The Loved and the Lost (45 page)

“Grazzi, Excellency. You are most kind.”

“When I can, Father. When I can,” and he left.

The older Hansum returned to the bedroom. Happy sounds abounded from all the teens. The midwife was busy at a fireplace, heating up a cauldron of water. The older Shamira and Lincoln, in their disguises, were standing a few steps from the bed, watching their younger selves play. Medeea was over at the bed, looking at the youngsters.

“You guys were cute,”
she said.

“Lincoln, have you tried again?”
the older Hansum thought. They had tried taking Guilietta out of phase in the carriage, but it didn't work then.

“I'll try now.”
He reached out and took Guilietta's wrist, like he was checking her pulse. The teens quieted and watched.

“What ya doin', old man?” young Lincoln asked. The older Lincoln didn't answer, put down Guilietta's hand and walked away.

“No. She wouldn't go out of phase,”
he thought.

“Okay, time to explain things to them.”
The older Hansum stepped toward the bed. There was his younger self, doing something the old Hansum never got to do. The teenage husband was lying on a luxurious featherbed with his bride, lying against an overstuffed pillow with Guilietta nestled in his arm.

“Back at Bella Flora,” the younger Hansum was saying, “I dreamed of being in a bed like this with you, and here we are.” Guilietta cooed and snuggled closer.

“Hey,” the younger Lincoln joked. “You weren't always alone.” Guilietta looked at him. “Yeah. I slept in the bed with him sometimes,” and they all laughed.

“Nut,” the younger Shamira chided.

“One could get used to a wonderful bed like this,” Guilietta commented.

“Oh, wait till you see our new home, Guilietta,” the young Hansum told her. “It's a huge estate with hundreds of workers and servants. And you will be mistress of it all.”

“No, it can't be so,” she said.

“Oh, you have no idea,” Lincoln said. “You guys are rich.”

“And having a bed like this is only the beginning,” Shamira said.

“Yes, you'll have a whole house full of servants to boss around,” Hansum added.

“But I will be busy with the baby, and Carmella and I must do housework,” Guilietta answered.

“No more housework for me or you, Guil,” Shamira said.

The older Hansum as Father Benjamin stepped forward.

“We must talk,” he said, which got everyone's attention. It was like they all just remembered that he was from the future. “Let's go in the hallway.”

“No,” Guilietta protested. “I don't want my husband to leave.”

“For a few moments, darling. I'll be back soon. We must talk with Father Benjamin about several things, including travel.”

“Why can't you talk here?”

“It's best they leave, Signora,” the midwife spoke up. “You must be bathed. Cleanliness is next to Cristo. All the men out.”

“But I want to know about the travel,” Guilietta protested.

“There will be no travel or bossing servants about till your spotting stops, Signora,” the midwife bullied tenderly.

“Spotting? What's spotting?” young Hansum asked.

“Girl talk,” the young Shamira said. “None of your business. Now get out of here.”

“I would like you to come too . . . Shamira,” the Father Benjamin figure added. Shamira blinked, surprised at being called that out loud.

“Why did he call you that?” Guilietta asked.

“It's a name from back home, Guil,” young Shamira said, turning toward the door. As she passed the veiled nun, two sets of green eyes met for the first time. The nun looked away and stepped toward Guilietta.

“I'll explain in the hall,” Father Benjamin whispered, seeing Shamira's surprise. They all left the room, leaving the nun and midwife with Guilietta. The young Hansum took a last look back at his wife and, just as the door was closing, saw the midwife removing the blankets.

“No good,” the midwife said, and the door closed with a click.

Elders Hansum and Lincoln looked at the three teens facing them.

“So, you finally got here,” young Lincoln said. “Did you have to wait till I looked like this?” and he bared his teeth, showing the missing spot in front and pointing to his broken arm.

“My apologies,” the older Hansum said. “There have been problems in getting you home. Time travel is more complicated than you could know.”

“More complicated than we could know?” Lincoln continued complaining. “We didn't even know it existed.”

“People from the 31
^st
-century still have problems with time travel?” Shamira asked.

