The Messenger: Mortal Beloved Time Travel Romance, #1 (8 page)

T
he days rolled by
. I helped Elizabeth with the chores and reined in the school kids. Every other day I’d find an excuse to go find some quiet time at the barn. Where I’d secretively meet Samuel.

We talked about how Nathan was getting better, what my life was like with Elizabeth. He told me he lived with Angeni—that she was like a mother to him. I asked him what happened to his parents, but he just shrugged and shut up. Didn’t seem like he wanted to talk about it.

One day he asked me to teach him the yoga warriors. So I did.

“Watch me,” I said and took a Warrior One pose. And yes, I was fully dressed this time.

“I am watching.” He massaged Nathan the horse’s neck, shoulder, and leg. “Have you seen a stronger warrior, Nathan?”

I willed myself not to blush. “Do you really want to learn this?” I asked.

“Yes.”

“Then come over here and do what I’m doing.”

He did, but his alignment was awful. His knees weren’t lined up, and his hips were definitely off.

“No.” I tapped Samuel’s knee with my finger. “Bend your front knee so it lines up directly over your ankle,” I said. “Otherwise, if you practice poor form for any length of time, you will totally screw up your knee. Then you might need arthroscopic surgery or something.”

“No surgery.” He shook his head. “I heard that is torture.”

“Arthroscopic surgery’s not that bad.”

“The father of my friend was shot during a battle. The doctor performed surgery. Cut off his leg to save him,” he said.

I winced. “That’s awful. How long was he in the hospital?”

“The doctor took his leg on the battlefield. He still screams at night when he hears the sawing sounds in his head.”

I think my blood pressure plummeted, and I probably turned deadly white, as Samuel grabbed my hand and squeezed it. “Show me more Warriors.”

“I don’t know.” I felt a little queasy. “Maybe I should go.” Go back to the clattering of el trains, TV, movies, the Internet, my school, friends, and family. Back to modern times where they did surgeries in hospitals.

He placed my hand on top of his knee. “Stay. Show me.”

I felt the muscles in his leg. He was so strong. He placed a finger under my chin and tilted it up, so I looked into his eyes. He was beautiful. His cheekbones were high, his eyelashes jet black and long, his nose regal, and his lips full.
I was doomed.

Back at home, a guy as hot as Samuel would
never
be interested in me. He might say, “Hey,” to me at a club if he knew I was a friend to Chaka, whose parents were music mogul gods. But he’d quickly move on and start checking out the models that were at all these events for schmoozing reasons. Then I’d never see or talk to that guy again.

Samuel put his hand on my cheek. “Where are you?” he asked.

“I was just thinking about my home,” I said.

“What about your home?”

“I really miss it. Is that crazy?” I asked.

“No. The Endicotts were good people,” he replied.

“Not the Endicotts.” I flashed to those first moments I woke up on that blood-soaked ground surrounded by all the colonists who had been slaughtered. Which was also the first moment I laid eyes on Samuel, as he surveyed the scene, me, and then disappeared into the woods with Tobias.

“You are not Abigail, are you?” Samuel asked.

Dang. There was no way I’d be answering his question.

“Warrior Two.” I pulled away from him. “Stretch your back leg behind you, and turn your heel slightly in.”

He did.

I reached down and adjusted his heel. “Now extend this arm.” I tapped his left arm. Amazing sensations flooded my body. I felt like I’d downed a shot of honesty mixed with a chaser of courage.

It was coming through Samuel to me. Why wasn’t I meeting his magical soul back in Chicago? I was increasingly overwhelmed by desires to be with him for real.
(Note to self: not the best idea to fall for a guy who lives three hundred plus years before you were born.)

“What do you want me to do now?” he asked.

I was still holding onto his arm. Oops. My hand flew off him. “Sorry!” What did I want him to do?
Be real for me,
I thought
. Do not vanish; don’t disappear.

“Abigail was never nice to me. She kept to herself, had secrets she did not share,” Samuel said.

I covered a cough. “Maybe she changed. I mean I changed. Stretch your arm toward, um, the door and your other arm in the opposite direction,” I said. “Toward me.”

He did. “Do us both a favor. Tell me your real name?” He asked while he mastered a perfect Warrior Two pose. Strong, fierce, sexy. The only thing left for him to perfect the pose was—

“Right,” I said. “Turn your head, and face out over your front arm.”

“Show me.” He closed his eyes and waited.

Samuel was in an almost perfect lunge. How was it possible that this mysterious guy and I could have this chemistry, this connection? Perhaps I was the only one feeling it. Maybe he was just meant to be a friend or a mentor, or worst-case scenario, temporary, like Brett.

“Breathe, Samuel.” I placed my hands on each side of his beautiful face, and turned it toward me. Nathan whinnied and stomped his foot. “Open your eyes. You’re new to yoga. You don’t want to fall.”

His blinked his eyes open. Our faces were inches apart. “Sometimes falling can be a good thing.”

“Oh.”

“I promise you.” He took my hands in his, and placed them on his chest on top of his heart. “I promise you, I will tell no one. I will keep your secret. Tell me your real name and where you are from.”

A few seconds passed but they might as well have been hours as my heartbeat drummed in my ears. “My name is Madeline Blackford,” I said. “Madeline Abigail Blackford from Chicago. Illinois. Over three hundred years in the future.” I ripped my hands from his, and ran out the door.

