“Uh, no, I just got married last week. Maybe Mom will let me help her so I can get used to babies gradually. I never had a little brother or sister before.”
Leah was already enjoying her big sister role. She looked up and saw the men—Julian and the man who must be Wallace—watching their little repartee with unbridled delight. They sat down on the porch steps, a few feet awayfrom her. She caught Wallace’s eye and said, “So you’re my father then?”
Wallace gulped hard, shifted his eyes to me, and said, “Guilty as charged.”
James corrected him, “With Leah that would be blessed beyond your grandest expectations. And I’m your son-in-law, James Melbourne.”
“Melbourne?” the two men gasped in unison.
“Lord James Ignatius Melbourne, at your service,” he said with a nod.
Wallace blanched at the name, and then looked over at his father, Julian. He was just as shocked as Wallace, and had spilled his cup of water in his lap, belatedly jumping up as the fluid soaked into the front of his pants.
“Excuse me for not rising,” James said, “but I’m a little worse for the wear and tear of the trip and all the excitement we encountered therein. Perhaps you know of my kin, Anthony Melbourne of London?”
Both men looked as if they were the ones who had just donated blood. They were pale, all the way down to their hands which, he noticed, had gone limp at their sides with shock. James savored the surprised look on the men’s faces. Uncle Julian in the flesh. Finally.
He continued, “You do know about the long distance we traveled, correct? That would be the same distance traveled as your wife did,” he said, nodding to Wallace, “and your daughter-in-law,” he nodded to Julian, “plus about one more year…um…shall we call it a measure?”
Both men were still staring, but managed to add a synchronized slow nod of understanding to their voiceless affirmation. They understood that he and Leah had just traveled from the future to be with them here in the late 18th century.
James reached into his pocket and pulled out his hemp wallet. “Julian, would you come here for a moment, please?”
Julian set his empty cup on the porch and walked the few steps to James. “Here.” James put a laminated color photograph in his hand, “This reproduction of a portrait has been in my family for years. I never met the man—until today—but he has always been my favorite uncle.”
Julian studied the photograph of the oil portrait he had sat for ten years earlier. He looked at James, then back at the photo, running the heavy plastic laminate between his thumb and forefinger, in awe of the material. He collected his wits, and replied with a wry smile, “I still don’t think the man got my nose right. I don’t have a bend in it like that, I’m sure.” He rubbed the bridge of his nose with one hand and gave the photo back to James. “I hope I can live up to your expectations,” he said, now totally composed and added with a smile, “nephew.”
James took the photo, then motioned for Wallace to come look at it, too. Wallace had been eyeing their little exchange and was only slightly hesitant to look at the object of interest. He inspected the picture, glanced up at his father, then back at the representation.
“I agree and disagree,” he said, then waited to make sure he had the men’s attention. “Yes, I agree the nose is not a true representation of your appearance. I remember when you sat for this. Monsieur Lévesque added the bump to your nose. When I told him that you had a very nice, straight nose, he said that all good men had a bend in the nose, to portray you otherwise would be dishonoring you for eternity. However, I disagree on the other part. James is not only your nephew; he is my son, and therefore your grandson. Welcome to the family.” Wallace bent over and shook James’s hand heartily, then laughed softly, “son.”
“Now, let me get this right about names. You’re…” James wanted to make sure he didn’t make a fool of himself by assuming a name. With so many stepchildren and adoptions, he almost needed a genealogical chart to get everyone’s name straight.
“Wallace Joseph Pomeroy-Hart. I gave up my birth name and the hereditary title to stay here with my real family. The last name is to reflect my two fathers, Joseph—that would be Jody—Pomeroy and Julian Hart.”
“And you probably know me better than I would feel comfortable with. I’m Julian Wallace Hart, but I don’t live here. Our place is a few miles down the road. We passed it on the way here, but the buildings are amongst the trees and are well-hidden.”
“Our?” James asked. “Are you married? I never read…er…rather, nothing was ever recorded… Oh, shit…”
“No, I am not married. I have a partner and we raise Andalusian horses and Angora goats. I never remarried after my wife died, God rest her soul.”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean… Oh, excuse me. I think I’ll just shut up. I seem to be suffering from brain loss on top of blood loss.”
Leah patted his hand, trying to reassure him that all was well, then shut her eyes again, softly ‘hmm-ing’ in peace.
The men all endured an awkward silence until Jenny came over to sit on Wallace’s long-legged lap. She snuggled under her father’s chin, and tickled him with a piece of grass. Leah looked up. She could only wonder when she had been adopted. She appeared to be about ten, and normally would have been too old for lap-sitting, but seemed to have the emotional age of a six-year-old.
“What’s for dinner?” Jenny asked.
Wallace quickly snatched the grass from her and used it to return the tickles, making her squirm and giggle. “Whatever you’re fixing,” he said, and poked her in the ribs. “Isn’t it your turn to cook?” he teased.
“Well, we could have tomato pie—that is, if we had the pie crust. Or we could have smashed tomatoes or tomato soup or…”
“Spaghetti?” Leah suggested. “Do you have any noodles, onions, and a few spices?”