“Actually, we're from around your time. Time travel was announced to the public just after you three were brought here. People have been watching your adventures all over the planet. It's a new History Camp method to scare hard case teens into appreciating the easy time they live in.”

“But when Arimus was killed . . .” Shamira began.

“The truth is . . . Arimus didn't die. It was all a ruse to make you three take things seriously. And if our changing the timeline hasn't altered things too much, he should show up to retrieve you soon.”

The teens all looked at each other, confused. Lincoln especially wasn't seeing the bright side of things.

“You put me through all of this crap, just so I would appreciate . . .” The older Lincoln as monk reached out and took hold of his younger self's shoulder. The younger one batted him off. “Don't touch me, ferret face.”

“Asshole,” the older Lincoln retorted.

“Oh, finally this weird lookin' guy finds his tongue and all he can say is . . .”

“Cool it, Lincoln,” the younger Hansum said, giving the kind of look a noble gives a servant. Lincoln quieted immediately. The young Hansum looked back to the man dressed as a priest.

“So, Arimus isn't dead, you've been trying to save us and Arimus should show up anytime now,” Hansum summed up. “You'll excuse me for asking, but why don't you just take us back, and if you can't, how are you here? It doesn't make sense.”

“Very little about time travel does, my boy,” the elder Hansum agreed. “Listen, all of you. We've changed the timeline you and the Arimus you know lived before. But we're still hopeful he should show up to take you back, with one big difference. Before you went back by yourselves. This time, we hope Guilietta and her family can go with you. We've tried before, several times, but for some reason, we can't.”

Silence.

“You're right,” Lincoln lisped. “Time travel doesn't make sense? It's nuts!”

Young Hansum put up his hand again for silence. “What's this about Guilietta? You tried to do what before? Take her to the future?”

The old Hansum hesitated, looking at the older Lincoln, who nodded.

“Right now Guilietta is getting better, thank Gia, but in the last timeline . . . she didn't. We tried saving both you and her before, but failed. We're afraid she might be a person who can't move through time, except at certain points.”

“We don't remember you trying before,” the young Hansum countered.

The old Hansum became somewhat frustrated. “Of course you don't. We changed it all back. Hansum, we don't have time for me to get into the details. You've got to trust us.”

“Just tell me what you mean, she didn't make it?”

“She and the baby. They died back at her parents' house.” Silence. “But this time we manipulated the situation for the Podesta to go get her, and for you to have the antibiotic. Now she's here and alive.” The old Hansum smiled. “Listen, please, we've never gotten this far and I think it can work this time. Be happy.”

“Okay. Okay,” the younger Hansum said, trying to take it all in. “What can we do to help?”

“Good. That's what I hoped you would say. There's not much to do right now,” the older Hansum said. “Everything's been set up, the antibiotic is eliminating Guilietta's infection and the rest should play out by tomorrow.”

“And what happens if Arimus doesn't show and you can't find a way to take us forward?” the young Hansum asked, “Or if we can go and Guilietta can't?”

“You choose then, my boy. You can stay here with her or go forward, whatever you like. This whole operation was to make you and her happy.”

Young Hansum stood quietly, not saying what his face showed. Lincoln said it though.

“I can't believe Guilietta . . . died.”

“None of you think about that,” the older Hansum ordered, pointing at each teen. “Just be happy that things are going to work out now. Especially you, Hansum. You're going to be a father.”

Hansum smiled at that. So did Shamira and Lincoln.

“Hey man, I'm sorry I was snarky at you,” Lincoln said to his older self. “You look like an okay guy, for a ferret face.”

There was a scream from the bedroom. “HUSBAND!”

“Guilietta,” Hansum said, turning.

“No, Signora,” the voice of the midwife cried. “No, you mustn't.”

“I WANT MY HUSBAND!”

“She's being attacked!” Hansum said, banging open the door with his shoulder.

“No, Signor,” the midwife cried. “Stay away,” but it was too late.

There, standing by the bed, was Guilietta, her long nightdress soaked with blood from the waist down, a puddle dripping onto the marble floor.

