Somehow he had to convince her to go with him when the time came. He tried to imagine how it would be, up on that hillside in the early morning hours, on that fateful day next April.
Would the cataclysm of the rock falling do what Jackson and he were hoping, open a tunnel in time that they could pass through? Or, as Tom dreaded, would they simply have a bird’s-eye view of the tragedy of Frank and be forced to resume their lives there, however disrupted, knowing that they were fated to live their years out in the first part of the century instead of the last? No one could say; they could only try.
And if by some miracle it worked for him and Jackson, would it work for the others, for Leona, say---or Zelda? If Zelda was there, Tom knew that Virgil and Eli would be as well. He’d never ask her to leave her family behind, and, of course, she’d never agree to do so. Was there a limit to the number of people who could pass through, assuming the route was there?
All they could do was try. And Tom had to convince Zelda to try along with him.
He asked her on a cold December morning, after they’d made greedy, impatient love once, and slower, gentler love once again.
Virgil was on the day shift, Tom on nights, which meant that as soon as Eli left for school, there was blessed privacy for lovemaking, a rare occurrence now that winder made trips to their cave impossible.
They were in Tom’s bed, languorous and lazy from lovemaking. The room was icy, but they lay wrapped in each other’s arms, snug under layers of quilts. The sun shone through the frost on the tiny window, and outside they could hear an occasional team and wagon go jingling past the house. It had snowed again in the night, and sounds were muted and faraway.
“We’ve got to get up, Tom.” Her whisper tickled his ear. “The fires downstairs will be out if we don’t stoke them soon, and I hate having to start them all over again. And you’ve got to go to the general store for me. We’re out of sugar and flour, and I need to make bread. Tom?”
He was listening. He was trying out words and phrases in his head, but none of them sounded just right. He tightened his arms around her and drew a breath. Why was it so hard to say?
“Zelda, I’ve been thinking. I want you to try and come with me when I go. Will you?” His voice was strained. “In April, the night of the Slide.” He drew another deep, shaky breath and added in a rush, “I love you. I want you with me.”
He felt her stiffen in his embrace. She was curled against his chest, and he couldn’t see her face.
“I couldn’t leave Dad and Eli.” Her husky voice was thin, and she sounded breathless. “And you’ve never told them the whole story, Tom.”
“I know that, I thought of that. I’ll talk to them. I’ve already told your dad some of it. I’ll explain the whole thing. I’ll convince them to come along, too. If it works at all, I don’t see why it won’t work for all of us as long as we’re in the right place at the right time.”
He wanted so much to believe that.
She squirmed away from him so she could see his face.
“Have you thought what it would mean, being back in your own time with all of us? Have you considered the responsibility, Tom? We’d be dependent on you, at least at first. Not just me, but Eli and Dad as well.”
He’d thought about it. In his entire adult life, he’d never even had a pet relying on him, and now he’d have an entire family.
“I’ll take good care of all of you, Zel,” he promised with quiet assurance. He’d figured it out in detail. “I have plenty of money. If you don’t like any of the apartments or a house I own, we’ll build one to suit you. In New Mexico if you like it there. If you don’t, then somewhere else.” His words tumbled out, spelling out the dreams he’d woven in the past weeks. “You can take classes in photography at any college. You’ll be so amazed and excited at the new techniques, Zel, the modern cameras. We’ll enroll Eli in a good school and get the best doctors in the country to treat Virgil. He’ll be better in no time, what with the sunshine and the best of medical advice.” He hoped that was true, although he wasn’t certain.
“And what happens if it doesn’t work the way you plan? What happens if we stand up there and watch the mountain slide and then have to go on here with the lives we already have?”
He was quiet for a moment. This was the part he didn’t dare let himself contemplate. “Then we’ll have to make the best of it, but I know it won’t happen that way, Zelda. That one night, in that special place, up on the mountain where the Interpretive Center was, we’ll get back. You wait and see.” There was passion and excitement in his tone, and he scooped her close and kissed her hard. “You’ll come with me then?”