“What’s s’ghetti?”
I popped in, “That’s a dish your sister is a master chef at creating. Yes, Leah, we have all the ingredients, although you’ll have to make the pasta from scratch. Jenny, go get the big bowl and the smasher.”
Jenny dashed into the house. After a minute of clanging and clashing, she returned with a huge bowl and a heavy wooden mallet with crosshatch grooves carved into the top of the head, ‘the smasher.’
“Can Jenny cut up onions or should I do that?” Leah asked.
“I can do it! I can do it!” Jenny exclaimed, as she ran back into the house for the knife and onion.
“Don’t run with the knife, dear,” I called after her. Sometimes she was too eager!
So Jenny washed, cored, peeled, and smashed the tomatoes, and was allowed to chop onions under Leah’s supervision. Wallace brought out two big iron pots and proceeded to set the outside kitchen fire ablaze. Nobody wanted to cook inside at the hearth in the summer. It was either dine on salad or sandwiches, or cook the meal outside, bringing the plates to the porch or into the small kitchen to eat.
“I’ll go get the pasta dough started,” I volunteered. “I always plan on making extra so I can dry the leftovers for future meals, but I never seem to be able to stay ahead of the game. Sarah’s usually the cook, but I help her when I can. When you get to feeling better, you can help, too, right dear?”
“Yes, Mommy,” Leah said with a radiant smile. She paused then added, “Do you have any idea how good that feels to say after so long? I mean, I know we weren’t close for…um…a while, but when you were gone, I realized how much I missed you.”
We shared a smile and a warm glow with her revelation, and it had nothing to do with the summer heat and humidity. The quiet peace between the two of us remained for quite a while, then Leah spoke up. “You know, I never thought about where we would live when we got here. We both—I think both James and I—were only focused on getting here. We knew we both wanted to stay, but…but…”
Wallace spoke up, “There’s plenty of land here to share and even more nearby for expansion…if we ever get the money or trade goods to purchase
it. There’s still enough summer and autumn left that we can build a house for you two before winter sets in. Actually, my father Jody and I have started on plans for a house for Evie, the children, and me. It might be a good idea to start both at the same time. Or not. I’ve never built a house, although my father has built several. But not Papa—he’s never built one. Oh, I guess this must be confusing to you. I’ve always called Julian ‘Papa’ and call Jody ‘Father.’”
Leah and James looked at each other. James spoke for the both of them. “Leah and I did a design for a house, too. She visited a house in the desert that was cooled using natural breezes, straw insulation, and a few other tricks. We have some drawings we’d like to share. I’m sure that ‘Papa’ and ‘Father’ would like to see them, too. I don’t think we’d better use those designations, though.”
“Those would be better than calling them grandfather and great-great uncle. That would be difficult, or at least unwise, to explain. Whichever feels more comfortable; I’m sure it will come naturally in short order. Come on, I know just the place for the two of you to use as temporary sleep quarters. It just needs a little rearranging. Are you up to a short walk?”
“I’ll let James go with you,” Leah said. “I’m going to stay and help Mom with dinner. Thank You, Lord, for Jenny giving me a way to keep calling her Mom. I don’t know what I’d do if I had to call her Dani. Or Evie…or Mrs. Pomeroy-Hart or…or…or. I’d better go sit on the porch now. I think the sun is getting to me. Don’t take too long, James. You’re not completely up to snuff, either.”
James started to escort her back to the house, but Leah put up her hand. “I can make it. Save your steps to go with Wallace.” She gave him what she hoped was perceived as a big smile, but knew he could right see through it. She was happy, but she was also scared. Then again, she rationalized, she would be just as frightened starting life as a newlywed in a new town with new relatives, no matter which time era she was in.
Ӂ ӁӁ
The men walked to the barn in silence. James could tell that Wallace wanted to ask him something, but was either bashful or didn’t know how to broach the subject. James was pretty sure he knew what it was, though, so just jumped in with the ‘history’ lesson.
“Danielle Madigan was her name before she came here. She went by the name Dani. She lived in the Arizona desert—far, far west of here, still part of Mexico, I think—got married, had one daughter—Audie Leah Madigan—stayed married for about twenty years, got divorced, and moved to Alaska—land of the northwest passage. Leah stayed behind in Arizona, went to school, and helped her father during his last months of terminal cancer. She graduated from college with honors as a ‘healer,’ took a job at a hospital in North Carolina, and was working there when her mother, Dani, came to visit her for a holiday. That was almost a year ago. While there, Dani rescued a strange little man who had been assaulted and robbed of a map. She took him to a little café—that’s like a tavern—fed him, and bandaged his wounds. That’s where I met her, at the café. An hour or so earlier, I had purchased ‘historical documents’ from a man. I thought they contained information about my great-great uncle many times over—Lord Julian Wallace Hart...”
James dipped his head at Wallace at this point to make sure he was following the story. His step-father’s eyes were glazed, but he nodded back, indicating that he understood it so far.
James continued, “Well, the document I had purchased was an old map, the same one stolen from the strange man Dani was helping. That was Master Simon, by the way. For some reason, Dani…er…Evie wound up following him, or taking him, to the place where she…well…she fell out of the 21st century.
