by Rodney Jones
“She’s already spoken for?”
“Now, see, you’ll have me breaking my promise. I can’t explain it just now, Paul. That’s all.”
“She your sister?”
Right then, Tess stepped out. She had Mr. Jacobson’s newspaper in her hand. “John…” She handed me the paper and pointed to a small article on the second page— Englishman Swims the English Channel.
Before we left the breakfast table, there was a fair amount of debate over traveling arrangements. Mrs. Jacobson, hinting at the impropriety of Tess riding double with me or my uncle, suggested putting Tess on the coach. However, it wouldn’t be headed our way ’til the following day, and my uncle and I both knew the delay wouldn’t be agreeable to her. Mr. Jacobson offered one of his horses, but my uncle insisted it made perfect good sense returning with what we came with. He suggested that he and I could double up on the brown ’til we got to Wallingford, and then trade off walking and riding over the mountains. By the end of it, though, we had three horses.
After the trials of the previous day, the journey home seemed nothing less than a pleasure ride. Even Tess seemed light of spirit. There was a lot of storytelling, her telling my uncle and me about life in 2009, and we telling stories of our time. Her stories, however, required more explaining than ours, and there were things she said that we simply couldn’t make sense of. Nonetheless, I enjoyed her every word, and my uncle, for the most part, appeared taken with her.
We were perhaps halfway between Wallingford and Greendale, when it seemed the conversation began petering out. We were nearing the ribbon place. Tess was to my right, staring off into the woods. I thought the only thing keeping her from going right then was her backpack, which had her cell phone and camera in it. I knew she wanted the pictures that were in the camera. I was glad they were important to her, glad to have a little more time with her. Glad? The truth was, I wasn’t happy about it. Maybe I should call it preferring, rather than glad.
After dark, a breeze brushed our faces as we rode into Greendale. I dismounted and then helped Tess down off of her horse. She went to the house while my uncle and I attended the animals.
I was pulling the saddle off the goose when my uncle said, “You’re going to miss that gal, I’d imagine.”
“I reckon I will, sir.”
“Yeah.” He draped a damp blanket over a railing. “It don’t seem fair, all this business.”
Neither of us said a word more as we finished up and then headed for the house. Tess had changed out of her riding clothes and was wearing the blue dress Abigail had given her, which to my eyes looked especially handsome on her that evening. She was in the kitchen, helping my aunt with supper and sharing the story of our misadventures. She’d reached the part where we were standing outside Mr. Kennedy’s front door when I came into the room and sat at the table. I didn’t know as I’d ever seen my aunt so taken by anyone’s accounting.
A short while later, we gathered around the dining room table to enjoy the fried chicken and biscuits Tess and my aunt had prepared. We gabbed mostly about the events of the past day. Then my aunt mentioned having paid a visit to Mr. and Mrs. Stewart earlier in the day.
“Oh? What might that have been about?” my uncle asked.
“Well.” She touched the back of Tess’s hand. “Will you forgive me for speaking frankly, hon?”
Tess shrugged. “No problem.”
“Well, it seems that Mr. Stewart’s son, Hugh, had been spreading the rumor that Tess behaved inappropriately during his rescue of her. I thought Mr. Stewart, being the good Christian he is, should know of this and put a proper end to it.”
Tess glanced across the table at me. “Ma’am, am I allowed to speak frankly, as well?”
There was a hesitation on my aunt’s part. She looked at my uncle. “Maybe the dinner table isn’t the best place for all this kind of talk.”
“Maybe not, but it was you, Lil, who started this talking frank business, and I’m more than curious about what Tess might have to add.”
My aunt turned to Tess. “Seems we’re all in a mood for being frank tonight.”
Tess folded her hands together. “First of all, I didn’t want any part of being rescued, as he calls it. I hadn’t been in the rain for more than an hour when he showed up. I was wet, yes, but I was fine with walking. He kept insisting I get on his horse with him. When I refused, he jumped down and grabbed me. I was scared, so I let him lift me to the saddle. As we were coming down the mountain, he told me he knew of a barn we could go to… to warm up, is what he said. I told him, as clearly as I know how, that that wasn’t going to happen and assured him that if he tried anything, he wouldn’t escape without something to show for it. Perhaps he took that as inappropriate behavior.”
