Chapter 50 New Orleans—Skye
New Orleans—Skye
Sunlight coaxed Skye from the tangle of her bed around one o’clock.
She preferred to stay in and listen to music rather than shop with Kenzie, Marcelle, Kaitlyn, and Penny, claiming she needed to rest her voice for the show.
Tonight, every note had to be flawless, especially if that talent scout reappeared.
Marcelle volunteered to dress Skye for the stage with a show-stopping outfit.
As a newcomer to the century, Skye trusted her friend’s judgment to find a dress guaranteed to captivate the audience.
Her downtime clothes still felt tight and revealing, but seeing the twinkle in Remy’s eyes whenever he looked at her gave her the confidence to wear whatever Marcelle selected.
He still hadn’t kissed her deeply like he had in Chicago, despite her fluttering eyelashes.
If he was waiting for her to adjust to the twenty-first century, then he could stop.
It would take her weeks, maybe months, to absorb the shift of a hundred years.
One hundred years! What would her parents say if they knew the chasm that had swallowed them had also swallowed her? The thought landed like a needle prick.
She thumbed through her phone, scrolling through the endless stream of a Spotify library that seemed to contain the entire world’s history of music.
She drifted from the synthetic beats of pop to the rhythmic urgency of hip-hop, the electric wail of rock and roll, the melancholy of the blues, and the twang of country.
Yet, she always returned to the familiar sound of jazz.
To think of Louis Armstrong as a legendary figure, a voice suspended in time and echoing across an entire century, seemed inadequate to capture his genius.
The image of him, head thrown back, his infectious, gravelly laugh rumbling like distant thunder, sent shivers tracing down her spine.
The front door pushed open, pulling her from her musing. Her head snapped up, expecting the return of the shoppers. Instead of the girls, Charlotte and Archibald strode in.
Skye hopped off the barstool and rushed over to him, but before she threw her arms around his neck, she remembered his injury and kissed his cheek instead. “How do you feel?”
“Much better. I heard about the show last night. I can’t wait to see it.”
“It was so much fun, and a talent scout was there. I hope he comes back.”
Remy joined them, kissed Charlotte, and gave Archibald an easy hug. “Glad to see you moving around. I heard Trainer Ted worked you out this morning. How’d that go?”
“I pretended it was going better than it was. I knew Trainer Ted would have influence over Dr. Mallory, and I wanted her to be impressed.”
Charlotte let out a warm, honeyed chuckle.
“I hate to tell you this, but you can’t fake it with Trainer Ted.
He knew within two minutes how you were feeling based on the pain he saw in your eyes.
You can’t hide anything from him. But he didn’t think a trip would hurt if you had someone around to make sure you didn’t overdo it. ”
“Damn. I thought I was a better actor than that.”
“Hey, Archibald,” Clay said, stepping out of the bathroom. “Come sit over here. We’re watching SEC basketball. I know it’s not your favorite, but we are in the South right now.”
“I can miss a Mid-American Conference game today. Who’s winning?”
“Kentucky, of course.”
To Skye, this was all Greek, but the men bonded over it, and as soon as she figured out what was happening, she’d join Remy in cheering for his team. “Did Braham come with you?” she asked Charlotte. “Or is he trying to open Capone’s safe before David?”
“He took an Uber from the airport to the hotel. Elliott and Cullen were waiting for him. Those three are inseparable.”
“Why is that?”
“Long story, but Braham and Cullen have been friends since they were children in Scotland. They immigrated together, went to college and law school together, and both left the nineteenth century to live here with the women they loved.”
“How’s Elliott connected?”
“Their relationship to him stems from the one he has with his goddaughter, Kit, who married Cullen. Also, Meredith is Cullen’s four times great-grandchild.”
Skye shook her head. “Oh, my God. Time travel makes life so complicated. It’s going to take me a while to figure it out.” She pointed toward the TV. “Just like that ballgame.”
“The guys will help you.”
Remy had carried the remote with him, and he stood there, arms crossed, watching the game, his neck tense. “If Kentucky doesn’t win this game, they woan be the number one seed in the SEC Tournament.”
“How much time’s left?” Charlotte asked.
“Two minutes in the first half.”
“Which means it could be an hour or two.” Charlotte looped her arm with Skye’s. “I want to know what you think so far about this crazy world we live in, where grown men scream at TVs.”
