Once in a Blue Moon

by Kathryn Kelly

She threw open the lid and rummaged through. She found the same tintype she’d seen before. The one with her parents holding her as an infant. But nothing seemed to have been added.

  Disappointed, she closed the trunk, stood up, and looked around. There was a smaller trunk that didn’t look familiar. It looked newer – more modern.

  She opened the lid and found a stack of books. One was a journal written by Christopher Becquerel. She’d read that later.

  Another brought a catch to her breath. The family Bible. It took both hands to drag the heavy book out of the trunk. She went quickly to the list of births and deaths. Most of the names she didn’t recognize.

  But two of them, she did.

  Ericka Becquerel. Died 1901.

  Charles Becquerel. Died June 12, 1863 from infection resulting from leg amputation.

  “No!” Her hands trembling, she sat back and stared straight ahead, past the spider webs and sunlight streaming in through the little dormer windows.

  She had been there. She had met her father.

  Not only had she met her father in 1863, but she had fallen in love. She had fallen in love with the man who killed her father.

  Chapter 63

  Augustus made his last entry for the day and closed his journal. He would have to provide an accounting of all his patients when he was reunited with the main army. He would be reprimanded for not sending a report already, but he wanted his men here. Not only were their numbers dwindling fast, but also the reports coming out of Vicksburg were disturbing to say the least.

  A part of him regretted not being there to help out with the siege, but another part of him, a much larger part was relieved that he and his men weren’t trapped in the hell that was Vicksburg. He’d heard that the civilians had taken to hiding out in caves in order to survive the shelling. The idea was preposterous.

  He poured a glass of sherry and sat in front of the window. There was a breeze tonight, offering a much needed respite from the insufferable heat. It was no wonder men were dying right and left. Marching around in heavy uniforms in this heat.

  He swirled his drink and embraced his overall general bad mood. He missed Arabella. He missed her with every breath.

  He longed to feel her soft lips against his. To hear her laugh. To hear her ideas. She was by far the most intelligent woman he had ever met. She’d said she went to college for quite some time. She’d told him that she’d learned to be a good listener in college.

  He supposed it was possible. One of those woman things like embroidering and knitting. How did one study listening anyway? He couldn’t deny that it was effective. Grown men would tell her anything. Himself included.

  Now that he’d talked with Charles, he wanted to learn more about her life in the future.

  A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts.

  “Sir, Mister Charles requested that you come downstairs.”

  Augustus set down his drink and slid into his shoes. He’d begun to think of Charles as more of a friend than a patient. That was never a good idea. His objectivity had blurred and he’d allowed Charles’ infection to go on longer than he should have. He only prayed it didn’t cost him his life. When – not if – Arabella returned, he didn’t want it on his head to have to tell her what happened to him.

  He padded down the hallway and made his way down the stairs as the grandfather clock chimed nine times. He was normally sitting with Arabella around this time each night. It was astounding how quickly she’d become part of his life.

  He reached the study where Charles slept on a pallet on the floor. His friend did not look well. He looked pale and weak. More so than this morning when Augustus had last seen him.

  “Doc,” Charles said. Charles never called him Doc. It was always Augustus. Something was not right.

  “Villars said you asked for me.”

  “Yes.” He shifted and grimaced. “It’s time. It’s time for you to take my leg.”

  Chapter 64

  Arabella had things to do. Spurred into action by the knowledge that her father was about to die – in 1863 - inadvertently at the hand of the man she loved, she made some phone calls. She called in a favor from a physician assistant at the ER where she worked. It took doing to navigate the questions about where she’d been, but finally, her friend cooperated.

  She made a flying trip to the local pharmacy to pick up a prescription for augmentin, and grabbed some iodine antiseptic off the shelf. Such simple things that could so easily save a life. If only they were available.

  The girl behind the counter informed her that it would be another hour before the antibiotic prescription would be ready. Arabella walked around the store twice, then stepped outside and took pictures of her car with her phone. She also took pictures of the downtown street crawling with pedestrians as well as other vehicles.

  Unable to think of anything else to pass the time, she went back and sat in a chair near the pharmacy counter.

  She was immediately drawn back to the picture she’d taken of her and Augustus. His look of bewilderment would have been funny if it had been anyone else. Instead, it brought tears to her eyes. She loved his silky dark hair, his face with an almost perpetual five o’clock shadow. She knew he shaved when he could, but didn’t take the time to shave daily.

  She touched the image of his oh so kissable lips and longed to feel them on hers again. Even in the picture, she could see how perfectly, her head fit beneath his chin. She imagined the way his strong arms wrapped around her and held her close. Safe.

  Please my love. Please don’t do it. Don’t kill my father.

  She couldn’t hate Augustus for it. It wasn’t his fault. It was merely what physicians did in that time. The same people of the future would read about chemo and shake their heads. They’ll wonder how people could been so…

  “Miss Becquerel.”

  Arabella jumped up, closed her phone and dashed to the counter. Finally. She needed to get back to the house.

  Now came the hard part.

  How on earth was she going to get back to 1863?

