15. Chapter 15
Chapter 15
E mily stared at the barren, snow-topped trees along the interstate. The silence in the car was palpable, not made any better by the hushed radio playing Christmas jingles. Meeting Dad at the airport went as well as it could: he said she looked healthy, she replied the same, and off they went.
She’d stolen a few looks at him on the way. Were those new strands of gray in his dark brown hair? He did still look good, healthy. She shared a few similarities with him—the green eyes, and a slightly less prominent version of his square jaw.
She counted time passed with the interchanging songs. First, second, third—is it possible they’d only been driving for fifteen minutes? Tall, industrial buildings of downtown Hartford grew in the distance and finally replaced the trees. Who knew car rides could be so torturous?
“Where are we staying?” Emily broke the silence. Her voice sounded strange—too practiced.
“I made us a reservation at a B she couldn’t just pop back and ask for Fabienne. Even she knew that would be dumb. She needed a plan. Perhaps… a literal one.
She leaned in closer to one of the maps showing the city in the early 20th century. As she moved on to the next one—an engraving—she noticed they both had a name in the corner: Harold Merryweather.
“Those are my husband’s,” Millie’s voice came from behind. “He’s a collector. I see Benny’s run off and left you all alone. I’ll have words with him—”
“It’s fine.” Emily brushed it off with a smile. “I’ve stuff to do, too. Your husband… would he have any maps from the Civil War era?”
“Oh, boy.” Millie’s eyes glistened with an amused warning. “Don’t get me started.”
The next few hours passed in the guest lounge, where Harold Merryweather had brought heaps of books to help Emily in her quest.
Fabienne had only made a few mentions that helped Emily locate the Marshall House. She knew approximately how the house looked and that it was located west of the city. Based on other random mentions, she tried to reverse-engineer its position by figuring out distances and travel speed. As a new group of guests arrived, Harold allowed her to carry some of his stuff back to her room, where she could finish the research in peace.
The good news was that Emily was already close to her location. If she was right, this was the exact neighborhood where Fabienne used to live. Dad may not be the best parent, but he sure knew how to pick his lodgings.
The bad news was that she couldn’t pinpoint the house's exact location. She could turn up anywhere—in the middle of the road, in someone’s bedroom.
Probably naked.
Another travel she’d made since the cemetery confirmed this would be the case when she traveled outside her lifespan. Her best explanation was that she appeared as some sort of a clone in the past. She was material, since she could interact with objects and feel sensations on her skin. But her body didn’t exist in that time—hence, a clone. It looked like the Great Time Travel Force couldn’t do the same for clothing, though.
She hoped the clone disappeared after she returned to the present. She heard no rumors of a time-traveling naked teenager being found at the Bonaventure Cemetery in the 70s—and with the gossip at the hair salon, she’d heard it all by now—so she assumed her past self was gone.
Sitting on her bed, she set the watch to the fall of 1864 and curled into a ball. Not very dignified, but if she popped up in someone’s bedroom without clothes, she preferred not to be sprawled out on the bed.
“Please don’t let it be a bedroom,” she repeated as a prayer as she waited for the familiar punch . The pressure changed, her vision blurred, and… she wasn’t in a bedroom.
A forest. Emily breathed a sigh of relief. In the crisp air, goosebumps spread across her uncovered arms. Cold, but doable.
Cover first. She grabbed a few colorfully leaved branches from a nearby bush. It couldn’t be called a dress, and it was itchy as hell, but at least she wasn’t stark naked. Plus, hey—camouflage!
Hunched down, she stuck to a muddy path, wincing at the nasty squelching noises her bare feet made. Nicky would probably tell her it’s good for the skin.
The trees soon cleared and revealed a quaint house down by a gravel road. A collection of drying clothes fluttered in the breeze. Bingo! With a glance around to confirm the coast was clear, Emily ran to them. She sifted among the white tent-like nightgowns—who wore these, a grandma?—and landed on a matching skirt and bodice in a charming brown color. At least it would match the mud on her feet.
As she dressed, a door creaked. She flattened herself against the wall and moved, crab-like, to the back. A tall, thin woman exited the house in front and continued down the road.
If this was the right area, Fabienne’s house would be at the end of the road. The quiet neighborhood, surrounded by forests, definitely matched the description. Emily cut a path across the meadow, keeping the road in sight, and progressed west. Muttering as the grass stung her feet, she ascended a low hill and paused at the top.
