by Joanna Bell
"OK," Emma says, her face white. "OK, Paige. I think I believe you. I think – oh my God. I think I'm going to faint."
My dad and I help Emma to the ground. "I didn't bring you hear to scare you," I tell her, brushing a stray lock of hair off her damp forehead. "I brought you here because I'm staying. I think my dad is staying, too. And I don't want you to worry about me anymore, or think something terrible has happened to me."
She looks down at the ground, and I don't realize she's crying until I hear her breath catching in her throat. "You're staying!?" She wails, dismayed. "Paige – what are you talking about? What about college? What about – your life?"
I sit down beside my friend, being careful not to jostle Eirik and wake him again, and put my arm around her shoulders. "What kind of life am I going to have in 2017, Em? You saw those reporters outside the house, you've read all the stories online. And now you've seen this place you must know that I'll never be able to answer all the questions adequately, no one will ever be satisfied. Eirik would have to grow up with those questions hanging over his head, with all his classmates knowing the story." I pause. Emma seems to be listening. "He'd have to grow up without a father," I continue. "He'd have to –"
"So he's here, then?" She asks, sniffling. "Eirik's father is here? That's why you couldn't tell anyone?"
"I think he's here," I reply softly. "I hope he's here. You know they found me in that pharmacy, right? Remember that? I was there trying to steal antibiotics for Eirik's father – he was wounded in a battle and –"
"Oh God," Emma says again, putting her head in her hands. "A battle, Paige? Eirik's father was wounded in a battle? I must be dreaming this. I must be."
My dad, meanwhile, is sitting on the other side of Emma, offering what little comfort he can in the midst of his own shock and listening to everything I'm saying. "That's why you needed medicine?" He asks. "Because someone, uh, someone here was sick? You were going to bring it back?"
I nod. "Yes, Eirik's dad was sick – very sick. I don't know if he's alive or dead now."
"And will he be with these people we're going to give the food to? Willa and Ed – uh, Eadgar?"
I shake my head. "No. We'll have to go a little farther to find him, if we can. But I just – I want you two to listen to me. Emma, I needed you to see this place because I need you to know I'm safe. I choose to be here. I don't want you going through life thinking something terrible has happened to me, OK?"
Emma is crying openly now. "So this is it?" She asks, taking a shaky breath. "This is it, Paige? I'm never going to see you again?!"
I hold her for a few minutes before speaking again. "What would you do?" I whisper. "Emma, what would you do? If you had a baby and a maybe even a man you loved – in one place? And in the other, people you loved, yes – friends, yes, but also the things I have in 2017 – the media, the story, the attention. I brought you here so you won't worry but also, well, it wasn't just that..."
"What was it then?" Emma cries, clinging to me.
"I don't even think I realized this until right now," I tell her. "But I think I wanted you to know how to get here. Just in case you ever needed to. In case you needed to see me for some reason and it was –"
"What?" Emma laughs, but she doesn't sound happy. "So this is going to be like you're just in the next town over? Like I'll come and visit you for tea and, I don't know, guts-pie, every weekend?"
"Guts-pie?" I ask. "What's that?"
"I thought that's what people in the past ate," Emma says. "You know, guts."
The moment is serious, I know that. Maybe it's because it's so serious that I throw my head back and laugh out loud. "Guts-pie?!" I giggle. "Oh my God, Emma. They don't eat guts! Well, I guess they do eat more parts of the animal than we would, but –"
She looks up at me, smiling sadly. "See? Guts-pie. I don't want to eat guts-pie, Paige."
"I know you don't," I tell her. "And no, I don't mean you'll come and visit me every weekend. For one thing, I don't think I'll be too close to this place – to this tree – and this is the only way to get back and forth between 2017 and... here. But also because I spent years going back and forth as a child and I know it doesn't really work to live in two places during one life. It just means living half a life in two places, rather than a full life in one. I don't want that for you. I don't want it for myself, or my son, or my dad."
