by Alex Myers
“You look like you have something to ask me.”
He deliberately made her wait. “What I’m trying to say…” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, dark blue velvet covered box. He opened it and pulled out a ring. “What I’m trying to ask is… will you marry me?”
He first saw the answer on her face, then heard her sweet words. “Oh yes, I do know now… I love you, too.”
“It’s nice to finally hear you say it. That wasn’t so hard, was it?” Jack said.
“I understand how you can think that I’m crazy. Thank you for putting up with me and showing me that you'll always be there for me, no matter what. I want to do the same for you. Of course I’ll marry you, Jack.”
He placed the engagement ring on her finger and asked the waiter to bring out the champagne he had ordered earlier and had sitting on ice. “I’m so happy.”
She admired the look of the ring on her finger. “When did you get this? And how did you know what size?”
“I tried on one of your other rings and it just barely fit over the first knuckle of my pinky finger, I figured out the size from that. I bought the ring in New York over a month ago. I was going to give it to you the night we had our argument after dinner with Samuel.”
“I guess I ruined your plans that night, didn’t I?”
“That might be why I took it so hard. I’ve never given a ring to a woman before, and definitely never ever asked anyone to marry me.”
“Oh, Jack!” She held out her arms and they hugged for long enough to get smiles from the other patrons, who had been watching since he got down on his knee.
They ate their dinner, constantly grabbing each other’s hands and squeezing.
“There’s one thing that bothers me,” he said, finishing his key-lime pie. “But perhaps this is the wrong time to bring it up?”
“What is it, Jack?”
“Well, I’ve been thinking about the time I got hurt and was in the hospital. I woke up in the twenty-first century, I think. Not only do we have to worry about all the normal stuff a couple does, but there’s the distinct possibility that I could be ripped away from here.”
“Don’t get me nervous now. That was just probably a freak accident—you know, getting hit on the same place on your head.”
“I’m not sure anything happens by accident. Never before in my life have I felt the hands of providence so much at play. I just think that we have to consider it a possibility.”
She looked off in thought and said, “So what do you want to do about it?”
“For the most part, nothing. I think we just need to look at every day as a gift. Cherish every moment we have.”
“That doesn’t sound like the worst idea in the world, anyway.”
“There is one other thing I would like to do… I’d like to have a place where we could leave word for each other if we ever got separated.”
“I’m not sure I’m following. Separated how?”
“Me going ahead in time, or back, or wherever.”
“Okay… that is more than a little disturbing, but okay.”
“I’d like to take half my cash I have on deposit at my bank and cash it in for gold. Last I checked, gold was around $20 an ounce. In 2013 it goes up to around $1700, that’s $6.5 million. I’d like to squirrel it away in this same place. ”
“So if you lose me at least you’ll end up rich.”
“Well… yes. I’m pretty much a loser in 2013.”
This made her laugh and lightened the mood. “Where would you like to hide it?”
“Well, that’s the problem. If I decided to bury it in an empty field, who could say that the site wouldn’t be excavated sometime in the next 150 years? I thought that a national park would be an idea, but there are no National Parks yet. I could go to what I know would be one, but who’s to say they wouldn’t build a ranger station or concession stand on the spot. But you know what I’ve seen since I’ve been here in Tidewater—Old Fort Monroe at the mouth of the harbor. I took a tour there once and they said the Chapel had been there nearly 180 years. In that time—other than a few coats of paint and replacing a couple of windows—no other renovations had been done. I’ve checked it out, it does look the same as I remember it from my time.”
“I say do it.”
“Really? I thought you might be upset.” Jack was relieved.
“In case you do slip away from me, that would be the only way I could ever get a message to you.”
In his little strongbox, Jack placed nearly $80,000 worth of pristine gold coins of the era. Even if the coins were to be of no value to collectors, the gold itself would be.
He decided not to use any kind of paper, like deeds or stock certificates, because he remembered several hurricanes had hit the area and wasn’t sure if Fort Monroe had ever suffered flood damage. And besides, all his property would be deeded over to Frances once they were married.
He prayed this would never be an issue, but he and Frances both knew it could be.
CHAPTER 32
Wednesday, July 15, 1857
Chapel of the Centurion
They took care of business and Frances accompanied Jack to the Chapel of the Centurion at Fort Monroe. They said they were thinking of getting married in the small church. Once they revealed to the kindly old Chaplain who they were, they were left alone to pray for over an hour in it. Jack saw that the altar steps, even though they were not even forty years old, were cracked and splintered. Jack offered to have new altar steps custom made at a cabinetmaker in Norfolk as a donation for the use of the church. He used one company to make the steps, another to install a hidden, swing-away panel, and yet another company to deliver it. Only the last company knew the final destination for the woodwork, and to them it was only stairs. To celebrate after placing the strongbox in position, Jack suggested a few days on the beach.
They walked together for miles in the sand just north of Fort Monroe in Hampton, dashing out of the way of the thunderous waves crashing at their feet. They watched as the perfect day slipped away into the blues and violets of a perfect evening and the remaining sunlight danced on the incoming crests. They ducked as gulls swooped and squawked just inches above their heads and the crisp saline air filled their lungs.
