The Sun, the Moon, and Maybe the Trains

by Rodney Jones

  “Smile?”

  “You know, make believe you’re happy or something. Look at the camera and say cheese.”

  I worked up a smile and held it.

  “Oh, come on!”

  I grinned.

  Tess snorted. “Okay, I want one of you on your horse.”

  “That’s all? You just took my picture?”

  “Yup.” She nodded. “Now, would you be so kind as to strike a pose upon your handsome pony?”

  I studied her face for what became a while. She seemed to be doing the same with me.

  “All right,” I said. I pushed myself up from the boulder, then ambled over to the brown and climbed up into the saddle. The whole time I was getting up and settled, she walked around, holding that little device out in front of her.

  “Okay, look at the camera. Now do that goofy smile thing again. Good one. Done.”

  “You took my picture?”

  “Come here. I’ll show you.”

  I climbed down. Tess fiddled with the camera, then held it so I could see the little window on the back side. I saw a tiny picture of me, glowing in lifelike color.

  She pressed a button, and there I was again, climbing up on the brown. She pressed it again—a picture of me looking down from the horse, a grin on my face.

  “Good Lord, Tess. That is… how’s it do that?”

  “Ones and zeros.”

  “Pardon me?”

  “It converts the light into ones and zeros. You can’t see them, neither can I, but they’re there. You’ll just have to trust me.”

  “You can’t see them?”

  “The computer reads the ones and zeros and converts them back into whatever pictures are taken.”

  I studied the thing more closely, then shook my head and handed it back. “I reckon.”

  “You better reckon.”

  I nodded toward the camera. “Makes about as much sense as a beaver with a hat on.”

  “A beaver with a hat on? What?”

  “You ever see one?”

  “Hmm. I might have.”

  “Now, why doesn’t that surprise me?”

  She looked at me with the most beautiful smile. I knew at that moment how much I’d miss that—her smile. But then the expression slipped away, and a sober look was left in its place.

  “You okay?” she asked.

  “Well… you know.”

  “Yeah.” Her gaze dropped to the ground. She bent down, picked up a thin twig, and began snapping off little pieces. “I should be going.”

  I sighed. “Yeah.” I looked around at the trees. “You want to eat something before you go?”

  “I’m not hungry.”

  “Me either.”

  “Uh huh.”

  “You all right, Tess?”

  She stood and lifted her knapsack. She was about to shove an arm through the shoulder strap, then apparently changed her mind and set it back down. “I’m nervous.”

  “You’ll be all right.”

  She looked over in the direction of the old oak tree about thirty yards southwest of where we stood. She untied the trousers she was wearing and let them drop. Her green China dress slipped down to her knees. She slipped each of the pant legs off over her shoes, then draped the trousers over the boulder we’d been sharing. “Will you see me off?”

  “I ain’t going anywhere until I know you made it.” As soon as the words left my mouth, I felt like a liar. Until I knew what? I’d know she was gone. The rest of it, I supposed I’d be left to wonder about.

  Tess stepped over and wrapped her arms around me. I gave her a tentative hug. Her arms tightened. I responded in kind, her warmth slowly filling me, the scent of her body, her closeness making my head swim. I didn’t want it to end, but then she stepped back, picked up her knapsack, and walked off toward the oak tree. Each step made a soft crunch or snap as she stepped across the forest floor.

  “Tess…”

  She stopped and turned.

  “Wait.”

  “Wait?”

  “Just wait a minute.”

  She stood there, curiosity all over her face, while I got clear about what it was she was waiting for. “John?”

  Twenty feet lay between us. I knew she was scared, because I was, too. Did I know another person on earth who’d have taken the chance she had? All for me. No, it wasn’t that I didn’t know why I was having her wait; I was just trying to find my courage. “I’ll walk you to your car.”

  “My car?”

  “I’m coming with you to your car.”

  She stood there, blank-eyed.