Skye cupped her hands over her mouth and giggled. “Why do they do that? No one can hear them except us.”
“It makes little sense. But the guys are having fun.”
“Can I get you something to drink? Wine, beer, water. That’s funny. I’ve never offered water to anyone before.”
“Water for me, thanks.”
Skye grabbed two bottles from the refrigerator and handed one to Charlotte. “Drinking water out of a plastic bottle is odd. What’s wrong with a glass of tap water?”
“A bottle is cold and convenient, and we can take it with us. I carry a tumbler full of ice water with me wherever I go, but I left it on the plane.” She opened the screw cap and took a drink. “Is there a quiet place where we can talk?”
“The only quiet I can find is using those ear devices. Then I only hear music I want to listen to.”
“AirPods,” Charlotte said. “I use them when I exercise. It takes my mind off the pain.”
Skye cocked her head. “Why do you exercise if it hurts you?”
“That’s a good question. The answer is, because it feels so good when I stop!”
That was head-scratching. “I don’t get it.”
“I enjoy the post-exercise high. You’ll soon discover it for yourself.”
“I don’t think so. Trainer Ted is intimidating. I think all I’ll feel is relief that I don’t have to be in the same room with him.”
Charlotte’s laugh was a gentle ripple in the room. “You’ll soon love him as much as the rest of us do.”
Skye didn’t think that would ever be possible, but this was a strange place with strange customs, so it could well come true.
“There’s a sitting room upstairs. We can try to talk there.
Kenzie, Marcelle, Penny, and Kaitlyn are shopping, and I don’t think any of the men are going to leave their seats except to go to the bathroom or the refrigerator. ”
“They’ll take a longer break during halftime and make sandwiches unless they order food for delivery.”
“Then let’s go up there before that happens.” They entered the room with another television blaring. Skye covered her ears. “Do you know how to turn this one off? I’ve seen Remy with those remote thingies, but I don’t know how to use them.”
Charlotte picked it up, pushed a button, and the television turned off.
“Whew! There are so many things to learn about. I just discovered that Louis Armstrong is a legendary artist. I can’t believe his music has lasted this long.
” Skye settled into her seat, ankles neatly crossed and knees held together, hoping to project the image of a reserved woman, a quality Remy had used to describe Charlotte.
Charlotte’s gaze, sparkling blue, settled on Skye. “Armstrong is one of our favorite artists. Did you meet him in Chicago?”
“I heard his Hot Five band several times, but never got to meet him. If my father had been alive, I’m certain it would have happened.”
“What killed him?” Charlotte inquired, her voice soft with curiosity.
“A car accident a week after my mother passed away.”
“Tell me about your mother,” Charlotte pressed gently, leaning in. “What kind of cancer did she have?”
Skye instinctively wrapped her arms around her waist, a physical barrier against the unexpected question.
Of all the paths their conversation could take, why this one?
“She had breast cancer. What happened to her was tragic, and now that I know she was from the 1970s, it makes me even sadder. The treatment available to cancer patients had to have been more advanced and might have saved her life.”
“Breast cancer treatment has come a long way since your mother went through it. The five-year survival rate is around ninety-one percent, and it depends on the stage. Meredith wouldn’t mind me telling you she had breast cancer nearly thirty years ago.”
“Meredith?” Skye sighed, her posture slumping as her hands clasped in her lap.
“She had two different cancers and had reconstructive surgery on both breasts.”
“My mother wasn’t that lucky. The doctors performed a radical mastectomy and radiotherapy. She was so disfigured that she wouldn’t let anyone see her without clothes on. Not even when she was dying. She survived for a few years, but most of those days were painful.”
“I’m so sorry to hear that. It must have been difficult for you and your father.”
“He felt guilty, and even though the doctors told him there was nothing he could have done, he still felt responsible. Now that I know the brooch stranded them in the early 1900s, I understand his guilt. I wish I could return them to their rightful place.”
Charlotte held Skye in a sustained look that stretched a moment too long, a silent appraisal that sent a current of unease rippling through Skye.
“You have something on your mind, Charlotte, and you’re reluctant to mention it.
I don’t mind talking about my parents or my life in the past, but I sense it is a different matter. What’s wrong?”
“I’m not one to soften my bedside manner when talking to patients. Some think I’m blunt and impassionate, but I try to be honest and answer all questions patients have, even if they’re not ready to hear the truth.”