“Stop inventing things and just tell me how we’re going to find a way back to our own time,” Mark said as he wiped the tears from his eyes.
“I don’t know. We still don’t have any clue how we even got here,” Dave countered.
“That storm, or whatever it was, clearly brought us here. We have to assume a similar storm can take us back.”
“I think you mean hope. We can’t assume anything at this point.”
“Come on,” Mark said, frustration filling him. “You’re the one who’s always talking about having faith. Don’t let me down now.”
“I’m sorry. I’m just barely crawling out of the grave. That alone feels like a massive miracle to me and it’s hard to wrap my head around anything else at this point.”
“Well, wrap your head around this. We’re going home. I don’t care what it takes or how long it takes, but we will get there. We have to.”
Dave chuckled. “When we do, this will make one heck of a story. We’ll be famous.”
“That’s right! Now you’ve got the proper attitude.”
“The only question is, which one of us is going to write it?”
“You’re the educated one, I’ll leave it to you,” Mark said. “I just want to go home to my wife.”
Dave chuckled, “Says the man with a couple of Ph.D.’s.”
“You know me. I don’t like to write.”
“It is a lost art.”
“There, sorted. You’ll write our heroic story of survival and time travel and all of it. I’ll go home to my family where I belong.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Dave said, actually smiling.
“There, that looks like the old Dave I know. You were really starting to worry me.”
“I was starting to worry me,” his friend admitted.
“We still have to figure out what to do. Sailing The Guardians is out of the question, especially given everything else. There’s no way we can repair it,” Mark said. “That hull is toast.”
“Agreed.”
“So we need to get our hands on another boat and get back out there on the ocean. We need to track down the fog and the storm that brought us here so we can get back to our time.”
“You know, it’s possible that even if we encounter the same anomaly, and that’s highly unlikely, it won’t take us to the future as we want but will send us further back into the past.”
“I’m trying not to think about that,” Mark admitted.
~
Sally woke up and out of habit reached for Mark. Her searching fingers only found his pillow, though. She sat up slowly, trying to clear the cobwebs from her head. She reached for her phone and froze when she saw the date.
It was their wedding anniversary and Mark was not there.
“Happy Anniversary, Baby. I’ll see you soon,” she whispered out loud.
She got up, showered and got dressed. She went into the kitchen and set about figuring out her day. In a few moments she would wake up the girls and get breakfast started.
As she sat sipping a cup of coffee she tried to organize her thoughts. The doorbell rang and she went to see who it could possibly be so early in the morning.
She opened the door and was startled when a young man thrust a massive bouquet of purple tulips at her. Before she could say anything, he was gone. She closed the door and walked into the kitchen, her heart in her throat. Mark always gave her purple tulips on their anniversary, as it had been their wedding color. She wondered where these had come from.
She put the bouquet down on the kitchen counter and found the card. Her heart leapt into her throat as she read it.
For my darling wife, Happy Anniversary. Forever yours, Mark.
18
Sally’s hand froze as she stared at the card. It was typewritten, so she couldn’t see her husband’s handwriting, but there was his name as clear as day. Purple tulips were their flower. He had given them to her on their first date. She’d carried them at their wedding. He’d given them to her every anniversary since then.
She looked at the name of the florist, Petal Perfect. It sounded familiar to her for some reason. She grabbed her phone and called them.
“Good morning, Petal Perfect,” an older gentleman said when he answered the phone.
“Hello. This is Sally White. I just received some purple tulips.”
“Yes, Mrs. White, Happy Anniversary. Was there something wrong with the flowers?” he asked.
“No, they’re lovely, thank you. But the card says that they’re from my husband.”
“Of course. Mr. White prepays every year for the next year’s bouquet. He jokes that it’s so that he can never forget your anniversary. Trust me, though, that’s one husband who would never forget, no matter what. He’s head over heels for you. You’ve got a good one there.”
“So what you’re saying is he paid for these last year?”
“Yes.”
“I see,” she said, her heart dropping in disappointment. It was ridiculous, but for a moment she had let herself hope he’d somehow made it back somewhere and had sent the flowers before calling—or better yet, showing up at home. He wouldn’t have done that, of course, but she was grasping at every straw she could.
“Is something wrong?” the older man asked, his voice kind.
“Mark’s boat was…lost at sea…a few weeks ago,” she said, struggling to get the words out. “I just thought…”
“Oh, Mrs. White, I’m so sorry. He was a wonderful man,” he said, sounding shocked and saddened.
“Thank you.”
“If there’s anything I can do…” he said, letting his words trail off.
She was touched at the show of kindness from a stranger. Then again, it sounded as if he’d had at least some dealings with Mark for the past few years. She took a deep breath. She was only now beginning to understand how many lives Mark had touched. He’d been such a special man.
No. He is such a special man. She could not—would not—give up.