  Chapter 65

  A group of wounded soldiers came to their doorstep the next day and interrupted Augustus’ plan to amputate Charles’ leg.

  Although Augustus knew he could have the leg off in a matter of ten minutes, he welcomed the delay. Although he knew it might save the man’s life, he also knew that it carried risks. Risks and a life of being unwhole.

  Once a limb was taken from a man, he was never the same again. Especially a man like Charles. A man who spent time every day on a horse, minding his plantation.

  The damnable war had completely destroyed a way of life. Not just for the soldiers, but for each family and even each individual who was touched by it. And could anyone living in the south not be touched by the war? It came to their doorstep and forced its way inside.

  He’d taken care of all the men. There was no further reason to delay. Nonetheless, Augustus dragged his feet to the study. When he peeked into the room, he saw that Charles was sleeping peacefully. “Well hell.” He backed quietly out of the room. How long had it been since the man had a good sleep? He wasn’t about to wake him from what could be delightful dreams only to saw his damn leg off.

  He stopped by the kitchen for a glass of cold lemonade and went to sit on the back porch. The lemons reminded him of his friend Stonewall Jackson. Let’s meet on the other side of the river, he had said upon his death.

  Augustus could only hope that he could meet his own death with such dignity. War. Augustus hated this war. Everything about it.

  But mostly he missed Arabella. She had been the one who could liven his mood with just a glance and her smile had brightened his world.

  Augustus was no good without her. She’d come into his life and branded his heart. Without her, he floundered. No purpose. No joy. When she left, she took the light with her.

  Chapter 66

  Arabella sat on the couch reading Christopher’s journal. Christopher had given up his birthright as the o
ldest son to chase his dream of being a soldier. He’d left Charles in an impossible situation as a result – feeling forced to marry a woman he didn’t love.

  Nonetheless, there had been a happy ending. Her father had found her mother. Or she had found him. However it worked.

  She wondered what Christopher was doing now. Was he fighting in the Civil War? She corrected herself. Had he fought in the war?

  It was difficult to remember that the war was not being fought at this very moment when her heart and soul were in 1863.

  Here in 2018, she had nothing. No parents. No grandparents. No siblings. No family at all to keep her here. All she had was her work and she was fairly certain that bridge had been burned. Only now did she realize how much her life revolved around her work. She’d been absent without leave. Other than calling on her friend for some antibiotics, she’d made no phone call. No text. Nothing. Certainly no paperwork for time off. She scoffed at the inanity of it all.

  A man’s very life hung in the balance. And not just any man. Her father.

  She set the journal aside and stretched out on the sofa. Perhaps she’d take a nap. She adjusted her skirts, checking her pockets as she’d done a hundred times over the past two days. She finally tacked them together with safety pins so nothing would fall out. In her left pocket, she had the bottle of antibiotics and the antiseptic. In her right pocket she had her cell phone and a little battery pack for charging. She hadn’t changed clothes for two days. If she went back in time, she wanted to make certain she had the medicine needed for her father.

  She had no explanation for wanting to take the cell phone.

  She closed her eyes and allowed her thoughts to wander back to Augustus. She missed him. Missed everything about him.

  Someone was at the door. She waited for Jerry to get it. Jerry must have been out back because he didn’t seem to hear the person knocking.

  They knocked again. Louder this time.

  Groaning, she pulled herself off the sofa. She’d just been on the edge of sleep in that wonderful place where everything was good.

  She opened the front door.

  And stood face-to-face with Matthew Caldwell Jennings, III.

  “My God, Arabella!” His face was contorted in anger. “Where the hell have you been?”

  Arabella turned and without answering, walked away from him.

  He grabbed her arm, stopping her. “What in God’s name are you wearing?”

  She jerked her elbow from his hand and glanced down at her long dress. It was one of her favorites. It was a dark green with a black sash around the waist. The color reminded her of the dress Scarlett had made out of her mother’s portieres in Gone with the Wind. The dress had a high neckline which was particularly comfortable and nonrevealing when tending to soldiers. She was wearing a wired caged crinoline, moderate in size, and she’d learned to maneuver it quite well. She liked the way the hoop swayed slightly around her when she walked. She was wearing her own lace up boots and considered herself to be tastefully dressed.

  She lifted her chin. “What are you doing here?”

  He crossed his arms. “Looking for you.” He ran his eyes down to the bottom of her skirt and back up again. “You’ve been missing for over three weeks. You haven’t been at work. You haven’t answered my calls. Nothing.”

  She scowled at him. “I’m over twenty-one.”

  “Where’s your ring?”

  Chapter 67

  “Go ahead and do it already.”

  Augustus studied his friend Charles lying in the huge poster bed. Yesterday, he had had some soldiers carry Charles up to his bedroom – the bedroom Arabella had been sleeping in.

  Though Charles was beneath two heavy blankets, he was still having chills. “You were adamant about waiting for your wife to get here.”

  “And you were adamant about the urgency of doing the amputation.” Charles was feverish and he was weak, the dark blotches under his eyes making him look older.

