Amy held her four-year-old daughter and hugged Jack and Patrick goodbye. Jack lifted his little blonde-headed Margaret Ann out of Amy’s arms, then swung her high in the air until she giggled. Then he gave her a big kiss on her cheek.
“Is Daddy’s little girl going to be good for Mommy?”
“We’re playing baseball,” Margaret Ann said. “I’m going to use my Christy Maf…son glove Mommy had made. It’s funny-looking.”
“Mathewson didn’t care what it looked like,” Jack said. “He was a helluva pitcher.”
Margaret Ann pushed against him to get down. “Bye, Daddy. Bye, Pat-Pat.” She ran off screaming for the youngest O’Gradys—cousins wee Heather and Betsy, and the youngest McBains, Laurie Wallis and twins Alicyn and Rebecca.
“Come back, lass,” Elliott called after her. “We’re going to take a clan picture.”
Margaret Ann made a U-turn and hurried back to stand by her parents and brother.
There was a calling of the clans: McCabes, McBains, Montgomerys, Frasers, Grants. Then came the Irish O’Gradys and Mallorys, and the Italian Riccis, one Moretti, and one Parrino.
Following group pictures, the travelers lined up for several small group ones. Phones were allowed briefly. While everybody else was wearing shorts, T-shirts, and summer dresses, the travelers wore tight breeches, leggings, embroidered and brocaded waistcoats, white linen stocks, and three-cornered hats.
“We look like damn American flags,” Pete groused. “This wig itches, and how the hell am I supposed to convince Sophia, while I’m wearing this getup, that I’m the man she married twenty years ago?”
“She’ll recognize you. You’ve aged some. We all have, but you’ve only added a couple of pounds. You still have all your hair, and only a few wrinkles at the corners of your eyes.” JL hugged Pete and kissed his cheek. “Here are my last words of wisdom. Don’t you dare let her get away from you again. Got that?”
Pete saluted, his eyes watering. “I don’t have a good feeling about this.”
JL’s eyes watered too. She tightened Pete’s stock and straightened it. “Listen here, partner. When we were out on surveillance, you never had a good feeling about what we were doing. So forget about the hairs on the back of your neck, or your spidey senses, or whatever is acting up right now. Forget them. They aren’t worth shit.”
Blane, standing beside her, gasped. “Moo-oom! You said a bad word.”
“I know,” JL said. “But sometimes it’s all Pete understands.”
“Do you know what shit means?” Blane asked.
“Shh,” JL said. “You’re not supposed to use that word.”
“Then how the hell is Uncle Pete supposed to understand me?” Blane asked, waving his arms.
“You’re not supposed to use that word either.”
“Then how is anybody supposed to understand me? Pops says hell and Grandpa Elliott says hell and shit and fu—”
JL slapped her hand over his mouth. “Don’t you dare say it.”
He peeled her hand away. “I was going to say funny words. What the hell did you think I was going to say?”
JL turned around and yelled, “Kevin Fraser, come get your son.”
Kevin sauntered toward her, trying hard to keep a smile from popping out. “Come on, Blane. Let’s play soccer.”
Blane turned to run off, but stopped and hugged Pete around the waist. Then he shook his finger, and lowering his voice said, “Hey, let’s be careful out there.”
“Okay, Sergeant,” Pete said, giving him a smart salute.
Blane giggled and ran toward his dad. “I said it just like Sergeant Esterhaus.” Excitedly, Blane jerked his fist up and down. “Just like him!”
JL glared at Pete. “He’s too young for that show.”
He shrugged. “Blane comes from a family of cops. What can I say?”
“One day you’ll have kids of your own and it’ll be payback time.” Then she hugged Pete again. “Look, I hope this works out, because I won’t be able to deal with what comes next if it doesn’t.”
“What do you think comes next?”
“You’ll find someone on the rebound, marry quickly, and you’ll never be happy.”
Pete shook his head. “No, I won’t, and that’s a shitty picture.”
“I’m just telling you like it is. After all, I’m the biggest optimist in this family,” JL said.
“Bullshit,” Jack said.
