Time to Love Again

by Speer, Flora

  “I don’t care one damned bit about your place in history,” Willi ground out between set teeth. “This is my best friend we are talking about. How can you be so cold-blooded? I’d like to wring your neck for setting up a program that would allow this to happen.”

  “Hurting me won’t help India,” Hank gasped. “Come on, now, you know I want this to work even more than you do. It’s my program and if she – if she – aw, Willi, I’m sorry.”

  “You have tried to get her back five times in the thirty minutes since she disappeared,” Willi snapped in the same angry tone she had used before. “What if she’s someplace where she can’t breathe? What if she’s bleeding? Get her back now!”

  “You’re hysterical. I can’t do anything for India until you let go of my hair,” Hank yelled, jerking his head away at the same instant that Willi’s fingers suddenly relaxed their grip. Hank’s forward motion nearly propelled him into a collision with the computer screen. Recovering himself, he smoothed down his hair. “I had no idea you could be this violent,” he said, glancing over his shoulder at her with an injured expression.

  “I’ll give you violent if you don’t correct your stupid mistake,” Willi replied.

  “It’s not entirely my mistake.” Hank was deeply affronted by this suggestion. “I explained before that India did something to my program. But I’m trying to make it right, really I am. I feel at least half responsible for what happened. I just hope she hasn’t forgotten exactly what she did – oh, jeez, Willi, don’t be mad at me.” Hank uttered this plea when Willi shook one finger at him in a menacing way. “I promise I won’t think any more about publishing a paper on this until after it’s over.”

  “I’m not interested in your career path, and I don’t want to hear any more excuses. Push those buttons, damn it! And make sure they’re the right ones this time.”

  But before Hank could begin, there was a tap at the office door. Without waiting for an answer, a white-haired man walked in.

  “Professor Moore,” Willi exclaimed, “what are you doing here on a Sunday?”

  “Looking for my secretary,” he said.

  “India’s not here,” declared Hank.

  “I can see that,” replied the chairman of the Department of History and Political Science. “This is most irregular. When I saw Mrs. Baldwin yesterday afternoon, she told me she would be here today.”

  “She stepped out for a minute,” Hank said. “She should be back soon. We’ll tell her you were looking for her.”

  “Yes. Yes.” Professor Moore looked a bit befuddled. “Do that. I have some last-minute typing for her to do. I’m retiring next week, you know, and with final exams and the holiday coming and all, well, I can’t seem to get anything finished.” With that, he dropped the manila folders he had been holding, the papers scattering out of the folders and across the floor.

  “Here, let me help you,” Willi offered, bending to pick up the sheets and hand them to him. “Hank, can you get the papers that went under the computer?”

  “Yeah, sure.” Hank reached down. “Hey, look at this. Maybe this is the problem.” His attention on the wires leading out of the computer, he absent-mindedly handed the papers to Willi, who passed them on to Professor Moore.

  “You know, in my time,” said the professor, “we tried to find romantic places to make out. Isn’t that what you young people call it nowadays? But you really shouldn’t be doing it in here. Anyone could walk in. I just did, didn’t I, and interrupted you?”

  “You sure did,” said Hank, who was trying to move a section of the computer out from the wall.

  “Now, I would suggest a walk in the woods,” said the professor, “or a romantic movie. I courted my wife at the movies.”

  “Thank you for the suggestions,” said Willi, handing him the last of his papers and gently steering him toward the door. “You’ve been very helpful.”

  “Yes, well, I do try to be broad-minded. Though I must say, some of the activities young people get up to today are scandalous. Now, you will tell Mrs. Baldwin that I’ll need her to do this typing?”

  “I’ll tell her the minute she comes back,” Willi promised. She closed the door behind him and leaned on it, blowing out a long breath of relief.

  “It’s a good thing he’s retiring,” Hank said from in back of the computer section he had moved. “That old coot can barely remember his own name.”

  “Don’t be so disrespectful,” Willi responded with some heat. “He’s a nice man. India likes him very much.”

  “Yeah, well, the new chairman will probably work her butt off,” said Hank. “At least the old guy did some good. When I bent down to get his papers, I noticed something I hadn’t seen before.”

  “What?” asked Willi.

  “Just watch. And stand back,” Hank warned, resuming his chair and reaching for the switch. “If you see a bright glow beginning, get out of the room fast. I don’t want you getting lost in there, too. You’d probably mess things up so completely that I’d never find either of you.”

  He flipped the switch on and began to work at the keyboard. The computer screen slowly brightened until the room was filled with light. Disregarding Hank’s advice, Willi stayed where she was, right behind his chair.

  “Now here,” Hank said, “just at this place in Robert Baldwin’s notes, is where India was working when it happened.”

  Inside the light dim shapes formed, flickered, and reformed.

  “There!” Willi cried, pointing. “Do you see it?”

  “I see.” Hank continued to push keys. “That’s India. Oh, my God, there’s a guy with a sword!”

  “India!” Willi shouted. “India, can you hear me?

  With a loud popping noise, the entire computer shut down. Hank and Willi groaned in unison.

  “What happened this time?” Willi asked, her eyes still glued to the dark screen.

