"She doesn't think so," Andy said. "In any case, that's not why I wanted to talk to you."
"You have something on your mind?"
Andy tapped some ashes onto the sidewalk.
"As a matter of fact, I do."
"What?"
"It's just a little something I've been thinking about since I left the paper this morning. I stopped by the Standard to work on a story and check the wire. The telegraph has been running nonstop with news from London."
"What news?"
"The king is dead," Andy said. "Old Eddy's ticker finally gave out."
Kevin felt a knot form in his stomach. He knew where the conversation was going.
"That's sad."
"I suppose it is, for the British," Andy said. "I don't know what stirs the Limeys these days and, frankly, I don't want to know. What I do want to know is how a teacher in Wallace, Idaho, predicted the deaths of two prominent individuals."
"They were lucky guesses, that's all."
"I don't think so. Try again."
"There's nothing more to say," Kevin said. "I'm just a guy who gets hunches every now and then. Sometimes I can predict things, sometimes I can't."
Andy blew out some smoke.
"I'd like to believe that."
"Why can't you?" Kevin asked.
"I can't because I think there's more to you than meets the eye."
"What's this all about?"
"I'll tell you," Andy said. He paused for a moment and put out his cigar. "A friend of mine, an old chum from Boston College, wrote to me in March to inform me that he had accepted a faculty position at the university in Seattle. He's a science man, just like you. When I wrote back, I naturally asked a few questions about you."
"You did?"
"I did."
"What did you ask him?"
"I asked, among other things, what your professors and peers thought of you. I was certain that a man like you would have left a big mark."
"It's a university, Andy. Not everyone leaves a large mark at a large school."
"You're right. Most people don't leave a large mark, but they do leave at least a small one. My friend wrote back this week. He told me that no one he has met at the university has heard of you. He said he spoke to all of his colleagues and a few senior students."
"I see," Kevin said.
"Care to tell me who you really are?"
"You want the truth?"
"As a newsman, I prefer that to fiction."
Kevin sighed and looked away, toward the still busy street. If Andy wanted the truth, he'd give him the truth. It's not like he was ashamed of it. He returned to his interrogator.
"OK. I'll give it to you. My name is Kevin Johnson, and I really did attend the university. I graduated with a degree in astronomy and earth sciences, only I graduated in the spring of 2013 and not the spring of 1909. I come from an age where you can fly across the Pacific in ten hours and instantly send photos and text to anyone with a device that fits in your hand. I've lived most of my life in the twenty-first century and traveled here through a time portal I can access only when the moon is full," Kevin said in an agitated voice. "What do you think of that?"
Kevin studied Andy's face. He expected anger but didn't find it. He looked for laughter but didn't find that either. He instead saw the hardest of hard-nosed reporters break into a smile.
"What do I think? I'll tell you what I think. I think I'm talking to a man who wants to keep his past private and his secrets secret," Andy said. "I apologize for the intrusion, Kevin. I meant no offense. Your affairs, past or present, are none of my business."
Kevin laughed to himself as he pondered Andy's conclusion. He could live with that.
"Thank you, Andy."
"Forget it. Let's go get a drink and discuss Sadie and Sarah."
The two men rose from the bench and started toward the Shooting Star. A moment later, Andy put a hand on Kevin's shoulder and patted it twice.
"So you're a time traveler?"
Andy laughed.
"You belong on the stage, my friend."
CHAPTER 47: KEVIN
Saturday, May 14, 1910
In a corner of the country built on speculation, hunches, and risk, few propositions posed more problems for planners than a picnic in May. This was particularly true, Kevin thought, in an age before Doppler radar and other modern weather-forecasting tools.
So when Sarah had proposed celebrating his birthday with a picnic, Kevin had been quick to offer an alternative should Mother Nature prove uncooperative. As it turned out, Plan B, a night on the town, had not been necessary. The weather all day had been spectacular.
"Did you enjoy your dinner, Mr. Johnson?" Sarah asked with a grin.
"I did," Kevin said. "I enjoyed it even more knowing that you did the cooking."
Sarah put her hands on her hips.
"You expected someone else?"
"I feared someone else."
Sarah stared at him incredulously.
"Bertha's a fine cook."
"I know she is," Kevin said. "I just wasn't up for smiling pork tonight."
Sarah laughed.
"You're incorrigible."
"It's my best quality. Did Bertha hover over you like a mother hen all day?"
"Hover is not the right word. She mostly gave me a lot of advice."
"This I have to hear."
"She told me twice that the way to a man's heart is through his stomach."
"She did, huh?"
"She did. Bertha was adamant about that. She also said that the surest way to incur a man's scorn is to cook up a calamity. She almost lost George when they were courting by serving him an overdone meatloaf."
Kevin chuckled. He couldn't imagine a time when an overdone meatloaf could have doomed a relationship, but then, until three months ago, he couldn't have imagined a lot of things. He certainly couldn't have imagined spending a birthday with a Gibson girl on a gently sloping bank of the Coeur d'Alene River in 1910.