"But you've picked this place, haven't you?" Emma says, and I can tell from her voice that she already knows the answer to her question. "You've picked this place, and now we'll be so far away from each other."
"We will," I agree, my heart aching because I know this is goodbye. "But you'll have a good life, Emma. A full life. Everyone loves you. You're smart and funny and beautiful and you charm the pants off everyone you meet. You have a family that loves you, so many friends. And one day you'll probably have children of your own, with someone you love. And then you'll understand why I'm doing what I'm doing."
"I already understand," Emma smiles sadly. "I do, I get it. I'm just. I'm – I'm going to miss you, Paige."
We hold onto each other, crying, and neither of us wants to let go.
***
Just before Emma leaves, after I've explained in detail how to use the tree to get between one world and the next – the fact that there needs to be skin contact, that anything brought along needs to be touching your body – we're standing together like two condemned women, knowing this is the moment of parting, not wanting to acknowledge it. I hug my friend one more time, both of us sobbing, and then stand back, leaning against my dad, as she kneels down to touch one of the tree's roots.
"Wait!" I shout, at the very last second. "Wait! Emma! Wait! We should – um, we should have some kind of a signal. Something we can leave at the tree – in this world or in 2017 – so if one of us happens to be in the woods in our world, and we see the signal, we know the other needs to get in contact."
"Yes," Emma says. "Yes, yes, that's a good idea. What should we use – should we mark the trees somehow or –"
"I don't want to mark the trees," I reply immediately. "I obviously don't know how any of this actually works but I think we should leave the trees alone."
"OK. How about an object then? Something that could only be from our – uh, our respective places."
I reach into one of the bags and pull out a can of strawberry flavored meal replacement drink and hand it to her. "Here. Leave this. Right, uh – right here –" I point to a place off the path, under the bushes. "No, wait. The pigs will get it. How about a branch? Tie it to one of the branches. How about this one? It's out of the way so no one walking by will see it, but I'll know to check it. And I'll know if it's there that you left it, because no one else here has canned strawberry drink."
"And what about you?" Emma asks. "What can you leave?"
I wrack my brain for a minute. "A pot! Like, a clay pot or a bowl. That's what they use here, and they're everywhere, even the villagers have them. I'll leave it near the tree, against one of the roots. So you'll know, if you see it, that –"
"That you left it. That you need to see me."
"Yes."
Emma looks up at my dad. The moment of parting is upon us, I feel it. "Goodbye, Mr. Renner," she says. Then she looks at me. "Goodbye, Paige. Take care of yourself. Take care of each other. I won't ever mention this place to anyone. And I won't ever forget you. Even if –" her voice breaks.
"You don't know the future," I tell her gently. "Neither do I. We're saying goodbye for now, aren't we? That's all we can say, because we don't know what will happen."
She nods. "Yes. You're right. So it's goodbye for now. Goodbye for now, Paige."
"Good –"
Like a phone call ended before one person has managed to get the entirety of their final goodbye out, my father and I are suddenly, brutally alone in the woods. The place where Emma was is now just the leaf-covered ground, the tree root she laid her hand on. I turn to my father and he holds me.
Chapte
r 31
9th Century
We – my dad and I – bring the sacks of food and supplies to Willa, who we find ensconced in a little hut just like the ones that used to stand in the first version of Caistley, before it burned down. I ignore her questions about where the items have come from – the cans of meal replacement drink and the plastic containers of vitamins are clearly not of the world we are in. And because there has always been that unspoken understanding between us that 'the estate' is something much more than an actual estate, she doesn't keep asking them. She knows I mean it and she believes me, she trusts me when I say I brought these things for her and her brother, her husband and her children. I show her how to pull the vitamin capsules apart, explain that the powder should be mixed into food, not too much, that after another summer has passed they won't be of any use anymore.
There's so much to explain. At some point during the explaining I begin to wonder if I haven't brought half of these things in order to spare myself the awkward conversation I fear is coming – the one where Willa and Eadgar ask me why it is I'm leaving them again, to go and live with the people who destroyed their village.
