by Connie Lacy
“That’s the gist of it,” Eric replied.
“You mean we’re stuck here?” she said, jumping up and pacing about the room like a caged animal.
“There were no ripe figs on the bush anyway,” I said. “That’s why I was trapped here waiting for a second crop.” Which caused Ginny to avert her eyes.
Lord, what would become of us? We were all so ignorant. No skills we could use in this era. Even Eric, with his PhD, might find it hard to survive. He couldn’t prove he had a doctorate. And Mallory – she might be in the greatest danger of all. 1840 was not a good time to be a black woman in the deep south.
Amadahy must’ve read my mind.
“We will help you,” she said.
Our voices woke Betsey who’d been napping on the bed. She looked around in alarm, calming down once she saw her mother sitting across from me at the table. Ginny hurried to gather her up, delivering her to Amadahy’s arms.
As I watched the loving mother and daughter, my eyes came to rest on the two jars of fig preserves sitting on the sideboard behind them, visible now because Mallory had left the table.
“What was it Nana said about those fig preserves when she got here?” I said.
“She said her daughter helped pick ‘em,” Ginny replied.
I turned to Mallory. “Tell me how it came about that you and Nana arrived here together. Everything that happened.”
“It started when you showed up at work with that sore shoulder. I happen to know from my sister that’s a sign of a man yanking a woman’s arms behind her back, you know.” And she gave me a look. “When you called in sick on Friday, I was pissed, thinking you were hiding a black eye or something. I tried to call you, but you never answered, never called me back, didn’t respond to my texts or emails. I was about to call the cops but then I remembered you were close to your grandmother. I looked up that article where she was quoted about that weird shooting to get her name, then found her address online. I drove to her house in Athens and told her about my suspicions. She said no, your boyfriend was a nice guy. Which I didn’t believe for one minute. But she said you’d been trying to help her new neighbor who had a violent husband. So I drove her to the cabin. When we went inside, she found your clothes and your phone in a backpack in her bedroom. She got really concerned then. We left by the back door but she stopped and said she forgot something. It was those two jars of figs. We hiked through the woods till we came to the river. Then she picked two figs off a huge bush. She said I should eat mine and follow her. I wasn’t keen on putting that yucky brown thing in my mouth, but I played along. And presto, we arrived here just in time to see that caveman waving his big gun around.”
Ginny grabbed the jars and quickly set them on the table in front of me. I mouthed “thank you,” which drew a self-conscious smile.
“You think?” Eric said.
“Would the figs still work if they were cooked?” I asked Amadahy.
She stroked Betsey’s hair, lost in thought. “I do not know.”
Eric unscrewed the ring, but the cap beneath it wouldn’t budge.
“Vacuum packed,” he said.
Degataga slid his knife across the table, which Eric eyed warily. It was the same one that had killed Jonah.
“It is clean,” Degataga said. “Washed in the river.”
Eric carefully pried the cap loose.
“Can I have a fork?” Mallory said.
Ginny handed her a three-tined fork which she used to lift a large, gooey brown fig from the jar. She started to put it in her mouth, dripping syrup on the table.
“Wait!” I cried. “You have to eat it as you…”
“Right,” she said, promptly walking out the door, leaving a trail of fig syrup behind her.
“Mallory!” I said, jumping up to follow her. “I need to talk with you first.”
“Make it quick,” she said.
“You know you can’t tell anyone about this, right?” I said, hurrying after her.
She didn’t reply until we reached the charred remains of the hut.
“I get it, I get it!” she said, whirling around to face me.
“Do you?”
The baby babbled contentedly behind us, the others having followed as well.
“You want me to swear on a stack of Bibles?” she said.
“I’d like for you to think long and hard about the damage that could be done if you talk about this. For one thing, your career might suddenly come to a screeching halt when everyone decides you’ve lost your mind. But, more importantly, traveling to the past could really screw up the future. I may have already caused a slew of people in our time to disappear.”
“What’re you talking about?”
“That guy you called a caveman was my fifth great-grandfather.”
Her eyes were like saucers.
“I’m not sure what’ll happen if I go back through the doorway,” I said.
“You mean you might go… poof?”
“Kathryn,” Eric said, stepping forward, “I think if Jonah really was your ancestor, it would’ve happened already.”
“I don’t know. It’s not like we have an instruction manual. I mean, here in 1840, I haven’t been born yet, but I exist. What if it happens when I return to my own time?”
No one spoke for a moment, all of us lost in our own thoughts.
“So you might stay here?” Mallory asked.
A small lift of the shoulders was all I could manage.
“Jesus,” she whispered, then gave me a long hug. “First things first.” She blinked back tears. “I’ll be the guinea pig. That way, at least we’ll know if these cooked figs do the trick. Because no way, no how am I staying in a time when slavery still exists.”
“Before you go…” Eric said, touching her arm. “Can you let me add my parents’ number to your contacts?”
She responded with a confused look.
“In case I don’t come back,” he said.