He leaned back, spread his arms across a large blanket, and took in a scene that was just about perfect. In the distance, an increasingly dark and starry sky loomed over symmetrical peaks that looked more like the pyramids at Giza than the foothills of the Rockies. In the foreground, low bushes, tall grass, and an array of wildflowers hugged each side of the slow-moving river, which made just enough sound to compete with a steady chorus of crickets.
Thirty minutes later, after they had put the chicken salad, bread, cheese, and pie in a basket and placed the cork back on a bottle of wine, they settled into a deliciously comfortable silence. Kevin loved moments like these, even if he had known precious few in twenty-two years – or twenty-three on the time-travel calendar.
"Thanks for doing this, Sarah. I can't imagine a better birthday present."
"I'm glad you approve," she said. "I must admit I didn't know what else to do. I couldn't think of an appropriate gift. You mean the world to me, but I haven't known you long. The stores are not filled with gifts for men who are more than friends but not quite something else."
Kevin placed his right hand on her left.
"This is better than anything from a store. It shows imagination. It shows you like me."
Sarah smiled.
"Was there ever a doubt?"
"No. You've been clear about that."
Both laughed.
"You're hopeless."
"I thought I was incorrigible."
She laughed again.
"That's what this English teacher calls a distinction without a difference."
"I call it that too."
Sarah smiled. She took a breath, tightened her grip on his hand, and gazed at him with thoughtful eyes. After a minute of studying his face, she picked up where she had left off.
"I wanted to do more than make you a nice dinner, Kevin. I wanted to make a statement."
Kevin lifted her hand and kissed it.
"You did that at the bowling alley."
"I know. I wanted
to make an impression there too."
"So why the encore?"
Sarah paused for a moment as she gazed at the horizon. The night sky had morphed from dark blue to a purplish black in a matter of minutes.
"I felt the need to do more. I didn't want to leave room for doubt in our relationship," she said. "I didn't want you to do something foolish like leave Wallace without knowing how I feel."
Kevin leaned forward and kissed her softly on the lips.
"Do you really think I'd leave you even now?"
Sarah sighed.
"I don't think so, but I'm not sure. I'm not very good at reading people, and I'm definitely not good at reading men."
"Well, you can read this one. I'm not going anywhere."
Kevin meant every word, but he realized, almost immediately, that he had just painted himself into a corner. What if Sarah did not want to leave with him? What if she valued her family and her familiar world more than any one man? Would he consider the unthinkable and give her up? Would he consider the really unthinkable and stay?
"What if Principal Morrison does not keep you on after this year?" she asked.
"Let's worry about that if and when that time comes."
Sarah brightened.
"I like that idea."
Kevin felt her shiver and pulled her close.
"Are you getting cold?"
"I'm all right."
"Let me get the other blanket."
Kevin got up and walked about fifty feet to a dirt road, where he had left a horse and buggy belonging to George Marshall. He pulled a wool blanket from a compartment in back and returned to his girl, who had resorted to rubbing her arms.
"You're cold."
"I guess I am."
Kevin sat down next to Sarah and threw the blanket over their shoulders. The temperature may have reached eighty degrees during the day, but it was falling fast. Spring had stopped its march toward summer and was now retreating toward winter.
"Is that better?"
Sarah nodded.
"The stars are beautiful. I never really paid that much attention to them until Shoshone County High School hired a science teacher who could tell me about them. Perhaps that science teacher could tell me more."
"I'd be glad to," Kevin said. He pointed to a spot in the sky. "Do you see that crazy thing right there that looks like an animal on the move?"
"I do."
"That's Ursa Major. It's also known as the Great Bear, though, as you can see, it's a bear that hasn't eaten in about a month."
Sarah smiled.
"That's only the half of it too," Kevin said. "Look at the body and the tail of the bear. Do they ring a bell?"
"I know this. Give me a minute."
Kevin held up his wrist as if checking his watch.
"I'll give you thirty seconds."
"Don't rush me," Sarah said in a scolding voice. "I'll get it."
Kevin chuckled.
"It's the Big Dipper."
"Well done, Miss Thompson."
"My father used to point out the Big Dipper to me as a young girl," she said. "I loved going out with him at night after the dishes were done. He is a learned man, much like you."
"I'd like to meet him sometime."
"Maybe you will."
"Let's try something more challenging," Kevin said. He pointed in another direction. "Do you see that constellation over there, the one that looks like an M or an upside down W?"
"I think so."
"It's right there. Follow my finger."
"I see it now."
"What's that?" Kevin asked.
"It's a consonant."
Kevin laughed and then sighed. If he didn't love this woman before, he did now.
"Yes, Sarah, it's a consonant. Stargazers, though, call it Cassiopeia."
"Cassiopeia was the wife of King Cepheus in Greek mythology."
"Are you sure?"
Sarah beamed.
"I'm very sure."
"That's good, because I haven't a clue."
Both laughed and settled into each other's arms.
"You're quite a man, Mr. Johnson."
"You're not so bad yourself. In fact, I would compare you favorably to our fleeting friend over there," he said, pointing to the dirty snowball that was as bright as ever.
Sarah withdrew from Kevin and folded her arms.
"So I'm a comet now? I thought I was your moon."
