The Messenger: Mortal Beloved Time Travel Romance, #1 (12 page)

S
amuel spoke quietly
. “I barely knew you before the Endicott attack, when you were just Abigail. You always acted superior, aloof. After the attack, you were confused, but you were funny and smart. You had a different frown.”

Samuel noticed my frown.
(Note to self: sign up for charm school upon returning to the future.)

“Your smile was different. A little crooked. Your entire being glowed…how can I say this…brighter? The more time I spent with you, the more my feelings changed. I knew something had changed. I was beyond curious. I needed to know more.”

Just get on with it,
I thought. Tell me the next thing I have to practice, or say, or do, or attempt to become a Messenger. Don’t flirt.
Please don’t mess with my heart.

“Then, you told me your name was Madeline, that you lived in a place called Chicago many years in the future. And your life sounded bright, shiny, fast moving, and magical. To my dismay, I realized I had nothing to offer you.”

“But that’s not—” I began.

He put one finger to my lips. “Hear me.”

I nodded, my heart pounding wildly.

“I spoke to Angeni about my feelings for you, and how exciting your real world must be, compared to here. I talked to a friend. I asked both for advice.” He stood up and paced in front of me. “They told me I should just be myself with you. Show you whoever I was: good, bad, light and dark, strong, weak. That you would see me or not. And, then we could decide. If we were meant to be together, it would come from honesty and maybe a bit of magic. Just like the Sa-Ta-Na-Ma chant. Infinity chasing life, death, and rebirth.”

His face was beautiful, his lips were full, his eyes intense. How could I get involved with a guy from the year 1675? But it was Samuel. How could I not? “Oh,” I said.

“We are here, outside the garrison’s safety because I wanted…no, I
needed
to show you part of who I am, and where I come from. Look.” He pointed in front of us.

A slice of soft pink crept up on the horizon ahead. Funny, ’cause it had been so dark, I didn’t even realize we were facing the horizon. The softness expanded into a deep rose; a sliver of dawn’s sunrise rose from the night’s blackness, and poked through the low, spotty, gray clouds. The rose blossomed into shades of fuchsia, accented with lemon yellows, oranges, and topped with blood reds.

Samuel had brought me here, and positioned us on the bluffs directly overlooking the Atlantic Ocean. There was no pollution, no planes or their trails in the sky. I was watching the most amazing, brilliant, pure sunrise I’d ever seen. It was stunning. Like how God/Goddess created the world before we all screwed it up with our crazy technologies.

“My people, the Wampanoag tribe are called The Children of the Morning Light,” Samuel said. “We were here for thousands of years, and witnessed this sunrise every day, before anyone else came to these shores. This is I, Madeline. This is my truth.”

I didn’t know what to say to him. Had no idea what to do. This had never happened to me before. I felt like I was falling. But, for once, falling was a good thing.

“You come from a world where things glitter, shine, and move faster than I can imagine,” Samuel said. “I want you to have something special—from this time. Something just for you, no matter how long you stay here.” He held out his hand to me.

I touched his hand. His was steady. Mine shook. Perhaps from anxiety or the tension of holding so tight to him on our ride. The blood beat through our hands, and synchronized into one big pulse, like they were puzzle pieces meant to fit together. It felt mesmerizing.
It felt like I was coming home.

“I made this for you. I hope you like it,” he said. “And, if we are both lucky, maybe if, or when, you leave and go back to your world, you will find a way to take a piece of it with you.”

What if I didn’t want to go back to my world? What if I wanted to stay with Samuel, no matter what, or where, or when? But, if I never returned, it would kill Dad. Just like losing Mama almost killed him. And that would break my heart, as well.

I looked up at Samuel, and I swore the sunrise made his hazel eyes glint, and his black-brown hair gleam. Be still my flippin’ heart. I peeled back the fingers on his fist. And saw the most beautiful gift cradled in his palm.

It was a necklace made from small, colorful feathers, long, coarse, black horsehairs and tiny purple and white seashells. It was exquisite. No one had ever made me a piece of jewelry before.

I picked it up from Samuel’s hand, and dangled it over my head. The dawn’s light reflecting off the ocean’s waters shone through it. Each shell shimmered a different color. Together they turned into the most, glorious rainbow.

