by Lee Strauss
“THIS IS MY FAULT, I GUESS,” Nate said.
What he meant was he'd done a stupid thing by touching me. Not that I travel every time someone touches me, just it seems, when he touches me.
We stood in the forest, like before, only this time he was still holding my hand.
I looked down at our interlocking fingers and fought back a big lump forming in my throat. Despite my best efforts, a runaway tear escaped down my face.
“I’m sorry, Nate.” Our hands broke free.
“It’s okay. I suppose you could call it a calculated risk on my part.”
Then, he reached up and wiped away my stray tear with his finger. Every nerve in my body went into Fourth of July fireworks mode. He leaned forward slightly. Oh? Was he going to kiss me? The shock of this possibility caused me to jolt back involuntarily. Oh no. Now he thought I didn’t want him to. (Did I? Of Course I Did!)
“Nate?” He squinted and took a step back. “Uh, I just, uh, it’s nothing.”
What’s nothing? What’s NOTHING? Was he or wasn’t he? Then he bowed like a waiter, motioning with his hand for me to lead the way to my stash.
“Back to the Watsons’?” he said.
“I guess so.” I was still recovering from our almost-kiss. I didn’t get it. His we-run-in-different-crowds speech still rang loud and clear in my head. Did he have a change of heart? Or was he just being nice? Maybe he felt bad for ignoring me all these weeks? I mean, he still had Jessica, after all. Call me stupid. That wasn’t an almost-kiss, just wishful thinking on my part.
We reached the stash and Nate politely waited outside the grove as I changed from my birthday wolf T-shirt and jeans into the dress I’d left there last time. I quickly felt for the cross necklace, relieved to find it still there. It was cold, and I had to leave my zippered jacket behind at the stash. I reminded Nate, no zippers, so he left his hoodie behind too, and pulled his T-shirt down to hide the one on his jeans. Which were also a problem, since denim, at least the widespread use, was still a decade or so away. But he couldn’t very well remove those.
We made the hike to the Watson farm in silence. Mostly. Except for when I couldn’t keep my mouth shut. “I guess we’re back to brother and sister,” I said.
He let out a long breath. I could tell he wasn’t looking forward to this. Well, too bad for him. It wasn’t my fault he'd touched me. Calculated risk, my butt. Next time he’d know better. It was my turn to let out a long breath. Like there would be a next time. To my surprise, the next time came the next second. Nate slipped his arm around my shoulders.
“You’re shivering.”
What could I say? It felt amazing, and I wanted to kick myself. I hated that I was setting myself up for more heartache. He was just a dumb boy.
“I’m fine,” I said slipping away. For a split second he had a wounded look on his face, but he quickly recovered.
Our ride to the farm came from an unwelcome source. Cobbs rode up pulling a cart.
“Well, look what we have here,” he said, bringing the horse to a stop. A smarmy grin crossed his round, ruddy face. “Ain’t you two the happy wanderers.”
“Hello, Cobbs,” Nate said coolly. “Actually, we were just on our way to the Watsons’ farm.”
“Of course you were.” He stared at us pompously like he had the upper hand. Was he going to drive away and make us walk? Nate took the initiative and swung his leg over the back of the cart. “You don’t mind us hitching a ride, I hope.” He didn’t wait for an answer before taking my hand and helping me in. The way he just took charge was so awesome. I felt swooning coming on.
Cobbs shook his head and clucked his tongue. “I don’t get why the Watsons put up with you folks.”
Someone had left an old horse blanket in the cart and Nate wrapped it around our shoulders. I was freezing, so this time I didn’t resist. Our combined shivering and body heat warmed us up, and I didn’t even mind the horsey smell. Try as I might, I couldn’t help but enjoy snuggling close to Nate. I was definitely my own worst enemy.
The trees on the farm were bare of leaves with a thick frosting of snow. A hare hopped into the woods as we rolled down the driveway. Two of the younger kids were making snow angels on the ground. They waved when they saw us exit the cart.
“The cabin’s empty,” Willie said after greeting us. “You know the way. I’ll tell Sara that you’re here. You can join us for supper.”
“Thanks, Willie,” I said. “We just ate, so we won’t trouble you anymore today. You can put us to work tomorrow.”
“If that’s what you prefer. See you in the morning.”
