Perhaps thisfuture Newfoundland won’t be so bad after all. I know I must find away back home, eventually, to correct the threads of time. I don’tbelong here. But, perhaps, I could dabble in a little romance whileI wait. What could it hurt?
Constance
I closed thejournal to let out a deep breath, it felt like I’d been holding itin the whole time. Mom’s storymirrored my own in so many ways. She found herself lost in anothertime, scared, stranded. Then found a man who made her happy, notrealizing how she could fall deeply and dangerously in love like Ihad with Henry. Still, as sweet as it was to see my parents meetthrough my mother’s eyes… I’d yet to find what I truly wanted.Hesitantly, I continued reading.
The further Iread, the further apart the entry dates became. It appeared thatMom had been distracted from her mission of returning home,distracted by the love she felt for Dad. Through my mother’s eyes,I saw how they both fell in love, bought our house, and then,finally, discovered the news they were pregnant with me.
June2nd, 1991
I can feelthe child growing inside me, and my belly is beginning to showsigns of change. I’m constantly tormented by guilt. I should be searching for away home but I’m here, in the future, enthralled with the wonderfullife I’ve fallen into. I fear that if I found a way back now, whilepregnant, I’d retreat further into a shell of despair. I cannot dothat to Arthur, my love, the most wonderful man to ever grace thisEarth. I must set aside my mission until the baby is born. If I’mto break Arthur’s heart someday, I’d like to know he and our childwill have one another to love.
Constance
Knowing mymother truly loved my dad reassured me in a way I didn’t realize Ineeded until then. Through all of this, I wondered and worriedabout her feelings for him. Now I felt bad that I ever doubted her.My shoulder began to throb, so I laid down to take the weight off,refusing to pop any more pain meds. With my good arm, I held up thejournal and continued reading. When I saw the date, my stomachfluttered with an unsettling emotion, a strange mix of fear andexcitement. The date read the second day in December.
Mybirthday.
Dec.2nd, 1991
Time ispassing at a rate I cannot fathom, and each day brings me closer toDianna’s birth. I’d told myself I would set aside my formidablemission of getting home, but I’m weak. I’m also worried. I’ve spentfar too much time in this era, and I fear what my presence has doneto alter the threads of time. Nevertheless, part of me doesn’tcare. Some days I tell myself that I’ll just abandon my quest andstay here, with Arthur, with Dianna. I’m happy. I’m loved.
I write thisas I sit in my new home office and stare out the window, admiringthe reflections on the twilight water, and remembering the night Icame here. It feels like such a long time ago.
And that wasit. That particular entry seemed to drop off. As if Mom had been interrupted and couldn’t finishit. Desperately, I turned the page, eager to find out whathappened.
Dec.3rd, 1991
I’m able tosteal a few precious moments to log this entry, I feel it’simportant I do so. Two life-changing events happened in the course of 24hours. First, Dianna, my sweet and beautiful girl, was born latelast night. I’m completely and utterly drowning in anobsession with herperfection. I never knew love could be this way, to take on a formsuch as this. I can’t imagine ever not loving her. She’s restingsoundly in the bassinet next to my bed, a sleeping Arthur by myside, as I write this.
The secondnotable event is that I found it. I know how to get back. Theproblem I now face is that I can’t bring myself to do it. I cannotleave them. They are my world, and I theirs.
What abittersweet feeling it is.
Constance.
My heart beatwildly as I turned the page, searching for more. She wouldn’t havedone that, would she? After everything, to discover the way back,and not write it down? Page after page, I grew more frantic. Allthat proceeded that last entry was a collection of my childhoodpieced together through my mother’s adoring eyes. Every birthday,every scrape and bruise, major milestones, locks of my hair,handprints, everything. Her private journal had morphed into mybaby book. Mom truly did leave behind her life in favor of the oneshe’d built in the future.
I let out afierce scream and chucked the journal across the room where itsmashed into a wall and fell to the floor. My stomach dropped whenI heard John’s footsteps running up the stairs and down the halltoward my room. He swung open the door and blew in, eyes wide withpanic.
“Jesus,Dianna, are you alright?” he asked and sprinted over to the bedwhere I sat, crying into my hands.
“No!” Iyelled, tears and snot bubbling down my face. “No, I’m not alright.It’s over, it’s all over. I’m stuck here.”
John’sshoulders relaxed as he heaved a sigh and sat down. “Look, I’m notgoing to pretend I don’t see that something’s going on. And I don’texpect you to tell me.” He quirked a smile. “Heck, I’m justthankful that you’ve let me stay here at all. But I just want youto know that I’m here for whatever you need. Friendship or morethan friendship, it’s up to you. I just… I love you, Dianna. I wantyou to know that.”
My lips pursedas I contemplated telling him everything. But I knew, deep down,he’d never be able to accept it.He’d always wonder if the woman he loved was some kind of crazy.And maybe I was. It certainly felt that way. But I had to give himsomething, let him in. He earned that much.
“John,” Icroaked, “I’m pregnant.”
I watched hisface changed and his big blue eyes light up with pure delightbefore I realized what was running through his mind.
“It’s notyours,” I broke it to him, “It’s–” I
