The very thought of them not doing so sickened me to the core but I had to be realistic. This was Georgia after all. Mother had taken her long gun but that didn’t mean it would keep her alive if a bear attacked.
We knew very well the day she left that it might be the last goodbye.
My stomach twisted at the very thought, so I hurriedly dropped by pack and ran to the chicken coup. Feathers flew around in the air and scattered along the dirt. Something bad happened here.
As soon as I saw blood, I knew it they were gone. All ten chickens lay dead in the grass, some of them were only parts remaining and not whole bodies.
I threw up at the sight of legs left discarded and beaks not eaten. Once I composed myself, I wiped my face with my dress I checked on my sheep and found him very much alive but injured.
“Oh, you poor thing, Handful. How horrible it must’ve been for you to listen to those chickens die.” Handful had been a name my father jokingly gave him. He had been such a pain as a lamb, and such a handful, that the name just stuck.
Now he sat suffering for goodness knows how long, waiting for me to return.
Opening his gate, he scurried away from me, bleating in pain.
“It’s just me, Handful, I won’t hurt you. Just let me see,” I said in a calming voice. He had been bitten, but not badly. At the look of the bite, it looked like canine teeth. If it were wolves, they wouldn’t have left him alive. They’d go straight for the neck and kill him instantly. Pushing his wool aside, I pressed on the bite and no blood came out. It wasn’t deep.
“Coyote perhaps,” I told him. “Wasn’t a mountain lion. Maybe the coyote was scared off by something. Wish you could tell me what it was.”
His large eyes looked deeply into mine, pleading for me to leave him be. So, I did. I laid fresh hay and closed his gate.
Leaving the chickens bodies, or what was left of them, was not an option. Ignoring my stomach, I cleaned up after them and the eggs that were broken.
I buried the remains far from the cabin to keep the animal who attacked them away.
Deciding to stay up and keep watch I loaded my father’s gun and set it beside the front door. No one would kill my sheep. He was all we had.
“What am I going to do for food?” I wondered aloud. No answer came, just the cold blast of wind that pelted my face as I watched the forest.
Sixteen
Adam 2019
After Angela left, I stayed in bed for the rest of the night. Sleep evaded me but came in spurts. When I did sleep, I had nightmares of time travelling into warzones. It was craziest when I woke up drenched in sweat. I rolled over and saw the time and grumbled. Six o’ clock on a Saturday. In two hours, the store would be open and I’d somehow have to walk downstairs and do my job.
Pulling my pillow over my head I screamed. Yeah, I was being a big baby. So what. Finding out something like time travel ran in your family and having a bomb dropped on you about the death of your mom’s passion made you want to act stupid.
Slightly bending my knee to test it out I found that the swelling went down.
I slid my leg off the bed and pulled my body up. So far so good. Standing would be a different story, so I grabbed a chair and used it to guide me out of bed, and walk across the room to the bathroom.
I looked like shit. My hair was all over the place not to mention the bags I had for days under my eyes.
“Looks like you need coffee,” I said to my reflection. Splashing water on my face wouldn’t cut it, I had to try to shower. Using all my upper body strength I got myself into the shower and held myself up despite the shooting pain in my knee. I washed up and got out and only thought of Rose once. Ignoring the way she made my body feel when I thought of her was the hardest thing. The girl had done things to me that made me think I was going crazy.d
How could a girl that I met one time stick inside my head like she did? Not to brag, but I met girls all the time. In the store. At the bar. Hell, I met girls on the street. New York was a hub of beautiful women. My ex was beautiful and she made my body want her in all sorts of ways, but something about Rose made me want something I’d never felt before. Not just sex, although the way my dick rose in the shower while thinking of her in that dress made me think sex with her would be awesome. Imagining her hair as it fell across her shoulders made me want to touch myself.
But it wasn’t like me to get stuck on a girl. Throwing on my clothes and ignoring these feelings I tamed my hair. I limped down the stairs and realized that was a task I wasn’t prepared for, but I accomplished it. Flipping the open sign, I regretted being in this particular place at the moment. I’d give my left testicle to be in my own bed, resting.
Customers arrived and they needed help finding certain books, because God forbid they actually do the work themselves. While limping over to help these individuals, you’d think they’d see I was hurt and find it themselves. Nope. Damsels in distress they were not, these were dudes. Guys who couldn’t bother to put down their phone or just were too lazy to do it.
I gladly took my lunch at noon and stared at my phone while I ate. The store being closed for just the hour was a mercy I was so thankful for.
I knew that I had to call Angela back, but making that call hurt, physically.
I opted for a text, which may have been a dick move but I didn’t mind taking the brunt of her return text. Which aptly said, “Get some balls and dial me next time. I’ll be in touch, kid. In the meantime, do not go near those books.”