“That is very kind of you. I really do appreciate the flowers,” she said. “It was just startling.”
“I can imagine. I remember the first time I met your husband. He couldn’t have been more than fourteen or so. One day he came into my shop all excited and nervous. He told me he was looking for flowers for a very special girl. Naturally, I suggested roses. He said that everyone did that and that he wanted something special, something which would make it look as if he’d put a lot of thought into it. He told me they were finally going on their first real date and she was a princess. He was drawn to the tulips and I suggested purple, the color of royalty, since he’d said she was a princess. He seemed so happy when he’d decided on them. A few years later, he showed me the engagement ring he’d selected for her when he came in to order more purple tulips. I can tell you that he has always loved you and that it has always warmed my heart to see just how devoted he was to you.”
“That means so much to me,” she said. “Thank you for sharing that with me.”
“It’s the least I can do. And I know if there is any way on this earth, he will find his way home to you.”
“I hope so,” she said, wondering why he would say such a thing.
“Please, do let me know if you hear anything. Mark was more than just a customer. I considered him a friend.”
“I will,” she promised.
She finally hung up the phone and her heart was full. She felt like crying, but instead, she made herself smile as she pressed the tulips to her face and inhaled deeply. Wherever he was, Mark was still looking out for her, thinking about her. She could tangibly feel it as she stood there holding the flowers he had sent her.
Flowers from the past.
It was ironic, but at the same time terribly poetic.
After a minute, she got a vase out of a cabinet, filled it with water and carefully arranged the tulips in it. They were the most beautiful tulips she had ever seen. As she stared at
them, she could feel Mark’s love wrapping around her, warming her heart.
She smiled.
“Happy Anniversary, Mark,” she whispered again, this time with hope in her heart.
~
Mark had been struggling to keep track of the number of days they’d been gone. As far as he could tell, they had been thrown back a hundred and forty years and in a different month altogether from the one in which they’d left. By his calculations, though, back home it was their wedding anniversary.
Which made it fitting that today was their first attempt to make it home.
He and Dave had managed to requisition a small, rickety fishing boat. The thing was barely seaworthy and was far more likely to kill them than transport them into the future. Still, it was a start, and it was with unswerving hope in his heart that he boarded it, clutching in his fist some purple wildflowers he had found.
They were a gift for Sally, should they make it back to her time. He hadn’t been able to find any tulips, so it was the best he could do.
“What do you think?” he asked Dave as he began to row out into the ocean. The small ship had a mast and sail they could use to direct the boat once they got a bit farther from shore.
“I don’t know,” Dave said. “The locals seemed to think the next three days would be a bad time to be on the water. They warned us against sailing out into it. That we’d be putting ourselves in danger—which we probably are. I didn’t entirely understand the superstition, but for our purposes, we need to find a strange, unexplainable storm. Hopefully that’s what we’re sailing toward.”
“Hopefully,” Mark agreed. “How’s the foot?”
“It hurts like the dickens. I wouldn’t wish this on my worst enemy, but at least I can put some weight on it now, which is an improvement.”
Mark chuckled.
“What’s so funny?”
“The thought of you having an enemy. You’re Mr. Nice Guy, and a priest, to boot.”
“Hey, you weren’t there in seminary. Joey Moretti and I got into a fistfight.”
“A fistfight. In seminary? Uh huh. Right. Over what?”
“Whether or not free will has an impact on our lives.”
Mark rolled his eyes and continued to row. Of course, he had gotten into a fight about theology.
Only Dave.
What they were doing was dangerous. Both of them knew it, but neither wanted to say it out loud. The boat was not in the greatest shape, but it was the best they’d been able to borrow for their venture given their time limitations, in both senses of the word. No one in their right mind would want to sail it into a storm, especially the kind for which they were looking.
He was in his right mind but in the wrong century and he couldn’t sit idly by and let his life run out here. He needed to be back with his family. His wife and children needed him and he needed them. He wouldn’t rest until he walked back into the door of his home.
Even if they survived the coming storm, they still might end up hopelessly lost at sea, either in this time or another, and die of starvation and thirst before they ever made it home. Both of them were carrying compasses with them which hopefully would not betray them as their electronic navigation equipment had.
He had finally rowed far enough away from shore that they were able to unfurl the small sail. The boat began moving at a brisk pace farther out to sea.
“Here we go. You ready?” Dave asked, excitement in his voice.
Mark spoke through a clenched jaw. “Ready to go home. I don’t think anyone can be ready for what it will take us to get there.”
It seemed like it forever, but they finally made it out to roughly the area in which they figured they had been when the original storm had taken them back in time.
The skies in the distance were dark when they finally hauled down the sail. Could this be the storm they were awaiting?
Both of them were wearing jackets made out of cork, the closest thing to a life vest they could come by in the 1800’s. Mark would have liked to have taken a couple of more modern vests from his boat, but that meant going out of their way and risking running aground on the island again, which neither one of them was willing to do. Even thinking about it caused both of them anxiety.