“Oh,” I said, and ran my fingers over it. I felt my cheeks flush. “Oh. It’s the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.”

“Please?” He held his hand out.

I nodded.

He took the necklace, and slipped it over my head. It draped around my neck and down onto my chest. It felt like a piece of magic rested on top of my heart that beat so quickly. “Thank you.” I gazed up at him.

He smiled, leaned his head down, and cradled my face in his rough palms. He pulled me to him and said, “Madeline. I do not care where you are from—the future, the past, a star in the sky. I will love you here now. I do not care what people think. I will love you in the past. I will love you in the future. I will love you, forever, Madeline.”

And he kissed me.

I’d never felt a kiss like this. It was pure. It was sexy. It was honest. It was fierce. It was consuming. And I knew; this was it. There would never be another guy for me. I had traveled 300 plus years back in time and fallen completely in love with one soul. Samuel.

He finally stopped kissing me. “What are you doing?” I asked, almost breathless.

He smiled, and held out his hand to me. “We have to get back. Before they discover that we are missing.”

“Are you sure?”
A kiss like that certainly needed to continue for a couple of hours, at the least.

“We are destiny’s lovers. If there is not time for us,” he said as he took my hand, “then there will never be time for anyone.”

S
everal days passed
. I did not see Samuel again. Nothing had changed, but
everything
had changed.

For the first time in my life, I was in love. Not a crush, not unreciprocated affections—like Brett. I was completely in love. But my brain could not process both bliss as well as confusion.

The elephant in the room was the fact I came from the future. He lived in 1675. I was training to be a Messenger. He was meant to be a Healer. And then there was the time travel dilemma. Was there a way for us to be together?

I decided to ignore all the messy stuff, and just stick with bliss. It had been a long time since I felt bliss.

I hummed my favorite Pink song as I helped Elizabeth with the household chores and felt Samuel’s necklace pressed under my dress. I swept the floors. The necklace lay against the skin of my neck and throat. The sensation was crazy. It was silky, but coarse. Smooth, but rough. It was intoxicating.

I brought in wood and stacked the logs into the pile next to the fireplace. The feathers tickled a little. I folded laundry and replayed in my head what Samuel’s face looked like as the sun rose over the Atlantic. When he gave me the necklace. When he kissed me.

Elizabeth watched me from her chair close to the fireplace. “Something put a glow on your face,” she said.

Oh yes. I smiled back at her.

The school kids sat close to her on small, wooden benches and clutched their odd hornbooks, practicing their letters on them.

When a loud, jolting knock slammed our front door, the kids jumped. Elizabeth’s hand flew to her stomach and her face froze into a mask of terror.

“What?” I whispered.

“This is how they tell families their loved ones have been killed in the war,” she whispered, sunk into her chair, and closed her eyes.

“Whoever it is I’ll handle this,” I said.

The kids were jumpy. Unspoken questions practically tripping off their tongues. “You have all been so smart today, children, that you get to take recess for a half hour.”

They didn’t budge, just stared at me, confused. I realized the word “recess” hadn’t been coined yet. “Leave your books here.” I pointed to their benches. “Go outside and run around. It’s good for the blood.”

“Yay!” A couple of kids popped off the benches, while the slower ones followed on their heels. Another harsh knock practically shook the house. The kids stopped in their tracks, and a few cowered.

Elizabeth started rocking. “No, Jebediah. Walk this earth with me. Be alive, I pray.” She hunched forward, and clutched her huge belly.

I waved my hands in the air in front of the kids and whispered, “Hey!” I stuck out my tongue, crossed my eyes, and pulled on my ears. “Now who’s scarier? Me or the person knocking?”

Two of them bent over, giggling.

“I’m going to open this door, and you run right past the person who’s standing at the front door. But don’t stray from Mistress Elizabeth’s yard. Got it?”

“Got it,” Mary Smythe said.

“I’m appointing you General, Mary. It’s your job to make sure everyone who leaves this school house, comes back in.” I saluted her.

Her eyes grew huge and she saluted me back.

A boy next to her pouted, “Since when do girls get to be Generals?”

“Since right now, smarty-pants.” I opened the door and saw Reverend Wilkins leaning in for another knock. “Run, kids!” They ducked around him, and tore outside. The Reverend frowned and looked about as thrilled as someone who just got pelted with worms. “Good day Reverend Wilkins,” I said. “Won’t you come in?”

