Emily's Song

by Christine Marciniak

  They went downstairs, arm in arm, to find no one around.

  “Where is everyone?” Sam asked Tobias.

  “Mrs. Marshall and Elizabeth went visiting. I believe they went to the Johnsons.”

  Emily felt slightly uneasy at that. Dinah Johnson, the woman who Sam had been engaged to when she met him. Naturally they had not been at the wedding yesterday, but Dinah was still Elizabeth’s best friend.

  “Don’t worry about Dinah,” Sam said, giving her hand a squeeze.

  “She certainly can’t stop you from marrying me now. That deed is done.”

  “Indeed it is.” He gave her a wink and turned back to Tobias “And my father?”

  “Gone to town,” Tobias answered. “Everyone is supposed to be back by dinner. They wanted to give you both some privacy.”

  It wasn’t exactly a honeymoon in Hawaii, but it had been sweet of them.

  “In that case, my wife.” He looked at Emily and grinned, and for a second she thought he was going to suggest they head back upstairs. “Let’s take a walk in the rose garden.”

  That was good, too.

  How any times in the past few weeks had they strolled down to the garden arm in arm. But today she was with her husband. This was her garden. Not exactly hers, but they couldn’t kick her out now. She belonged. It gave everything a brighter tinge, like an Instagram filter.

  The roses were in bloom now, sending their delicate fragrance through the air. They sat on the bench, a bower of roses above them.

  “I want to talk baby names,” Sam said as she settled her skirt around her.

  “Baby names?” Baby names were nowhere near the top of the list of things she thought they should talk about. But yet, she didn’t really want to talk about him going off to war, she didn’t want to discuss the possibility of them never seeing each other again or whether she should stay here and wait to hear of his fate, or go back to her own time where she would be safe. She would stay here of course, as long as there was a chance, but she didn’t particularly want to talk about it.

  “Yes.” There was a very determined tone in his voice. “I know there may be no future for us, but it is also possible that you might get pregnant before I leave.”

  Pregnant. In all of this, how had she not had the same thought? She wasn’t on the pill. They had no condoms. She hadn’t had her period since she’d been back here and attributed that to the way time travel messed with her body, so she had no idea where in her cycle she really was. But pregnant. Good lord, what if she got pregnant and Sam died? She’d be a single mother in the 1860s. Or even worse, what if she went home, pregnant with Sam’s child—how could she ever explain that?

  “And if you do get pregnant, I thought we should discuss possible names.”

  “Of course,” she said, still reeling from the thought. “Would you like Sam, Junior if it’s a boy?” Men often had strong feelings about that. Some definitely wanted a Junior. Others just as adamantly did not. “My friend Dayna and her husband, Johnson want to name their child a combination of both of their names if it’s a boy. DayJon.”

  “DayJon?” He’d been stroking her thumb, but now he froze.

  “Yes. It’s really not that odd sounding a name for my time.” She gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. “I’m not sure we could combine our names. Samily? Emmuel? Samem? Nothing would be quite right.” She laughed, but Sam wasn’t joining in with her, instead he looked alarmed. “What’s the matter?”

  “Come with me.” He stood and held out a hand for her. She took it hesitantly wondering what she could have said that had changed his mood so abruptly. “There’s something you need to hear.”

  “Is everything all right?” she asked as he pulled her toward the stables.

  “You tell me,” he answered which wasn’t an answer at all as far as she was concerned. “Just listen to what Moses has to say.”

  With trepidation she found herself seated on a bale of hay in the stables.

  “Tell her the story, Moses.” Sam stood, arms crossed, beside her.

  Moses let his gaze bounce back and forth between her and Sam and she had the distinct feeling he didn’t want to say anything.

  “Tell her about DayJon,” Sam insisted and a chill enveloped her.

  “What about DayJon?” she asked, attempting to get to her feet. Sam put a restraining hand on her shoulder.

  “Just listen.” He gave her shoulder a squeeze, but she didn’t feel reassured.

