Chapter Nine

Amanda watched as Nathan drew himself up to his full height. “I am offended by your speech, Mr. Spivey, especially in front of a woman. And may I remind you that Mrs. Carpenter and I slept in separate rooms, therefore, any insinuation of inappropriate behavior is inaccurate.”

Even if Mr. Spivey wasn’t intimidated, Amanda was. She could have almost laughed at the “performed shameful acts” line if the whole thing didn’t feel so distasteful. Oh, why hadn’t she kept her mouth shut?

Mr. Spivey’s face took on a mulish look. “I apologize, Mrs. Carpenter,” he said. “Yes, I do remember Mrs. Spivey mentioned you had taken two rooms.”

Nathan nodded from somewhere far above Mr. Spivey’s head. It was as if he’d grown five inches.

“However, since you feel that you cannot believe that Mrs. Carpenter and I are married, perhaps it is better if we vacate your hotel. I do thank you and Mrs. Spivey for your assistance in our time of need last night and this morning. I would like to send this telegram, and settle my bill for the telegrams with you. We will then proceed to the hotel, collect our things, pay the account and move on.”

Amanda stared straight ahead, afraid to look at Mr. Spivey for fear she would look as guilty as she felt. The irony of fussing about lying only to be caught in a lie was not lost on her.

“Now, now, that won’t be necessary,” Mr. Spivey said. “I don’t want to bring the missus in on this. The less who know of our discussion here, the better. Mrs. Carpenter, if you say that you and Mr. Carpenter are married, that will be good enough for me. After all, it was you I heard talking.”

Before Amanda could nod, Nathan broke in.

“No,” Nathan said in a stern voice. “You will not question my wife, Mr. Spivey. I have told you all you need to know. Do you wish us to relocate? There are other hotels.”

“No, no,” Mr. Spivey said. “No need to do that. We’ll just act as if nothing has occurred.”

“Nothing has occurred, Mr. Spivey. Thank you. My dear, will you please wait outside for me? I won’t be a moment.”

Amanda hesitated. Nathan wasn’t going to hit the older man, was he? He certainly looked angry enough to.

“I’ll be right outside,” Amanda murmured. “Right outside.”

Nathan turned to her. “Thank you, dear. Don’t worry.”

Amanda crossed the lobby and stepped outside, turning her back on the door and feeling as if she were watching the front door of a bank while her accomplices robbed it. She heard no crashing, no pleas for help, no fists to face.

The door opened a few moments later, and Nathan stepped out. Amanda waited until the door was shut.

“What did you do? You didn’t smack him, did you?”

“I did not,” Nathan said with a grim face.

“Well, what were you so angry about? We were lying. I almost felt sorry for Mr. Spivey, although performing ‘shameful acts’ was a bit too much.”

“Amanda!” Nathan remonstrated. “Please.” He looked away from her.

“Oh, dear, sorry. So, what did you say?” Amanda thought she would have to remember that men in 1906 were probably not as uninhibited as they were in her time.

“I simply gave him the telegram, paid for both telegrams and wished him a good day. I sent you away because I wanted you out of the building and away from his prying eyes. This entire episode began because you were upset about having to lie. I did not want to you to feel even worse than you already did.”

“Well, I do feel guilty. Nothing is going to help that.”

“I understand, Amanda, truly I do. It is not inherently in my nature to lie, although I have become frightfully adept at it over the past year. However, if it is a matter of your reputation or a few simple lies that harm no one, then I choose to protect your reputation. In my world, a woman’s reputation means a great deal. She can be shunned by people of her own class if rumors abound, and I cannot bear that for you. I would do anything to prevent that from happening to you.”

Amanda eyed him. He seemed very passionate about the subject, but she had a hard time taking it seriously. Her reputation. She did worry about him though, and what would happen if his “people,”—family, friends, associates—caught him in such a monumental lie.

“After all, I have returned to my time because of your generosity. I owe you that.”

