Spirit of the Ruins

by Jenny Lykins

  Garrett continued to stare at that bright star.

  “And I will be gone before the letter is posted.”

  “Damn you, Garrett Windsor!” She jumped to her feet. Tepid coffee sloshed over his hand at the jerk of the swing. “I did not take you in and nurse you back to life to have you spend it in self-flagellation for not dying with those men! You can work day and night for fair reconstruction laws, but that won’t give you your life back!”

  “And you believe telling my family where their long lost, black sheep Yankee is would change that? Don’t bother, Estella. My sister is a Confederate widow with a child. My brother is a bitter shell of what he once was. Do you think they would care that the Yankee brother who survived is bothered by a few nightmares? Would you give a damn about the Yank who killed your husband?”

  She sucked in her breath. Tears glistened in her eyes and she looked as if he’d slapped her.

  “I would if he were you,” she whispered.

  He closed his eyes, fought against the sudden need to hold her, to wrap his body around someone warm and caring. It had been so long. And he wanted her so badly.

  But he didn’t deserve her.

  He looked up at her shadowed features, her golden blond hair gathered neatly at her neck, haloed by the muted glow of the moon.

  He could never repay her for the months – indeed, more than a year – she’d spent caring for him, bringing him back from the abyss into which he’d tried so hard to sink. She had pulled him from the river, along with three corpses. She had taken him home and cared for him, for fear the trip to the hospital in Memphis would kill him. She had worked herself to exhaustion nursing him while raising Billy and Mary Ella. And she had attracted scorn and outrage, and even scandal, for first taking in a Yankee officer, and then allowing him to stay when he could have finally moved on.

  But he’d stayed to work for her, to help repay a widow with two children for all she’d done. And now the least he could do was talk to her, tell her what she wanted to know, try to purge his mind of the horrors that preyed on him, the guilt that tormented him.

  Everything ached when he leaned forward and took her hand – another reminder that he lived on because of her. Pulling her back into the swing beside him, he looked at her, tried to open all the doors in his soul that had remained sealed so tightly for two years. With a forced smile, he kept her hand in his when he spoke.

  “Where do you want me to begin?”

  *******

  Ty held Callen’s hand as Dr. Rayson continued to explain the surgery done on infants to correct club feet. Judging from the look on her face, he wasn’t sure what her ultimate decision would be after this visit.

  First thing that morning, Ty had called the only orthopedic surgeon he knew. He had done the daughter’s wedding just a few weeks earlier when the original photographer had taken ill, so he had the doctor’s home phone number and Sanford Rayson owed him a favor. He’d told Sanford that he knew of a little boy who needed the corrective surgery, but that the mother needed some reassurance. Sanford had nearly nailed Ty to the wall though, when he’d asked why in the world a child of nearly five had not already had the correction done. That had taken some tap dancing, and Ty wasn’t a good liar. After a prolonged coughing fit to give himself time to think, Ty had muttered something about the father being a nut case and refusing surgery for religious reasons, but now he was dead and the mother wanted the best for her son, but she needed reassuring that it could be safely done…

  This lying business was stressful. How did so many people do it so well?

  Sanford had told Ty to bring the mother and child in after his last appointment and he would do what he could to explain the procedures.

  This induced another fit of coughing until Ty decided the boy was out of town with relatives and the mother wanted to see the doctor alone first. Yes, he realized Sanford couldn’t tell her much without seeing the boy, but if he could just give her an idea of the general procedure, the safety factor, the success rate. Time was of the essence because he needed to convince the mother before she scared herself out of the notion.

  Ty had told Callen to say as little as possible other than to answer the doctor’s questions about Connor. That hadn’t been a problem though, because the moment Sanford started explaining a typical procedure – and especially when he pulled out his life-like visual aids – Callen had paled to a milky white, her delicate jaw clenching beneath her skin.

