The Pearl Brooch

by Logan, Katherine Lowry

  He smiled. “Sophia it shall be. Now come with me to the dining room.”

  Sophia followed him there, where he stopped in front of one of the windows and examined her betrothal ring. “I insist we open a bottle of wine for this special occasion. I’m sure the groom hasn’t traveled this far without a few bottles of his favorite wine crated among his luggage.”

  “General, you know him so well,” Sophia said.

  “I’m not sure what the occasion is, but if it involves my bride, I’ll certainly provide the wine for a celebration.” Thomas stroked his finger along the line of Sophia’s chin. “Do you have a preference, my dear?”

  “Humm. The Lafite? What do you think? We’ve enjoyed it at several important events, so perhaps it should be part of this one, too.”

  “Excellent choice.” Thomas went out to the hall to speak with the butler. When he returned, he said, “James will be instructed to find a bottle of the Lafite. Now we can continue. I’m anxious to discover this tradition you’ve been invited to participate in.”

  Sophia didn’t have to wonder. She already knew.

  “And your brooch is striking,” the general said. “I noticed it last time ye wore it but failed to mention how beautiful it is. The design is very similar to your ring.”

  “Did Mr. Jefferson design both?” Mrs. Mallory asked.

  Sophia placed her palm over the brooch. “No this is a—”

  Her breath caught. The world stopped turning on its axis, and instead flopped upside down, taking her with it. Panic doused her with uncertainty and fear, and her heart rate galloped far ahead of her present reality. She stood there staring, futilely wishing it wasn’t happening.

  But it was. The brooch was warm.

  “A what, dear?” Mrs. Mallory asked, her eyebrows arched.

  “A what?” Sophia repeated, unable to remember what she’d been talking about.

  “The brooch? You said it was a…”

  “Oh. Family heirloom. I’m sorry. I must be more tired than I thought. It was a gift from my grandparents.”

  “It compliments your ring beautifully,” Thomas said.

  “Under your watchful eye”—Sophia paused and faintly smiled—“the jeweler exceeded all expectations.”

  “This family tradition involves yer ring,” the general said. “It was begun by my four-times great-grandmother. She was convinced the diamond in her betrothal ring was paste. If she could prove it wasn’t genuine, she could call off the marriage she didn’t want. If she couldn’t etch her initials in the glass, it would prove the stone wasn’t real.”

  Sophia already knew what happened, but she asked because it was the proper thing to do. “Was the diamond real?”

  The general laughed. “Yes, and the marriage proceeded. Since then, all Mallory brides have inscribed their initials on the windowpane. Now that you are part of our family, I would like you to participate in this tradition.”

  So this was where Amy Spalding would inscribe her initials. Sophia tried to remember where Amy would scratch hers. If Sophia inscribed hers close to where Amy’s would be, there would always be a connection of sorts between them.

  Sophia stood in front of the window, her heart continuing to race. This was an important moment, not only for her and Thomas, but for Jack and Amy.

  “If you’ll take off your ring, darling, it’ll be easier to manage. I’ll help you.” Thomas pulled her hand from over her heart. “Your hand is very warm. Are you ill? Your face is flushed.”

  “No,” she said. “Just excited.”

  Thomas removed her ring and placed it in her palm. She almost dropped it, but her training kicked in and she focused on what she was doing. Satisfied, she slipped her ring back on her finger.

  The butler came to the dining room. “Mr. MacKlenna and Mr. Digby have arrived. Shall I show them in?”

  “Yes,” the general said. “They can join us in the drawing room.”

  “I’ll bring the wine there,” the butler said.

  They returned to the drawing room and greeted their guests. The conversation quickly turned to the Funding and Residency Acts, and continued throughout supper.

  When dinner ended, Sophia said, “While the conversation continues, I wonder if I might borrow Mr. MacKlenna for a few minutes?”

  Mr. MacKlenna pulled out her chair as the general and Thomas also stood. “Shall we walk along the river? It’s a delightful fall evening.”

