17.

Days turned into weeks which slowly bled into months and still she was here in this hot humid god forsaken South. She wandered the verandah, her eyes studying the horizon and wished for the millionth time that she were back in her own time. It was nice here, lazy days being pampered, a thoughtful man who loved everything about her, except it wasn’t her, not by a long shot.

She was living some other woman’s life and the more she thought about it, the more it scared her, what if that woman had taken HER place, what if she was there holding hands with her Richie? God just the thought of this place’s Olivia kissing or holding hands with her Richie had her blood pressure rising. She missed him every part of him, and Stephen, although a clone of the younger version of Richie, wasn’t the man she loved.

It had gotten worse as the days moved on. As rumors of war had increased so had the animosity between the brothers, one brother in favor of freeing slaves and the other dead set against it. They’d almost come to blows more than once and it had taken Josephine and even her to keep them from hurting each other. She’d never seen her Richie and Jon fight as much as these twins did. Maybe it was because they were older and wiser. She’d probably never know, but if she ever got home she was surely going to ask.

There came the day when the fights finally had went past the point of no return and both brothers had ridden out to join the side of the fight they were so much in favor of. She’d wrapped her arms around the distraught Josephine and whispered positive thoughts. They’d come to their senses, they’d come home soon, she’d see; only they hadn’t returned home and as the daily newspapers reported more and more dead she began to despair for them both.

Even though they were not her Richie and Jon, she’d grown to care for them, and even fancied that had she known Jon and Rich when they were in their twenties they just might have been more like Stephen and Francois.

Shaking her head to clear it of the unruly thoughts of all she couldn’t change she pulled her wrap from the rocking chair and set out along the path at the side of the house. She’d walked it often, hoping each and every time to catch a glimpse of the life she’d lost, only to be disappointed. She was beginning to think she’d be stuck in the past forever. She even wondered if Richie even missed her.

As she wandered, her eyes took in the spidery Spanish moss hanging like tendrils of shadows over her head and sighed. It hadn’t changed that much from the day they’d ridden here, and that was years in the future, or so it seemed. As she sighed she saw the heat wavering in the atmosphere. Odd she’d not seen that before. She walked closer, her eyes widening as she saw her Richie and Jon standing there, in the exact place she’d left them months before.

A bright smile began to shine on her lips as she started towards the wavering heat. She could get home, she could finally go back to where she belonged! She was so close, god he was standing right there laughing with Jon. They weren’t affected by the dark cloud of hurt and anger that lingered here even weeks after the brothers had left.

Home. She could go home.

As she moved to step closer, a hand tapped her on the shoulder. “Miz Olivia, you gots to come now. Miz Josephine, she done collapsed! We needs you Miz Olivia, she’s calling for you.”

She kept her eyes on the vision before her, her voice chopped and nearly curt. “What’s wrong now Cissy? The china has to be hidden from the Yankees?”

“Oh no’m, she done collapsed. Gots a letter, done told her the brothers are dead. She right upset ma’am. Please come!” Cissy pulled at Lind’s hands urgently. “She be callin’ for ya ma’am.”

Linds watched as the heat wavers vanished, the vision of Richie and Jon fading from her eyesight as she sighed. She wasn’t too sure Olivia would return and Josephine needed her. Turning her back on the fading sight, assured she’d never get home again, she started towards the house, tears beginning to track along her cheeks at what she’d just willingly given up.


Within moments she was inside, instructing the house workers to help her get Josephine in the bed, a very incoherent, sobbing mother who no matter what, could not be soothed. No amount of cajoling or promises could get her to calm, and as the days past and she refused to eat, Linds grew fearful. Josephine was willing herself to die and she’d be left here alone in this place. She had to find a way, any way to soothe the woman, but there was no chance as word came about the death of the second brother. Josephine faded by the day and Linds herself grew more and more worried. If she didn’t find a way and fast to give the woman a reason to live she was going to die, but all she could do was hold her hand and pray.

As the early evening shifted into the blackness of midnight and Josephine opened her eyes for the first time in days. Her voice was hoarse from days of crying and her eyes were rimmed in red as she looked at the exhausted girl. “They’ll never come back, died hating each other. How can I live knowing that?”

It was then, it hit her, a way to give the sorrowing mother hope. “I know you won’t believe me Josephine, but I have a story to tell you. Don’t think I’m crazy because I’m not.” She watched as Josephine pushed up into a seated position and nodded when she indicated for her to continue. “you see my name isn’t Olivia, don’t ask me how but somehow I came through time and took her place. I know I know it sounds ridiculous, but its not.”

She leaned back and watched the older woman intently. “Do you believe that spirits can live after death? It’s gotta be true because where I’m from there are these two men, and they are so like Stephen and Francois. Jon, the younger of the two is an astute businessman and he sings, like an angel really, they made a fortune in music. And Richie, he’s just like Stephen, fun loving and loves his guitar. I promise you Josephine, your boys didn’t die forever.”

She stood and walked to the window. “I saw you there too, only you vanished, but you were looking at a portrait of your sons, Jon and Richie were there. Oh if I could go back to my time and you were there I could prove they had forgiven, or well I guess they had come back in a new time to get their relationship right!”

Josephine’s eyes widened. Life after death? It was impossible. She smiled, a gentle loving smile and managed a whisper. “Indeed that would be nice darling girl, but I fear it’s not possible.”

Linds turned and moved back to the bed, her eyes bright with unshed tears. “Oh but it is possible, and I’ve been gone months and months, I bet he’s forgotten me by now! I love him more than life. I miss him so Josephine, but I can see the younger Stephen in him. They are so alike. God I love you but I miss him and I just want to go home.”

Josephine’s head tilted. “You love this older version of Stephen then? This is why you were so different with my son?”

Linds nodded. “Yes it is.”

Josephine saw the truth in the girls startling blue gaze and nodded. “I believe you. Maybe it is possible, Many other things under God’s eyes have happened. But child, only you can find your way home. I have a feeling only you have that power. Now scoot, go get some rest in your own bed. I’ll be ok I promise.”

