Jesus, what had she thought when she saw them? She must have been shocked . ..
Furious?
Ryan tossed down the black-and-white photographs hastily. She'd drawn all the wrong conclusions, that much was certain. She hadn't left him because she'd realized their values were too different. She'd left him because she found those pictures. God only knew how she'd rationalized their existence.
He spun around, suddenly galvanized into action. If Hope had chosen to leave because she saw the impossibility of their being together, that was one thing. But it was another thing altogether for her to have fled last night because she'd been disillusioned by those photographs.
Disillusioned by him.
He had to go back, Ryan thought frantically as he opened the wardrobe, looking for viable clothing to wear for the time period. If Hope had done it, surely he could. The thought of her existing back in her world and believing that he'd tricked her into having sex so they could be photographed was just too god-awful. He searched for something to wear, his impatience and frustration mounting.
The stark white of the dress shirt he'd worn last night with his tux caught his eye. He lunged for it but before he could get it on a buzzing noise reached his ears. He paused, at first not recognizing the sound as the doorbell since he'd heard it only a few times when food was being delivered in the evenings.
Who could be ringing it at six a.m. on a rainy, cold Sunday morning?
It didn't matter. He needed to get going, he thought irritably as he tossed on the white shirt. He needed to go back so he could explain to Hope—
The buzzing continued in an insistent manner. Whoever was out there wasn't going to be ignored, he realized.
He swung open the front door a few seconds later. His irritation quickly segued to incredulity.
"Warren?" he greeted Alistair Franklin's driver. Warren stood on the wet front steps as raindrops fell across his round features.
"Morning, Ryan. I brought Alistair over. He was insistent upon seeing you this morning.
Wouldn't let me talk him into waiting until a decent hour no matter what I said," the stocky driver explained with a rueful grin. He hitched his thumb out to Prairie Avenue. A black Mercedes sedan was parked at the curb. " 'Fraid you'll have to go out to the car to see him. Since his stroke he has to use a wheelchair and it might be kind of hard to get him up these stairs—"
"No, that's fine. I'll go out," Ryan interrupted distractedly, his eyes still on the black sedan. Something about his elderly friend's strange visit on the cold, rainy dawn felt eerily familiar— right somehow, like Alistair and he had scheduled the appointment, long ago and Ryan had forgotten.
"Just let me grab a jacket and I'll be right out to see him, Warren,"
***
Jacob Stillwater entered the brilliantly lit ballroom, his eyes immediately finding his daughter where she stood by the enormous fireplace. He looked very distinguished and handsome in his formal attire as he came toward her, smiling. Hope's return smile never faltered despite the fact that it broke her heart to see the slight drag in his left leg. Her father maneuvered extremely well using the cane Dr. Walkerton had left for him, however. Hope consoled herself that very soon her father's limp would be hardly noticeable to those unfamiliar with his recent illness.
The fact that he'd experienced a stroke while she'd been gone from his side would likely haunt her until her dying day. Still, she found strength in knowing for a fact that her father would live and prosper for many years to come.
"Happy birthday, Father." She gave him a kiss on the cheek when he reached her. "I'm so sorry we couldn't celebrate it with the party I'd planned. But with only you, Mary and Mrs. Abernathy knowing I'm here—"
"Oh, posh. I'd rather just have a nice dinner here with you. I'm too old for a birthday ball, anyway. Certainly can't dance around on this old clunker," he said matter-of-factly, tapping his left thigh. He offered her his arm and they slowly made their way over to the table Mrs. Abernathy had meticulously laid for their supper.
Hope had requested that her
father's dinner be served in the ballroom for several reasons.
First of all, the huge room usually stood empty and unused, making it unlikely that servants would disturb them. This was important since only Mary, Mrs. Abernathy and Jacob knew of her return to 1807 Prairie Avenue. That had been something she and her father had decided on the first evening she came back to her own time.
The second reason was because the grand piano was in the ballroom. She'd been working for several months now on a special composition for her father and she looked forward to playing it for him on a night that was poignantly special to both of them for more reasons than it merely being her father's birthday. Before they could take their seats, Jacob spoke.
"Show me again, dear, how they dance in the year 2008," Jacob said with a glimmer of amusement in his black eyes.
Hope laughed, the sound echoing off the walls. She obligingly walked several feet into the enormous ballroom while her father sat down at the table. She closed her eyes, perfectly imagining Gail and Ramiro moving in tandem to the unusual, exciting music.
She positioned her hands, picturing herself touching Ryan's broad shoulder while his big hand spread at the back of her waist. She began to softly hum a tune while she swayed to the music, occasionally inserting remembered lyrics.
Fly me to the moon and let me play among the stars, da da da ta da, ta da on Jupiter and Mars . . .
The train of her blue satin gown and her petticoats swished behind her as she circled the ballroom floor in her solitary dance. She opened her eyes after several moments and looked over at her father, laughter curving her lips. He shook his gray head in amazed satisfaction as she came over to the table.