The Going Back Portal

by Connie Lacy

  “We’re quite a pair,” I said.

  “Of gonads,” he said, laughing.

  “Gonads?”

  “You’ve gotta admit, we’ve got balls, the both of us.”

  I slapped him playfully on the shoulder. “I don’t have balls!”

  He swooped me up like a prince carrying a princess. “And for that, I’m very grateful,” he whispered and then kissed me.

  When he set me down, I looked around the now empty clearing, thinking of our last moments on the farm.

  “Amadahy’s diary!” I cried. “She was going to write more in her diary!”

  I almost crossed through the space where the time gate was, but, nervous about accidentally returning to 1840, I walked around to the other side, entering from where the front of the shack had been. I got to my knees where I remembered her lifting the book out on my first visit, set the jar of figs down that I’d accidentally brought with me, and swept the leaves and pine straw aside with my hands. Together, we brushed away a layer of dirt until we came to the remains of the blanket, now mostly disintegrated. Below that, we discovered more dirt. We scraped until our fingers touched something that was hard as rock. But it wasn’t a rock. It was a flat surface made of rusted iron.

  It was the same strong box I’d seen in the past. Eric grunted as he lifted it from its hiding place, setting it on the ground beside the hole.

  “It’s gotta weigh fifty pounds,” he said, sweeping dirt from the lid, then wiping his hands on his pants.

  “Is it locked?”

  “No lock.” He slowly lifted the lid.

  Inside was a blanket, tattered and faded.

  I clapped my hands together, then wiped them repeatedly on my skirt. As I reached inside, he stopped me.

  “We should wait till we get home,” he said. “The pages might crumble.”

  “You think?”

  “You brought the original diary with you so the paper wasn’t that old. This paper has been stored underground all these years.”

  He dragged the heavy box as I tramped through the woods behind him, my mind flitting from one thought to another.

  “I never thought to ask why you came looking for me,” I said.

  “If you want to know the truth, I was a little suspicious when you told me you couldn’t come to the wedding. All that stuff about your grandmother. I tried to reach you over and over yesterday before the ceremony, and then during the reception last night. When you didn’t answer, I knew something was wrong. So I drove through the night. Stopped at your apartment, saw your car wasn’t there. Headed over here. Found your car by the cottage, along with a vehicle I didn’t recognize, and ran all the way to the river.”

  “Mallory’s car,” I said.

  He set the box down to take a breather.

  “I should’ve guessed that’s why you didn’t come to Savannah,” he said.

  As we resumed walking, another question occurred to me.

  “Jonah only fired one shot. Then he threw his rifle at Degataga. Why didn’t he keep shooting?”

  “Repeating rifles weren’t invented until a couple of decades later.”

  “Ah.”

  We were quiet as we continued up the hill. I was relieved Amadahy and Degataga were together. And I truly hoped they would be happy. But guilt weighed heavily on me.

  When we reached the cottage, my grief for Nana hit me hard. It was unimaginable that she was really gone. It dawned on me then that I had to tell Mom. And Jeannette. I had no idea what to say.

  When I retrieved my bag from Nana’s bedroom, I found five voice messages from Jeannette on my phone, frantic about Nana’s whereabouts. She said Nana left the house while Sofia, the new companion, was in the shower.

  Despite wanting more than anything to know what Amadahy had written, I had to wait on that for a while and drive to Athens. I offered to meet Eric later at his condo but he said he wasn’t letting me out of his sight. After changing into my own clothes and bagging up my bloodied nineteenth century clothing for the dumpster, I texted Jeannette that we were on our way. Eric followed me in his car.

  “Where is she?” Jeannette said, answering the door with Gracie in her arms – a sight I’d never seen before.

  “Let’s sit down,” I said.

  Once we were seated at the kitchen table, I dialed Mom’s number, using the FaceTime app. She didn’t answer the first time, but on my second try, she picked up.

  “It better be important if you’re calling me this early,” she said, her voice husky. “And I’m not doing that damn FaceTime.” She was twelve hours ahead of us. The sun was coming up in Hong Kong.

