Tanglewood Grotto

by Susan Finlay

  He jumped and then froze as the hammering sound resumed, causing Valkyrie to arch her back. “It’s okay, girl. I’ll take care of you.” He stroked her hair, and she calmed down, though his own heart raced. He was further from home than he’d ever been before, and he was reasonably sure now that the noise wasn’t a woodpecker. The sound appeared to be coming from a tangled bunch of dead tree branches to his left, about thirty yards from where they sat.

  Feeling less spooked and a bit bolder, he stood up and headed toward the branches. As he approached the pile of branches, he paused to study them and realized it was some kind of arbor obscuring a cave entrance. Glancing over his shoulder, back towards the route home, he thought about his parents’ warning to stay near the house and stay far away from caves. They worry too much. I’m ten years old now. I can take care of myself.

  He shrugged, took one last look behind him, and then navigated under the arbor and into the cave. Immediately, his eyes struggled to adjust to the almost complete darkness. Tobias crinkled his nose at the moldy smell, drying mud on the cave floor sucking at his shoes. I wish I had one of those flashlights we brought with us.

  Suddenly not so confident, Tobias felt shivers involuntarily shoot through his body, not from the coldness, but from the realization that he was taking a huge risk. He’d seen first-hand the danger caves could hold. What if a bear or feral pig had a home in this cave? The small knife he carried would be no protection. Or worse, what if this cave was connected to his family’s cave—the cave that contained a time portal that had whisked him and his parents, unwillingly, into the past? What if he got sent somewhere else—some ‘time’ else, permanently separated from them? He turned to head out, but a hint of smoke and a small glint of light flashed from behind him, further around a corner inside the cave. Humans, he realized. Carelessly curious, he made his way further back into the cave. Rounding a corner, he could see a small torch leaning against one wall, giving off enough light that he could see a figure. He gasped in surprise at his great-great-aunt, Lotte, who was banging two rocks together.

  She stopped and gaped at him. “Mein Gott, is that you, Tobias? You scared me. How did you find me?”

  “Huh? I . . . I didn’t . . . I mean I thought no one was in here. I heard a hammering sound that led me here.”

  She threw the two rocks down and moved toward him, kicking something forward as she walked. “Come with me, but you must promise to tell no one.”

  “All . . . right.”

  She passed him, still kicking something. As far as he could tell it was some kind of package.

  He followed her further into the cave, and almost bumped into her as she’d stopped suddenly. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  “This is it. More of a hole in the wall than a real cave, unfortunately. But it serves my needs.”

  It looked to be a large cavity, or a rabbit hollow. Valkyrie meowed, appearing out of nowhere, and sat down on her haunches. “What is this place? I smells bad in here.”

  Tante Lotte said, “I thought it was a cave like the one we came through when we time traveled. I hoped it would take me back to the twenty-first century. It didn’t. It kind of reminds me of when you’re eating an apple, find a rotten spot, and scoop out the bad stuff, leaving a hole.” She sighed, picking up the bundle of whatever it was and throwing it onto a blanket, and then picking up a second bundle and doing the same. Once that was done, she picked up her torch to light a fire in a wood pit surrounded by stones in the center of the small room, then hung the torch from a crevice in the wall. “It makes a good hideout. That’s something at least.”

  “Tante Lotte, why were you banging those rocks together?”

  “You’ll laugh.”

  “No I won’t. Promise.”

  “I was trying to see if a portal opened up. You know what I mean, right?”

  He nodded. “Why don’t you come to our little village? Mom and Max would probably let you stay with us.”

  She shook her head.

  “It’s not a real village,” Tobias added. “We call it that because we have lots of little cottages built close together and everyone living there helps each other, like a community.”

  “I have seen it.”

  “You have? Then why didn’t you—”

  She waved her hand. “Your mother doesn’t want me around anymore. She made that clear when we were at Monika’s farm.”