“Well, here we are,” Dave said with a deep sigh.
“Yeah. Here we are,” Mark echoed. “Think there’s any chance this will work?”
“I wish I knew.”
They fell into a tense silence as both of them kept their eyes glued on the dark clouds moving steadily closer to their rickety boat. Even as the skies grew angrier, the ocean grew still. It was an odd, bipolar combination as electricity went through the air.
Hold on, Baby, I’m coming, he kept thinking, willing Sally to hear him through time and distance.
~
Just as she was about to wake the girls up for breakfast, Sally froze with her hand on the doorknob of their bedroom door. She could have sworn she’d heard Mark’s voice calling out to her.
“Mark?” she whispered, her heart thudding in response. “Is that you?”
~
“Sally?” Mark asked aloud.
“What?” Dave said, cocking his head in surprise.
Mark shook his head. “It was the strangest thing. I could have sworn I heard Sally’s voice for a moment. Too much stress, I guess.”
Dave raised an eyebrow. “Something like that ever happen to you before?”
“I’m not crazy, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“No. That’s not what I’m saying. I mean, do you guys ever communicate without actually talking?”
Mark hesitated for a moment. “When Sally was pregnant with Emma, I once heard her tell me clear as day that she was frightened about what it was going to mean for our relationship. She was at home at the time and I was at work. It freaked me out so much I went straight home to tell her I loved her, that she was and would always be my number one and nothing could ever change that. She told me later that she’d been rehearsing what she wanted to say to me when I got home that evening and somehow I had heard her word-for-word.”
“Wow.”
“Yeah. Then when she was pregnant with Jayne, I’m positive I heard her several times—heart-to-heart. And she heard me, too. It mostly seemed to happen when one or both of us was experiencing intense emotions.”
“What kind of emotions?”
“All kinds. Happy, sad, angry, even crazy hungry a couple of times.”
“So, do you think this might be one of those times?”
He shook his head. “I don’t know. It stopped when Jayne was born and we haven’t really had any of those experiences since.”
“I can’t even begin to understand what it would mean to have that kind of connection with another human being,” Dave said.
“You believe me?” Mark asked, surprised by his friend’s reaction.
“Believing in the miraculous kind of goes with the job, you know.”
Mark chuckled. “Yeah, I guess so.”
“I’m guessing both of you are highly emotional right now and have been for weeks. That’s only natural. You’ve both been under tremendous strain such as most people could never imagine.”
“Yeah, but this is the first time it’s happened,” Mark said.
“Odd. I wonder what triggered it now?” Dave mused.
“I’ve been carefully keeping track of the days we’ve been gone. Today is our wedding anniversary.”
“Oh, man, I’m so sorry. No wonder you’re full of pent-up emotion.”
“Yeah, well get me home safe and sound and you won’t ever have to get us an anniversary gift, not even for our fiftieth.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
They fell silent again as both of them returned their attention to the approaching storm.
Watching, waiting and hoping.
~
Sally stood frozen for a moment, straining her ears and her heart to lis
ten, but she didn’t hear anything else.
Suddenly, a wave of nausea washed over her. She let go of the doorknob and ran for the bathroom down the hall. As she knelt in front of the toilet, she closed her eyes, trying to wish the sickness away.
Mark, I wish you were here, she thought in misery. I can’t do this again, not without you.
Again.
The word rang through her mind, echoing around and around.
Again.
There was something her subconscious had known which she hadn’t yet fully grasped. Despite her best efforts, she couldn’t calm her stomach and she began to throw up. As she did her thoughts were racing back to the last time she’d been sick like this.
She’d been pregnant with Jayne.
This time, the clues had all been there, but she’d been so wrapped up in her search for Mark that she’d missed them.
I’m pregnant.
19
Her nausea was overwhelming, causing Sally’s head to spin as her mind struggled to come to terms with what was happening.
I can’t be pregnant. Not now. Not with Mark trapped in the past. I can’t do this alone.
Even while her mind was busy denying the truth, her body was making it emphatically clear. She would take a pregnancy test, but she instinctively knew even without confirmation. She could feel it, just as she had with her last two pregnancies.
She and Mark had talked about having a third child, but they had never made a decision to try to get pregnant. It looked as if nature had made the choice for them. She kept her eyes squeezed tightly closed against the dizzying motion of the room spinning around her.
“Mama, are you okay?” Emma asked from behind her, her voice high and frightened.
Sally raised her left arm and gave her a thumbs up since she couldn’t speak at the moment. Emma ran from the room, her bare feet slapping against the floor. “Just a minute, Mama.”
At long last, the waves of nausea ended. She was finally able to stand up and wash her hands and splash cold water on her face. She turned around as she heard bare feet running back toward the bathroom.
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