Chapter 8
“So, here’s what I think would work best,” Devon said the next morning over breakfast. “If we go at night, we’re less likely to have to communicate with anyone.
A modern power tool should break through wooden doors and even iron bars, if we have enough time.
A battery-operated angle grinder should do it.
We must bring a weapon, though, just in case we run into trouble. ”
“We?”
“I’m coming with you. Don’t even think about going without me.”
“But a weapon? No! What if we accidentally kill off someone important by killing their ancestor?”
“True. A stun-gun, then. We could probably dodge a musket ball and stun an attacker at the same time.”
“Okay. That might work. At least we wouldn’t kill anybody. Do you have a taser?”
“No. Do they require a permit here?”
“I can probably drive to New Hampshire and buy anything I want. They have very lax weaponry laws as opposed to those in Massachusetts. Our state has very strict laws. I could probably get one at a New Hampshire gun show.”
“I’m not used to state governments being so drastically different. In England, gun laws are strictly enforced, countrywide. You Yanks, however, can pick and choose your laws by choosing what state to live in.”
“To an extent, I guess. Maybe there’s a spell I can prepare that will mask our presence—that’s assuming we can find that portal along the river.”
“How long do you think a portal would remain open?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never heard of any, have you?”
“There are rumors of such things in Glastonbury. Perhaps I can call someone back there and inquire.”
“That would be helpful. Meanwhile, I need to call some costume shops or theater groups to see if they have any costumes from the 1600s. The Crucible is a fairly common play in this area.”
“Good. Perhaps you can start there. Hopefully, they’ve done their research on the period garments.”
Freya grabbed the old phone book from the bookshelf and flipped to the yellow pages. “I’ll be sure to ask. If all else fails, I can sew. I’ll just need to adapt a pattern and find material they would have had.”
“Wool, most likely,” Devon said.
“Right. And cotton or muslin for their white collars and bonnets.”
“And nothing with a pattern or color. They were Puritans, after all,” Devon said.
“I hope the theater has the authenticity we need. I’m not sure about the buckles on the shoes or boots, or whatever else I might screw up.” She found the theater section in the yellow pages and began to dial.
“I’ll step outside and make my call,” Devon said.
That gave Freya time for a quick spell. She breathed deep pranic breaths and connected to the divine. “Goddess, hear my plea. Find us the costumes we need, easily.” She dialed the number of the largest theater ad in the phone book. Finally, she said, “If it be for the good of most, so mote it be.”
A pleasant-sounding female voice answered the phone. “Hello. Newburyport Theater.”
“Hello!” Sheesh, Freya, try not to sound so desperate. “Uh … I’m looking for a couple of costumes I can beg, borrow, or buy from you.”
The woman laughed. “What kind of costumes?”
Something authentic that Puritans would wear in the late 1600s, perhaps from the play, The Crucible? I need one for a man and one for a woman.”
“Ah, yes. We put on that production every couple of years. It’s a perennial favorite, so I’m betting we have those in storage.”
“Excellent! When can I come and get them? It’s kind of urgent.”
“I see. Well, I’ll have to ask someone from our costume design department if we can spare one of each. Is there a number where I can call you back?”
Freya gave the woman her cell phone number, in case she was out, chasing down a taser.
Fortunately, a quick search on the Internet pointed Freya to a Sporting Goods store that had tasers for sale. Devon had gone to a Hardware store for the angle grinder tool they would need to saw through the jail’s iron bars.
Later, Devon told her he had spoken with a couple of people in Glastonbury who claimed to have traveled through time.
They couldn’t tell him how long a portal would remain open, but they’d given him a hint on how to find it.
They said that he might notice a wavy appearance in the air.
That might be hard to see in the dark, but they had to try.
Their errands took all day, but if they wished to travel at night, that was fine, as long as the time period in which they arrived was also in darkness.
The sun set a little after four in the afternoon. When Devon mentioned having a full stomach before they left, “just in case,” Freya started to get scared. She knew he must mean, ‘in case they couldn’t get back right away’ or at all.