Amanda swallowed hard. “No, you don’t owe me anything. Remember, I didn’t really think the time travel thing was going to work. I was only trying to appease you and help you see that you were delusional.”

“Mr. Spivey assures me that he will not speak to Mrs. Spivey. I think he will adhere to his promise as he is not quite certain of our marital status. Would you like to continue on to the river or return to the hotel?”

Amanda shook her head. “I think maybe back to the hotel, to our separate rooms.” She almost smiled. “This whole thing just took the sternwheeling wind out of my sails,” she said.

Nathan chuckled. “Yes, I know how you feel. I do not like to abuse the kindness of Mr. and Mrs. Spivey.”

They returned to the hotel. Upon hearing them enter, Mrs. Spivey popped her head out of the kitchen, nodded and asked about their morning.

“Everything went very well, Mrs. Spivey, thank you very much. Mrs. Murphy was very generous.”

“Your things have been delivered to your rooms,” Mrs. Spivey said. “I had them sent to the separate rooms. I hope that was all right?” She glanced over her shoulder toward the kitchen as if in a hurry to return to her dinner.

Amanda shot Nathan a pointed look and rolled her eyes. Mrs. Spivey returned her distracted attention to them.

“Yes, yes, that is quite all right,” Nathan said in a choked voice. He cleared his throat. “A friend of mine, Mr. Robert Chamberlain, has arrived in town, and I invited him to dine with us. I hope that will be all right?”

“Oh! Does he need a room?” Mrs. Spivey asked. “I have rooms available.”

“Ahh, Mr. Chamberlain had booked at another hotel before I realized he had come to town. I imagine he is firmly ensconced there. He will not be saying long at any rate.”

Mrs. Spivey nodded, though the heave of her chest indicated a sigh.

“Oh, yes. The Empire Hotel, I imagine,” she said. “It’s very fancy.”

“Is it?” Nathan said. “I hadn’t noticed.”

Amanda smiled encouragingly at Mrs. Spivey.

“This is such a lovely hotel you have here, Mrs. Spivey.” She indicated the lobby with a sweep of her arm, ignoring the shabbiness of the furniture and décor.

“Thank you, Mrs. Carpenter. My father left it to me when he passed away several years ago. I’m trying to make a go of it.”

“We would be happy to recommend your hotel to anyone, Mrs. Spivey,” Nathan said. “I did not realize my friend was coming from Seattle, or I would have encouraged him to stay here. However, he is coming for dinner, and I am sure he will be glad that he did, given the wonderful breakfast you prepared for us this morning.”

Bright red color stained Mrs. Spivey’s thin cheeks.

“Thank you. I’m glad you enjoyed it.” She looked back toward the kitchen. “Well, I’d better get back to cooking. I’ve always cooked here, but running the hotel is another thing.”

She nodded and retreated toward the door at the back of the lobby.

Nathan and Amanda climbed the stairs, pausing outside of Amanda’s door.

“Poor thing,” Amanda murmured. “I feel sorry for her.”

Nathan nodded. “Yes, I don’t think she can compete fairly with the settings of the Empire Hotel, nor can I imagine how she can afford to rejuvenate this hotel without an influx of cash.”

“Unless Mr. Spivey is sitting on a pot of gold over there at the train station. He sort of reminds me of a leprechaun anyway.” Amanda grinned.

Nathan responded with a chuckle. “That he does.”

“Well, now that we’re here, I’m going to take a bath,” Amanda said. “I presume you’ll be available to do my hair?” Her smile broadened when Nathan blushed. “I’m just kidding,” she added. “I’m sure I can throw it on top of my head myself.”

“I would welcome the opportunity to hone my hairdressing skills,” Nathan said. “One never knows when I will find myself lost in the twenty-first century and in need of employment.”

Amanda laughed and turned away but paused with her hand on the door.

“Oh, by the way, should I wear that dinner dress you bought me tonight? Or is that for more formal occasions, though I can’t imagine what.”

