by Susan Finlay
Helmut said, “Sofie, we would be honored to have you ride alongside Peter and me.”
She strode over to them.
As they pulled away, Ingrid watched the riders ahead of them and wondered what they talked about. Before long, though, she was too busy chatting with Johanna to think about that.
When the conversation died down, Ingrid mused about Werner. How long had it been since she’d last seen him? Think. Ah, it was a few days after she had celebrated her eighth birthday—she remembered that because it was also his birthday, his eighteenth, and he’d received his draft notice during the quiet birthday party that suddenly turned morbid. She tried to remember his face, but it was mostly a blur now, after sixty-eight years. Every day that he was away, fighting, she would pray for him to make it back home. Then one day—five months after he’d left, she walked in the front door of their house after school and slapped her books down on the kitchen table, as usual, only this time, when she looked up to ask her mother for a glass of milk, her mother was crying. She had received notice earlier that day that Werner was killed in action.
Their father, a career soldier in the Nazi party, wasn’t home at the time, which had been a blessing in Ingrid’s mind. The man always drank and beat her, her mother, and Vikktor, when he was home. That’s probably why her mother was always meek and afraid and withdrawn. Maybe that’s why Ingrid had stepped up and became the main caregiver in the family, trying to help give herself and her siblings some sense of security and love.
She shoved the unpleasant thoughts from her mind and focused her attention on the scenery in front of her. It was a superb day. The sky was a deep blue with fluffy white clouds floating through the crisp autumn air and it made her smile. She could almost see herself and all three of her brothers playing in a field similar to this one near their childhood home, back when Werner was fifteen, Vikktor nine, Christophe, three, and she five. On those rare occasions when Werner wasn’t busy with his friends, doing homework, or his chores, they would play tag or hide-and-seek or just lie in the grass, hands behind their heads, watching the clouds go by and describing the images they recognized in the clouds.
Elizabeth, the poor dear, hadn’t lived long enough to really get to play in the field with them. What had happened to her was still a mystery to Ingrid. The two-year-old twin sister of Christophe had been fine the day before, and then in the morning when her mother went to get her out of her crib to dress her, she’d found her stone cold body. Such a pity. That was during one of the dreaded periods when their father was home, and Ingrid had always wondered if Elizabeth had died by his hands. Tears clouded Ingrid’s eyes. Elizabeth had been such a beautiful child who loved everybody, who should have lived a full life, who should have been a forever friend to her twin brother, and she was gone just like that, as if she’d never been there at all. Life could be very cruel.
Ingrid had often imagined what Elizabeth would have looked like if she’d lived. It had been easy, at least for the first ten or fifteen years. Maybe because she had helped take care of her sister for those two years and had felt motherly toward her even though they were only two years apart in age.
Werner had been more difficult to imagine growing and changing. Probably because he was ten years older than her and she hadn’t spent as much time with him. Of course, as a teen, he hadn’t wanted his kid sister tagging along when he went out with friends. He’d barely tolerated his younger brother doing so. She’d tried to picture him growing older, and looking like Vikktor, but she didn’t really think they ever looked much alike. Werner was the one the girls had swooned over. Vikktor was the average-looking one that people tended to look past.
Now, as she tried to imagine Werner as an eighty-six-year-old man, she couldn’t do it. He was still the blond-haired man in the soldier’s uniform, as she’d seen him the day he left for service to his country.
The riders in front of them stopped suddenly, jerking her out of her thoughts. Helmut got down and jogged back to where they were waiting. “We rest for a while here and let the horses eat.”
Ingrid sat down in the grass beside Helmut. “I can barely remember Werner,” she said. “How did you find him? How did you know he was here in the past?”
“I came through one of the portals near Riesen and was terrified. I didn’t know what had happened, so I walked into town. It became apparent to me that somehow I’d time traveled. Without a way to get back, I had tried to find work and a place to live.”
She reached over and hugged him. “I know how that feels. It’s terrifying.”
