Mark was silent again. “My parents are gone, too. And I… I’ve seen the way Jake and Melody look at one another.”
“You don’t know my brother. He will never shirk his duty,” Serena said.
“Exactly, the British will get their hands on him again!” Mark said.
He stepped away suddenly and Melody realized that the back door had opened. “Excuse me, Mark. I thought you were going to come out here and help with the wood,” Jake said.
“On my way.”
“Tea is brewing!” Serena said.
The door shut. Melody ran down the stairs to the fireplace. She found the crack between the bricks and added her new letter to her old letter.
“Read it, Mom, read it, please!” she whispered.
“Mother!” Keith exclaimed.
He dropped his control stick.
Desperate times had called for desperate measures. Mona didn’t want to go out. She didn’t want to go to church. She didn’t want to eat—she wasn’t putting together a Christmas meal, because Melody had to be home before they had their Christmas meal.
And so he had taken out the Wii.
Mona had roused somewhat, beating him at three games of video tennis. His father had taken them at golf, and Mona had come back in for the boxing—bringing them both down as if she had the power of Muhammad Ali.
It was one way to keep her distracted.
Every once in a while, he would see a faraway look in his mother’s eyes, and then there were moments he would see a tear trickle down her cheek. Then George or Keith would hold her, and they’d start a game over again.
George was doing fairly well. Only occasionally would he sit there as if in another world. And he would say, “My baby.”
Technically, I’m the baby! Keith thought. But, hey, Melody was their girl. He knew only that it was good to keep his parents distracted, because that kept him distracted.
And he was afraid.
Last chance.
Somehow, they all seemed to feel that tonight was their last chance.
That’s when he noticed the letter.
And pried it carefully from the stones and handed it to his mother.
Mona cried at first.
The she straightened her shoulders and stiffened and looked up at them both, fire in her eyes.
“Who wants me to beat the sh—sorry, the pants off of them in soccer?”
Christmas dinner in 1776 was no easy matter.
The cranberry sauce was made from preserved cranberries, and it had to be stirred and stirred and stirred as it boiled over an open fire. Potatoes had been carefully preserved in the cellar, and the bird—not a wild turkey, but a pheasant—had been a gift from the neighbor who looked after Serena.
Melody was quietly delighted that the bird had been plucked the day before. She wasn’t at all sure that she’d have done well being a feather plucker. Nor did she think she would have done a decent job at the beheading part of the whole thing, either.
There were also vegetables to be boiled-greens kept in the root cellar. Amazingly, despite the hardships of war and the New England winter, Serena was able to put together an amazing feast.
They all worked to make it happen.
At about one, they came around the dining-room table. Jake said grace, thanking God for life and sustenance, and those in life who made it all worth living.
Serena, accepting a plate of meat after Jake carved, smiled. “I do know that while this is certainly distressing for your family, I must admit, it’s rather nice for me.”
Mark reached across the table, taking her hand. “It’s rather nice for all of us.”
“Jake is never here. Not since the war,” Serena said.
“If I were here, I’d always be here,” Mark said.
“Are there glasses? I think we forgot to put them out. And Serena has that lovely bottle of wine for all to share,” Melody said, rising.
In any other circumstance, she’d be terribly tempted to yell at Mark and Serena.
Get a room, will you!
But this was 1776, and Serena was Jake’s sister.
She smiled, heading into the kitchen for the glasses. Keith, now…Keith had handed her right over. But then, Keith had gotten to know Jake. He had believed in him, long before she had. Keith lived in the twenty-first century.
And Keith knew that she had fallen in love with Jake.
As she reached for the glasses, Jake joined her in the kitchen. He opened his mouth, as if he would say something light.
She did the same.
But neither of them spoke.
She rushed into his arms, and her lips met his, and she pressed against him as if she could crawl beneath his skin, and she kissed him as if she might never kiss him again.
He pulled away from her, searching her eyes, cradling the sides of her head with both hands. “Melody…your family. They love you so.”
“I know.”
He pulled her close to him again. He held her, and held her.
They kissed again, trembling, and then just stood holding each other tight.
“Do you need help in there?” Mark called.
Smiling ruefully, they pulled away from one another and retrieved the glasses. At the table, Mark had uncorked the bottle, and was ready to pour.
They finished dinner and cleaned up.
Around the fire in the parlor, Jake picked up his violin and handed his guitar to his sister. They played old tunes, entertaining everyone. Mark admitted that although he thought he was a pretty decent writer, he’d never learned to play an instrument.
“Too many diversions,” Jake said.
“I guess.”
“Come over here,” Serena told him. “I’ll show you.”
Jake went up the stairs, mumbling something about his office.
Melody followed him. He was waiting for her. They didn’t go into his office; they went into his room. They held one another, and watched the sun begin its descent.
“It’s nearly…sunset,” Mona said.
“It is, Mom. But it’s cold outside. We have a few minutes,” Keith said.
“I’m going to get the machines going,” George said.
“Dad, they’re not leaving from here, they’re coming here,” Keith reminded him.
“Doesn’t matter. I want it to be optimum for those two to get back here,” George said.
“The rose petals! I must have the rose petals!” Mona said. “I want them to surround the well, I want to see them fly in the air, and fall in the snow. I want everything as Serena had it—when she saved her brother’s life!”
“All right,” Keith said. “We’ll get started then.”
He and his father dragged out the wave machines, and George turned them on. Mona took the roses, the gift from the priest, and walked around the circumference of the machines and the well. She chanted as she did so.
Or she prayed.
Keith wasn’t sure.
Maybe she tried a bit of both.
Then it was done. The machines hummed.
And the roses were strewn.
So beautiful against the diamond glitter of the snow.
Keith manned the one machine while his father stood by the other.
Mona waited, holding a bowl with the remaining rose petals.
“It’s time!”
Serena called them softly from the foot of the stairs.
Melody couldn’t stand it; she clung to Jake.
But then, it was she who released him. She had to go home. And she understood that he felt that he had to stay.
She kissed him one last time. Saying nothing, she turned and hurried down the stairs. Mark stood just behind Serena. They were both grave.
“Let’s get done with the hugging and kissing now,” Mark said brusquely. “Once we’re out there now, we have to move, and we have to be right, and there can be no interference, none at all.”
“Right,” Melody said.
So she hugged Serena fiercely, and they smiled at o
ne another.
They could have been great friends.
Then, she turned to Jake. They stared at each other. She was about to take a step toward him when she heard Mark groan.
“Not him. Hug and kiss me goodbye,” he said.
“Look,” Jake said. “We’ve been through this. It’s a noble sacrifice—”
“Thank you, brother!” Serena said. “You consider a life with me—a sacrifice?”
“Serena! I didn’t mean it that way at all!” Jake protested. “He just—he comes from a different time. He doesn’t understood what led up to the war, he…he has cable television, for God’s sake.”
“But I’d rather have Serena,” Mark said. He looked at Melody. “Hey, kid, here’s looking at you—except that you never loved me, and you loved him right off the bat, and that’s all right, I really understand. I understand because the minute I set eyes on Serena…oh, and don’t worry, Jake, you don’t have to do any kind of fatherly thing and beat me to a pulp over her. We’ll take it slow. I know it’s 1776, and I’d never dishonor her or you in any way, but we are going to get married.”
“The sun is starting to fall,” Serena said.
Jake turned to his sister. “Serena, is this a fantastic act? What if I want to stay? What if I am determined to do my part in this war?”
Serena smiled and hugged him. “I’m not a good actress at all. I’ve never done well with lying. I know that you are very much in love with Melody, who loves you very much in return. Why are we questioning any of this? We have it right now. And the sun is setting! This is it! Last chance.”
Jake took his sister into his arms, drawing her close. “Serena…”
“You won’t be deserting me. Mark needs me. And I want him. And I want you to be happy. I know that you want me to be happy, and Melody wants Mark to be happy, right?”
“Of course. Of course, Mark. But I would never want my happiness to be at any expense to you!”
“Wonderful. Now I’m an expense,” Serena said.
“No, no, no, I didn’t mean that!” Melody protested.
“I know you didn’t,” Serena assured her.
Melody smiled. “It’s going to kill Jake to leave you,” she whispered.
Serena looked at them both. “No, I think we will all be fine. Because what we wish for is the health and happiness of those we love, no matter where they may be. Now this is it, no changing minds, no interference, nothing. Drink those potions, you two.”
Jake and Melody looked at one another. She stared into his eyes.
“Will you be all right? Will you be all right if you do this thing—for me?”
He searched her eyes in return.
“We will be all right,” he assured her.
“It will be a mess. I mean, Mark will have disappeared. And you will suddenly be there. You don’t have a social security number. There is no record of your existence,” Melody said worriedly.
“We will work it out,” Jake said.
“The sun is coming!” Mark said firmly. “We’ve got to get out there. I’ve got the lantern, the two of you, drink those potions. Now.”
He was still bossy, Melody decided. But Serena, she was certain, would be able to handle him.
Mark stood back, his arm around Serena’s shoulders. The lanterns burned on either side of the old well, where a strange electrical sizzle seemed to have begun.
Jake took Melody’s hand, and together, they swallowed the potion.
She felt his grip, felt it so strongly. Then there was a magnificent flash of light.
Serena lifted her arms.
And rose petals flew through the sky, beautiful against the coming night and the snow.
She looked up. She thought she saw the North Star, even against the pastel sky.
Christmas. Magic could happen.
Jake knew that he would never travel such a strange path again. Feel the rush of the universe, see the stars slide by in a blink. Darkness and light, and all in the blink of an eye. He tried to hold on to it; he tried to understand it.
But it wasn’t meant to be understood. There was no holding on. Whatever had really occurred since he had been dropped in a hangman’s noose from the gallows, he would never fully understand.
It was over; abruptly, it was over. He tasted the cold of snow in his mouth and realized that he had landed facedown. Sunset had come with a full and sudden blanket of darkness.
For a moment, he didn’t know where he was.
Rose petals littered the snow.
Had it all been a dream, a wild and desperate dream, imagined from the end of a rope?
No.
He felt her hand. Melody’s hand. Her warmth against the cold; she was life against any fear of darkness. He still wasn’t sure where they were, if they had made it back, or fallen face-first into the snow of a yard in 1776….
“Melody!” Mona cried.
She ran into the snow from the steps, fell into it and dragged Melody into her arms. Then George was there, and Keith.
“You made it back with Mark, too,” Mona said, but then she looked at Jake.
She didn’t gasp. She stared at him, and she started to laugh.
And she hugged him.
And she said, “I’ll bet Mark is going to be very happy, very happy indeed. Oh, Melody! Melody, Melody! My baby.”
“You know, I am the baby,” Keith said.
“Jerk!” Melody teased.
“Ass!” Keith said. And the two of them hugged one another.
As they all embraced over and over and over again in the yard, it started to snow.
Jake looked up.
It was impossible. It was snowing rose petals.
Melody looked up, too, laughing delightedly. She flew into his arms, and she held him, and the rose petals fell all around them.
He had life, he realized, an amazing gift.
He had love, even more amazing.
He had a future. And that was what he would make of it. No, what they would make of it. Together.
“Home. Here or there,” Melody whispered. “Somehow, I think that we all came home in time for Christmas.”
He kissed her.
He really had to agree.
Epilogue
Christmas
Seven years later
“A story, Uncle Keith, a story!” Serena said. He had just walked in the door, and he was lucky he hadn’t keeled right over, his five-year-old niece met him with such a flurry of excitement.
“Hey,” he protested. “Not ‘Merry Christmas’ or ‘Hello,’ Uncle Keith, you just throw yourself at me and demand a story?” he said.
“She’s very impetuous,” Mark, her twin brother said. “Merry Christmas, Uncle Keith. Please, will you tell us a story?”
“Sure. Just a minute.” The dogs had come rushing in, as well. Brutus and Jimmy. And Cleo checked on him, too, looking around the corner.
The dogs didn’t mind the kids. Cleo was wise to them.
Mark offered Keith a book. A picture book. Keith smiled; he hadn’t seen it in print yet, but he’d known about the conception and he certainly knew the story.
“It came out for Christmas,” Mark informed him. He was by far the more solemn of the two. A minute and half younger than his sister. Poor kid—Keith knew what it was like to be a younger brother. Then again, he knew that while Serena might walk all over her more-serious brother now and then, she’d fight for him with narrowed eyes and clenched fists anytime he was attacked by anyone else.
“You already know this story,” he told them.
“It’s a true story. It’s about Daddy’s great-great-great—a million greats—grandparents,” Serena said. She was like her namesake, a gorgeous little creature with huge eyes and curly hair. “Please, Uncle Keith.”
He looked at the book, and he was very proud of his sister and Jake. He knew that it was being touted in schools around the country. It was an illustrated book on the Revolutionary War that reached out to children, and made them enjoy history
.
Written and illustrated, of course, by the team of Melody and Jake Mallory.
“All right,” he said.
He sat down on the sofa and the kids crawled on either side of him.
“‘Once upon a time, there was a soldier. A very brave soldier, a hero of a war that was fought so that the United States could be the United States. The soldier was captured in New York City, and an officer named Hempton wanted to make a terrible example out of him. He wanted him hanged. But it was Christmas, and the soldier had a sister who knew something about tricks and illusion and magic. Before he could be hanged, his sister arrived, and there was a burst of rose petals in the sky. And the soldier disappeared.’”
“He didn’t really disappear! She just made him appear somewhere else!” Serena interrupted.
“Shh!” Mark insisted.
Keith turned the page.
“‘No one knew what had happened, and the British commander was very embarrassed. Although the British held New York City throughout the war, the major who wanted to be so cruel did not last that long. He was summoned back to Britain by his commanders, and relieved of his duties.’”
“Fired! Yep, his butt was fired!” Serena said.
“Young lady, such language!” Keith chastised.
“Uncle Keith! I didn’t say that his ass was fired, I said his butt was fired,” Serena protested.
“Don’t say either!” Keith told her, trying not to laugh as he reprimanded her. He shook his head. This one was going to be pure mischief. “Are we paying attention, or what?” he asked.
“I’m paying attention,” Mark assured him.
Such precocious five-year-olds! But then again, they spent time with his mother and his father, who was managing new inventions all the time. He had taken a job with the government himself, and then again, the kids had parents who were artists and writers….
They didn’t stand a chance.
“But what happened with the soldier?” Mark demanded.
He knew, of course, he just wanted more of the story.
Keith turned another page. He smiled. The sketch of Serena looked back at him.
“‘Well, here’s the thing. The soldier’s sister wasn’t really his sister. She had been raised by the family after her own parents had been killed during the French and Indian War that had been fought before the Revolutionary War.’”
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