If I Never Get Back

thinking me nuts.

I’ve spotted Clara Antonia twice in recent weeks. There’s no particular cause, no pattern that I can see. She didn’t call out again, but our eyes met. Once she waved, once nodded.

I keep the tiny piece of Cait’s fabric inside my watch. It’s always in my pocket. I take the quilt with me everywhere in a locked carrying case. They tease me at work about it. I don’t care. I’m packed and ready to go.

I see them clearly: Cait and Timmy and Andy and Harry and Johnny and George and Brainard and all the rest.

In the autumn of 1869 the world is younger. And yes, more innocent. They are waiting.

My lovely Cait is waiting for me.

I don’t know when, but I know I’m going back.

I can feel it.