“Have you felt the baby move yet?” Sarah asked, bringing me out of my trance of insecurity.
“I don’t know if it was a baby moving, but it must have been. I felt something like butterfly wings fluttering in my lower belly. I didn’t feel any arms or feet, though.”
I sat up straight. She was my doctor and I had to tell her. This was important.
“Ian told me that when he found me—just before we were married—that I was, as he called it, on my courses. I was having a period, so I know I didn’t come to him pregnant.”
“Well, women have been known to continue menstruation for several months into pregnancy. It is possible you were already pregnant when you, um, married.” Sarah was being gentle, but clinical. “However,” she said, a look of hope shining in her bright amber eyes, “when did you feel the fluttering?”
“I first felt it a week ago. I still feel it now and again when I’m lying down and holding still. I don’t think I was pregnant when we got married, though, because it hurt like the dickens the second time we made love. I thought it would hurt the first time if I was a virgin, but it was the second time. Is that possible?”
“Oh, very possible; the hymen could have been moved aside and not penetrated during intercourse. So, because you felt the baby moving for the first time last week—that’s called the quickening by the way—and you were a virgin when you married, I’d say you were having twins. At least. Congratulations.”
“Uh, did you say twins…at least?” I gasped. “This can’t be!”
I was glad I was sitting down or I would have fallen down; I was feeling faint again.
“Well, I’ve never delivered triplets, but you do seem a bit further along in size than a woman carrying twins. Do multiple births run in your family?”
The new memories I had recalled earlier weren’t personal. They were world history, generic modern day knowledge, and that strange insight into her family and friends’ lives. I still knew nothing of myself, my life ‘BI’—Before Ian. “I don’t know. That’s my other problem: amnesia.”
**26 Double Amnesia?
“Is there such a thing as double amnesia?” I asked. “I mean, it seems that I already had amnesia when I first appeared here. I have no idea how I got here either, so please don’t ask; it just frustrates me more.
“Sometime later, I don’t know how long—an hour, a day, a week?—it’s kinda fuzzy—I rescued a man I didn’t know, that would be Ian, from a gang of thugs. I do remember that I rescued Rocky first because he helped me drag the bagged-up Ian into to a cave. That’s where I tended to Ian’s wounds and we hid out from the bad guys. He told me later that they had bound him and thrown him into the gunnysack, beat him with sticks, then forced him to walk over burning coals and broken glass. As a result, his feet were a mess and his hands not much better.
“Then, for some still unknown reason, I climbed up on top of the tall, rocky crag above our cave. I tripped and tumbled ass over teakettle to the ground. I cracked my head hard enough to lose consciousness for a day, maybe it was two, and when I awoke, Ian was tending to me…and I couldn’t remember anything.
“I still have general knowledge, like how to speak, do math, a lot of what I learned in science and history, but it’s not of this colonial time period. It’s 21st century recall: save and back up files before shutting down the computer, and what’s a good price for toilet paper. Do you want to know who’s president in 2012?”
“Does it matter?” asked Sarah.
“No, not really, especially if we’re going to stay here for the rest of our lives. Actually, so far, I like it here. I don’t remember my personal past, so I don’t miss anyone. I get random spurts of memory, like when I told Julian I was born in New Haven. But so far, that’s all I know about me: I was born in America. True, I miss hot showers and bananas and music, but not the hectic pace, noises, and pollution in general.”
I sighed in frustration. I needed to share my uncomfortable suspicions with her. “I think Ian knew I was pregnant. We never talked about it, but I’m sure he knew. It was pretty obvious, considering how close we were. But the reason he brought me here was to see if you had something in your little stash of herbs that would restore my memory.”
Sarah bit her bottom lip and took a deep breath, bracing herself to give the bad news. “I’m afraid only time will take care of your memory. There have been cases when it came back all at once, sparked by a word, a sight, or an incident. Other times…well, you might want to get used to your new life.”
