Home in Time for Christmas (21 page)

“Well, we can't,” Keith said “But we know that Melody is fine. And that she'll be home in time for Christmas.”

“Everyone where they belong,” Jake said softly.

Mona suddenly jumped up. “Hot chocolate, anyone? Oh, my daughter is fine, my daughter is fine, and she's a wonderfully clever individual—she wrote to us!”

Brutus, wagging his tail, began to bay along with Mona's words.

Jimmy, not to be outdone, started barking.

Cleo mewed in annoyance, and Mona patted the dogs—and the cat—totally indifferent to the ruckus. “If we're all staying awake, hot chocolate seems like a lovely winter's idea!” Mona said.

Mark hesitated before following Mona. “You go through life, and you find some people who are truly unique and special, and you have friendships. But those really great friendships are few and far between, and hard to come by. You can know someone all your life,
and never really reach that level of friendship. Then you can meet someone, know them for just a few hours, and know that you'd have been friends. Jake, that's you,” Mark said, “and Serena.”

Jake nodded, smiling slowly. “The pleasure, Mark, has been mine. And my sister's, so it seems.”

“I was completely respectful!” Mark said quickly.

Jake laughed. “Mark, I didn't think anything but.”

“All right, all right, cut the goo!” Keith said, pushing his way between them.

Mark seemed to give himself a physical and mental shake. “I'll help you, Mrs. Tarleton,” he told her, as if determined he needed to move.

George silently followed the other two. Jake felt Keith watching him.

“I've got a present for you. Come on upstairs.”

Keith turned, and Jake followed him. They went up to Keith's room where Keith started looking through books of photos on his shelf.

“I have a zillion pictures with Melody in them, of course. But I don't guess a digital snap will look all that good back in your day. She did a self-portrait one day when were together. Chalk. If I can find it. Aha!”

Flipping through the books, Keith came to a stop. There was a picture rendered on a fine, rich paper. It was a self-sketch of Melody. It was titled in her curving script, “A la Norman Rockwell!”

She was at a desk, sketching herself as she looked in a mirror.

“Who was Norman Rockwell?” Jake asked.

“An artist long after your time,” Keith said. He pulled the picture from out of the protective clear sheaf in the book. “It's Melody. Really, Melody.”

And it was. She was laughing, and a bit sheepish. Her hair was slightly askew and wildly sensual as it cascaded haphazardly around her face. The sunlight streaming through the window touched her hair, and there was a happiness, kindness and sense of humor in the rendering that was delightful. It was the woman who had plucked him from the snow, the one who had doubted him, the one who had given him her faith and her home, even without her total belief. He was afraid that his fingers would tremble.

“Merry Christmas,” Keith said. “I really did want to give you a present.”

There was a tap at the door. Mark was there. “Hey, your Mom is getting really agitated. She's still worried, which is natural, I imagine, since she's a mom, and Melody isn't here.”

“Actually, it's odd, I feel that she is here. Somewhere, near. It's almost as if I can smell her perfume,” Jake said.

Keith and Mark exchanged glances. Keith clapped him on the shoulder. “Sure.”

Mark nodded, turned and walked away.

“This is killing you, isn't it?” Keith asked Jake.

“Like being sawed in two,” Jake said.

“Wow. You two really did grow weirdly into being nuts about each other, huh?”

“I suppose that's one way to put it,” Jake said.

“Come on, let's head down. Maybe we ought to throw a bit of whiskey into that hot chocolate.”

Jake thanked Keith again for the sketch. They started out of the room, and he winced.

It was almost as if he could feel her near him.

Maybe it was something he would feel all his life. An “almost.”

A life that might have been…

M
elody had drifted off, though she had been certain that she wouldn't do so. Serena nudged her, and she leaped up with a start.

“It's just about sunrise,” Serena told her.

“Time to get ready. What do I do?” Melody asked.

She was going home. All right, so she was
home,
but she was going home. And she longed to be there because of her mother and father and Keith, and yet she hated to leave this place that had everything to do with Jake.

It was oddly like walking to an accepted execution.

Nothing like! she assured herself. It was what it was. It was what had to be.

“You're bundled up—good. It's cold out,” Serena said. She had a cup waiting on the mantel, and she handed it to Melody to drink.

“Just what is it?” Melody asked.

“Eye of newt, toe of frog,” Serena said.

Melody almost spit it out.

“I'm joking, I'm just joking,” Serena said. “It's herbs. Rose hip, that's one of the main ingredients. Seriously, it might help you make it through a sickness. There's nothing evil in it. I believe it's the same brew your mother is making now.”

“It's—just delicious,” Melody lied.

“Grab one of the lanterns. They have to be set on either side of the old well.”

Melody picked up one of the lanterns. They went out into the crisp, cold winter's day. Melody looked around. Dead tree limbs seemed to drip with a ghostly appeal in the pale gray light. It was beautiful and eerie. There was no one near them, though she heard a horse neighing from the small stable next to the house.

A stable which in her time was long gone.

The lanterns were set precisely—Melody could see that Serena was very careful as she set them down. “You must be exactly between them,” she told Melody.