“I found a job at the stable, and the blacksmith took an interest in me. I thought he looked familiar, like your brother in your old photographs. Somehow, we got to talking about family and we figured out that we were related.”
“Did he take you into his home?”
“Not at first. I slept in the stable for a few months, but as we got to know each other, he and his wife invited me to stay with them for a while.”
Neither of them spoke for a few minutes.
Ingrid said, “Did Vikktor send Werner through the portal?”
“Nein. Werner came here first. That’s all I know.”
First? How did he get here? That didn’t make any sense. “He didn’t tell you anything more?”
Helmut shook his head, his eyes looking straight ahead and avoiding her gaze.
A thought came unbidden. He’s hiding something. He knows more than he will say. There’s more going on here.
When they started traveling again, Ingrid asked Johanna if she’d ever met her great-uncle.
“I think so. Peter and I were young, maybe five or six. We visited them in Riesen. Tante Gretchen was nice. She baked bread and torts and let us eat extras.”
Johanna continued, telling her stories from her childhood. Ryan actually understood some of what she said, and for a while, they seemed to almost forget that Ingrid was present.
The gait of the horse, and the midday sun, made her drowsy. Ingrid closed her eyes and tried to sleep, but images of Werner in his soldier uniform kept appearing.
MAX INTRODUCED KONRAD in broken German to his daughter, Lisa, and his ex-wife, Jenny. The look on Konrad’s face was priceless. After that, they helped the women out of the cave, which wasn’t easy because both of them were weak, dehydrated, and had badly scraped arms, legs, and palms, and practically had to be carried. Holding a torch in one hand while half carrying an adult was no small feat. The outside brightness, after being stuck in pitch blackness for who knew how long, nearly blinded both women and both cried. Max wasn’t sure if they were in pain or relieved. He reached out and hugged Lisa again, but couldn’t bring himself to do the same with Jenny. Not after their difficult divorce a little over a year ago. She got everything—their house, half their money, their kids, plus alimony and child support up until he disappeared four months ago. That loss of income might have had something to do with her traveling overseas to look for him and Ryan.
“Max, you look really different,” Jenny said, after she and Lisa had drunk more of the water Max and Konrad had brought with them and while resting in the grass and breathing fresh air again. “You look more like a pioneer. I would never have pictured you like this. What is going on? Where are we?”
“Well, I’m afraid that’s going to take some explaining. Maybe we should head to the village where I live and get you both some food and fresh clothes.” They both nodded. “Then I will tell you everything that I know.”
They started walking, and Jenny tripped over a stone.
“You’re wearing high heels?” Max said, realizing the fact for the first time. “My God, Jenny. How the hell did you get around inside the cave in those?”
“On hands and knees, mostly.” She gave him a dirt smudged smile. “We could barely see anything. When we tried walking, we both kept hitting our heads on the ceiling, or tripping over rocks and stalagmites and who knows what else. It was difficult crawling, but safer in the long run.”
“Yikes
. That sounds awful.”
“It was no picnic, believe me. We thought we were going to die in there and that maybe someday some cave spelunkers would find our skeletons. Not exactly my idea of how to become famous.”
“Yeah, I myself hate pitch black places,” Max said, not mentioning his claustrophobia. “Not being able to see gives me the creeps. That’s about the last place I would want to die.” He shivered involuntarily. He’d had trouble in his cave when he’d time traveled, and he was only in the cave for a little while before they found the exit. At least when they went back inside to explore, he had an easier time because he knew the way out.
The walk back to Lotte’s cave where they’d left the horses seemed longer than Max remembered, probably because he was tired and the women were setting a slow pace. Of course he couldn’t blame them, not when he thought back to his first couple of days here and remembered how much the emotional upheaval had taken a toll on him and his companions.
“Dad, can we please stop and rest. My legs feel like they have ankle weights strapped to them.”
“Soon. We’re almost there.”
When they arrived at the cave a few minutes later, Max observed that the cave entrance was more visible from this angle.
