Cross Stitch

by Amanda James

  Sarah traced her fingers along his stubbly chin and kissed him tenderly. ‘He saved me too, John, because without you, my life would be over.’

  Outside, the place was unrecognisable. Large parts of the grand old university were reduced to rubble, nearly all the trees gone, cars were upside down or piled on top of each other as if placed by a giant hand, sparking wires waved in the wind, and the matchwood debris of flattened buildings littered the landscape in every direction. So destroyed was this part of Topeka, Sarah felt as if she’d just arrived in a war zone after a direct hit and could in fact be back in 1940s Southampton again. Then the warmth of John’s hand on her shoulder seeped through the chill of her bones and she turned into him.

  ‘Let’s see if the powers will get us back now. I expect they’ll be bloody furious with me.’ John sighed into her hair.

  Sarah looked up at him and snorted. ‘Furious? I’m furious with them! They had better not punish you, given that they can’t seem to get any part of their job right at the moment!’

  Still holding each other a few moments later they appeared in front of their parents back in the kitchen.

  If Gwen and Harry had looked dumbstruck last time Sarah had come back, this time they looked as if they’d been struck by the tornado. Harry’s hair was stuck up due to the continuous raking of his fingers and his eyes were red and puffy. Gwen’s hair looked like she’d had a lightning rod pass through it and her eyes were barely visible through the smeared mascara which extended across most of her face.

  Even though the pair had clearly been to hell and back, Sarah burst out laughing and couldn’t stop. ‘You … look a real … fright, Mum,’ she managed to say between guffaws. She knew this reaction was mostly due to hysteria and relief, rather than their appearance, but the more her mother frowned and look indignant, the more she laughed.

  Harry looked at John and wiped at his eyes. ‘I see she’s just as daft as ever, then, lad?’

  John grinned and pulled Sarah to him. ‘Aye, Dad, and I wouldn’t have her any other way.’

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  It was the kind of morning silence that only a white-out could bring, the kind of silence that makes a person think that they have had cotton wool shoved into their ears by mysterious cotton wool shovers in the middle of the night. John stretched out in the warm bed, yawned and smiled at that very surreal thought so early in the morning. Would these said shovers be pixie-like in appearance or more trollish? He’d like to think pixie-like, carrying little wicker baskets on their backs full of cotton wool balls. ‘Daft as a brush, lad,’ his dad would have said if he could hear his son’s thoughts right now.

  Certainly daft, but more ecstatically happy John decided, turning on his side to watch the rise and fall of his wife’s chest as she slept. At last here they were safe together again, and this time they could rest assured that that would be an end to it unless Sarah opted to travel again. Just to do normal things like go shopping, walking or, if the cotton wool shovers had done their job properly, sledging, would be such a welcome change from being whisked back to various danger zones around time.

  John hopped out of bed and twitched back the curtain – yesss, they had done their job and John felt his stomach flip with excitement. Suddenly he was six again, gazing out over the white blankets the hills were rather fetchingly sporting against the navy dawn sky, and the Christmas cake look of their circular decking iced with snow. A robin alighted on the fence and cocked his head at him and John half expected the red Coca-Cola lorry to trundle up the road in the distance, complete with fairy lights and the Holidays Are Coming theme tune.

  ‘Sarah, wake up, come and look. It’s snowed over night. Isn’t that great?’ he called over his shoulder. A grunt and a sigh was all he received in response as Sarah snuggled back further under the duvet. John waited a few more moments and then slid back into bed a wicked tickle of glee in his belly. Carefully positioning his feet he placed them gently on the back of his wife’s thighs and buttocks.

  ‘Ow!’ Sarah sprang into a half-sitting position, her eyes still bleary with sleep, the duvet clasped to her chest. ‘What the bloody hell are you doing?’ she yelled, pushing his arms away as he tried to cuddle her. ‘Your feet are freezing!’

  ‘That’s because it’s covered with snow out there. Come on, let’s go sledging!’

