It had been almost thirty minutes since Gabriel’s departure. Odell stood up and took a restless turn about the room, stopping only when a bustle at the parlor door heralded the arrival of Cara.
Odell grabbed at the back of the chair as his vision telescoped. It was as if he saw her from a long distance away and then, just as abruptly, snapped back to normal.
She stood as always perfectly groomed and manicured. If her dress was less elaborate than in the past, it was no less elegant for the lack of adornment. There was no Cara equivalent in the restored timeline, but he felt a surge of affection for the years she had been his only source of love in one timeline, and a surrogate mother for him and Odette in yet another. His heart thumped painfully when he saw that the passage of years had finally written fine lines across her lovely face. Her bearing was still regal, but there was a fragility to her frame that had not been there before.
Odell smiled and opened his arms as she swept majestically into the room to embrace him. He almost laughed aloud when looking down at the top of her head he could discern no gray in the mane of rich auburn hair.
“Cara, you haven’t aged a day.”
Her green eyes twinkled up at him, and the still-red lips parted in a wide, delighted smile.
“And as beautiful as ever,” he said with genuine appreciation.
A firm clearing of the throat was followed by a familiar, yet unexpected voice, “Well, Mister Speex, she’s a married lady now, so you’ll have to be more careful with your compliments.”
He furrowed his brow momentarily at the small, wiry man who had followed Cara into the parlor.
“Hershel Gordon!” he said disbelievingly and heartily shook the smaller man’s hand. “How’s this? When I left, she was still playing hard to get.”
At that, Cara hit him playfully on his chest and said, “How dare you accuse me of such vulgar behavior! ‘Hard to get’… honestly, Odell!”
This time he did laugh out loud, because he could not think of a better ending to the most unlikely of romances. Odell had stayed in the past only long enough to see Odette and Gabriel married. In those few weeks, he had come to appreciate the intellect and acute observational skills of the diminutive Bow Street runner.
Hershel’s attempts at courtship, however, were less finely tuned than his deductive reasoning. Unpolished and brutally honest, he often had to retract comments and stumbled over the most basic elements of flirtation. Cara was never particularly unkind, but she had her standards and could be quite caustic with her replies. Odell had caught glimpses here and there of moments where they appeared to be in perfect accord, Cara, especially, with a look of comfort and serenity he had never seen before. But overall he had felt the runner’s chances were pretty slim.
He mentioned this once to Odette, who had smiled at him with annoying knowingness. When pressed for her thoughts, she had said only, “Hershel sees her beauty, but it doesn’t impress him. He loves her for entirely different reasons. I think this is something very new for Cara.”
He shook his head wryly at the memory.
“I can’t say I ever expected to see you again,” Hershel admitted, taking his measure. “And I can honestly say that you haven’t aged a day.”
“The complexities of time travel,” Odell replied with feigned nonchalance. “But it’s good to see you well and…” He smiled wide again with real enthusiasm. “…firmly riveted to the finest jewel in two dimensions.”
Hershel slipped an arm around his wife’s still girlishly slim waist and smiled equally wide. “Just two?” he countered.
“Nonsense!” Cara replied irritably. She extracted herself from her husband’s arm and both men’s gaze and walked over to the sofa. “I’m not some bloody precious stone.”
She sat down in between Evelyn and Ava. “Excuse me for using such vulgar language,” she said to the company in general. “Evelyn, my dear, do not take this as license to do the same.” Evelyn merely nodded as Cara continued, “Odell, please introduce us to your companion.”
Odell cleared his throat a little nervously. “May I introduce my colleague, Doctor Ava Washington, professor of history at the university where I work and teach.”
“Washington? An illustrious name to be sure,” intoned an unassuming voice from the doorway.