Kevin chuckled and pulled her close.
"You're both, either, and all of the above."
He kissed her tenderly and met her eyes.
"Right now, Sarah Thompson, you're my whole blasted universe."
CHAPTER 48: KEVIN
Kevin took Sarah home at ten thirty. He wanted to push the evening past midnight, but he knew that Bertha would have a fit if a young lady under her care came sneaking into her house in the wee hours of the morning.
After walking Sarah to the door and kissing her good night, Kevin liberated General Meade, George Marshall's horse, from the buggy and led him into his stall behind the house. Thanks to Sadie, he had become comfortable around horses and looked forward to more equine adventures in an age where the horseless carriage was just coming into its own.
Kevin then returned to Maude's via Bank Street, taking twenty minutes to cover eight blocks instead of the usual ten. He wanted to see more of the stars, watch others enjoy themselves on a Saturday night, and savor the best date of his life.
As he crossed Sixth Street and tipped his hat to three couples leaving the moving-pictures theater, he mentally revisited three incredible months and tried to make sense of it all. He had done more than have a jolly good time in 1910. He had found the woman he wanted to marry.
Kevin knew that he needed more time, of course. He knew he would not be able to simply grab Sarah's hand and run through the portal in ten days. He would have to gain her complete trust and convince her that he was worth giving up everything she had ever known, including a family that she would probably never see again. That was a tough sell in any time.
When he finally reached the house on King Street, he entered quietly, hung his jacket and hat on familiar hooks, and walked slowly through a dark entry to the base of the stairs. He didn't expect to see Maude or Sadie. They typically retired at ten. Andy was a different matter. He could usually be found smoking a cigar in the living room on nights that he wasn't out and about.
Kevin wondered what his friend was up to when he suddenly got an answer to his question. He heard laughter drift out of Maude's first-floor bedroom and work its way to the stairs. He heard the voice of Andy O'Connell. The time traveler laughed to himself.
I guess that solves that mystery.
He put his hand on the rail and ascended the stairs as silently as he could. When he reached the second floor, he turned into the hallway and saw something he had not expected to see: light. Soft light spilled into the typically dark corridor from Sadie's half-open door. Kevin moved quietly toward his room but didn't make it ten feet before he heard Sadie call out.
"Kevin, is that you?"
Kevin stopped in front of Sadie's door. He could see part of an ornate hardwood dresser and an illuminated wall but not much else.
"It's me."
"You can open the door."
"Are you dressed?" he asked.
"Yes, I'm dressed."
Kevin realized in hindsight the pointlessness of his question. Sadie would have never given him permission to open the door were she not dressed. At least he didn't think so.
He opened the door fully and saw that she was indeed appropriately attired – or at least appropriately attired according to the standards of 2013. He wasn't sure whether single men in 1910 were supposed to see single women in lacy white nightgowns, but he quickly concluded that it didn't matter. He was already in her room.
"I thought you'd be asleep by now," Kevin said.
"I couldn't sleep."
Sadie brushed her long black hair in front of a mirrored vanity.
"I'm sorry to hear that."
Sadie placed her wood-handled brush on the vanity and flipped her hair over two delicate shoulders. She glanced at the mirror a few more seconds, pulled her bare feet from under the table, and slowly pivoted to face Kevin. She offered him a sad smile.
"How was your night?"
"It was nice. How was yours?"
"It was all right. I played chess with Andy and read poems to Maude."
"It sounds like fun," Kevin said.
Sadie gazed at him for a moment, tightened her smile, and lowered her eyes.
"Like I said, it was nice."
Kevin looked at Sadie with unbridled awe. He had seen her maybe a hundred times but never like this. She was as beautiful as ever, of course, but suddenly beautiful in a different way.
In a matter of weeks, Sadie Hawkins, spirited small-town girl, had blossomed into a woman – a woman who seemed wise and mature beyond her nineteen years. Kevin truly envied the man who would someday become her husband.
"Are you planning to go to church tomorrow?" he asked.
Sadie nodded.
"I baked some treats for the Sunday school classes. I have to be there at eight."
"Then I should probably let you get some rest."
"Let me give you something first," she said.
Sadie got up from her chair and walked to the far side of her canopy bed. She picked up a slim box that sat atop a nightstand, walked around the bed, and continued to the door.
"Take this. It's your birthday present."
Kevin accepted the gift, gave it a slight shake, and then returned his attention to Sadie.
"Please tell me you didn't spend a lot of money."
"I didn't spend a dime. I'm giving you something I own."
Kevin smiled and shook his head. He didn't know what she had put in the box, but he knew by looking at her face that it was something she valued.
He removed the top of the box and pulled out what looked like a beaded rawhide sheath. Inside the sheath was a foot-long knife with a forged steel blade and a bone handle.
"Where did you get this?" Kevin asked as he held the knife to the light of a lamp.
"I got it from my father. He gave it to me for my seventeenth birthday. He knew I had no use for a knife but he wanted me to keep it as an heirloom," she said. "When my father died, I kept it in a safe place. I didn't want Mr. Pierce to get his hands on it."
The Fire (Northwest Passage Book 4) Page 21
