Time After Time

Prologue

"Oh, Kelly . . . you look wonderful!"

Maybe it happens to everyone . . . that moment of wondering what the heck you're doing with your life . . . and suddenly it hits you that for most of it you've been floating along in a sea of indecision, allowing others to direct the flow. Kelly Brennan was having just such a moment as she stared at her reflection in the antique floor mirror, and she would have laughed if it hadn't been so pathetic.

"You're a vision in that dress, dear."

Yards and yards of green satin wrapped around her like a runny key lime pie. She was a vision, all right. Ruffles of stiff organza at her shoulders made her feel like a Brazilian football player in drag. And atop her auburn hair, the matching straw hat looked more like a wilted mushroom. How could anyone have picked such a hideous bridesmaid dress, and how could anyone have agreed to wear it? Guess that's what happens if you can't say no to an old college roommate when she asks you to stand up for her. So these were a wimp's rewards.

Smiling politely, Kelly turned to the bride's mother. "Thank you, Mrs. Whelan."

"I'm so happy for Melissa. I think this time she's found her Mr. Perfect." Peggy Whelan looked into the mirror and adjusted her tasteful cream-colored silk jacket.

"I hope so," Kelly whispered, wondering why she was the only one in this wedding party who looked so ridiculous. Had Mel been on drugs when she'd picked out this dress?

Why couldn't she just have said thank you for asking, but no thanks? Surely, there must be someone else in your life upon whom to bestow such an honor.

Obviously, there wasn't.

"Now I expect you to catch the bouquet, Kelly. Next wedding will be yours. It's your turn."

Kelly winced as memories came unbidden, yet managed a tight smile. "I was married."

Mrs. Whelan looked startled for a second, then returned her smile. "Oh yes, I forgot. Well, time to begin again, dear."

Kelly couldn't answer as she pushed away painful thoughts of Michael. It had taken too many years to accept that she was no longer married. She had to keep holding those memories as far below the surface as she could. Especially now. She turned to the window of the lovely old Southern mansion that had been rented for the occasion and stared out at the elaborate garden below.

Watching the last-minute guests arrive, she fought the urge to rip the stupid dress from her body and run away from all the madness. What had possessed her to agree to be a bridesmaid to a woman she'd only sent Christmas cards to for the last fifteen years? Why couldn't she just tell Mel's mother that marriage wasn't the be-all and end-all of a woman's life? And that there were no guarantees? At the very least, her daughter's third marriage should have shown her that.

Turning around to the woman who was still surveying her own reflection in the mirror, Kelly mumbled with a bit of unusual defiance, "What I mean to say, Mrs. Whelan, is, I don't know that I'll ever marry again."

The woman again seemed startled, then appeared decidedly relieved not to have to answer as Melissa came floating into the room on a cloud of white organza.

"Oh Mom, guess what? Damon just gave me my wedding present! A house! In the Garden District!"

Mrs. Whelan squealed along with her daughter, and Kelly was forgotten in the celebration. And, at that moment, Kelly swore she was going to change. Surely, this was the straw that had broken her wimpy back. She was going to learn to say no . . . and mean it!

"Are you ready?" Mel asked, beaming at Kelly. "You look . . . really sweet," she added with a tone of satisfaction.

"Sweet?" Kelly asked with a laugh as she looked down to her wide skirt. "Ya know, Mel, this color--"

"I told you I wanted it to look like an old-fashioned Southern ball gown." The interruption was obviously timed to halt any complaints. "And it does . . . doesn't it, Mother?"

Peggy nodded. "Sweet."

Suddenly, Kelly wondered if Mel was attempting to get back at her for something in college. What else could warrant this ridiculous costume?

"Well, it's time," Mel announced with a gusty sigh, glancing at herself once more in the long mirror.

Kelly had to admit that Mel looked pretty, even though wearing a formal white wedding gown for the third time might be overdoing it just a bit. Still, it was Mel's day and, like it or not, she was involved, so they might as well get it over with. Realizing how terrible that thought was, Kelly smiled at her old friend while trying to bring back memories of their closeness in college. "I wish you everything your heart desires, Mel. Be happy."

Melissa seemed to soften as she turned from the mirror. "Thanks, Kelly. I think this one's a winner."

"Well, of course he is," Peggy chimed in, picking up the delicate spray of white freesia and handing it to her daughter. "He just presented you with a house in New Orleans' Garden District!"

Mel laughed and held her bouquet to her waist. "All right, how do I look?"

"Beautiful," Peggy pronounced.

"Beautiful," Kelly whispered in agreement.

"Then we're ready. Let's get this show on the road, ladies!"

Kelly wondered if the guests were prepared for her to lead the bridal procession. When was the last time anyone had seen a walking key lime pie?

The reception was even more elaborate than the wedding, if not a bit exaggerated for Mel's newly acquired affinity with Southern culture. Catered by one of New Orleans' leading chefs. French and Cajun cuisines were the fare, and everything had been impeccably arranged under six large white canopies. White-and-yellow freesia arrangements were on every table and in front of several columns around the bandstand, where musicians in black tuxedos played. Long tables were heavily draped in white linen and dressed with the finest china, real silver, and cut crystal. The guest list was as impressive as the wine list, and Kelly was bored to tears.

