Traveler by L.E. DeLano (chromebook ebook reader TXT) 📗

and his knowing grin makes it clear that he’s figured out just what I’m remembering. I clear my throat, stepping around him.

“There you are, love.” He points toward the mirror on the wall. “Bon voyage.” He makes a grand, flowery gesture with his hand that almost makes me laugh out loud.

“Good meeting you, Finn. Again.”

“You won’t easily be forgotten, Jessa.” He reaches for my hand, bringing it to his lips. I stare at him a moment, trying hard not to like him so much. He’s entirely too charming, this Finn. And he knows it, too.

I shake my head to break his spell, and then I pull my hand from his and put it to the mirror, staring hard at the other Jessa. As my fingers push through, my mind can’t help but say it:

Lucky girl.

16

On the Bridge

I sink back into the rocking chair with a long, exaggerated sigh. Holy crap.

I take a deep breath in, grateful that I can do so without restriction. How in the world can women still be in corsets in a modern age? No wonder I was ready to run off. I still have a vague memory of my fiancé, with his pasty skin and receding hairline. He’s nice enough, in a bland sort of way, but he’s in his midthirties and nowhere near as exciting as Finn, who is my age.

Finn is very young for a ship’s captain—he inherited the ship after his father’s death, but he’s already making a name for himself. He operates as a privateer, serving Her Majesty’s interests and bearing a letter of marque and reprisal that allows him to board unregistered vessels, or those deemed to be carrying contraband cargo. His ship is one of the fastest solar schooners on the water.

In short, he’s a pirate. A legal pirate, but a pirate all the same.

I can’t help but laugh at myself, getting all fluttery over Pirate Finn. Good God.

I glance down at the papers on my lap and see that I’ve apparently gone shopping while I was away. There’s a pink paper bag with raffia handles sitting on my lap from Baubles Ladies’ Boutique on Main Street. I never shop there. I pretty much buy everything at the mall, but Baubles is only a few minutes’ walk from here. It figures she’d go shopping.

My jaw drops as the memories rush in, and I reach into the bag.

Inside is the scantiest, laciest bra and underwear set I’ve ever seen, in a light shade of pink with darker pink ribbons. There’s also a matching garter belt and pale-pink silk stockings.

The other Jessa had decided to do some exploring, reveling in the corset-less freedom of blue jeans and a comfy T-shirt. She’d stopped at the drugstore first, eager to try chewing gum, before she moved on to Baubles, fascinated by all the varieties of pants and short skirts. She’d discovered the scandalous lingerie section in the back, and once she’d overcome her initial shock, she brazenly thought she was doing me a favor. My mind floods again with some very specific memories of her Finn.

I hear the historical society lady in the other room on the phone and push everything back down in the bag, embarrassed to be seen with it. The receipt flutters to the floor, and I pick it up to put it in with the rest, but my jaw drops again.

“Eighty-four dollars!” I say in outrage. “You spent eighty-four dollars? On this?”

She’d even used the Visa gift card my dad gave me for my birthday! I had been saving that to use for Christmas!

Great. Now I’ll have to stop there on the way home and return this crap. I wad the bag up, shove it down into my backpack, and pull out my notebook again.

I guess it was too much to hope she’d be sitting here taking notes while I was kissing her boyfriend. I wonder if she’s mad at me. And I’m getting warm again remembering it all.

“Focus, Jessa.” I shake my head at myself and reach down for the stack of papers that are now on the floor. I eventually find a story about a young girl who haunts the creek behind the public library, where she supposedly drowned herself over a hundred years ago after discovering she was going to have the mayor’s illegitimate child.

My eyes slide back to the mirror.

I probably have enough information to write the article. I need to get out of here and away from this stupid mirror and its memories. I stand up, carefully placing the newspapers back on the shelf in a neat pile. Maybe I should head over to the library. I might be able to find more on this story, especially since a former mayor was involved. Then I can take some pictures of the creek behind it to add to the article. Danny normally volunteers on Saturday, but today is the library’s birthday party, and he should be finishing up soon. I can walk him home.

I peek my head in the doorway to the adjoining room and thank the woman who helped me, assuring her that I have found what I need. She tells me to be sure and come back for the ghost tour, and I promise to spread the word about it.

It’s a short walk over to the library, and I decide to get my pictures first before I go in. Knowing me, I’ll get sucked into researching and forget that it’s going to be dark in an hour.

I make my way out of the library, following the slope of the back lawn, and then I walk along the creek until it hits its deepest point, right around the old stone bridge. It was once used to connect Main Street to Greaver Avenue, but it was deemed unsound for regular vehicle traffic sometime in the seventies, because it floods when the creek gets high. You can walk on it, though, and people still fish off it from time to time.

I snap a few shots of