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Kelloch. Who ever he was, had slept there, and she knew it in her bones that he had dreamed of her too. Her baby’s father had slept in a bed that was so old, it was blocked by velvet ropes. Katherine felt herself slip into a chair at the edge of the room, and sob. For some desperate reason she was mourning him. She had loved him, she thought a bit wildly. She had loved him, and she couldn’t be with him. Time separated them in more ways than she could bare to count. ‘What the bloody hell?!?’ A man’s shout brought her out of her sob, and scrambling for the door. ‘I’m sorry. I thought that the chair was all right to sit it. I didn’t realize it was an antique!’ She said as she scrambled for the door. ‘Who the bloody hell are you?’ At the inquisition, she stopped and turned a bit sheepishly back to the room. ‘Katherine St. Claire. I’m really sorry. Do you need to see my ticket?’ When she looked up at the man, she almost fell back. He was dressed in early nineteenth century noblemen. That would make them just that much better.They went up the stairs just in time to see the men coming in from the barn, a bucket of milk in hand. "You guys go wash up," Doris called to them. "Breakfast is almost ready for ya." Bruce, who was carrying the bucket of milk, handed it to Annie, and received a hot, smoldering kiss in return. "Just a little preview of what's to come, Babe. The main attraction and matinee will come later." Bruce stood, dumbfounded, but delighted, at the reception. "I'll take ya to get yer pickup in a little bit. I need ta see Jerry, my own self. We can go in my car. There's somethin' we need ta talk about, on the way." All Bruce could do was nod back at her. He was in shock. The men came back from washing up, and saw a table full of delicious food waiting for them. Eggs, over easy, sausage, bacon, a huge platter of some of the best smelling hash brown potatoes they had seen in a while, blueberry pancakes, fresh home-made butter, ice- cold milk, straight from.
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