’m not surprised. Speaking Paw Paw is rare enough these days. I can’t imagine trying to decipher the written word. The girl who wrote those journals had to be making it up as she went along.”

“That’s why the journals and the translation are so valuable.” And dangerous.

He took a long swallow of his lemonade.

Becky didn’t need to worry about that, though. Not yet. Not while he was still hopeful he could avert a crisis.

All he had to do was get the journals into his hands before Natalie and the professor got too close to the end. And given their slow pace, he should have a window to get that done.

Natalie’s dizzy spells were also working to his advantage. Every delay and distraction had the potential to slow down the translation process.

“I’m sure Natalie will follow through on her promise to donate them.” Becky swirled the ice in her glass. “It was her father’s wish, and from what I’ve heard about her, she always honors her promises.”

“That’s true.”

But the donation would have happened by now if that professor hadn’t come along and messed up all the groundwork he’d begun laying months ago. Natalie had been on the verge of letting him put the volumes in a climate-controlled environment until she was ready to translate them.

Then Cara Tucker had entered the picture.

The best he could do at this point was convince Natalie to let him store the later journals until she and the professor were ready for them. Hopefully, they never would be if the translation project hit enough snags.

And down the road, no one who would care about any secrets they held. Secrets he wouldn’t care about under normal circumstances. What was past was past ... except in certain realms, where the past could be exploited and used against an opponent.

It was a dirty way to play, but it was all part of the game these days.

“What time did Dan say he was going to call?”

At Becky’s question, he refocused. “About four if he can manage it. He’s got another dinner to attend tonight, and he expected it to run too late for him to call afterward. At this rate, our grandchildren are going to forget what their father looks like.”

“I know. He’s been meeting himself coming and going lately.”

“Goes with the territory. It’s in his genes.”

“It wasn’t in yours. Not that you don’t work hard, but you had different aspirations.”

“That particular gene must have skipped a generation.”

“Can I say I’m glad?”

“Yes. And I am too.” Especially now. “But if that’s what Dan wants, we have to help and support him.”

“I know. Including that interview he wants us to do with the St. Louis paper.” Becky wrinkled her nose.