She pressed a kiss to Josephine’s forehead and sighed. “It’s all the truth I promise.”

~~~

She awoke to the feeling of lips pressing against her chin, and felt a momentary confusion. Who was kissing her? Stephen was dead, Cissy would never dare, and Josephine was still in her bed. As her eyes opened she almost cried, “Oh no, how’d you fall into the past too?”

Richie blinked and started to laugh. “Darlin, we’re right where we are supposed to be, Halloween 2008.”

She bolted upwards, her eyes moving around the room. It was a dream? It had all been a dream? It was too vivid, she’d actually felt everything, but there were the electric lights and the switches and oh god there was Richie! “Oh God. I’m so happy to SEE you!”

Her hands wrapped around his neck as she pulled him on top of her, her lips attacking his with a fierceness that screamed of months of absence. “Oh God you taste so good!”

He chuckled as she attacked him with lips, hands and teeth. From the urgency of her kisses you’d think she’d been gone months. “Darlin, I was only gone a few moments. You must have gotten tired and came to nap before the donation ceremony is all. Now as much as I wanna get you out of that dress, its almost time for dinner. Oh wait I can get you out of it, I just have to put you back into one.” His brows waggled, “There’s always later Darlin’.”

She knew deep inside that it was more than that, but she knew even better that he’d never believe she’d just went through time. Hell it sounded crazy to even her, maybe she had just dreamed it all.

With the arrival of Celeste, who for all her helpful ways was definitely no Cissy, she was dressed and ready for the evening’s activities. As Richie walked from the bathroom he whistled at the off the shoulder satin evening gown. Putting on his best Rhett Butler voice he walked towards her, “Frankly My Dear, your fuckin’ gorgeous.”

She wrapped an arm around his waist and smiled. She was home, back where she belonged and damn he was so fine. “ya know handsome, you cut quite the dashing figure in that get up you have on.”

He shoved the hat back on his head slightly and smirked. “Of course I do Darlin’, I make it all look good.”

As they exited the room, Jon walked out into the hallway. “Well I see you found that woman Sambora.”

Richie snorted as his hand lifted to thwap Jon on the back of the head. “She was napping asshole.”

As Linds watched them playfully argue, she smiled. If only Josephine could see this. As they started off down the hall towards the staircase she felt a tap on her shoulder. Turning around she saw Josephine and her eyes were brimming with tears as she watched the men.

“Jon, Richie could you turn around please?” Linds knew they wouldn’t see what see saw, but she had to let Josephine see. She watched the woman’s face as the two men turned, still playfully arguing over who had the best taste in clothes, women and everything else. “See Josephine, I told ya. They found each other again.”

The older women watched the men, older by far, but just like her sons and started to smile. She nodded at Linds and mouthed a soft thank you as she slowly faded from sight. Shivering for a moment at the proof that her dream had been all too real Linds turned, and stepped back up to the man she loved. “Dinner anyone?”

In tandem the two men shivered as a cool hand seemed to brush over their cheeks, and a soft southern voice whispered I love you.

Richie shook his head and thwapped Jon again. “Come on, I wanna eat and dance,” his brow waggled, “So I can come upstairs to eat and dance again.”

“You my brother are nuts.”

Richie grinned. “Of course I am, it’s why she loves me.”

Linds snorted. Of course he was right.

16.

Linds continued her trip into the rabbit hole as Josephine took her by the arm and led her inside. “Gracious child, We’ll have to remember you aren’t used to the heat of our summers. Let’s get you inside. It’s time for you to take an afternoon rest. You’ll come right as rain with a nap.”

She glanced over her shoulder helplessly, hoping against hope that Jon or Richie would stroll up, prayed that this was some weird joke of Richie’s to get her back. It was just his damn style too. Hire some freaking look alike to pay her back for the pranks. It HAD to be a damned prank, no one just walked a few yards and ended up back one hundred years. It defied logic and science both. It wasn’t possible.

She was taken into the exact bedroom she shared with Richie, only it was so different all of a sudden. Her eyes narrowed as she studied the room and found not one thing that reminded her of the present. There were oil lamps instead of electric, no light switches or air conditioning. As a matter of fact it looked as if everything that could prove she was in the year 2008 had vanished as if it had never existed. She moved to the closet knowing she’d find Richie hiding there ready to spring out laughing out a “gotcha” and found only dresses, and not even the ones she’d packed. There were dresses, but she’d never seen them and they were all in heavy brocades or silks. Some looked to be every day wear and some more formal and they ALL looked like they’d fit her to a tee, but they weren’t hers. What the hell was going on?

The lack of air had finally gotten to her, that was all it was. Stupid corset, stupid hoops. She’d gotten too hot and passed out. She’d wake up with Jon or Richie bending over her laughing at how she couldn’t take the pressure of being a southern belle. But why did it all feel so real? Where was her Richie?

Her eyes jerked to the door at a soft knock. Finally! Someone who could make sense of things. “Come in.”

As the door opened, she frowned. It wasn’t Celeste, or anyone she knew. Standing there before her was a girl with coffee colored skin that looked to be all of fifteen years old, and although her clothing was nice, it was extremely worn and looked to be a size or two too big. “Can I help you?”

‘’Oh no ma’am. I’s been sent to help you get comfy for your nap. Mizzus Josephine, she said she rightly declared you gots too hot ma’am. Now you just take hold of that there bedpost and Cissy will do what she wuz trained ta do.”

Lind’s brow arched at the deep south in the girls voice. “I think I can do that myself, um Cissy.’

“oh Lawsy no, iffin I don’ts helps ya Missus Josephine will have my hide.”

Good lord, what kind of woman was running this fundraiser? Well what ever type of person she was she was really into details. She motioned the girl in and graciously allowed for the ‘maid service,’ “So tell me Cissy, how long have you worked for Miss Josephine?”

Cissy glanced at the lady curiously, that was a strange question, but then Miss Livvie was a mighty strange one to begin with. She was always a muttering about time and its ripples. “Lawsy Miz Livvie ya know I been birthed here and done worked here all my life. Done and told you alls dat when Master Stephen gimme to ya.

She closed her eyes at another nail being driven into the coffin of her hope. “Right, I guess you did Cissy.” She grimaced and suffered through the young girl removing the dress; then sighed in relief as ties were loosened and she could breath again. Maybe a nap would be good, Maybe when she woke up she’d be in the right place, or at least have her good sense back.