  “I’ll move the horses to the road. That way if—”

  “John.” She stepped toward me. “You don’t really need to do this. I’ve got no choice, but you do.”

  “You had a choice in coming here.”

  “John.”

  I went over and loosely tied the horses so as they could free themselves if necessary, then rejoined Tess, staying near her as she walked toward the oak. “A little north of that tree,” I said, “about thirty feet, I think.”

  We came to the spot I thought was right. I kept glancing toward Tess to be sure I hadn’t lost her.

  She was doing the same, glancing my way. “I really appreciate this, you being with me.”

  I didn’t know what to say, so I just smiled as though it was nothing. We walked north, away from the tree, and stepped past a group of maple saplings. A little ways farther, I stopped and turned around.

  “This is right, isn’t it?” Tess asked.

  “How about we walk back toward the oak?”

  We walked to within ten feet of the tree, then stopped and studied our surroundings. I reminded Tess of how much I’d meandered about that last time here before finding myself home.

  “We’ve gotta just keep moving around, I reckon, until we hit the right spot.”

  We walked to the left of our previous path, back to the right of it, did a little crisscrossing, and then some circling.

  “This doesn’t seem right, John.”

  “Well, I know it is.”

  “I don’t mean the location. I mean that we’re still here.”

  “All right, then, how about we walk to the road and back?”

  “You think?”

  “We gotta keep trying.”

  We walked the area for a good while more to no avail. I wasn’t ready to say so, but my concern was closing in on me.

  “Something’s not right,” Tess said.

  I stopped and took her hand. “Just keep moving, Tess.”

  “Could it be us, John, trying to go together? Maybe we can’t do it this way.”

  “Well, you think so?” I looked all around as if the answer might be out there among the trees. “All right, how about you go a little ways ahead of me then, and if you disappear, I’ll follow? How does that sound?”

  “You’ll be behind me?”

  “I’ll be just behind you.”

  I watched as she again stepped off toward the oak tree, and then fell in about fifteen feet behind her like a calf following its mama around the pasture.

  After another quarter hour or so, she stopped and turned. “John?”

  From the look in her eyes, I knew the fear that had a hold of her. I stepped up to her, put my arms around her, and held her. “Tess, we gotta keep trying. I want to go with you, but if I’m keeping you here, then, well… I’ll wait by the rock over there.” I suggested it without even thinking. But once I thought about it, a pang of guilt tightened around my heart. “Once you’re gone,” I added, “I’ll do it. I’ll be right behind you.”

  “John, I’m scared. What if I can’t?”

  “It’ll work, Tess. You have to keep trying, is all.”

  “Well, if anything happens… I mean, like if we get separated, I want you to know that I…”

  “I know. I do, Tess. And I want you to know that I’m real grateful that you came.”

  I worked up a smile, the best one I could manage, and took a step back from
her.

  “I’ll be right here.” I pointed over my shoulder, then took a few more steps back. “But I’m planning on—” I tripped over a branch and fell square on my hindquarters. “Lord, I better…” I looked up to where Tess had been standing, expecting laughter, but she was gone.

  “Tess?” I scrambled to my feet, immediately assuming she’d made it home, but then I saw the ribbon in the tree. I glanced left and right and realized the trees had changed. Hoping she’d hear me, I said, “Tess, walk towards the spot where I was.” I took a few steps back.

  “Tess!” I waited a minute, but she didn’t come.

  “Tess!” I stood there, fighting off a swarm of what-ifs. Should I wait? What if she gets lost? Should I go? What if she went to a different day? And on and on.

  Minutes passed. Feeling trapped within my ever-tightening wall of indecision, I pushed forward. I stepped over the branch I’d tripped over and, just like that, I was standing in front of her.

  “Planning on what?” she asked.

  “Dear Lord.” I let go an explosive sigh. “I thought I lost you.”

  “What?”

  “Whoa.” I suspect the look on my face was no less perplexed than the expression on hers.

  “Are you okay, John?”

  “You didn’t hear me calling?”