  “It’s about Nana,” I said. “You can see my face. I don’t have to see yours.”

  Her voice changed immediately from cynical to worried. “What’s wrong?”

  “I have Jeannette here with me, Mom. Eric is here too.”

  “What’s going on?” she demanded.

  “I need to begin by giving you a little backstory.”

  “What happened?” she shouted.

  “That’s exactly what I’m about to tell you.”

  I went through my story as I’d decided I needed to tell it. I didn’t start out revealing Nana was dead. I wanted them to know how it came about. Mom interrupted me several times, but I insisted I had to explain it this way. I told them about Jonah beating Amadahy and forcing her to have sex against her will, about how Jonah murdered Isham, about how Amadahy refused to leave, desperate to stay on her family’s land – all that stuff. And then how I tried to intervene, but only succeeded in causing more trouble, actually getting myself locked up in the local jail.

  “But when we walked down to the river,” Mom said, “there was nothing there. Nobody’s living on that land.”

  “Correct,” I said. “Nobody is living on that land right now. But in 1840 there was a little farm there. That’s where Amadahy lived after she married Isham, before he was killed by his half-brother. And that’s where she lived with Jonah after he stole the farm.”

  “Excuse me,” Mom said. “Why are you talking about people who lived there in the eighteen hundreds?”

  “I know this is hard to understand, Mom, but we traveled back in time to when Amadahy lived along the Broad River. Me, Nana, Eric and my co-worker, Mallory.”

  There was silence on the phone as Jeannette shook her head in disbelief.

  “Nana’s the one who accidentally discovered the time gate,” I continued. “But she didn’t understand she’d traveled back through time and thought Amadahy was a new neighbor. She was so upset when she saw Jonah hit her and knock her down, she asked me to call the police.”

  “I think I’ve listened to enough backstory,” Mom said. “Where’s Mother?”

  A sob was lurking in my throat and it was all I could do to tamp it down.

  “Nana saved Amadahy and Degataga,” I said, deciding to give her the exact details later. “Jonah was about to shoot them and Nana leaped in front of Degataga and the bullet from Jonah’s gun killed Nana instead.” The scab covering my grief ripped off and a deep, sorrowful sob shook my body.

  Eric was by my side, wrapping his arm around me.

  “Are you telling me my mother is dead?” she said.

  My voice wouldn’t work.

  “Yes,” Eric said, moving closer so Mom could see him. “Kathryn held her in her arms as she breathed her last breath. But before she went, your mother told Kathryn she was happy to die this way. Happy to die a brave old woman saving someone’s life. She said it was far better than succumbing, bit by bit, to Alzheimer’s disease.”

  I was glad I’d told Eric what Nana said because there was no way I could’ve shared it with my mother at that moment.

  “This is insane,” she muttered, sounding tired and angry. “Where’s her body?”

  I wiped my tears with the back of my hand. “I’ll take you to the burial ground when you get here.”

  ~

  A warm shower never felt so good. Eric let me have the maste
r bathroom while he took the guest bathroom. I spent half an hour washing all the dirt and sweat from my hair and body.

  As the water poured over me, memories of Nana streamed through my mind. The time she rescued me when I climbed the magnolia tree in her back yard and was too afraid to climb down. Baking Christmas cookies together and letting me decorate them with red and green frosting. All the plays we saw together. The board games she let me win as I was growing up. She was so much more than my grandmother. She was my best friend.

  It came to me then that Nana was my past – a past that shaped and molded me, a past I would always cherish – and Eric was my future. I clung to that thought as I dried off and slipped into the pale blue boxers and T-shirt he’d loaned me, then slipped into his bath robe. Squeezing toothpaste on my finger, I brushed my teeth, then combed the tangles out of my hair with his comb.

  I found him lying on the bed, hands tucked behind his head, dressed in an identical set of boxers and T-shirt.

  He hopped up, crossed the room, taking my hand in his.

  “You okay?”

  I gave his hand a squeeze.

