Edge of Time (Langston Brothers Series) Read Free Page A

Mrs. Harris gushed as the captain turned to Marissa and tipped his hat,
    “My apologies for the rather abrupt meeting this evening, Miss — ?
    “M-McClafferty,” she stammered out, grateful she could form any coherent thoughts or speech. “Marissa McClafferty.”
    He nodded. “Good day to you, ladies. ” And with that Captain Langston took his leave.
    To say Marissa was confused would have been the understatement of any century. Marissa knew she was still standing in the field outside of the old brick farmhouse, but everything was different.
    Even the air smelled differently.
    Where the highway should have been she saw a wooded area with a dirt road winding through, and a barn lay off one side of the house where none had existed seemingly moments before. The dilapidated house she’d driven past countless times appeared in excellent repair with the trim and porch neatly painted white. The yard was decorated with a tasteful collage of flowers, and freshly washed linens had been hung out to dry. The word picturesque came to mind and Marissa turned tentatively to the woman who had proclaimed her a member of the family.
    “Let’s get you into the house, child.” Mrs. Harris spoke kindly and her refined southern drawl had a soothing quality. Her pale hair with the slightest hint of gray about the ears had been pulled into a proper bun at the nape of her neck and her pretty face flushed with color. “We can’t have anyone else seein’ you dressed in such a fashion.” Mrs. Harris took Marissa by the arm and led her behind the house toward a back door. “Don’t worry, darlin’,” she whispered emphatically. “ You’re not crazy, that much I can promise you.”
    “What!” Marissa spun away from the woman, dumbfounded.
    “You are not crazy. ” Mrs. Harris stopped and turned to her, excitement s parkling in her blue-green eyes. “I have to ask, Marissa, what year is it where you come from?”
    Marissa’s eyes widened in alarm. “Well, I come from here,” she hedged, unsure of how to respond.
“Yes, but what year is it?”
    Mentally she threw up her ar ms and went out on a limb. “2012 .” Oddly terrifying as the declaration seemed she sensed Mrs. Harris already knew.
    The woman nodded in satisfac tion. “Twenty years on the nose. I’ll be damned! Excuse me, I suppose a lady shouldn’t use such language.” Mrs. Harris let out a short almost hysterical laugh then shook her head as though to clear it. “It was 1992 when I found myself here and now it’s 1863.”
    Marissa’s mouth went dry. 1863. It could not be possible. Charleston, South Carolina 1863 meant… Mouth agape she could do nothing but shake her head in fervent denial. None of this could be real! “I’m dreaming. I must be dreaming.” Perhaps she’d hit her head on that rock in the field and was unconscious.
    “Come along, Marissa, I’ll explain everything inside over a nice cup of hot tea.”
    Marissa entered the house, immediately struck by its charming appearance. G olden wood floors gleamed with fresh polish and crisp white walls reflected the natural light from the windows lending the home a light, airy aura . Mrs. Harris led Marissa into the parlor, and instructed her to make herself comfortable. Marissa sighed as the other woman stepped out of the room. Wearily, she flopped into a wingback chair, trying to make some sense of recent events. Through the lacy curtains she spied the reddening of dusk in the clouds and realized that she felt strangely numb. I think I must be in shock.
    “Have you eaten, Marissa?” The kind almost motherly voice pulled her from h er musings and she turned to find Mrs. Harris carrying a tray laden with a silver tea service, biscuits, preserves, and a steaming bowl of soup.
    “No, not since lunch, but that was — ” She shrug ged and let out a short laugh. “ Well, I suppose I don’t know when that was.”
    Mrs. Harris bestowed another understanding smile upon her. “I’m glad to see you