  “John, what are you talking about?”

  “I’m talking about 2009. That’s where I’ve been for the past ten minutes.”

  Her jaw dropped.

  “You didn’t notice I was gone?”

  “What?”

  “Tess, I was. Come over here.”

  She stepped up before me.

  I turned her around and put my hands on her shoulders. “This way.” I guided her forward while stepping backward. Nothing happened. “It was right here. I was there. I was there for about ten minutes, hollering for you to follow.”

  “John, you didn’t go anywhere. I would’ve noticed. Don’t you think?”

  “But I did. I was there. I was.”

  She looked me hard in the eye. “You were there?”

  I gave her a hard look right back. “I swear.”

  “For ten minutes?”

  “About that, I’d say.”

  “I believe you.” Her eyes filled with tears. “Why isn’t it working for me?”

  “Maybe it’s like I was saying. Maybe we have to do it separately. I mean, it worked for me when I stepped back from you.”

  Her gaze drifted. She remained quiet.

  “Let’s try it, Tess.”

  “Try what?”

  “Wait right here. No, step back to where you were.”

  I walked over to the boulder we’d sat on earlier and stood next to it.

  “All right,” I said, “move about a little. Come this way a few steps.”

  I watched as she paced the area for several minutes. It occurred to me that maybe the thing—whatever it was—shifted about as we’d been doing. How could I even guess what it might or might not be or do? If it moved a little, that shouldn’t be too much of a problem, but if it moved more than a little…

  “Tess, try over to your right a bit further.”

  She did. She tried all directions a bit further and then some. She’d been at it for well over an hour when she came back to me, sniffling, a line of tears to either side of her nose. “John, I’m really scared.”

  “I know.”

  “I can’t be stuck here.” The hopelessness in her voice gave me a chill.

  “Don’t be thinking that way, Tess.”

  “But, John, it’s not working. What am I going to do? Really, what am I going to do?”

  “Tess, calm down. Let me think.” I sat there with her beside me, scouring my mind for an answer. The spot had been there, but it didn’t seem to be anymore. Did it come and go? Maybe it was just simply gone. If it moved, we might never find it. If it comes and goes—there sometimes and not others—then we have to keep trying. Could be it’s there right now, I thought. Perhaps we just missed it. Maybe it blinks, here and gone, and you have to be there at the right spot, at the right moment. But then, who’s to say you’ll wind up anywhere near where you want to be? Could be we just ran into a batch of the poorest kind of luck.

  I confessed to Tess what I was thinking and once again insisted that we keep trying. I suggested we eat something before continuing, to lift our spirits a little. I went and got the sack I’d tied to the brown’s saddle. We had bread with butter, bacon, and some cheese. Tess had water in her knapsack, which we finished off, then walked over to the stream running along the other side of the road and refilled her plastic bottle. Once we’d finished eating, we went back to trying.

  I had a pretty good idea of just where we should be. I thought I did, anyhow. We went at it in a variety of ways for another hour or so and were both dragged out and busted when we finally gave up. My aunt and uncle would be expecting me back within a few hours. I was at a complete loss as to what to do, and Tess was in a tearful panic. I wasn’t far from tears myself.

  “We’ll have to come back, Tess.”

  “I… I can’t be here! I can’t be in 1875! I have to go home!”

  “Tess, we’ll come back tomorrow. We’ll try again then. It was just a bad day, is all.”

  “What am I going to do tonight, John? What? I can’t go to your uncle’s house. I mean…”

  “I don’t know that we have any other choice.”

  “But, John… no.”

  “What would you suggest? You can’t stay up here; it’ll get cold.”

  “We could build a fire,” she said. “You could stay with me.”

  “My uncle is expecting me back around dark. I don’t show up… well, I can’t be sure what then, and I ain’t gonna leave you up here. Ain’t no way.”

  “He wouldn’t come looking for you, would he? At night?”

  “Tess, you have proof that you’re from the future—the camera, and you knowing about the storm.”