JL gave Jack a hug, too. “Take care of him, will you? Don’t let him get his heart broken again.”
Jack hugged her back. “I’ll do what I can. Take care of my family.”
“Sure will. I won’t let them out of my sight.” She looked over at Amy and winked.
Matt moved away from his teary-eyed wife and joined the others under the tree. “Let’s get this show on the road.”
“Wait.” Robbie and Henry streaked across the lawn, cloth sacks flopping in their hands. “We’ve got something for you.” The twins skidded to a stop in front of the three teenagers and handed them each a knapsack. “We filled these with candy bars and chips and gum and stuff. You know, in case you’re there for a day. You’ll get hungry. Back then they didn’t have good stuff to eat,” Robbie said.
“We were going to put a six-pack of Cokes in there, but we figured they’d explode in the vortex.”
“Wouldn’t that be cool, Robbie?” Henry said.
The twins looked at each other like they were reconsidering their decision not to include soft drinks. Then they shrugged. “If they’re going to explode, we want to be there. Right?” Robbie asked.
David squeezed his sons’ shoulders. “That’s a sign of true sportsmanship, lads. I’m proud of ye.”
“We know you wanted to go,” Lincoln said. “We’ll bring back pictures, but we won’t talk about the adventure unless you want to hear what happened.”
Robbie and Henry ducked their heads and dug divots in the ground with the heels of their sneakers. After a moment, Robbie’s head popped up, then Henry’s. “We want to hear everything. Especially the stuff the uncles don’t know about. Got it? So have fun for us,” Robbie said.
“And if you see George Washington, ask him if the cherry tree story is true,” Henry said.
“That’s a good one Henry. I’ll do it,” Noah said.
David smiled at Kenzie, who was wiping her eyes. She mouthed, “Love you, McBain.”
Pete joined Matt and Jack under the tree next to their leather trunks and suitcases. Matt looked a little sickly. “You okay, man?” Pete asked.
“I’ve heard about all the twisting and turning. I’ve never liked roller coasters.”
“It goes fast, but you won’t be the first one to get sick.”
Matt gave Pete a hopeful look. “Did you get sick the first time?”
“No one knows. So let’s keep it between us.”
“Thanks. Even if it’s not true, I feel better.”
“Hey, man.” Pete winked. “I wouldn’t lie to you.”
Elliott gave Pete the sapphire brooch. “Here’s your backup.”
Pete tried pinning it to the inside of his waistcoat pocket, but his hand shook. He was like a new rookie officer feeling like he belonged anywhere but where he was. After piercing his finger twice, he got it pinned, then tugged on it just to be sure.
Elliott gave the diamond brooch to Jack. “Don’t throw it out any windows.”
“I’ve got too much to come back to. I won’t screw around.”
Elliott then shook hands with the men, and each one pulled him in for a man hug and slap on the back. When he let go of Pete, Elliott said, “It’ll work out. It may not be easy, but it will eventually work out.”
“Are you giving me Obi-Wan Kenobi advice?” Pete asked.
“It’s the only kind I’ve got.” Then, seemingly as an afterthought, Elliott said. “If ye have to tell Jefferson the truth, tell him anything but the date of his death. No man wants that information.”
“And don’t screw with the slav
ery issue,” Braham added. “If the states settle the issue early in the nineteenth century, there won’t be a Civil War. If there’s no war, I’ll never meet Charlotte. Remember, ye’ve messed over yer sister once before, Jack. Don’t do it again.”
“But you can do a lot for women’s suffrage, so feel free to interfere on behalf of women everywhere,” Kenzie said. “We might be accepted as cadets into West Point sooner than 1976.”
“I won’t touch slavery but will advocate for women. Anything else?” Jack asked.
“Term limits would be good,” Charlotte said.
“If they institute term limits, Mom and Dad wouldn’t spend half a century in the Senate,” Jack said.
Charlotte gave her brother an odd look. “So? My parents were schoolteachers.”
“Goddamn it. Let’s get out of here,” Jack said. “Charlotte will never let me forget my screwup.”