But Willa doesn't need to ask why I'm doing what I'm doing. She knows. So does Eadgar. I'm doing what I'm doing because I have a child, and because I'm in love with his father.
Before we leave, Willa kisses my cheek and ignores the toddler tugging at the bottom of her tunic. "And if he's not there," she says, "the Northman – you'll come back here, won't you Paige?"
I nod, looking at her and Eadgar. "Yes, I will."
***
When my dad and I have made it back to the beach, and I've managed to get my emotions under control, we approach the point where the path leads back into the woods – and back to the tree that could take us back to 2017. I stop when we get to it. To our right, the sea crashes against the rocks as a high wind begins to pick up.
"There it is," I say to my dad, pointing to the path. "That's the way back to the tree. I told Emma you were probably going to stay with me but –"
I stop talking, because if I try to speak even one more word I'm going to break. My dad puts his arm around me and leans down to kiss the top of Eirik's head. My son is asleep again after having his dinner while I explained how to use the pull-tabs on the meal replacement cans to Willa.
I wait for my father to speak, to say something. But he doesn't, not right away. Instead he just keeps walking, his arm slung around my shoulders, right on past the entrance to the path.
"Is this the right direction?" He asks a few minutes later. "North, right? You said we had to head north?"
"So you're – you're – dad, you're –" I say, but I'm barely coherent.
"Yes, Paige," he replies. "I'm staying."
I have questions, I need reassurances, but nothing I'm trying to say is coming out properly because today has been filled with too many goodbyes and I'm terrified my dad, even if he says otherwise right now, is going to come to his senses soon enough. And if he does that, then I'll have another goodbye to add to the list – my own father, my baby son's grandfather. I don't know, if it comes down to that, if I can do it.
My dad looks north, following the coastline with his gaze, and then out over the waves. "If this is a dream," he says, "it's the most realistic dream I've ever had. I can smell the saltwater, I can feel the warmth of the sun on my face."
"It's not a dream," I say, wiping my red, tired eyes one more time.
"As I said," he replies. "I don't think it is. But if it's not a dream – what is it? We could be anywhere right now – the United States, Europe – anywhere. And as for the time, well, how do I know what time it is here? Your friends wore strange clothing, they spoke oddly, but none of this really proves we're not in 2017 anymore, does it?"
I know he's not saying any of this to doubt me or to 'prove' me wrong – he's saying it because, as Emma said, what I claim is happening is technically impossible. And I certainly don't have a technical response to the question of how it is possible.
"I can't tell you why," I tell my dad. "I can't tell you how, either. I can't explain what is, I can just tell you what is. This isn't 2017. It's not the United States. It's the Kingdom of the East Angles, and it's sometime between the years 860 and 880 A.D. – as far as I've been able to work out, anyway. I read up on this place when I was a kid, when it started sinking in that Caistley wasn't the kind of place I was going to be able to find on Google maps."
"The Kingdom of the East Angles? So – England?"
"Well, yes. But 'England' doesn't exist yet – not in the way we think of it, not as one country."
A gentle gust of wind comes in off the sea and it is as I remember it since childhood at this time of year – warm, salt-laced and seemingly infused with the sunshine that only deigns to fall over this part of the world for any extended length of time during the summer. It's September now, and the days are as ripe and sweet with the summer as the fat, dark berries – the ones that look a little like blackberries – on the bushes.
"I was 5 when I came here for the first time," I say, picking a few of those berries, popping half of them in my mouth and then handing the rest to my dad. "When you're 5, you still believe in Santa Claus. I did, anyway. I'd also just lost my mother. What I mean is that 'impossible' things seemed very possible at that age – probable, even. And I didn't even understand the whole story, then. How could I? I didn't know I was going back in time. For a few years I just thought that there were some place near River Forks where they had very different hygiene standards, and a lack of grocery stores."
