her garden or better yet, riding her stallion. She wasn’t interested in catching a young man’s eye, but that didn’t mean she went unnoticed by them.
Recently she’d begun receiving invitations for outings with young men. They asked if she’d go driving, or if they could walk her home from church, or come calling. She’d turned them all down without reservation, Sarah had told her all about the jealous looks she’d received from those who considered her competition, making Elizabeth laugh. As if she cared what anyone thought. Those simpering girls were welcome to all of the men, if they could figure out how to attract them.
It seemed that all her friends ever did was giggle about some stupid man. This one was so strong, and that one was so handsome. They didn’t impress Elizabeth one bit. She didn’t need a man because everything he could do, she could do just as well, if not better, thanks to her uncle’s teaching. Of course most people didn’t know that about her. For her aunt’s sake, most people considered Elizabeth a lady of the first degree. Most people were wrong.
The two girls had grown up together, and Sarah was one of the few people who knew about Elizabeth’s unladylike behavior. When they had been much younger, Elizabeth had persuaded her to try a few antics herself. Climbing into the hay mow, jumping onto the piles of newly mowed hay on the barn floor below. Discarding their skirts and abundance of petticoats in hot weather, swimming in the river in only their shifts. Lately, Sarah had been trying to get Elizabeth to act more ladylike even when they were alone, and Elizabeth resented it.
She watched as the other girls she had known since childhood entered the fortune teller’s tent one by one. Elizabeth tried not to roll her eyes when they burst out giggling about husbands and the amount of children they would someday have. Listening and smiling along with the rest, she didn’t take part in the discussions. Among the girls, Elizabeth was the only one who still outwardly professed not to care for men.
Since turning eighteen, she had begun having the strangest dreams, waking up with her bed sheets tangled around her body, her skin flushed, her breath rapid. A dark-haired man constantly invaded her dreams, but she could never see his face. Even now, thinking of the dreams, she felt her skin tingle.
Discreetly, Elizabeth began studying men, fascinated by their strong, hard bodies so unlike a woman’s. Almost a year ago she and Sarah had been out walking near the river when they had heard an unusual amount of splashing coming from that direction and had investigated.
Shocked to see the naked bodies of the field hands carousing in the water, the girls watched as the men washed after spending the hot summer day in the hayfield. Sarah and Elizabeth were captivated as one after another muscular male body frolicked in the cool river water, never suspecting they might be observed by two innocent girls.
Swearing never to reveal to a living soul what they had seen, both girls had been fascinated by the sight. Neither had ever been able to look at any of those men again without blushing. Thinking back, Elizabeth realized that it was soon after that event when her dreams had started. A scream of laughter broke through her thoughts, bringing her back to the present.
Sarah walked toward her with a grin, her eyes twinkling, and Elizabeth knew her face must show how much she wished she was anywhere but her current location.
“It’s your turn,” she said with a nudge. “Find out if you’re ever going to marry, and see if you can get her to say to whom. She as good as told me I would marry Billy Adams.”
Elizabeth gave her a skeptical look. “Poor Billy,” she said dryly, and Sarah laughed.
“Go on Elizabeth. I, at least, want to know what she says,” Sarah urged. “Perhaps Mr. Carver should be encouraged after all.”
“If she suggests I marry that preening rooster, I’ll know she couldn’t possibly have second sight.”
At Sarah’s urging, Elizabeth reluctantly pushed aside the curtain serving as a door to the small, dark booth and plopped down in a rickety chair. She faced a wrinkled, old lady dressed in black with a brightly-colored scarf covering her hair. As Elizabeth put her money on the table, the old gypsy captured her gaze with glittering black and oddly-familiar eyes.
“You are very unhappy, aren’t you, child?” she asked, ignoring the money.
Her voice crackled with a strange accent, sending shivers up Elizabeth’s spine. Coming into the tent had been a bad idea.
“No.” She glanced at the door.
“You’re lying!” Her harsh voice startled Elizabeth. “You don’t yet realize this.”
Thanks to her doting aunt and uncle she was happy with her life and the freedom she had. Elizabeth never wanted to marry, certain that marriage would curtail her freedom.
“Are you saying that if I marry Jonas Carver I’ll be happy?” Elizabeth knew how these fortune tellers worked and would give her an ‘out.’ The faster she could leave this tent the better.
“Bah!” the woman spat into the rug-covered floor, shocking Elizabeth. “That man is naught to you.”
Nothing about this visit was going the way she’d envisioned, and she began to wonder what was really going on.
The old woman peered deep into Elizabeth’s eyes, and Elizabeth found that somehow she couldn’t look away.
“Stay away from Mr. Carver. He will bring naught but pain,” she advised. “I speak of another. Your soul is sad and feels betrayed and alone because he has not come. Even now you seek him.” The gypsy sat back with a sigh but didn’t release Elizabeth’s gaze.
Elizabeth frowned. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean, I haven’t lost anyone, certainly not a man.” She shook her head with the beginnings of annoyance.
The wrinkled eyes sparkled with patient amusement.
“My dear child, you fail to understand. I speak of your soul mate, he whom you are intended to love and become one with in every lifetime. You are meant to find each other. It’s part of your destiny.”
The old gypsy parted her lips in a toothless grimace, but her eyes showed kindness and tenderness. It was the only reason Elizabeth didn’t immediately run away.
“You haven’t met him yet in this life,” the gypsy continued to explain gently, “and he’s past due. He’s never been this late before, he should have come by now. You know this,” she paused to tap her chest, “in here, you know.”
Elizabeth shook her head in protest once again, ready to leave, but stopped short as her hand was grabbed in a surprisingly iron-like grip. She sat where she was, looking down at her lap, her stomach churning nervously as she wondered what the old woman meant. Was she talking about the dreams? She was curious enough that she didn’t immediately demand the woman release her so she could storm out and berate Sarah for making her waste her time this way.
Glancing up she saw the fortuneteller’s eyes had closed, a look of intense concentration on her face. Elizabeth felt her own eyes slipping closed and realized abruptly she was no longer in her own body. Nor was she in the fortune teller’s small tent at the circus.
Looking around, Elizabeth saw she was in a field she didn’t recognize with people surrounding her. On closer inspection, she recognized they were all soldiers.
She saw the fortuneteller. At least she thought it must be her since she was holding her hand. This woman was much younger and beautiful, with long black hair and a bright smile.
“Look.” The fortuneteller pointed toward a group of men dressed in Union blues. “Do you see him?”
Elizabeth did. He was holding a long rifle and staring out into the field, his jaw clenched. She knew him immediately. How strange! Curiosity took hold, and thinking she might speak to him, she started forward. Feeling a tug on her arm she stopped as the fortuneteller pulled her back.
“Watch,” she directed. “We will see why he has yet to come to you.”
Elizabeth