~~~~~

She glanced up from the bed as the knock sounded at her door. Richie never knocked he just sauntered in. She groaned and pulled the covers up over her head. “Go away!”

“No can do Darlin’.” He leaned against the wall and sighed. Stubborn as always, she’d never fallen in with proper lady behavior before, that was why he’d fallen for her in the first place. “Now let me in Darlin’, I want to talk to you.”

She sighed and pulled herself from the bed, quickly finding what stood for a robe in her closet. Moving to the door she opened it slightly and once again felt the heat and charisma of the Richie look alike wash over her. “Ok talk.”

He crowded past her and into her room before turning, one brow cocking upwards quizzically. “I’m worried about you Livvie.”

She looked up into those eyes, those hauntingly familiar brown eyes and sighed. “I’m fine Ri.. err..Stephen.”

His brow arched, a little smirk playing about his lips. “Yes ma’am you sound totally fine to me.”

Linds shook her head. “Sorry I guess? I’ve just been not feeling like my self for some reason.” Well that was true, she was so not herself right now. Seems she was Olivia, whoever the hell that was.

He tugged her into his arms and brushed a kiss along the top of her hair. “Oh Livvie, its all the arguments isn’t it? It gets to me too, Francois and I never argued before, but ever since this situation arose, we can’t seem to see eye to eye.”

They were arguing? What were they arguing about? She couldn’t say, he’d know something was up then. God what could she say? Then it hit her, he was so much like Richie, and Richie had always said when he and Jon argued he felt so lost because they weren’t on the same wave length. This Stephen had to feel the same. Right? “I can imagine it’s a little bewildering, like a part of you has gone missing.”

“That’s right Darlin’, my best friend and brother and we are on opposite sides of this fight. I’m not sure what I’m going to do.”