  Tobias knew that his mother got angry with Tante Lotte shortly after they’d arrived at Max’s mother’s farm two months ago. It had taken them a month or maybe two of traveling to find Max’s mother, Monika, who had been trapped in the past for twenty years. Everyone had been tired and edgy, especially after Gramps’s wife, Birgitta, was murdered during their long ride through Bavaria. Then Gramps had confessed to killing Birgitta to protect his great-grandson, Ryan, from Birgitta who was enraged and possibly crazy. Right after that, Tante Lotte had told Tobias’s mother, Sofie, that she was leaving and that she’d lied to her, her entire life. Tante Lotte wasn’t really his mother’s great-aunt, and Lotte’s brother, Vikktor, wasn’t really his mother’s grandfather. Vikktor had kidnapped Sofie when she was a baby living here in the past with parents, and had taken her into the future to raise her. That’s why Lotte wasn’t allowed to live with them anymore. Tobias still wasn’t sure why Tante Lotte had suddenly told his mother all of that, after thirty years of lying about it.

  “She will forgive you,” Tobias said. “I’ll talk to her. I’ve missed you. I think she has, too.”

  Lotte stretched out her arms.

  Tobias rushed forward to hug her, hoping that she would come back with him. He looked up at her face and said, “We have a small cottage that we’re living in until the big house is built. Mom, Dad, Ryan, and me. We can make room for you, or build you your own little cottage. It’ll be better than living in a cave.”

  “I know you mean well, Tobias, but that can’t happen. The Feldgendarms are still looking for me. I would put your family at risk and I won’t do that. I have stayed in the area temporarily because I thought Karl—Gramps, as you call him—might help me find my brother. I found out today that he will not.”

  “Please come back with me. Please.”

  “Nein, little one. I am happy to see you again, Tobias, but you shouldn’t come back here. I will be leaving in a day or two, anyway.”

  “Where are you going?”

  She shrugged.

  “It’s almost dark outside. I have to get home, but I’ll come back tomorrow and bring you some food. You must be hungry, right?”

  She licked her lips, then shook her head. “You cannot risk it.”

  He reached down and picked up his cat. “Valkyrie and I will be here as soon as we can get away. Everyone starts work after breakfast, and I help with clearing away the dishes and leftover food. I can sneak some things into a sack and bring them to you. Don’t worry. No one pays much attention to me. They won’t notice. They’re too busy.”

  “If you are sure it won’t be a problem . . . .”

  MAX HOLLANDER PAINFULLY arched his back, slowly twisting left and then right. Good grief. His damned muscles were tighter and sorer than they’d ever been. He and his friends had cut and hauled timbers into what they’d thought were manageable sizes over the past week, and now he was paying for his labors. He closed his eyes for a moment, wishing the soreness away. Now that the workers’ cottages were finished, they were preparing to start construction on the stone cottage that he’d inherited in the future. Well, actually, cottage now seemed the wrong word to describe it because it was going to be so much bigger than the little cottages they were all living in now. Did it really matter what he called it? Not really, he grunted at the thought, shaking his head. He only knew he was wearing too many hats, being the architect, the planner, the site manager, one of the laborers, and the patriarch of the family. In addition, he still didn’t know enough German and he didn’t have the necessary equipment to do the job properly. He had the drafting skills, but
fell short on labor skills. The worst part was that he hadn’t seen the future house in enough detail, hadn’t paid attention at the time, to know the right dimensions, the exact spot where each of the footers needed to be placed, or how the house sat in relation to the underground cellar and cave. Geez! What was he thinking? He couldn’t pull this off, and if he couldn’t, he would let everyone down and could cause some sort of time-line disaster. Well, he could only do what he could do, and hope the lack of memory detail meant it didn’t matter.

  He glanced around their construction site and makeshift village which they’d named Möbius, after the scientific time travel theory Möbius Strip. It had seemed appropriate since those who knew about the time travel portal underneath the area would ‘get it’ and those who didn’t know would think it was just a German name. He grinned, thinking about the clever name. At least something could make him smile today.

  Sofie and the other women were preparing dinner inside their communal kitchen, while the men were cleaning up before sitting down for dinner. He was alone out here, sitting on a stack of timbers, resting.