“When I awoke here earlier today, I suddenly had loads of memories flooding my brain. Before that moment, I didn’t remember anything. But what I did recall, didn’t make sense. I was bombarded with knowledge about events and people who had no personal relevance to me. How and why would I know about Mona and Wallace? I’ve never met them before. Do you think it’s because I’m next to you?” I gave a big sigh and lay back into the chaise. “If that’s the case, I don’t want to get in a crowd. My head would explode!”
“When you confronted Julian and Wallace’s erstwhile kidnappers, did you ‘feel’ anything with them?”
“Nope, I felt nothing but disgust when I was near them. Could it be because they weren’t fairies like we are?” I asked, my mouth twitching to contain my smirk at the word.
“Fairies?”
“Isn’t that what they call time travelers who just ‘pop’ into another time?”
“Aye, we’re fairies,” she agreed in a Scots accent with a shoulder shrug of acceptance. “Now, this other thing…” Sarah’s lips pursed and her eyes narrowed to focus her deep thinking. “That’s a very real possibility. If we ever encounter any other fairies,” her mouth turned up in a full grin, “we’ll check out your theory. But for right now, to take care of your delicate condition, all you need to do is eat right, drink lots of water, and exercise…which is easy enough to do in these times. Goats don’t milk themselves and gardens don’t plant, weed, and harvest themselves, either. I’ll be glad to have the help and the company.”
“Well,” I added, “at least until Ian returns. I don’t know where he wants to go next. I actually hope he wants us to stay here with you, though. It would be nice if that’s his plan.”
“Ian isn’t the type of man who plans,” explained Sarah. “He seems to attract situations, and then reacts.”
“Oh, so is that why he left? He was reacting to the ‘un-planned’ part of me getting pregnant?” I was on the verge of tears. “Was looking for Jody just a ruse so he could dump me on you?”
Sarah reached out and held me close. “Evie, family men here don’t look at pregnancy as a negative event. They celebrate it. Big families are an asset, and the men brag about how many children they have.”
“Well,” I sniffed as I pulled away and looked at her, “Ian told me he lost a couple of children, and I think he’s afraid that this one will die, too. Or two will, but he doesn’t know about the ‘twins at least’ part. No, my gut feeling is Ian wanted to get away from me because I was pregnant. He probably felt that if he just left me here, you and Jody would take care of me. After all, it’s not as if I had any friends or family of my own around to watch out for me.”
“You are family in more ways than one, and we’ll take care of you. Don’t give up on Ian yet, though. There may be more to his disappearance than we know about. In the meantime, we’ll get some quilts for you and partition off this little area as your room.” A big smile came across Sarah’s face as she finished, “Then we can divvy up the chores.”
**27 Depression and Gimpy Return
Sarah had arranged for two women, Dottie and Betty Rourke, to tend to the house and animals while she and Jody were out ‘takin’ care of business,’ which was her code for working to help America gain independence. Sarah trusted the women to make sure the chickens and goats were fed and the woodpile kept full. They lived nearby and were glad help the cause in their own small way.
Business could take many forms and be for any length
of time. A short trip generally meant Jody would be gone by himself for up to a day, maybe two, gathering information locally. But if he knew he would be gone for more than forty-eight hours, Sarah would be by his side. I knew he respected her insight on the situations involved with the conflict, but he also wanted her healing hands nearby if any bloodshed should occur.
At least that’s what he said.
I knew she had a separate body from his—well, except for at intimate moments—but they shared the same soul. Neither could stand to be apart from the other—period. I wasn’t jealous of their closeness, but did marvel at it.
Jody had established a very dependable network of spies, but like any good crop, they needed cultivating. He would try to visit with each of them on a semi-regular schedule, asking if they had heard or seen anything suspicious. If they didn’t have any special insights—or even if they did—he would ask specific questions. Invariably, what his operative had thought was nothing important, would be valuable information for Jody—at least, eventually.
Just his appearance was inspiring to the undecided who wondered if the conflict with Mother England was worth the fears and fighting it was causing. Many people here had lived through the Rising in Scotland and were afraid that if a young America lost, all hell would break loose, and the resulting restrictions and retaliations would make their lives even worse, with still more suppression, repercussions, and taxes.
