“No, it isn’t. Or at least it shouldn’t be. Tell me child, did you know a young man by the name of Alfredo Jaramillo?”
Taking a step back, Shannan smiled in recognition. “Fredo? Of course. He was one of my students. He actually went on a trip to England the same day I did. A different time period though, obviously.”
Isabella smiled and nodded at her. “He’s my father.”
An enormous smile broke out on her pretty face. “I should have known. You look just like him!” She threw her arms around Isabella and giggled into her ear. “I’m so happy he went on to great things.”
“No, Shannan. He changed the past.” The arms around her stiffened. “I come from the new timeline he created.”
“What are you talking about?” Shannan backed away, a look of disbelief finally crossing her face. “You couldn’t possibly know that, even if it were true.”
“I know because of Daniel. In your world, the middle of the North American Continent is occupied by something called Kansas. That’s where your University is. In my world, the middle of the continent—all of it—is land owned by the Choctaw-Cherokee Alliance. They supply the Republic of America with grain in exchange for complete autonomy. All the native peoples have been living there since they came to an agreement with our government in 1899.”
Shannan stared back at her, her eyes widened in alarm. Was she afraid it was true, or afraid Isabella was crazy?
“Daniel told me a bit about your history, this United States you come from,” Isabella continued. “Your economy rose to dominance during the second great war, the one where you had a despot named Hitler try to exterminate the Jews. But you see, we only had one great war in the early 1900s. And there has never been one since. The only Hitler I remember from history is an Austrian artist who is famous for one vulgar painting hanging in Hofburg Palace.”
Shannan mouthed the word artist several times, her eyes darting left and right. “So there was no mass extermination?”
“Of Jews? No, they established their own country in Mesopotamia.” Isabella shrugged. “Occasionally you’ll see one in America, but largely they keep to their own country.”
Biting down on her lower lip, Shannan swayed from foot to foot. “So the past involves Hitler the painter. What about our future… the one Alfredo created—what does that look like?”
Isabella gave a dry laugh and waved her hand over the headstones surrounding her. “This is my future. The outcome of your future is entirely up to you. If you go back to 2073, you will be alone and helpless to change what happened. But if you agree to go to 2114, then perhaps you can put the world back as it should be.”
“I – I’m not…”
Isabella held a hand up. “It’s all right. It’s a bit much to take in all at once, isn’t it? I’ve had decades to process all of this.” She let her mind drift as her eyes settled over the long crooked lines of headstones, the sheer number of them overwhelming her for a moment. “I’ll tell you what. Let’s not think about the timeline for a moment. Walk with me.” She jerked her head and turned to her left, walking in a slow diagonal toward Thorstein and Saoirse’s spot. “You can take a moment and listen to my story—from the beginning.”
Shannan nodded numbly and walked alongside her. The poor girl seemed overwhelmed.
“You know,” Isabella wrapped her arm around Shannan’s shoulders. “I was only a little older than you when I first arrived here.”
Isabella had been right about the weather. The sun beat down on them mercilessly as they made steady laps around the church yard. For hours, Isabella walked and talked, with Shannan listening intently. Round and around they went, Isabella pointing to gravestones as she passed them, even if they didn’t have anything to do with the story she was telling. For the beginning of her tale—her life in Miami—she had stationed them next to Emilio’s grave. After it came to light Annis had flogged herself, Sigbert had insisted that whatever remained of Emilio should be buried in the churchyard, making it the very first grave Isabella would visit on a regular basis, but certainly not the last.