They didn’t speak for the longest time. Jack finally turned to her and asked, “Do you know why we are here?”
“Sure I do, so that we could hide the box at the Fort,” Frances said, looking into his eyes and smiling a mischievous smile.
“No, I mean here on the beach.”
“I want to hear you say it.”
“Because I wanted to thank you for adding meaning to my life, true meaning for the first time ever. The sweet measure of your heart seems to give my life purpose.”
Jack took her into his arms, gently guided her to the sand, and they made love. They made love with both eyes open, staring into depths, that until that time, neither had fathomed.
Lying in the sand together, watching the moon dance over the waves, Jack held her tight in his arms and squeezed just as hard as he possibly dared.
“Frances, there comes a time in the course of living a life that one feels transcended beyond the biology of flesh and bone, a time when the wind whispers and the angels sing. A time when all things feel possible and inevitable. I feel like I could sing a song, climb a mountain, do just about anything. I have missed you more than I thought I would, and I was prepared to miss you a lot.”
“I missed you too, Jack. Let’s never be apart again. No more separate travel—from now on, we travel together.”
“This morning on my walk around the City, waiting for you to wake up, your name commingled with the voices I heard and thoughts of you floated on the wind. I’ve spent today in a daze and tonight in a dream. I will never forget you or love you any less than I do right at this moment. I promise,” Jack said.
But can promises stand the test of time?
CHAPTER 33
Saturday, August 15, 1857
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br /> They were married three weeks later at the little chapel. The air was filled with an electric, contagious excitement. The entire Sanger and Goodyear families, Samuel, Kazmer, Hercules, Ralph Waldo Emerson, Conrad Poppenhusen, Allan Pinkerton and his wife Joan, Ken Barnett and his family—including Kady—were all at the wedding ceremony. Even more people showed up for the reception. Jack rented the town hall in Norfolk, and everyone from the Norfolk Complex and every Sanger employee were invited. And nearly all showed up. Jack was surprised to see Cyrus McCormick and his new bride, along with Joseph Henry and his wife, Harriet, show up in time for the party.
It was a grand day and even finer night.
Jack and Frances, her parents, Samuel, and Kazmer sat at the main table in the front of the hall. The table sat sideways so the gathered group of nearly 150 people could watch the couple eat and occasionally kiss. The waiters brought out chilled bottles of champagne and glasses for everyone. The band’s music intermingled with the festive sounds of clinking glass and the giggles and squeals of happy children. Robbie and Kazmer had already been on the dance floor.
Samuel L. Clemens stood, wearing a white suit that Jack had asked him to wear, saying that one day, along with his bushy white hair and mustache, it would become his trademark. Sam raised his champagne glass above his head and clinked the side of it with his spoon. “Can I have everyone’s attention, please?” he said over the hum of the crowd. The band stopped and everyone turned in their seats to listen to the wild-eyed, wild-haired young man. His mustache was freshly waxed and the ends were tightly curled. He twirled one of these ends as he waited for the crowd to take their seats and raise their glasses.
“We are gathered here tonight to celebrate the nuptials of my dear friends Jack and Frances. Jack,” he tipped his glass in Jack’s direction, “you are a very lucky man. I want a good wife too, I mean, who doesn’t? Now that I think about it—I want a couple of them if they are particularly good—but where is the wherewithal?
“If I were settled, I would quit all nonsense and swindle some girl into marrying me, too. But I wouldn’t expect to be worthy of her. I wouldn’t have a girl that I was worthy of. She wouldn’t do. She wouldn’t be respectable enough.”
The crowd laughed and Samuel continued, “This kind of love you two have is not a product of reasonings and statistics. It just came—no one knows whence—and it, of course, cannot explain itself. Love seems the swiftest but is the slowest of all growths. I believe that no man and woman can know what perfect love is until they have been married at least a quarter of a century.
“People talk about beautiful friendships between two persons of the same sex. There is no place for comparison between the two friendships; the one is earthly, the other divine. Good luck on your life journey, my two good friends!” He raised his glass toward Jack and Frances and said, “Cheers.”
Jack looked into Frances’s eyes and could never remember being this happy in his life. As big and tough as he thought he was, he found that his ability to speak had escaped him. He knew his eyes were glassy and tears of joy were just waiting to flow down his cheeks. He did struggle to talk, and discovered that his throat had closed up. Frances placed her hand on his face and said, “I know, sweetheart, I know.”
With one unified voice, the entire crowd followed suit and said, “Cheers!” Jack and Frances kissed, and there were claps and cheers of encouragement from their friends and relatives.
Frank Sanger stood and raised his glass in front of him. Even though Andrew Sanger might have had a slightly better head for business and was definitely more aggressive, it was Frank that the employees of the F.A. Sanger Company thought of as the kind and calm patriarch of the organization. “From me and your mother, Frances, good luck and a happy life together—salute!” He tipped his glass toward Jack and Frances and took a sip.
Frances saw a big tear rolling down her stoic father’s face, and then Frances started crying herself. Seeing this was all Jack needed to send him over the edge.