  Against the setting sun, he pictured the scene for the thousandth time the way he’d originally seen it back in 2009. The land around the house was part forest and part farmland, with the house—as he remembered it—set slightly into the forest on the right side of the road. The ancient house had been surrounded by a low crumbling old wall made of the same fieldstone as the house, but the wall rose into an archway over a cobbled entranceway. At some point in time a flowering vine of some sort had been cultivated to drape over the stone archway, but had gotten out of control and needed serious pruning. Nearby, apparently part of the house’s property, three cows grazed in a grassy pasture, and a barn and several acres of crops stood basking in the midday sun.

  He’d almost forgotten about building the barn. Karl had brought them two cows and six horses last week, and Max and Sofie planned to trade with local farmers for more animals next year. They would have to build a barn, plant crops, farm the crops, and care for the livestock. Oh, God, he sighed. This was going to be much harder than he’d thought. He’d clearly been insane when he’d told Sofie they could make this work.

  In his mind’s eye, the stone cottage had looked medieval and its steeply pitched thatched roof had moss growing on the wall of irregular stone courses, which had made Max think of some of the old buildings at Harvard, his old college. Most interesting of all was the round turret in the center, housing the arched front door. The house wasn’t a mansion by any means, but was impressive for a medieval cottage. The yard inside the low stone wall was a canvas of old gnarled trees, flowering bushes, and garden blooms in a vivid array, mostly wildflowers, which carpeted most of the ground between the house and wall.

  Well, maybe the reason the house had a thatched roof, which wasn’t common in Germany, was because Max truly was the architect of the house he’d seen in the future. He’d actually helped build a small cottage with a thatched roof back when he was in college. He smiled. Okay, maybe I can do this.

  “Oh, Max, there you are,” Sofie said, drawing him out of his musings.

  “Sorry, am I holding up dinner? I got distracted.”

  “No, not you. But Tobias hasn’t come home. I’m getting worried. His cat isn’t here, either. What if they got lost or . . . ?”

  Max rubbed his beard, not wanting to go out hunting for him. His legs ached and he wasn’t sure he had the energy. But he knew what that ‘or’ meant—she was afraid that they’d stumbled into another time portal and couldn’t bring herself to say it out loud. Sighing again, he said, “I’ll go look for them. Did he tell you where he was going?”

  “He said he was going for a walk. I warned him not to go far. He promised he wouldn’t.” She was wringing her hands, which told Max she was seriously worried.

  Max twisted his mouth. Tobias was getting bored. Max had noticed that over the past few days. The boy was at an age where he was old enough to get himself into trouble and too young to take care of himself if he did. He couldn’t tell Sofie about his concerns, though. She was worried enough already. “Yesterday, he walked around in the woods looking for squirrels and rabbits. Probably did the same. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

  Sofie hugged him, then wrung her hands again, her eyes pleading with him to find her son.

  Max ambled into the woods. The sun was low now, and the woods shadowy, creepy. A few minutes in, leaves rustled and branches crunched. “Tobias, is that you?”

  The cat darted toward him, a mouse clutched between her teeth.

  “Valkyrie, come back!” Tobias yelled. He came running out from behind a copse of bushes and tripped over a fallen tree branch.

  Max rushed forward and pulled him up by the shoulder. “Are you all right, son?”

  “Yeah. Thanks. I thought I’d lost Valkyrie.”

  Max gave Tobias his sternest look, but internally sympathized with the boy’s wanderlust. “Your mother is worried sick. She thought she’d lost you. We better get home. Dinner’s waiting.”

  “I hope they made lots of food. I’m starved!”

  CHAPTER TWO

  IN THE MORNING, Lotte sat in the dark cave, her stomach growling and a blanket hugging her shoulders for warmth. She tried, but was having no luck remembering the last time she’d eaten. Tobias, bless his young soul, had promised to bring her food. She was parched and hoped he would bring something to drink, too. She didn’t like drinking the creek water and worried she would catch some disease or parasite from it. She stood up slowly, using a straight-ish walking stick to help coax her wobbly legs to a standing position. Once her legs began behaving, accepting weight, she attempted to get the fire rekindled. It had almost died out overnight, even though she had placed more wood on it twice during the cool autumn night.