“This is neither England nor Scotland. This is our home, America, and we have the right to enact our own laws, gather our own taxes fer our own needs. We shouldna be forced to have the British soldiers take our food, or anything else that strikes their fancy. Let the British Loyalists go back to their own land and kiss the King’s arse. Leave us here to build and govern our country.”
Jody was passionate, but his words—although important and inspiring—were not as valuable as was the enthusiasm and optimism he brought to the people with his impromptu gatherings.
Julian and Wallace had finally agreed to stay missing from their unit. Wallace was in favor of fighting for the cause of America’s freedom, but Julian wanted him to lie low; there was the matter of his lands and titles to consider. No matter how passionate Wallace’s political feelings, Julian wanted him to be able to retain his vast land holdings and property. Declaring his advocacy for freedom from British rule was a bad fiscal move. If their former outfit had seen the two of them being kidnapped, the officers probably figured that they were being held hostage. They would reasonably assume that their families would either pay the ransom or not. If not, they would remain prisoners or be killed.
Julian surmised that he and Wallace could always surface later—after the conflict was over—and reclaim their estates, if indeed their properties were still intact at that time.
“Dinna worry about money, son,” Jody told him. “It willna buy ye health, and no matter what anyone says, it willna buy ye happiness either. Yer safe here and now, and the Lord willin’, we’ll be able to keep food on the table fer all of us. Jest keep yerself alive—the money isna important.”
When Julian first heard what Jody had said, he was furious. Falls Church—the huge plantation in Virginia he had helped establish for Wallace—was more than just a few dollars. But he realized that he would give it up at once if it meant that its loss would save Wallace’s life. And so the two men joined Jody, Sarah, and me in our life of near poverty.
Ӂ Ӂ
Dottie and Betty came by, but not for a visit. They had all their belongings stacked and tied onto their brother Jess’s wagon. The three of them were moving out.
Dottie explained, “Jess heard that there was some good trappin’ out west. He’s a good farmer, too, he is. I wager he could get corn to grow out of a rock! He can do the plantin’ in the springtime and gather furs in the winter. We figure if we go far enough west, there willna be any more war, and no one will try and conscript him into the army. I’m sorry, Mrs. Pomeroy, I jest canna stand to be around all this fightin’ any more. We already lost our ma and pa to the smallpox, and we’re all we have. Ye have the two extra men—dinna fash, we willna tell anyone—and yer sister here to help ye. Please,” she handed Sarah a twine-tied bundle, “would ye give this to Miss Evie? She can use it to make a proper dress fer herself and maybe a gown or two fer the bairns.”
Dottie had given Sarah a large roll of fabric secured with bits of twine knotted together. It looked as if the sisters had been gathering rags with some wear left on them, and had pieced the better portions together into a long length of cloth.
I had stayed inside the kitchen doorway, hardly visible in the shadow of the doorframe, while they were explaining their personal reasons for leaving. When I heard Dottie ask Sarah to give me the cloth, I came out to accept the gift in person.
“Thank you so much. You really didn’t need to give me anything, but I sure do appreciate it.”
I took the bundle of fabric and opened out the end of it. The women were very talented and did a beautiful job. They had used fine stitching and kept the colors similar so it didn’t look like a large dishcloth. “This will make a proper dress for me, and I’ll be sure to let the babies know that their first gowns were made from a gift of love.” I gave a little curtsy to each of the ladies in thanks.
“Is there anything you need before you leave?” Sarah asked with concern. “Did you pack a lunch? Evie, do we have any of those cookies left?”
I ran into the house and grabbed two fistfuls of the oatmeal and dried currant cookies I had baked earlier. The men hadn’t come back from their wood gathering expedition, so we still had lots left. “Here, sweets for the sweets. Maybe this will help the trip go a little easier.”
“Thank ye. We’ll miss ye. And may God keep ye all safe in His bosom.”