Shy and quiet Kazmer was the only member of the wedding table that hadn’t offered up a toast, and no one expected him to. So everyone was especially surprised to see him slowly rise to his feet. It seemed to take forever for the long, lanky man to straighten to his full six feet, four inches and bring his glass stiffly in front of him. Jack watched particularly closely and wondered what his friend was going to say. Everyone, including Jack, was shocked at what came out of his mouth.
In a voice rich and full, one that could be heard by everyone in the hall, and quite possibly everyone for several blocks, he sang:
“Zivio!
Zivio!
Zivio!
Mnoga lieta, Mnoga lieta, Mnoga lieta!”
Jack just stared at his Polish friend, as did most of the crowd. Alexi Podemere, a Russian scientist from the Norfolk Complex stood, as well as Rendor Boldizsar, an assistant manager from the New York Sanger store. They both joined Kazmer as he belted out the words again.
“Zivio!
Zivio!
Zivio!
Mnoga lieta, Mnoga lieta, Mnoga lieta!”
Several others in the crowd also stood and joined in with the ever-growing chorus.
Frances was smiling east to west when she asked Jack, “What language are they speaking?”
“I’m not sure, this must be some Slavic thing.”
Soon the entire hall was on their feet, including Samuel and Ralph Waldo Emerson. The song ended with a robust “ZIVIO!” and everyone toasted and clapped.
Kazmer said in his normal quiet voice, barely heard above the din of the crowd, “My good friends Jack and Frances, this is a Russian song we sing at home. It means, live long and many years of happiness.”
Jack stood and raised his glass to the gathering. “Thank you, and thank all of you, for being part of the greatest day of my life. For the first time, I feel complete—fulfilled—and I thank each one of you for making this possible.”
In a whisper only Jack could hear, Frances said, “I’m pregnant.”
CHAPTER 34
Saturday, August 15, 1857
Hercules Gordon Hopwood and a middle-aged black woman eased into the hall. Jack waved and hurried toward them, leaving Frances talking with her mother. Frank Sanger saw Hercules and he joined Jack.
“Mr. Jack and Mr. Frank, I would like you twos to meet my wife, Molly.”
Without waiting for her to extend a hand, Frank Sanger reached across and grabbed hers to shake it. Jack did the same. She was a tall, dignified, sturdy woman, wearing an expensive looking dress.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ma’am,” Frank said.
“I’m glad you both could make it, I was starting to worry,” Jack said.
“Molly just gots in on the train from New Orleans. Mr. Frank, we just don’t know hows to thank you.”
“It was nothing. I’m glad I could help.”
Hercules scrunched his face and said, “I begs to differ wits you there, sir. Without your help, I know I’d never be findin’ my wife.”
“Nonsense! I just put our man Pinkerton on the job, and using his connections—why, it was my pleasure.”
“Why don’t you two come and have a seat, get some food,” Jack said.
“Not to be unkind, but we just stopped on in to say thank you and congratulations. Molly brought a big surprise for me.”
“A surprise?”
“I brought our three children along with me from New Orleans,” Molly said in an elegant British accent. “I would like to thank you two gentlemen again for all your help reuniting my family.”
“The young uns, ah, actually they be teenagers now, are out in the wagon waitin’ on us.”
“Invite them in and join the party.”
“If it be all the same to you Mr. Jack, I gots me some serious catchin’ up to do. We is plannin’ a little celebration of our own tonight.”
“I understand,” Jack said. “Frank, I want to stick my head out and say hello real quick…”
“I’ll tell your new wife and the rest of your guests your whereabouts, but I can’t hold them off forever,” he joked.
“My wife’s been on the same plantation all these years,” Hercules said, holding the door.
“I’ve been a personal servant to Mrs. H.G. Hopwood, we came from South London together about forty years ago,” Molly said.
“And she marries my massa and that’s how we got together. That’s where we gots our last name.”
Three fine looking children sat in an open wagon parked in the street. The girl looked about eleven, and the two boys about fourteen or fifteen.
“This be little Mary, that be Josh and Brent.”
“Welcome to Virginia,” Jack said.
“It’s our pleasure to meet you, sir,” they all said in an accent like their mother’s.
Jack turned to Hercules. “I want to give you the house next to mine. I know it was a house you were going to share with other men, but that’s back before you were a married man with family. It’s all set up and waiting for you; all the paperwork has been signed.”
“Ah, Mr. Jack, I don’t know how—“
“What Hercules is trying to say Mr. Riggs, is thank you,” Molly said.
“Virginia is a slave state, it’s not the safest place to live. If you would rather I can talk to Frank about getting you set up in New York.”
“Thanks to your largess Mr. Riggs, we are now free, and there can be no better place to help others of our race than here.”
“Are you sure this is what you want?”
“Yessa, it be what we all want. If’n we can make one family as happy as you made ours… any troubles—well, they be worth it.”
“Then you’ve decided?”
“Yes, we have decided as a family,” Molly said with a smile, and hugged her husband.
“Let me know how else I can help with your cause,” Jack said.
“We appreciate that and we certainly will,” Molly said.
