woman, who had her back to Meredith, had already dismounted and tethered her horse to a spoke close to where Meredith had painted her name and her simple address of “down by the creek.”
“Can I help you?” Meredith asked, noting her voice rasped and sounded as frightened as she felt.
The woman’s thin shoulders slumped. Then she seemed to take a huge breath and straightened them, the sound of refined silk rustling as she did so. Turning, she lifted her veil and revealed a lovely face Meredith knew well.
“Erva...”
Minerva, Erva, Ferguson-Hill nodded once. “Hello, Meredith.” There wasn’t an ounce of warmth in Erva’s tone. Not that Meredith thought there should be. This was the one woman who could condemn her to a life of hell, and Meredith knew she deserved it after what she’d done to Minerva.
Erva climbed the three stairs to Meredith’s porch and looked down at her.
“May I come in? It’s rather cold here in Montana, although, I’m surprised it hasn’t snowed yet.”
“Yes,” Meredith breathed, not too sure how to talk to Erva. Too surprised to think of how Erva came to be here, at this time. Such a shock on her system, Meredith followed Erva blindly.
Erva strolled into the cabin. As Meredith closed the door behind herself and her guest, she noticed Erva’s gaze bouncing around her home.
“It’s quaint.”
“It’s small, you mean.” Meredith didn’t know why she was confrontational with the woman. Erva probably just meant it was quaint. After all, she was a saint. Or nearly. And Meredith was the devil in comparison. Was that why she was argumentative? Because she was damned anyway?
Erva’s jaw line kicked. Her nose flared. “Maybe this isn’t such a good idea.”
“I’m sorry,” Meredith whispered. Trying to hide her movements, she placed the Colt on her pantry, covering the gun with a kitchen towel, turning her back to Erva in the process. There, she could finally give clarion to her sentiment. “I’m so sorry, Erva.” Like a coward, she could only talk with her back to the one woman she’d hurt so much.
Erva didn’t say anything. She didn’t have to, and Meredith knew it.
Tears surfaced and rolled out of Meredith’s eyes before she could stop them. But something about crying, something about being so damned vulnerable in front of Erva broke the little pride Meredith had.
“I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.” Meredith turned, staring at Erva. “I’m so, so sorry.”
Erva’s jaw line worked again, but a flash of compassion passed through her lovely amber-brown eyes. Meredith didn’t deserve it.
“I don’t know how you got here,” Meredith continued. “I don’t know why I’m here, but I’m so sorry for everything I’ve done, done to you.”
“The muses didn’t tell you why you’re here?”
Meredith swallowed, panic streaking through her chest, pulling her lungs too tightly together. “You know about them?”
Erva nodded slowly. “They gave me a glimpse . They sent me back to 1776.”
“A glimpse ?”
Erva kept nodding. “Isn’t that what they called it when you landed here?”
Meredith shook her head, looking down at her hands making a moving lump under her gray wool cloak. She twisted her fingers, gripped at her hands in nervousness. Her movements made it look like the beginnings of an alien about to surface from her belly. How fitting, Meredith thought, as she found the courage to tell Erva how she came to be in Montana in 1887. She was going to explode with the truth.
“I had just gotten the summons for the Harvard hearing. The one for my plagiarism of your work. I was looking down at the note, when it evaporated, and I woke up here. In this bed.” After pointing with a wave of her hand toward said bed, she finally looked up at Erva again. “There were two women in golden togas. One of them said how being here was for my own good, punishment for what I did to you.”
Erva’s mouth gaped. But Meredith continued.
“I—I thought I
“Can I help you?” Meredith asked, noting her voice rasped and sounded as frightened as she felt.
The woman’s thin shoulders slumped. Then she seemed to take a huge breath and straightened them, the sound of refined silk rustling as she did so. Turning, she lifted her veil and revealed a lovely face Meredith knew well.
“Erva...”
Minerva, Erva, Ferguson-Hill nodded once. “Hello, Meredith.” There wasn’t an ounce of warmth in Erva’s tone. Not that Meredith thought there should be. This was the one woman who could condemn her to a life of hell, and Meredith knew she deserved it after what she’d done to Minerva.
Erva climbed the three stairs to Meredith’s porch and looked down at her.
“May I come in? It’s rather cold here in Montana, although, I’m surprised it hasn’t snowed yet.”
“Yes,” Meredith breathed, not too sure how to talk to Erva. Too surprised to think of how Erva came to be here, at this time. Such a shock on her system, Meredith followed Erva blindly.
Erva strolled into the cabin. As Meredith closed the door behind herself and her guest, she noticed Erva’s gaze bouncing around her home.
“It’s quaint.”
“It’s small, you mean.” Meredith didn’t know why she was confrontational with the woman. Erva probably just meant it was quaint. After all, she was a saint. Or nearly. And Meredith was the devil in comparison. Was that why she was argumentative? Because she was damned anyway?
Erva’s jaw line kicked. Her nose flared. “Maybe this isn’t such a good idea.”
“I’m sorry,” Meredith whispered. Trying to hide her movements, she placed the Colt on her pantry, covering the gun with a kitchen towel, turning her back to Erva in the process. There, she could finally give clarion to her sentiment. “I’m so sorry, Erva.” Like a coward, she could only talk with her back to the one woman she’d hurt so much.
Erva didn’t say anything. She didn’t have to, and Meredith knew it.
Tears surfaced and rolled out of Meredith’s eyes before she could stop them. But something about crying, something about being so damned vulnerable in front of Erva broke the little pride Meredith had.
“I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.” Meredith turned, staring at Erva. “I’m so, so sorry.”
Erva’s jaw line worked again, but a flash of compassion passed through her lovely amber-brown eyes. Meredith didn’t deserve it.
“I don’t know how you got here,” Meredith continued. “I don’t know why I’m here, but I’m so sorry for everything I’ve done, done to you.”
“The muses didn’t tell you why you’re here?”
Meredith swallowed, panic streaking through her chest, pulling her lungs too tightly together. “You know about them?”
Erva nodded slowly. “They gave me a glimpse . They sent me back to 1776.”
“A glimpse ?”
Erva kept nodding. “Isn’t that what they called it when you landed here?”
Meredith shook her head, looking down at her hands making a moving lump under her gray wool cloak. She twisted her fingers, gripped at her hands in nervousness. Her movements made it look like the beginnings of an alien about to surface from her belly. How fitting, Meredith thought, as she found the courage to tell Erva how she came to be in Montana in 1887. She was going to explode with the truth.
“I had just gotten the summons for the Harvard hearing. The one for my plagiarism of your work. I was looking down at the note, when it evaporated, and I woke up here. In this bed.” After pointing with a wave of her hand toward said bed, she finally looked up at Erva again. “There were two women in golden togas. One of them said how being here was for my own good, punishment for what I did to you.”
Erva’s mouth gaped. But Meredith continued.
“I—I thought I
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