The company turned as one, and Ava, who was just beginning to feel normal again, was struck by a sudden wave of disorientation. She closed her eyes tightly and drew in three deep breaths, opened her eyes, and then quickly shut them again. Damn yoga, she thought, it never worked. Finally, she opened her eyes and this time stood up, knowing action and control, or at least the illusion of control, was the only thing that would reestablish her composure.
Benjamin Franklin walked into the room, followed by Gabriel. By now the small parlor was crowded with Ava, Evelyn, and Cara situated on or next to the sofa: Odell and Hershel arranged beside the chair: Hugh next to the secretary’s desk, having just entered and deposited the tea tray upon it: and Gabriel and Doctor Franklin just inside the doorway.
Ava had a momentary vision of this scene as an eighteenth century painting. Something like the formal depictions of important events she had so often seen in museums. What would this one be entitled? she thought a little crazily. “Benjamin Franklin Meets Free Negro Professor from the Future?” The absurdity of it all struck her forcefully, and she smiled her dazzling smile.
“Yes, Doctor Franklin, Washington is a surname many freed slaves adopted after their emancipation.”
“Was it a way to associate themselves with a prominent historical figure?” Franklin queried with unaccustomed abruptness, “To benefit from his stature?”
Ava felt the prick of irritation, and her sense of awe quickly dissipated. She had heard others make the same assertions, and it always angered her. The insinuation that by assuming George Washington’s name the slaves were seeking unmerited honor and unearned advantages was particularly irksome. She drew on her years of training and replied in a dispassionate tone, “I prefer to think of it as a way of asserting their freedom, of identifying with their country. By taking the most American of names, they were telling the world who they were. It was, I believe…” She faltered only slightly. “…an act of hope.”
Benjamin Franklin pursed his lips and nodded curtly. “I can see that.”
Odell released his pent-up breath. He had been worried about her. His experience with time-distortion sickness had at times been severe, and he couldn’t be sure she wasn’t experiencing the same thing. All her calm poise had returned, however, and she looked quite capable of taking on Benjamin Franklin.
Gabriel cleared his throat. “I went to get Ben… Doctor Franklin, because I wanted him to hear what you have to say, Odell. He needs to know why you’ve been sent here.”
They all rearranged themselves again on the sofa and various chairs placed about the parlor. But before Odell could begin, Gabriel said, “I’m sorry Hugh, Evelyn… but I’m going to ask you to leave the room. This all relates back to past events and may prove confusing. I will explain these to you later when there is more time to elaborate. I promise.”
He smiled at them as Hugh nodded stoically and, to Gabriel’s surprise, Evelyn meekly rose from the sofa, kissed her Aunt Cara on the cheek, and headed for the door. There, Hugh put a comforting arm around her shoulders, and they left the parlor together, shutting the door behind them.
Gabriel looked over at Cara who raised her eyebrows disbelievingly and ventured, “Unusually biddable, wouldn’t you say?”
It was Ava who responded, “We gave her quite a shock. Perhaps she’s still feeling the effects of our sudden appearance.”
Gabriel looked doubtful, but turned his attention back to the matter at hand. “Odell gave me only a basic outline of the situation, but I believe his objective is the same as ours,” he said to the group.
Odell was watching Benjamin Franklin and had the distinct feeling he was not completely on board with their objective. He sat with his arms fold
ed and was looking down as if contemplating the pattern on the rug.
“Well,” Odell began, “I met with Ambrosius just once, but in that time he gave me a pretty broad overview of what we are dealing with. And… well, even as a scientist, it’s rather difficult to wrap my mind around. Basically this all began with the creation of the universe, with the Big Bang itself.”
Prompted by confused looks from his eighteenth-century companions, Odell gave a brief explanation of the generally accepted theory of how the universe was created. There was a collective air of discomfort with this dry academic account of so mythic an event, even from the non-believing Gabriel.
