It was supposedto be an experiment, a simple jaunt into the past to see if a human could be retrieved after a specific amount of time. Unfortunately, or fortunately, depending on which way she looked at it, he’d set a chain of events in motion that altered her entire world and she was now married to one of his descendants, or so it seemed.
At the time, Cara thought Morgan was the perfect candidate. Basically alone in the world, except for one wife, her, he didn’t care about anything. How could she have anticipated he would travel to 1880 Kansas and fall in love? There was no way in hell she could have figured the man who laid around for months, refusing to leave the house, shower or even get dressed would travel back in time and become some kind of western rescuer of a saloon owning, gun-toting woman. And produce children, according to her recent genealogy search!
Now he was coming back. Why? That’s what she couldn’t understand.
Yes, she could keep him here. That, however, was not a great option as refusing to let him return to 1880 would mean cutting off a branch of that family tree. Morgan would be prevented from producing children, if Callie Mae wasn’t already pregnant, and that seemed unlikely. Where might that leave her? Alone, that’s where, or married to a man who didn’t want or love her because there would be no descendants and therefore no Micah Whittaker!
Micah was everything she’d ever dreamed of, well maybe more than she’d dreamed, but still delicious. He had the Whittaker good looks, was a distinguished scientist, and the director of the top-secret agency she worked for. Yes, it galled her a bit to suddenly have a superior who apparently was not only her boss at work, but in their private life as well. While he was kind and loving, he also had a dominant streak which strangely enough, she found completely captivating.
Once her headache had abated, they’d gone to the opera and had a marvelous time, followed by the most incredible lovemaking ever. He was a forceful, take charge sort of man, used to being obeyed, but in her high-pressured world he was exactly what she needed and she surrendered to him wholeheartedly.
Well, she sighed, getting up from her desk and placing her documents into her briefcase. Morgan was coming back on Tuesday and there wasn’t a damn thing she could do about it. Hopefully, he didn’t plan on staying long because having two husbands at the same time was definitely not on her bucket list!
Cara spentthe rest of the day with her current husband. Surprisingly, he insisted on attending services at the same church where their marriage took place. Her mind was once again flooded with new recollections as she greeted strangers and then moments later realized she did, in fact, know them. It was like putting together an elaborate puzzle, trying to determine which pieces were parts of her new life and which were from her past.
As a scientist, she knew the human brain had an unlimited capacity for knowledge, yet the more firmly she became engrained in her new life, the more distant her old life seemed. She couldn’t help but wonder if at some point her first marriage and the ensuing effects would totally fade from her conscious mind.
They cooked dinner together, working side by side in their custom kitchen and ate at the granite topped island. Micah poured her a glass of white wine and smiled when she drained the glass almost immediately.
“Are you sure you’re feeling all right, darling?”
“Yes, of course,” Cara replied as she handed him her glass for a refill. “Why?”
His questioning, raised-eyebrow stare made his feelings known.
“You’ve been acting oddly since I found you in your office as white as a sheet yesterday. Now you appear flushed. Is there anything you need to talk to me about?”
“Umm no, everything’s fine, Witt,” she replied, taking a bite of her Chicken Alfredo. Oh, God, Oh God, a nickname! It just fell out of her mouth like a gift. She called him Witt, obviously short for Whittaker, and sometimes she called him ‘Doc’. Why was it taking her so long to remember some things and not others?
She’d been waiting for some sign, some comment that would let her know he was aware of the situation, but so far nothing. Surely they had discussed it. She worked with him, and apparently had for some time. He must know about the project, and if not, why? How was she supposed to explain it to him?
Well,you see, until last week you didn’t even exist. I had this husband, oh yeah funny thing about that, his name is Morgan and he’s probably your great-great-great-great grandfather, or maybe an uncle…well he’s definitely related to you in some way.
You see I sent him back in time and he fucked up, no fucked up wouldn’t work. She believed she’d been spanked once before for using that kind of language. Okay, okay, regroup. I sent him back in time and he met this girl, a saloon keeper named Callie Mae Walker who was supposed to die in this gunfight, only she didn’t, because Morgan did something to change things, and after he promised me he wouldn’t fuck…damn…mess with the future. I don’t really know what exactly, but they had children and you’re a descendent of one of those children…probably.
I never really loved him, but the sex was great at first. No wait. Scratch that. I married him because his younger brother died and his parents were grieving so deeply. Morgan, my first husband, that is, enlisted and was going overseas and I was continuing my education, so I figured why not? What could it hurt, right? His parents were expecting grandchildren, which of course I was never going to provide, but it put a Band-Aid on the whole thing, sort of.
“Oh Lord,”Cara said out loud, pushing her plate away and draining her second glass of wine.
“All right,” Micah said, getting up from his stool. Taking the glass away from her, he lifted her down. “I don’t know what’s come over you young lady, but I feel we need to have a serious talk. Why did you go to the office so early this morning? What? You didn’t think I would notice my wife’s absence?” he asked with a derisive snort. “What happened while you were there that’s affected you this way?” he asked, tipping her chin up and forcing her to make eye contact.
Crap he’s hot, she thought. Wanting to reach out and cup his lovely organ in her hands, she forced herself to behave. What the fuck was she supposed to say anyway?
I got a letter this morning and my husband is coming back on Tuesday. Don’t worry, I’ll introduce you and I’m sure you’ll be great friends.
“Shit,” she snapped, twisting out of his arms and giving his chest a shove with her small hand. “I don’t want to talk right now. I want to drink,” she continued, snatching up the wine bottle as she pivoted. “I’m going to the den and I don’t want to be disturbed,” she tossed over her shoulder, her bare feet slapping against the tile.
Once Cara passed into the dining room she paused, holding her breath. Hearing the garage door open and close, she let out a sigh of relief and tipped the bottle to her mouth.
She’d have to tell him, of course, and she just earned a hell of a spanking, but she also bought herself some time. Witt would never discipline her when he was genuinely angry.
Moving on to the den, she sat at the huge mahogany desk and began to write on a legal pad.
It was important to write down every detail of her life with Morgan, just in case her memories began to fade. It would also give her some talking points when she explained to her current husband what transpired. All this would take place after he’d punished her for her rudeness, disrespect, and nasty mouth. He would send her to the corner until she stopped blubbering, comfort her when he determined she was duly repentant, and then insist on the truth.
Witt would get his way, he nearly always did, but it was nice being cared for, and come Tuesday morning he would be right beside her, offering support and guidance. Taking a huge gulp from the bottle, Cara began to write. She detailed each item of importance, stopping now and then to mull over the past. By the time she was done, the empty wine bottle was on its side. Leaning back in the big leather chair, she rested her feet on the corner of the desk and waited.
* * *
