Chapter 7 #2
“Elizabeth Preston Kendal, Bess, was the finest woman I’ve ever known,” he said.
“Her short life was marked with tragedy and pain, but she was strong and brave and good.” He paused again and looked at Johnnie, who was still holding my hand.
Sam’s gaze lifted to mine briefly, and I saw appreciation in their depths before he continued.
“Bess leaves behind a son, Johnnie Kendal, and countless friends here and in London. She professed her faith in Christ, though she struggled to believe in God’s goodness after—” His voice broke, and he looked down at the ground for several moments, collecting his emotions.
“It is my deepest prayer that she made peace with God before she left this world and that she is at home with Him in heaven at this very moment. I know, despite her suffering, God loved her, just as He loves us. And I believe there was a purpose in her pain. Perhaps she didn’t get to see it in the land of the living, but God’s work is never in vain, and there will be redemption for her faithfulness.
“But for us, who are left to grieve, I pray we can take comfort in the prophet Isaiah’s words, that God would give us ‘beauty for ashes, the oil of joy for mourning, the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness’; that we might be called ‘trees of righteousness, the planting of the Lord, that he might be glorified.’”
I was surprised at his sincere words. They warmed my heart in unexpected ways and upended more of my preconceived ideas about Sam Kendal.
Who was this man before me? His sheer size, scarred appearance, and complicated past told one story, yet his faith-filled words and love for his family told another.
After saying a prayer, he walked over to Johnnie and took him to the grave to throw dirt onto the coffin. Then he lifted the boy into his arms and strode away from the cemetery without a backward glance.
Darkness had fallen on San Francisco, and with it, the sounds of Sydney Town increased in volume. The gambling hall next door was especially loud as I helped Johnnie, Hazel, and Father into bed that night.
“I can sleep on the pallet,” Father said as I pulled a blanket over the children on the floor next to the bed. “It isn’t right that I’m in this massive bed and the rest of you are sleeping on the floor.”
I had cleaned the room after Bess’s funeral and changed the bedding, then Paddy helped me bring Father downstairs so I could keep a better eye on him.
Hazel had insisted that she sleep next to Johnnie on the floor to keep him company so he wouldn’t be afraid, and I would take the other pallet on the opposite side of the small room.
It would be crowded, but it offered a bit more privacy and safety for the four of us.
“I won’t hear of it,” I told him. “You need to get better, and the only way to do that is to be comfortable and rest.”
He mumbled under his breath, though I knew he didn’t have enough strength to put up a real fight.
Johnnie looked at me with his big brown eyes, and my heart broke all over again. Not only had he lost his mother, but he had no way of communicating his pain or fear. I laid my hand on his cheek, like I had done earlier, and smiled at him. “Did your mama pray for you at night?”
He didn’t speak or nod his head, but I saw the truth in his eyes. He’d had a praying mama.
“I’ll say a blessing for you and Hazel,” I told him. “‘The Lord bless thee—”
“Wait,” Hazel said as she took Johnnie’s hand in hers. “He needs me to hold his hand. It makes us feel better.”
I smiled to myself and nodded, then started over. “‘The Lord bless thee, and keep thee: the Lord make his face shine upon thee, and be gracious unto thee: the Lord lift up his countenance upon thee, and give thee peace.’”
“Can I pray for a kitty?” Hazel asked as they stared up at me. “Will God give one to me if I ask Him, Ally?”
I wasn’t sure how to answer.
“You can ask God for anything you’d like,” I finally said. “But it’s up to Him to decide what is best for you.”
“He’ll give me a kitty if it’s best for me?”
“Yes.”
“A kitty would be very good for me,” she said with a grin, as if it was a done deal. “And for Johnnie. I’ll tell God that tonight.”
I longed to give her the desire of her heart, but things were so uncertain.
After kissing their foreheads and saying good night to Father, I picked up the lantern and took a deep breath.
Sam had been in the kitchen when I took the children to bed, and I half hoped he’d still be there.
I needed to understand this man who had asked me to work for him, and I wanted to discuss the terms of our agreement.
I still hoped and prayed Father would get well enough to go to the goldfields, but in the meantime, I had to work for Sam.
Yet, I was terrified just thinking about it.
I also wanted to learn more about Bess and Cole and try to discover what Bess had changed. Would Sam know?
I left the bedroom, closing the door behind me, and entered the kitchen.
Sam sat on a stool near the table where a single candle glowed, a cup of coffee in front of him. Sorrow filled his face as he met my gaze. “How is Johnnie?”
“I’m not sure.” I hesitated near the door but knew that there was only one way to get my answers. “May I join you?”
He stood and went to the cupboard, where he took out a cup and then filled it with coffee from the pot on the stove. He returned to the table and set it down across from his.
I lowered to the stool and wrapped my hands around the cup, but I did not take a sip. He sat down again. Neither of us spoke, though I had so many things I wanted to say.
“Thank you for helping today,” he finally said. “I owe you a great debt for looking after Johnnie.”
“And I owe you a great debt for giving us a place to live and work. Let’s call it even.”
His mouth softened, though he didn’t quite smile. “Good. I don’t like to owe debts.”
“Neither do I.”
He took a sip of his coffee, and I cleared my throat, knowing I wouldn’t find the courage to talk to him unless I just dove in. “Why doesn’t Johnnie speak? Has it always been that way?”
Sam fiddled with his coffee cup. “No. He spoke like a normal child for the first few years.”
