by Ami Diane
“Where did you find it?”
“In the sack of flour.”
His arthritic fingers snatched it from her outstretched hand. A smile spread over his face as he slid it on his finger, back over the crease in his skin. “I’ve been looking everywhere for this.”
“I know.”
He froze, his gaze sliding from the gold band to her face. The color left his skin.
“Everywhere,” she said, “like the diner? And the kitchen?”
His jowls trembled, and he took a step back.
Will sensed the tension in her voice, scooted his chair away from the poker table, and stood.
“El? What’re you saying?”
“I’m saying, Edwin here destroyed both kitchens and the pies.”
The air turned heavy, filled only by the popping of the fire.
Rose’s hand hovered over her mouth. “Edwin, is that true?”
“I-I would never do anything—”
His eyes were filled with fear and regret.
“Edwin, I matched your footprints. You were there both times. I just want to understand why.”
His eyes glistened, and he looked away. When he spoke, his voice broke. “I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. I wasn’t thinking straight. When I lost my wedding band, something came over me. I thought I’d gone mad. It’s the only thing I have that Martha gave me. The only tie I have to her.” He blinked, and his head drooped. “When I couldn’t find it, I panicked. I miss her so much. When you’ve been married as long as I have, and you lose the love of your life like that, something breaks inside you. You’re never quite whole.” His hands covered his face, and his shoulders racked in silent sobs.
No one spoke for a long time. Slowly, Ella rested her hand on his shoulder, glancing between Rose and Wink. Would they press charges?
Rose dabbed at her eyes then folded her hands in her lap. “I understand, Ed. But I wish you had asked for help finding it instead of making a mess and ruining some perfectly good pies.”
Edwin’s head dropped lower. “I know. I’m sorry, Rose.”
“For heaven’s sake,” Flo mumbled. “They were just pies. Nobody died.”
Ella blinked at her.
“I mean,” the old woman added, “he didn’t kill anyone.” She remembered Sarah was in the room. “No offense, dear.”
Rose smiled. “I didn’t think I’d ever say this, but Flo’s right.”
Edwin’s head popped up, a ghost of a smile creeping around his eyes.
“Wink?” Ella said.
The pink-haired woman stared into the fire. Chester sat in her lap, gnawing on his elf ears. “I don’t mind the mess, and it was Evelyn who gave me this goose egg—no offense, Sarah. But I do mind that there are families out there right now whose tables are a little more barren because of you, Ed.” Despite the harsh words, her voice held a softness. “Nevertheless, I think you’ve suffered enough. If anyone understands missing their spouse, it’s me.” She petted Chester’s head before finally looking at Edwin.
“Thank you, Wink.”
“What time did you go over there?” Ella asked suddenly.
“To the diner? Little after midnight, I reckon.”
“Through the back?”After he nodded, she said, “Explains why I didn’t see your footprints.”
“What I’m curious to know,” Will said, “is how you got into the diner.”
Edwin’s cheeks flushed. “I borrowed Flo’s key.”
The older woman’s cheeks turned purple. “You sneaked into my room while I was sleeping?”
“Hey,” Ella said, “think of it this way. You can now say you’ve had a man in your bedroom after dark sometime this century. Also, at least he had the courtesy to use a key and not pick the lock, unlike Evelyn. That’s something.” She turned to Sarah who held up a hand before Ella could say more.
“I know, I know,” the pre-teen said. “No offense.”
Jimmy stretched out his legs and leveled the older man with sharp eyes. “Looks like you’re off the hook, Ed. Maybe you could do some community service to make up for this?”
“Give it a rest, will ya,” Flo huffed. “I want to get back to poker. I was about to clean this one out.” She dipped her sad bouffant towards Will.
Edwin’s shoulders dropped as if a heavy burden had been lifted. “I think I’ll go up to my room now.”
Despite the fact that everyone seemed to forgive him, guilt hung heavy over his countenance as he left the room.
“I should head out,” Sarah said. ”I think Mama will expect a visit. And I want answers.”
