I was supposed to keep an eye on the kids as I cleaned up the fireplace, swept the floors, gathered and stacked wood, helped stir pots, and flipped meat on the grill.
“What country did we come from?” Elizabeth asked the kids.
A couple of hands went up. “England!” a new little schoolgirl blurted.
“Very good. Thank you, Miss Smythe,” Elizabeth said.
My head whipped around so fast I thought it might spin off my shoulders. I stared at this brown-haired girl with a large nose. She looked awfully familiar.
“Who is our King?” Elizabeth asked.
“King Charles II!” the brunette munchkin said. My mouth dropped open as I recognized the kid was a younger, innocent version of Taylor Smythe. But without the nose job. How bizarre.
“You are the best teacher ever, Mistress Elizabeth!”
Elizabeth smiled. “Thank you, Miss Smythe.”
The Smythe doppelganger raised her hand and waved it furiously. “Mistress Elizabeth! Mistress Elizabeth!”
“Yes, Mary.”
“I do not believe Miss Abigail is stacking those logs next to the fireplace properly. They could fall over and start a fire,” Mary Smythe said.
I stared at the Smythe munchkin. And remembered what a pain she was. Definitely some past life karma playing out. I caught a questioning glance from Elizabeth.
“I’ll happily re-stack the logs should you want.”
Elizabeth nodded.
I looked at the logs, sighed, and took them down off the pile—one by one. Just when I thought things couldn’t get more absurd or complicated—they did.
“Work on your letters, children. And we will see you next week,” Elizabeth said.
Another week had passed without my dad, or Sophie, or even Jane. Did they miss me? Were they looking for me? Would Dad give up on me eventually, like he finally gave up on Mama? Oh God, I hoped not.
* * *
I suffered through another grueling Reverend Wilkins’ sermon. It amazed me that these same colonial people who traveled across an ocean to do back-breaking work, expose themselves to weird diseases, hideous weather, and fight brutal wars, could still find the patience to listen to some pompous guy drivel on for hours. Don’t get me wrong—I pray to God all the time. But my God teaches love and forgiveness.
Elizabeth and I left the church. “Reverend Wilkins is such an—”
“No. No. Do not say it.” Elizabeth patted her stomach, which seemed to be growing about an inch each couple of days. “Look at the stocks,” she whispered.
I did. There was a guy shackled to its bottom with a large iron clamp around his leg attached to a chain. He looked miserable. “I have been here a day,” he said. “Will not someone feed me?” Most of the churchgoers walked past him, and said nothing. A few laughed. I carried an old corn cake I had planned to give to Nathan. I handed it to this guy instead.
“Thank you, Miss,” he ripped into it.
“What did he do?” I whispered to Elizabeth.
“He did not attend church services for two whole weeks in a row.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
Elizabeth shook her head.
Mistress Powter walked past and smiled at me. I nodded back and ground my teeth in a forced smile. “I’m going to explode,” I whispered.
“Go to the barn for a bit,” Elizabeth said. “You are always calmer and happier when you come home from the barn.”
Chapter 15
She was right. I grabbed some oats, opened the gate to Nathan’s stall, and squeezed inside. This was the closest I’d ever been to a horse since before my accident. He looked tall. Frankly, he looked massive. He nudged my hand with his nose. “Yeah, got it. Someone’s hungry.”
I fed Nathan the oats, and then massaged his neck tentatively. “You’re so normal,” I said. He pushed his head into my hand again, his eyes at half-mast. He was darling. “How come everyone here isn’t more like you?”
I laid my head on his shoulder, wrapped my arms around his neck and hugged him. Funny, the horsey smell didn’t bother me anymore.
“I do not see you for a bit, Madeline, and you have already fallen for a far nobler soul than I,” Samuel said as he entered silently through the door.
My breath caught in my throat. Nathan regarded Samuel and nodded his head. It was an awfully big head. He whinnied and stomped his front foot on the ground. I felt a little jittery and backed away until I was pressed flat against the side of the stall.