  So she listened while Moses told a completely believable story about a man named DayJon who appeared one day and said he was free, that all men were free, but was enslaved simply because of the color of his skin, and one day whipped to death because he would not, or could not conform.

  “Could it be your friend’s son?” Sam asked.

  Emily’s hands were ice cold even though the afternoon was warm.

  “She doesn’t even have a son yet. I mean, they only just got married.” But the thing with time travel, is linear time really had no meaning. So could a yet unborn child of Dayna and Johnson have come here near on sixty years ago? Why not? But what did this mean, other than she had to warn Dayna and Johnson? And what kind of warning exactly would she give? The easiest seemed to be to tell them not to name a child DayJon, then the tragic hero of Moses’ story couldn’t be their child, but was that how things worked? If he had already come back in time, could changing the future change what happened in the past?

  And what if she did get pregnant now? How would that affect future generations?

  It was too much to take in.

  “Sam.” She couldn’t keep her voice from shaking. “Do you suppose I could have a bit of brandy?”

  Some things were easier to deal with after a drink or two.

  Chapter Thirty

  Sam

  Sam sat Emily in one of the chairs in the study and poured brandy into a globe-shaped snifter. He placed the glass in her shaking hands, and she took a sip.

  Color started to return to her cheeks, and he breathed a little easier. It had been wrong of him to bring her to Moses and make her listen to that story, but he thought she should know, but what good did it do to know something like that if there was nothing you could do about it?

  “You can go home…warn her.” The thing was, for her to warn her friend, she would have to leave him. Have to go back to her own time. Of course, if he really should die in battle, it’s what he wanted for her, to be safe among her friends and family. But yet, he didn’t want to admit to himself that he really would die in the war. He wanted to know that she was here, waiting for him. It was a selfish attitude, he admitted, but it was true.

  “This is my home now, isn’t it?” She gazed at him through those big brown eyes and his heart warmed. “I said I’d be here waiting for you, and I will.” It was what he hoped she’d say. “Besides, I don’t see what good it would do even if I did warn her. I mean, Moses remembers it happening, it can’t unhappen, can it?”

  Sam strode to the window and stared out at the pastel woods and fields. Could things unhappen? If Emily had come back from the future and made a life here now, didn’t that change things? Life was much easier to figure out when he had been certain time moved in a straight line.

  He turned back toward Emily, who studied her glass of brandy as if it were a crystal ball and would tell her the answers. “I don’t know,” he said. “I really don’t know.”

  She took another sip of her drink and her face lost that haunted look. She took a deep breath and smiled at him, though the smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. “No matter. There really is nothing I can do about it if it already happened, and if it is destined to happen, there’s no point in my telling Dayna and giving her something to worry about. Even if I could. And in the meantime, we have a week left to enjoy being husband and wife, we shouldn’t waste it.”

  He gave her what he hoped was a seductive wink. “You want to go back upstairs already?”

  She laughed, and even her eyes twinkled. “Oh, maybe no
t quite yet. Soon, though. I thought we could perhaps finish our walk in the rose garden. We were going to discuss baby names, if I remember correctly.”

  He took her hand and helped her up, she left the half empty brandy glass on the desk and they headed back outside.

  The walked arm in arm back to the rose garden and it’s entrancing colors and fragrances. The warmth of her, so close, aroused him. He would have preferred if she’d agreed to go right back up to bed. Though, he supposed a bit of fresh air wouldn’t do them any harm.

  “You never did answer if you wanted a Sam Junior or not.” She looked up at him with an elfish smile.

  “Oh, I think so.” He gave her a kiss, because she was his wife and he could. “I’d like to think that I’m the start of a legacy. But what if it’s a girl? Emily Junior?”

  “No, she’d end up being Little Emily and I’d be Big Emily and I couldn’t go through the rest of my life like that.” She laughed and he laughed with her. This was real, talking about baby names with his wife. The war, time travel, that was all an illusion. “I always liked the name Sarah, but I also think I’d like to name a girl after my mother. Her name is Marie.”