Odell squared his shoulders and soldiered on through his explanation, “It is generally believed that the universe continues to expand, but according to Ambrosius this initial massive expansion was almost immediately followed by some elements in the universe beginning to constrict—at an infinitely slower rate. It is the Time Traitors’, the Liberi, as they call themselves, assertion that for millennia this constriction was balanced out by expansion in other areas, particularly by specific human behaviors.” Odell stopped for a moment to allow his audience questions.
“How?” was Cara’s deceptively simple question.
“Through making connections, building, creating, sharing, giving…”
Benjamin Franklin looked up sharply and said, “The hand of God, perhaps?”
Odell smiled. He knew that in later life, Franklin had rejected the authority of organized religion, but he was still a Christian, still a believer. It was clear to Odell that he was uneasy with whatever mission the atheist Gabriel was espousing. Nevertheless, it was ironic that he would find comfort in the very aspect of this theory Odell found hardest to believe.
“Certainly Christianity and many other world religions have doctrines that encourage this type of behavior,” Odell responded, “but it could as easily be a result of practicality on the part of early humans. Survival of the group was often, and in many cases still is, dependent on people displaying just these characteristics.”
“Yes,” Ava added. “And it makes sense that these qualities would be enshrined in religious belief as a way to perpetuate that very behavior.”
Odell nodded in concurrence while several other pairs of eyes looked at her with varying degrees of acceptance.
“Well, this balancing act must have gone wrong somewhere or we wouldn’t be sitting here,” Hershel declared, breaking the uncomfortable silence with this unassailable statement.
“I don’t know when it all went wrong, and I’m guessing the Liberi don’t either,” Odell admitted. “Perhaps it all started around the time human civilization became sedentary… maybe with the advent of agriculture, the ability to accumulate wealth and power.”
“Is there something inherently wrong with wealth or power?” Franklin asked. His tone was as mild as ever, but Odell observed Gabriel stiffen and sit up straighter in his chair. Here was obviously a recurring disagreement between the two men.
“Maybe,” Ava mused with academic detachment, and Franklin shot her a brief, unreadable glance. “Before this, wealth was shared. Each person had a role to play and was valued for her or his contribution. There may have been leaders, people whose opinions were sought for guidance and wisdom. But the type of wealth disparity we see in this time, and indeed our own, is obscene, and largely dependent on accumulation through inheritance or structural advantages of class and race.”
Gabriel looked at her with approval. “Well said,” he agreed. “Even the revolutionary movement we are witnessing here is not an inclusive one.”
Benjamin Franklin was on the verge of responding when Odell stepped in quickly to keep the conversation from digressing into an area that clearly required more finesse than he was capable of at the moment. “Whatever the true nature of wealth and power,” he hastily intervened, “the fact that it is accumulative is enough to upset the balance. Giving time the opportunity it needs to constrict further, and faster.”
Gabriel looked puzzled. “Time? Are you saying time itself is driving this?”
Odell nodded. “Who can imagine a greater enemy?”
“Or a greater friend, depending on how one looks at it,” Ava countered. “Time has no moral direction.”
“No,” Odell agreed. “But it does have a nature, a physical nature, and it is this we must combat.”
“But why? Cara asked. “We re-set the timeline. Why isn’t everything better?”
“The alternate dimension allowed Odette to be born. Once it had been re-set to the prime timeline, they had hoped… well, they’d hoped things would turn out differently.”
Gabriel stood up and walked over to the window, gazing out into the darkness. Odell could tell he was thinking of Odette.
“We are to believe the Liberi… Ambrosius Speex?” Benjamin Franklin asked skeptically.
“No. I think we are to believe Odette,” was Odell’s terse response, “or, at least, believe in her.”
“Odette isn’t here.”
This simple statement was enough to bring Gabriel abruptly around from the window. “No,” there was a fierce quietness in his voice, “she isn’t. According to Odell, she is with the Time Traitors trying to figure out what went wrong. But I do know she believes in what we are doing here. She believes that by stopping the commerce in human souls, we can start anew. She believes that we can make a difference, that we can help remake the world into a better place.”