Well how about that? She had no idea either.

~~~~~

Richie glanced back the way they had walked his brow furrowing slightly. She was right there just a second ago. Where the hell had Linds gone? Turning to Jon he nudged him slightly. “Hey Frank, you seen Linds?”

He glanced over and noted the worry in his friends gaze. “Naah, but she’s probably off getting lost in the supposed romance of the place man. She’ll show up.”

Richie shook his head. It wasn’t like her to just wander off without telling him. Deep inside something felt wrong. He just couldn’t decide why. Hell they were at a fund-raiser, nothing could go wrong. Right? Right.

As they were herded back inside and into a ballroom for a photo-op his eyes moved over each of the paintings on the walls, he stopped dead. It was another painting of the same two men Linds had pointed out to them earlier, only this time they weren’t alone. His breath caught in his throat and his heart stopped beating. Nah, it couldn’t be. He almost reached out to touch the portrait, the look in the girl’s eyes caught so expertly by whoever had painted her. Loss, sadness, and fear and a glimmer of hope; it was all there in the hauntingly familiar blue eyes.

He shook his head at the fanciful thoughts. It was just too odd that somewhere over one hundred years ago men had lived that looked like him and Jon, but now there had been a woman just like Linds? It was too much to even contemplate. He forced himself away from the portrait as Jon called to him and moved quickly to his side. It was time to present their donation.

15.

“Richie! Jon! You gotta see this!” She moved back to Richie’s side smiling. “It’s just the funniest odd thing.”

Richie turned as she walked up and smiled. “What’s that Darlin’?”

She pointed to the end of the hall. “That painting, it’s almost like it’s you. There was a woman there and she just, well vanished, oh heck just come see.”

Richie chuckled, “People don’t vanish Linds.”

Jon snorted, “Maybe she saw a ghost.” He shrugged and lifted his shoulders in a shrug as Richie gave him an exasperated look. “What? IT IS Halloween. Supposed to be seeing them right?”

“Frank, you’re hopeless you know that?”

Jon grinned as they walked towards the portrait. “Yeah that’s why you stuck around so long my man, cuz I’m hopeless.”

“Ahhh shaddup asshole.”

They stopped in front of the portrait and both men studied it a moment and in tandem laughed, “I don’t see the likeness.”

Lind’s rolled her eyes, laughed then thwapped each one on the shoulder gently. “Sheesh, its like your identical twins, from when you were younger.”

Jon smiled a bit and nodded. “Ok, I’ll grant you it looks like a bit like me when I was younger.”

She leaned in to read the small plaque attached, “Geeze, even the names. That’s Stephen and Francois Ferry circa 1862.” She studied the small framed document on the table. “Seems they were twin brothers; sons of the owners back then, both fought in the civil war on opposite sides and died. Wow how sad.” She glanced over at Richie. Wonder which one is Stephen and which one is Francois? I mean you’re a Stephen too.”

Richie shook his head at the familiarity. “Bet the tall good looking one is Stephen. Bet the short squirt is Francois.”

Jon lifted a middle finger at his friend.

Lind’s turned back to the portrait. “Francois is French for Francis and didn’t you say Jon’s middle name was…”

Richie nodded. “Yeah, that’s why the squirt has to be Francois. It’s a short name.”

Jon shook his head. “And you called me hopeless.”

~~

Before they had time to settle in it seemed they were back downstairs and preparing for a tour of the grounds. As they exited, She lifted her head and inhaled the southern air that seemed steeped in the scent of magnolias and jasmine. “Now that I could get used to.”

Richie smiled as he laced his fingers through hers and listened to the guide as she described the day to day life of a southern plantation. Only his Linds would get lost in the scent of the place instead of the history.

She wandered along paying half attention to how they made soap in the big pot, how each person had a set defined area to take care of, just enjoying the mild fall day and the man beside her, but as they turned to head to the slave houses she her eyes caught the barest glimpse of a lady heading down a small path leading to the back of the plantation.

Letting the group get ahead of her she turned and started off. It looked like the lady from earlier and she wanted to find out how she’d disappeared. Stepping up the pace, quietly cursing the volumes of skirts at her heels she headed towards the woman. “Hey, excuse me, Can I speak to you a moment?”

The woman ignored her or maybe she hadn’t heard. Linds scurried to catch her, intent on attaining the elusive woman and befriending her. As she caught up, she reached out, placing a gentle hand on the woman’s shoulder. ‘Excuse me.” As the woman turned, Linds couldn’t help but smile at the sweet expression on her face.

“Well there you are. I declare, you are one quick filly getting lost like that.” Josephine smiled at the girl and put an arm around her shoulders. “He’s been looking for you all afternoon.”

Lind’s brow arched as the woman guided her back to the front of the house. It had only been five minutes. Richie couldn’t be looking for her THAT hard. She heard the soft “There ya are Darlin’ I’ve been looking ya.” She grinned as his whiskey soft voice washed over her, an instant smile creeping onto her lips, until she looked up.

And there standing before her in all his glory, was a very young looking Richie Sambora. “Rich?” She watched as brown eyes blinked then widened and a worried look crossed over handsome features.

“Darlin’ did you get too much sun? Summer’s here, well its not like the summers in Georgia.”

He watched her back up a step, as fear bloomed in those lovely blue eyes he adored. He’d been lost from the first moment he’d met her at the cotillion, months ago. “Now Liv Darlin’ don’t go getting shy on me now. We’re to be wed you don’t have to act so shy.’

Wed? Shy? What the hell? Who was this guy who looked so much like her Richie? “Look, I don’t get what’s going on, but I don’t like this joke, Richie and Jon wont like it either.” She watched the confusion gathering in the brown eyes and began to wonder exactly what was going on.

He stepped closer to his fiancée and smiled, “You don’t have to make up names to keep old Stephen in control pretty Liv. Already gave my heart to you ya know.” He studied her and wondered what had her so frightened. His Liv was not a shrinking violet. Usually.

She looked behind her, hoping to see the tour group, and saw nothing but grass. Turning back to the man she shook her head. “Just humor me. What’s your name?”

His eyes widened at the question, before he started to smile. She was playing a game, she liked games. “Name is Stephen Darlin, Stephen Ferry.” He glanced up as his brother walked from the front door, “And in case ya didn’t know, that short squirt there is my brother Francois.”

She closed her eyes at the sound of it. He sounded like Richie, coulda been him years ago, but it wasn’t HER Richie. Jesus she’d fallen down Alice’s Rabbit hole. She’d went to Wonderland, only hers looked like the south. Now if the White Rabbit would just show up the party would be complete.

14.

The carriage ride seemed to be over almost before it started. As they turned into the long curved path that led to the plantation she sat up excitedly to stare ahead of her. She’d never seen a plantation before, she couldn’t wait. As they rode under the hanging Spanish moss the dappled driveway grew almost dim, the moss looking like webs of grey hanging over her head. It was almost as if the air grew cooler underneath the trees, so protected from the sun by the moss that clung like gossamer to each branch.

It was if something were alive on the pathway, a heaviness that weighed her spirit down. She shivered as the whisper of something slid over her shoulders, an almost eerie feeling of having been here before, but she hadn’t. She slipped closer to Richie, a trembling hand clasping his as she shivered. “That hanging stuff is spooky.” She glanced up at him, a slight blush on her cheeks.

He shifted his hat up and glanced down at Linds, her usually vibrant face shadowed by the over hanging moss and something that he couldn’t quite define. “yeah it does lend a certain ambiance to the place. “ He leaned over and pressed a kiss to her nose. “But don’t worry Darlin’ I’ll protect ya from the spooky.”

She managed a smile as she leaned against him, her eyes scanning the area as the late autumn heat wave made the afternoon shimmer. Casting her eyes back to the moss she almost swore it glimmered, but that had to be illusion, just the sun peeking through its heavy webbing.

And then the chilliness was gone, replaced with the sparkle of the afternoon brightness as the horses pulled up to the front door. Even the pervasive heaviness seemed to vanish. “Welcome to the St Joseph,” rang out as the horses stopped and liveried men rushed up to help the new arrivals. As they stepped from the carriage her hand slipped back into Richie’s as she looked over the wide porch with its majestic columns. It was almost like Tara from Gone with the Wind. Almost. She could almost see Scarlett on the porch surrounded by all her suitors.

They were ushered into the main foyer, a cool respite from the humid southern afternoon, as the Coordinator soft southern drawl began to wash over them. “Greetings, Welcome to habitats Civil War Recreation for Halloween. You’ll be taken to your suites shortly so you can rest up before the main tour. Of course, if you wish to wander around please feel at leisure to do so. There are horses for riding, and a tour of homes will start tomorrow. Dinner is at 7pm sharp, and yes they dress for dinner.”

Richie grumbled about the hoops yet again. Maybe he could convince her to miss dinner, it had been hours since he’d seen even the slightest bit of her skin and he was jonesing for his lady.

Lind’s snorted as they walked up the curved staircase, her gloved hand sliding over the silken banister appreciatively. Damned if she couldn’t picture herself being swept up ala Rhett Butler and carried up those stairs by Richie. Leaning into him she whispered, “If I wore red velvet….”

Richie grinned and leaned into her, stopping her mid way, “If you wore red velvet, frankly my dear you’d never make it up the stairs.”

She gave soft laugh and shook her head. “Is that all you think about?”

He shrugged, his brown eyes sparkling, “When I look at you, yeah.”

Within moments the attendants had shown them each their doors, but before they could enter Jon cleared his throat. “Dude, before you vanish never to return could I speak to you a moment?”

Richie groaned and turned, his brown eyes spearing through Jon, “Man, it better be good.” He stepped towards his friend, his brow arching, “Well?”

“Just wanna discuss the donation real quick, we’ll get that out of the way so we can enjoy the rest of the event.”

As Jon and Richie quietly discussed things, she wandered along the hall, her hand gently caressing furniture, appreciating its aged patina. Things here had been well taken care of. As she reached the far end of the hall the heaviness she’d felt earlier in the carriage returned, making it almost difficult to breathe. As she turned to go back, the glimmer of something caught her eye.

Turning she saw a woman just at the end of the hallway staring up at a portrait hanging there. She held herself proudly whoever she was, and her dress was gorgeous, with its little seedings of pearls that seemed to shimmer even in the candle light. Making her way towards the end of the hall Linds smiled, preparing to introduce her self. As she reached the halls end the woman turned and smiled, her bright blue eyes glimmering with humor and some undefined knowledge that had the hairs on Lind’s arm raising.

“Hello.” She watched the woman’s eyes brighten as she spoke. Gosh you’d think no one had ever spoken to her before.

She could see her? She, Heavenly father she was SPEAKING to her? She turned her eyes back to the portrait that even now made her heart heavy. Stephen and Francois, she missed them so.

Linds glanced up at the portrait then back to the woman, her eyes shifting back to the portrait suddenly. “You know they look a lot like the people I’m with.”

The woman turned to the girl her eyes widening. She was with someone who looked like her boys? Her head tilted quizzically as she smiled, her eyes widening to show her interest.

Linds turned to point to Jon and Rich who were still deeply engrossed in conversation. “I came with them. The tall dark headed one, well he’s special to me.”

The woman’s eyes widened as she studied the two men. It was Stephen and Francois! As the dark one turned to smile at Linds she noticed then he was much older than her son, but still so much like him. Sweet Mary he was almost a spitting image of what her Stephen would have been had he been older, but when the shorter man stopped talking and looked up she saw her Francois blue eyes staring her way. They were together? But that couldn’t be, they had died at …

Linds turned back to the woman only to encounter air. The woman had simply vanished. Turning around she saw no doors and there was no woman walking back the way she herself had walked. Giving the portrait one last cursory glance she turned and hurried back to Richie. Well that was the damnedest odd thing. Where did the woman go?

13.

She shifted in the in front of the mirror trying desperately to tie the ties of the corset. How on God’s pretty green earth did women EVER live like this? “They had slaves to do all the hard work that’s what,” she muttered as she twisted and turned ineffectively trying for the sashes that ran along the waist of the killer undergarments of a woman from the civil war days. This just wasn’t going to work. How was she going to stay in costume for four days if she couldn’t get a freaking corset on? She hadn’t even started on the yards of hoops or the actual dress, and she still had to do her hair. Glancing at her watch she nearly screamed. She had less than an hour to be ready for the carriage. Jesus.

Just as she was getting ready to scream for Richie a knock sounded on the bedroom door. Slipping on her robe she moved to the door and opened it, ready to start the begging if Richie was on the other side. A brow arched to see a young woman standing at the door.

“Miss Waters? I’m Cecile, I’m to be your dresser for the next four days.”

Lind’s eyes widened, “How did you know?”

Celeste smiled slightly and nodded towards the man standing on the hotel balcony. “A certain kind gentleman had an idea you might need assistance, and all southern ladies always had a maid that accompanied them. I’m to be yours during the fundraiser, if that’s ok?”

She leaned to the side her eyes flickering as she took in the long length of Richie dressed in all his southern plantation owner style. He would think of this, he always seemed to think of everything. She blew him a kiss and mouthed “owe ya one,” before stepping back into the bedroom and allowing the girl entrance. “So you do this often Celeste?”

The young woman grinned, “I do this for a living, work in the fashion design department for a studio. Met Mr. Sambora when they were out there filming once, lucky for you huh?”

Linds grinned, “oh yeah, but then every day since meeting that big goof has been a lucky day.”

Within short order Cecile had her leaning against the wall and was tightening the stays of the corset, which had Linds believing she’d probably never breathe again. “Jesus, how did they breathe or eat back then?”

Celeste just laughed and kept tying the ties. “They didn’t honey, proper southern girls were very restricted.”

Linds pulled at the skirts as her dresser settled the volumes of fabric over her head. “You can say that again.”