  “How about Emma Marie, after you and your mother?” He gently stroked her palm with his thumb.

  “That could work. Though it is all theoretical right now.” She pulled a rose blossom toward her, inhaled, and sighed happily.

  “Oh, I don’t know, we were awfully busy up there, you never know what might have happened.” He grinned, remembering.

  “Would it be good if it had, though?” Her hands going protectively toward her womb.

  “Don’t you think so?” He was surprised how much it hurt that she might not be as enthusiastic about the idea of children as he was.

  “I’m not sure. I don’t want to raise a child alone.” Her voice cracked and suddenly he understood her concerns. “What if…”

  “I’ll come back,” he said with a sudden certainty. He could not imagine not coming back to her, and that had to mean he would. “I’ll come back.”

  She swallowed hard and he saw a tear glisten on her eyelash. “Then I’ll be here, waiting.” She smiled up at him. “Or perhaps, we will be here waiting, if we worked hard enough.”

  He didn’t think he could love her more. He wrapped her in his arms. “Thank you, my love. Thank you.”

  The peaceful reverie was interrupted by the clopping of horse hooves echoing up from the road.

  “Someone is home.” He tilted his head to listen. “One horse, so it’s probably Father come from town. I’m sure Mother and Elizabeth took the carriage.”

  He tucked Emily’s hand into the crook of his elbow and led her out of the rose garden to greet his father. Only, it wasn’t his father who rode up, but George.

  “Sam, Sam!” George called out when he saw him. “I just saw Yuengling. He’s got orders. We leave tomorrow.”

  Emily clutched at his arm and Sam’s shoulders slumped as he deflated with dismay.

  “Tomorrow?” He nearly choked on the word.

  “I know, I know,” George said, from atop his horse. “I told Yuengling you were newly married, but he didn’t have much sympathy. His own wife is way past when they expected her baby to deliver. He hoped he could hold his babe before he left.”

  “I thought we’d have nearly a week more.” Tomorrow? The word echoed through his brain like a death knell. How could he leave Emily tomorrow?

  “Be glad the word didn’t come that we had to leave before your wedding,” George pointed out. He tipped his hat to Emily. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Marshall.”

  “What time?” Emily asked him, her voice surprisingly strong. “Tomorrow, but what time?”

  “Dawn,” George answered. “He wants everyone to muster tonight so he can march out at first light. I convinced him that you could be trusted to get there by the time he leaves, and he agreed. See, he does have some sympathy for your plight after all.”

  One more night. That’s all they would have together. It wasn’t nearly enough. Not nearly enough.

  “I better go,” George said, with a glance toward the position of the sun. “I need to get ready. I don’t have an excuse not to show up tonight. At least I get one more good meal at home. I’ll see you in the morning.” He rode off, leaving Sam feeling like the world had dropped away from him. One more night.

  “I’m sorry.” The words sounding thick to his ears. “I’m sorry, Emily. I want more time with you.”

  “At least we have tonight.” He could hear the anguish in her voice. “We have tonight.”

  “It’s not enough.” He pulled her close to him, holding her warm body against his. They should have gotten married earlier. They should have not waited until they were married to bed. Anything so he could have had more time with her.

  “Since it’s all we have,” she said, her voice muffled against his chest. “We’ll make it enough.”

  His father rode up next. “I saw Yuengling. He’s pulling out tomorrow.”

  “I know,” Sam said, still holding Emily to himself. “George was here and told me. I have to meet him before dawn tomorrow.”

  “It’s not a lot of time.” His father’s eyes held so much sadness Sam thought his heart would break.

  “No, but I’m essentially packed. I…” He squeezed Emily a little tighter.

  “As I said,” his father said, his voice full of sympathy. “It’s not a lot of time.” He cleared his throat. “Your mother will not be happy.”