He tipped his hat and walked to his house. The cabin was ice cold. Nate started the fire and I lit the candle. The sheet still hung between the two beds, which was a relief, and I quickly shucked myself between the covers of mine. I watched Nate start the fire in silence. It was awkward the last time we were here together because we didn’t even know each other (not counting my prior near stalking obsession with Nate), this time it was awkward because we did know each other. But now there was a line drawn in the sand. Or more like a sheet that hung between us. The faded cotton symbolized how we stood with each other. I’d better stay on my side if I knew what was best for me.
Once the fire was roaring, Nate dropped onto his mattress, putting his arms behind his head.
“So, this is your life, Casey.” I didn’t quite know what he meant. It wasn’t a question so I didn’t feel a need to respond. Apparently, Nate felt like talking. “Just one big loop over and over.”
I conceded, “Something like that.”
“Doesn’t it drive you crazy? Having your life interrupted all the time. Having to be two different people. Having to survive in a strange era?”
Wow. He’d gotten so intense.
“It drives me crazy if I let it, but it’s not something I can control,” I said, rolling onto my side. I could see the top of his head, from his eyes up, past the edge of the hanging sheet where it didn’t quite reach the wall by several inches. “I kind of view it like someone living with epilepsy. You can’t help the seizures, but you can’t let them rule your life. You have to keep on living, knowing that the seizures can happen any time any place.” I let out a heavy sigh. “Yes, it is hard to live two lives, having to be two different people in two different worlds, but it’s not impossible. It’s not the worst thing a person could live with.”
Nate turned onto his side to face me. We were looking at each other eye to eye. It was kind of intimate in an eye-staring kind of way. “I’ve never met anyone like you, Casey.”
Well, duh. “You’re the strongest, bravest person I know.”
What? Really? I felt myself blushing, and was glad it was fairly dark in the room. He continued, “Aren’t you afraid of changing history? I mean, how do you know that you already haven’t?”
Recovering from the shock of his last statement, I answered, “I used to be really afraid of that, especially after I watched Back to the Future II, when Michael J. Fox snagged the sports almanac and wrecked the space time continuum. But then I realized I am part of that history. Our future is what it is despite the fact that I’m here, maybe even because I’m here.”
“I don’t get it.”
“When I’m in real time, my time, the past has already happened, including all the part with me in it, like now. It’s a loop. So when I’m here, I know that whatever happens with me, already happened once I get home. It’s part of the history.”
“Aren’t you tempted to try to change things? Don’t you want to do something like save Abraham Lincoln before he gets shot?”
“I used to think that maybe I’m here to try to fix an injustice, undo an evil, but then I figured maybe I could just end up setting the course for an even greater injustice or a greater evil. I’m not God. It’s not my place to mess with something this big.”
That seemed to give him pause for thought. His eyes moved from mine back to the ceiling. I did the same. I counted four spiders.
“I do wo
nder why, though. Why do I travel? Why me? Is it just a weird quirk of nature, or is there some higher purpose?”
Five. Five spiders.
Nate didn’t have an answer for that. Only more questions. “What happens if you die here?” What? Was he worried I might die? Or that if I died he’d be stuck here?
“I don’t know. I just assumed that since I’m still there, I couldn’t have died here.”
“Are you sure?”
“No.”
We were interrupted by a banging on the door. Nate jumped up to open it. It was Willie, all red faced, his hair damp and dotted with specks of snow.
“Sorry to bother you, but Cassandra, Sara needs you. Our mother is having the babe.” Nate and I ran with Willie through a thick blanket of snow, bursting into the kitchen where Sara was pouring hot water into a bucket.
“Willie,” Sara instructed, “keep the little ones quiet. Cassandra, come with me.” She shoved a stack of towels into my arms and grabbed the large pail of steaming water. We sprinted up the wide staircase. “The midwife can’t come in this storm,” Sara explained. “I’ve never done this by myself, though between the two of us and all the babies our mothers have brought into the world, we should be fine.”
Fine? I’d never seen anything born in my life! Not even a kitten or puppy!
“Uh, Sara,” my chest tightened with anxiety. “I, uh—” Mrs. Watson’s screams shut me up.
“Mother,” Sara said, soothingly. “We’re here. Cassandra is with us. Everything is going to be all right.” Mrs. Watson’s pale face glistened with sweat. She had a sheet pulled over her mountainous belly, and her legs were spread apart. I felt faint. I bit my lip and shifted my weight from one foot to the other.
“Put the towels down, Cassandra, and use one to wipe Mother’s forehead.”
