The Pearl Brooch

by Logan, Katherine Lowry

  “Why?” he asked. “If you’re from another time as you claim, why didn’t you go?”

  His indifference was painful.

  “Because I love you and plan to marry you.”

  “I saw you sitting on your quilt in Bowling Green Park one afternoon. A man was sitting with you. I didn’t know him, and you never mentioned him. I thought it was odd, but we were both so busy it slipped my mind.”

  Telling him about Pete was pointless and would add more confusion, not clarity. “The first time I met Mr. MacKlenna, he told me I was here because you’re my soul mate. I believed him. It’s why I didn’t leave.”

  “Do you still?”

  “I love you, Thomas. And I want to marry you. I came from over two hundred years from now. A lot has changed during those years. Virginia has over two hundred wineries. A drug called penicillin was invented that cures infections. Clean water, sanitation, and hygiene can eliminate millions of deaths from diseases every year.”

  “You’re serious.”

  “I am. Bloodletting is dangerous, and it kills people. It’s an insane practice. Don’t ever let anyone do it to you. They’ll do it to George Washington, and it will hasten his death.”

  He glanced up at the moon, and his profile thrilled her as an artist and as a woman, just as much as it had the first moment she saw him.

  “If I ask you what will happen tomorrow, will you know?”

  “Probably not, unless it’s an important day in your life worth marking for historians.” She sat down on the bank and watched him. His face was losing its tension. His curiosity was winning over his doubt.

  “In Paris you knew what would happen the night Lafayette came to dinner. You knew what would happen the night I met with Madison and Hamilton. You knew we would reach an agreement.”

  She nodded.

  He made a sharp turn and faced her. “You know the day I’ll die.”

  It was a rhetorical question.

  He trotted back up the bank and paced some more, then stopped abruptly. “Sophia, I couldn’t face a day knowing you have all the answers. I don’t want to know why I decide to run for president. You’ll take away the wonder, the worry, the stress. What’s left for me to do?”

  He paced again, stopped, and faced her. “What happens to Alexander Hamilton?”

  “That’s an odd thing to ask,” she said.

  It was as if his mind was racing through so many questions, he just tossed one out to see where it would go. She pulled her knees up and wrapped her arms around her legs.

  “I can’t tell you. Once it gets in your head, you’ll never forget it. There is one thing, though,” she added, “and this applies to both you and Hamilton. There is a journalist named James T. Callender who will not be a friend to either of you. There’s an old saying, ‘Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer.’ He’s one of those you should keep as close as you can, or he’ll cause you a great deal of trouble.”

  “Callender? I’ll keep it in mind.”

  “There’s one more thing, and this is very important. Stay true to your friendship with John and Abigail Adams. Even if you strongly, vehemently disagree with each other, always and forever remain friends. It’s not worth losing them over political differences. The country will survive your differences, and, in fact, will survive a lot more than Adams and Jefferson disagreements. But the loss of friendship leaves a forever hole.”

  Thomas pulled her to her feet. “Sophia, I love you, but I can’t live with knowing you already know everything that will happen to me and to this country. I would never need to make another decision. All I’d have to do is ask you what happens next. You know the day I’ll die. Every morning I would wake up and wonder, is it today? Is this my last day on earth? I wouldn’t have to wonder. I could ask you, ‘Am I going to die today?’ Who in their right mind would want that? I don’t.”

  “What are you saying? You don’t want me now because I know your future?”

  He pulled her into his arms and kissed the top of her head. His arms were tense, his breathing heavy. “Would you want me if I knew the day you would die?”

  Prickling sensations surrounded her eyeballs until tears poured out in a flood of sorrow and anguish and other emotions she couldn’t identify. “I wouldn’t care. It wouldn’t matter. It would save us a lot of trouble. We could spend my last day on earth doing the things we love. And I could die in your arms.”

  “I don’t want to know the day you die, or the day I’ll die.”

  The knot of pain in her chest was excruciating. “Then I won’t tell you.”

  “But I’ll see it in your eyes. You’ll be grieving my death before it arrives.”

  “No, I won’t. I promise.”