  “No one’s going to be happy about it,” he said taking a deep breath to fortify himself. “We’ll have to make do.”

  His father went inside giving him a little bit of privacy with Emily. “I’m going to have to spend some of this evening with my parents, you do understand?”

  “Of course I do,” she said, looking up to his face. “As long as you come up to my bed tonight, I can’t ask much more.”

  “You’ll have that. I promise you’ll have that.”

  If he had his way, he’d take her up to their bed right now and not stop making love to her until he had to dress and leave in the wee hours of the morning.

  “I’ll be back,” he murmured into her hair.

  “I know,” she answered, holding him tight.

  Did either of them really believe it? He wasn’t sure.

  “The picture!” Emily said suddenly.

  “What picture?” he asked, still imagining himself in bed with her.

  “The photograph. Do you think there is time to get it done?” She sounded so concerned that Sam decided that it was of the utmost importance.

  “Yes.” He looked down into her eager face. “Should we put on our wedding clothes again?”

  “Is there time? Oughtn’t we to hurry?”

  “We’ll make time.” He called to a passing slave child to find Beck to help Emily dress. They went upstairs, and he put on his uniform. When he first put on the jacket yesterday, it had felt new and special and made him feel important, but now he realized he’d be wearing it all the time. Suddenly it didn’t seem quite so wonderful.

  Within half an hour, he and his wife were riding into town in the buggy, dressed once again in their finery from the night before. “I’m so sorry I have to leave so soon.” He must have said it a hundred times already.

  “Stop apologizing.” She laid a comforting hand on his knee. “We knew we wouldn’t have much time; we just didn’t realize how little we would have. But we’ll make the most of it. One day, one week, what’s important is that we are together, and you are my husband.”

  He squeezed her hand. It was hard to find small talk though, his departure loomed over everything, but yet neither of them wanted to discuss that more than necessary. Maybe if they had known each other longer they would have other topics to fall back on. Maybe not. War stole all conversation from everyone these days.

  “Elsbeth!” he said suddenly remembering the part of the story Moses hadn’t told.

  “Are we still talking baby names?”
Emily asked, rightly confused by his outburst.

  “No.” She needed to know this. It could make the difference between her getting home safely and being stuck here without him should the worst happen. “Moses didn’t tell you everything. He told you about DayJon, but he didn’t tell you about Elsbeth.”

  “She’s someone else, who came here, out of time?” Her voice rose a little in excitement.

  “No. She left here. She was my grandfather’s sister and disappeared without a trace right before she was to be married. Her portrait hangs in the hall. Moses says when the fairies bring someone here they take someone away.” He turned the buggy down the road toward town.

  “Did anyone disappear when I came?” Emily asked.

  “No. But of course, we know it’s not the fairies.”

  “Oh, I don’t know. Fairies make as much sense as time portal fishing pond,” she said with a wry laugh. She stared at the passing trees for a moment before speaking again. “Do you think she went to the past?”

  “I don’t know,” Sam answered truthfully. Her disappearance may have had nothing to do with time travel at all. “But I thought, before I left, I should make sure you knew. It might end up being a helpful clue at some point.”

  She squeezed his knee.

  “Thank you, but it won’t matter. I don’t need clues. I’m staying here, waiting for you to come home from war.”

  He certainly wasn’t going to contradict that sentiment.

  They pulled up in front of the photographer’s studio. The door was closed and shade drawn.

  “We’re too late!” Emily lamented.

  “No.” He hopped out of the buggy. “Wait here. I’ll get him.” He tied the reins to the hitching post and went around the back of the storefront, where he knew Mr. Edwards had his private quarters. He pounded on the door, and Mr. Edwards, in shirt sleeves, his tie untied, answered the door.

  “What can I do for you, Sam?”

  “I need you to make a picture for me.” He tried to keep his voice calm and professional. He wasn’t sure he succeeded.

  “Tomorrow morning,” Mr. Edwards said. “First thing. I’ve got some other appointments, but I’ll squeeze you in.”