  The alarm clock rocked on its feet under the force of Sarah’s clumsy pawing and she drew it close to her eyes. ‘But … but it’s only eight-fifteen … it must be still dark out there.’ She put the clock back, yawned and snuggled down again. ‘And it’s Sunday … go back to sleep, sweetheart.’

  ‘Sleep? We can sleep later this afternoon – but now, dear heart, is the time for an adventure.’ John grinned and unrolled Sarah from the duvet. ‘And it’s nearly Christmas!’

  This time Sarah was properly grumpy and she snatched the duvet back around her. She glared at him and pouted. With her frowny face and her tousled hair haloed in the lamplight John thought she looked a little like a disgruntled pixie. Perhaps she was moonlighting as a cotton wool shover and keeping it a secret. He chuckled and tried to pull her to him but to no avail. She pushed him away and sat up.

  ‘One, let me remind you that it is only ten days since our last “adventure”, one that I do not wish to repeat as long as I live. Even though it was really lovely to see Veronica again, that was a shock I could have done without.’ She counted on her fingers. ‘Two, let me tell you, I am all adventured out for the foreseeable, three, I am not going bloody sledging at this hour, and lastly, it is not nearly Christmas, it’s weeks away.’

  ‘Two.’ John grinned wondering if staying in bed with the grumpy Sarah might actually be preferable to sledging. Even when she was angry she looked like sex on a stick.

  ‘Two, what?’

  ‘Weeks until Christmas.’ John’s libido won over the snow covered wonderland waiting outside. Yup, the tingle in his groin suggested that Sarah’s duvet covered wonderland was definitely preferable. He snuggled down and stretched out his hand to her.

  She took it and settled down under his arm her silky hair caressing his chest. ‘So it is … I had no idea it was so close. I haven’t even thought about Christmas shopping or anything.’

  ‘Well, that’s hardly surprising given everything we’ve been through lately, is it?’

  ‘No, I guess not. I think I was just preoccupied with trying to get back to normal and so relieved on the one hand that the powers decided to leave us alone, especially after the 1941 trip that they seemed to know nothing about until a few days later, but on the other, not quite believing it, you know?’

  ‘Well, you said yourself that they owed us big time. And they more or less said that’s the reason that I didn’t get punished. And the wider world owes you. Remember that little girl, Barbara, you helped to rescue went on to do pioneering work in recognising and treating mental trauma. You’re always saying you can’t understand how people during the war managed to cope. Well, at least Barbara could draw on those experiences in her work to help others.’

  ‘Hmm. That’s true, but I still don’t get how saving Edward helped, apart from helping Veronica on a personal level obviously.’ Sarah traced a finger down John’s cheek thoughtfully. ‘And let me tell you, if they had punished you after everything that’s happened I would have personally hunted them down and killed them, powerful spindles or no,’ Sarah muttered and kissed his chest.

  John laughed and kissed the top of her head. ‘I actually believe you would have, Mrs Needler.’

  ‘You’d better believe it.’ She grinned up at him and traced a circle on his chest then stroked her fingers across his stomach. The idea of sledging was melting under the heat of her hand as it moved ever downward.

  ‘If you keep doing that, I won’t be responsible for my actions.’ John drew his hand down over Sarah’s arm and over the swell of her hip.

  ‘Well, thank goodness for that.’ She sighed as her fingers encircled him and her tongue flicked his ea
r.

  ‘I will let you have your wicked way on one condition.’ John rolled Sarah onto her back, brushed his lips over her breasts and then looked into her sky-blue eyes burning sapphire-deep with passion.

  ‘What condition?’ she muttered and moved her hips against him.

  ‘That we have breakfast in bed after and then we go sledging?’

  ‘That’s two conditions, I don’t know if I can agree …’ Sarah’s words trailed off as John kissed her tummy and then moved his head lower.

  ‘Your sausage is bigger than mine.’ Sarah pouted as she held hers aloft on a fork.

  ‘That’s what all the guys say to me.’ John grinned, taking a bite out of his and reached round behind him to plump the pillows. He still didn’t feel comfy though and shuffled his legs and the breakfast tray. ‘Why is it that the idea of breakfast in bed always sounds better than the reality?’