“She's hemorrhaging,” Zat said, his face appearing on Lincoln's chest.

“What's going . . .” young Hansum started.

“Lie her back down,” Sideways called, his face appearing too.

“She will not listen,” the midwife retorted. She saw the A.I. faces and fell to her knees, crossing herself. Gullietta slipped in the blood and crashed to the marble floor.

Both Hansums rushed to her side. “Husband,” Guilietta moaned.

“Lincoln, put my sleeve on her belly,” Zat ordered. “I'm a medical A.I. I'll scan her.” The older Lincoln put his voluminous sleeve on Guilietta's blood-stained torso. “There's a hematoma in the uterus. It's caused an
abruptio placenta
. The placenta has separated from the wall of the womb.”

“But the antibiotic?” the younger Hansum cried as he cradled Guilietta's head.

“That's taking care of the infection, but nothing we've got can stop this,” said Zat.

“Romero,” Guilietta's voice was now much weaker. “What is happening? Our baby? Romero? I'm afraid for our . . .” her voice trailed off.

“Hang on, Guilietta,” Hansum pleaded. “Hang . . .” Her eyes unfocused. “CAN'T YOU DO SOMETHING?”

“Medicine brought from our time won't work here,” the older Lincoln said, grimacing.

“Stay with us, Guil,” the younger Shamira urged. “Stay with us,” but Guilietta's eyes closed completely and her body started shaking in shock.

“Guilietta,” both Hansums said at once, and then she convulsed, her whole torso seeming to ripple. A gush of new blood washed through her gown and poured across the marble.

“She's aborting,” Zat called.

“The baby she comes. No good, no good,” the midwife said getting up from her knees. She grabbed one of Guilietta's legs. “Sister,” she said to the older Shamira. “Bend the other leg to free the way.” As they did so, the sodden night gown hung like wet red drapes between Guilietta's knees. The midwife grabbed a knife and slit the cloth. “No good, no good.”

“Guilietta . . .” Hansum pleaded in her ear, but she couldn't hear.

“
Madonna mia
, bless this mother and child,” the midwife prayed as she worked.

“No, no, Cristo no!” the older Hansum said, almost praying.

“Oh man!” the younger Lincoln groaned, staring at the widening pool of red on the floor.

“What can I do?” the young Shamira begged. “What can I do?” She looked and found a hand holding her wrist. It was the silent sister with green eyes.

“Guilietta. Guilietta, don't leave me,” the young Hansum pleaded to his wife's now pale face, her eyes two thin slits.

“Guilietta, I failed,” the old Hansum wept. “Again I . . .”

The roar of the vortex echoed in the hollow silence of the time travelers' souls. In all the other instances where death was imminent, the battle with the cannon and knights, the sword fights with Feltrino, the incident in the river, there was a chance of survival if you struggled hard and were lucky. But this, seeing the young woman they loved being drained of life, it ripped out their guts.

Now the only thing to do, once again, was to go back and stop the older Hansum from stepping out from behind the wagon and contacting Mastino della Scalla when he re-entered Verona. But for the first time in his career, Hansum couldn't do what was needed of him. Sideways went alone.

As Sideways rejoined the others in the vortex, he could tell that his Hansum was out of emotional fuel. Staring out into nowhere, the old time traveler didn't even acknowledge the A.I.'s reappearance. Looking at the others, Sideways saw they were all in a similar state, hanging listlessly in the vortex.

“Where to now, Elder Hansum?”
Sideways asked telepathically.
“Back to the wall to regroup?”

“Why?”
Hansum responded.
“That was the last piece of our plan to find a nexus point.”

“We can't hang here forever, Master.”

“Maybe it was never meant to be,”
Hansum thought back.

Nobody said anything for a long time. They just hung there, suspended in time.

“If that really was our last chance, can I ask a favor?”
Shamira thought. The others looked over.
“Can we at least go back to when Guil passed away at home? We weren't there for her or her parents then, and I've always regretted it. I'd really like to be with her and the family one last time. To say goodbye.”