~~~~

He looked up as the bedroom door opened and his breath caught in his throat. God damn if she wasn’t gorgeous. Her hair was swept up into some loosely curled type knot with a few stray tendrils teasing that neck he so loved to nibble, and her shoulders were bare. God help him she looked like a true southern belle. He stepped forward and did an exaggerated bow over her hand. Putting a bit of southern drawl into his normal voice he kissed her palm. “Hello there beautiful.”

She curled her hand under his chin and pulled him up, leaning in to attempt a kiss only to be thwarted by the pure volume of her skirts. “Hello there yourself kind sir.” Blue eyes slowly moved over his body and felt her skin flush at how absolutely he fit the costume, from the soft leather of his riding pants to the silky shirt that was, believe it or not left partially buttoned. “You don’t look bad yourself Sir.”

He leaned in to pull her close and started muttering as the multitude of hoops and petticoats kept him a good eight inches from her body. “You are in there somewhere right babe?”

She laughed and slipped an arm through his as they started to the door. “Ya know I’m not so sure anymore, trussed up like a pig to the point I can’t breathe here. No wonder women back then complained of having the vapors.”

They wandered out of the hotel room rented just to get into costume and along the hallway chatting amiably about all the Fundraiser committee had planned. As they reached the elevator they heard a soft “hold on!” Turning Lind’s eyes brightened to see Jon striding towards them, dressed in all the finery a man of the 19th century could muster. He was formal from head to toe and looking pretty darned good. “Ya know Jon, if this old man here hadn’t swept me off my feet…”

Jon’s brow flicked up as he took in Richie’s idea of casual southern wear, and Linds in all her southern belle finery and grinned. “Well thank you ma’am. You two ready?”

