The Sunstone Brooch : Time Travel Romance by Katherine Logan (i am reading a book TXT) 📕

it didn’t work for her. “The good part is, we can travel. Go to Lexington, Kentucky, or Napa, New York City, London, or even Paris. Wherever you want to go.”

She liked the sound of that. But going to any of those places in the nineteenth century would require an adjustment she wasn’t sure she could make. “If I have a choice, I’d prefer New York City. It would be easier to find employment there, although it would be hard to find a job doing what I want to do.”

“I came here to rescue you, Ens, and I failed, but I won’t fail to protect you or take care of you financially. If you want to go to New York, that’s fine with me. I can practice law or breed horses.”

There were dozens of 3 to work out while navigating this situation, but it might be manageable if they were honest with each other. “You mentioned brooches. How many are there?”

“Twenty-five. My family has eight.”

“Holy shit. Who has the rest?”

His forehead puckered. “We don’t know.”

“Where’d they come from?”

“Originally? The Vikings and early Celts.”

“And your family got them from the Vikings?”

“No, one arrives by indirect routes every two or three years. The first one—the ruby—showed up with my Aunt Kit. She landed on Dad’s doorstep when she was a few months old. When she was in her midtwenties, she went back to 1852 and traveled the Oregon Trail, searching for her birth parents.”

“How’d she get separated?”

“That’s an even longer story. I’ll tell you that one later. A few years after Kit went on her adventure, Aunt Charlotte went back to 1864 with the sapphire brooch. Aunt Kenzie worked at Bletchley Park with the codebreakers in England in 1944. Aunt Sophia was Thomas Jefferson’s official portraitist in 1789. Aunt Penny went back to 1814 and met Andrew Jackson. Aunt Amber fell in love with a Pinkerton agent in Colorado in 1878, and Aunt Amy went back to—” JC stopped and squeezed Ensley’s hand, and she jerked, shocked by the sudden move.

“Oh, sorry. I just thought of something. Aunt Amy traveled back to New York City in 1909, and several members of the family went back for her. If we’re in the city then, we can go home with them.”

Ensley fell back on the grass and covered her eyes with her arm.

God, this can’t be happening to me.

“What’s wrong?”

“A Harvard education, and that’s your bright idea?”

“Yeah. What’s wrong with it?”

She rolled over onto her side and propped her head in her hand. “Well, for starters, if this is around 1880, then we’re talking about thirty years from now. Thirty! I don’t want to spend the next three decades hoping someone will—no might—rescue me when I’m in my late fifties. Do you?”

She rolled over again and closed her eyes, visualizing herself at that age, and she nearly barfed. “By the time I’m that old, I want to be in love with my soul mate and have a houseful of children and grandchildren. Why would I want to leave at that point? And even if I did, there wouldn’t be anything left for me in the future.”

When he didn’t say anything, she opened her eyes to see what he was doing, half expecting him to be on his phone. But that was dumb. When he glanced at her, there was an intensity in his eyes she’d never seen before. It was almost scary.

“Maybe we won’t be gone that long in the future,” he finally said.

“What does that mean?”

“Well, after Aunt Kit met Uncle Cullen in 1852, they stayed in California until 1881, and by then, they were both ill. So they came home with us during that trip to rescue Emily. Aunt Kit was in the past for almost thirty years. But when she got home, she’d only been gone half that time.”

“How’s that possible?”

“It has to do with your age when you’re rescued.”

Ensley swallowed the knot in her throat as tears stung her eyes, and a rush of confusing emotions surged within her. “I had more hope before you arrived. Now it seems like”—she hung her head—“I don’t know…”

JC picked up a twig and snapped it in half, then snapped each half into halves. She watched and knew he was stalling.

“What is it, JC? There’s something else. Just spit it out.”

“I don’t want to give you false hope.”

“I don’t want it, either. Don’t give me castles in the sky, but if it might come true, then tell me.”

He turned toward her. “I’ve been working on a sensitive project for the past several months. And lately, I’ve been avoiding my parents. My dad has ESP. If I talked to him, he’d know I was hiding something. In our family, lies of omission are as bad as lies of commission. So I haven’t been taking his calls.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“God, you’re impatient. I’m getting to it.”

She twirled her finger in a speed-up motion.

“I knew Dad would call me, so I turned off my phone and put it in my desk drawer.”

“You wouldn’t be home to answer it anyway.”

JC gave her an exasperated exhale. “When you turn off your phone, the calls go straight to voice mail. Dad won’t put up with that for long. He’ll go to DC to find out what the hell is going on.”

“He won’t find you.”

“That’s the point. If nobody knows where I am, he’ll ask Uncle David to find me. And David will be all over it like a beagle following a scent. He’ll retrace my steps to Cambridge and will find the missing person report George filed.”

“Geez, they’ll never find me.”

“That’s the point. When Uncle David discovers you disappeared, he’ll read the report, which probably mentions me and the peat smell in the house. Uncle David will put it together with Professor Whiteside’s proposal, and he’ll know where we are.”

She shot up. “He’ll figure all that out? How?”

“Because it fits a familiar pattern. Dad will put a rescue team together, and they’ll come after us.”

“How soon?”

“Hard to