“All right,” Melody said. She felt just a bit awkward. She walked over to Serena, then decided that if the woman thought she was foolish it wouldn't matter—in only moments, they wouldn't even be living in the same window of time. She gave Serena a fierce hug.

It wasn't awkward. Serena hugged her in return.

“Now, get between the lanterns,” Serena said, moving back. She looked up at the sky. “It's almost time.”

 

They had gathered in the backyard, waiting.

George and Keith brought the wave machines back out and situated them.

Jake stood between them.

He took Mona's hands. “I'll write. I'll leave books where you can find them. I promise you, we'll finish the history of the family, and I'll see that you can find everything. Thank you, Mona. Bless you.”

Mona nodded, tears stinging her eyes.

She touched his hair and his face. “I do need my baby back,” she said.

“I know.”

He shook George's hand solemnly. And hugged Keith.

The potion was waiting to be swallowed down, set in the snow at the spot he must stand.

Jake looked up at the sky. The winter's morning came out of a field of shadows, but the sunrise was coming, and even in winter, there would be pink and yellow and gold streaks, and then a sudden burst of pure light. There were no clouds in the sky this Christmas morning, and there was no threat of snow. Coming…coming…coming…any second.

“Hit your switch, Keith,” George told his son.

The wave machines hummed to life.

Jake walked toward the line between the wave machines and reached down for the potion. To his amazement, he was suddenly shoved.

Mark was there, reaching down for the cup.

“What the hell are you doing?” Jake demanded.

“I can go back for you,” Mark said, his grip on Jake strong, his eyes intense. “What?”

“I can go back,” Mark said. “I have nothing here. You do.”

“I am not letting you sacrifice your life for my commitments!” Jake said incredulously. They were fighting for the cup, but he managed to get his mouth on it and swallow some of the potion.

“You're not paying attention!” Mark said.

“Hey!” Keith called out with concern. “What's going on with you two? The sun is almost up, the door will open…what is going on?”

“Keith?” Mona cried, worried.

“Mark, give me the damn cup!” Jake insisted.

“No, don't you see, I'm the one going back. It makes no sense for you to go back. It makes all the sense in the world for me to do so. Your sister needs someone—but not you. She needs a life. If you go back, you will wind up going back to fight and with your luck, you'll probably get yourself killed—”

“Excuse me!” Jake interrupted.

“Sorry, but it's possible. If I go back to be with Serena, I'll be with her. I'll be there for her night and day. I can write, too, Jake. And with my knowledge of the future, I can write amazing articles for your time. I can even try to give some hints of what to watch out for—I can't change things such as the Revolution, nor can I stop the Civil War or any other war. But maybe my writing can save a few lives.”

“This is preposterous, Mark,” Jake said. “You don't belong back there. This is your world. Your world—with cars and computers and cell phones. You won't be able to make it if you try to go back in time. You saw one aspect of the past, my sister. It's a hard life in comparison. Mark!”

Mark was moving the cup, bringing it to his lips.

“Hey, Mark, get the hell away!” Keith shouted.

But Mark didn't.

The sizzle, the ripple in the area began. And a sound like thunder, as if there had been some kind of a terrible break in the door.

“Wait!” Jake heard Mona cry.

But there was no waiting.

It was as if they moved a trillion light-years in less than the blink of an eye. And he and Mark were still bursting through darkness and flashes of light together.
In a split second, he saw Melody's face, seeming to speed toward them, as if from another galaxy. He saw her expression as she saw his face, the hope, the smile, the pain…

They were passing in time.

Except that they didn't. Perhaps there was some kind of corridor, and the corridor was just too small for three people.

He felt the impact as he and Mark together rammed into Melody. Then suddenly, the world was dark and they were all falling, falling, falling together.

 

“Melody?” Mona said hopefully. “I saw her face for a moment, I know I saw her face. But she isn't here, George, she isn't here!” she cried desperately.

“Mark!” Keith said, shaking his head.

“Mark!” George said furiously.

“Dad, Dad, he was trying to do what he saw as the right thing. But I think…”

“Melody!” Mona said as she sank down upon the back steps, burst into tears.

“Mom, we have sunset. We have sunset, it's going to be all right,” Keith tried to assure her.

She looked up at her son, eyes tear-streaked, indignant. “That's what you said before!”

“How did I know—how could any of us have known that Mark wanted to be some kind of hero?” Keith demanded.

“I'm so afraid. I'm so desperately afraid…if we don't get it right this last time, the door may very well close again for hundreds of years, or whatever. Oh, my God, I can't bear this!” Mona said.

George sat on the step next to her, setting an arm
around her shoulders. “Mona, we're going to bear it, we're going to get through it. Because we have no choice. Yes, things have gone pretty wrong so far. But everyone knows that this might well be the last chance. We all know it. Before sunset, we'll have it all figured out.”

“She's coming home, Mom, trust me, she's coming home,” Keith said, taking his mother's hands. “Melody loves her family, and she knows how much we all love her. She will come back.”