She hesitated, and her nod was reluctant, but he chose not to notice. “Talk to Dad and Eli. If they agree, yes, I’ll come. Because I love you, Tom.”
Virgil shook his head. “No, lad, I can’t do that.” His blue eyes were troubled, his refusal definite and final sounding. “Thank you, son. But, no.”
Tom looked at the older man, and his frustration made it difficult to hold his temper. “Why the hell not, Virgil? I don’t get it. It’s a chance for a better life for all of you, for Eli, for Zelda, for yourself.”
“The young’uns can go. I’m not stoppin’ them, I never would. But me, I’m too old, too set in my ways.” He grimaced and sucked on his pipe. “Can’t teach an old dog new tricks, my own daddy used to say. This place you talk of sounds mighty strange to me, what with them cars and planes and talkin’ pictures in a man’s parlor, and all.” He coughed, the deep, harsh sound that was beginning to punctuate every hour of his days. It seemed to go on and on, and when it subsided, his eyes were red and streaming and it was difficult for him to breathe. “Anyways,” he wheezed, “seems it’s a young person’s world, this time you tell about. Old folks get stored away, so to speak, in those rest houses you told of, don’t they?”
Tom cursed himself for ever mentioning them, but he couldn’t deny that what Virgil said was true. When he thought of it, the future did seem centered more around the young, with the old often relegated to special areas where they weren’t too visible.
Evelyn Lawrence was suddenly as clear to Tom as if she was present, and he felt a stab of shame. He remembered flipping the coin with Jackson, dreading the visit to the old people’s residence, begrudging the few hours she asked of his time.
“Me, I wouldn’t do too good in one of those there places, Tom,” Virgil was saying. “They likely wouldn’t let me have my pipe or my tea when I wanted them. I’d as soon take my chances here, where things is familiar, when I get old.”
“But you’d be with us, Virgil, with family. We’d never put you in a retirement home.” Tom knew he sounded desperate. Damn it all, he was desperate. “You know Zelda will never agree to come along without you.” Tom hadn’t planned to blackmail the older man, but he wanted this too much to give up easily.
Virgil nodded, and a sadness came over his usually cheerful features. “I figgered that, Tom, lad. I’m getting’ weaker every day. I won’t be around much longer, and it’s time for some straight talk between you and that girl of mine. I figger it ain’t my place.”
Tom felt color rise in his face, but he looked Virgil straight in the eye. “I love Zelda, and I’ll take good care of her.”
Virgil nodded and sighed. “No doubt you would, son. Yer a fine man. But Zelda’s my girl, the best daughter a man could have. I’d like nothin’ better than to see her settled before I go. She loves you, a blind man could see that, and when you look her way, I know the feelin’s mutual. But it’s come to me you just cain’t give up on wantin’ to go back to your own territory, no matter yer feelin’s fer Zelda, no matter if she goes or stays. Am I right?”
Tom looked into Virgil’s weary eyes and wished with all his heart he could answer differently. The words pained him.
“Yeah, you’re right, Virgil.” He held the older man’s gaze steadily with his own. “I love Zelda,” he said. “I want to spend my life with her, but I can’t live here, a
s a miner, and be content. I want more. I have---I had---more, back there. I want to enjoy what I worked hard to get, if going back’s possible. I want Zelda to enjoy it with me, and you and Eli, too.”
“But whether we come or not, you’ll still go up that hill next April’s end?”
There it was. Virgil was far too wise to miss the flaw in Tom’s proposal. “Yes, I will.” The words nearly choked him, but there was no alternative to the brutal truth. “It’s what I have to do.”
Virgil nodded. “I ain’t blamin’ you, son. But there’s the thing that rubs me, y’see. To my mind, you ain’t puttin’ my Zelda first. You ain’t sayin’ you care enough to choose ta live here in her world.”
Tom didn’t answer, because he saw clearly that Virgil was right.