  “The computer has a built-in surge protector that shuts down the machine if too much power enters the co-processor – and it’s a good thing,” Hank said, “because if anything happened to the co-processor, we’d never get India back.”

  “I don’t want to hear another one of your confusing explanations of what that means.” Willi fixed the back of Hank’s head with a stare that ought to have frozen him into total immobility. “Just tell me what we do now.”

  “Now,” he responded wearily, “we start all over. We try again. But, hey, we almost found her. We might have brought her back. That’s a step in the right direction.”

  “Great.” With barely controlled rage and the beginning of real dislike, Willi regarded the man she had until that day believed she loved.

  “Get back to work,” she ordered.

  Chapter 9

  Theu had fallen asleep before the light began to glow inside his house, so it was India, lying awake beside him, who saw it first. It began in the corner where the tray containing his brunia sat atop the wooden box, and her immediate thought was that if something inside the box was on fire, the valuable brunia would be ruined. Fearing she might have to run into the night if the fire spread, she pulled the coverlet off the bed and wrapped it around herself in haste, then went to investigate.

  “What is that?” By this time Theu was awake. India heard the bed creak when he leapt out of it and immediately afterward heard the soft swishing sound of a sword being drawn from its scabbard. Moving swiftly, Theu strode forward to place himself between her and whatever danger had invaded their retreat.

  “Innndiaaa!” The distorted voice came from the very center of the light.

  “Demon, show yourself,” Theu challenged, brandishing his sword. “Come out and fight.” He was crouched in a warrior’s stance, his naked, heavily muscled form outlined in peach-gold by the eerie glow. Intent, wary, poised for instantaneous action, he waited, scarcely breathing. The only response from the light was another long cry.

  “Innndiaaa!”

  Theu took a cautious step forward, lifting his sword a little higher, obviously i
ntending to attack before he and India could be assaulted.

  “Wait.” Her emotions in turmoil, India caught at his arm. “I recognize that peach color. I think Hank has found me.”

  “So soon?” Still holding his sword out to fend off whatever was in the corner of his house, never taking his eyes away from the pulsing light, Theu straightened to put a protective left arm around her. “How can I let you go to him?”

  Torn between conflicting desires, she could not speak. She leaned against him, drawing courage from his unflinching strength.

  “Don’t go. Stay with me,” he urged.

  Before she could answer him, a fearful movement tore through the single-roomed house like an earthquake, the vibration rattling the walls and the door and almost knocking them off their feet. The house went dark except for the glimmering oil lamp on the table and the fading embers in the firepit. Remarkably, there seemed to be no damage, only an echoing silence when the long tremor was over.

  “What has happened here?” Theu demanded. Releasing India, he took a step toward the corner where the mysterious light had been. He moved his sword about, reaching here and there into the corner with it, as if he expected to encounter some obstacle invisible to human eyes.

  “I believe Hank’s attempt at rescue has failed,” India said, unsure whether she was happy or sad about it. Not dropping his sword by even a fraction of an inch, Theu withdrew his gaze from the corner to send a fierce glance in her direction.

  “You need no rescue from me.”

  “Hank doesn’t know that.” Her voice trembled and she felt distinctly shaky, as if she were being pulled in several directions at once. She thought it was more than an emotional reaction on her part. Aware of a strong physical aspect to what she felt, she surmised that Hank had come very close to actually retrieving her.

  “He will try again,” Theu said. “I would, if I thought you were in danger. I would not stop trying until I had you safe beside me once more.” With a final searching look around the house to be sure no perils waited in the shadows, he turned aside to lay his sword upon the table, where it would be within easy reach should he need it. India, still staring at the place where the light had been, did not see him stand with bowed head and clenched fists, keeping his back toward her while he exerted all his will to contain his rage against Hank and his fear of losing her.

  “I wonder why the light appeared in that particular corner,” India said. “Theu, what is in the box?”

  He did not answer for a moment or two. She started to ask the question again, but he came toward her, his face composed and hard, not looking directly at her.

  “Clean sand,” he said.

  “Sand?” she repeated. “Are you serious?”

  “To clean the brunia. I put sand in the tray and rub the links through it to scour away blood or rust or any other dirt.” He paused, then added, “If you are still here tomorrow, I will show you how it’s done.”

  Hearing the pain in his voice, she laid one hand upon his arm. He moved out of her reach, shaking off the touch she had meant to be comforting.

  “Well, if it’s sand and nothing more,” she said, determined not to give way to the tears of confusion now threatening to destroy her fragile composure, “then there can’t be any specific reason why the light appeared in that corner. But I should have known that. If location had anything to do with it, the light wouldn’t have appeared here at all, but in Saxony, where I first landed in this time.”

  “You want to return,” he accused her. “You want to go back to him.”

  “Not to him,” India responded.’! do not love Hank. You believe the rest of my story -believe that, too. Actually, I would like to see Willi again and tell her everything that has happened to me and hear her comments about it all. But except for Willi, there is no one and nothing to draw me back to the twentieth century.”

  “Then stay in this time.”

