21
FINN
He woke on his side, choking.
The sickness came quickly. The ground slanted beneath him as if he were falling. He hit the ground, rolled onto his knees, and retched until there was nothing left.
When the worst of it passed, he stayed where he was, breathing carefully, waiting for the world to stop swimming. His arms felt heavy and useless.
Just like the first time, he thought.
When he lifted his head, the first thing he noticed was the light.
Sunlight filtered through new leaves overhead, thick and green. Birds called from the branches. The air was warmer than it had been before, not the brittle cold of winter.
Finn pushed himself to his feet and turned slowly.
The shed was gone.
Only splintered boards lay scattered across the ground, damp and tangled with weeds that had grown unchecked. Moss crept across stones that had once formed part of the foundation. The shed that had once stood here, their refuge, had been gone long enough for the land to begin reclaiming it.
“How long?” he muttered to himself.
He turned to the machine.
It lay where he’d landed, on its side, half-sunk into soft earth.
The control box was intact. He forced his hands to stop shaking and wiped dirt from the faceplate.
He examined the settings. He had been careful, setting them so the sun would tell him if he have moved forward by only hours.
He had planned to return the same day before Cecily woke, before she could even wonder where he’d gone.
What had gone wrong?
He pulled the canvas free and dragged the machine deeper into the trees, covering it with brush and leaves until it vanished. It wasn’t well hidden, but it was hidden enough for now. Then he turned toward town.
∞∞∞
At first, nothing seemed different as he approached Marrowden, but then he noticed the changes. He saw new repairs on old buildings, a different banner hanging near the square.
The physician’s house stood where it always had. Finn hesitated at the door, then he rapped once firmly.
Master Nicholas opened it himself. He stared.
“By God, it’s you,” the physician said slowly.
“Yes,” Finn said. “I… what…” Finally, he said, “How long have I been gone?”
“It’s early summer, lad,” Master Nicholas said, pulling him inside.
“What year?”
“The year of our Lord twelve hundred and ninety-eight.”
More than a year! The words landed hard. It felt like the ground beneath him had given way.
“Cecily?” he finally asked.
Nicholas’s expression shifted to something more somber.
“She waited for you, son,” Nicholas said. “Every morning, before the household stirred, she walked out to the edge of the woods where you used to come and go. She’d stand there for a little while, looking down the path, then come back to her work. She did it every day for seasons.”
“Where is she?”
“One day a coach came,” Nicholas continued. “A fine carriage. Well-kept horses. A man stepped down and spoke with her.”
Finn shook his head, unable to believe what he was hearing.
“A man? Who?”
Nicholas shook his head. “He didn’t give his name. He was polite. Looked prosperous.”
Prosperous. He couldn’t shake the word.
“She left with him?”
“Yes.”
“Where did he take her?”
“I don’t know,” Nicholas said again. “Toward the road south. Kentward, I’d guess.”
Finn leaned a hand against the door, steadying himself.
Cecily alone. Waiting for him. Leaving with a stranger because she had nothing left to wait for.
Finn ran a hand over the stubble on his chin.
Nicholas watched him for a moment, then went to a small chest and opened it. He counted out a few coins and pressed them into Finn’s palm.
“For the work you did,” he said.
Finn stared at the coins.
“Thank you,” he said hoarsely.
Nicholas nodded once. “I don’t know why you left, son, but go and find her. I pray she’s safe and well.”
Finn nodded, though he had no plan, no clear direction. Only the certainty that standing still would accomplish nothing.
∞∞∞
By dusk, Finn had salvaged what he could of the machine. He fitted together a crude buggy that could bear weight. He dragged the time machine inch by inch, swearing under his breath, until it rested on the frame. He tested the balance. It moved slowly, but it moved.
Kent lay south, toward land he knew well, where there were old hiding places near his family’s estate. Places where the machine could disappear without question.
And somewhere ahead was Cecily.
Finn tightened the last knot and rested his forehead briefly against the iron frame.
“I’m coming,” he said aloud.
The road stretched out before him, long and full of uncertainty.
He adjusted his weight into the rope and didn’t look back.