A Stitch in Time

by Amanda James

  ‘I’ll git to feedin’ her as soon as you tell me what you meant about our poor ma,’ Martha said, walking out of the bedroom and sliding on to a chair next to the table. Pink spots of colour flushed her cheeks and her breath came in short huffs. Sarah realised she must still be exhausted from childbirth and the heat was making things worse.

  Sarah walked over to Martha and handed Elspeth over. She pulled up a chair, leaned her elbows on the table and looked into her sister’s eyes. ‘OK, you are gonna find this real hard to swaller, but last night I had a dream.’ Sarah wondered if Martin Luther King would pop up and tell her off for what she was about to say. ‘In this dream, three men came a-ridin’ across the plains with gifts for little Elspeth here … It was kinda like in the Bible, with the wise men an’ all.’

  ‘What’s this lollygagging’? I don’t see what this has gotta do with our poor ma, or those Mennonites,’ Martha said, swatting a fly from her nose and putting the baby to her breast.

  ‘I’m comin’ to that. So these three men bring grain and vittles … and wait for it, Martha.’ Sarah jumped up and raised her hands above her head. ‘Our poor ma appears right by their side, points to the men, raises her hands to heaven and ses, “These are the friends of the child that bears my name; we accept your gifts with thanks, and forever shall you be welcome in my heart and in my home.”’

  Martha’s mouth fell open and she blinked. ‘You saw our poor ma in a dream, and she said that?’

  ‘She did, indeed.’

  ‘But, we ain’t seen no three men, there’s only a man and a boy in the barn.’

  ‘Yes but they came a-ridin’ over the plains just like in my dream,’ Sarah said, with a faraway look in her eye. ‘Artie, George and Abe, I saw them as I was takin’ a drink and I felt all peculiar like.’

  Martha shifted in her seat and Sarah could see she was swallowing this hook, line and sinker. ‘All peculiar like, what do ya mean?’

  ‘Like our poor ma had her hand on my shoulder. I could almost feel her fingers, a cool, light touch. And a perfume hung in the air … couldn’t quite put my finger on it …’

  Martha leant forward, her eyes shiny with tears. ‘Was it that Florida water she had once, smelled of oranges?’

  ‘That’s it, exactly like oranges.’ Sarah nodded. She felt a fraud, but if it meant that the seed would get planted and Martha’s family would survive, then so be it.

  Martha stood, handed Elspeth over to Sarah and buttoned her dress. Tears streamed down her face, leaving little traces in the film of dust that had settled over her cheeks while she’d been outside. She nodded to herself as if answering an internal question and then walked out of the door.

  ‘Where ya going?’ Sarah called.

  Martha’s voice carried back to Sarah on a sudden gust of wind. ‘To invite our neighbours for a bite to eat.’

  A good few hours later, they all gathered once more in the barn. George, Abe and Artie hadn’t been told of the reason behind Martha’s change of heart, just that it had to do with her poor ma. They had enjoyed a nice early supper of the bread that Martha had made, and some fresh boiled eggs from the barn chickens. The vittles of butter, cheese and pickles that George and Abe had brought added to the banquet. Artie remarked that they hadn’t eaten as well for some time.

  After George and Abe had saddled their horses and made ready to leave, Martha took Abe to one side and showed him Joe’s tools. ‘Because you have been so neighbourly, anytime you need to borrow anything just ask. Joe won’t mind,’ she said. Artie joined them, saying how his uncle was one of the strongest men he knew and that he could work out in the fields all day without stopping to rest once.

  George nodded over at them and said quietly to Sarah, ‘I guess your boy misses havin’ a pa. He told me he died a few months before he were born.’

  Sarah nodded, looked into George’s eyes and was relieved to realise that she was only attracted to him because the 1874 Sarah was. George was sweet but he wasn’t John. She sighed. ‘Yes, I guess he does miss having a pa, and I miss having a husband.’ She looked down and fluttered her eyelashes. The least she could do was give the right signals. OK, perhaps not the most subtle signal, but Sarah figured that guys in the Old West needed a clear map to follow.

  Perhaps soon Artie would get a pa, the 1874 Sarah would get a husband and they all would live happily ever after. Well, as happily as anyone could on the plains in those days.