Shannan was such a sweet girl; Isabella had no trouble understanding why Selwyn had liked and trusted her. At each stop in the cemetery, Shannan had given Isabella’s hand a small squeeze of support. Telling the girl all that had happened to her since arriving in Shaftesbury was easy, a relief even. As she came to the graves of her friends, one by one, she could finally tell the full truth to someone. It had been harder though to tell Shannan of her life in Miami. Even without knowing Mama’s true identity, Shannan had bawled unabashedly when Isabella had recounted coming home to find her in the pool. It had been hard to restrain herself from telling Shannan that Mama had been Monica, her best friend. But the sheer empathy for a stranger’s pain had driven her to tears. What must she be like when losing someone she actually knew? Actually, Isabella had had to restrain herself multiple times when discussing her parents. All she wanted to do was pump Shannan for information on her parents when they were young, in their original timeline. What were they like?
Finally, after ending their hours-long sojourn of grave visitation, Isabella had allowed Shannan to lead her out of the cemetery gates and over to the shade of the tree just outside the church where Simon laid waiting for her. Sitting against the trunk and enjoying the meager breeze, Shannan had leaned over to whisper Thank you for sharing with me into Isabella’s ear, as if she had bestowed some type of honor on her. Truly a sweet girl.
“Shannan?”
“Mmm?” She stopped petting the dog and looked up at Isabella.
“Have you decided what you think is best to do for your return trip?”
Shannan cocked an eyebrow in a look of exaggerated confusion. “There really isn’t a choice here. If I go back using my beacon, I’ll just end up in an alternate timeline with no way to fix it. Going to 2114 to talk with your father is really the only way.” She smiled. “It’s so weird to think of him as someone’s father.”
Isabella nodded. “For me it’s difficult to imagine him as a teenager.”
“It’s going to be a trick to reprogram this thing,” Shannan fingered her medallion absently. “I don’t know if I can do it without a computer.”
“I have a better idea for your return trip, if you’re willing.” Isabella reached into the woven purse hanging from her hip and pulled out the heavy clump of metal.
“What’s that?”
“It’s my beacon.” Isabella held up the crucifix so she could see it better, the mottled tangle of wires hanging out of the back. “It’s the one Emilio tried to assemble for me. But we just… didn’t have the time. I don’t know how to assemble it. Selw- Daniel said you would be able to.”
Shannan nodded assuredly, her eyes fixed firmly on the device. “And this will take me to 2114?”
“Yes. To one week after I disappeared. So you can tell them what’s happened. If they have any doubts, they can examine the coordinates in your beacon and verify where you came from.”
“Actually, my temporal displacement field is projected from an implant in my arm, not in my beacon.”
Shannan held out her hand, allowing Isabella to give her the beacon. For a moment, she simply stared at the crucifix silently, her eyes not even blinking. Then she snapped out of her momentary trance and pulled a small pin from her hair. With the crucifix laid out on the ground in front of her, Shannan began rearranging the tiny wires, both with nimble, quick fingers and with the small tool she had removed from her hair. The bulky retrieval assembly that had seemed to be too large for the exterior crucifix slid easily into the silver casing and, in less than two minutes, Shannan had connected the assembly to the tiny battery and slid the back over seamlessly into place.
With a deep breath, Shannan looked up and smiled. “Easy as pie.”
“Very impressive.” Isabella felt a sudden shard pang in her stomach, wondering what would have become of her life if Emilio had been as adept with the device.
“Isabella?” Shannan bent her he
ad, eyeing Isabella with an air of concern. “Are you all right?”
“Yes,” she coughed out. “I wonder if I might ask you for a favor.”
“Anything.”
“I can’t be sure of course, but if I’m right, you will be meeting my Father shortly after you arrive. The hardest part about my decision to stay here was knowing that I would be hurting him. I can’t even imagine what he’s been going through. I’d like to make a recording for him.”
Tears welled up in Shannan’s eyes once more. “Of course I’ll make sure he gets it.”
“Great.” Isabella let out a shaky exhale and wrapped her fingers around Simon’s front paw. “Push down twice on Jesus’ left hand.” Seeing Shannan follow her instructions, Isabella spoke up. “Computer, make a traveler log.”
Acknowledged. Do you wish to erase the current recording? The mechanized voice replied, still sharp as ever after all these years.
“No.”
