"Absolutely. I gave her a complete physical like you asked and, well, I was thinking the same thing you were. You know, some of these young women from the, um, poorer families are not very, um, astute about these things."
"But didn't she register as a married woman?"
"Yes, but look at this, doctor." She held up the paperwork Bronwyn had filled out and said, "At the very least, she hasn't been married very long because she's not used to writing her last name. She started to sign a different last name then, when she did write Kerrigan, it's written like someone writing a word they're not familiar with."
"You should have been a hand-writing analyst, Willie," Clidens laughed.
"When I was little, my brother Henry and I used to try to copy each other's handwriting. Always had it in mind that we were going to try and trick our teachers, but we never did. Never could think of a good reason, I guess."
"Maybe they're taking it slow," the doctor shrugged, moving back to the subject of Bronwyn's virginity. "More couples should do that. Might make good sense physically and emotionally." After another moment or two of looking over the test results, he reentered the room where Bronwyn waited. "Still feel OK?"
"Fine," she nodded. "Like I wasn't even feeling bad an hour ago. So what's the prognosis?"
"To tell you the truth, Mrs. Kerrigan, we can't find anything wrong with you. It's very possible you just picked up a bug or something. With your permission, we'd like to send your samples down to Abilene and see if they can find anything that we missed."
"Sure. I'd just like to know what's wrong."
"Well, as soon as you're dressed, you may leave."
Glad to get out of the revealing hospital gown, Bronwyn replied with enthusiasm, "Thank you, doc."
"So, any idea what's wrong?" Jason asked.
"I'm not pregnant," Bronwyn shrugged.
"Was that a question in your mind?" he asked with surprise.
"No! Not at all. But that's apparently the symptoms I have—and the only conclusion they could arrive at."
"So no idea at all?"
"Apparently not. The doctor also said it seemed a little like a concussion, but I don’t remember hitting my head recently. Do you remember me hitting my head?”
“No. But what bout during one of those collisions?”
“I don’t think so—and those were a while back. They're going to send my blood to Abilene for more tests, but I don't know what they'll find—if anything." She hopped up on the fender of the car he was working on and said meekly, "Jason?"
"Yeah?" he looked up from putting the head back on because he heard something in her voice, something that sounded like fear.
"I was just wondering . . . what if I have whatever it was that killed off everyone in the future? And what if I brought it back with me?"
Looking at the fear in her face, he laid down his tools and wiped his hands on a rag. He came around in front of her and put his arms around her. She eagerly wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her head against his shoulder. He couldn't hear her crying, but if felt like she was.
He liked holding her and was thinking he ought to try it some time when she wasn’t crying. After a while, he told her softly, "I've got some good news."
She sat back up and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. With a sniffle, she said, "I could use some."
"Ernie likes my work so well that he's going to take a few days off." When the import didn't seem to immediately register on her, he said, "That means a little extra pay, for one thing. For another, I was thinking we could pull the 42 in here and disconnect Eddie before someone finds him and starts trying to figure out what he does. Finding the airplane's one thing—but if someone were to find Eddie . . . " he let the sentence drift off, not needing to explain the bad news such an occurrence could entail.
"And how do you propose to get a fighter airplane in here without anyone noticing?"
"I figured that out—I think. Back behind here is an open field, right? I was thinking that you could get out there at night with a couple of these cars and shine the headlights on the field. Then, I can cut the engine and glide in for a landing." At her skeptical look, he added, "Come on, we did it all the time in flight school. And it's the only way to keep people from hearing the plane's motor."
"For one, you did it in flight school with a plane designed for gliding. And what about in here? Don't think the locals are going to notice that you've got an airplane stashed in here?"
"Not for long. If we work together, with the tools in here we can get Eddie completely off the plane in less than two hours. Then, we fly her back over to the barn and park her there. Once we've got a little money, we buy or rent a place with a barn that we can park her in and start taking her apart. Or maybe we just repaint her enough to look like a private airplane. Some cosmetic work and maybe we can get her to look like one of the planes around here—they do have planes in this world, don't they?"
"Yeah, lots of them. Well," she hesitated, "It's a nutty idea but it's the only one that seems like it will work." Realizing that his arms were still around her, she said, "Hey, thanks for holding me. I really needed it."
"I kind of like it myself."
"With those greasy hands of yours, you've probably ruined my only clean dress."
With one hand still around her, he reached into his pocket with the other and said, "I almost forgot. Here's a couple dollars one of the Pace boys tipped me for tuning up their carburetor. Go down to that second hand shop and see what you can get."
"Thanks," she nodded. Stuffing the money in her shoe, she took a step and grimaced. So she pulled the money out of her shoe and did something she had seen an old lady do once that she had always said she would never do: she stuck it in her bra. Looking at him with embarrassment, Bronwyn said, "First thing I'm going to look for is something with a pocket."
Blushing from the sight of the lace edge of her bra—and just the fact that a woman was placing something next to her breast—he said uncomfortably, "I probably better get back to work. Ernie'll be back from lunch soon."
She kept her hands on him and as he looked up, she said, "Something may have happened today."