Before she left, Rose had Ella pack up food for the girl to take to the sheriff’s office to share with Chapman and Evelyn.
Ella handed over the basket of goods as she opened the front door, feeling very much like Yogi Bear.
“Thanks, Ella,” Sarah said, her eyes red-rimmed and puffy.
Ella wished she could do more. “If you ever need anything, anything at all, come to me. Okay?”
The girl’s chin quivered, and her hand swept at her eyes before the tears could fall. She nodded.
Over Sarah’s head, the overcast sky came alive with a purple haze. Electricity in several hues forked, increasing in frequency until it created a dome. The hair on Ella’s arm stood on end.
“We’re flashing!” she called to the others.
“That’s nice, dear,” Wink called out.
Sarah grunted and shrugged. “Merry Christmas, Ella.”
She sauntered down the steps, hefting the picnic basket of goods in her arms. She struggled through drifts of snow and the recently swathed path that Chapman had created as the electrical storm overhead brewed. What was new to Ella was old hat to these people. What was awe-inspiring, like seeing the Northern Lights for the first time or the miracle of life, was as banal as a change in weather.
Ella hoped that moment never came for her, that a flower never became a garden bed in the background, scenery only glimpsed at rather than soaked in. But she knew that wasn’t how it worked. New becomes old. Rare is appreciated because it’s not ordinary. There would come a time when she, too, would no longer look to the sky.
Then again, maybe not. Sunsets, for her, had yet to lose their beauty.
Ella put her hand up in time as the lines coalesced into a brilliant light that flashed brighter than the brightest day. A brief pain shot through her eyes, giving her a near-instant headache.
Blinking away the spots, she ran, tumbling and slipping, through the snow and doing her best to keep to the path. A gentle breeze blew through her hair with only a slightly marked difference in temperature. No longer a freeze-your-nostril-hairs biting cold, but still cold enough not to melt the snow.
Climbing the berm, she stood atop the world and searched the horizon, trying to get a bead on where they’d jumped. The craggy, possibly-Alps were gone. To the south hung low mountains and cityscape.
A city.
Her hands trembled slightly as she dug out her smartphone. She held up the device, shivering as the wind pierced her thin pajamas, searching for a cell signal.
Hope came crashing down a moment later when she saw she had no bars. With the storm of emotions trickled along another. Relief? The realization of emotion surprised her, but that was a thought she would unpack another time. Not when standing in the street in her Star Wars pajamas and chattering teeth.
Back inside, great commotion came from the parlor. Rose burst into the entrance hall, nearly colliding with Ella, and shouted, “Edwin! Come quick!” She continued to holler for him, hopping on the spot, grinning from ear to ear.
CHAPTER 26
“WHAT’S GOING ON?” Ella asked.
It took a moment for Edwin to hobble to the top of the staircase, and he peered down in complete confusion. “What the devil is wrong?”
Rose gasped for air. “We’re in 1973!”
His thick brows hooded over his eyes. They shot up. He scrambled down the stairs so quickly Ella feared he’d trip.
; “In here,” Rose said, still gasping for breath in excitement.
Ella jogged on their heels as they ran into the parlor. “Rose, you sure about the year?”
Her words were barely audible over the din in the room.
“Positive! Every flash, I check the radio. I had Will put batteries in just now. And, well, listen.”
Ella held her breath and leaned close to the battery-operated tube radio Rose had brought in from the kitchen. The innkeeper hissed for everyone to be quiet.
…Marks the anniversary of the coal sludge spill in West Virginia. One year ago today on February 26, 1972, one hundred and twenty-five people were killed in Buffalo Creek when…
Ella missed the rest as Rose squealed and wrapped Edwin in a tight embrace.
“Four years,” he whispered. “If I leave now, I’ll have only been gone four years. Do you think…?”
“I’m sure Martha hasn’t stopped looking for you,” Wink said.
He spun his wedding band around his finger. “It’s our anniversary, you know.”
“What are you doing?” Will nudged him toward the doorway. “Go pack!”