My uncle looked over at me. “Did you know about this?”
“No, sir, I didn’t.”
His brow furrowed as he shook his head. “That kind of thing starts my hair.”
“And mine, sir.”
“And this is the same fellow who put McNeil onto us. I have a mind to knock him into a cocked hat.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Tess said. “He didn’t touch me, and I won’t ever see his face again, anyway. I just didn’t want to leave here with you thinking I’d done anything like he may have suggested.” She looked straight at my uncle, tilted her head to one side, and asked, “How do you knock someone into a cocked hat?”
My uncle grinned. “Well, you gotta make certain their hat is on good and straight first. And then you—”
“Does anyone have a hankerin’ for apple pie?” my aunt interrupted.
Tess put a hand over her mouth, glanced at the other faces around the table, and coughed up a laugh. “Oh, excuse me!” She giggled.
My aunt had a puzzled look about her. I couldn’t help laughing. Pretty soon, my uncle was at it, too, and Tess was nearly in tears. My aunt got up, went into the kitchen, and came back a moment later carrying a pie. It seemed like a good while, though, before everyone was sober enough to eat it.
Tess looked as though she was trying to memorize the piece on her plate before taking the first bite. “John told me there isn’t a thing in the world better than your apple pie, ma’am.”
“Well, now and then, he says something sensible, doesn’t he?”
“Yes, ma’am, now and then, he does.”
I felt the toe of her shoe tap my shin.
After we all scraped our dessert plates clean, Tess and I helped my aunt with the dishes. My uncle sat at the kitchen table, reading the newspaper we’d brought from the Jacobsons’.
“I have to admit,” Uncle Edwin said. “I didn’t know what to make of all that business about the future. I was a little to this side of thinking you were a wheel shy of four. I guess I wanted to see it. Yesterday morning, when we were about to head up the mountain… that’s what that was; I felt I needed proof. I reckon now, I’m fine with it all. You want to see Tess home tomorrow, you go on and take her yourself. I’ve got work here to get caught up on.”
“I’ll get back here as soon as I can, sir.”
“It ain’t gonna hurt, you being gone one more day. Take whatever time is needed.”
Tess touched my arm with warm, wet fingers. “What’s that noise?”
“What noise?”
“That’s just the wind, hon,” Aunt Lil said. “Makes the house whistle sometimes.”
I listened. I hadn’t noticed before. It had become quite windy outside.
“Oh,” Tess said, “I bet we’re at the front edge of that storm.”
“We’ll probably be seeing rain here shortly,” my uncle said.
There was another whistle and a rattle of windows.
“That’s odd,” Tess said. “Usually with hurricanes, the rain comes before the wind.”
“I wouldn’t know about that,” my uncle said. “We’ve not had a hurricane in these parts that I can recall.”
“I have a mind to step out and enjoy some of that air. I like a good storm, as
long as I’m dry.” I glanced at Tess. “Would you care to join me?”
She grinned.
“What?” I asked.
“I have a mind to join you.”
“Don’t wander too far,” my aunt said. “I’m sure a drenching is bound to come.”
Tess and I stepped out the front door to more than the usual dark. A gust of wind caught her dress and started it flapping like a flag against her legs. It was a dry wind, which was fine with me, as I figured we didn’t need to worry about rain. We walked out to the road and up the hill past all the neighbors. About all we could see was the dim glow of oil lamps coming through the windows of the nearby homes.
“John, I can’t get over how dark it is here. I grew up with lights everywhere… all hours. Well, you know.”
“I thought it was amazing, Tess.”
“I think this is amazing—the dark, the wind, and that pie—and you.”
A sudden gust of wind came up. “Me?” I was almost shouting, competing with the wind. “Tess, would you think it—”
“What?”