"What's that?"
"I don't really want to mention it but, well, the nurse at the doctor's office may have seen through our story. Or gotten suspicious, at least."
"Why do you say that?"
She looked up nervously at the ceiling and told him, "I probably shouldn't even say anything. Kind of wish I hadn't, now. But, um, during the physical I think she figured out that, um, we're not really married. Or, at least, she got suspicious."
"What do you mean?"
Blushing Bronwyn replied, "We sleep on separate sides of the bed, Jason."
"What does that—oh. I never thought of that." Uncomfortably, he said, "Well, um, when this is over. I mean, when we figure out what we're going to do long term, we can head out and, well, you can go your way and I'll go mine and then we won't have to keep up the act. Then, if you ever have to go to the doctor again—"
"No, Jason. That's not what I'm going to do. That's not what I want to do." She bit her lip nervously, the said, "I want to ask you something that's, well, somewhat forward of me. Something a girl shouldn't ask."
His eyes got big as quarters and he said, "Oh, I'm sorry Bronwyn, but no. I couldn't sleep with you—"
She slapped him lightly on the cheek and said, "I wasn't even thinking of that, Jason. I'm not that kind of a girl! I don't care what the doctor or his nurses think of me. Anyway, they probably just think I was lying about being married and that would make them curious why since I'm obviously not underage or anything. Probably think we're outlaws on the run or something." Turning beet red, she took a deep breath and said, "What I was going to ask you—what I am asking you—is if you'll marry me."
Chapter Fourteen
"Do you really mean that or are you just asking because of the circumstances?"
She tilted her head in thought for a little bit before
saying, "I really mean it. Last night, I lay in bed knowing you were there next to me and I wanted so badly to reach out. Just to touch you. But well, it didn't seem right for a lot of reasons—we're not married, you had just seen Susan, I didn't want it to be misinterpreted. The list I made up in my head went on and on and I think I can remember every item.
"Yeah, the circumstances do play a part. I'd be lying if I said they didn't. You and I share something no other people in the world ever could. We share a world that's gone now—or maybe never was. I can't deny that that's a part of it. But I also can't deny that—" she hesitated then took a deep breath, steeled her will, and added, "I love you. I really do, Jason. I know we've never said it—that I've never said it—but I do."
He started to say something in return, but she put her fingers to his lips to silence him. "I know I've blindsided you with this. If you need time to think about it—if you need a lot of time to think about it—I'll wait. For one thing, what if I am like the travelers from China who brought the black plague back to Europe and almost wiped out mankind? You're not going to want to marry someone who is about to be the end of mankind and life as—"
Jason silenced her by leaning forward and kissing her on the mouth. To his thinking, it was the first time he had ever kissed her. She had kissed him before—on the lips, even—but he had never returned the kiss. And the kisses on the cheek to look like a married couple, well, they didn't count. They weren't any different from the kisses he would have given an aunt or a cousin.
Bronwyn was so shocked that she almost forgot to kiss him back. It took a moment to remember, but she finally did. She had kissed boys before—some of them quite actively—but she had never kissed someone like this. It wasn't that he was a better kisser (whatever that meant), or that these kisses were "hotter." It was that these were kisses of love. She wasn't sure how she knew that, but she was sure they were. So she wrapped her arms tightly around him and returned the kiss for all she was worth—
And then the bell sounded that someone had pulled up to the gas pumps. It made them both jump out of their skins and broke the kiss off as if they had been hit by a wave of cold water. "Hold that thought," Jason told her as he left to go tend to the customer. It occurred to him to be glad that Bronwyn didn't wear lipstick. As it was, he imagined he had a pretty visible shade of natural blush on his cheeks, anyway.
"Weinert. Maybe Munday." Jason said as he reentered the bay where Bronwyn was waiting for him.
"What's happening in Weinert on Monday?"
"Not on Monday, in Munday. It's a town," he corrected her.
"What are you talking about?"
"When I was growing up here there was a Justice of the Peace in either Weinert or Munday—I can't remember which—that was known to perform weddings for anybody. Maybe he's still there. We don't have birth certificates or identification, you know."
"What are you—" she put her hands to her mouth as she gasped with joy, "Is that a yes?"
"I do love you, Bronwyn." He pulled her into his arms and kissed her again. He had known it was true as soon as she had asked him, and then there had been a big sense of relief that the knowledge was finally out in the open instead of hidden in his mind. After a bit, he said, "Now, it's my turn to say I don't want to rush you. If you want to wait and have a big wedding at one of the churches or something like that—"
"Saturday. Let's see if we can get that JP on the phone and we'll set up an appointment for Saturday. I don't have to work that night and we can, um, sleep in on Sunday."
"What if he says we have to bring witnesses?"
She thought a minute then said, "We'll find someone. Maybe the Kings."
"They're pretty serious church-going folks," Jason pointed out. "They might not appreciate it that we've been lying to them these last couple days. And, to their knowledge, living in sin to boot."