I waited, but he didn’t continue. Leaning forward, I pleaded, “I can’t help unless I understand. And I want to help. I was a teacher in Massachusetts before we came here. I never encountered a child who couldn’t speak, but I did help those with troubles—”
“Johnnie can speak. He just chooses not to.”
I sat back, surprised. “Why?”
He looked away, visibly upset, and I worried I had pushed too hard. But I needed answers. “Please tell me.”
“He was told not to.”
I stared at him, confused. “What do you mean?”
“The night his father was murdered.” Sam rose from the stool and crossed the room, running his hand over the back of his neck.
“His father was murdered?” I paused. “But wasn’t his father your brother?”
“Yes.”
“Why was Johnnie told not to speak that night?”
“Because he witnessed it.”
My heart twisted at the pain and tragedy Johnnie had endured. How could God bring beauty from the ashes of his young life? His suffering made no sense. He was not guilty of anything, so why was he serving a life sentence?
“And he hasn’t spoken since then?” I whispered.
“No.”
“How long ago was that?”
“It happened four years ago, when he was three.”
I clutched the coffee cup, my throat too tight to drink, but I was able to say, “What did you know about Bess?”
“What do you mean?”
I couldn’t come right out and ask if he knew she was a time-crosser because if he didn’t know, he’d think I had lost my mind. I needed to find a way to ask without giving away too much.
“She had a birthmark on the back of her head.” I watched him for any signs of recognition. “Did she ever talk about it?”
He frowned, drawing the scar in his eyebrow into a strange pattern. “No.”
“Did she talk about her life? About anything strange or unusual?”
Sam returned to the table and took a seat on the stool.
“What are you trying to ask me, Miss Adams? Did I know her before she met my brother? Yes. She was from a good family in London. Her father was a member of parliament, and we met at church when she was just sixteen.” His jaw tightened when he said, “I was the one who introduced her to my older brother, something I have regretted every day since.”
The pain and frustration and anger in his tone made me curious about his brother, but I pressed on, needing to know if he was aware of her time-crossing ability. “Did she ever say anything about a different life? In a different time and place?”
He stared at me, a myriad of emotions and thoughts playing across his face.
We sat in silence for several heartbeats, and then he said, “Yes.”
Relief made my shoulders lower. He wouldn’t think I’d lost my mind.
“How did you know?” he asked.
“Her birthmark. It means she was a time-crosser.”
He squinted. “A what?”
“It means she lived two different lives, at the same time. She lived here and then in a time somewhere else, though I’m not sure if she went backward in time from here or if her other life is in the future.”
“It’s in the future.” He rose again, this time slowly and deliberately as he continued to watch me. “How do you know about that?”
I had never told anyone in this path I was a time-crosser. Only my family in 1929 knew the truth because so many of them were time-crossers. Even Lydia, who was playing the part of Amy, was a time-crosser.
It wasn’t easy to admit the truth to a stranger.
“I’m a time-crosser,” I said.
He briefly closed his eyes, almost in disappointment, and then said, “It’s because she was a time-crosser that all of this happened.”
“All of what?”
“This.” He motioned to the room around him.
I frowned and shook my head. “I don’t understand.”
Sam leaned on the table, his face coming closer to mine.
“It’s because Bess was a time-crosser that her husband was murdered, I was sent to the penal colony in Australia, and then I brought her here to this godforsaken place.
It’s because Bess was a time-crosser that Paddy struggles to speak and Johnnie doesn’t speak at all. ”
All I could do was frown in confusion.
He sat straight. “And if you’re a time-crosser, what pain and destruction will you cause in my life?”
“None, I hope. I—I don’t understand what one thing has to do with the other. I’ve never hurt anyone.”
“Bess didn’t do any of it on purpose, Miss Adams, just as you won’t.”
Though I was much shorter than him, I tried to make myself appear taller. “It wasn’t her fault that she was a time-crosser, and though I don’t understand what happened to cause all of this”—I motioned to the room like he had—“I know that it had nothing to do with her time-crossing.”
He shook his head. “You have no idea, do you?”
“What?”
Sam rubbed his forehead. “Bess didn’t invite any of it. Everything was out of her control, but it did happen because of her time-crossing. In the end, though, she died, and we’re left to pick up the pieces, so I guess it didn’t matter.”
I couldn’t understand why time-crossing would be at fault. I needed to know more. “When was her other time?”
“I don’t know, just that it was in the future. She never told me.”
“What did she tell you about it?”
“Just that she lived two lives.”
“Why would she tell you?”
“To try to make me understand.”
I lifted my hands. “Understand what?”
“Why all of it happened!”
My heart pounded as silence filled the room after his explosive words.
With a sigh, Sam put his face in his hands.
“It doesn’t matter anymore, Miss Adams.” He lowered his hands and met my gaze.
“Bess and Paddy had an affair, my brother caught them, and I was in the wrong place at the wrong time.” He lifted his finger and showed me the M branded there. “Do you know what this means?”
I shook my head, trying to catch up to him. Bess and Paddy?
“It means I’m a marked man, too. Bess was marked as a time-crosser, and I am marked as a murderer.”
My breath caught.
He wrapped his hand around his mug and stared at the table. “I went to the penal colony in New South Wales, Australia, because I was convicted of murdering my brother.”
Without another word, he stood and left the kitchen as I stared after him.
Instead of finding answers, I’d only found more questions.