Charlotte laughed. “I forgave you years ago, but I don’t mind letting you feel unforgiven occasionally. It keeps you humble.”
“I’ll make sure Dad doesn’t mess up,” Patrick said. “I don’t want to be back on the streets of New York City in 1909.”
“The ripple effect could send me back to 1878 Colorado,” Noah said.
“Geez. I’d never be born,” Lincoln said. “Maybe we should reconsider this trip.”
The boys looked at each other, lips pursed, foreheads scrunched, heads shaking.
Lincoln, carrying a suitcase, stepped out of line. “I’m not going.”
Patrick picked up his bag. “If you’re not going, I’m not either.”
“I’m not going to be the only kid on this trip. I’m out of here. Sorry, Grandpa,” Noah said, grabbing his bag.
“Wait a minute,” Robbie said. “You can’t change our history. We can go now.” He snatched the goody bag from Lincoln’s hand. “I’ll need this. It’s packed with my favorite junk I’m not allowed to eat except on trips.”
Henry marched over to stand next to his brother, squaring his shoulders, and grabbed the bags from Noah and Patrick. “Yeah. That’s right. You can’t mess up our history.”
Matt leaned over, propping his hands on his knees, bringing himself eye level with the McBain twins. “What event did we talk about last month? There was a big anniversary.”
The twins looked at each other. “D-Day?” Robbie asked.
“Yeah, it was D-Day when all those brave men stormed the beaches in Normandy. I remember,” Henry said. “What’s that got to do with us?”
“I was there,” Kenzie said. “Or would have been if your dad hadn’t rescued me.”
“I rescued her for the second time in only a few hours,” David added. “If yer mother had stayed put—”
“What?” Kenzie sounded scandalized…if you ignored the grin toying with the corners of her mouth. “Don’t you mean if you hadn’t lied to me?”
David kissed her. “Water under the bridge, Kenz. This has been litigated over and over.”
“You’re right.” She looked down at her sons. “If World War II doesn’t happen… If D-Day doesn’t happen, your dad and I won’t meet. You could be a ripple effect too.”
The boys gasped, their mouths forming amazed circles. “Say it ain’t so, Kenz.”
“’Fraid it is. Do you still want to go?” she asked.
They shook their heads. Then Robbie said. “Sure. I want to go.” Then he giggled, grabbed Henry’s hand, and the twins ran off to join the other kids on the volleyball court. “Have a good time,” they yelled.
The three teenagers shucked their coats and picked up paper plates at the table. “We’ll grab a couple of burgers and be right here when you come back,” Lincoln said.
Charlotte, Amber, and Amy immediately gathered for a group hug, bouncing around like they’d won a tournament. When they finally moved apart, they physically deflated with relief. Some of their relief rubbed off on Pete. The situation he, Matt, and Jack were heading into would take a great deal of massaging, and having three impatient teenagers around would have caused more tension. And he was already tense enough.
Jack made a circling motion with his hand. “Gather around and let’s get out of here.”
The three men formed a circle around their luggage and linked arms. Jack opened the brooch, and all together they recited the chant: “Chan ann le tìm no àite a bhios sinn a’ tomhais an’ gaol ach ’s ann le neart anama.”
The air was heavy with the fragrance of peat. A thick fog rose from the ground in a strong blast of air, swirling and creeping up into the willow oak.
Blane waved his arms and turned in a circle. “Where’d they go, Mommy?”
“They’ll be right back. Hang on a minute.”
It was the last thing Pete knew until a sour smell nearly gagged him. His stomach churned, but he couldn’t take deep breaths to settle it because of the smell. When the fog cleared so did the stink. He had no idea where he was, or where Matt and Jack were, but thankfully his senses weren’t on high alert. There appeared to be no immediate danger.
Damn. Where the hell was he? France or America. God, he hoped it was France. Was the nearby water the Hudson River or the Seine?
He walked down an incline toward a small, private beach and studied the shoreline on the opposite side. His stomach roiled again. Say it ain’t so, Joe.