"But they're also really nice. Maybe we can figure out a way to let them know that we've, um, kept things, um, Christian between us, then they'll understand. That nurse is Henry's sister and can vouch for—but, no, we really don't want everyone knowing, do we?" Her eyes brightened as she asked, "How old do witnesses have to be?"
"I don't know, why? You thinking of rounding up someone at the grade school?"
"No, silly. But I'm betting that Chan and Bert would come with us?"
"Who are they?"
"Chan King, Henry and Una's daughter. Bert's her boyfriend. Bert White, I think his name is."
Jason laughed and said, "That'd be wild. Having one of the White boys at the wedding."
"Why?"
"Remember Whitey? From Crockett? Bert White is his little brother! 'Course Whitey wouldn't recognize me if he saw me, but it would sure be hard for me to see one of those boys and not treat them like I've known them for years. Why, I used to play football with their older brother Shorty! He fell on one of my fumbles in that Throckmorton game. You know, I saw him the other day. Came in for gas and didn’t—"
"You still haven't said yes, yet!"
"Yes! Yes, yes, yes!"
"So," she asked with a coy look in her eye, "Are you just marrying me because of the circumstances?"
"No. I'm not. I love you. And you know what else?"
"What?" She could tell by the look in his eyes that he was thinking something he wasn't saying.
"I think I'm going to have to sleep on the floor tonight—and every night until Saturday night."
Nodding, she smiled, "Tell you what. I'll trade you nights."
"No!" he told her forcefully.
"Listen to reason, Jason," Bronwyn told him with equal force. "Which one of us is better at no power landings?"
"But I'm better at emergency landings—which this practically is."
"You lost a wing the last time you landed under conditions like this!"
"Because I only had the one wheel. I land and that's final!"
"I knew this pocket would come in handy," she said as she reached into her dress. She produced a nickel, the only change from her clothes purchases of earlier in the day, and said, "Flip you for it."
He could just barely see the lights of the cars when he cut out the motor. But he had walked the "landing field" several times that afternoon and evening and was confident he knew it. At least this time, as he had reminded Bronwyn, he was landing with the gear down. And, other than the fact that the Comal 42 glided about like a brick with wings, it shouldn't be that much harder than landing the gliders back at flight school. Not that he had ever had to do it at night with the lights off and the only illumination coming from two old pick-ups and a Pontiac.
He had decided to come in from the east because, even though that meant he would be flying in over the town, the faint line of dusk at the horizon gave him a little orientation that he wouldn't have had coming in from the other direction. So he had cut his engine at the eastern edge of Haskell and coasted over the town like a dying quail.
In the seconds before he finally touched down, it didn't seem like he ever would. But when he felt that first touch, he was able to put the plane down in a fairly smooth landing—especially considering he was landing on a plowed field. He brought the plane to a stop with room to spare, then cut in the engine so he could taxi over to the garage.
Behind the garage, there was a full-sized door to the third bay. While it wasn't big enough to pull in an airplane with its wings fully extended, it was big enough to get the nose in under the lights so he and Bronwyn could set to taking Eddie off the airplane. Disconnecting the leads and removing the control were no problem, but the main unit—while relatively small—weighed in excess of three hundred pounds. With a series of jacks and levers, they removed the main unit and were able to wheel it inside, where they covered it with a tarp.
"I feel kind of cheated," Jason said abruptly.
"Huh?" Bronwyn asked, looking up from one of the leads. She was running a diagnostic on the machine to—as best as she could—make sure they were putting it away in good working order.
"Maybe cheated isn't the right word. And, you know, I don't really mind this world. This world isn't tremendously different from the other one—at least as far as my life is concerned. I have you, and that's all that really matters. And maybe it's better to have you in a world like this were we can get married and not be surrounded by war. But, well, I am a little upset that I went to all those years of schooling and now, if I want to be a professor like I planned, I'm going to have to go back again."
Bronwyn nodded, "I wonder how much of that we could lie about? Tell the colleges we studied a lot of books or something and then see if we can test out of some of the classes."
"It might be worth a shot. I know we'll have to take some classes. There are bound to be things that are done differently in this world than in our old one. Who knows, though, we might look like geniuses." At her skeptical glance, he said, "Who knows? Maybe I know something about engineering that no one here has figured out that I can pretend to discover and make a million dollars. Maybe you know something about physics that no one else here knows."
"Like how to travel through time?"
"I wouldn't bring that up if I were you."
"Might be worth a Tesla."
He shrugged, "I don't even know if they have the Tesla prize here."
After a moment, she asked, "Do you really think we can ever safely reveal this to the public?"
"I've been thinking about that myself. If there is a way to eliminate the time travel aspect, I think so. Imagine what it would do to transportation. Push a button and you've gone from Dallas to Helsinki in a second. It's got to be possible. Problem is, I'm just an engineer."
"Well, we know you can travel from Abilene to Lubbock in a single jump. What if someone made the trip as a series of jumps instead of one big one? It would still get you wherever you're going a lot quicker than anything else around."
"You may have something there. Still, we might need to install some sort of safeguards that keeps people from over-doing it. Or travelling through time."
The Legend of Garison Fitch (Book 3): Lost Time Page 22