She knew no one, yet found it at least got her off the hook from making conversation about monetary gains and other small gossip about family and friends. She had done her duty and witnessed Mel's wedding. She had danced with the best man, a lawyer and friend of Damon's with a very thick Southern accent who blatantly hit on her, even though his wife was sitting not ten feet away.

Kelly smiled as genuinely as she could, making her way through haughty cliques of strangers, and felt that overwhelming sensation that one doesn't quite fit in . . . and it wasn't just the dress. Through stems of twirling parasols and under bouquets of painted straw bonnets, women eyed her from head to toe while their husbands, charmingly Southern, bowed at her passing, even if they couldn't quite meet her gaze.

She'd lost her appetite much earlier in the morning, probably from wearing the lime-colored dress, and now she was fed up with the entire charade. . . . Enough was enough. She needed to be alone, and headed toward the dark canopy of trees at the edge of the garden, figuring it would at least provide some relief from the bayou heat and humidity.

Removing her straw-mushroom hat, Kelly made her way aimlessly under the umbrella of branches laden with Spanish moss and felt her flushed cheeks settle with the cool breeze. Why did she suddenly feel as though she were struggling with something? Was it Peggy's remarks to her earlier that brought back memories? Was it Mel's wedding, reminding her of her own so many years ago? Again, unbidden, the flashing scenes came rushing back at her. She pictured herself, right out of college, so young and so naive... never having a clue that in less than two years her entire life would be filled with such debilitating pain and loss that she couldn't get out of bed for weeks. . . .

Michael.

Her chest tightened with a dull pain. Her throat felt like it was closing.

How she had loved him. How he had loved her.

She still loved him. It was the reason she remained alone. She dated occasionally, yet knew it was unfair to compare every man to Michael, for they all came up far short. What else can a woman, who has had the love of her life taken instantly from her, do when she's just twenty-three years old?

Shrugging as she walked farther into the wooded area, Kelly twisted the brim of her hat and mentally pondered answers to her own question. She either dies, or she keeps herself preoccupied with something else. Okay, she was too much of a wimp to die, so she plunged herself into work, becoming a slave to it, and could now claim to be financially secure and the proud owner of a small travel agency. Sure, she helped other people fulfill their dreams, while her own . . . ?

Oh, what's the use, she thought, walking farther into a sun-dappled clearing. She didn't need to try very hard, for she could still see him in her mind's eye; finely chiseled, tall, dark, with laughing blue eyes . . . smiling at her as he walked in the front door of their small apartment. A tiny smile played at her lips. How just the thought of him softened her heart. They were so close they didn't need words to know what the other was thinking. They had a comfortable, silent language. One look could simply say it all. And then came that April morning, when a policeman said her husband had been shot in a convenience-store robbery. By the time she arrived at the hospital, she was already a widow. He had just been in the wrong place at the wrong time, they told her. Such a cliche.

Through the deadened silence that enveloped her, Kelly felt that all-too-familiar pain rip at her heart and, dropping her hat, she clutched her chest.

Shaking her head, as if the action might wipe out the memories she had kept at bay so long, she stiffened and mentally demanded she not dredge it all up again, and yet . . . she couldn't deny he still haunted her life. There wasn't a day that she didn't feel his presence. Most of the time, she forced herself into a state of automatic pilot, half-awake, just pretending to be alive. Without Michael, her life felt superficial. Maybe that was why the fight had gone out of her, why she couldn't say no to anyone . . . not a last-minute client or old college roommate.

Still, she couldn't deny she'd made a choice, for if she'd given in to the rage she would have run into the night screaming at the gross injustice and completely lost her mind. Instead, she closed it all off and shut down. And where had it gotten her?

She glanced down to the wide skirt of her gown and wanted to laugh out loud at the absurdity of it all. It got her right here, looking like an absolute idiot, in a lime green, old-fashioned Southern ball gown wandering around in some back bayou woods in Louisiana.

Hearing the faint music begin again, Kelly knew she should probably head back, though she really didn't want to rejoin the party. What she really wanted was to go to her hotel, change into a pair of jeans, and try to reschedule her return flight back East for this evening instead of the following afternoon. Yet she didn't want to appear rude or to disappoint her friend, and, if she were completely honest with herself, she would admit she still hadn't mastered the fine art of saying no.

Someday, she would stop being such a pushover.

Turning back to the grove of old trees, she was awed by one in particular, just twenty feet away. It was like a postcard picture. The massive oak tree was at least eight feet wide at the base of its trunk. Large, spreading, leafy branches loomed above, dripping with silver-green velvet moss. Breathtakingly ancient and beautiful, the tree was compelling. She felt an inexplicable urge to get closer, just to touch it. As Kelly stepped nearer, she was suddenly forced to stop as an overwhelming jolt ran through her. Her jaw dropped in surprise, and she again clutched her chest. It was so unexpected . . . something, like an electrical charge, appeared to have emanated from the tree, traveled through the ground and raced up her legs, settling in her heart.