  “Let me grab my shawl and I’ll be right with you.” Sophia returned to her room for her cross-body bag and shawl, then met Mr. MacKlenna at the door. As soon as they were far enough away that they couldn’t be heard she said, “The brooch is alive again. Why now?”

  He didn’t say anything for a long moment, then finally said, “I don’t know.”

  Sophia was aghast. “What do you mean you don’t know? You’re the expert. You’re the one who convinced me I was here to marry my soul mate. Now the brooch wants to take me home. Why now?”

  “I don’t know,” he repeated. There was no ambiguity, no hemming and hawing, no uncertainty. He simply didn’t know.

  She set her lips, making it obvious how angry she was, but she didn’t raise her voice. In the evening quietness, a raised voice would easily be overheard. “What do you know? Anything?”

  He exhaled heavily and turned to face her. “Legend says an ancient tribe once lived in Caledonia. They made the brooches from black rocks that had fallen from the sky and gemstones they acquired from trading with Vikings. After many centuries, a small group of survivors traveled south to the Highlands and intermarried with Clan MacKlenna. When the leader of the clan discovered the brooches possessed unusual powers, he took precautions to protect them from the outside world. He became known as the Keeper. When the Keeper uncovered a threat to the brooches’ security, he appointed twelve guardians to protect them. No one but the Keeper knew how many brooches there were, or the identities of those chosen to guard them. The knowledge has been passed down through generations of MacKlennas.”

  “You have the knowledge, then?” Sophia asked.

  He shook his head. “I was not in line to become a Keeper.”

  “Do you know about the unusual power?” she asked.

  “Only that the knowledge is of the future.”

  Sophia turned away from him and continued walking. “This doesn’t make any sense.”

  Mr. MacKlenna waited a moment before he caught up with her. “Don’t ye have knowledge of the future, lass?”

  “Yes, but I come from—”

  “Exactly,” he said.

  “I don’t understand. You explain one part by confusing me with another. I thought you told me I was here to marry my soul mate.”

  He tucked her hand around his arm and they continued along the shore. The sun was setting, and the panoply of trees—beech, dogwood, hickory, maple, and oak—were exploding in hues from bright, gleaming yellow to the deepest scarlets.

  “Since the first Caledonian married a Highlander, a marriage of soul mates has taken place, joining knowledge of the past with knowledge of the future.”

  She had never in her life been so confused, except for the day her parents put her on a plane to Italy. “Now I have a chance to go home.”

  “Ye’ve always had it, Sophia.”

  “No, I haven’t!” she said sharply between clenched teeth. “The brooch was dead to me.”

  He tapped her forehead with his fingertip. “Maybe ye don’t understand it here but do ye understand it here?” he tapped the pearl in the brooch. “What does yer heart tell ye?”

  “It tells me… It tells me I love Thomas, and I would never hurt him.”

  “But would ye give up yer life in the future because ye don’t want to break a man’s heart? Now ye know ye can go home, what do ye want?”

  They reached a fencerow marking the property line and turned around to go back. “Friends came for me, but I didn’t go. Doesn’t that answer your question?”

  He patted her hand in the crook of
his elbow. “No. Because ye believed this was where ye were supposed to be.”

  She glared at him. “Because you told me it was.”

  “Lass, the brooches are made from rock not of this world. We have no control over them. For centuries we have tried to understand the power, but we know only a portion of what’s to be learned.”

  “Tell me what to do,” she pleaded.

  “I canna tell ye. Ye have to do what’s in yer heart.”

  “You can’t leave me like this, without some advice, some direction. You can’t leave me out in the cold.”

  He turned to look at her and held her hands. “My advice, lass, is to tell Mr. Jefferson where ye’re from. Yer answer will come from him.”

  She snatched her hands away and swallowed a sob. “I know you’re the Keeper and you have all the answers to my questions. But you won’t tell me because you’ve taken some secret clan blood oath.