“He likes you.” Samuel climbed the gate and dropped into the stall. “You do not need to be scared of him.” He murmured something to Nathan and examined his shoulder. “And you, my friend, do not need to be scared of her.”
“I’m not scared.” I squeezed out of the stall door.
“I would be if I were you.” He lifted Nathan’s front hoof on the injured side and took it through range-of-motion exercises. “Strange place, different time. I think you are doing very well for someone who has traveled so far: over three hundred years and many miles.”
“What do you know about time traveling?” I asked. “You know about traveling and you’ve been holding out on me?”
He sighed. “I suspected. But I did not know for sure until you confided in me, Miss Madeline Blackford from the future.” Samuel smiled the most gorgeous smile I’d ever seen on a guy.
“Well then, you must share. Immediately,” I said. “This traveling thing is completely new to me. I don’t know what I’m supposed to feel or do. How to act, what to say.” And it hit me. “Oh, my God. Are you a traveler, too?”
“I am not a traveler. Angeni is convinced my future lies elsewhere. I know people who travel, but cannot tell you who they are without betraying promises and secrets,” he said. “So I think we should leave this stinky barn, and you can tell me about your life in the future.”
“But won’t the garrison’s people freak if they see us together?” I asked, and immediately felt like an idiot for pointing out the obvious. “I’m sorry. But they seem uptight about, well, everything.”
“Mmm. Good point.” Samuel climbed up to the top of the stall’s gate, reached his hand overhead, and pushed a board in the barn’s ceiling. “So we create a distraction of sorts.” He banged on the board. It dislodged after the third hit. A cloud of dust, as well as some remnants of bird nests rained down upon us.
I ducked, and covered my head with my hands. “Is this your distraction?”
Samuel caught the worst of the debris and coughed. “More like my plan of attack. Now that I know the warriors.”
Feathers and twigs stuck to his hair and shirt. I couldn’t help myself and I giggled. “Nice look. Are you okay?”
“I don’t know what the word, ‘Okay’ means. But I will say yes. I am healthy, but feel a little feathery.” He handed me a skinny, old-fashioned book.
I sucked in my breath. “Abigail’s book?”
“Yes,” he said as he pulled debris from his hair and brushed it off his clothes. “To answer your question, you, ‘Abigail’, will work on your book, while I exercise Nathan in the pasture outside the barn.”
“Come here,” I said.
He raised an eyebrow but stepped toward me.
“You have a twig sticking out of your hair.” I pulled it out.
“If anyone believes it odd that we are keeping company, we have a very good excuse.”
“Which is?” I was not going to let go of that twig. I was keeping it.
“You are writing about how General Ballard’s courageous horse, Nathan, was injured during King Philip’s war, and now heals.”
“You rock!” I raised my fist to bump his. But he looked at me, confused. “Just bump my hand, okay?”
He did. And smiled again.
* * *
I sat outside on a bale of hay next to a simple log fence that surrounded a small pasture. Abigail’s book was open on my lap.
At first Samuel let Nathan check out the pasture without a lead, all on his own. N
athan walked tentatively, sniffing the yellowing patches of grass that remained.
I was torn between watching them, and examining the book. What did she write? Were there clues in here?
After some time, Samuel approached the horse. “Come on, brave one. You need to move those legs.” He led Nathan back and forth across the pasture, examining his gait. Seeing where his muscles seemed to catch.
“In the future,” Samuel asked, “does everyone dress very fancy? Do the men and women wear wigs, like the English? Which I believe to be hideous.”
My mind shot to Chaka and Aaron, and the makeover they gave me, where they turned me into an overly made-up, trollop wannabe. “Actually people dress pretty strange in the future. Fashion changes every season, and most people can’t keep up with it.”
“How are my pants and shirt?” Samuel asked and plucked at them.
Smoking hot as long as it’s you who’s wearing them, I thought. “Fine,” I said. “You look styling. You’d almost pass for a guy living in my time.”