  George leaned in close and whispered, ‘Would it be alright if I stopped by again, Sarah? Perhaps next week, we could—’ he cleared his throat and ran his hands through his hair ‘—we could go for a ride together.’

  She gave him her widest smile. ‘That would be a nice thing to look forward to, George, thank you.’

  Martha, Elspeth, Sarah and Artie watched George and Abe ride away, literally into the sunset.

  Not long after, Sarah slid into bed, pulled the sheet over her and looked out of the tiny window at the black velvety sky sprinkled with diamond chips. A coyote howled at the full moon hanging in the firmament like a giant Christmas bauble, and Sarah closed her eyes. Such beauty should be shared lying next to the one you loved. So, all happy ever afters here, but would she ever get hers? A tear ran from the corner of her eye, but before it had soaked into the pillow, Sarah was sound asleep.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Washing-up liquid, in the bedroom? Sarah sniffed again. And anyway, where the heck had Martha got that from? Not even the industrious Mennonites could have manufactured modern-day mild, green and kind-to-your-hands detergent. Opening her eyes Sarah found herself not in bed, but back in her kitchen standing at the sink in exactly the same position as when she’d left. Lowering her eyes she found that the long dress, apron and boots had been replaced with her jeans and sweatshirt.

  Through the window, the garden had lost its mysterious and otherworldly look, as the grey morning was now bathed in warmth and light. The birds sang, the green grass rippled in a slight breeze, and next door’s cat prepared another hole under the Silver Birch.

  Sarah glanced at the clock – 11 a.m. My God, she’d left at 5.45, that was only five and a quarter hours, and she’d been away four days. ‘Time flies when you’re having fun’ didn’t begin to cover it. She sighed and rubbed her eyes. Well, all things considered, this had to be a bonus. Even though the whole thing felt very strange, she at least had the rest of Saturday and Sunday to recover before returning to school. Apparently she’d been asleep, but felt in shock at the mismatch in time, bone weary and decidedly grimy. A nice shower and a cup of tea seemed like a plan and the height of luxury compared to the way she had recently been living.

  Turning from the window, she immediately noticed a piece of paper folded in half on the kitchen table. She picked it up and flicked it open, her heart turning somersaults when she saw who it was from:

  Hey, the hero returns! The report this time was phenomenal. Not only did you save little Elspeth, you saved the rest of ’em too. Martha persuaded Joe to let them plant the seed and they prospered so much in the next few years that they could afford one of those wind pumps you told me about.

  Now I expect you’re wondering what happened to Sarah and Artie. Well, George and Sarah got together, they planted the Turkey Red too, Sarah had another child, a girl who she called Martha, and Artie grew up to be a senator! He was responsible for paving the way for all manner of early civil rights bills, and little Elspeth … wait for this … are you sitting down? No? Well sit down now then.

  Sarah laughed aloud and sat at the table.

  OK, she was the great great great grandmother, of, let’s just say one of the most important leaders of the free world. And no, I can’t be more specific … but he’s fairly recent.

  ‘Oh my God!’ Sarah said out loud and punched the air. ‘Woohoo!’ All of a sudden everything she’d been through over the last four days seemed very much worth it.

  So, I understand that you will be back in the present at around 6 p.m. this evening. I have taken t
he liberty of shopping for a special meal and have splashed out on champagne. You deserve it, given everything you have been through, and … I do realise it must have been difficult finding out that you were a parent.

  We’ll talk more about it all this evening. I am desperate to see you and long to kiss your beautiful lips and a few other places as well!

  Come as soon as you are ready,

  Love you indescribably, everlastingly and forever and more gooey stuff like that too,

  John XXXXXXXXXXX

  Just reading the letter made Sarah go weak at the knees, her heart skip a beat, the colour rise in her cheeks and every other cliché used to describe how a woman feels when she’s in love. Bringing the letter to her face, she inhaled every trace of faintly lingering cologne, kissed his name and each kiss he’d placed at the end. Then she put it back on the table and dragged her weary arse upstairs to the bathroom.

