After a few minutes of contemplation, Journey decided she wouldn’t change a thing – except for the part where he said goodbye.
As the hours progressed, she sought to push aside her grief and do some work. First, she put on that pot of soup she’d been craving. Second, she settled at her workstation in the sunroom and mixed together the appropriate oils to make a spray to combat restless leg syndrome. Peppermint, lavender, chamomile, ginger, rosemary and frankincense. Fifteen drops of each in fifteen milliliters of magnesium. Once she packed a bottle for shipment, she slipped a bar of lavender soap into the box with a note telling the woman to put the bar beneath the bottom sheet of her bed. Yes, this was a little strange, but her great grandmother’s recipe book swore by it and many of her customers reported how well it worked. “There’s many mysteries in this old world we can’t explain.” She could vouch for that as truth, no doubt about it.
Work seemed to soothe her, so she moved on to another project. This time it was a blend for allergies. The best herb she’d found to relieve the symptoms of seasonal allergies was the humble stinging nettle. She picked her own and packed the leaves in a jar filled with vodka. After two months, she could mix the tincture with lemongrass, red clover, fennel, spearmint, and lavender. People begged for the stuff. The Hill Country was notorious for cedar fever, mold, and oak allergies and this recipe seemed to do the trick.
The next time she lifted her head, the sun had gone down. A sharp ache made her double over when she realized anew that he was gone. “Oh, Reno. I pray you’re safe. Wherever you are.”
…After hours of failure, Reno finally gave up. He’d been sitting here staring at a solid wall of rock for hours on end. He’d charged the damn thing three times. His horse thought he’d lost his mind. “Might as well face it. That rock is not going to open. Not even ‘open sesame’ has an effect.” He’d remembered the story of Alibaba and the Forty Thieves from one of the times Fancy read to them all as they crowded around the fire to eat one of her decadent chocolate cakes. She loved to read, and whatever she loved Kingston Ramsay made sure she had it in quantities. The Thousand and One Arabian Nights was his favorite book.
Regardless, Reno found himself still in 2019. He knew he could still hear an occasional car engine from the road next to the park entrance. Surprising how well the sound traveled on the night air. Rising, he dusted off his pants. “At least we have somewhere to go.” Journey’s words still sounded in his ear.
If something happens and you can’t find your way to leave, come back to me. I’ll be here. Waiting. You’ll always have a place with me.
Reno couldn’t help it. He felt a thrill at the memory. He might not be able to go home, but he did have some place to go. Someone to welcome him. Despite his determination to find a way back to help Cole – and he wasn’t giving up, he would try again – Reno couldn’t hold back the joy that flooded his soul at the prospect of spending more time with Journey.
As he mounted Traveler and rode away from the box canyon, he debated the best course of action. Perhaps there was someone who could help. With all the new inventions and advancements, surely someone could offer him assistance or hope of an answer. Journey would help him; he knew she would. And in the meantime, he could explore and learn things. He knew Journey would go out of her way to make sure he experienced all this world had to offer. He grinned to himself, imagining her smiling face. Would she be happy to see him?
As he pictured her surprise and happiness, a little voice deep in his mind whispered how unfair he was being to her. She’d made it more than clear how much she cared about him. He’d seen the pain in her eyes when he said goodbye. Would she have to go through that same thing every time he made an attempt to leave? Was that fair to her? Reno cursed under his breath. “Dammit. You know what you have to do.”
... “You’ve had enough to eat, Dudley. You two are getting as fat as potbellied pigs.” Even with her reprimand, the dapple dachshunds kept begging and she finally gave in with a sigh. “All right. Aunt Myra can put you both on a diet when she gets home.”
Her aunt had called a few minutes ago, checking up on her and the dogs. Journey told her everything was fine. Yes, she neglected to tell her about the two men who chased her from Fredericksburg. She also neglected to tell her about being rescued by Reno. When she returned home would be soon enough to confess that their hero from the past had spent a day in the present. “Oh, damn.” She let out a ragged breath, a fresh wave of sorrow nearly bringing Journey to her knees. “How am I supposed to let you go?”
“Journey?”
Knock. Knock.
Journey almost fainted at the sound. “Reno!”
With a