Richie slapped Jon on the shoulder and muttered, “As soon as I figure out what the exits on that damned outfit of hers is I will be.”

Jon roared with laughter as the elevator doors opened. “Is that all you can think of my brother?”

Richie’s rolled his eyes and groaned, “Man if Dot was that unapproachable thanks to clothing you’d be bitching too.”

Linds snorted before slowly moving next to Richie, her arm barely reaching his waist. “Just be glad we don’t SLEEP in this stuff Richard.”

His eyes brightened as the thoughts of what the night could bring hit him. “Oh hell baby I’m gonna be living for the nights.”

She smiled and settled for taking his hand as they exited the elevator. Making their way outside her eyes brightened as she took in the old style carriage and the four horses pulling it. “Jiminy Crickets!”

Jon watched as the pure elegance of a horse drawn carriage ride had her eyes shining. She was loving this. As he glanced at Richie, the patient grin on his friend’s face spoke volumes. He’d explained once how he hated the old south and movies from that time, and yet here he was, dressed up in costume and escorting his lady fair. Sometimes it amazed him how far Richie would go for love, but then he understood it, he’d gone the distance a time or two himself for the love of his life.

Richie helped Linds into the carriage; then laughed as she fought with her skirts until they lay obediently around her. Every so often he caught a flash of ankle and it actually teased and thrilled him, that tiny slice of skin covered so carefully by yards and yards of cloth. Hmm, maybe this type of clothing had its bonuses, he knew for sure it would have him in distraction by days end.

She tilted her head as Celeste dashed from the hotel calling her name. “Miss Waters, you forgot your parasol. All good Southern girls have to have their parasol.”

Jon snorted, Richie laughed as Linds blushed and reached for the small barely there umbrella thing. “Well thank you Celeste. Really. What would I be without you?”

Richie glanced at Jon, then at Celeste and muttered, “Naked the way I like you?”

She clicked open the parasol praying it would help hide the blush that threatened. He never hid how he felt, hell she felt the same, but sometimes his speak before think mode managed to throw her. As Celeste called out a see you at the plantation she felt the soft jolt of the carriage beginning to move. She twirled her parasol and looked again, the rolling of the carriage setting alight the excitement that had been building for days.

Richie’s arm slipped around her shoulders as he leaned back, pulling the brim of his hat to shade his eyes. It would figure they’d so something from a time that didn’t have sunglasses. He glanced over at Jon and chuckled, seems he’d had the same idea, his hat securely jammed over his face. “Well this should be fun.”

Lind’s glanced over at him as Jon snorted, her gaze finding two men with hats securely over eyes. “Poor Rock stars.”

12.

Jon groaned and opened up yet another invitation to another fundraiser. God they all wanted him these days. Being known for his philanthropic deeds was nice, but he didn’t do what he did for the glory.

As he flipped the card open he started to smile. Well at least it was one of his favorite charities, Habitat. Reading further his smile widened, well hell this might even be fun to attend. They were holding a fundraiser for Habitat at the St Joseph Plantation in New Orleans, well closer to Vacherie, but still, it was close enough to possibly hit his favorite haunts in the old southern city. He studied the invitation closer and nodded. Four days of festivities, and all of it in costume. Carriage ride tours of the old homes, all with Halloween themes, to culminate in the ball to be held on October 31.

Reaching for his phone he dialed. He could take a few guests, and Richie was always up for a party. Hell he’d even enjoy the costume aspect of it. Staying in a plantation, dressing in old civil war finery? Richie would eat that up. Linds would too. She was a little romantic at heart.

Fingers drummed on his desktop as he waited for his friend to pick up his phone. “You better not be screwing again old man, you’re gonna kill yourself.” He sighed as the phone rang for the fifteenth time, before being picked up as a breathless voice said “hello.”

“Please tell me you weren’t in the bedroom for God sakes.”

Linds rolled her eyes, her laugh teasing the phone as she pulled it to her ear. “Lord no Jon, what do you think we are teenagers?” She grinned as she turned to watch Richie leave the pool. What Jon said was the truth, she couldn’t deny that. Richie was acting younger and younger by the day; and although she knew she had a part in his becoming more himself, she also knew that time was a great healer and that Richie may have been just fine had he not met her. Not that she planned on leaving him now to test the theory.

Jon leaned back in his chair, throwing his booted feet up on his desk. “Well you, no, but ever since my friend met you he’s been acting like a kid again. Of course with him you’re never sure exactly how old he is.”

A rather unladylike snort whispered through the phone lines as Jon’s brows waggled, “What? It’s the fuckin’ truth Lindsay and you know it.”

“And I know you didn’t call just to discuss our love life Jon. What’s up?” Linds reached for an apple and took a bite, her crystalline eyes glancing up and winking as Richie entered the room. Her eyes widened as Jon explained. She’d always wanted to see New Orleans, had always had a thing for civil war stories and movies.

Jon’s brow arched as she exploded into laughter at his invitation. God it wasn’t that funny was it? It was then he heard his friends muffled laugh. “Dammit hand him the freaking phone.”

Linds pulled back and held the phone to Richie’s ear then gasped loudly. “START TALKING!”

“Dean, man! God she’s on the phone for god sakes. Can’t you keep your hands off of her for one minute?” Jon’s feet thunked on the floor as he leaned forward to grab at the invitation.

Richie pulled away and took the phone. “Hell no, I can’t keep my hands off of her and I don’t want to. What’s got your boxers in a bunch asshole?” He waggled his brows at Linds and pulled her in with his free hand. “Come on man, I got things to do, Whatcha need me for huh?”