“Yes, tonight would be a suitable time to wear your dress. Although Mrs. Spivey’s hotel lacks some of the refinement of the Empire Hotel, we may dress the part. I will dress as well.”

An hour later, Amanda emerged from the bathroom, squeaky clean and in a good frame of mind. In the absence of a bathrobe, she had slipped on one of the nightgowns Mrs. Murphy had selected for her, and she sped down the hall to her room without being seen.

She found herself actually looking forward to slipping into the dress Nathan had purchased for her, a peach concoction with frilly lace, though she could have done without the drawers, corset, chemise and petticoats that Mrs. Murphy had pressed upon her in private. Without revealing too much about herself or raising suspicion, Amanda could not tell Mrs. Murphy that she had no idea how to put the “white wear” on. She mourned the state of her bra and panties, now wet from a thorough cleansing in the sink. How long would they last? For that matter, how long would she last in 1906? She draped them over the radiator and turned to the box holding the underclothing.

As she laid out the various garments on the bed, Amanda wondered if she really had to wear all of them. She glanced over her shoulder toward the door and turned back with a sigh. No, this was one area where Nathan couldn’t guide her. At the moment, she couldn’t wait to meet the other three women who had traveled from her time, although in truth, she was a bit leery of meeting them. She wasn’t sure she could understand women who had voluntarily chosen to remain in the past—without modern medicine, civil rights, electronics, the comforts of home. However, part of her did understand the draw to the men of the early twentieth century. Certainly, Nathan and Robert Chamberlain were charming, handsome, well dressed... Well, Nathan was well dressed now. Amanda smiled to herself. She suspected that between the two of them, they epitomized every woman’s dream of an early twentieth century man-about-town. Although her first impression of Nathan had been less than inspiring, he certainly had come alive in his own time.

She turned back to the undergarments and picked up what she deduced to be the replacement for her panties. Mrs. Murphy had called them drawers as she had folded them into the box. Amanda slipped them on and tied them around her waist, feeling like a Southern belle in her drawers and crinolines. She slipped the chemise over her head and turned to eye the corset, an extravagant garment of white with pink ribbons which belied the hardness of the thing. Nope, she couldn’t do it. She grabbed the petticoat next and slid that over her drawers. No one was going to have their way with her, that was for sure. She was well and truly barricaded.

She pulled open the box containing the dress and pulled it out. A beautiful confection of peach silk and lace, she slipped it over her head and shoulders, allowing the skirt to fall to her feet. She turned toward the mirror above the dresser though it showed only her face. Still unbuttoned, the dress slipped off her left shoulder, and Amanda reached for the back, unable to reach the buttons. She shook her head. In addition to doing her hair, Nathan would have to button her dress up the back.

The idea hardly made her feel uncomfortable though. Although a more modern man might think she was trying to seduce him by asking him to button her dress or fix her hair, Nathan would not think that. At least, she hoped not. Other than the violence of their first encounter, he had adhered to some strong moral ethic or code in his treatment of her that left her feeling safe and protected. Though Nathan had held her against her will, the gentleness in his voice as he said “Amanda, Amanda! Stop. I will not harm you,” belied any suggestion that he would have hurt her.

Amanda slid the shoulder of her dress back on, sat down on the chair to stick her feet into the new cream-colored satin shoes that Mrs. Murphy had produced with pride along with a pair of dark books for everyday wear. Amanda had hardly thought two pairs of shoes were necessary, given that she didn’t know how long she would stay in 1906, but Nathan had supported Mrs. Murphy in her quest to sell the shoes. They were a bit loose, but Amanda thought that wouldn’t be a problem for a few hours.

Thinking she must surely be done, Amanda rose and peeked inside the bag to see what was left. Stockings! Mrs. Murphy had included several pairs of stockings with garter belts, reminiscent of those Amanda’s grandmother used to wear. She picked up her skirt and stared at her legs. Well, who was going to know if she wore stockings? She stuffed them back in the bag with the discarded corset and hid the bag by the side of the bed furthest from the door, as if Nathan was going to check and see if she’d worn all her issued clothing. The image made her grin.