  ‘Is that a rhetorical question? You always say the same thing, my love, and stop shuffling or the tea will go all over the place.’

  John sighed and stopped shuffling. Did he always say that? He guessed he did. He also guessed that his wife knew his little foibles inside out but hadn’t said no to breakfast in bed, even though she knew he’d not be comfy. And that was because he’d really wanted it and would have been grumpy if she’d refused. So the deal was, she was prepared to put up with his chuntering just to try and make him happy.

  It wasn’t a huge thing, but John realised that this is what real love was all about. Little acts of caring, selflessness made up the whole. Grand gestures of flowers and champagne, meals at expensive restaurants had their place, but moments like this, moments that mostly got overlooked were the most important. John looked at his wife munching contentedly and tried to capture that image – this moment, in his heart like a snapshot of love that he could pick out, look at and remember how he felt right now in years to come. Moments and memories made a marriage, kept it strong.

  John laid his fork down and put his hand on hers. ‘I love you, Sarah.’

  Still chewing and with a dab of ketchup at the side of her mouth she furrowed her brow. ‘I love you too, sweetheart, but why so serious?’

  ‘Love is a serious matter, young woman, and don’t you forget it.’ John smiled, wiped the ketchup away and then continued with his breakfast. No point telling her what he was feeling. It wouldn’t come out right and then it would all just feel a bit flat. He decided to keep it to himself, treasure it. Another thought occurred that it was because he was often pants at sharing his feelings. But all guys were, weren’t they? Perhaps he should try and tell her after all. It would be good practice for teaching their boy; he wanted both his children to be able to express themselves openly and without embarrassment.

  Sarah took a slurp of tea. ‘Talking of serious matters, I wonder what Artie’s genius great-grandson is up to right at this moment?’

  John’s moment of openness had passed, but there would be another time. He’d make sure of it. ‘Well, as you know, the powers said that Artie the fourth is a ground-breaking medical scientist. Probably working on a cure for uncomfortable breakfasting in bed, I shouldn’t wonder.’

  Sarah laughed. ‘Yeah, you could write and ask him to do that for you. He probably has a window in his busy schedule.’ After another sip of tea she stared thoughtfully at a bit of toast in her hand. ‘I wonder if we really could write to him, you know, say how grateful we are for all his hard work and that he’s a credit to his dad who was another hero … you know rescuing you, and his great-grandfather being a brilliant senator and …’ A sigh finished the sentence.

  John took another mouthful and shuffled again. ‘You just realised the fatal flaw in the plan, huh?’

  ‘Hmm, he would wonder who we are and how come we just wrote to him out of the blue and—’

  ‘And a trillion more important things, like how come we seem to be authorities on the deeds of his family and acting like some weird overseas fan club. Not to say what the powers would do if they found out that we had made contact with actual people we have been involved with in the past.’

  A roll of her eyes and a shake of the head greeted his comments. ‘Oh, so there’s a rule about that too, huh? Why am I not surprised?’

  John just managed to swallow his mouthful of tea before he spit it out. Had his wife gone potty? ‘Blimey, Sarah, I don’t know if there’s a rule, but if there isn’t, there should be. You know full well that any information about the future should never be divulged when you are on a mission. How do you think getting in touch with people and saying, hey how are you? I’m Sarah. I rescued your great-grandfather in the 1870’s, pleased to meet you, would go down, eh?’

  ‘Don’t be stupid, it wouldn’t be as blatant as that, you’re just exaggerating the whole idea,’ Sarah snapped, pushing her tray away and flopping back on the pillow.

  ‘Er, I don’t think it’s me who is being stupid, hon. Any contact at all would be very dangerous and very irresponsible.’ He looked at Sarah who immediately closed her eyes against his stern expression.

  ‘Yes, but it would just be a letter. It wouldn’t say stuff about me rescuing both Arties, would it? And I genuinely would like to thank a guy who developed pioneering drugs to treat HIV, wouldn’t you?’