Good. Instructions. I could wipe the woman’s head. Then another labor pain came on. Somehow Mrs. Watson found my hand and squeezed. Hard. She had a small bony hand, but boy, was she strong. I almost yelled out in pain with her. “It’s coming,” she said.
Oh. My. Goodness.
Sara lifted the sheet higher and I thanked God that I never had to see my own mother this way.
“I see the head, Mother. Push.”
Mrs. Watson pushed and pushed. She pushed for at least a half hour but it felt like eternity to me. By the end of it my hand was crushed, but I wasn’t going to complain. All of a sudden there was a baby. And blood. Lots of blood. It was all way too gross. When Sara cut the umbilical cord with a pair of sewing scissors and clipped it with a hairpin, I almost threw up.
“Get the towels,” Sara commanded.
Right. Towel duty. I tossed her one, and she wrapped it around a very small and very wrinkly little creature. Sara put her finger into its mouth and then it cried. I let out a breath. Then Sara motioned with her eyes from the towels to the blood. I started mopping, too stunned by what had just happened to be freaked out by the fact that I was wiping up blood.
Sara gave the baby to Mrs. Watson and she put it to her breast. Okay, another thing I’m glad I never had to watch my own mother do. “He’s beautiful, Mother,” I heard Sara say. So, it was a boy. Thankfully the baby was fine, but I definitely could see why women died in childbirth.
I dropped the soiled towels in a basket and sat down on a chair near the window. My knees were shaking.
“What’s he to be called, Mother?”
“I think Daniel is a nice name,” Mrs. Watson said weakly. We worked together to change the sheets, tricky with Mrs. Watson still in the bed.
Then Sara instructed her mother. “You need to rest now. I’ll watch over Daniel while you sleep.” Mrs. Watson closed her eyes and was out before the count of three.
I followed Sara downstairs. She carried the baby, excited to show him off to his new siblings.
We were greeted with the sweet smell of toast. Nate didn’t know what to do while we were busy upstairs so he had made toast. Lots and lots of toast.
“Here he is, everyone!” Sara called. All the Watson kids rushed into the living room to peek at their new brother. “Careful now,” she said to the younger ones. “He’s very fragile.”
After a while the younger kids got bored and Sara sent them to bed, telling the older girls to help. Finally it was just Sara, Willie, me and Nate. And the baby.
“I think, if you’re done with me, Sara,” I said. “I will go back to my cabin.”
“Of course you must be tired. Thank you so much for your help tonight.”
Not like I did a lot. I took a peek at the bundle in her arms.
“Hey, Danny Boy,” I whispered.
“Do you want to hold him?” Sara held him out for me. I didn’t know. He seemed kind of breakable. She didn’t wait for me to answer.
“Uh, okay.” She helped me scoop him up and I quickly sat down in the rocking chair. I sneaked a peek at Nate and saw him grinning. He was amused by my discomfort.
“Does he make you miss yours?” Sara asked.
“Miss my what?” I said, surprised.
“Your baby brother.” My baby brother? Oh yeah, the last big story. I almost forgot about my fictional family.
“Yeah, I guess.”
“What’s his name?”
“Whose name?” I realized I sounded like an idiot.
“Your baby brother’s name?”
Tell the truth whenever you can because, that way you don’t forget when you’ve lied about something. Also, most people get really upset when they find out you lied to them.
“My brother’s name is Timothy.”
“Nice Christian name.”
Sara rubbed Daniel’s head. “Isn’t he a miracle?”
“Yes, he is.” As I held him, something stirred in me, something really strange, like the desire that one day I might want to be a mother. A surprising thought, considering what I'd just witnessed. Then it struck me. How could that be? How could I be a traveler and a mother? I might be changing a diaper or pushing the stroller and “poof”, disappear. I could bring the baby back in time with me. Or worse, leave it behind in the past! It would never work! It would be unsafe and unfair. I couldn’t believe I’d never thought of this before. I glanced back up at Nate. He yawned.
Who would want to marry me if I couldn’t have kids? I was going to be alone forever. I felt a tremble in my chest, my eyes glazed with tears.
“Cassandra?” Nate stared at me with concern. “We should get some rest.”
“Okay,” I said with a little hiccup as I handed the baby back to Sara. Nate and I walked back to the cabin and I couldn’t keep from sniffing. His expression flipped from worry to confused, and I think he was glad to have this night finally end. So was I. Having babies makes you really emotional, I found, even if you’re not the one actually having the baby.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN