Cross Stitch

by Amanda James

  John shut the door, took Sarah’s hand and whispered, ‘Right, let’s go downstairs and have breakfast. We’ll pop back up in an hour and see if she’s gone.’

  Once in the kitchen and out of earshot Sarah turned on John. ‘Right, matey, what aren’t you telling me?’

  ‘Eh? Nothing … now would you like a cooked breakfast or just toast?’

  ‘Don’t, “eh nothing me”, and cooked, I’m starved.’

  ‘That’s a good sign. You look back to normal now. Have you any aches or pains?’

  Sarah realised she was back to normal. All of her flu symptoms had miraculously disappeared. Weird. ‘Nope, nothing. So what aren’t you telling me? You went as red as a strawberry upstairs just now. And you had the ENF on earlier.’

  John had his head in the fridge so she couldn’t see his face. ‘I’m sure I didn’t and if you must know I wanted to make sure I didn’t worry Veronica, but I am a bit worried about her to be honest.’ He shut the fridge door placed bacon and eggs on the counter and fiddled with the grill pan.

  Sarah pulled her dressing gown tighter as she felt a sudden chill. The woman was obnoxious and definitely unlikeable, but she did have a vulnerable side and Sarah didn’t want to think that something horrible happened to her back then. ‘Why? What happened to her?’

  John sighed and took her in his arms. She leaned her head against his chest and was comforted by the steady beat of his heart. ‘I don’t know for sure, hon, but Southampton was hit hard in the blitz. My great aunt lived there at the time and I remember her telling me and my sister Lucy about it when we were young.’

  ‘Oh, no, poor Veronica.’ Sarah lifted her head and searched John’s face. ‘Do you think she died?’

  ‘I honestly don’t know. I just hated saying that she would be fine, but I couldn’t say anything else, could I?’

  John broke their embrace and busied himself with the breakfast. Sarah looked around their bright and airy kitchen. Although the cottage was ancient it was kitted out with every modern appliance, but tastefully done and in keeping with the surroundings. The lemon and white of the walls complimented the original stone flags and the light wood cupboards. A tall sash window overlooked the fields and the morning sun angled in, painting everything in warm gold.

  Sarah loved it here, had done from the very first time she’d set foot in it before she and John were even together romantically, and now it was hers too. How lucky was she sat in this comfort with her new husband, safe, protected? While poor Veronica … Being a history teacher, Sarah knew a good bit about the war, plus she had real experience of it having visited 1940 on her first time trip. The air raid sirens had sent chills through her blood but she had only been there for a few hours. What must it have been like to hear it on a day-to-day basis? How on earth people managed to carry on in wartime, never knowing if they or their loved ones would wake up the next day, beat the hell out of her.

  Sarah stirred her coffee and thought again about poor Veronica upstairs, now on her way back to 1939. She wouldn’t experience bombs falling until the year after, but there would have been drills and preparations. Veronica would be watching the skies and listening for the sirens every night in that cold little house by the sea … all alone. No wonder she had been scared to take a time job. She had enough on her plate already; her nerves must be stretched to breaking point, hidden under that grouchy exterior. And Sarah had been less than sympathetic about the whole thing. Sarah, who had never had to worry about war, who had the most wonderful man in the world by her side, and even though her wedding day had been ruined, had many happy days stretching out in front of her.

  Aware that the general sounds of cooking had stopped, Sarah looked up from her coffee to see John staring intently at her.

  ‘Penny for them?’

  Sarah gave him more than a penny, unburdening herself of the worries and sadness she felt for old Horse Face upstairs.

  John placed breakfast in front of her and drew up a chair. ‘Look, sweetheart, there’s nothing we can do about it. The whole thing is out of our hands. The mix-up happened, buggered up our wedding and now it’s over. I know I might sound selfish, but the main thing is that you are back safe and now we need to make the best of a bad situation and try to enjoy our honeymoon.’ He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. ‘Okay, beautiful?’

  Sarah sighed. ‘Okay, but what about Veronica? Don’t you care what happens to her?’

  ‘Of course, but as I said, what can we do?’ John lifted her hand and placed a kiss on her new wedding band. He smiled and looked thoughtful. ‘I guess we could look up what happened to her in the records, or perhaps the Spindly Ones could tell us if we asked nicely. Will that make you feel better?’

  It would, even if it was bad news Sarah felt she had to know. ‘Thanks, John. I can’t bear just going on with my life and forgetting I ever met her. I know she was a royal pain in the arse but—’

  ‘I know exactly what you mean. Now eat your breakfast before it goes cold and then we’ll go and see if she’s left us.’

  Hand in hand John and Sarah tiptoed across the bedroom. Sarah’s heart bumped in her chest and trepidation tickled in her tummy. No snoring met their ears and unconsciously holding her breath she watched John’s hand slide back the wardrobe door. Releasing the breath in a huff of relief she hugged her husband tight. ‘Looks like she’s gone safely, then.’

  ‘Yep … looks like. And let’s hope that the old Ratchet keeps herself safe for the duration of the war,’ John said, leading Sarah back downstairs.

  Chapter Six

  This is definitely more like it. John stretched languidly, relishing the feel of cool, silky sheets against his skin and propped himself up on one elbow. The dawn light crept through the vertical blinds and cast grey bars along the knee deep luxury carpet in their Manhattan apartment suite. John cast his eye over the clothes strewn on the floor and the red basque crumpled on the end of the bed and grinned. Boy had they had fun last night and in the early hours. It had damn well been worth waiting for.

  His wife, for now she was legally his wife, sighed softly in her sleep and shifted position. The sheet slipped down her gorgeous body to reveal one of her full breasts and one smooth thigh. Though they had made love three times already, John felt his excitement grow and he traced his fingers gently along her leg. Sarah responded by giving him a lovely view of her back and firm bottom as she turned over.

  John lay back down and closed his eyes for a few moments. Perhaps he should let her sleep; she had struggled with jet lag and there would be plenty of time to make love again later. A sigh of contentment escaped his lips. Thank God everything had worked out. Veronica had gone back to 1939, they had signed the register, had a few friends and family over on Monday for a belated celebration, and then flown out here yesterday afternoon. The apartment was just as wonderful as it had looked on the website and there had been champagne and chocolates waiting. Not that Sarah was drinking much lately; she said it gave her heartburn.

  That thought brought a picture of his dad’s frowny face to mind. On Monday when they’d had folks round, Harry had pulled his son to one side and from the corner of his mouth said, ‘So, have you told her about the reason for this Cross Stitch malarkey, or whatever the powers are calling it?’ Harry jerked his head in the direction of Sarah chatting to her sister on the patio in the autumn sunshine.

  ‘No, I haven’t because there might be lots of reasons for it or no reason at all. The powers that be said it has happened before and—’

  ‘Aye and I bet they said that one of the reasons might have been what I mentioned the night she had the fever, eh?’

  John pursed his lips and glared at his dad. Harry always had this knack of making him say stuff that he wanted to keep hidden, so he tried the old Needler evasion tactic as Sarah called it. ‘It was hardly the same, was it? A Stitch wasn’t hauled back from the past with the woman you told me about, now was she?’

  ‘Not as far as I know. But the whole travelling but leavi
ng the body here was very similar if you ask me. Now did they say the reason that I told you?’

  As well as being good at wheedling things out of him, Harry was like a bloody dog with a bone too, so better toss him a morsel. ‘It was mentioned in passing, but—’

  Harry’s eyes shone with excitement. ‘I knew it, so why haven’t you told—’

  John had grabbed his dad’s elbow and guided him into the kitchen out of Sarah’s earshot. ‘Shush, will you? I haven’t told her because it might not be true and you know damn well how much she would want it to be.’

  ‘But what else could it be?’

  ‘Like I said, Dad, lots of things. Or maybe time just screwed up for no reason … chucked Sarah back to 1939 by mistake.’ John noted his dad’s cynical smile and realised that his words were being taken with a huge pinch of salt. A flash of logic would wipe that off his face. ‘And besides, don’t you think Sarah would be the first to know?’

  Harry held his finger up and grinned. ‘Not necessarily, your mum once told me about this woman who—’

  John held up his hands. ‘I don’t want to know about “this woman who”, just keep your gob shut, right?’

  Harry knitted his eyebrows together and shook his head. ‘All right, don’t get your knickers in a twist, lad. I guess whatever will be, will be.’

  John opened his eyes and turned to face the contours of Sarah’s naked back again. Whatever will be, will be, huh? He so hoped that it would be. But for now he would put all that out of his mind and concentrate on having the best time here in Manhattan. They only had a four day break as his market garden wouldn’t run itself. Helen and Roy ran the shop part-time, but John did all the hard graft in the fields. One day he could hopefully afford a horticulturalist to assist him, but until that day it was down to him and Sarah, of course, lent a hand when she wasn’t teaching.

  Sarah’s back was just itching to be kissed, as was the curve of her waist and the swell of her hip. It was no good, she could sleep later. John moved along the bed and put his lips on her shoulder, lifted her hair and nuzzled into the warmth of her neck. ‘You awake, my love?’ he whispered, running his hand along her thigh and over her tummy.

  Sarah muttered something, yawned and then pressed her bum against him. ‘I am now and it feels like you have been “up” for a while.’ She chuckled.

  ‘And would you like to go back to sleep?’ He stroked her breast feeling the nipple grow erect between his fingers. ‘I mean, I know how jet-lagged you are.’

  Sarah turned around and looked sleepily into his eyes, though he noted a growing flame of passion igniting her baby blues to a deeper midnight. ‘Oh, I think I can manage to keep my eyes open for little while.’ Her fingers sent shivers through him as they ran along his chest, back and squeezed his bottom, and then he gasped as she pushed him onto his back and he felt the heat of her mouth.

  ‘Wow, you are awake, aren’t you?’ he moaned as he stroked her hair fanning out over his belly. As she continued, John wound his hands in her hair as every nerve ending sang with pleasure. If she kept that up there wouldn’t be time to get inside her and he was desperate to do that.

  Gently lifting her head he turned her over and heard her cry out as his mouth returned the favour and he slipped his fingers into the heat of her body. ‘John, I need you inside … now,’ Sarah panted, moving her hips against his mouth.

  John moved his kisses further up her body tasting the salt on her skin and then the sweetness of her mouth. Submerging his senses in the ocean of her eyes he groaned, ‘I love you, my darling, my wife.’ And then he felt her open to him and he thrust deep inside. Her arms and legs wrapped around him and he felt her hot breath on his cheek, his rhythm matching hers until he could no longer tell where she began and he ended as they soared towards shuddering climax.

  Trying to catch their breath a few seconds later and still inside her, John stared into Sarah’s eyes and felt his heart melt into hers. No words were needed. What they had was perfect … like a hand in glove, bacon and eggs, horse and carriage, Wallace and Gromit … John grinned. Where did that last one come from?

  Sarah wrinkled her nose. ‘What’s funny?’

  John told her.

  ‘Charmin’. So which one am I?’

  ‘Gromit, of course,’ John said, settling beside her and pulling the duvet round them. ‘You have the wet nose and floppy ears of the outfit after all.’

  ‘Why, you cheeky article!’ Sarah pulled the pillow from under his head and walloped him.

  ‘Ow! Right, you’ve started something now,’ John roared, taking her pillow and kneeling up on the bed. ‘Pillow fight, seconds out, round o—’

  Sarah whacked him across the head and for the next few minutes they abandoned themselves to sillydom.

  John debated whether to tell Sarah she had cappuccino froth on her top lip and decided against it. She looked so damned cute and he’d sneak a photo in a minute. The wind at the top of the Empire State Building a few minutes ago had put roses in her cheeks, and made rats tails of her honey-blonde hair. Her blue eyes, accentuated by the turquoise scarf around her neck, sparkled with excitement.

  Now warming up in The New York Bagel, they sipped coffee, munched on toasted raisin bagels and planned the last jaunt of their trip. Tomorrow they’d be UK bound and John felt his heart sink a little at that thought. They had had the best time and though he loved his job, right now he wanted to stay in the moment, in New York, on honeymoon forever.

  ‘Right, we have done the Empire State, Central Park, open top bus tour, so … do you want to do the Statue of Liberty boat trip, or something else?’ Sarah asked, the frothy moustache wiggling as she talked.

  Trying to keep his face straight, John said, ‘Something else.’

  Sarah looked at his twinkly eyed expression and sighed. ‘No. We have plenty of time for bed when we get back to England.’

  John frowned. ‘No, I didn’t mean that actually … though come to think of it.’ He put his head on one side and winked suggestively, but received a withering look for his trouble. ‘No, I actually meant that …’ he looked at his watch and back at her ‘… we have exactly one hour to get down to the Heliport at Pier 6. They like you to arrive early because—’

  ‘Eh? Heliport … my God, you mean—’ Sarah began, her moustache jiggling crazily as her excitement mounted.

  ‘Yes, I do indeed my little cappuccino features. I have booked a surprise helicopter flight over Manhattan. We get to see the Statue of Liberty, Ellis Island, the Empire State from another angle—’

  He was cut off by a squeal and chuckled to himself as he watched her clap her hands together like a kid at Christmas. ‘Let’s mark the moment, eh?’ He pulled his phone out of his pocket and took a photo.

  ‘Oh, John. You are such a wonderful husband! What a fantastic end to our time here.’ Sarah grinned taking his hand across the table.

  ‘Well, I wanted to do something special given the way our wedding day and celebrations were so rudely interrupted.’

  ‘You certainly did that, my love. And you are so special.’

  ‘And you look so special.’

  ‘I can’t do, I must look a right mess after being out in the wind.’ Sarah sighed patting her hair.

  John quelled a torrent of laughter building in his throat. ‘No, it’s true. You do look really special.’ He held up the photo.

  Sarah froze in horror and then scrubbed at her mouth with a napkin. ‘You swine, John. How could you let me sit here with a cappuccino moustache?’ Though her voice sounded fierce he could hear laughter under the surface.

  ‘Easy, it’s just what wonderful husbands do.’

  Chapter Seven

  The dip and rise had her belly on a string, and exhilaration pulsed through her veins as the helicopter buzzed past the Statue of Liberty in a blue sky swept of cloud. A gravy-brown Hudson crawled towards the sea beneath, while John held her hand and told her he loved her more than life …

  Oh, to be back there instead of h
ere. Sarah sighed, zipped up her school trousers and groaned. What a difference a few days made. Monday morning, and a quick glance through the bedroom curtains told her the sky was cloudy, swept of blue … in fact it looked like rain. As if on cue a patter of raindrops tattooed the pane. Yep, back to reality big-time.

  Buttoning up her shirt she wondered if the day would be kind to her. Her timetable floated briefly into her mind … that would be a no then. Double Year 9, break, double Year 8, lunch … and oh, thank goodness for Year 10 in the afternoon. Even though she had no free lessons now that she had gone part-time, Year 10 would be a joy to teach. And if she wasn’t mistaken it was a lesson on how the homesteaders had made use of the wind pump and red turkey wheat to survive the harsh climate in nineteenth-century Kansas.

  Bitter sweet memories of Kansas in 1874 flooded in as she brushed her teeth. She often thought of her time-travelling mission there and could hardly believe how she’d coped with that awful heat, filth and back breaking work. And though it had been hard, she had so loved being someone’s mother for a time. Sarah tried to quell a lump as big as a tennis ball rising in her throat: the sadness at leaving behind the 1870s Sarah’s son, Artie, had played heavily on her mind. It wasn’t as if she’d failed, in fact she had been fantastically successful, having saved the person she was supposed to and more besides. It was the awful thought that the lovely blond-haired little tyke she’d been a mother too for such a short time and had fallen in love with, had grown up, grown old, and was now long dead.

  John had talked her through the times when she’d been maudlin and tried to lighten the heavy feeling in her heart. Just a few weeks ago she had been having a wobble and he had taken her in his arms and said, ‘Look, Sarah, I know how you feel but just be satisfied that you did your job and made that whole family happy. Artie wasn’t abandoned because his real mother never left, did she? And as you know, he grew up to be a senator responsible for the civil rights bills and made a huge difference to the world.’