  Before Tobias’s arrival yesterday, she’d tried one last time to make a time portal open before giving up and deciding to unwrap the packages. It wasn’t that she didn’t appreciate the gift of clean fresh clothes that didn’t itch or stink. Her appreciation of such luxuries had grown immensely these last few weeks. It certainly would allow her to blend in better when coming across other people. No, it was just that given a choice, going back to the future and wearing her own clothes that she’d bought in stores and that made her look and feel prettier, were of infinitely higher priority.

  She didn’t know what had given her the idea to pound two stones together as a means of opening a portal. She shook her head, thinking about her stupid idea. She’d already tried everything else she could think of. Karl had once told her and Sofie that he’d been trying to get a portal to work and had tried all kinds of things and then one day ‘poof’, it happened. For Lotte, nothing but wrong cave, wrong stones, wrong something, but no ‘poof’ and no portal. She felt so frustrated. It seemed hopeless sometimes.

  After Tobias left yesterday, she’d opened the first package from Karl and squealed with delight for the first time in months. Skirts, petticoats, whalebone stays, chemises, enough to make four outfits, as Karl had promised, plus one pair of shoes. The second package, which she ripped into, contained a white cap, a cloak, and scarf to keep her warm in winter, a blanket, and some sort of soap, she assumed. None of the clothes were modern, and they would have to be adjusted to fit, but they were clean and smelled better than the garments she’d worn for months.

  She’d laughed like a lunatic as she’d rushed outside to the creek, stripped herself naked, and washed herself off as much as possible, even washing her hair with the chunk of soap Karl had included in the package. Gott, it had felt good to get rid of the dirt, itching, and stink. Then, wrapped in the warm blanket, she’d come back inside the cave and gotten the fire going good and strong so she could dry her hair, except her hair wouldn’t dry completely. It was too damn long and heavy. On impulse, she’d pulled out the knife she’d stolen in Riesen and carefully cut her hair shorter, but tried to not make it too short. She could still style her hair in a bun as many of the women di
d in this century and at least somewhat look like she belonged.

  Now that the fire was warming up the cave again, she dressed in one of her new outfits and for the first time since her banishment, wished she had a mirror. She felt like a new person and she danced around the tiny cave, singing a nonsensical song, until she was too tired to dance. Dropping down onto her bedding, she rolled onto her back and gazed up at the uneven ceiling, smiling, and happy if for only the moment.

  She closed her eyes and breathed in the scent of the soap she’d used to clean herself. Wunderbar! It still smelled like heaven, at least compared to the filth she’d lived with for so long. Hmm, maybe things will improve now that I look decent again.

  Thinking back, Karl had told her she needed to change her identity, too. She tapped her chin and considered the ideas. What should she call herself? Anna? She’d always liked that name. Nein, too similar to Anneliese. Hildegard? Another good name, but nein, that reminded her of her old friend back in school in Berlin. How about Ingrid? She’d never met an Ingrid. That’s it. Hmm, need a surname, too. Wagner. Ingrid Wagner. A widow traveling from Gottingen. Ja, that works.

  She rolled onto her side. After a while she sat up, as the ground, even with the blankets for bedding, was making her back and side hurt. Glancing around the room, she grimaced. How was she supposed to get herself and her meager belongings far away from here without a horse or a wagon? And where was she supposed to go? If Karl was right and Vikktor wanted nothing to do with her, then what? Could she even get a job?

  In her own time she was a retired instructor from a university. Fat chance universities in this century—the year, she knew, was 1789—would hire a woman. What did that leave? Work as a maid in a manor house, catering to rich snobs. She shuddered. Must be something better. How about working as a baker or a seamstress? When Sofie was a little girl, Lotte used to make cute clothes for her. And hadn’t their family and friends always raved about Lotte’s cooking? Of course, cooking methods would take some getting used to, and sewing tools would be limited to needles, thread, fabric, and her bare hands. All right, what else, hmm—ah, gothic romance novels she’d grown up reading always had protagonists who became penniless and had to resort to working as a governess or tutor. They usually fell in love with the widowed father of the children. She smiled. A governess job could work; she’d taught for many years. Oh, ja, she’d taught—but to adults. Who was she kidding? Dealing with children? Not exactly her cup of tea.