  “Of course, since your son is older, the corrections will take a bit longer, but the procedure will probably be similar to what we do on babies.” He glanced at Ty. “Of course, I can’t say for sure until I examine the boy. And the sooner the better.”

  Ty nodded.

  “Contrary to what you assumed, Mrs. McCall, your son’s bones are not deformed. The tendons are too short, pulling his feet into that position. The first procedure we will probably do is go in and lengthen the Achilles tendon so that his heel will drop down. We do that by snipping the tendon in places, somewhat like what happens if you make tiny snips in a tight rubber band. It loosens the tension.”

  Callen glanced at Ty, and he squeezed her hand with a smile and a silent promise to show her a rubber band when they got home.

  “He’ll have to wear a cast for several weeks, having it changed weekly, to keep his feet in position. Later, because the toes tend to curl inwards, there will be another surgery on the top of his foot to release the tension in the toes. He’ll have to wear more casts, again changed weekly. Once the casts are off, he’ll have to wear specially made shoes for quite a while to keep his feet in position. When he’s older, most likely in his teens, he may have to have another procedure, clipping between his toes to lengthen the tendons.”

  Rayson leaned back in his chair and pushed aside the plastic, skeletal foot covered with realistic tendons, muscles, and veins.

  “Again, until I see your son, I can’t tell you what the exact procedures will entail, but that should give you an idea of what’s involved.” He leaned forward, his hands clasped together on his desk blotter. “This is a condition, Mrs. McCall, that no one in this day and age need live with. The risks are minimal, and the benefits far outweigh the risks.”

  Ty tried to ask any questions Callen might conceivably have. When Sanford leaned back after the last question, Callen swallowed hard, took a deep breath, forced out a thank you, then stood, her back as stiff as a fence post.

  Now Ty didn’t know if he’d done the right thing or not. After her experience with nineteenth century medicine, would she be able to put aside her worst fears and trust in the doctors of the present? Had he done nothing more than give her something to agonize over?

  He held her arm as he guided her back to the car and helped her in. She settled into the seat, distracted, fumbling with the safety belt until he clicked it into place for her. Climbing behind the wheel, he fired the ignition, then glanced over at her as he pulled into the traffic and headed home.

  “One thing the doctor assumed you would already know,” Ty offered, “is that all the procedures are done in a sterile environment.” He rolled to a stop at a red light. “The doctors in your time were just learning the importance of cleanliness, and even then some didn’t believe it played a part in medicine at all. Not until they realized the improvement the simple act of washing their hands between examinations made in their patients did doctors even begin to consider that cleanliness contributed to recovery.” He took her hand, easing on the gas when the light turned green. “Callen, in this time, someone can…lose an arm in an accident and have it successfully reattached.” He’d almost told her that people could have diseased hearts and other organs transplanted with healthy ones, but he didn’t think she was ready for the answer of where the new hearts came from. A question she would undoubtedly ask. No, she needed to be a little more acclimated to this time before she found out about some things. As it was, she looked at him in shock and awe.

  “Truly?”

  He nodded.
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  “Oh, imagine all the poor soldiers who lost limbs during the war. So many of them could have led such different lives.”

  Most of those limbs might have been saved in the first place, but Ty didn’t know enough to go into detail.

  “Medicine today compared to nineteenth century medicine is like…like the airplane compared to the horse and buggy. But, if not for what the doctors learned during the Civil War and the conditions they were forced to practice under, we wouldn’t be as advanced as we are today.”

  Callen nodded and leaned her head back against the seat. She stared straight ahead, at something deep inside her. For once she didn’t have questions about every little thing they passed on the road.

  When they pulled into the driveway, he hopped out and went around to open her door. She took his hand and stepped onto the running board.

  “Ty,” - she looked at him, resolution outweighing the hesitance in her eyes – “can we go get Connor?” She squeezed his hand. “I have to give my baby this chance.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  “She’s from 1867,” Ty said, “and she has a little boy we have to go back and get."