  We went downstairs and fixed peanut butter sandwiches, sitting side by side at the kitchen booth to eat them. Then he opened his laptop and translated the delicate pages we’d painstakingly removed from the strong box.

  Amadahy’s Journal – Part 12 (Sep) 1840

  For many moons, I fought Bad Brother with cunning and potions to calm him and make him sleep. I used traditional Cherokee herbs to cleanse myself when he forced me to lay with him, telling him I used them to make myself more fertile. When Ginny came to live with us, I shared the knowledge learned from my mother and grandmother so we would not carry his child. But I feared one day my medicine would fail.

  This allowed me to remain on my Ancestral Land. But the danger increased with the passing of time. And as his savagery grew, I feared he would abuse my daughter.

  Then came the visitors through the Going Back Portal. The young white woman called Kathryn injured Bad Brother when he attacked her. Then Old Grandmother sacrificed herself to save Degataga’s life when Jonah fired his long musket. So it was that Degataga avenged Isham’s murder, allowing his spirit to rest. And so it was that the evil spirit ruling my family’s land was defeated.

  After burying Old Grandmother and watching our visitors depart, I wrapped all of Bad Brother’s belongings in a flour sack and Degataga took it with him to hide the horse. Unease filled our minds. Would white men come to steal the land when they learned Jonah was gone? Would the sheriff believe he departed to search for gold?

  When we heard a wagon approach as the shadows lengthened that day, Degataga put his hand on his knife, telling Ginny and me to take the baby and hide behind the house. He said we should flee if he gave the signal. Watching from our hiding place, I was surprised to see it was Mr. and Mrs. Berryman.

  Degataga stiffened when we joined him in the yard, but I did not believe they meant us harm.

  Her husband helped her from the wagon, her large bonnet shading her face from the afternoon sun.

  “Mrs. Barnes,” she said, “Eli and I wanted to make sure you’re safe. And that your cousin, Miz Murray, is all right.”

  “We are well.” I replied, uncertain why she would be worried.

  “She had supper with us last night. She was right banged up, covered with scratches, her dress torn. Eli found her by the river. She said she fell in and was carried downstream. She said she had to return to your house right away. I told Eli we needed to come check on the two of you.”

  I could feel Degataga waiting for my words as I searched her eyes.

  “She is safe,” I said. “She returned home with her husband. I, too, am safe now.” I cast my eyes upon Degataga, Ginny and Betsey, hoping Mrs. Berryman would understand my unspoken message. “Jonah is gone.”

  She regarded each of us with kindness.

  “Is that Isham’s baby?” she said, fixing her eyes on Little Butterfly.

  “She is Isham’s daughter and has his gentle spirit.”

  “What’s her name?”

  “Betsey.”

  She patted my daughter’s hand. “May I return next week to visit you?”

  “You are welcome at our home.”

  Mr. Berryman did not speak, but I saw approval in his eyes. I hoped it was a sign we would be allowed to live in peace.

  In the following days, Degataga took Jonah’s horse from its hiding place and sold it to a man in Tugaloo. When he returned, he asked me to cut his hair in the white man’s style. We also cleared the burned wood from the yard and built a new women’s hut, being careful to include a narrow back door where the old one had been.

  When Mrs. Berryman returned, we had coffee and bread with the cooked figs Old Grandmother brought. She said they were the best preserves she had eaten.

  “I want to tell you something, Mrs. Barnes,” she said, setting her cup down. “In private.” She looked down at her lap while I asked Ginny to take the baby for a walk.

  “At first, I wasn’t too sure he did the right thing, marrying a young Indian girl,” she said when we were alone. “But he was a happy man. I grieved when he disappeared. When Jonah moved in here so soon after, I had my suspicions. I hear Miz Murray told the sheriff that Jonah murdered Isham. When I heard that, I knew deep down it was true. Jonah was a violent, sinful man. And thinking back on how Miz Murray looked when she arrived at my house that day, I knew that Jonah…” she waved her hand, not wanting to speak the words. She touched her coffee cup before continuing. “You see, my sister, Fanny, is Sheriff Moon’s wife. So the sheriff is my brother-in-law. One good thing about him – he’s loyal to Fanny. He listens to what she says. I told Fanny I prayed you could live here with your family and not be troubled by anyone trying to take the farm away from you. Isham paid good money for this land and you and his child should have it. I told my sister it’s the Christian thing to do. I believe she convinced Ezra to make sure folks leave you be.”