39
New York City (1790)—Pete
Pete’s jacket flapped open in the breeze stirred up by the river. It was definitely the Hudson not the Seine. The air was warm, but not hot and muggy. The trees surrounding the private beach were in full leaf, and late spring flowers painted the slope in vibrant colors. It could be early June.
What did that mean for Sophia? Matt mentioned Jefferson had been involved in a big event in June, but Pete hadn’t been paying attention. His only thought was Sophia, finding her, apologizing, and confessing his love. In that order. He couldn’t think about her possible feelings for Jefferson. Whatever they were, she had to let them go and come home. Period. He knew what was best for her.
He was operating under the assumption it was 1790…but was it? They had newspapers, right? All he had to do was find one.
He’d spent a couple of decades as a detective in this city. He knew how to find information and locate people. He was in his element. Although early New York in no way resembled the city he knew so well, he did know a few historical facts about the city, like Evacuation Day, the day the British left New York at the end of the war. In hindsight, he should have read a history book in preparation for this trip. Honestly, though, the only history he was interested in was his own, and he was here to change it, to rewrite the mistakes of his youth.
But first he had to find Matt and Jack.
When they went back for Amy, they all landed in Central Park, but were scattered all over the eight hundred forty-acre park. The brooch had dropped them like pick-up sticks that time. And it looked like the brooch did it again.
There had been a reason for separating them in the park. JL was mistaken for a prostitute and arrested, but she got a lead on Amy’s whereabouts while in jail. So, if there was a reason now, Pete had to be open to all possibilities, even one that might send him off course.
He slung his knapsack over his shoulder and proceeded up the slope at the opposite end of the beach, finding himself at the New York Harbor. The only people around were the men who worked there, and they didn’t even give him a passing nod.
He walked along a row of red brick townhomes and reached an old fort in the process of being razed. The demolition crew was dumping the debris into the river for landfill. If this was the tip of Manhattan, he was watching the destruction of Fort Amsterdam. The construction of the fort in the 1600s marked the official founding of New York City. Now the Alexander Hamilton U.S. Custom House stood there. He could thank one of his teachers in elementary school for that tidbit. Or was it in middle school? He couldn’t remember. Until college, he’d lacked focus. Then the Marines finally straightened him out.
Was
it possible Sophia’s parents had been right to do what they did? No. Never in a million years. Even if they were still living, he wouldn’t let them off the hook. And he’d never once been tempted to light a candle for them.
He turned away from New York Harbor, teeming with sailing ships, and headed toward town until he reached a teardrop-shaped park enclosed by a cast-iron fence with sawn-off finials—another historic landmark. The landmarks still standing could be counted on one hand. Maybe two, but not many more.
He’d reached Bowling Green Park, the first public park in New York City. There was no Charging Bull. No Fearless Girl. But even in the twenty-first century, she wasn’t there now. The symbol of female empowerment had been moved to stand in front of the Stock Exchange. He liked her much better facing down a charging bull.
He pictured Sophia as Fearless Girl. How many men with archaic values had she argued with while living in the past? He’d argued with the mayor and city council members over relocating the bronze sculpture. Their reasoning that in her new location she would inspire more companies to hire women—Fearless Girl’s original purpose—didn’t fly with him.
He couldn’t imagine the feisty woman he knew would put up with harassment and discrimination. Didn’t men in the eighteenth century believe women belonged at home with the children? If anything, that alone convinced him Sophia wouldn’t stay here if she had a chance to leave.
Finding landmarks calmed and somehow settled him with a sense of belonging. This was his city. And he loved it. In this time, the park was at the center of the fashionable residential area. If he hung around, everyone of importance would pass through here. There weren’t any benches like there were in the future, so he paced back and forth, watching and waiting.
Men strolled in and out of the park and talked among themselves. Pete was good with faces, and so far he hadn’t recognized any of the men whose pictures Matt showed him. Jefferson’s face was imprinted on his brain forever. If he came around, Pete would recognize him. He wasn’t sure what he would do. He couldn’t demand to know where to find Sophia, but he could tail Jefferson. Sooner or later he’d lead Pete directly to her.
The Pearl Brooch Page 50