  “I’ve spent two decades studying faces and expressions, and I can see behind yours. You will go to your death with what you know, so I won’t ask again. You gave me the only advice you could, and I will accept it. I don’t know how Thomas will handle the news. It might make sense to him, or it might destroy his love for me.”

  “But ye have to tell him.”

  Sophia glanced toward the house. Thomas and Mr. Digby were coming toward them through the twilight. “Oh, one more thing. Now I know why you haven’t let me talk to Mr. Digby. You’re afraid his blood oath isn’t as strong as yours.”

  She whirled on her heel and hurried to meet Thomas. He pulled her shawl up on her shoulders. “Did you and Mr. MacKlenna have a productive conversation?”

  She looked at Mr. MacKlenna. “Oh, sure. He told me everything I wanted to know.”

  Mr. MacKlenna and Mr. Digby nodded at them and strolled off back toward the house.

  “You look angry,” Thomas said.

  “Maybe a little, but mostly just confused.”

  “Tell me. Perhaps I can help you straighten it out.” He guided her toward a stone bench beneath the willow oak.

  “I’m not sure it’s possible. It’s very convoluted.”

  “You’ve told me many convoluted things. I can listen to another one.”

  Oh, God. How could she do this to him? She’d been lying to him for more than a year. Once trust is lost, it’s almost impossible to reclaim.

  He’d never again believe another word she said. Their relationship would never be the same. He would never be the same. He’d look at her with contempt, and it would break her heart.

  She loved him, and she loved what they had together. The small chill in her heart expanded until it chilled her through and through.

  He pulled her into his arms. “You’re shivering. We should go inside.”

  “It’s not the temperature. Kiss me.” The kiss was delicious and impatient at the same time. It wasn’t a devouring kiss, but, while it was languid, it was driven by a need to possess him, to be part of him, now and always. She clung to him, wanting to rip off his clothes and make love in a way she never had before. Rough and certain and demanding.

  When they broke apart, he wrapped his arm around her and held her close. “Tell me, Sophia. Your mind is restless. We’ve been together every day for fourteen months and I’ve never seen you this distressed, not even when your knee was injured.”

  She pulled away from him and sat up straight, touching her warm brooch. “Here it is. I’m…I’m not from here, Thomas.”

  “I know, darling. You’re from New York.”

  “Yes, but I’m not from this time. I’m from the future. From the twenty-first century.”

  He looked completely blank for a moment, as if not grasping what she’d said. Then it struck him, and blood rushed to his face.

  “Think back. To our early conversations. To my predictions. To my unusual knowledge. To my strange statements.”

  “It’s rare for a woman to know what you know, but—”

  “Thomas, it’s rare for anyone to know what I know, because I’m not from here. I’m from another time.”

  “This is impossible. Is Mr. MacKlenna responsible for this craziness?”

  “He knows I’m not from here.”

  Thomas pushed to his feet and paced. “I don’t know why you’re saying this and discrediting a valuable member of the Virginia Assembly.”

  “Would you be still and just listen to me for a minute? Then I’ll answer all your questions.”

  “Answer this and then I’ll listen, because if you can solve this problem, I’ll believe anything you say. Why can’t I grow grape vines at Monticello?”

  “I told you I wasn’t from here, and you want to know why you can’t grow grapes? I’ll tell you. Trying to cultivate Vitis vinifera, the classic European wine species, is virtually impossible until many years in the future. You can’t control black rot and destructive pests such as phylloxera. Monticello will eventually find success in the twentieth century, when your European varieties are grafted on hardy, pest-resistant native rootstock.”

  Thomas dropped back onto the stone bench. “How could you possibly know that?”

  “Do you know how many times you’ve asked me that very question? I lost count the first week I was in Paris.”

  “Still. How do you know?”

  “In the twenty-first century, I dated a man who was a wine broker. He taught me everything I know about wine, including wines at Monticello.”

  “What does dating mean?”

  “I had a relationship with him.”

  “Did he bed you?”

  She closed her eyes and grimaced. “Thomas—”

  “Did he?”

