The Sapphire Brooch by Katherine Logan (best novels to read to improve english .txt) 📕

“When ye go back for Jack, ye’re taking with ye everything ye know today. Ye’re a doctor, ye grew up in Richmond, and yer parents were teachers. Those memories are not going to change. When ye see Jack, his memory will not be the same as yers. He’ll be ready to return to the homeplace—”

“Which doesn’t exist for me.”

“When he’s exonerated and saves the plantation, it will then exist in the future. It’s what ye’ll return to—to the world of Jack’s memories, not yers.”

78

MacKlenna Farm, Lexington, Kentucky, Present Day

Charlotte tied the narrow black cravat into a small, flat bow and primped in front of the mirror. Satisfied with the look of trousers, shirt and vest, she slipped on a matching jacket and smoothed the front. The tailor had done a remarkable job in a very short time.

The shoulder-length wig she wore belonged to Meredith. When Meredith’s hair fell out during chemo, Elliott had it made to match perfectly the color and texture of her hair. Meredith had hated wearing it, claiming it was too hot. She rarely wore it then. Since her hair had grown back, she gladly contributed it to Charlotte’s costuming.

Charlotte pulled the hair into a queue and tied it at her nape with a leather thong. Transformed now into Charley Duffy, she paused in front of the mirror again, studying her appearance. There was something odd about the costume. She shrugged uncomfortably from the breast binding and adjusted the cravat. The suit was too fitted, too perfect, and too brown. If she were going to dress like a man, she preferred to be a soldier, not a dandy.

She fluffed her beard with a few swipes of her fingers to give it a more rugged look, and turned away from the mirror.

Her mind drifted from her clothing to her conversation with Elliott. What he’d said played like a short looping video. It was possible she and Jack would no longer have shared memories, and the thought gave her a sense of leg-weakening helplessness, sharpened by grief. If she gave in to despair now, she’d be unable to focus on ensuring they’d at least have a future, with or without shared memories.

The Frasers’ Maine Coon cat, Tabor, ran into the bedroom and leaped onto the bed, where she immediately burrowed all thirty of her pounds into the middle of the pillows.

“You, goofy cat. Don’t you know you’re not a person?” Charlotte sat on the edge of the bed and cuddled Tabor, who purred for her. “If you stow away in my bag, I’m sending you back. One trip to the past should be enough for a cat like you.”

How in the world Kit managed to take care of a menagerie while traipsing across the country in 1852 boggled Charlotte’s mind. The logistics of getting from Kentucky to Washington were complicated enough, and she only had to worry about herself.

“Is that really you?” Meredith’s voice came softly from Charlotte’s doorway, startling her. She jerked her head around to see her friend’s wide-eyed stare.

“Yes and no. Usually I have a sense of the person I’m portraying, but I have no clue who this man is.” Charlotte glanced toward the mirror, squinting, as if refocusing would bring clarity. It didn’t.

“Elliott thought he might have upset you earlier. Are you okay?”

“I think so.” Charlotte gave up hoping for character insight and hugged Tabor good-bye.

“Good. He was worried.”

Charlotte picked up the carpetbag with her medical supplies and clothing and joined Meredith, scratching at a bug bite on her hip. “He told me when the two of you met, he wasn’t a very nice person. It’s hard to imagine.”

“He had good days, and those were fantastic.” Meredith paused and seemed to drift off, then returned as if she’d suddenly remembered what she was saying. “When the pain in his leg worsened, he depended on drugs and alcohol to get him through and then he became verbally abusive.”

“I’ve seen similar things happen too many times. I’m sorry he went through it, but he looks healthy now.”

“He is, thank God. It’s been more than two years since he’s had a drink. He’d be okay now with a glass of whisky or wine, but he won’t…” She paused again, and curled her bottom lip over her top one. Something was on her mind.

“Are you okay?” Charlotte asked. “You seem distracted.”

“Do I? Well, hmm.” Meredith dismissed Charlotte’s observation with a shrug and seemed to remember the point of her visit. “Come downstairs. Elliott and David are waiting.”

Charlotte had never seen Meredith so befuddled. Was she sick again? Had her cancer spread? Had she received a bad report? No, if it was true, she’d have all Elliott’s attention, but at the moment, he was single-mindedly focused on Jack’s rescue. Either she hadn’t told Elliott, or her distraction had nothing to do with her health and everything to do with something else she’d discovered.

Charlotte shouldered her bag and followed Meredith down the stairs. “This is my third trip and I’m more scared this time than I was the other two combined.”

“I often think about what Kit endured and wonder if I would have had half the courage she had. But I know for sure I don’t have the courage you do,” Meredith said.

“Don’t discredit what you did. You delivered a healthy baby after an attempted murder, breast cancer surgery, and chemo. It’s remarkable. No, it’s amazing.”

“I can’t wait to meet the woman who has the emerald brooch,” Meredith said.

Charlotte stopped on the stairs, almost tripping, and looked at Meredith. “It might be a man. But whoever has it, I hope to God their journey isn’t as traumatic.”

Elliott jaunted out of the office and watched them descend the stairs. “I hope so, too.”

She leaned against the newel post before stepping off the last riser, thinking. “Knowing someone else will go through a similar experience is not very comforting right now.”

David joined them with a golden retriever close on his heels. He slipped the strap of