A tap on the door startled her, and she looked at herself quickly in the small mirror before opening the door. Her hair hung past her shoulders in an unruly mass of curls, and she had no comb to work through the mess.

She opened the door with one hand to her hair and another holding the top of her dress up. Nathan stood in the hallway, stunning in a black dinner jacket and trousers, a high-collared white shirt, black vest and black bow tie. The sheen of his satin lapels was striking. His black shoes gleamed, and his well-groomed hair shone just as brightly as his shoes.

“I hope that your expression of astonishment indicates you approve of my appearance?” Nathan said, appearing a little self-conscious. “You are a sight to behold, Amanda.”

Amanda closed her mouth and blinked herself out of staring. “I do approve,” she breathed. “You look very fancy.”

Nathan blushed yet again. “Thank you. As you know, Mrs. Murphy did not have formal coat and tails, but since we are simply dining at the hotel, I thought this clothing might be sufficient.”

He frowned and peered at her. “Is something wrong? You are clutching your neck as if you feel unwell.”

Amanda realized she had a death grip on the top of her dress. She chuckled and stepped back into the room.

“Come in. I need help with my dress. How do women get into these things anyway? Don’t tell me they all have servants. I don’t believe it.”

Nathan stepped in and shut the door. “Then I will not tell you that, although if a woman is affluent enough to wear a dinner gown such as that, she normally has a servant or other family members who can assist her. I will stand in for a family member.” He grinned. “Turn around.”

Amanda did as she was told, and a shiver ran up her spine as she felt his hands on her back. She held her breath and relished his nearness as he stood close behind her.

Amanda’s knees turned to rubber when she felt her hair lifted from her neck.

“Could you hold your hair, please?” Nathan said in a husky voice.

She took the hair from Nathan and almost willed him to bend his head and kiss the exposed skin. But his fingers continued their inexorable way up the neckline of her dress, and Nathan stepped back. Amanda dragged in a deep steadying breath and turned in his direction. If she had truly been engaged to him, and Robert seemed to confirm that fact, then she must have been the luckiest woman in the world.

Warm brown eyes gazed at her steadily, and she lost the rhythm of her breath again.

“Stop staring at me,” she whispered.

Nathan shook his head. “I can’t.” He seemed to take a deep breath himself. “I don’t want to stop looking at you.”

A thrill ran through Amanda’s body at his words, and she turned away to look into the mirror. Her cheeks flamed with color. Her hair was a riotous mess.

“I can’t imagine wanting to look at me with this wild mop on my head. Can you do my hair, please? I don’t even have a comb or anything.”

“But of course,” Nathan said. He cleared his throat. “I procured a comb from Mrs. Murphy. We failed to obtain a hairbrush for you. I will remedy that in the morning.”

He came to stand behind her and lifted her hair once again. Amanda met his eyes over her head in the mirror. The look of love on his face seemed to pull at her soul, and she thought she might drown under his gaze. She closed her eyes and gave herself up to his grooming—a gentle process in which he painstakingly combed out each curl.

Some time passed before Amanda spoke.

“This is taking a long time. Are we going to be late for dinner?”

“Yes, it is,” Nathan spoke in a quiet voice. “I don’t think I care.”

Amanda grinned. She didn’t care either. He could run his fingers through her hair all night, and she would have been happy.

“It feels wonderful,” she said, keeping her eyes closed.

“Yes,” he said. He dropped his hands to her shoulders and pulled her gently against him. “I need to comb the front of your hair. Just relax.” His deep voice spoke near her ear, sending chills up her spine. How on earth was she supposed to relax? The feel of his strong body against her own didn’t encourage relaxation.

“I can’t,” she whispered.

“Can’t what?” Nathan murmured. He combed the front of her hair with one hand and smoothed it back with the other. She felt “petted” as a cat must feel.

“Relax.”

“Just breathe,” he said. “As I am attempting to do.”

Amanda inhaled deeply. “I’m breathing.” The warmth of his body spread to her back.