The house. An instinct, or something like a déjà vu, told her it was the right one. Elated, she ran down the hill. The stables weren’t far from the main building, and she used them as a cover for her approach. The whinnying of horses would conceal any sounds she made.
A door at the back was ajar. She risked a peek. Empty. Ugh, and smelly. There were two main compartments: one that housed three horses, and another over a half-wall to the right, the shiny exterior of a carriage visible behind it.
Whistling came from the open front entrance, and she ducked back. Crunching footsteps… coming closer… stopping inside the stables.
“There you are,” a male voice said.
Emily froze until she realized he didn’t mean her. She was still unnoticed; the man was talking to someone inside. She peeked through a crack in the wood boards.
He stood by one of the boxes, stretching a hand out to a horse. “That’s my good boy. Did you miss me while I was gone?” The horse whinnied at his gentle voice and nuzzled his hand.
The man’s back was to her, and for the moment, she felt safe observing him. He had blond hair, combed back, and wore a baggy dark brown jacket and gray pants, tucked into knee-high boots. He reached for something in a container affixed to the wall and fed it to the horse. “Just one. I’m sure Matthew gives you too much already.”
A corner of her mouth lifted in a smile. He sounds so nice. Lucky horse.
“Well, if it isn’t the long-lost son.” Another man, with one arm in a sling, appeared and casually leaned on the doorway.
“Son? Did you get something else shaken, rather than your arm?” the blond man spoke.
The other one laughed, and they clasped each other’s shoulders in a friendly manner. “Nice to have you back, Brayden,” the new visitor said, and then continued on with something, but Emily didn’t hear it, because all she could think was— Brayden .
That was Brayden Marshall. The blond one. It had to be him. Fabienne’s husband. Oh, if only she could see him better! She bet he was cute. Fabienne hadn’t made many mentions of him—yet—and Emily hadn’t considered him, being preoccupied with the notion of time travel.
Forget the horse. Lucky Fabienne.
“—coming to dinner, anyway,” Brayden said.
“Caddie will be thrilled. Does she know of your return?”
“She and Fabienne were outside when I arrived.”
“Hmm. Women do tend to have that uncanny sense. Or you two are so connected she could feel your return in her heart.” The man put his good arm over his heart in dramatic flair.
Fabienne had mentioned a few neighbors—he was likely one of them. Jim, maybe? He’d be good friends with Brayden.
A short silence followed, with Brayden hauling over a bucket of water, and then Jim said, quietly, “I know it was you.”
“What?”
“When I was in the field hospital, permission came from Colonel Arnwine that I’d been allowed to recuperate at home. Very generous.” Jim lifted his eyebrows. “Later, I remembered why the name sounded familiar. Isn’t Arnwine one of your politician buddies? What a small world.”
Brayden stayed silent.
“I won’t say I’m not happy to be home,” Jim continued. “But you didn’t have to do it.”
Brayden looked at the wall, avoiding Jim’s gaze. “I owed you one.”
“You don’t owe me anything because of Jared. We were all able to take care of ourselves. You know I never thought it was your fault, regardless of what I may have said at the time.”
“But I was there, and you weren’t.”
“That’s one stupid excuse. If you’re going by that, then no one should ever die as long as someone else is present. If anyone should feel guilty, it’s me. I was his brother. I should’ve gone with him. But, no, I thought it would be funny if our regiment would show up later in gleaming new uniforms, compared to your old and tattered ones.”
“You didn’t mean that.”
“All right, it wasn’t my prime intention, but I did think it,” Jim subsided. “Point is, we all did a lot of stupid things, and lost a lot of time to them.”
He glanced around the stable. Emily ducked, just in case.
“Anyway.” He cleared his throat. “I’m glad you’re back. I won’t intrude upon your homecoming—at least not until dinner.” The cheer she’d heard in his voice at the beginning crept back, though it was still shadowed by something somber.
Jim’s footsteps crunched as he walked out. Brayden murmured something to the horse and left, too.
After a few minutes, Emily dared to move. She used several bushes and an outhouse as covers to do a circle around the house. No one, save for an older servant, appeared. The dress got uncomfortable and itchy, and her feet were cold. She’d have to finish this some other time.
She returned to the starting spot in the woods. The dress would be useful, so she folded it and hid it in a hollow tree trunk. That problem was solved.
Next time, she’d also try to get some shoes.