  ‘Of course, but it’s impossible. This emotional link to the 1874 Artie has to be cut now, love.’ He made his voice gentle as she opened her eyes and blinked away moisture. ‘The powers said it was because of him … Artie … that you missed him, that you were drawn back to Topeka and his grandson. And look what a fantastic job you did there, even though you weren’t even supposed to be there. You saved him and then he went on to marry and have a son – one of the pioneers of HIV.’ He traced the back of his hand along her jawline. ‘Think of all the thousands of lives you indirectly saved because of that. That should be enough for anyone, you, Super Stitch, included.’ He shot her a wide smile. ‘That’s it and that’s all, as you are fond of saying. You have to let go now, you’re having your own babies in the spring.’

  Sarah nodded and gave him a little smile. ‘I know. And I can’t wait, it’s just that I find it hard to send that little blond-haired guy out of my heart. I so loved being his mother, even if I wasn’t really his mother if you understand me?’ She swallowed and kissed his palm.

  ‘Of course I understand. You don’t need to send him away, just have him put in a safe place like precious memories.’ A beat, a deep breath. ‘It’s little moments and memories that are so important, don’t you think? Kind of what love is all about.’

  ‘Oh, John. That’s so true.’ Sarah’s voice caught as she slipped her arms around his neck and hugged him to her.

  Not bad for your first try. John closed his eyes and contentedly settled his head on her chest.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Family meals had begun to pepper the calendar on a regular basis Sarah noted as she returned from school on the last day of term. Christmas was less than a week away and she and John were due to go round to her mum’s that evening. Ella, Jason and Angelica would be there, and, of course, Harry. Harry and Gwen seemed inseparable at the moment, and although Sarah had had misgivings at first, she couldn’t be happier that her mum had found someone to be happy with too.

  A boisterous flutter in her tummy as she bent over to unzip her boots halted her in her tracks. That was definitely more like a kick this time. Sarah leaned against the banister at the foot of the stairs and ran the flat of her hand over her ever growing bump. She was immediately rewarded with another flutter underneath it. Little fingers of happiness twirled tendrils of love around her heart and she chuckled to herself. Two new lives growing inside me, how cool is that?

  The first time she’d felt them was the day they’d gone sledging and tumbled off into the powdery snow. She and John had lain on their backs, a tangle of arms and legs, their guffaws of laughter echoing around the countryside, and then a flutter had Sarah up and silent. Another, and she’d turned to John looking up at her, his face ch
illed red, his eyes green as new shoots in spring against the white landscape.

  ‘What’s up?’ he’d asked, concerned as he watched her run her hands over her tummy.

  ‘Nothing. Everything’s grand. I think I just felt our babies!’

  John had jumped up and tried to feel them too, but they had decided that two flutters were enough for the time being. Though Sarah was disappointed John couldn’t feel them, a little part of her wanted to keep the experience just for herself. Perhaps it was selfish, but she loved the idea that she was a mother. A woman had a special bond with her children and just for that moment she wanted it to be exclusive.

  John had felt them quite a few times after that day, and he had been as over the moon as had she been, but for that very first time when the babes had said, ‘Hey, Mum we’re here,’ and remembering how her heart had swelled with joy, well, she wouldn’t have changed that for the world.

  Normally four o’clock and almost dark would have made Sarah sigh. Winter was deffo not her most favourite time of year, but this year was different. She pulled the curtains and switched on the fairy lights on the tree they had put up at the weekend. The scent of pine resin filled the room and she hugged herself, a big soppy grin on her face as she watched the lights twinkle on and off. This time of year was much more exciting when you were expecting, in a lovely home and with the man of your dreams. There had been one Christmas after Neil had left her that she had barely functioned. If it hadn’t been for Gwen she shuddered to think what would have happened.

  Still, that was all behind her now and ‘forward’ was the only button she need press in her life. Christmas would be perfect this year, she just knew it. A white Christmas had been predicted and unbeknownst to John, Lucy and her husband were due to come over from France. They had managed to get some friends from a nearby stable to feed and care for the horses for ten whole days, so John would be chuffed to little mint balls. Sarah thought that Harry might spring it on him at the meal later. He’d said to her the other day that he had a little something up his sleeve for that evening.