Mona stared at him bleakly. “She loves Jake, too. Oh, yes, I know he just fell into her life. But I can see it in her eyes. She probably didn't want to love him, I mean, let's face it, she thought he was crazy. She's always thought I was a bit crazy, she just loved me anyway.”

“Hey, Mom, we don't choose who we love, and who we love never turns out to be who it should be if you go by things on paper. No one knows what we'll feel when we're close to one another, when we get to know one another…but I do know this. We all bitch, we all whine, and sure, Melody and I complain about the two of you to each other—I mean, get serious, that's what kids are supposed to do—but she'd probably deck anyone else who wanted to mock either of you in anyway. Trust me, Melody will come home,” Keith said.

He smiled at his parents.

Then he mentally applauded himself for his own acting ability.

And he prayed his words were true.

 

Toto, I have a feeling we're not in Kansas anymore.

The quote from the
Wizard of Oz
seemed to scream through Melody's mind as she felt herself land hard in
a huge pile of snow again. It had all been so surreal. Like blinking and being one place and then another, or, even, for a split second in time or in the dream of time, floating through a field of stars at warp speed.

Beam me up, Scotty.

But flying into what had appeared to be Mark and Jake engaged in some kind of wrestler's hold had been real, physical and damn hard. It had knocked the breath out of her.

They had collided.

Collided through time.

She was afraid to open her eyes. Memories of H. G. Wells and
The Time Machine
crashed into her mind along with Toto and Dorothy and Captain Kirk.

Who knew fear could manifest itself in myriad movie references?

Okay. Focus. Where was she? Had they fallen into a different century altogether? Would she open her eyes to find dinosaurs? Ridiculous, she'd never heard of dinosaurs in the snow.

Oh, God, what if they'd gone further back? Into the days of the infamous witchcraft trials. They would be snatched up and brought to trial and oh, God, that would change history and—

“Dear God! What have you all done?”

Melody dared to open her eyes at the sound of Serena's voice. She said a little prayer of thanks. Okay, she hadn't made it home, but at least she had made it back to Serena.

“Melody, Melody!”

Jake was suddenly on his knees, hunched over her where she lay in the snow, staring down at her, his eyes filled with the deepest concern.

“You know, an ‘excuse me' might have worked,” she said, trying to speak lightly. “I could have tried to step aside, let you guys past me.”

He touched her face. His hands were cold; he wore no gloves. And still, they warmed her.

“Mel?” she heard Mark's voice.

“Oh, this is all just dreadful!” Serena said.

“You are all right?” Jake whispered.

She nodded.

He pulled her to her feet, but then he left her, walking over to his sister, looking at her a long moment, smiling, and pulling her into his arms. For a long moment, they stood that way.

Jake pulled away from her. “You saved my life.”

“It was a life worth saving,” she assured him. But then she stepped back and looked at the three of them, one by one.

“What on earth were you thinking?” she demanded.

“Hey, I was here with you,” Melody reminded her. And the thought suddenly made her reel. “Oh, no! Mom, Dad, Keith!”

“What were you thinking?” Serena persisted, focusing the whole of her stare at the two men.

“I was coming home,” Jake said, “where I belonged.” He stepped back, crossing his arms over his chest. “I'll let Mark tell his story.”

Mark looked at Serena, but then looked away.

“Jake could just go get himself killed. And what—you can be there with a bowlful of rose petals every time he gets himself into a scrape with the British?” Mark asked.

Serena frowned. “Jake…Jake will simply have to stay away from the war.”

“That would be desertion,” Jake said quietly.

“You can't desert when you're already supposedly dead!” Serena said. “Dead means that you didn't desert!”

“But, people will know that an escape was somehow miraculously managed,” Jake told her.

“I rest my case!” Mark said.

But Jake spun on Mark. “Look—you don't need to be any kind of hero here. You think I'd be killed by the British? You'd probably pass out the first time you had to cut wood for the winter.”

“Oh, I really resent that!” Mark said. “Three times a week, my friend, I spend two hours at the gym. They say we look alike? Well, you're puny next to me!”

Melody looked over at Serena.

Serena looked at Melody.

“I don't believe this!” Melody said.

“Neither do I. Want some tea? Something stronger, something warm? It's cold out here. And we have hours and hours to wait for sunset.”

“Yes, let's go in. I am quite cold,” Melody agreed.

“Puny—oh, yes, indeed, Mark. Puny. Because I'm raw muscle while you're walking around with a layer of twenty-first-century fat encasing your body.”

“Fat?” Mark said. “Why—”

Melody didn't make it into the house. She stopped, turned around and raced between the two of them. She knew that neither would strike her.

She pushed one man, and then the other.

“What the hell is the matter with you two? Stop it, stop it now! Or, go ahead. Beat each other up in the snow. That will be great, and oh, so helpful!”

The men fell silent. Then Jake said, “Mark. I know
what you were trying to do, and it was a noble effort. Time has been brief, but you have been a friend. We just have one chance left now, from what I understand. Sunset tonight. And so, we can have no more mishaps.”

Mark let out a long breath. He grimaced to Melody and stepped around her. He offered Jake his hand. “Sorry. You're not really puny. I'll bet you made one hell of a soldier.”