“Wow, that’s—”
Isabella held a finger over her lips, silencing Shannan.
Recording will begin in 3-2-1. Begin.
Only one beat passed, then Deorca Tanner—Isabella Jaramillo—nodded her head and began to speak.
“Hello Father.” The rasp in her voice caught Isabella off guard and she cleared her throat loudly. She wanted her voice to sound like it had in her youth, though she knew that was not possible.
“I can only imagine what you’re feeling right now, looking at Shannan instead of me. But I wanted to… Papi, I wanted to say goodbye. I know after Shannan tells you where I am, you’ll want to come get me. But you can’t. Or at least you shouldn’t. To avoid a paradox, you would have to come rescue me after I met Shannan, and to be honest, I don’t want to go back to Miami. When I first landed here in England, I would have done anything to get home, to get back to you. But that was a long time ago.
“It was long enough that I can see how wrong I was—about so many things. Father, I wanted to tell you… if Etienne is still alive, please release him. What he did was horrible, but I was pretty horrible to him. And if you haven’t already, you need to schedule a requiem for Emilio Bernal. He died trying to get me home. He died because of me. I miss you so much, and I know you miss me too. I’ve thought of you every day. Even on the boring days, though there haven’t been many of those. I wanted so much to share all I’ve done with you. All I’ve accomplished. On the big days of my life, I wanted to call you or write you and tell you what happened. I’m only sorry that I can only give you an abbreviated version now.
“Shannan may have already told you, but I worked as a tanner—the only woman tanner. I’m retired now of course, but that was my job and I was good at it, even though I never got over how gross it all is. But to look at something and know that I made it with just my hands. Papi, there’s no feeling like it in the world.
“I got married too. My husband was a priest if you can believe it. I think you would have liked him. He had that no-nonsense demeanor you like so much. He was a wonderful man and I loved him. He was with me for just under ten years before he died. Of course I never had children, but I’ve been a kind of mother. Our nobleman here… he lost his wife early. So I helped raise the children—three of them. There have been others of course—friends—who needed help over the years. So I’ve helped raise at least fifteen children. They’re all grown now of course. I know you weren’t happy about… my decision. And ultimately you were right. I was a good mother after all, even though I didn’t give birth to any of them.”
Isabella broke off, tears threatening to choke her already dry throat. It wasn’t enough. This wasn’t enough to assure him that she had done the right thing by staying. If anything, Isabella felt a horrible surety that her message was only going to make her father feel worse. She should have written this in advance.
“Isabella?” Shannan whispered, bringing her back to the present.
Shaking her head free from her doubts, Isabella continued. “I know what you did, Papi. I know that somehow you changed the timeline.” Isabella squared her shoulders and swallowed hard, making her voice as clear as it could be. “I know that none of us should have ever existed. I know that the thought of resetting, of undoing history as it stands now, is scary. I think Shannan can set everything right, if you’ll let her. I’m not sure how that will affect me, but I think you should help her, Papi. I know it will be a hard decision, especially for the rest of the council, but you should. You should make amends for what you did.”
She paused to take a breath. “I’m actually making this recording in the cemetery, where I come more often than I care to admit to stare at the headstones of my husband, my friends, and a few enemies, even though it doesn’t ease the pain of their passing. Just like I know listening to this recording won’t ease your pain. I’ll be honest, I don’t have much now, just a dog and a sort-of legendary status. But I’ve had a good life, a righteous life, which to be honest I doubt I would have had in Miami.
“I hope, through it all, that I’ve made amends, the way I’m asking you to. I hope I’ve made up for the hurt I’ve caused, the damage I’ve done, even if it’s indirectly. Because ultimately, our time together is done in this life, Papi. I can’t tell you how much I look forward to seeing you in the next one.”
She nodded at Shannan, tears squeezing out of her eyes as she watched the girl whisper end recording into the crucifix.
“Was that good? Do you think it will help him?”