Benjamin Franklin stood up and walked over to him. He laid a sympathetic hand on his arm. “There is not much in this world I would not do for your wife, Gabe, but we are facing the most powerful military on earth. The colonies must be united. We cannot defeat the British if we are not in this together—” He held up a hand to stave off Gabriel’s impending interruption. “I know where you are going with this, and I tell you plainly there is no way we will be united if we insist on the abolition of slavery.”
“Even if it means the continued constriction of our world… of everything?” Gabriel was incredulous. “Of passing this fight on to future generations? When we can end this here for possibly millennia to come?”
“But we have to win first!” Odell could hear the unfamiliar sound of frustration creep into Franklin’s voice. “If we don’t win, there will be nothing. At least if we win, there will be a fight to pass on, a chance to finish this somewhere down the line.”
“No, Ben, you are wrong! There won’t be a chance,” Gabriel declared. “That is why Odell is here. The future is falling apart, being broken down, and it is because we failed them here—now! Oh, there may be an infinitesimally small possibility that there might be a chance sometime in the future, but it is so minute to be not even a hope.”
“What would you have me do? How would you have me explain this to the other representatives? How can I even make the argument to take up this fight without the southern colonies?”
“Because you have to,” Odell’s voice cut through the tense interaction between the two men. Both turned to look at him and blinked as if recalled to the presence of others. “And I have a plan,” he continued, “It means a radically different revolution, but I think it can set a course for unprecedented expansion and connection.”
They all looked at him expectantly, and he gave a self-effacing shrug of his shoulders. “Well, I’m not really sure it can do all that, but it’s the only thing I could come up with.”
Gabriel shook his head and smiled. “I guess I should go get another pot of coffee. It looks like we have a long night ahead of us.
He and Benjamin Franklin stepped away from the window just as the ground shook, and the glass panes blew inward on a blast of super-charged heat.
Fourteen
EVELYN AND HUGH were sitting in a small, chilly room just above the parlor. It was an oddly shaped slip of space in between two of the upstairs bedrooms. No one knew its purpose or why it had been so stealthily inserted into the house. It was cluttered with all manner of household tools,
mostly those used for cleaning and general maintenance. While it was equipped with three hard wooden stools, it was otherwise unfit for prolonged habitation or cozy chats.
The two occupants of this bare room were not interested in comfort or conversation. They sat side-by-side, each stock-still on a stool and staring rather comically at an iron grate in the floor. It was through this grate that they heard, in clear audible voices, the incredible exchange of their elders.
Hugh, at first, had disdained to show interest in events unfolding in the parlor below, believing eavesdropping beneath his dignity. He had told himself that he was sitting with chilled fingers and cramped legs only to keep an eye on Evelyn, knowing from long acquaintance her perchance for mischief. But soon his curiosity overtook his dignity, and his astonishment grew as the story unfolded. Eventually, he leaned as eagerly toward the dirty grate as did his companion.
It was through this grate that the two miscreants heard the blast and the immediate confused jumble of voices from below. The force of the explosion had been strong enough to rattle the rafters and send a shower of dust and dried flakes of paint down upon them. They exchanged a quick, confused look before dashing headlong for the door and in a stumbling rush down the staircase.
The group from the parlor was already gathered in the foyer, and Gabriel and Odell had run out into the street. The rest joined them there and stood with shock, looking east down Walnut Street and the night sky lit up like a gigantic bonfire.
“Is it the British?” Hugh frantically asked with a mixture of excitement and fear in his voice, “Is it the British?”
“It can’t be!” Benjamin Franklin exclaimed in a hard, angry tone, “I don’t believe it!”
“Hugh, come with me,” Gabriel barked as he headed off down the street with the young man hastening after him. “No, Evelyn, you stay here!” Gabriel stopped only to gesture his daughter back toward the house. “We have no idea what has happened.”
Twin Speex: Time Traitors Book II Page 14