  Dan gave him a blank stare, then pulled the pillow from beside him on the bed and stuffed it behind his head.

  “Gee, Dorothy, how’re you going to get there? Click your ruby red heels three times and make a wish? Or maybe you’ll just climb into the Way Back machine and set it for 1867.” He laughed and scrunched lower in the bed. “You’ve been spending too much time around those developing chemicals, bro.”

  “I’m dead serious, Dan.” Ty gave his brother a level stare. “I know it’s unbelievable. God knows, I wouldn’t believe it if I hadn’t lived it myself, but it’s true, and you’re going with us, so throw some clothes in a duffel bag and be ready to leave in half an hour.”

  Callen could tell from the quirk of Daniel’s brow that he was only humoring Ty when he got up and pulled a canvas bag from his closet.

  “Sure, Ty. I’d love to go. I’ll have the most original paper next fall when we write what we did on our summer vacation.”

  Ty just looked at him with the tiniest hint of a smile.

  “Thirty minutes, bro,” he said, then took Callen’s arm.“C’mon, sweetheart. Let’s grab your clothes.”

  The trip to Windsor seemed to take days. Daniel had flopped into the backseat with a pair of ear plug things in his ears – ear buds, Ty called them – with an odd request to alert him when they reached the Emerald City. The low thud of muffled music from the headgear stopped any attempt at conversation.

  Talking, however, was the least of her worries now. She could think of nothing but finding her son and getting him to Dr. Rayson.

  Though the trip seemed interminable, her worry at least distracted her from the hair-raising speed of the car. Would she ever grow comfortable in this time? Would she learn to take all its wonders in stride? Would Connor? And if he did, would he ever want to go back to his own time?

  As they neared her home she noticed all the changes her shock had prevented her from seeing on that first day.

  The Trace, so dangerous to travel in her time, was now a smooth, paved, scenic road. Placards marked battle sites from the war. Nothing looked familiar to her, even when they turned off at Port Gibson and drove the winding road toward Windsor. The absence of the river seemed eerily strange.

  She still found it hard to believe that just that morning they had been in Memphis, and now in early afternoon they were within minutes of her home, or so Ty promised. Even traveling via the river, one could never have crossed such a distance so quickly in her time.

  Ty slowed the car and turned onto a dirt drive full of ruts, flanked by scraggly overgrowth. They rounded the bend, and there rose the aged, towering columns of her beloved home. Hauntingly beautiful. Heart-breakingly stark. As shocking to see as that first time.

  Hot tears stung her eyes, but she set her jaw and blinked them away. Now was not the time to mourn.

  The dirt drive ended in a loop at what had been the side of the house, but Ty backed the car into the woods where it wouldn’t easily be seen.

  Daniel opened the door and slid out of the car, jammed his hands into his pockets, and looked around with a raised eyebrow.

  “So, Dorothy, it doesn’t look like the Wizard’s home.”

  Ty marched around the car and poked his brother in the chest until he staggered.

  “Look at me, Dan. Look me in the eye. I am dead serious here. I know you don’t believe me, but I have to know you’re going to cooperate. You made a mature decision yesterday when you came home from Sam’s. I want the same maturity now, until we accomplish what we came here for. Understood?”

  Daniel looked up at his brother and blinked in surprise.

  “Yeah, Ty. Sorry.”

  “Good. Grab your duffel bag and let’s go.”

  Ty walked over to Callen, who had stared at him through that whole speech. How like Tylar! She had seen him take on both Garrett and Stephen in much the same manner, when they’d all been boys. Patience to a point, and then setting them to rights.

  When he came to her now, his voice was the soul of gentleness.

  “Sorry about that,” he said, then raked his fingers through his hair. “But sometimes he gets carried away with his wisecracks and attitude.”

  She smiled and took his hand with a squeeze.

  “He’ll find out soon enough that this is real. And I know exactly how he is going to feel.”

  He smiled at her, then brought the backs of her fingers to his lips.