Shannan smiled warmly and leaned forward to place her cool hand on Isabella’s. “I think that was just right.”
28
The chamber was silent save Alfredo’s muffled sobs. He did nothing to hide his tears, and as Shannan watched the unabashed despair of her former student, a heavy wave of sadness washed over her. It should never have been like this.
“Is that all?” Gabriel’s voice was soft, sad, as he asked his question.
“Yes,” she whispered, astonished at how painful it was for her to listen to the recording. She had been sitting right there with Isabella as she had spoken her message, and in an abstract way, she knew Alfredo would be sad about Isabella’s decision. But being here, seeing him—now it was real. She was not yet a mother, but even still she could understand what he must be feeling. Isabella was his baby, his child, his world. And now she was gone.
“I’m sorry, Fredo.” The tears spilled down her cheeks as she raised her eyes towards the council table. “I’m so sorry.”
Alfredo took in a shaky breath, looking up at the ceiling and trying to swallow the sobs that choked him. “She sounded happy,” he gasped out.
Shannan clenched her jaw, fighting back a sob of her own as she wondered if she could have handled this situation better. It was an illogical reaction, given what Alfredo had done to her. But old habits die hard, and Shannan could not bear to see the boy who had grown to a man so crippled by his grief.
“I believe she was happy,” she said, remembering the weather-worn smile on Isabella’s face.
“She’s really gone,” he whispered, apparently to himself. He stared down at his hands, silent for a moment. Then his brow furrowed and he pulled his head up, as if he had just remembered something.
“Councilman Canaan,” he cleared his throat. “If the council votes to correct the timeline alteration, will Isabella be affected?”
He was looking down the table at the South Asian man, who reclined in his seat and tapped his chin thoughtfully. After a moment, he looked up, right into Shannan’s eyes, causing her to blush; she had been staring at him.
“You journeyed to Shaftesbury specifically to meet Isabella?” he asked, still seeming to be making calculations in his head.
“She was known as Deorca, yes.”
He gave a satisfied nod. “When Danforth sent her back in time without a temporal displacement field, she became a part of the 9th century. Her existence was documented in your history books. I imagine if we do some research, we’ll find her in ours as well. Regardless of our c
ourse of action, Isabella will live and die in post-Roman Britain.”
Several of the councilmember’s faces darted in confusion, as they tried to sort out the messy elements of time travel. It was that very “messiness” that had steered Shannan into engineering, where two plus two always equaled four.
“Now,” Canaan continued. “Assuming the council votes to repair this schism, then—”
“Excuse me, Councilman,” Shannan interrupted. “You said if the council votes to correct the timeline?”
Canaan gave her probing look, then one curt nod.
“Forgive me, I don’t understand. Alfredo has confirmed my story. You know for a fact this timeline was created artificially by the murder of—”
“It was an accident, God damn you!”
Shannan jolted backward, unable to restrain herself. Stop yelling at me, you bastard! She swallowed hard and clenched her teeth, willing the litany of renewed hateful intentions toward Alfredo out of her head.
The men at the council table seemed uncomfortable, as if they didn’t know where to look. They avoided eye contact with Alfredo, whose whole demeanor was the very antithesis of the strong, silent masculinity they all seemed to prefer. They also avoided looking at Shannan as she flinched.
Maybe they want to avoid humanizing me.
She had to be careful here, but she couldn’t just slink away without impressing upon them the importance of what she was asking them. She started again.
“Please forgive my confusion, Councilman Canaan.” She turned her eyes to Gabriel, careful not to look as if she were making a demand. “I was under the impression that the purpose of this council was to preserve the correct timeline. As such, I assumed you were all are duty-bound to do everything in your power to restore it.”
“It is not so simple, I’m afraid,” Gabriel said quietly, twisting his wedding ring around his finger.
“Isn’t it? I see no complicating factors.” She lowered her voice, hoping for a neutral tone. “Other than your fear, of course.”
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