Jenny blurted, “Oh no, we’re not going inside another cave. Forget it. I don’t ever want to enter another cave.”
“Don’t worry,” he said, chuckling. “We’re not. Our horses are nearby.” Before he finished his last sentence, he spotted the two horses resting in a shady area, Konrad’s munching grass and his pawing the ground. “Lisa can ride with me.” He looked at Konrad and asked if Jenny could ride on his horse with him.
Konrad nodded.
“Wait, you expect us to ride those horses?” Jenny asked.
“Yeah, unless you’d rather walk. Or spend the night in that cave. Suit yourself.”
“Mom, it could be fun riding a horse. I’m tired. I don’t think I could walk much further, anyway.”
Jenny huffed, stopped in front of the horse, took off her shoes, and holding them with one hand, let Konrad boost her onto the horse.
A short time later, they arrived at the village and Max said, “Welcome to Möbius.”
The two females stared at the village, their eyes practically bugging out.
“OMG, Dad! This looks like a Renaissance Festival.”
He said, “It’s not. Try not to make a spectacle. I’ll explain everything after we see if we can get you some food. I’m assuming you’re hungry.”
“Well, yeah, starving.”
“Just don’t expect a gourmet meal here. We’re pretty basic.”
After helping the women off the horses, Konrad and Max escorted them into the village. Konrad took the reins and led the horses toward the corral.
The men, finishing clean-up around the construction site for the night, walked toward the trio, obviously curious about Max reappearing with two female strangers, and enthusiastically greeted them. The women, apparently hearing the horses and voices, came rushing outside to see who had arrived.
Max made introductions, both in German and in English. As soon as the curious crowd wound down, he asked if any food was available for their guests.
Konrad’s wife, Ulla, volunteered to prepare something—leftovers from dinner, she told them—and motioned for them to follow her into the kitchen. Konrad followed the four into the communal kitchen in.
In short order, Ulla placed four plates of bread, jam, fruit, and cold meat, along with tankards of beer in front of each of them. Max joked about it being ‘mystery’ meat, causing Lisa to laugh and Jenny to stop her fork momentarily, until Ulla told them it was lamb, which then made Lisa complain about killing some poor little lamb. Both men chuckled at Lisa’s pout. Digging in, Konrad grinned ear-to-ear, lifted his mug of beer, and then said, in German, you know me too well, woman. Max had learned enough German to figure out what he’d said.
After they finished eating, Max led Jenny and Lisa to his cabin. “We can talk here without worrying about anymore overhearing us.” As soon as the words came out, he wanted to smack himself on the forehead. Why would he say something stupid like that? Most everyone in the village knew only bits and pieces of the English language. Oh, well. He shrugged it off and acted as if it made sense, because Lisa and Jenny didn’t know who spoke English and who didn’t. No sense making a big deal out of it.
He sat in a chair he’d built and motioned for them to sit, as well. “Uh, I’m not sure how to begin. If you hadn’t gone through the portal for yourselves, you wouldn’t believe any of what I’m about to tell you. But you must know by now, after seeing all of this,” he said, waving his hand in the air, “that you aren’t in Kansas anymore, as they say.”
“That’s an understatement,” Lisa said, slouching in her chair. “Where are we? I didn’t see any rainbows. In fact it was cloudy and looking like it might snow at any moment when we got to your grandma’s house. You know, like when we visited Mom’s parents in Minnesota and you could almost feel the snow in the air even though none was coming down yet.”
Well, here goes. Max shook his head, understanding what she was saying. He took a deep breath and blew it out. This was almost as bad as when his mother had to tell her younger kids about her time traveling from the future. They’d thought she’d lost her mind at first.
“Okay, you know all those sci-fi movies we watched back when you and Ryan were in middle school and high school—not the ones with aliens and spaceships, but the ones with people who time traveled? Well, they’re not as farfetched as we thought.”
Neither of the two responded for several moments, just looking incredulous. “Oh, come on, Max,” Jenny said. “You’re telling us we’ve all time traveled?”