“Never mind packing,” Jimmy said. “Get outta here as fast as you can before we flash again.”
“He’s right.” Rose pushed the boarder through the hallway. “Don’t risk it. We’ll pack for you and drop your stuff over the line.”
A fire had been lit under Edwin’s feet, and he scurried out of the room. They followed like groupies at a concert. Each step he took had a bounce, and he kept singing, “I’m going home! I get to see my Martha!”
1973, Ella thought, my parents haven’t met yet. They’d be younger than she was right now, out of high school for four years.
Edwin slid to an abrupt halt at the bottom of the stairs. “Wait, how will I get from West Virginia to North Carolina?”
“Does it matter?” Flo said. “You’ll figure it out. But not if you don’t get your behind moving.”
“Money!” Rose blurted out. “Go! We’ll give you money. I’ll pack for you!”
They raced off in different directions, Ella and Rose dashing up the stairs. Glancing over her shoulder, Ella noticed Flo not following.
“What? Don’t give me that look. I don’t have any money to give him.”
Ella beat everyone back to the front door, cash wadded up in her hands. She zipped up her jacket and shoved her feet into her snow boots.
With bulging pockets, Edwin hurried over the snow.
“Get on Betsy,” Wink called and frantically brushed two feet of snow off the vehicle.
After a throaty start, Wink and Edwin raced across the snow and were gone in a cloud of exhaust.
The others jogged down Main Street after them, Jimmy carrying the bag of Edwin’s items that Rose had packed. The group probably looked silly, but Ella didn’t care. Edwin was going home.
By the time they reached the boundary line, Ella was sweating and panting. Only Will had kept up. Jimmy trailed several yards back, staying with his wife. Flo, Ella was pretty sure, had been lost back in the yard at the inn.
Ahead, the snow looked like it had been sheared off, dropping five feet or so to more snow. Edwin stood on the other side, beaming up.
Ella gulped down air, hunched over, breathing like an asthmatic.
Will sounded winded when he asked, “Do you think you can make a trip back with supplies before you catch a bus home?”
“Yes, of course,” Edwin replied. “Don’t risk sending a volunteer. I’ll toss what I can get over the border.”
“We need batteries, bulbs, the usual. You know the drill.”
Edwin’s expression set to steel. “I won’t let you down.”
The innkeepers had caught up. Rose gasped for air as she added to the list. “Medicine. Antibiotics, if you can get them. Sugar. The cane’s not producing as Gladys had hoped.” She continued rattling off more items. Edwin bobbed his head, his eyes transfixed on the horizon.
Ella, Will, Wink, Rose, and Jimmy stood in a line, staring down as they said farewell.
Tilting his head back, Edwin spoke. “I’ll miss you. All of you.” His eyes lingered on Jimmy and Rose. “There are no words for how much you’ve helped me. Given me a family when I had none. Thank you.
“I’ll be back tonight with what supplies I can. If Keystone’s still here, I’ll toss them across the border.”
He swallowed a deep breath, seeming to savor it. He looked over his shoulder at the unknown city, a waiting journey home before him. The sun hung low on the horizon, lighting his eyes with hope, peace, and a range of other emotions.
“See you around.”
Turning on his heel, he shoved his hands in his pockets and strolled towards the skyline. The sound of whistling rolled across the barren landscape as Edwin marched home.
“How about that,” Ella said softly. “He got his Christmas wish.”
It took a couple of days of interrogating Evelyn before Chapman pieced together events. Two days after Christmas, he came into the diner while Ella, Will, and Wink were fixing the windows from Flo’s stun grenade.
Over a thermos of coffee Ella had brought from the inn, he explained how Evelyn and Paul were, in fact, the Tool Belt Bandits—a ridiculous name if he’d ever heard one.
They’d traveled across the country, robbing banks with a handgun and Winchester 73 rifle. When they stumbled into the village, they planned to stay overnight, sleeping in their car to hide from the heat from their most recent robbery in southwest Colorado. The next morning, they awoke and drove out of town, only to find ocean and icebergs surrounding Keystone.