  “I love you, Callen.” He glanced behind him. Dan had retrieved his bag and now wandered the path that outlined the house. Ty pulled her into his arms with a kiss that left her breathless. “I want us to get married back there, Callen,” he murmured against her lips, his words like warm honey in her blood. “It will be easier in your time, and once we straighten things out here, we’ll make it legal in this time, too.” He held her face in his palms, smoothed his thumbs across her cheeks. “I can’t spend another night knowing you’re asleep on the other side of a wall. And I won’t leave you alone with Stephen. I don’t trust him not to spirit you away and force you to marry Hennessey.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “Will you marry me? As soon as we get there?”

  Callen’s heart took wing and soared.

  “Oh, yes, Ty!” she breathed. She kissed him then, the first time she had ever truly, premeditatedly kissed him as a wife kisses her husband. He groaned, pulled her tighter as she backed him against the car. Not until they heard Daniel’s footsteps did they separate, breathless, shaken.

  Ty scrubbed at his face while Callen straightened the skimpy sheath she wore.

  “That reminds me,” Ty said, his voice raspy. “You’ll want to change back into your gown.”

  “Oh, yes. You’re right, of course.” She plucked at the thin material of her dress. She almost hated to don that confining corset and all those yards and yards of stifling fabric. A realization struck her at the mere thought of getting dressed. “Oh, my,” she whispered.

  “What is it?” Ty asked as he pulled the armful of clothing from the back of the car.

  “I cannot…” She hesitated, chewing on her thumbnail. “That is to say…I cannot possibly dress without assistance.”

  Ty stared at her for a moment, then cocked his head.

  “Well…” He looked around, smiling. “Since there’s no sign of Magnolia, I guess I’m elected.” His words, his grin, sent a delicious ripple up her spine.

  She grabbed her underthings and looked for a more secluded spot.

  “This is probably safest,” Ty said in that way he had of reading her mind. “If anyone comes, you can dive into the back of the car. Dan!” Ty turned to his brother, who had been investigating the ruins. “Callen has to change, so you keep a lookout for cars, all right?”

  Dan nodded and waved, then wandered over to where he could keep watch of the drive.

  “Turn around,” Callen instr
ucted Ty, “and don’t turn back until I tell you.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said, his sigh dramatic, then turned and stared skyward, whistling off key.

  She peeled off her dress and bra, opting to leave on the panties. Never in her life had she disrobed outside, and now she shivered with absolute decadence. What an exhilarating sensation! As quickly as possible, though, she donned her chemise and stockings, slipping back into her new shoes, then hooked the corset and held it to her.

  He’s my husband, she told herself, trying to gather the nerve to ask for help. He is my husband. But a tiny voice reminded her that this Ty had yet to pledge his vows, and even if he had, five years of celibacy after only one night of marriage left her feeling more a virgin than a wife. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

  “Very well,” she said, her voice far too breathless.

  She heard the rustle of her gown in his arms as he turned, and a quiet, quickly muffled groan.

  “Wh—” He cleared his throat. “What do I do now?”

  “Tighten the corset strings,” she said, that dratted breathlessness still in her voice.

  The gown went flying into the back of the car right before she felt a gentle tug at the strings on her corset. She laughed.

  “Oh, Ty. Magnolia would slap your hands away and show you how to cinch a proper corset.”

  “What am I doing wrong?”

  “Pull them tight, until the edges come together, and then tighter still.”

  He tried, and she laughed again.

  “Yank on them. You won’t hurt me.”

  He yanked then, and the corset tightened against her. She let out her breath, allowing for more room to tighten.

  “This is a freakin’ torture chamber,” he growled as he tugged. “The minute we’re married, this thing comes off and we burn it!”

  “It’s a deal,” she wheezed as he tied the string at the bottom. She hadn’t spent more than a few hours out of a corset since she was twelve years old, except when she’d carried Connor. These past few days in such freedom had spoiled her.