She spent the time it took to make a couple of filling sandwiches to psych herself up for their adventure.
Sitting at her kitchen table, Devon said, “I believe things could go one of three ways. One, we get all dressed up, take a knapsack with the food and tools, and follow the river to no avail. Or two, we find the portal and go through it to a different time period than the one we’re looking for.
And finally, three, we find the correct portal that leads us to the correct time and place. ”
“Four,” Freya interjected, “if we wind up going through a future portal… I can’t imagine what the world will be like in, say, a hundred or two hundred years.”
“Yes, there’s that too. Let’s concentrate on reaching them in the past. The rest we can deal with if we have to.”
“Yes. Good point. And we’re going to need to light our way. How are we going to look as if we belong, if we bring a flashlight?”
Devon didn’t answer right away. “Perhaps we can use it only to find the portal. Do you have a lantern we can use once we’re through?”
“No. But we can hide the flashlight on the other side, in case we need to prove we’re from the future.”
“Why would we want to do that?” Devon rubbed his affected leg. She noticed he did that sometimes, probably absent-mindedly.
She set a couple of sandwiches on the table and poured them both a glass of water.
“I should pack some water for my grandma and sister, also some medicinal herbs. I’m sure they’re dehydrated. They didn’t look well when I saw them during my astral projection.”
“Let’s puzzle out anything else we might need while we eat.” He rose and proceeded to the coatrack beside the door, then withdrew a small notepad and pen from his coat pocket.
Sitting back down, he said, “I always make a packing list when I travel.” A smile let her know he was trying to lighten the mood. Unfortunately, it wasn’t working. Her mood was still dreadful.
At last, they were packed and ready to go. Freya had forced herself to change her mood from negatively stressed to nervously excited. Devon seemed to be in that frame of mind too. They locked the cottage and strolled to the narrow river out back.
“I don't think we should say we’re from the future, under any circumstances."
Freya giggled. "Not even if they're about to hang us?"
Devon reached over and took her hand as they strolled along the river. "I guess if they're about to hang us, telling the truth couldn’t do any more harm. They’d already be convinced we were in league with the devil."
"I was just joking,” Freya said.
They walked on in companionable silence for a few minutes. Freya turned on the flashlight and scanned the air in front of them, looking for some kind of rippling effect.
"Do you think we will really find the portal?" Devon asked.
Freya shrugged. “I think we have to try. Unless…" She looked over at Devon and stared at him intently.
"Unless?"
Freya shook her head. “You don't have to do this, you know. This is my family. I can't imagine why you would risk your own life for them. You don't even know them."
Devon glanced up at the stars in the night sky. She didn't know if he was planning to answer her at all.
"Before I met you, my life was boring,” he said. “I mean, facts and figures all day, so really boring. It's been anything but boring ever since." He squeezed her hand.
She smiled at him but muttered under her breath, "But risking your life? Nobody's that bored."
Devon dropped the satchel on the ground and turned her to face him.
He held both of her arms and stared into her eyes.
Instead of saying anything, he just pulled her close for a long, deep kiss.
Freya never felt as treasured as she did in Devon's arms. He treated her like she was precious. Probably the way guys should have treated her all along but didn’t.
She returned his kiss, dropping the flashlight and winding her arms around his shoulders.
She cupped his head and pulled him closer, holding him while she explored his mouth with her tongue.
He returned her passionate kiss enthusiastically. When they broke apart, they were panting.
"If we do much more of that, we will never accomplish our goal," Devon said.
"Hey, you started it." Freya picked up the flashlight and bumped his arm playfully.
"You're quite right." Devon picked up the satchel carrying the battery-powered angle grinder, some rope, and two tasers.
Freya bought one and Devon bought the other, but at least they were prepared for just about anything.
Freya had remembered seeing old reruns of the show Star Trek and had laughed about setting their weapons on ‘stun’.
The only major thing they were not prepared for was speaking to someone in the dialect of seventeenth-century America.