  “I’ve never told anyone, but he cheated on me. I broke up with him and haven’t seen him since. And that’s all I’m going to say about it.”

  “You said you would answer all my questions. That’s one of them.”

  “Don’t you want to know about the moon? How many amendments there are to the constitution? How many states make up America in the twenty-first century?”

  He leaned back against the tree and crossed his arms. “Am I limited?”

  “Limited? What kind of question is that?”

  He looked down his nose at her.

  “No, you’re not limited.”

  “Then I want to know.”

  By not telling him, she was making a much bigger deal of it. “Yes, I slept with him.”

  “But you wouldn’t with me. Why?”

  “I don’t have any birth control.”

  “What is that?”

  “To keep from becoming…enceinte. In my time there are multiple ways, which allows more sexual freedom.”

  “I already do not like your time.”

  “You would be fascinated by the science, the medicine, the technology. You wouldn’t sleep for days.”

  He leaned forward and pressed his elbows on his knees. “How did you get here? By ship?”

  She fluttered her hand through the air like a dancing firefly. “Through space. Through a vortex. Through a door that opened and ushered me in.”

  “Let’s walk,” he said.

  He didn’t touch her this time. He kept a small distance between them as they strolled along the shore, the same path she had taken with Mr. MacKlenna.

  “When my grandmother died,” Sophia said, “she gave me this brooch. I only discovered its unusual qualities later. Inside the pearl is a Gaelic inscription. When you recite the words, a fog engulfs you, and carries you to another time.

  “I arrived in Paris the day the mob stormed the Bastille, but my plan had been to arrive in 1786 and commission Vigée Le Brun to paint my portrait. Instead I arrived in 1789. I needed help, and Mr. Watin and Mr. David suggested I find you.”

  “Sound advice.”

  “I thought I would only be in Paris for two weeks.”

  “Why?”

  “That was the length of my previous trips. But this trip was screwed up from the beginning.”

  “Where else ha
ve you gone?”

  “I spent two weeks with da Vinci, two weeks with Pablo Picasso. The same with Donatello, Peter Paul Rubens, and Edgar Degas.”

  “I haven’t heard of Edgar Degas or Pablo Picasso.”

  “Picasso is from the twentieth century and Degas is from the nineteenth.”

  “Enough of this. I don’t believe Jesus Christ turned water into wine. How could I possibly believe you can travel through the centuries? You need to drop this notion immediately and never speak of it again.”

  She had to get through to him and there was only one way—shock him. “You’ll be the third president of the United States and the greatest man to ever hold the office. In 1969, men will land on the moon and take a giant step for mankind. Doctors will operate on brains and put artificial hearts into bodies. By the twentieth century, people in New York can talk to people in London and in China on a little box they hold in their hands. Hundreds of people will fly in one airplane from New York to London or Paris or Rome in a matter of hours.

  “In my time, there are forty-eight contiguous states from here to the Pacific Ocean three thousand miles away, plus Alaska and Hawaii. There are twenty-seven amendments to the constitution. The first ten are the Bill of Rights. Don’t ask me what the others are, except I do know the nineteenth amendment will give women the right to vote.”

  He strode away from her, stood near the water, and rubbed his head. “I don’t believe any of this.”

  “Are you getting a headache?”

  “Yes.”

  She dug into her pocket and pulled out an ibuprofen Pete had given her. “Can you swallow this without water? It will help with your headache.” He swallowed it without asking what he was taking. She reached into her pocket again and this time pulled out a piece of paper. “Look at this.”

  He tilted it to see the page in the dying light.

  “What does the caption say?” she asked.

  “‘The Inauguration of Thomas Jefferson, Property of the Thomas Jefferson Foundation—Founded in 1923 for its dual mission of preservation and education.’ Where’d you get this?”

  “In June, three men from my time came to New York to get me. They believed I was stuck here.”

  “And they wanted to take you back?”

  “Yes, but I wouldn’t go.”