She was super bossy but she did know her stuff. Without my mom here to guide me along during this confusing time, I had to lean on whatever mentorship I could find, even if it was a 5’2 fiery redhead with a nasty attitude and absolutely no patience.
By closing time, I knew my bookstore was hurting. If I didn’t get more customers I’d fail. Failing at this wasn’t an option. I thought I had it all covered and that this place would work out. Perhaps it was my throbbing leg, or the fact that I had literally not recovered from actual time travel, I was in a bad mood.
Limping back up the steps was just as bad as down. And by the time I got upstairs, I was in a hell of a lot of pain.
So, breaking a few rules didn’t really deter me from what I did next.
Being a good boy was never my strong suit.
Seventeen
1765 Rose
I heard them arrive before I saw them with my own eyes. They were known for their stealth, which meant that they wanted me to know they were there. Hastily, I dressed in my layers and pulled my untidy hair back in a braid. It had grown so much while Mother was gone, showing me just how long she was away. My worrying for her ceased and I came to terms with the brutal truth that they must be dead. Pulling open the door, I faced the tribe that stood on my land. Several of them sat atop horses yet the women stood in front of them, looking powerful.
“Rose,” one of the women said coming forward. “My name’s Hacateyena and I come to you about your marriage.”
Her English was almost perfect, leading me to believe she did most of the speaking for her tribe. Her long, black hair flowed down passed her waist and she had eyes that stared right into you. Finding any significance between them and me wouldn’t be hard. I was half Cherokee so I would look like them, but being them was a whole other truth. Seeing her there showed me that I was raised much differently from the Cherokee.
Hacateyena’s beauty was magnificent but it didn’t distract me from the word she spoke. Marriage.
“I am yet to be betrothed,” I said, not hiding the spite in my words. “So, you come by mistake. I am my own woman.” She smiled at that and cocked her head.
“Surely, your mother spoke to you about our clan and the agreement she made?”
She most certainly did not tell me of any agreement. She only told me it was an option, a way out of being alone forev
er. But the longer I lived alone here on this mountain, the better being without a man was sounding.
“We come to you from the Paint Clan. We honor women, and mothers, and medicine. like the life around us. The men of our tribe are strong and will all serve as good husbands. You worry much. Is Nayawenye inside?”
“Her name is Ruth now. I am the woman of the house as of late.”
Stepping away from the house and shaking my shoulders to loosen the tenseness, I approached her. “Mother and Father are gone. Perhaps forever. It’s been two months since Mother left and three since Father. The winter has been hard,” I told her, pointing to my empty chicken house and the sheep who slept in the hay despite the snow surrounding him. “But I do not need a husband. And even a harsh winter will not change that.”
“Need is not important,” she said, coming closer to me. She smelled of earth and snow, fresh and clean but yet not. It was hard to describe what she was like as I stared into her dark eyes.
“A man can keep you warm and keep you safe. Your chickens died and you are hungry.” She pulled at my dress and the great space it held between my skin. Things weren’t fitting like they used to and I worried that my blue dress would never be worn, despite the hard work I put into it. The furs Mother had given me to keep warm were not doing their job. I needed to eat better. I’d gotten skinny and this made me sickly. I’d do anything for food in the house but I wouldn’t agree to marriage for it. Hunting daily and setting traps gave me the meat to get through the harsh winter. But spring would arrive before I knew it and I could easily trade for more chickens. I just had to wait out the cold for a little while longer. The travel across the mountain to the nearest village would be long and arduous. I longed for a garden with fresh food to pick every day. The sun that beat down on my face as I tended this garden would bring me much happiness.
“I’ll be fine. Besides, your men are looking for a woman to marry who wants to love a man and take care of their child. That simply isn’t me.”
Hacateyena nodded in understanding and took my face in her hands. She was soft and tender as she checked me over. I assumed she was looking for illness since her clan was known to help the sick.
Checking to see if I was sick or ill, she let go of me and said, “You look well but too skinny. We will stay and feed you for the night. Then we will go. Until then take this offering of meat as a peaceful gesture from our clan. We are your mother’s people after all.”
A man got down from his horse and placed two hens at my feet. His broad face was painted red and his long dark hair flowed down his bare back. Seeing the livestock made me weep. I’d not thought that I’d have animals to feed me until the weather warmed.
Running my fingers through the feathers of my new hens I wept. But then I thought of the danger that lurked in the woods. Watching, waiting, and trying to kill Handful several times since I first found him injured.
“There is something in the woods. It killed my chickens and visits almost nightly for Handful, er, my sheep. I’ve tracked it and set traps but I cannot catch it.”
The man who’d given me the animals looked around the woods. His keen eyes searched as if he would find something I wouldn’t. Perhaps he would. Perhaps he was a better hunter than I’d ever be.
“I can find,” he said.
Was this the man Mother betrothed me to? If so, she’d not chosen wrong. He was handsome in the face and strong bodied but there was something missing. I longed to touch his body and perhaps feel him next to me. But love was more than being naked with a man when you were lonely. I blushed at my own thoughts.
