What if this doesn’t work?
Stop. It will. You survived.
And you’ve come too goddamn far to turn back now.
I let the first rays of morning sun rim my eyelids with gold dust; thousands of crystals spangled to life on the crunchy remains of snow across the yard, dazzling my vision. The screen door squeaked on its hinges behind me; seconds later Tish slipped her arms around my waist. She’d told me about her recent pregnancy and I understood more than anyone the ache of that loss.
“Oh God, Ruthie,” she whispered, anchoring her chin on my shoulder. I felt her trembling and lined my forearms over hers, pressing them more closely to my body.
“I know.”
“Case…”
“I know,” I repeated, squeezing harder. “He’s still out there, I swear to you.”
She shook with quiet sobs.
“They’re all still out there, everyone who was stolen from us.” I stared just to the side of the rising sun, greedy for its warmth and light. “I can feel them.”
“Yes,” she gulped, gaining partial control.
“Then we can’t give up.”
“I love you, Ruthie, you don’t know how much.”
“I do, because I love you the same.”
“Can you believe Derrick is helping us like this?”
“He has his own reasons.”
“I’m scared,” she admitted at last. “So scared. What if…”
The sun cleared the horizon and spilled red-gold fire over the last of the ice on Flickertail.
“No. No more what-ifs.”
Preparations took mere minutes but my impatience grew beyond reason. I wasn’t the least hungry but forced myself to choke down eggs and bacon in the cafe. Derrick and I dressed in warm clothing and snow boots, and packed our coat pockets with granola bars, raisin boxes, and matches.
“Shouldn’t we bring additional items? Weapons? Tents? Water?” Derrick roamed between tables with restless energy, unable to remain still.
“Only what’s touching our bodies will come with us. If we tried to carry anything in our arms, or bring a backpack, it wouldn’t cross through.”
Everyone gathered near and I almost couldn’t bear the collective expectant fear. I focused on Aunt Jilly, who appeared the most calm.
“How long do we allow for your return?” she asked quietly. Over a year had passed in the nineteenth century during my absence but only a matter of months here.
“Give us four weeks, to be safe. If we’re not back by then, you’ll have to pull us back.” We had discussed this possibility last night. We’d long since passed the point of no return, relying completely on faith at this point.
“Ruthie…” Mom cupped my face, tear-streaked but determined to get through this. “You are the bravest woman I know.”
“You are,” Tish agreed, and she, Mom, and Camille enclosed me in a four-way hug.
Shore Leave glowed with sun. I moved from one pair of arms to the next, gaining strength.
“Hurry back to us,” Aunt Jilly said.
“Keep safe.” Mathias held my shoulders, searching my eyes; he’d remained through the night, unwilling to leave Camille’s side, and none of us had slept. Malcolm’s soul inhabited the man before me and now that I’d known Malcolm, I could see him so clearly in Mathias – in his movements, his energy; the deep wells of feeling in his eyes. Just like Miles and Marshall; different men, but the same soul. The recognition was too strong to deny.
“I will,” I promised.
“No point delaying.” Derrick cleared his throat.
“Thank you for this, from the bottom of my heart.” Tish hugged him, hard and fast, and summoned a small piece of her usual attitude. “I never thought I would be saying this to you, Yancy, but take care of yourself. Please.”
Derrick echoed my words. “I will.”
My heartrate had increased, my palms were sweating. Derrick was right; there was nothing to be gained by dallying. Either this would work – or it wouldn’t.
“Should we stay here?” Mom asked, her voice a ghost of its normal self. She and Aunt Jilly were all but leaning on one another for support.
“Yes. Please stay. I want everyone to concentrate on the past along with Derrick and me.” I held out my hands, acting on instinct, and Derrick grasped them, facing me a few feet away from everyone else. He was tall and fit, with sharp features that tended toward arrogant; he bore little resemblance to Fallon or Dredd, despite their shared ancestry. My heart stuttered at the flicker of true fear I witnessed in his eyes, which he quickly, admirably, submerged; I filled my lungs and held the breath.
“What happens now?” he whispered.
“Concentrate.” I squeezed his hands.
He returned the pressure and I closed my eyes, picturing the original homestead that had occupied this space. I envisioned Lorie and Sawyer and their children. I let the date we had chosen – June tenth, 1882 – emblazon itself across my mind. Bright red, flashing and glowing on the backs of my eyelids, I willed us toward that date.
Derrick’s hands began to lose substance. I felt it in the same exact moment, the void of soundless screaming, the passage from one time to another, like a door waiting to be opened by the correct key. Shore Leave, and my family within it, faded to gray static.
Concentrate!
My fingers closed around nothing – Derrick was no longer in the same space.
I felt the pull of time but something was wrong –
When I’d traveled before my body was submerged within seconds, swept beyond my own control into the powerful current that existed outside the usual flow of time. The past was there, close enough to inhale, just behind a layer so thin and gauzy light