He took his jacket off the hook and went out into the frigid December day. He made his way to the woodshed, found a huge sawn round and lifted the axe, bringing it down with such monumental force it took him moments to work the blade free.
He chopped steadily, until the stack of kindling and firewood was higher by far than the pile of uncut rounds. His shoulders and arms felt as if he’d fought a giant and lost.
It seemed to Zelda that the wedding was no sooner over than Christmas was upon her, and she was determined to make it a memorable one.
She’d resigned herself to the fact that it would be the only one she ever spent with Tom, and she told herself she wouldn’t allow bitter thoughts or regrets to spoil it.
Virgil had told her of his decision and urged her to make her own, regardless of him. He wouldn’t explain, even though she’d wept and argued and pleaded with him. He’ been unyielding.
So there was really no decision for her to make, because, of course, she’d never leave her father, sick as he was.
It felt as if she had a stone inside her chest as she threw herself feverishly into preparations for Christmas.
The Ralstons had spent the previous Christmas in Frank, and it had been lonely. They hadn’t known many people, and money had been in short supply. They’d gone to a singsong at McIntyre Hall on Christmas Eve, but they’d spent Christmas Day alone, just the three of them, eating the chicken she’d roasted.
This year, everything was different.
The festivities had begun early in December with a sleigh ride organized by Smiley Williams for all the men on his crew and their families. That was followed in quick succession by parties and dances and community potluck suppers, as well as a snowy expedition one afternoon with Lars and Isabella and the children to cut and bring home Christmas trees.
Sundays all during December had been filled with friends dropping by or invitations to visit, and both Joe Petsuko and Augusto Rossi had been adamant that Tom and the Ralstons join their families for Christmas dinner. But Zelda had gracefully refused, explaining that she’d already promised Isabella they’d come next door and celebrate the holiday with her and Lars and the children.
The Zalcos were also invited, and Leona spent Christmas Eve day in the Ralstons’ kitchen with Zelda, cutting out and decorating gingerbread men for Eddy and Pearl, baking pumpkin pies and cooking a huge ham as their contribution to the meal the following day.
Eli and the men had been warned they were expected to help, but it turned out there were simply too many bodies in one small, overheated room.
Zelda sent Tom out for buckets of coal, and when Eli and Jackson had suffered their way through an enormous stack of dirty dishes, she relented and ordered them all out of the kitchen.
Within three minutes, Eli was out the door, going skating with his friends.
“Are you sure we can’t help, ladies?” It was pitifully obvious that Jackson was praying Zelda wouldn’t change her mind and decide she needed them after all.
“Go!” she snapped.
The three men let out relieved sighs and all but raced into the parlor with a bottle of Augusto’s best red wine and a deck of cards, insisting they were going to teach Virgil to play poker. In a short while, male guffaws and pipe smoke were floating down the hallway.
“Thank goodness.” Zelda sighed with relief. “Tom and Jackson are just too large to have under underfoot, and it’s impossible to have a conversation with you with those men around. Now, let’s have a cup of tea before we do anything else, and you can tell me exactly what it’s like, being in a delicate condition. Sit down here and put your feet up on this box. Do you have any idea when the baby is due?” She was proud of herself for maintaining a cheerful façade.
“May. I went to see Dr. Malcolmson, and he said the second or third week in May.” Their eyes met. Many times over the past weeks, they’d discussed the Slide that Tom and Jackson insisted was inevitable. Zelda had told Leona about Tom’s invitation and Virgil’s refusal.
“At least the baby will still be safely inside me for the trip,” Leona said now.
Zelda managed a laugh. “You make it sound like you’re planning nothing more than a buggy trip to Lethbridge.”
Leona laughed too. “That’s because I truly don’t believe there’s much chance of this absurd scheme working, but if Jackson wants to try, I’m going where he goes. We’re going,” she corrected, patting the bulge under her apron. “I do wish you’d consider coming up there with us that night, Zel, just in case it does work. Think of the adventure.”
Zelda kept her eyes on her teacup. “I couldn’t leave Dad. It might be different if he was feeling well, but his cough gets worse by the week. And there’s Eli.”