“Something happened there. I don’t know what and don’t know if she knows either. I’m sure Simon—or Master Simon, as he likes to be called—knows, but I haven’t seen him around in the last two hundred years or so…”
James looked up to see if Wallace caught his little joke. By the roll of his father-in-law’s eyes and quick snort, he had, but didn’t care for the break in the story.
“Dani wound up here, in this time, but with a younger body and a severe case of amnesia. Well, pretty severe: from what I understand, all she recalls is that Leah is her daughter.” James cleared his throat and looked at the ground, trying to hide his little lie—she also remembered the fictional story Lost and many of the characters in it who had become her new family.
James paused for a moment, then looked up and continued. “Well, you know the rest of the story after that better than I do. She spent ten months here—Leah and I still don’t know that part of the story, by the way—was shot with a musket, then brought back to a 21st century hospital by Master Simon. There, her daughter Leah, just happened to be her nurse—that is, caretaker. And,” James struggled to make sure he had the name right this time, “Evie unknowingly left her smartphone—which she had used while here—at the hospital. It had information about this era and what she looked like on it. The phone and that same stolen map just happened to reappear at the most fortuitous time. They gave us the information and opportunity we needed to come back here. That is, if we chose to do so.”
Wallace sat down on the milking stool in the barn and pointed to the short bench next to the inside wall, offering the steadier seat to James. “So, there were too many just happened’s to be chance—is what you’re saying?”
“I don’t want you to think I’m saying anything blasphemous, but I believe God wants us to be here. Now. There were just too many coincidences involved. Quite a few odd characters are in the mix, too, and maybe we’ll get some of that figured out later. But I want you to know that Leah and I never met before two weeks ago, and now we’re married. I’m positive the Big Man had a hand in that one. She is a wonderful woman. Just like her mother, I’m sure.”
“Oh, Evie is a wonderful woman, all right.” Wallace said, then was silent—too silent and for too long.
James finally spoke up. “I’m sorry, Wallace. Maybe I told you too much. Sometimes a mystery is easier to handle than a history. She loves you very much. I read the letter she sent. She chose you and this place over the daughter she had known and loved for over twenty years.”
“Well, she also had the babies to come back to…,” he said softly, still unsure of himself.
“Oh, do not doubt yourself. No woman needs that, nor do your children. She said she didn’t want to be called Dani. She is Evie. She is very much your wife, and this time is where she wants to be. Not many people get a chance to start over again. She wasn’t given the option, and from what I knew of her—the old her—she was happy with who she was as an older woman of 60.”
“Sixty? Wow…”
“Yeah, wow. Do you realize what a great woman you have? And well, she’s a good-looking, foxy lady, too. And besides, you’re about 200 years older than she is, so don’t worry about the small numbers, all right, Dad.”
Wallace shook his head and smiled. “I didn’t have any children last month, and now I have five plus a son-in-law my age. But you know, they’re all great, and I wouldn’t trade any one of them for all the crown jewels in Europe. I don’t know what I did to deserve such a wonderful wife and family, but they are,” Wallace was shaking his head again, his smile comfortable and anxious-free, “definitely a gift from God. Stay put, I’m going to move some of this old straw out of here and put in some fresh bedding for you two. It’s not the best arrangement, but the privacy is great.”
***60 Yer Not Evie
Wallace walked outside into the late afternoon sun to the water trough to wash the straw dust and leaf bits from his face and arms. It had been a quick and simple task to establish his new daughter and son-in-law’s overnight accommodations—otherwise known as pitching fresh straw into a cleaned out corner of the barn. His family had increased again, and he couldn’t be happier. Now he would have the chance to get acquainted with the daughter Evie had reared in her earlier life, something he never thought possible. Leah must be a wonderful, generous young woma
n to give up the world she knew to travel back in time to be with her mother. And she had married a distant cousin of his, to boot. He was getting two relatives in one with him.
His new son-in-law, James Melbourne from London, was also the man referred to on that fancy raised-lettered business card Evie had found in her backpack two months ago. She hadn’t known the origination of the card when she discovered it. It was a mystery. Rather than fret about the enigma, she had chosen to accept it and not worry about why it was there. She called it the bumblebee. You see, she said, bumblebees could fly, but no one could explain why those fat little insects could stay aloft—much less maneuver so gracefully—with such itty bitty wings. It was a mystery and of no consequence. People got business cards all the time, or so she thought.
So, it turns out that this man—his Uncle Tony Melbourne’s great-grandson many times over—and Evie—Dani, back then—were from different parts of the world and had only been visiting North Carolina when they briefly met. Had fate or predestination brought them together? He didn’t know nor did he care. What he did know was that this same man was now waiting for him to finish moving hay, leaning against the split rail fence in the shade of the barn. James was still frail, but had offered to help him with the chore. Wallace knew he was just being polite—there was no way he had the strength to handle the task, he was still weak from his journey—but he had offered, and that showed good character. But still, it was such a big shock to have a son-in-law so soon. At this rate, he’d be a grandfather before he turned twenty-five!
Aye, I am a Fairy Page 51