“Can we go somewhere quieter to talk? Would that be all right with you?”
“Where?”
“The mill?”
“Yes.”
We turned around and started back down through the village. As we neared the Hemings’ house, I heard voices, a broken conversation being carried by the wind from somewhere ahead of us. I couldn’t see anyone, but as we got a little closer, I caught sight of a lit torch coming around the side of the mill. The wind was whipping the flames hard, sending tiny sparks flying from it. I grabbed Tess’s arm and pointed. Then there were two more and another—four men on horses. We moved off to the side of the road, next to a tree. I heard talking, murmurs, but nothing clear.
“Tess, wait here. I’ll be right back.”
“Who is it?”
“I don’t know, but if they start coming this way, run for the woods… up there behind the Hemings’ house, and wait. I’m sure they—”
“John, they’re going up to your house.”
“Come on, Tess.” I grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the woods. We walked back a ways and came around behind my uncle’s house. “Just wait here. I’ll go find out what this is. I’ll be right back.”
“John, what if you don’t come right back?”
“Wait here, Tess. Please, no matter what, just wait here.”
I ran for the back of the house and then snuck around the side to the front corner. My uncle was standing on the front step, his shirt and britches flapping in the wind. I caught hints of what sounded like an argument. I heard Tess’s name and recognized Hugh Stewart’s voice, then Mr. McNeil’s. There was another man I didn’t at first recognize, but then, clear as a bell, I picked up Mr. Stewart—Hugh’s pa, the minister—hollering something about the devil’s work. I ran hard as I could to where Tess was waiting and told her what I had seen.
“I’m afraid they’ve come for you, Tess.” It was so dark, I could barely see her face. She was quiet. “Stay here. They won’t find you out here.”
“No, no, John, I am not going through that again.”
“You can’t go to the house, Tess.”
“You did, and you weren’t seen. I’ll sneak in the back door, get my backpack, and… and go. I’m ready to go. I’m going home, John.”
“Tess, no, just wait.”
“I can’t be here anymore.” She stood and started for the house.
I grabbed her arm and pulled her to the ground. “Tess, please. I’ll go. I’ll get your backpack. Please, please, just wait here.”
“Okay, but if you’re not back within a few minutes…”
“Goddang it, Tess, wait for me!”
I ran for the house, crept up under the kitchen window, and peeked through. I didn’t see anyone, so I slipped through the back door and made a quick dash for the stairs. I noticed my aunt at the front door, and shouting was coming from out front. I scrambled up the stairs to my room, grabbed the backpack, then dashed back down the stairs. I heard my aunt yelling something about a fire. I ran to the back door, slipped out, checked my right and left, then hurried to where Tess was waiting. I had to catch my breath before I could speak.
“John, what is that?” She pointed. A glow came from the other side of the house.
“No! The mill!”
“Oh, no.”
Then, I heard what I thought was a gunshot. “Tess, I’ve got to get down there.”
“What should I do?”
I looked into her eyes and saw fear, the same as she likely saw in mine. “You think you can get up the mountain?”
“I know I can.”
“It’s so dark. You sure?”
“I have a flashlight.” She patted the backpack. “I’ll keep to the road and hide if anyone comes. I’ll be careful, John.”
Flames appeared at the roof of the mill. Sparks like shooting stars, carried by the howling wind, streaked toward my uncle’s house.
“I’ve got to get down there, Tess. Wait for me.”
“What?”
“Up the mountain. Wait.”
“But…”
“Just do. I gotta go.” I took off toward the house.
“John…”
I turned, but couldn’t make out what she was saying. I ran to the back corner of the house, then slipped around to the front, peeked around the corner, and stared in disbelief—flames and wind and shouting, people running from the nearby homes carrying pails, utter chaos. I didn’t see my aunt or uncle anywhere. Several of the neighbors had formed a bucket chain from the river to the mill. The front door of the house was wide open. I started toward the door, but before I got there, Mr. McNeil came barreling out.
“Where is she, boy?”