Her expression softened as it dawned on her what he was suggesting. She handed him the phone and, without a moment’s hesitation, he took off for the river.
“Hey!” Mallory cried. “What the hell?”
He reached the riverbank before she figured out what was going on and watched as he heaved her smartphone into the water.
“Are you freaking crazy? That’s my phone!” She kicked one of the charred boards at her feet, causing it to crumble.
“I saw you taking pictures and shooting video,” he called out, trotting toward us again.
“Damn you! All my contacts are in there. Important contacts.”
“You’ll survive,” he said.
She seemed on the verge of a serious rant, but as she looked from Eric to me, and then the others, it was like she realized how insignificant it was in the great scheme of things.
Then she stepped carefully around the debris until she reached the spot where she’d arrived in the past.
“Is this the doorway?” she said.
“It is,” Amadahy replied.
“Okay,” she said. “Hopefully, I’ll see you guys on the other side. You, because it would be way too much trouble to train a new producer.” Then she shifted her attention to Eric. “And you, so I can kick your ass!” Turning to Amadahy and Degataga, her voice softened. “I wish both of you the best of luck.” And then she offered her new friend some parting advice. “Ginny, remember, freedom is coming. Don’t give up hope. But it’s still a couple of decades away and it’ll take a long war between the north and the south to make it happen. So, whatever you do, stay out of harm’s way.”
“Yes ma’am,” Ginny said.
“And it’s not gonna be pretty,” Mallory muttered under her breath.
Then she put the soft fig in her mouth, tossing the fork on the ground behind her. As I held my breath, she stepped forward through the space where the back door used to be and vanished into the ether.
Ginny gasped. So did I.
~
Eric tried to take my hand as
we strolled along the riverbank but I pulled away.
“You can’t be serious?” I said.
“Ah, but you’re mistaken,” he replied.
He had offered to stay in the past with me if I decided it was too risky to follow Mallory back to our own time. But he had a life, a career, a bright future ahead of him.
“I won’t let you sacrifice yourself,” I said.
Although, truth be told, the selfish part of me wanted desperately for him to stay. The thought of being separated from him for the rest of my life was unbearable.
“You don’t really think I’m leaving without you.” He stopped in his tracks, taking my hand in his. “I love you, Kathryn. And, as I think I made abundantly clear, you’re the only comely wench I ever want to have sexual congress with for the rest of my life, regardless of whether we’re in the twenty-first century or the nineteenth.”
“But…”
“And it’s not only the sexual congress I’m worried about,” he continued. “It’s the eyes too. I’d be lost without your skeptical, know-it-all eyes looking into mine. And the melodious voice.”
“You are so full of it.”
“You do have a melodious voice. Although it does occasionally veer towards a high-pitched security alarm going off.” He laughed, pulling me into his arms. “If you stay, I stay. We’ll move to the big city of… let’s see, what’s a big city right now? Savannah. Charleston. Although maybe we should move up north so we don’t get caught up in the Civil War. How about Philadelphia? I’ll become a teacher and you can be a newspaperwoman.”
“This is serious, Eric,” I said.
“Believe me, I know it is.”
He kissed me, a kiss that was full of love and commitment.
“You once said you loved me too,” he whispered. “You haven’t changed your mind, I hope.”
“No, I haven’t changed my mind. I do love you. Rather a lot, in fact. It’s just that…”
He kissed me again.
Relief washed over me. But it was short-lived as I realized the enormity of our situation. It was one thing for him to volunteer to stay with me in the heat of emotion; quite another to live the life he’d have to live in the eighteen hundreds. If he thought there was prejudice and injustice in our own time, the depth and breadth of discrimination and oppression in this time was mind-boggling. Living in a world where slavery existed would, no doubt, try our souls. Even after it was abolished, the intense racism of the nineteenth century would be impossible to accept. Not to mention the pathetic state of women’s rights.
We were quiet on the way back to the house. Like me, he was probably imagining what life would be like without running water, electricity, air conditioning, telephones, computers – the list went on and on. There was also the challenge of making a living and figuring out how to accomplish the most basic life skills – building a fire, cooking, taking care of ourselves. And then there was the challenge of birth control. Having a baby in the nineteenth century was out of the question. Medicine was primitive. Childbirth was downright dangerous. Besides, I couldn’t quite figure out what it might do to the timeline and my family tree.
My words to Mallory came back to me. It was true, staying here in the past meant there was a risk of changing history. What if our very presence screwed things up? Every interaction we had with other people caused changes, some of them rather significant, like Jonah’s death. God, it was exhausting to think about!
We found Degataga and Amadahy seated at the table, Betsey on her mother’s lap. Ginny stood by the window, a dreamy look on her face. It was obvious they, too, had been discussing the future. They were as vulnerable as we were.
We sat across from them.
“You have decided your plan?” said Amadahy.
“If Kathryn stays, I stay with her,” Eric announced.
“We welcome you to live with us,” she said.
“We can teach you,” Degataga said, his eyes fixed on Eric.