“What about the town you live in? It is probably larger than the garrison, with bigger houses.” He smiled and let Nathan rest.
“Almost three million people live in Chicago. Many homes are smaller, like mine. But some people, like my friend Chaka, live in skyscrapers—buildings so tall they almost touch the sky. Like the John Hancock building—it’s one hundred stories.”
Samuel shook his head. “How do they fashion wood strong enough to build that?”
“They don’t use wood. They build with metal, and glass, and other materials.”
He shook his head and patted Nathan on the shoulder. “What about transportation? I dream about the day that everyone, no matter their lot in life or their heritage, is able to ride in comfort.”
“Well, that’s a whole ’nother thing,” I said and paged through Abigail’s book. “Plane travel’s much more difficult since 9/11. TSA, long lines, and waits at the airports. But you can still fly thousands of miles in just a few hours. Amtrak trains still run. People in the cities generally use public transportation like buses, subways and L trains. Suburban commuters will carpool or hop on their local railways like Metra. Most peeps grab a cab or take public transportation if they’re in a city. Because gas prices are up, the big trend now is a car that is energy-efficient. Like a hybrid that gets great gas mileage.”
Samuel stopped in his tracks and regarded me completely confused. “I was thinking that everybody would be able to ride a horse in the future.”
Oh no. I’d gone off on a tangent. “Yes. Everyone can ride a horse in the future, Samuel. But that’s not our general way of transportation.”
“Do you think I’m simple-minded?”
“No,” I said. “I think you are kind. I think you are amazing.” I think you are stealing my heart.
“Do you have family there?” He resumed leading Nathan around the field but seemed preoccupied.
“Yes. My dad, stepmom, and my little sister.”
“A stepmom?” he asked.
“After my mama had been gone a long time, my dad married another woman. Sophie’s like another mom to me. I adore her.”
“What kind of work does your father do?” he asked.
“He helps heal people.”
“Like Angeni.”
“A little different,” I said. “But he’s still really smart and talented.”
“What’s your sister like? Pretty like you?”
I tried not to blush. “Jane’s younger than me. Cute. She’s a pain, but I miss her.”
Samuel jogged next to Nathan who picked up his pace. “I bet you miss everyone. Do you miss the young man who courts you? The one you are promised to?” he asked. For once, he wouldn’t look me in my eyes.
“Not really,” I said. “There is no promise between us.” And Brett definitely no longer ‘courted’ me.
“Oh,” Samuel said.
“Can I ask you a question?”
“Yes.”
“What were you and Tobias doing in the woods at the Endicott settlement?”
He turned and regarded me. “What do you think we were doing?”
“I don’t know.”
“Do you think we hurt those people?”
The first few times I saw him, I asked myself those same questions. But now? “No.”
“Elizabeth sent us ahead of her search party to be scouts, and to defend against any warriors who might have stayed behind.” And then he was quiet and worked silently with Nathan.
“Are you angry with me?” I asked.
“There is nothing to be angry about.”
“But you’re not talking to me now.”
“I have talked with you more than I have talked to anyone, besides Angeni.”
I scanned Abigail’s book looking for clues, and waited for him to pick up the conversation. It didn’t happen. Dusk came and went. It was past time for me to get back to Elizabeth. “Well, you let me know, when we can, you know, talk again,” I said.
He nodded his head abruptly and led Nathan to the barn.
“Thanks for the book.” I followed him.
“You best be going.”
* * *
I trekked back to Elizabeth’s house. The weather was getting cooler, and I pulled my cloak around my shoulders tightly.
Homecoming weekend had probably come and gone at Preston Academy. I wondered if Chaka was elected Homecoming Queen. Did Aaron miss me? We probably would have been each other’s dates this year, ’cause Brett was most likely going with Brianna, and I didn’t think Aaron had met anyone new.