I backed away when I saw the gun come up from his side.
“Tell me, boy, or I’ll put a hole through you.”
“She’s gone.”
“I know damned well that’s a lie.”
I turned, looked toward the mill, then up the other way. “Where’s my—” I felt a blow to the back of my head. My knees buckled. The world spun, began to shrink, then was gone.
chapter twenty-one
I AWOKE TO MORE CONFUSION THAN I’d left—nervous eyes peering down at me and strange noises coming from a pair of perspiring lips. “Jee wa jee wa on…” A cold, wet hand slapped my cheek repeatedly, annoyingly. I wanted to say something, but the idea would not coalesce into words. For several moments, an uneasy hubbub stirred around and around as I struggled to put things straight. The face above me shifted into vague familiarity. I worked at it and worked at it, and then, like finding a misplaced memory, my uncle’s face was suddenly before me.
“Jeeya wawrite… ya alrye, junn?” The dirt and blood on his shirt was crazy wrong. His face was smeared with sweat and grime and lit with hard shadows and fire.
“June… John…”
Another couple of slaps. I twisted my head to avoid more.
“John!”
I blinked and shook my head. “What?”
A noisy sigh left my uncle’s throat. “Jesus, you had me worried there.”
I pushed myself upright, just barely aware of the pain in my head. A wave of heat brushed against my eyes. I squinted through tears. The mill was a blaze of bright yellow and white. The wind howled and hissed like a train. Flames tore at the side of my uncle’s house. People were shouting, crouching, dashing forward, slinging water, then quickly darting away.
“Where’s Aunt Lil?”
“Down there filling buckets.” He nodded toward the river. “Where’s Tess?”
It took me a moment to locate the picture in my mind. “Headed up the mountain. She’s going home.”
He looked up the road. “You should be with her, John.”
“I was planning on catching up to her.”
“I’m sure you were, but I mean, you should be with her, taking care of her, you know?”
“Oh, but she can’t be here.” A pa
inful lump rose to my throat, as though the truth wasn’t complete until spoken. “She can’t live in our time, sir.”
“I know.” He nodded. “I know. I think you should go live in hers.”
I turned again to the house. The front door was still open; smoke spilled from the top of it. “What about you and Aunt Lil?”
“It’ll work itself out, always has. You, on the other hand, you’ll likely spend the rest of your days regrettin’ should that gal get away. She came quite a ways for you, John. You ain’t likely to meet another woman as solid as that.” He helped me to my feet.
I pointed to the front door. “There’s something I need in there.”
“Where?”
“Under my bed.”
My uncle looked at the house. “You sure about that?”
“Yes.”
“All right, let’s have a look.”
We hurried through the front door and stopped at the base of the stairs. I looked up. There was a lot of smoke, but no flames.
“I’d wager it’s hot up there,” he said.
“Fifteen seconds is all I need.”
“When you get to the top of the steps, if it’s too hot, it ain’t worth it. Nothing is. I’m counting. When I get to fifteen, I’m coming after you. Understand?”
I nodded and then ran. I got up near the top of the steps, just below the smoke, took a deep breath, then scrambled into the hall. The heat burned my ears as if I’d stuck my head into a hot oven. I kicked my bedroom door open. Flames licked up the wall alongside the window near my bed. The ceiling was brown and smoldering. My eyes stung so much, I couldn’t keep them open. I dove to the floor, felt around under my bed, grabbed the little box, then quickly scrambled out and slid down the stairs. My uncle was on his feet and on his way out as soon as he saw me coming. I darted for the front door on his heels, then stood out by the road, bent over, coughing, hacking, and gasping for air.
I pointed to a growing patch of red on his shirt. “Your shoulder.”
My uncle pulled his shirt open. “That crazy fool, McNeil. Do you believe this?” Blood oozed from a small dark hole just below his shoulder and trickled in a thin line down his chest. He put his hand to the wound and winced. “That crazy jackass fool should be locked up.” He glanced at the blood on his fingertips, then again toward the house.