  He held her at arm’s length. “You couldn’t keep that promise.”

  She didn’t know about his heart, but hers was shattering into a thousand pieces. “I can try.”

  “My dearest Sophia.” He pulled her in for another hug. “You have brought such joy to my life. I will never forget you.”

  She wept on his jacket. “I can’t leave you. Please don’t send me away.”

  “I’ll miss you always, but you must return to where you belong.”

  “I belong here with you.”

  “No you don’t. Not now.”

  “We just need more time to talk about this. We can work it out. It doesn’t have to end.”

  Mr. MacKlenna appeared at her side. “Come, lass. It’s time for ye to go.”

  “I won’t go. I won’t leave him.” She grabbed Thomas’s arm. The pain in her chest was thundering like an approaching freight train heading toward a cataclysmic explosion, just like in the movies. Boom!

  “Sophia,” Mr. MacKlenna pulled her hand off Thomas and said sternly, “Ye’re not supposed to be here. Ye must go home.” He unpinned her brooch and opened the pearl. “Speak the words, lass, and return to yer time.” He kissed her cheek. “Be brave, Sophia. Now, go.”

  Crying too hard to speak, she could only gasp, “I love you.”

  When she didn’t move, they walked away from her.

  “Thomas, wait! Tell the girls…” Tears poured down her face, her mouth opened in a silent scream. How could this be happening? “Tell them…I love them. Tell them how much I was looking forward…to our reunion. Tell them… Oh, God, don’t do this. Please.”

  “I’ll tell them, Sophia. I’ll tell them everything.”

  “Tell them how much I treasured every letter, every drawing they sent me.”

  “I’ll tell…them.”

  “Tell them I wanted to be a grandmother to their children.”

  Thomas was so choked up he could barely speak. He took a step toward her, but Mr. Digby held him back. “I…will…tell them.”

  “Tell Polly not to stop painting. To find another teacher.”

  Thomas wiped tears away with the heels of his hands. “Sophia, I love you.” He made a move toward her again, but both Mr. MacKlenna and Mr. Digby held him back.

  They left her standing alone on the bank of the James River, silhouetted by the moon.

  Then came deep baritone voices chanting in Gaelic: “Chan ann le tìm no àite a bhios sinn a’ tomhais an’ gaol ach ’s ann le neart anama.”

  45

  Mallory Plantation—Jack

  The entire MacKlenna Clan was waiting patiently around the willow oak when Jack, Matt, and Pete came through the fog. There was a collective gasp when Sophia’s absence was noticed.

  Robbie elbowed his way through the adults to stand in front of Pete. “Where’s the girl?”

  Henry followed him. “Yeah. You’re supposed to get the girl. What happened?”

  Pete tousled Henry’s hair, causing a minor crisis. “The girl didn’t want to come home.”

  Henry turned to face Robbie. “Stand still so I can fix my hair.” He used his brother as a mirror to repair his spikes, but Robbie’s barely-contained laugh almost ruined their comic routine.

  Satisfied the damage was fixed, Henry
turned back to Pete. “You wore the wrong outfit. If you’d worn Viking clothes you could have stolen her.”

  Robbie bumped Henry’s shoulder. “You don’t steal people, stupid. You kidnap them.”

  Henry put his face right smack in front of Robbie’s. “Hey. Who you calling stupid?”

  “Sorry, bro. I didn’t mean it.”

  Henry turned back to Pete. “That’s what you should have done. Kidnapped her. Get the right clothes and try again.”

  “Uncle Pete,” Blane said. “Viking clothes might be wet like the ones you’re wearing. They were sailors. Next time wear cowboy clothes. Cowboys always get the girl. Just ask Uncle Rick. Come on Robbie, let’s go play soccer.”

  Robbie put his arm around Blane’s shoulders. “I’m glad we didn’t go on such a dud mission, aren’t you?”

  Blane dropped the soccer ball he was holding and kicked it. “Yeah. I don’t like to wear wet, smelly clothes, ’xcept when I play soccer.”

  They all ran off, chasing the ball.

  Amy put her arms around Jack and kissed him lightly. “Where did you go? Paris or New York?”