But I’d been gone a while, and maybe he had. I hoped he met a sweet, cute guy who adored him. Life had changed, and moved on without me. And I realized—I didn’t care about Brett anymore. There was no sadness, no worry, or pit in my stomach. Brett could have gone to Homecoming, Prom, or even the moon with the beautiful red-haired girl, or an Irish potato for all I cared. I felt like a huge weight lifted off my shoulders.
I walked in the front door of Elizabeth’s house. “I’m here.” Shrugged off my cloak with more energy than I’d felt in weeks.
“I have been waiting for you,” she said.
I always got home before dark. One time I was late.
“Abigail?”
“Just a minute.” I tried to hang up my coat on the peg on the wall.
“I do not believe I have a minute,” she said. Elizabeth was collapsed on the floor next to the fireplace, clutching her stomach and grimacing. The school kids were gone, she was alone and her face was white as chalk.
I skidded onto the floor next to her. Her skirt was scrunched up toward her waist, and there was the smallest bit of blood on her hand. “Are you okay?” I asked.
She grimaced and contracted forward in pain. “A colonial girl should never be out at nighttime,” she said. “Go fetch Angeni. Now.”
Chapter 16
I raced through the garrison toward Angeni’s hut. This was completely different than the first time I bounced around this place during my botched escape attempt. It was nighttime, and the fiery torches stuck in the earth tilted all over the place, and barely lit the surroundings. The shadows in this camp jumped out like monsters in a horror movie, and I tried not to cry out.
After sundown, most of the residents were already inside their homes. Hanging out after dark wasn’t encouraged. I sped past the church and spotted one guy on sentry duty snoozing, as he slumped against the tall, wooden fence that encircled the garrison. Great. We were so protected.
I passed more houses and huts. Angeni’s hut lay in the corner, right next to the fence. I stopped myself from plowing through the thick skins that made her front door, and lifted my hand to knock. I heard chanting and singing in a foreign language coming from inside.
I pulled back the skins a half inch, peeked and caught an eyeful: Angeni was twirling in circles, just like mama used to do in her small office lined with books. Her arms and face were lifted toward the heavens as she chanted words I had nev
er heard before; her long, silver, unbraided hair flew through the air along with her skirt that spun around her ankles.
“Sa. Ta. Na. Ma,” she chanted. “Sa. Ta. Na. Ma.” She looked magical. For a second I forgot she was blind because I swear her eyes that gazed toward the heavens were a clear, brilliant blue.
I hated to interrupt her, but Elizabeth was bleeding and emergencies always beat out good manners. I slapped the thick skins that made up her door with my hand. “It’s me, Madeline,” I hissed.
Angeni pushed open the flaps and gazed toward me with clouded eyes. “What is wrong?”
“Elizabeth is bleeding. She needs you.”
“Grab my big bag on the right, a bit away from the fire. Hurry.”
I did and we left in seconds.
* * *
I tried guiding Angeni back to Elizabeth’s house through the darkness. But honestly, she led me. We arrived at the house in about half the time it took me to reach her.
Angeni kneeled next to her on the floor, her hands palpating Elizabeth’s stomach. “Do you feel the child?”
“I do not know. I had the pains, and I saw the blood.” Elizabeth hyperventilated, while sweat dripped off her forehead.
Angeni leaned in and whispered into Elizabeth’s ear. She then said to me, “We need to be alone right now. Wait outside, Madeline. Take your cloak. There is a chill in the air.”
“Are you sure? Maybe I can help?”
“Help by doing what I ask,” she said. “I will send you a message when it is time for you to return.”
* * *
Fifteen minutes went by. I had no watch but a half hour must have passed. I was freaking about what was wrong with Elizabeth. My throat grew tighter by the minute. I couldn’t afford to have a panic attack here. There was no Xanax in 1675.
I rubbed my hands together, and decided this had to be a case of bad nerves. I just needed to burn some energy. My mind flashed on the swimming pool at Preston Academy, and I remembered what it felt like to slice through the waters, doing lap after lap. But the garrison didn’t have a swimming pool.
The Messenger: Mortal Beloved Time Travel Romance, #1 Page 9