Jon shook his head, his laugh escaping him, “Can’t get something into a bunch that I never wear my brother. However, what I need you for is simple. Habitat is throwing a fundraiser in New Orleans, four days, in costume in the antebellum South. I want you and Linds to go with me.”

Richie glanced over at the light of his life and saw the excitement bubbling in her eyes. He’d always shied away from anything relating to the Civil War, it had always given him the heebie jeebies for some reason, but the sparkle in her eyes and the damn near excited tone of his best friend’s voice had him stuffing that feeling away. “Sure thing man, I so want to go to a place and have my woman dressed in such a way that it takes me hours to get through it. OW!” Pouty brown eyes fluttered at Linds as he listened to Jon roar in his ear.

“She popped you for that one didn’t she man?”

“Fuck yeah, man she hits HARD too.” He leaned over and brushed a kiss against her cheek. “So when do we need to be ready man?”

Jon glanced at the invitation before speaking. “You have about a week to get all you need ready, oh and prepare your checkbook man; we’re gonna help build a few more homes.”

Richie chuckled and half listened to the list of things they’d need for a week long trip into the past. At the mention of his checkbook he snorted. “This gonna be another Oprah moment Frank?”

Jon laughed, “It just might turn out to be man; we’ll just have to see. Oh and man? You have to arrive at the thing in costume.” He hung up the phone and leaned back, his mind already beginning to skate along as he planned out all he needed to do to for the fundraiser.

Richie groaned as he cradled the phone, his brown eyes wincing. “A costume ball? Me in a stuffed shirt?” He twisted and pulled her into his arms, his lips brushing lightly over her bare shoulder, “Darlin, the things I do for love astound even me.”

She tilted her head to see the apprehension and humor warring in his gaze. “Well I know you’re a Jersey boy, a true Yankee, but most people love Gone with the Wind or Civil War things, well at least the fun romantic stuff, but you don’t why?”

Richie shook his head, “Not sure Darlin, always disliked that era, makes me feel off or uncomfortable.” Hell, how did you tell a decent normal woman that movie always gave him bad dreams? He’d had more than a few over his life, and all surrounding blue coats and hoop skirts. Damn maybe he was losing it in his old age.

She tightened her hug, sensing his unease about this party. She wouldn’t go if it was going to make him feel bad or sad, she’d worked way too hard since meeting him at removing that sadness from his eyes. “We don’t have to go. We can stay here and hand out candy, I’ll be just as happy.”

He placed a finger under her chin and tilted her head up, a slight smile beginning to play on his lips. “Darlin, for you I’d brave hell, I think I can handle a silly civil war party.” He leaned in, his lips sliding over hers sensually. “Might even be fun trying to get you out of all those petticoats after all.”

Lind’s voice went all southern sugar, her bright blue eyes beginning to gleam, “Well I do declare kind Sir, I believe you’ve just propositioned me.”

He groaned at the accent as he pulled her in closer, his own love of affected accents rising to the fore as he turned Rhett Butler on her. Dipping her low he leaned over her his lips just above her ear as he breathed out.“Darlin, you ain’t seen nothing yet.”

11.

She stopped at the head of the stairs, her dark blue eyes shadowing as she studied the house below her. It was quiet, deathly quiet now that the war was on. God in heaven she missed the days before the war, when laughter and music made her house a home. Now? It was just a shell, a building that housed so many memories.

She descended the staircase to the memories of the sounds of her two sons laughing on the verandah. She and Alexis had given up on having children. Their families for ten long years had bemoaned the fact that there would never be a Ferry son to carry on the family name. Why she just had to be less of a woman because she couldn’t get in the family way, but it had never deterred her Alexis. His love stood true. He’d often just laugh and whisper “Hell Darlin, I have all I want right here with you.”

It was that and that alone that had relaxed her. As their lazy life continued along the Mississippi, she finally quit worrying the fact of children and started to enjoy her husband and home. Then and only then, as they contented themselves with their lives had she learned she would have a child. Nine months later to her surprise and her husband’s delight she’d borne twin sons. “One dark, one light, just like you and me Darlin,” had been his happy whisper.

Their lives were made complete with their day and night sons. Although they looked nothing alike, that hadn’t stopped them from forging a friendship that had amazed most people. Where ever Francois was, you would surely find Stephen, through any childhood game or fight they always stood back to back. It was a them versus the world type of thing. They could be fighting like cats and dogs over a toy or a sweet, yet if something came against them, hackles rose and their backs touched as if to say it’s us against you. All of the neighborhood children knew, if you messed with Stephen you had to deal with Francois, and vice versa.

There were times when she even considered the fact that they shared a single soul, so close was their bond. Although they were twins, born bare minutes apart, they were in most aspects as different as night and day; they were always together, always egging each other on, well Stephen more so than Francois, but she knew had it not been for Stephen’s gentle soul, Francois would have been forever lost in a deep seriousness that would have left no time for fun.

Stephen was the romantic one, finding love and romance in the simplest things, from a flower to a song to whichever young lass had his fancy. He often spent his free time simply strumming his guitar and regaling his friends with humorous tales. Francois on the other hand, he was the business man who kept the plantation running even after the death of Alexis. Had it not been for Francois they would have all languished.

She moved gracefully to the front door, her crinolines swishing gently as she took in the emptiness there. Mercy she missed them so. Closing her eyes she opened them only to see her sons as a favorite memory overwhelmed her. One was tall and dark, with deep brown eyes that were always flashing in mirth, the other was slender and a bit shorter, with dark hair but startling blue eyes. Stephen had taken after his father’s side of the family, tall and lanky with dark hair and eyes but Francois he had taken after her side. He was all wiry strength, slender with dark hair that tended to lighten in the Louisiana sun, and bright blue eyes that at times were eerily like her mothers. That gaze of his could see right through you at times.