  “We arrived in New York City in June 1790 and found Sophia within two hours.”

  “You’ve only been gone”—Meredith looked at her watch—“two minutes. How long were you in the past?”

  “About twenty-four hours,” Jack said.

  “Well, great. So you found her after she fell in love with Jefferson. So what happened when she saw you?” JL asked.

  Matt slapped Jack on the back. “We spent the afternoon with Alexander Hamilton, talking about his financial plan and how he could reach a compromise with James Madison and Thomas Jefferson.”

  “Two Virginians and an immigrant. Isn’t that a line from the musical?” Braham asked.

  Charlotte winked at him.

  “It was the most phenomenal afternoon,” Matt said.

  JL put her hands on her hips and glared at him. “We don’t give a damn about Hamilton. We want to know about Sophia. What happened to her?”

  “You don’t have to be mean,” Kevin said, wrapping his arms around JL.

  “Sorry,” she said. “But we’ve been sitting here waiting for you to bring her home.”

  Pete’s nostrils flared. “What? All of two minutes. What an inconvenience.”

  “Why’d you let her get away—again?” JL’s mouth twitched as if she was struggling to hold back tears.

  Jack pointed his finger at her. “Get off his back, JL. Pete didn’t let her do anything. Sophia made her decision without our influence.”

  “Why would anyone want to live in 1790? It doesn’t make any sense.”

  Kevin whispered in her ear. She looked up at him and nodded. Then she stepped out of his embrace and eased into the nearest Adirondack chair. “Tell us what happened,” she asked in a much calmer voice.

  David and Braham rearranged the rest of the chairs, letting the women sit in a semicircle in front of the time-travelers. David gestured toward the grassy area in front of the chair. “Pete, you have the floor.”

  “Sophia met James MacKlenna and Seamus Digby here at Mallory Plantation. MacKlenna told her the brooches carry people to their soul mates, and that Thomas Jefferson was hers.”

  “Who is Mr. MacKlenna? I mean how is he related to me?” Kit asked.

  “If it was 1790, then James MacKlenna would have been your great-grandfather,” Meredith said. “He started MacKlenna Farm, then returned to Scotland, where he died. His son James, Sean and Jamilyn’s father, came over and ran the operation.”

  “The son was my grandfather. We were at his bedside when he died at MacKlenna Farm,” Kit said.

  “So how did MacKlenna know Jefferson was Sophia’s soul mate?” Kenzie asked. “Did he just pick an eighteenth-century single Founding Father out of the air and said, ‘This man is the love of your life?’ Because it sounds insane. We all know Pete’s her soul mate.”

  Pete grabbed a beer from a cooler and took a long drink. “Jefferson is, not me. Sophia told me she was going to marry him.”

  “How do you know she wasn’t forced to say it?” JL asked.

  “Come on, JL. I’m a cop, remember? She wasn’t under duress. We spent the afternoon at the beach talking and finding closure.”

  JL came up out of her chair, slowly, but she made her point. “What the hell? You’ve mourned her loss for twenty years. Damn it! You have one afternoon together and find closure. Come on. You can’t bullshit a bullshitter, Parrino. I know you, and I know you couldn’t have walked away…unless…” JL took a deep breath and blew it out, then returned to her seat and crossed her arms.

  “Finish it. Go on. Finish what you were going to say.”

  “Unless she told you she was in love with someone else and it was over between you two. Like over…forever.”

  Pete took another long pull on his beer. “That’s what she said. Then we reached a place where we could both move on.”

  JL shook her head. “If you can do that, I’ll be happy for you.”

  “I’m good. This is the end of it. Now, I’m going over to Charlotte’s, change my clothes, and when I come back, I’m getting stinking drunk.” He grabbed another beer, dodged the children, and hurriedly left the backyard.

  Connor snagged a couple of beers from the cooler. “I’m going with him. I saw him like this a few times when he came back from Afghanistan. He’s about to break down. He shouldn’t be alone. If he’s in a mood to talk, we’ll talk. If not, we’ll just sit on the porch and drink beer.” Connor hustled after Pete, and they disappeared through the tree line.