“Good.” She thought she heard a lilt in his voice, as if he smiled.

She smiled.

More minutes passed.

“I think I am ready for that band of yours and the pins,” Nathan said softly.

Amanda opened her eyes. Her hair was combed smooth. She grabbed the rubber band and the pins from the nightstand and handed them to him but avoided meeting his gaze. The moment was too intimate, and she felt as if she might lose herself in him. In time. In 1906. That she might never look back at her old life again.

Nathan pulled her hair up loosely and wrapped it into the chignon, sticking several pins in at strategic points. While he concentrated on her hair, Amanda studied his face tenderly. It had happened; she had fallen in love with him. Who couldn’t? It was almost as if there had never been a question of it...or even a choice really. Knowing that she had fallen in love with Nathan once before made it that much easier to fall in love with him again. She regretted the loss of time...when she could now have been married to him. Had they not become separated, they would have been married almost a year.

Mrs. Nathan Carpenter. Mr. and Mrs. Nathan Carpenter.

She could have sworn she was one of those women who never intended to give up her maiden name, but the sound of Mr. and Mrs. Nathan Carpenter made her heart thump happily while sending warmth coursing through her body—a “relaxing” warmth, as if she were finally safe and secure...and home.

Should she tell him? Was she prepared to stay in the past? Just like that? With no thought to the consequences? Falling in love was definitely blinding her to the possible complications of living in 1906, of giving up the life that she knew. It wouldn’t be fair to say anything to Nathan until she was absolutely sure about what she wanted.

Nathan wrapped a last curl on her neck around the tip of his finger and looked up at her.

“Do I have a future?” he asked.

Amanda blinked, startled out of her reverie. “A future?” How had he known what she was thinking? What was she supposed to say? Or do? Throw herself into his arms? She turned to do just that when Nathan spoke again.

“As a women’s hairdresser,” Nathan said with a chuckle. “Do you think I have a future as a hairdresser should the need present itself?”

Amanda checked herself and locked her hands behind her back. She returned his smile though a corner of her mouth trembled.

“Oh! Oh, sure! Yes, you do.” She turned and faced the mirror once more as if to check his handiwork, which was lovely. The waves of her hair had been softly swept up to the crown of her head with curls pulled out at the sides and nape of her neck.

“I am pleased you approve,” Nathan said. “Shall we go down to dinner? Robert should arrive soon.” He held out his arm for her, and Amanda felt the moment to tell him she had fallen in love with him was lost. It was just as well, she thought as she took his arm. She needed more time to decide whether or not she could live in the early twentieth century. As wonderful as she felt with her hand tucked up against Nathan’s side, she had to stop fantasizing about a perfect life with the man she loved. Perfect would have been if he had been born in the twenty-first century...with all the traits he now possessed. She shook her head. No, he wouldn’t speak in his charmingly formal dialect, he wouldn’t wear his sensual sideburns to the bottom of his ears and he wouldn’t wear the high-necked white-starched collar that set off his strong jaw line to perfection. He wouldn’t be Nathan, the perfect early twentieth century man.

“You seem deep in thought, Amanda,” Nathan said in a low voice as they reached the head of the stairs. “Is all well?”

Amanda, her eyes on Nathan’s well-polished shoes, allowed her gaze to travel up the length of his immaculate dark slacks, past his double-breasted waistcoat and black bow tie to his striking face. No, Nathan would not be the same had he been born in the twenty-first century. She loved the twentieth century man.

“Yes, fine,” she said. “I was just thinking about the differences between your time and mine.”

Nathan nodded. “I find that some of the differences are immense, while others seem insignificant.”

“Insignificant?” Amanda asked. “I haven’t found any insignificant changes yet. The changes seem pretty enormous to me.”

They reached the bottom of the stairs just as Robert stepped into the brightly lit lobby. Mrs. Spivey had obviously brought out a few more lamps for the occasion.