  Slipping her clothes off, she wondered why John assumed she wouldn’t be back until this evening. Perhaps the powers that be weren’t as accurate as they thought they were, or perhaps they were rewarding her. She had saved the life of the great, great, great granny of one of the most important men in the world right now, after all.

  The hot water pounding on her head felt heavenly and she set to work scrubbing the dust out of her hair with a liberal application of her favourite shampoo. ‘I’m gonna wash the plains right outta my hair and send them on their w-ay …’ she sang, wiggling her bottom and flicking water from her feet in time to the tune.

  She spent a good half-hour getting scrupulously clean. Her awareness of body odour had returned with a vengeance and she realised she stank horribly, probably worse than the skunk she’d briefly encountered near the barn the other day, if that were possible. This prompted another song, to the tune of ‘Two for Tea’ but the lyrics were entirely made up. ‘Slam dunk the skunk, ’cos I’m meeting me hunk, and he ain’t no monk, da da da dada …’

  Hair dried, nails filed and painted, various hirsute regions shaved and waxed, and every inch of skin clean and moisturised. So, was she ready for action? No. She obviously couldn’t have slept long when she’d gone to bed under the full Kansas moon. Time traveller’s jet lag leadened her limbs and her eyelids felt as if they’d been replaced by two copies of War and Peace.

  Now the big fat question was, did she have a few hours’ snooze and go over early to surprise John, or did she sleep a little longer, do a bit of school work and go over for around seven? The sensible part of her brain opted for the latter, though Sarah didn’t feel particularly sensible today. Setting the alarm for 3 p.m., she conked out as soon as her head touched the pillow.

  By 4.30 p.m. Sarah was up, wonderfully refreshed and dressed in a red, silky, low-cut dress and strappy sandals. Her hair and make-up were perfect – well, as perfect as Sarah could get them without going to the salon and beautician – and a cloud of expensive perfume accompanying her every movement wafted sensuously into her nostrils. John wouldn’t know what had hit him.

  The expensive perfume was courtesy of a tester spray in Boots. She’d popped into town to buy John a surprise gift, and had only passed the perfume counter on her way through. An assistant had pounced on her and asked if she’d like to try a squirt. But she was now proving difficult to shake off.

  The young woman held up the perfume again, one hand on the stopper, the other underneath the bottle, as if presenting it as a prize for being the most gullible person in the shop. ‘Oh, but it is a very good offer, madam, and we of course will gift wrap it for you today,’ she said in a particularly annoying sing-song voice. Sarah thought she could give the evil school receptionist, Gillian, a run for her money regarding the thickness of her make-up, and her eyelashes looked as if a tarantula had taken up residence, dangling thick black hairy legs from each lid.

  ‘Gift wrap it today?’ Sarah asked mischievously. ‘So if I came in tomorrow would you refuse?’

  The assistant looked confused and blinked the tarantula legs a few times. ‘Oh no, madam, we always gift wrap for our valued customers.’

  ‘So, what about your unvalued ones, do you just chuck it in a scabby carrier bag and that’s it?’ Sarah couldn’t help it; the assistant had only pounced because she was dressed up. If she’d been dressed as normal in jeans, she wouldn’t have warranted a second glance. Sarah had also told her three times she didn’t want to buy the stuff. Maybe one day when she had won the lottery, but her purse wouldn’t run to it just now, especially since she had set aside quite a wedge for John’s gift.

  ‘Hee-hee-hee, I think you have a great sense of humour, madam. No, all our customers are valued,’ tarantula eyes said, shifting from one leg to the other, already looking around for more ‘normal’ potential buyers.

  ‘I’ll tell you what,’ Sarah said, leaning in close. ‘If my boyfriend asks me to marry him tonight after wild passionate sex because of this stuff I’ve got on, I’ll pop back and buy some. I’ll even let you gift wrap it for me, how’s that?’

  The assistant turned bright red, difficult to do under so much slap, and said, ‘Err, yes, ha ha, hope you have a nice evening.’

  Still grinning five minutes later, Sarah stopped outside a jeweller’s. The joke about marriage had been just that, but was she perhaps, on some subconscious level, expecting that tonight? The diamond rings in the window certainly looked very attractive. Here you go again, running before you can toddle. Sarah wasn’t here for those; she was here to buy John a very appropriate gift – a time piece.