My dad chews the berries and looks surprised. "These are delicious. These are – these are the tastiest berries I've ever eaten."
I chuckle. "Yeah, that's one thing about this place. There's not as much food as there is at home – not even close – but what there is tastes a lot better."
Eirik stirs and squawks. He's going to need to be fed again very soon. My dad and I are still standing on the beach, talking. Not heading north. I look at him as he looks down at my son.
"So you'll stay?"
"Of course I'll stay," he replies, as if it's the most obvious answer in the world. "It might have been good for you to warn me that –"
"You would never have come, then!" I interrupt. "You wouldn't have come down to the tree, you would have thought I really was crazy. It's OK, I don't blame you – but it had to be this way."
My father catches my eye, smiling. "I suppose you're right about that. And listen, Paige, it's like I said. I still don't know I'm not dreaming. Part of me still expects to wake up in bed in a few seconds. But it also doesn't matter. If it's a dream, I'm staying with you and Eirik. If it's not a dream, I'm staying with you and Eirik. We need to stick together – it really is the only thing that matters."
We begin to walk north again, after I breastfeed the baby, and I'm trying to calculate in my head how long it's going to take. It took between two and three days to get south to Caistley from the Viking camp. So – three days? Probably two? We can move faster without Willa's small children in tow.
At one point I reach into the small amount of supplies I've kept for my dad and I and take out two tuna sandwiches, handing one to him.
"Mmm," he says approvingly. "This is great. I'm actually really hungry."
I smile. "Yeah, that's another thing about this place. You actually have time to get properly hungry. I don't know why a tuna sandwich tastes nicer after walking, after genuinely being hungry, but it really does."
"What are you going to do," my dad asks as we continue, "if there's not enough? Food, I mean? You said earlier that although it tastes better here, there's not as much. And you're eating for two right now, Paige. What if –"
I swallow a mouthful of tuna sandwich. "It's not like that, Dad. Not for – uh, not for me, anyway. Eirik's father is the Jarl, the leader of the Vikings. He and his family will always have enough to –" I stop talking abruptly when I see the look of pure bewilderment on my dad's face.
&
nbsp; "Vikings?" He says, shaking his head as if he's certain he hasn't heard me right. "Paige, did you just – did you say Vikings?!"
I smile, mostly at myself – because I really should have anticipated this reaction – and nod. "Um, yeah. Vikings. That's another reason I've been able to pin down what time period this actually –"
"VIKINGS?!"
I nod again as my dad gives me a look of straight skepticism. "And you better get used to the idea, Dad, because they're going to think you're strange if you react this way when you meet them."
We walk on in silence, tracing the edge of a small bay with our steps as the sun sinks low in the sky and illuminates everything with a golden light.
"We're going to have to find somewhere to sleep soon," I say. But my dad is not thinking about where we're going to sleep.
"So this – this Viking – the King, is he? He's Eirik's –"
"Not King," I reply. "Jarl. It's their word for leader. Eirik is the Jarl."
"The baby's father is the Viking leader, then?"
I nod. "Of this group of Vikings, anyway. Other groups have other Jarls, there isn't one centralized leader for everyone."
"And how did you come to meet this 'Jarl?'"
To our left, at the top of the beach, sand dunes dotted with clumps of grass stretch inland. The sand itself is fine, soft. We could sleep here, out in the open where hopefully the animals that lurk in the woods at night might be less willing to approach?
"Paige?"
"Oh," I respond. "Yeah, sorry. It's just that I think we should stop here for the night. If we keep going the beach might get rocky and I don't want anyone to fall over a rock in the dark and sprain their ankle. That's something we don't –"
"Are you avoiding my question?"
"No," I reply, pulling the one blanket I kept for us out of the bag, thinking to myself that that is actually exactly what I'm doing. How do you tell your own father that the man you love began the relationship by kidnapping you? The Vikings kidnapped a lot of other people that day, too, but somehow I don't think it's going to matter. "We should get some sleep. We can talk about it in the morning if you want."