  Her words lifted a terrible weight, causing me to smile at this kind white woman.

  “I wish to tell you something also,” I said. “I did not marry Jonah. I signed a false name on the paper. But that is done. Now I will marry Degataga. He is like Isham – a good man.”

  When she departed, I gave her Old Grandmother’s jar of figs. I had two reasons. To thank her and to remove the figs from our home so Ginny would not be tempted to pass through the portal. She did not understand the danger. Before the fig bush grows again, I will explain that the portal would take her back to the time of our ancestors, not to the time where slavery is ended.

  Old Noon Day performed the marriage ritual when he arrived during the Nut Moon. I bathed in the river and put on the same gingham dress I wore when I married Isham. Degataga dressed in deerskin leggings and a blue shirt buttoned high, looking at me with powerful love in his eyes. Ginny stood beside me as my sister while Little Butterfly walked from tree to tree, chanting and singing. Degataga presented me with venison. I presented him with fresh corn and cornmeal I had ground. And we mixed our blankets together.

  That night, I lay with Degataga for the first time after he closed the deer hide flaps he hung to make a private sleeping space for our bed. Ginny and Betsey slept on a thick pallet near the hearth.

  Moonlight shone through the window so I could see his face in the darkness.

  “You are mine, Forest Water,” he whispered, stroking my unbraided hair with his fingers.

  “And you are mine,” I said.

  “It was fated.”

  When his hand touched my body, I shivered. He was gentle and loving. As he held me close after our passion was spent, I thanked Selu for giving me such a man.

  ~

  “There’s more,” Eric said. He was bleary-eyed from working too long, knowing I was desperate to read it all.

  “It can wait,” I said, placing my hand on his cheek. “Thank you.”

  “Anything for you,” he whispered.

  I rea
lized how lucky I was to find him. Something that wouldn’t have happened if not for two old grandmothers.

  “Let’s get some sleep,” he said, closing his laptop and leading me upstairs.

  We lay facing each other, his hand resting on my waist.

  Naturally, that’s the moment my phone buzzed on the nightstand. I reached over to switch it to Do Not Disburb, but noticed it was Mallory, who I’d forgotten to call.

  “You made it back,” she said.

  “Yeah. So you won’t have to train a new producer.”

  “Eric too?”

  “Mm-hm.”

  “You really had me scared saying all that stuff about not being born. Listen, I’m really sorry about your grandmother. I know you were close.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I understand now why you wanted to do a story about all of us living on land stolen from the Indians. I’m sure we can talk the boss into it,” she said. “I’m thinking it would add a lot to the story if we could interview Amadahy and Degataga.”

  “Mallory…”

  “We wouldn’t reveal to viewers where they are. Or rather, when they are.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  “I’m not being ridiculous. We just have to frame it right. It would make a dynamite story.”

  I was about to remind her again about the dangers of interfering in the past but realized that would only make her more determined.

  “I’m bushed, Mallory. I’m taking a week off. Let’s talk when I get back to work.”

  “Something’s come up that can’t wait till then.”

  “It’ll have to wait.”

  “I got a call from the weekend producer who says the scumbag teacher has agreed to do an on-camera interview with us tomorrow.”

  “No kidding.”

  “But there’s a catch,” she said. “He’ll only do the interview with you.”

  “Me?”

  “Surprised me too since I’m the one who did the report. Anyway, we need you to come in tomorrow so you, me and Brandon can meet him at his house.”

  “Tell Mr. Hobbs I’m not available and you’re doing the interview.”

  “Already tried that. He says no dice. Has to be you.”