  Pulling up outside John’s cottage half an hour later, she flipped open the black case and examined the watch again. Was it too much? They hadn’t known each other for long and here she was buying a watch that had cost a week’s wages. It had a chunky silver strap and so many gadgets that it could probably travel through time, as well as being able to tell it. Its face was unpretentious yet beautiful. A bit like it’s soon-to-be new owner’s. Taking the lid firmly in her fingers she pressed it shut for the final time. Stop faffing and get in there, you daft bat. He loves you and is dying to see you.

  Walking on her tiptoes, so her heels didn’t click-clack on the hall tiles, Sarah sneaked into the kitchen to surprise him. A few large potatoes sat on the table. A potato peeler was propped up against one of them, and what looked to be two steaks marinated in a bowl. Bottles of olive oil and wine vinegar were open and a lemon had been cut almost in two, but the knife hilt still stuck out halfway down. That was odd. Perhaps he’d left everything and gone to answer the phone or something.

  A little giggle of excitement and a tickle of mischief ran around her tummy. She’d carry on tiptoeing and then when she saw him, she’d yell, OK, FBI, you’re under arrest for Time-Needling without a warrant! That should be a laugh.

  Sarah put her head slowly round the living room door. All clear … perhaps he was upstairs then. Ah, no, the gauze curtain at the end of the room caught her eye as it puffed and fell. The patio doors must be open; John was probably setting the table outdoors. It had been a pleasant day and it should be warm enough to eat out, she imagined. Holding her breath, she tiptoed in and towards the patio doors. She could see that they were indeed ajar and heard music, she thought Coldplay, wafting in from outside. How perfect was this guy? Champagne, cooking a lovely meal, setting the scene outside with music and …

  The tinkle of a woman’s laughter cut across the music like a knife wound to her ears. Sarah halted abruptly, mid-tiptoe, in the middle of the room. The little gift bag containing the watch swung to and fro from her wrist and her heart thumped to ground floor. What the hell should she do now? There could be a simple explanation and she could be a friend … or his sister, yes, Sarah remembered that there had been a little girl in the family photo she’d seen. She exhaled and continued her approach in half-tiptoe mode. If his sister was out there, Sarah was hardly going to leap out yelling FBI, was she, but at the same time she wanted to keep her arrival fairly quiet just in case. Just in case of what, Sarah? The little voice of doubt had
showed up again. Just in case the laughter belonged to the other female on the other photo, Sarah, is that what you mean? it said, gleefully.

  Sarah reached the curtain and through it, could see two figures sitting at the table outside. Her heart was beating faster and her mouth was dry. They appeared to be drinking wine, but she couldn’t see properly as the gauze obscured a clear view. Her hands shook as she nipped the edge of the curtain between forefinger and thumb and drew it to one side slightly. Her throat thickened and tears sprang into her eyes. The figures were drinking wine. One was John and the other wasn’t his sister, or just a friend, it was Josephina.

  In that instant, the dream of a lovely reunion, a night of passion, a diamond ring and a happy ever after, bounced off her radar, out of orbit and into the stratosphere. In her haste to get out of there, she span round and, unused to wearing high heels, tottered to one side, knocking over a side table complete with china vase. Cr-a-sh! Bollocks! They couldn’t have failed to hear that!

  Setting off at a run, her heels did for her again when her left one got stuck down a join in the stripped pine floor and down she went, pain shooting through her ankle as she joined the side table and vase on the deck.

  John burst in, closely followed by Josephina. ‘Sarah? What are you doing here and what the hell happened?’ John asked, kneeling by her side.

  Sarah bit the inside of her cheek to stop herself from losing control and bawling her eyes out. She rubbed her ankle; it was sore but she could wiggle it and it wasn’t as bad as she first feared. ‘I don’t know, I just turned and tripped … I came back early.’ She looked up from her ankle at his worried face and lowered her eyes again. She couldn’t cope with his pity.

  ‘Oh dear, si, that ankle looks fat and puffy, Seera,’ Josephina breathed, her eyebrows knitting together and blinking her stunning dark eyes in an attempt to show concern. Sarah knew that her ankle looked perfectly normal; the woman was just being a bitch.