  She appeared stunned. “You’re not thinking of telling your aunt and uncle, are you?”

  I nodded.

  “Jesus, John. I don’t… I can’t—”

  “I’m going to have to anyhow, so I can warn them about the fire.”

  Tess slowly shook her head. “I don’t have a good feeling about this.”

  I went through a number of alternatives in my mind, but none were any better. “I think we have to.”

  She was quiet. I didn’t push it, but gave her all the time she needed to mull it over.

  Finally, she asked, “We’ll come back up here tomorrow?”

  “Yes.”

  “Promise me.”

  “I promise you.”

  chapter sixteen

  THE NIGHT WAS STILL AND as dark as pitch. The slow, dull clops of hooves and the faint creak of leather were the only sounds I heard as we rode into Greendale. The brown was itching to pick up the pace, but I held him at a walk to give us a little more time.

  I didn’t say so, but I was feeling ill prepared for what lay ahead. To lie, or not to lie? We’d thoroughly explored both paths and finally agreed upon the truth, as I was sorely incapable of a convincing lie. I didn’t have all that much confidence I could manage a convincing truth, either, though. Then, Tess pointed out that our story was far too ridiculous for a lie. After giving that some thought, I came around to the bass-end logic in it. And ye shall know the Truth, and the Truth shall make you free was one of a handful of verses I knew by heart, though I couldn’t find it in the Bible if my life depended on it.

  We dismounted outside the barn. Tess held the reins while I pushed open the doors, slow and easy, hoping to avoid getting the Tabors’ dogs started. I struck a match to the lamp my uncle kept hanging inside the door, then unsaddled the horses and gave them some oats and water while Tess stood by watching. No doubt, there was more on her mind than anyone would care to accommodate. And me, I had my own share of unease to be quiet about. We entered and left the barn without having said a word.
r />   I closed the doors and, taking Tess’s hand, led her through the dark to the privy behind the house. Light from the kitchen window lit a patch of ground to the right of the outhouse. I stood off to the side, away from the light, trying to work up some courage, while she went inside the outhouse to change. Right up to those last moments before walking through the front door, I was debating with myself whether to have Tess wait outside while I explained it all to them—spare her some misery. But then, they wouldn’t think too highly of me leaving her out there alone. No, it would have to be the both of us going in together.

  Tess emerged wearing the trousers she had worn up the mountain earlier. “John.” She took my hand. “Tell me everything will be okay.”

  I told her everything would be okay and did my best to sound as though I believed it. We stepped into the house. As we walked through the dining room, I dropped her knapsack beside the table, as was planned.

  My aunt was pouring a cup of tea as I entered the kitchen. Tess was directly behind me. My uncle sat at the kitchen table, a lamp lit off to one side, a newspaper spread out before him. My aunt looked to Tess and then to me. The fact that she didn’t say anything lent weight to the matter, her silence suggesting that they somehow knew. And if that was the case, I figured it’d be my uncle leading the inquisition.

  “Sir, I reckon you’ll be wantin’ an explanation.”

  Chair legs scraped the raw wooden floor. A low grunt left my uncle’s throat. He studied me for a moment before speaking. “It’s a hard scratch ahead of you, son; that’s what I reckon. Things just ain’t a-linin’ up the way I’d trusted they would. After talking to Mr. Stewart and his son, well, I suspected I’d not seen the end of this young lady here.”

  “Hugh Stewart, sir?”

  “After church today, we inquired about your friend here.”

  “Sir, I don’t mean any disrespect to the Stewarts, but I can’t see how they’d possibly know beans about Tess.”

  “First off, John, I think you need a lesson or two about what’s respect and what ain’t, and second, they know for fact there ain’t no McKinnons in Wallingford. I’d have a real hard time believing they’d be lying about it.”

  “Well, they’re not, far as I know, but truth be told, neither is Tess.”

  My uncle gave me a twisted look. “Is that a fact?”