“Afraid so. Traveled back to the year 1789.” He leaned forward. “Look, I know it’s hard to swallow. Believe me. It took me a while to accept where we are and I’m the ultimate sci-fi geek. This is not some reversionist cult village. We have been to many of the local towns and they convinced us, trust me, you are now in 1789.” He went on to describe the local scenery and culture and explained the little bit that they knew about the time portals. “Look outside. Well, it’s getting too dark now to see much, but I can tell you we are at the location of my grandmother’s cottage, and those workers you saw earlier are helping me build the cottage right now.”
Jenny said, “So where is Ryan? Did he time travel, too?”
Max nodded. “He’s on a short trip, but he’ll be back soon. He lives here in this cabin.”
“So you and Ryan came here the same way?” Lisa asked. “You two must have been terrified, too, like us.”
“We did, and we were.” He hesitated. Damn, it wasn’t going to be easy to tell them about his new family. Of course it wasn’t as bad as when his mother had to tell her new family about her old family. Guess I better get this over. They’ll find out soon, anyway.
He squirmed in his seat and then leaned in closer to Lisa and Jenny. “But we didn’t come alone. Uh, well, we came with a woman, Sofie Sonnenberg, her son Tobias, and her great-aunt, Lotte. We met them in Riesen when we were looking for the house and were having trouble finding it. Anyway, we were all stuck here. Over the four or five months we’ve been here we’ve grown close and, well, Sofie and I are married now. We’re also expecting a baby, though we haven’t announced it yet.”
Lisa’s and Jenny’s mouths both gaped open, and Max looked down at the ground to hide his smile. Damn, that felt good, seeing Jenny look so surprised. After what she’d put him through—cheating on him with her co-worker, moving in with the guy, and talking about marrying him when the divorce became final.
Lisa leaned in close and embraced Max. “I’m excited for you, Dad. You deserve to be happy. Where is your wife and her son?” She glanced around.
Max rubbed his beard. “It’s a long story. Ryan, Sofie, and Lotte—uh, Ingrid—are away on a trip.” He choked up for a moment, then said, “Tobias, our ten-year-old son, has gone missin
g. Konrad and I were searching for him. That’s why we were in that cave today. We thought maybe he’d gone cave exploring.”
“OMG! That’s terrible,” Lisa said. “How long has he been missing?”
“A day. It’s not that long, I know, but he’s never been away from home that long and he didn’t take his pet cat with him. That sounds lame, but he takes her with him everywhere. They’re practically inseparable.”
“Do you think . . . is it possible . . . I mean, could he have time traveled back?”
Max shrugged. He couldn’t get any words out. Telling Sofie that her son was missing was going to be bad enough, if they didn’t find him before she returned. Replacing Sofie’s son with his ex-wife and daughter was about the worse thing he could think of. Not that he didn’t like reuniting with his daughter, but how the hell was he going to tell Sofie?
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
KARL LIFTED ANNELIESE onto the seat of a rented wagon, covered her legs with a blanket, and began his drive to her parents’ farm. He couldn’t bring himself to commit her to some asylum as the doctor had suggested, and he couldn’t see drugging her every day. No, maybe an outing would help. Maybe going back to the farm where she’d grown up would help. They hadn’t seen Birgitta’s son and daughter-in-law since before Birgitta’s death. Karl had sent word to them from the inn where she’d died, and they had arrived to bury their mother, but he and Anneliese hadn’t gone to the funeral, because they were in transit and searching for Max and Ryan. It had been too painful a time, anyway, and he hadn’t wanted to deal with their questions. Ja, he was sorry he hadn’t attended his own wife’s funeral, but it was probably better that way. Perhaps now that some time had passed, they could all talk. Of course that was a risk, mostly because he’d confessed to Anneliese and she might tell them. Then what would he do? Would he admit it to them, too, or would he say that she was delusional? The doctor had said she had severe emotional problems, so her story could easily be disregarded.