  Augustus didn’t have the heart to tell him. Taking his leg wasn’t going to save him. They’d waited too long. Augustus had been swayed by personal feelings and now Charles was paying the ultimate price.

  His life.

  Chapter 68

  Her ring.

  Arabella glanced down at her ringless hand. She’d completely forgotten. The ring he’d given her was too large, so she’d taken it to the jewelry shop to have it resized. It had completely slipped her memory to pick it up. “It’s being resized, remember?”

  “That was months ago.”

  “I’ve been preoccupied.”

  “Have you joined one of those re-enactor groups? I saw a group dressed like you on my way through downtown.”

  “And if I have?”

  “Why are you embarrassing me like this?”

  “What I do has nothing to do with you.”

  “Have you gone insane? We’re engaged to be married. You didn’t even bother to be there for the charity event. I’m trying to make partner.”

  “It’s all about you.”

  “That’s right. You said you’d help me.”

  “Well, that was before,” she said softly.

  Matthew scoffed. “Before what? Before you lost your mind?”

  “There’s no need to be offensive.” She kept her voice low.

  “I never thought you’d run off to join one of those reenacting groups.”

  “I never took you to be an asshole.”

  He grabbed her arm again. This time his fingers ground around her wrist. “Stop it. You’re hurting me.” She tugged away and her sleeve ripped as her arm twisted.

  “Hey!” Jerry called from the back door. “What’s going on?”

  “I’m taking her out of here.” He turned and started pulling her with him toward the door.

  “No.” Arabella’s eyes were moist from the pain in her arm.

  “Let her go.” Jerry stepped forward and grabbed Matthew by the collar, jerking his head back.

  “Quit it, old man.”

  Jerry punched him in the jaw. He released Arabella and she fell to the floor.

  As Matthew rubbed his jaw, Jerry stood face-to-face with him. “You busted my lip!”

  “Yeah, you hurt her wrist.”

  Matthew scoffed.

  Jerry punched him again, this time in the stomach. “Don’t you ever put your hands on a woman again.”

  “I’m her fiancé.”

  “All the more reason for you to protect her, not hurt her, you idiot.”

  Jerry turned to Arabella. “Do you want him around?”

  She massaged her wrist while trying to hold her hoop skirt down. She was contemplating how she was going to get off the floor while tangled in her hoop and skirts. She looked up at Matthew – the man she’d agreed to marry.

  As she studied the man wearing a paisley tie and navy suit jacket, she didn’t really know him. They’d seemed compatible at first, then they’d fallen into a routine. Date night on Friday. Other than that they mostly saw each other only at social events, like the charity event she’d apparently missed. “I think he needs to go.”

  Jerry turned him around, pointed him toward the door.

  “I want my ring back.” Matthew said over his shoulder.

  “You can pick it up at the jewelry store.” She said, but she wasn’t sure he even heard her. It didn’t matter. Jerry shoved him out the door and came to help her off the floor. “Thank you. You’re a good man Jerry.”

  Jerry escorted her back to the sofa. He hadn’t made any comments about the way she was dressed. “It’s what we do. We take care of family.”

  Chapter 69

  Augustus sat out on the veranda in the swing and listened to the grandfather clock chiming the hour. The sound always reminded him of Arabella. He sighed. Everything reminded him of Arabella.

  It was time for him to make a decision. A courier had brought a letter not more than an hour ago. He’d been ordered to send his men toward Vicksburg to attack the Federals from behind.


  How could he in good conscience send his men to that hell-hole? Vicksburg was a lost cause no matter how many men President Jefferson Davis insisted on sacrificing to protect it. They were too outnumbered. His handful of soldiers would be slapped down like mere mosquitoes.

  He also still had sick men here to tend. They weren’t coming as often, only two in the last week, but men still needed his attention, especially Charles.

  Then there was Arabella. He’d vowed to himself to wait here for her no matter how long it took. If he left here, he may never see her again. Charles had said that his love had brought Ericka back to him. If that was true, then Augustus couldn’t risk leaving. What if it was this house that had something to do with the time travel?

  Charles had said that Ericka’s brother had traveled through time in New Orleans, but his love had lived there.

  He crumpled up the paper and tossed it down the stairs.

  Augustus had to decide if he was willing to commit treason for Arabella.

  Chapter 70

  Arabella didn’t bother to wipe away the tears that streamed down her cheeks. Though she’d assured Jerry that she was okay, the truth was she wasn’t okay.

  Seeing her fiancé, had made her realize the mess her attempts at being rational and unemotional had made. She’d let herself get caught in a relationship that was not only distant, but would have been toxic if she’d stayed. As a psychologist, she considered herself a good judge of character. Now all those thoughts about herself were brought into question.

  She’d opened herself up to Augustus. Had allowed herself to get emotionally close. And now here she was – hundreds of years apart from the one man she’d fallen in love with.

  And now, reflecting on Jerry’s statement about family, she felt all alone in the world. She had one friend at the ER, but that was a work friend. Now her only friend it seemed was the carpenter.