  “We all need to give him some space.” Jack reached for Amy’s hand. “I’m going inside to change. Walk with me.”

  Amy circled her arm around him. “Are you okay?”

  “I wish it had worked out differently for Pete. Sophia is amazing. She’s got a piece of all of you. Kit’s spunk, Meredith’s business acumen, Kenzie’s perception, Charlotte’s singular focus, your natural ease with people, Amber’s ability to turn society on its ears and still be adored, and Olivia’s prissiness.”

  “Well, I’m glad to know what you think of us gals.”

  Jack kissed her. “I adore each of you.”

  “I think you fell in love. Should I be jealous of a woman who’s been dead two hundred years?”

  “She could walk into the backyard right this minute, and you’d know instantly you had a new BFF. She’s that kind of gal.”

  “I’m sorry I won’t meet her, then. We could all use another good friend.”

  Jack snugged his arm around her waist and together they walked toward the house. “There was something else going on, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. Once I settle down to write my report, it’ll come to me. It hasn’t all clicked into place yet. Something was missing. I might have noticed it if Matt and I hadn’t been so absorbed with Alexander Hamilton. We have enough material for a book or a screenplay.”

  “You’re going to write a play? Very impressive. Do you think you’ll open on Broadway?” Amy laughed. “I wouldn’t put it past you, Mallory.” She kissed him, and he rubbed her baby bump. “I’m going back to chat with the girls while you change. The kids have been waiting for you so the family can have a real baseball game.”

  “They don’t have to wait for me. Austin can play with them.”

  “Yes, they do have to wait. And you know you love it.”

  He kissed her nose. “Where’s my glove?”

  “Patrick has it. Hurry up.”

  “Okay, but I don’t want you near the field.”

  “I’m near the field four times a week.”

  “Yeah, but you’re in the press box. Not down there where men get hit in the head and other painful places.” He patted her ass as she turned and went in the opposite direction.

  Jack kicked off his shoes when he entered the house and stopped at the kitchen. The breeze from the punkah ceiling fan blew on his sticky neck, cooling him off. Could he stand there long enough to miss
the game? Nope. Wasn’t possible. The kids would track him down, and if he wasn’t there, Amy might step in. If she got hit by a ball, he’d never forgive himself.

  He scrounged around the kitchen. “There’s no tea? Come on.” He checked the pantry. It was his own fault. He made the most recent trip to the grocery store.

  Instead of tea, he poured a cup of coffee and sipped the dark brew while wandering through the house. A child’s cry stopped him in his tracks. He went immediately to the dining room and looked out the window to see who was crying. It wasn’t a blood-curling scream, so nobody was bleeding or dying. Charlotte was already there with a Band-Aid and a sucker, always a crowd-pleaser, and the crying stopped immediately.

  From what he could see, it was a McBain girl twin. Three years old and Jack still couldn’t tell them apart. He remained standing at the window, waiting to see who would cry next. When one Ninja got a Band-Aid, another soon suffered a minor injury.

  Looking out over the crowd of people—of family—he wondered how he got to be so blessed. There were two dozen people out there who had stuck with him during his jackass days and waited for him to grow up. Now he had a fantastic wife, two kids, and another one on the way. He was one lucky son of a bitch.

  As he stood there watching the action out on the lawn, he caught a flash of light from his periphery. He jerked. “What the hell?”

  He scanned the floor, the ceiling, to his right, to his left. Nothing. He knew something significant just happened. He closed his eyes, relaxed, and fell into another trance. He saw a man wearing a leather apron making repairs to the window. Jack opened his eyes and skimmed his hands over the glass. He reached Amy’s initials and traced them with his fingertip then moved to Sophia’s—

  But they weren’t there.

  “Damn it.”

  He rushed into his office, climbed the library ladder, opened the glass door, and pulled down the first General Mallory’s daily journal. Jack carried the large ledger book to his desk, pushed papers and books aside, and opened the frayed cover.

  He couldn’t read the small, slanted script without his glasses. Where were they? He moved papers. Nothing. He checked his jacket hanging on the coat rack. Nothing. He stomped back to his desk and found them next to his computer.