Mother explained to me that when you met your soulmate you would feel a heat inside you, one that you could not ignore. I did not feel that in the presence of any of these men.
“Come inside,” I said to Hacateyena and the others. “I’ll fix us something to eat.”
Hacateyena shook her head firmly.
“No sister, let us feed and care for you. Atohi will hunt for your killer.” I let them all come inside and Atohi stared into my eyes until I closed the door. Watching from the window I saw him approach the old chicken coup and investigate further. He touched the snow, sniffing it and then stood tall and walked away into the woods.
“You like Atohi?” Haca said, as she watched with me. “He is great hunter and will find whatever killed your animals. And maybe, you will find a great respect for him and agree to marry him.”
Biting my lip, I shook my head. Not likely. There was only one man who gave me that feeling of warmth and he was not coming back.
***
Adam 2019
I stood in my house. Not the place I lived in now but the home of my childhood. Where I played GI Joe’s and Transformers. The chair that I sat at during dinner was right next to me. So close I could reach out and touch the polished wood.
Everything smelled and looked just like it did when I was young, and as I peered around the corner, I saw a little boy playing with none other than Transformers.
Oh my God, it was me.
Little me.
I was so puny. No wonder my brothers picked on me all the time. Speaking of my brothers, I could hear them out on the street playing hockey. They never invited me to play because I was younger, and that was just the way it was when I was a kid.
“Adam, are you having fun with your toys?” My mom asked from the other room. And just like a miracle she flowed into the room like an angel. Except she wasn’t an angel, she was alive and healthy.
This was her past. Her memory because I was reading her diary. Somehow, I had not only been reading her diary but transported into it. Just like I was with the first book, but different.
“Why can’t I play outside, Mommy?” Little me asked.
“Oh, Adam. You know that you don’t need to play hockey with those boys, right? You have something they don’t.”
“I do?”
She smiled and her eyes lit up. “You have imagination. And don’t ever tell them this but you have something your brothers don’t. Something that I gave you.”
Little me looked at my body, as if he could see it.
“Where is it?”
Mom giggled and gently took my hair and moved it away from my face. She never liked it long. She’d hate it now.
“When a mother has a baby, they pass things on to the baby, through their blood. And you are the one that got this special gift from me. Not your brothers, just you,” she said with a smile. “As long as you have this you can use it. And I promise to show you how you can do special things, when you get older. But for now, let’s keep this our secret. And you just be a kid and play with your toys.”
Little me smiled and nodded. Big me didn’t remember this conversation. Maybe a little after seeing it first-hand but it didn’t stick out in my mind. Wondering why she never said anything to me when I got older, I hid behind the wall that separated us.
I wondered what would happen if little me saw big me. Would it have horrible effects on my current life?
My mom paused and then slowly looked over her shoulder. Then before I knew it, she sent little me out front to play in the sprinklers and she waited until the front door closed. Then she said, “Hello Adam.”
She came toward me and I felt almost like I was going to faint. I had been leaning on the wall to support myself and to take pressure off of my injury. To be honest, it was agony, but seeing my mom made the pain go away instantly. She was so beautiful.
“How old are you?” she asked as she came to a stop right at the opening of the kitchen. Her hands were so young and full of life as she touched my face.
“Uh, twenty-one.”
She smiled, pulled back, and tucked her blonde hair behind her ear like I had seen her do a million times before. Seeing her now was like no time passed at all.
“You are so g
rown, Adam. Please sit down, sweetie. I think you may need to see a doctor for that leg.”
She pointed to my wrapped knee and I just shrugged it off.
“Oh, it’s fine, really.”
“So, if you’re here that means I’m dead. Do you have a guide at least?”
My mouth fell open and I felt a freezing cold feeling in my gut. How did we go from talking about my knee to her death? The last thing I wanted to talk to her about was that.
“How did—”
Her tucked hair slipped free and she tried to hide it, but her lip trembled slightly. What mother wanted to talk about their impending death?
“That’s how the gift works. You cannot travel until the person with the gene passes on. Don’t ask how or why, I don’t hold answers to questions like that,” she said.
I bit my lip, trying to figure out the science of the gene, or magic, but I couldn’t seem to wrap my head around it. It was complex and I knew the only person that held the answers was some man I’d never met before.
“Who helped you come here?” she asked, with a hopeful look in her eye.
Chuckling I said, “Your crazy friend Angela told me some about how this works. But she doesn’t know that I’m here. This was sort of accidental.”
Her smile reached her eyes at the mention of Angela’s name and I could feel lightness in the air.
“I want to know more, it’s just… overwhelming. And I don’t think that I did it right.”
She patted my arm and touched my crazy hair.
“Is this the style now?”
The Bibliophile (The Librarian Chronicles Book 3) Page 6