That is how their life had gone, full of love, laughter and music. There had always been the music, from the time her boys could reach the piano and wrap a hand around a guitar. Compositions of their own, classics, none of it eluded her boys abilities. Her eyes lifted to look over the barren fields of her home, a barrenness caused by war and strife that never seemed to end, the very war that had from its inception caused a rift that she feared would never be resolved. This one war had finally found a way to fracture what she thought would never shatter, the love of brother for brother. As she turned to reenter her now silent home that final day played out in her memory.


“How can you think abolishing slavery is a good way to go Stephen? Damn it man, how can we till the crops? How can we harvest the cane?” Francois had paced in front of his brother, who for all intents and purposes was more involved in a melody.

“You could hire them Francois. Jesus they are people too you know.” Stephen looked up at his brother, his frequent and goofy smile surfacing. “We have enough money to actually do that you know.”

And it had gotten worse from there. The daily arguments grew louder driving wedges between the brothers that would never be resolved. She had often stepped in between the two young men who outstripped her in size just to keep the bloodshed from happening all over her furniture.

The day came though when Stephen had finally had enough and had ridden off on his horse, sending word back that he’d joined the Northern army. When Francois received the word his eyes lifted to his mothers, torment in their gaze as he finally whispered that he could do no less than stand up for his convictions. On that very day she’d lost both sons, to a war she knew would never do anything more than deprive them all.

~~~

The day was humid, too humid for decent God fearing men to be out on a field screaming and waving guns. Everywhere he looked there was carnage as his friends were felled one by one. God he regretted ever joining this idiocy, didn’t even remember now what had gotten him to make such a foolish decision. Damn him, Francois could always make him so mad, always about the work or making plans for the future and never taking time to just enjoy things. That’s what his aim in life had always been, soothing his brother, teasing him into enjoying things, if only for a little while. He’d always thought they’d live their lives out on the verandah of the St. Joseph watching their families grow but that wasn’t to be it seemed. Damn he was stupid for joining this war, and the longer he had to trudge through blood and bodies the more sure he was that he should have just let his brothers anger show him the truth, because now he had no doubts that Francois had been right all along.

He had left and went North when the war had started, joining the side that had seemed right in the beginning at least. He’d made a pretty good soldier, even moving up in rank as the war escalated. He wasn’t sure why, unless it was because he never left his men to just co-ordinate in the safety behind lines. Holding his bayonet aloft he called out in his raspy as whiskey voice for his men to forge ahead, and watched as each one rallied and streamed over the field.

He had long ago forgotten exactly why they were fighting, day in day out all he knew now was blood, death and mayhem, and for what? To abolish something that had been an institution for centuries? The South hadn’t come up with the idea of slavery; they had just perfected its use. So many claimed it was because slaves were treated badly, but he knew better than most that the bad slave owners were a scarcity. Good plantation owners knew that their success lay in the health of their slaves and took big steps to keep them happy.

Dammit Francois had been right. They needed their work force to plant the cane and harvest it. He’d heard enough of the factories of the north, and the pittance those people worked for equated to slavery in his weary mind. He should have stayed home, taken more of an interest in the plantation and stayed out of this excuse for a war.

He winced as the heaviness hit, startled brown eyes glancing down to see red blooming on his blue uniform as he fell from a horse no longer able to move. Well hell they’d shot his favorite horse from beneath him. He rolled quickly and tried to stand only to fall to his knees. As his eyes dimmed his heart screamed in frustration. He wanted to tell him he was sorry, wanted to make things right. He didn’t want to meet his maker before things were right with his brother. His tall gangly body slipped into the mud and gore of the field in Gettysburg, his brother’s name upon his lips as his eyes closed a final time.

~~~

He sat his horse, back ramrod straight as dull blue eyes surveyed the battle raging just beyond the valley. It was all so stupid. The North was winning, the South was being pushed to its final legs and out there somewhere in the mass of blue clad soldiers his brother was probably laughing and joking, urging his fellow soldiers to take that final stand.

Why had he pushed him that day? He should have known he’d take a stand. He always did. Usually that stand was beside him, or at his back protecting him, but no longer. Dammit Stephen, we were supposed to go old on the porch of the St. Joseph! He shook his head, trying to clear the threatening tears as he barked out the final orders of the day.

He urged his horse forward, his bayonet flashing as he cut a swath through blue clad bodies. He’d long ago quit thinking of them as men with families or humans, he had to or he’d never survive the damned war. As each blue body fell it simply meant he’d get home sooner, to his brother, to his mother and to the plantation which ran so deep within his blood.

He felt the shudder as his horse stumbled, his quick reflexes flinging him from a sturdy horse felled in the line of duty. Blinking sweat and dust from his eyes he pushed up from the ground, startled blue eyes falling on a body that was lying next to him. Dear Jesus no, it couldn’t be! He crawled swiftly to the body and turned it over, a roar of pain blasting from his heart as he looked upon the visage of someone he’d despaired ever seeing again. A shaking hand reached out to gently brush stubborn brown bangs from the non seeing eyes of his brother. “Oh Stephen!” As the tears began to fall the pain in his chest intensified. Putting his hand to his chest he looked up only to see the rabid eyes of a blue coated soldier leering his way.

“Southern scum, trying to raid the body of my fallen comrade.” As the stream of rancid tobacco juice streamed his way, Francois lifted a hand in an entreaty. “It’s my brother for God sakes. I just wanna move his body!”

The Rebel snorted and leveled his gun. “Fuckin’ Yankee. Think I believe that? You leave my colonel’s body be.”

He felt the bullet before he ever heard it, the stain of red gathering as he slumped over the body of his dead brother, their blood mingling in the heat of the humid summer’s day. His final fading thought a simple wish to be home, with his brother and mother, and whole.

~~~

A small hand fisted over a heart now broken as a double shaft of pain pierced the soul of Josephine Ferry, and she knew in that instant that her boys would not be coming home. Falling to her knees her hand reached out to settle over Stephen’s favorite guitar, her eyes closing. She’d never had a chance to help them repair their rift. She’d never had a chance to bring them together. It was over and the stupid damned war had won.