Ӂ Ӂ
Sarah had gone on another ‘business’ trip with Jody, and Julian and Wallace were off in the woods de-limbing trees for a secret project Jody had planned. I really didn’t care what it was, and that was my problem.
I didn’t care about anything.
It had been two weeks since Ian dropped me at the Pomeroy’s doorstep. No one had seen or heard from him since. Jody had his friends, contacts, and spies—or whatever—looking for him. Any way you looked at it, I had been ditched, deserted, abandoned, and probably forgotten. There were at least fifty ways to say what had happened to me, but they all brought up the same negative feelings.
That first evening when I initially encountered Sarah, I was so happy. I was going to have someone to talk to, and she would have someone to share chores with. That sounded wonderful to me. I would have a purpose. But now she was gone with Jody, and the few chores to be done were being taken care of by Wallace.
I had used the fabric Dottie and Betty had given me to make a skirt and a shawl for myself. That kept me busy for a few days. However, there wasn’t any leftover for the babies’ layette, and that frustrated me. Then I realized that I could use the shawl now—while it was cold—and just before the babies were born in late spring or early summer, I could cut it up and use it to make a couple of gowns and some diapers. At least my babies would be covered in something. I’d have to wait to do that, though. It was chilly and I needed the shawl to keep warm. However, if I could somehow manage to make another shawl, not only would I be able to get a head start on cutting and sewing the babies’ layette, I’d have something to do, something to look forward to when I woke up in the morning.
I knew how to crochet, but I didn’t have any yarn or even a crochet hook. I knew that somewhere, at some time, I learned how to spin yarn, but there wasn’t any wool available or even a critter to get it from. I even thought about gathering a bunch of that weed fluff that was all around—stuck in the bushes and scrub—to see if I could get enough of it to spin. I realized how ridiculous that idea was. I couldn’t make something out of nothing, no matter how clever I thought I was.
It was gloomy outside—gray, but not precipitating—but gloomier inside, so I decided to go for a walk
. Actually, the depression was getting so bad, I was seriously thinking of taking a long walk out onto a partially frozen lake. At least that way there wouldn’t be a messy corpse—actually no corpse at all until maybe summer. Nobody would care. Certainly not Ian; he’d never know because he’d never ask. Sarah and Jody were busy. They’d be sad, but life would go on for them. It always did. Wallace and Julian would make do. I really wasn’t a part of their lives anyway. Besides, Julian always seemed to land on his feet, and Wallace was young, good looking, smart, and Jody’s son. Anything and everything was possible for him.
And then there was me. I was unwed by conventional standards and pregnant, which put me on about the lowest social level there was in this era. My caste rating was just about the same as that of a prostitute. No, wait—probably lower since I never made any money out of what I did. I had nothing to offer society—no skills or talents—so how could I expect to support my children? It would be probably be better if they didn’t make it into this world and I just made an early exit.
All these thoughts were compounding as I picked up a short, fat stick on the way to the creek. I knew if I followed the poor excuse for a stream, I’d wind up at the lake. I’d never been there before, but had heard about it. I’d make my decision about taking the long, wrong walk after I got there.
The club felt good in my gloved hand. It was almost the weight of a baseball bat. I picked up a rock, tossed it high in the air and—wham!—I hit at least a double. The handle was a bit rough, though, so I took out my Leatherman and used the sharp knife-edge to narrow and smooth out a grip. I hit a few more rocks then decided that I’d better whittle off the rest of the bark or I’d put out an eye with the shrapnel that came off with the rock’s impact. “Good grief, girl. You’re thinking about suicide, but worried about getting bark in your eye. Make up your mind.”
Well, I guess I had already made up my mind. The self-preservation instinct I had to protect my eyes was the revelation I needed. I really wasn’t in a life-taking state after all. Then again, I couldn’t take my life without taking the lives of my babies. And—whether I had asked for them or not—they were alive, and I had no right to kill them. I shivered at the thought of it. “Nope, it’s all gonna be all right,” I said, picked up another rock, and batted it out into the creek.
Naked in the Winter Wind Page 25