“Robert,” Nathan greeted him. “Welcome to the River Hotel.” He shook Robert’s hand, and Robert inclined his head toward Amanda in something almost resembling a bow.

“You look lovely as always, Amanda.”

She eyed him with awe. He too looked resplendent in more formal attire—a dinner jacket and bow tie like Nathan. While Nathan’s jacket had satin lapels, Robert’s had velvet.

“I see you have brought proper dinner attire,” Nathan chuckled, “even while on an errand to rescue me from destitution.”

“I suspected we would dine in public,” Robert said with a smile. “And you know that I am always prepared for any eventuality.”

Nathan nodded with a broad grin. “Indeed I do. That is one of the things I admire about you the most, my friend.” He put an arm around Robert’s shoulder, not something that Amanda would have ever thought to do with the tall man, no matter how long she had known him. Of the two men, Robert was the more formal, but Nathan seemed to ignore his friend’s reserve. And Robert didn’t seem to object.

Mrs. Spivey hurried in from the kitchen and directed them to the dining room, now laid out with a white tablecloth and what Amanda suspected were her best dishes. An arrangement of orange, white and peach-colored dahlias presided over the center of the table.

“These are beautiful!” Amanda breathed as Nathan settled her into the seat at the head of the table. He took the seat to her right and Robert sat down on her left.

“From my garden in the back,” Mrs. Spivey said with bright cheeks and sparkling eyes. “This is from the last of the blooms. I have to dig the tubers up soon and store them in the root cellar for the winter.”

“They are truly magnificent, Mrs. Spivey. My compliments,” Nathan said as he studied the arrangement with obvious appreciation.

“Indeed. I only wish we could grow such beauties in Seattle, madam,” Robert said.

“Oh, well, the Wenatchee Valley has just the right weather and soil conditions for the dahlias.” She preened a bit as she looked at flowers. “Well, I had better get dinner on the table. I hope you don’t mind, but there are no menus. I just make one meal for everyone.” She wiped her hands on her apron and scanned their faces. Seeing no protests, she nodded and hurried from the room.

Nathan turned to Robert as if he needed to say something. “Mrs. Spivey was left this hotel by her father and is attempting to run it herself. Her husband seems to stay busy at the train station.”

Robert nodded, unperturbed. “Yes, I do see that she has her hands full. Are there no other guests staying at the moment?”

Nathan shook his head. “No, I think she has workers staying during the growing season, but fortunately for us, she was quite empty when Amanda and I descended upon her and begged for free lodgings.” He looked at Amanda and chuckled. “Well, I begged. Amanda charmed. Mrs. Spivey has a warm heart.”

Robert looked at Amanda and smiled. “Ah, yes. I imagine that Amanda did charm. I find the women of the twenty-first century particularly skilled in this endeavor.”

Amanda blushed. At the moment, she felt more gauche than charming.

“I find myself wishing to say that I look forward to having you meet my wife, Ellie, and yet you and Ellie were already very close friends when you...left.” Robert gave a slight shake of his head. “She has missed you very much.”

Amanda bit her lip. “I’m sorry. I wish I could remember her.”

“You cannot possibly remember Ellie, Amanda,” Nathan said, “because at this point in time, you have never met her. Robert understands that.”

Robert nodded. “I do, although it does require my concentration, almost as a mathematical problem might.” He smiled wryly.

“I’m so glad you all are better at higher math than me,” Amanda said with a lift of her lips, “because I don’t get it at all.”

They were interrupted by the arrival of Mrs. Spivey with a soup dish that she referred to as the first course. The soup was delicious.

“She is an excellent cook, isn’t she?” Amanda murmured. She reached for a slice of warm homemade bread. If the food was anything to go by, she felt she could happily stay in 1906. If she could avoid all the foodborne diseases rampant in a pre-pasteurized society, that is. Family history held that Amanda’s great-grandmother and several of her children had died of typhoid fever after eating tainted ice cream. She eyed the creamed tomato soup and set her spoon down with the thought that she was going to starve unless she ate apples all day long.