Betsey slapped the table with her hands, smiling at her mother. She spoke as though she were actually saying something in her baby talk. Amadahy gave her a kiss, then turned to me.
“I see the echo of her father’s kind spirit in Little Butterfly’s eyes. When I look into your eyes, I also see a warm spirit. I do not believe you are descended from Bad Brother. I would feel it here.” She placed her hand over her heart. “I also believe if you were Bad Brother’s granddaughter, you would never be born.”
But good people did come from bad people, and bad from good. So I didn’t put too much stock in her words about my warm spirit being proof I didn’t descend from Jonah. But the more I thought about her other comment, the more I agreed. If Jonah had really been my fifth great-grandfather, his death would’ve already rippled through time. And I reached my decision.
“You need to get rid of his horse, weapons, clothes, razor and any other personal stuff like that,” I said. “If anyone comes searching for him, it should look like he packed up and left town.”
“Yes,” Degataga said.
“I’ll write Sheriff Moon telling him Jonah went out west to prospect for gold,” I said. “You have anything I could write a short letter on?”
Amadahy brought me a rough sheet of paper, a small bottle of ink and a quill.
“I’m used to a different kind of pen,” I said. “Can you write down what I say?”
She sat at the table, opened the ink, dipped the tip of the quill and waited for me to speak.
“Sheriff Moon,” I began, and Amadahy scratched out my words. “I shall never forgive you for releasing me to Jonah Barnes.” I waited as she wrote. “After he beat me into revealing where another gold nugget was hidden, he stole it from me.” I paused. “He also forced me to tell him exactly where my brother-in-law is panning for gold in California.” Again, I waited. “I wish him the worst luck possible as a prospector. He is a wicked man. I am returning to my home and hope never to see you or your jail again. Sincerely, Kathryn Murray.”
“How do you spell your name?” she asked.
I told her and she signed my name in her distinctive handwriting, blowing on the ink.
“It might be a nice touch if the letter is delivered to the sheriff by U.S. Mail from another town,” I suggested. “If anyone comes around asking about him, you could say he decided he’d had enough of the farmer’s life and left for California to look for gold.”
“I like it,” Eric said.
I stood, picked up the open jar of figs and gestured for Eric to accompany me to the portal. The others followed us outside.
“I hope your lives are happy,” I said, looking at each of them as I tried to keep my voice from breaking. “That’s all I ever wanted.”
“You and Old Grandmother will not be forgotten,” Amadahy said.
Handing the jar to Eric, I wrapped my arms around her, giving her a hug that took her by surprise. Once more, I had to remind myself she was only eighteen years old. Amazing, considering all she’d been through.
“You won’t be forgotten either,” I said, tears threatening to fall. “You’re truly an inspiration to me. I hope with all my heart that your bad times are over.”
I kissed little Betsey on the cheek and embraced Ginny.
“I wish you the best, Ginny.”
“You too, Miss Kathryn.”
Then I turned to Degataga. “Thank you, Standing Together. Your name is fitting. You are a loyal, honorable man.”
If Jonah wasn’t my fifth great-grandfather, then Degataga must be. I remembered Nana being delighted when she found out from the family history that one of Amadahy’s daughters was named Edith. Which might mean she and I were descended from that child.
“I believe you’re my fifth great-grandfather,” I said, trying to memorize his features and the warmth of his dark eyes.
“I would be proud to call you granddaughter,” he said.
Eric reached out to shake Degataga’s hand.
“I will write more in my diary,” Amadahy said. “You
will find it in my hiding place.”
Blinking furiously, I pulled Eric with me to the portal. Using our fingers, each of us extracted a wet fig from the jar.
“I’ll go first,” I said.
Eric grinned. “I’ll be right behind you.”
But what if Amadahy was wrong? What if I ceased to exist when I crossed the portal? My hand shaking, I placed the syrupy fig in my mouth. But I couldn’t bring myself to lift my foot.
Living here in this time might not be so awful. I could learn how to gut a fish. And sew by hand. I could adjust to using an outhouse and a chamber pot. Amadahy and Degataga would let us live here on the farm and teach us how to survive. And then maybe we could move somewhere so we could make a living.
But surely she was right. If I was descended from Jonah, when he died, my existence and Nana’s existence would’ve been erased. We would never have been born and I wouldn’t be standing here. I would never have met Eric, so he wouldn’t be here either. But he was! He was right behind me, patiently waiting for me to cross through the time gate back to where we belonged.
So I bit down on the sweet fig and crossed the threshold where the back door of the hut used to be.
26
The familiar buzzing filled my ears and dizziness almost made me fall, but I steadied myself, then spun around in time to watch Eric emerge, fig juice dripping down his chin because his smile was so big.
“Kathryn!” he whispered. “Thank God!”
He drew me into a fierce embrace, nearly squeezing the air from my lungs. When he pulled back to look at me, there were tears on his face. He hugged me again and we rocked gently back and forth. His calm, reassuring demeanor had been a bluff. It was obvious now he’d been as scared as I was. It was only when he wiped the tears from my cheeks that I realized I was crying too.