  “I don’t know if I can. And even if I can, I don’t know if I should. Can I move from one time to another, blindly changing the course of history in ways I can’t even begin to understand, and not pay some terrible price? Or possibly cause people in my own time, or in this time, or in the intervening centuries to pay the price for me?” She watched him shake his head at that, and knew he had no more answers than she had. He was silent and thoughtful for so long that she began to fear he was angry with her.

  “Would you tell your story to someone else?” he asked, the proposal startling her by its suddenness. “Before you answer, consider that there is a benefit to this night’s unpleasant incident. Before it occurred, I believed you because I wanted to believe you. Now I know that you are telling the truth, having seen with my own eyes what happened here, and I can bear witness to your honesty, should any person question it. There are those who would blame that light we saw on witchcraft, but I know one who would at least consider your explanation of it.”

  “It’s possible that the more people who know what has happened to me, the more damage will be done,” she said, wrestling with philosophical and mathematical concepts far beyond her training. “Who is this person?”

  “Alcuin. I know him well enough to ask for his time and his opinion.”

  “The famous scholar?”

  “Charles has ordered him to reform the palace school,” Theu said. “Thus, Alcuin must follow the court, though he hates to travel. We will find him at Agen, with Charles.”

  “He will succeed with the school,” she told him, almost forgetting her own problems in sheer excitement at the possibility of meeting one of the most remarkable men of the period. “More than that, Alcuin will devise and sponsor a style of writing that is so easy to read and write that it will be the basis for handwriting and for machine printing for centuries to come. He’ll invent punctuation, too, and write a prayer that is still used in the churches of my day. I learned it when I was a child – ’Oh, God, to whom all hearts are open, all desires known, and from whom no secrets are hid,”‘ she quoted.

  “He will be happy to know this,” Theu said when she paused for breath.

  “I can’t tell him,” she responded sadly. “I shouldn’t be telling you. Theu, I never considered it before, but can you read and write?”

  “A little. It’s difficult to do.”

  “I’m sure it is. I’ve seen pictures of the old script – lots of strokes above and below the line, and no punctuation at all. It’s a wonder anyone ever became literate. It never occurred to me that you would be.”

  “For the most part, I choose to remember the information I need,” he told her, his words making her once again reassess this man whom she had at first thought was a purely physical creature. “Memorization is easier than writing words down, and parchment can be lost or destroyed. What is in my thoughts remains there. India, will you tell Alcuin your story?”

  “I would like very much to meet him, because I admire him enormously,” she said slowly, thinking over the idea. “After we have talked, then I will decide whether or not to tell him. Does this mean I can go to Agen with you?”

  “There was never any doubt of it. You will have to see Charles because I had to tell him about you in order to make a full report on my foray into Saxony.”

  “Then I’ll meet Charles and Alcuin both,” she said, awed by the prospect.

  “If you are not elsewhere by the time I reach Agen.” He amended her statement in a quiet, matter-of-fact way, but she heard the sadness behind his words and went to him to put her arms around his waist and lay her head upon his broad chest. This time he did not reject her effort to provide comfort, nor did he hide his feelings.

  “How can I live if you are gone?” he asked, folding her in his embrace. “Suppose Ahnk comes again today or later tonight? Will you believe it is your duty to go with him?”

  “I’m not sure I’ll have any choice when the time comes,” she said. “But I have a feeling that whatever will happen, won’t happen immediately. I suspect that Hank has blown a fuse, and possibly burnt out a
new component or two. If that is so, it will take some time for him to make the necessary repairs.”

  Theu had found women’s clothing for India to wear. That was the pile of folded fabric he had brought to his house the previous night and which he shook out for her inspection in the early morning. A coarse linen shift, a faded blue wool gown with rounded neck and short loose sleeves, a belt made of twisted and knotted fibers, and a square of grey wool that could serve as a shawl or short cloak, depending on how it was folded and draped, made up her new wardrobe.

  “It’s a serving woman’s clothing,” he told her, “since there are no noblewomen here from whom I could buy or borrow a gown. I am sorry that I cannot offer you silk or fine wool in some beautiful color. You deserve better than this, but at least it is clean.”

  “So you really did know I wasn’t a boy before you saw me without my clothes,” she said, fingering the gown.

  “How could any true man not know?” he replied. Winding his hand through her hair, he pulled her close to kiss her. She responded with eagerness and relief.

  After the mysterious light had vanished during the night, he had held her possessively for a time, as if to reassure himself that she would not leave him. But when she felt his body begin to stir into passionate arousal, he left the bed to dress himself and sit in one of the chairs, remaining on guard while she tried to sleep. She thought his sudden reserve was caused by a concern that while they were in the midst of lovemaking, Hank might try again to get her back. This belief was reinforced by the carefully controlled way in which Theu set her aside now. Sighing, she slipped the linen shift over her head and reached for the gown. In silence, Theu cut a wedge of leftover bread and a chunk of cheese and handed the food to her.

  “Talk to me,” she begged. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

  “Only that I must visit Eudon this morning,” he said, “and later begin to make arrangements for horses and supplies for our journey to Agen. Then I ought to speak to the clerics to be certain my report is on its way to Charles.”