Stranded, they fought about what to do next. They used what they could of the money without drawing suspicion. Meanwhile, Paul worked construction, something he’d picked up from his father before his foray into the banking business.
They had Sarah, and things seemed to be tumbling along smoothly for a little while. Paul was settling into his new line of work, but Evelyn wanted more. And she wanted out of the village. As relationships tended to do under pressure, their marriage turned toxic, and they fought nearly constantly.
Then one day, Paul hid their loot from his wife. Evelyn grew furious, but no matter what she tried, he wouldn’t relinquish the location of the money.
Soon, he was diagnosed with cancer. Growing iller only cemented his bitterness, and he took the money’s location to the grave.
For some time, Evelyn suspected he’d stashed the ill-gotten fortune at one of his work sites. For the past year or so, she’d been working through the various sites around town, searching as best she could without drawing attention. In recent weeks, she’d become more desperate, and the endless snow had been the last straw.
Evelyn stole food as a cover story, in case she ever was found out. All anyone would discover was a poor mother, trying to provide for her daughter.
What she hadn’t accounted for was Erik. The greenhouses were nearly an endless task, only knowing vaguely which houses he’d remodeled after a storm had blown through town.
The Viking had caught her the first night, threatened her with an ax if she came back. She did, bringing along her father’s rifle, the very one she’d used during the bank robberies over a decade before.
Using the ax to cover the bullet had been a stroke of genius, she felt. It wasn’t until the pie bake and Wink mentioning Paul’s construction on the addition to the diner that Evelyn realized he’d even worked on it. That lit a hunger inside the woman, and she wasn’t going to stop until she’d torn the place down to its studs.
Chapman shook his head, sipping the last of his coffee.
Ella studied her cold, untouched brew. “What’s going to happen to Sarah?”
“Neighbors offered to take her in. Seems she spent a lot of time with them, anyway, since her mother wasn’t around much.”
Donning his bowler hat, he brushed the brim and left.
Ella placed the last stone and stood back to admire their work. Several other stones sat a foot, o
r so, away from each other, dotting the clearing. It was certainly shaped like a boat.
A few feet over, Will stretched his back, his hat in his hands in solemn silence. Ella wasn’t sure what came next, so she sidled over and stood between the inventor and Leif, staring at the freshly turned earth in the center of the “boat.”
They’d helped the Viking bury his friend according to their custom, also burying the Norseman’s ax, a musket, and his sword alongside him.
Leif’s lips moved silently. When it seemed he was finished, Ella brushed her fingers across his arm.
“Þú munt hittast aftur í Valhöll.” She knew it wasn’t perfect, an Icelandic butchering mixed with Old Norse, but she hoped the sentiment carried across.
His chin dipped in understanding. He spoke no words, but his eyes carried their gratitude.
Ella slid back beside Will. A moment later, his fingers entangled with hers, sending her arm tingling, as he whispered, “What’d you say?”
It was a moment before she answered. “I told him they would meet again in Valhalla.” Her mouth turned down. “At least I hope that’s what I said.”
The somber silence was broken by crackling electronic static. A tinny voice creaked out from Ella’s jacket.
“Poodle head, you there?”
Ella jumped, her hands clawing through her pockets. Leif whirled around, and she shot him a sheepish grin as she pulled out the walkie-talkie.
“Oops, heh. Forgot to turn this thing off. Pretty rude of me, really.” She motioned at the Viking. “Carry on.”
When she and Will had trekked a ways from the clearing, boots crunching over the snow, she held the device up.
“What do you want, Flo? I’m kind of in the middle of something.”
“What’s got your panties in a wad? Just thought you’d wanna know, Chapman gave us the sled back.”
“Rosebud’s back?”
“Yep.”
Will’s mouth turned into a thin, disapproving line. “Gave it back or she took it back?”
“Which do you think?” Ella mashed her thumb on the button and spoke into the device. “Maybe that’s not such a good idea, Flo. Remember what happened last time?”