He pushed past me into the room. The cold, damp air from the gloomy fall day poured past him into our small home. He didn’t even look at me, just stomped toward Elizabeth hunched over in the chair next to the fire. “Mistress Elizabeth Ballard.”

She nodded and wiped a few tears away, but couldn’t meet his eyes. I checked the kids playing in the dirt and yellow grass in front of the house. They seemed fine. I shut the door, walked to Elizabeth, and placed my hand on her shoulder. “Yes, Reverend?” I asked.

Again, he ignored me. “Mistress Elizabeth Ballard, wife of General Jebediah Ballard. We have a terrible situation.”

Could this guy get more awful? Elizabeth reached her hand up to mine; it was trembling and cold. I leaned toward her, and whispered, “Be strong, Lizzie.”

She nodded and looked up at him. “What is the situation, Reverend?” she asked. “Can it be resolved?”

“The situation rests squarely with your cousin, Abigail.” He glared at me. “I am not sure we can solve it.”

Elizabeth inhaled. “Jebediah is alive?”

“I believe so.”

Thank God, I thought. And then I felt furious. How dare he frighten Elizabeth? He knew she’d be scared out of her mind that Jebediah had been killed.

He paced around me like I was some wild animal he was trying to capture; definitely not a puzzle piece he tried to figure out.

Elizabeth sat up straight. “Abigail heals from her wounds and helps me with the household chores. She keeps the children obedient.” She pushed herself to standing. “What could possibly be wrong with her?”

The Reverend leaned his skinny face with his greasy hair into mine. He smelled rancid, like something left too long in the fridge, and I tried not to recoil. He latched onto the neckline of my dress, bunched it in his grimy fist, and ripped it. I cried out.

“Just as I was told,” he said breathing heavily. He grabbed my necklace, yanked it from my neck, and squeezed it in his hand.

Elizabeth practically fainted. “What are you doing, Reverend?”

“That’s mine!” I yelled. “You give it back!”

“Who are you really, Abigail?” He leaned into my face, his yellow teeth bared. “Because no God-fearing, colonial girl wears dirty, heathen jewelry.”

I glared at him, which was like looking into the eyes of a rat up close. “A friend gave me this necklace,” I said. “You have no right to take it. I ask you kindly to return my gift now.”

“Ever since the attack you have turned into a tormented devil girl. Tell me truthfully. Are you one of Philip’s spies?”

“Oh, please,” I said. “Give my necklace back, or I’ll take it back.”

“Abigail!” Elizabeth exclaimed.

The Reverend dangled the most, beautiful piece of jewelry high in the air in front of me. I reached for it, but he ripped it apart. I watched, shocked, as crushed shells, pieces of Nathan’s mane and broken feathers fell to the floor. My heart cracked into a million pieces as he destroyed the gift that Samuel had made, just for me.

“Oh no.” Elizabeth crouched awkwardly, and gathered pieces of my necklace that lay scattered on the ground. “Apologize to the Reverend, Abigail.”

“What!”

He smiled. “I counsel you to get control of your cousin. If something of this nature happens again, I will make sure she is punished as well.” He sneered at me and strode toward the door.

I lunged at him, and grabbed his sleeve. “You pretend to be smart and God-fearing. But I know who you really are. At the end of the day, you’re simply a bully.”

Reverend Wilkins smiled at me with his tiny, yellow teeth. I pulled back, and really looked at him. Same teeth, same eyes, same bullying tactics, just three hundred plus years in time. But it was definitely he:
Stanley Preston.

“Stocks and whipping would not be pleasant. But, you will soon discover that for yourself.” He pushed past me and left.

“What did he mean?” I asked.

Elizabeth cradled her stomach and would not meet my eye. “As long as Jebediah is gone and we are at war, the Reverend Wilkins has the authority—”

I grabbed my coat from the rack, and flung open the front door. The kids ran back inside, their faces flushed from the cold.

“Be careful and prudent,” Elizabeth hollered after me. “The Reverend has a reasonable point. I am sorry.”

“I can’t believe you’d take his side,” I said. “I hate it here! You people are awful. I hope I never see you, ever again!”

“You do not mean that!” Elizabeth said.

I slammed the door behind me.