Leona made an exasperated sound. “I do wish Tom would come to his senses and just stay here with you then.”
How often had she wished that herself?
“He can’t,” Zelda said, and changed the subject before the agony under her cheerful façade broke through. “Besides, I plan to do whatever I can to get as many people as possible out of town that night, out of the way of the Slide. Tom and I have already tried to warn people of what’s going to happen, but they don’t believe us. Tom patiently explained the whole thing to Joe and Augusto and the others, to absolutely no avail.”
Leona grimaced. “I know. It seems no one will listen. Ever since Jackson told me about it, I’ve been trying to convince everyone I talk to, the miners, the saloon girls, that the mountain’s going to topple over in April. They all laugh and say I’ve been listening to too many Indian stories, or else they look at me as though I’m some kind of witch.” Leona shivered. “Let’s not think of it just now. Let’s think of Christmas instead.”
Zelda agreed wholeheartedly. “You’ve still not told me what if feels like, having a child growing inside of you.”
“It’s the strangest thing. He moved for the first time just last week. Oh Zelda, it was thrilling, like a tiny bird, fluttering around in there, and suddenly I realized there’s a real and separate person, growing inside of me. I’m not ill in the morning any longer, which is a blessing, but my middle’s expanding. One can’t help but think about the birth itself.” She shuddered.
“Something the size of a fully grown baby is going to pinch coming out. Common sense tells one that, at least.” She added, “I don’t have anyone to ask questions. When I asked about labor, Dr. Malcolmson patted me on the head as if I was an idiot and mumbled about nature taking its course. Nature is all well and good, but I want details. I want to know exactly what to expect, even though I know full well it won’t be pleasant.”
“Why not ask Isabella? Her English is much improved, and she’s been through it twice herself.”
Leona considered the suggestion. “She seems very shy. She might be shocked into having the vapors if I ask the things I need answers to.”
Zelda shook her head. “I don’t think so. We’ve become close friends, and Isabella’s actually very practical.”
Zelda thought of a recent conversation she’d had with her neighbor concerning birth control. Isabella had hemmed and hawed, blushed crimson, and finally blurted out that she didn’t want to become pregnant, and she knew that Zelda had handed out leafl
ets at women’s meetings on the subject. Zelda had given the other woman the pamphlets and several of her own sponges, as well as an address where she could mail order more.
“Is there any news of her husband?” Leona knew that Isabella and Lars had been trying to locate Nestor Vandusen so Isabella could get a divorce and marry Lars.
Zelda shook her head. “Not a trace. I’ve helped her write queries for the eastern papers, and the North West Mounted are still trying to locate him, but there hasn’t been a single response.”
“That’s such a shame, because she and Lars are obviously in love. He’s wonderful with the children, but, of course, I suppose everyone’s gossiping about them living in the same house alone together.”
“Let them gossip,” Zelda said vehemently. “No one bothered to say anything when Nestor was beating her senseless four times a week.”
“Except you, my dear Zelda.” Leona gave her a fond smile. “Jackson told me how he first met you, how you ended up in jail because you petitioned against Hugo Bateman for selling spirits to Vandusen.” Leona looked at Zelda with open admiration in her eyes. “You’re the most honest, compassionate woman I’ve ever met, and the bravest. I know Isabella thinks so, and all the saloon girls sing your praises to the skies.”
“I’ll be sure to use them as character referrals the next time Corporal Allan throws me in jail,” Zelda said wryly, but she was deeply touched by Leona’s words. They were balm, however slight, to the terrible hurt of knowing that Tom didn’t love her enough to want her with him for a lifetime. If he did, he wouldn’t want to leave.
A Distant Echo: Chapter Twenty-Nine
This Christmas Day was the best Tom ever had.
Not that there was much to compare it with, he thought as everyone was squeezed at last around the laden table in Isabella’s kitchen the following afternoon.
Now and Forever: Time Travel Romance Superbundle Page 87