Uncontrollable tears began to trickle down her cheeks, and she felt foolish for not knowing why . . . and then it hit her. It was grief. Swells of grief washed over her, and still she couldn't name the source. It wasn't Michael. Or it was Michael and something else, something so intense she had to tear her gaze away and turn back to the sounds from the wedding reception.

Composing herself by focusing on the distant white canopies, Kelly wiped at her eyes, feeling the searing sensation lessen.

Having calmed herself, Kelly became aware of the heavy air around her. It was very still, yet she heard a strong breeze rustle through the leaves of the ancient tree right behind her. Her thoughts made the small hairs on the nape of her neck stand on end. Was the tree making its presence known to her again? She must surely be having a nervous breakdown or something to think such a thing. With shaky fingers, she grabbed up the hem of her skirt and figured the dress had really been her breaking point after all. Stepping away, she felt a deep sense of urgency pressing between her shoulder blades, as if the tree were calling her back, and doggedly tried to ignore it.

Just get back to the party, she told herself. Don't even think about it. It's only a tree. Whatever just happened isn't real. Imagination. That's it. She was a grown woman, and such things were ridiculous. A tree doesn't transmit feelings!

A part of her was angry with herself for being scared. Wait a minute! Hadn't she made up her mind that she wouldn't be a wimp, that she would be able to say no and mean it? As crazy as it would have sounded to anyone else, Kelly knew that she had to do one thing for herself before she left these woods.

Taking a deep breath, she grabbed up the yards of material surrounding her and turned around with firm determination. Stomping right back up to the tree, she planted her feet in the soft, leaf-covered earth, placed her hands on her hips, then glared up its huge trunk and into the greenery above. If she had to begin with a tree . . . even if it was limb to limb... then so be it! It was a start.

"No!" Her defiant word muffled off into the shaded woods.

Somehow, in the following silence, she felt better.

Almost in a display of good sportsmanship, Kelly let out her breath slowly and lifted her hand to the aged trunk. It wasn't so scary now. In fact, the rough bark felt almost comforting. Shaking her head and exhausted with emotion, she leaned against it, wondering why she had ever been afraid. Must have been that trip down memory lane. It was just an old tree, a sentinel of history, that had probably been around for over a hundred years. She almost laughed at her vivid imagination. Sentinel of history? Where had that come from?

No sooner had the question popped into her mind when it appeared her enormous companion was beginning to fade right before her eyes, as her hand disappeared . . . then her arm . . . then her shoulder. Instantly, she was seized by an intense drawing sensation that pulled her off balance giving her the uncanny impression of falling through the tree, feeling its age, its moisture, its musky essence and its weariness of just existing for so many years. . . . It happened so quickly she felt helpless to stop it.

Sparks of electricity buzzed through her body again, causing a dizzying nausea, and Kelly blinked her eyes as she suddenly found herself on her knees. Her body felt incredibly drained, and she began to shake. How had she fallen? When? Had she passed out? She started to whimper, as fear of the unknown began racing through her system. What the hell had just happened?

Get up, she mentally instructed herself. She struggled to stand upright through her twisted skirt. Dizziness immediately assaulted her again and, slamming her eyes shut, she grabbed her head as if to hold it all together. Once more Kelly reached out to lean against the wide trunk for assistance in rising when she found herself falling again, this time to her side.

"Oomph . . ." The sound forced out as her body hit hard against the ground. For just a few moments, she lay there alone and in shock as she tried to regain her breath. Eyes wide-open, she stared up at the cloudy blue sky and asked once more, this time aloud, "What . . . the . . . hell . . . is . . . going . . . on . . . here?" Rising slowly and leaning on one elbow, she shifted her head to look at the tree, and her brain froze when she realized why she'd fallen.

There was no tree.

Her head turned in all directions, her eyes darted about desperately to find it, or any of the other magnificent trees that had drawn her to the woods in the first place. All the trees around her now looked much younger, less substantial. Crazy thoughts crashed in her mind all at once . . . Okay, so maybe she was having a nervous breakdown! Or maybe something was wrong with her brain . . . perhaps she had heatstroke. She hadn't had anything but coffee all morning, and a light salad on the plane the night before. The heat and humidity of the Louisiana bayou could fry your nerves. That had to be it. Or maybe she was dreaming. Sure, that was it, she was dreaming. None of this could be real . . . because trees don't just damn well disappear!

With that final thought, Kelly forced her brain to stop thinking and closed her eyes. She held her breath and waited, sure she would wake up at any moment. Only an eerie silence followed her pause, and her brain began churning again. Where's the band music from the reception? The clinking of glasses? The muffled chatter and laughter of the guests?

"Oh, come out of it!" Kelly commanded herself aloud, relieved to realize she hadn't gone deaf altogether, when suddenly, a rustling in the woods grabbed her attention. Her eyes shot open, and she turned toward the noise. What began to emerge slowly from behind a young oak tree made her gape in even more stupefaction as she lay frozen on the ground.

Eye to eye their gazes locked, and even as Kelly heard the words, nothing in her life could have prepared her for them. . . .

"I gotcha! You is a fairy, ain'tcha?"