E
ven though all
I could think about was Samuel, I didn’t go back to the barn for a couple of days. My feelings bounced all over the map. I was petrified of making a jerk out of myself.

It’s not like Samuel could google me. But what if he changed his mind and thought I was crazy? I didn’t think I could take that right now.

So I buried myself in household chores and helped Elizabeth. Lucky for me that her school had several new students.

Elizabeth was smart, clever, and educated. She was a gifted and compassionate teacher to twelve colonial children. They sat on small, rustic, wooden benches gathered around the fireplace and clutched their little, handmade books. I learned they were called hornbooks—a wooden paddle with some papers stuck on top.

I was supposed to keep an eye on the kids as I cleaned up the fireplace, swept the floors, gathered and stacked wood, helped stir pots, and flipped meat on the grill.

“What country did we come from?” Elizabeth asked the kids.

A couple of hands went up. “England!” a new little schoolgirl blurted.

“Very good. Thank you, Miss Smythe,” Elizabeth said.

My head whipped around so fast I thought it might spin off my shoulders. I stared at this brown-haired girl with a large nose. She looked awfully familiar.

“Who is our King?” Elizabeth asked.

“King Charles II!” the brunette munchkin said. My mouth dropped open as I recognized the kid was a younger, innocent version of Taylor Smythe. But without the nose job. How bizarre.

“You are the best teacher ever, Mistress Elizabeth!”

Elizabeth smiled. “Thank you, Miss Smythe.”

The Smythe doppelganger raised her hand and waved it furiously. “Mistress Elizabeth! Mistress Elizabeth!”

“Yes, Mary.”

“I do not believe Miss Abigail is stacking those logs next to the fireplace properly. They could fall over and start a fire,” Mary Smythe said.

I stared at the Smythe munchkin. And remembered what a pain she was. Definitely some past life karma playing out. I caught a questioning glance from Elizabeth.

“I’ll happily re-stack the logs should you want.”

Elizabeth nodded.

I looked at the logs, sighed, and took them down off the pile—one by one. Just when I thought things couldn’t get more absurd or complicated—they did.

“Work on your letters, children. And we will see you next week,” Elizabeth said.

Another week had passed without my dad, or Sophie, or even Jane. Did they miss me? Were they looking for me? Would Dad give up on me eventually, like he finally gave up on Mama? Oh God, I hoped not.

I
suffered
through another grueling Reverend Wilkins’ sermon. It amazed me that these same colonial people who traveled across an ocean to do back-breaking work, expose themselves to weird diseases, hideous weather, and fight brutal wars, could still find the patience to listen to some pompous guy drivel on for hours. Don’t get me wrong—I pray to God all the time. But my God teaches love and forgiveness.

Elizabeth and I left the church. “Reverend Wilkins is such an—”

“No. No. Do not say it.” Elizabeth patted her stomach, which seemed to be growing about an inch each couple of days. “Look at the stocks,” she whispered.

I did. There was a guy shackled to its bottom with a large iron clamp around his leg attached to a chain. He looked miserable. “I have been here a day,” he said. “Will not someone feed me?” Most of the churchgoers walked past him, and said nothing. A few laughed. I carried an old corn cake I had planned to give to Nathan. I handed it to this guy instead.

“Thank you, Miss,” he ripped into it.

“What did he do?” I whispered to Elizabeth.

“He did not attend church services for two whole weeks in a row.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Elizabeth shook her head.

Mistress Powter walked past and smiled at me. I nodded back and ground my teeth in a forced smile. “I’m going to explode,” I whispered.

“Go to the barn for a bit,” Elizabeth said. “You are always calmer and happier when you come home from the barn.”

S
he was right
. I grabbed some oats, opened the gate to Nathan’s stall, and squeezed inside. This was the closest I’d ever been to a horse since before my accident. He looked tall. Frankly, he looked massive. He nudged my hand with his nose. “Yeah, got it. Someone’s hungry.”

I fed Nathan the oats, and then massaged his neck tentatively. “You’re so normal,” I said. He pushed his head into my hand again, his eyes at half-mast. He was darling. “How come everyone here isn’t more like you?”

I laid my head on his shoulder, wrapped my arms around his neck and hugged him. Funny, the horsey smell didn’t bother me anymore.

“I do not see you for a bit, Madeline, and you have already fallen for a far nobler soul than I,” Samuel said as he entered silently through the door.

My breath caught in my throat. Nathan regarded Samuel and nodded his head. It was an awfully big head. He whinnied and stomped his front foot on the ground. I felt a little jittery and backed away until I was pressed flat against the side of the stall.

“He likes you.” Samuel climbed the gate and dropped into the stall. “You do not need to be scared of him.” He murmured something to Nathan and examined his shoulder. “And you, my friend, do not need to be scared of her.”

“I’m not scared.” I squeezed out of the stall door.

“I would be if I were you.” He lifted Nathan’s front hoof on the injured side and took it through range-of-motion exercises. “Strange place, different time. I think you are doing very well for someone who has traveled so far: over three hundred years and many miles.”

“What do you know about time traveling?” I asked. “You know about traveling and you’ve been holding out on me?”

He sighed. “I suspected. But I did not know for sure until you confided in me, Miss Madeline Blackford from the future.” Samuel smiled the most gorgeous smile I’d ever seen on a guy.

“Well then, you must share. Immediately,” I said. “This traveling thing is completely new to me. I don’t know what I’m supposed to feel or do. How to act, what to say.” And it hit me. “Oh, my God. Are you a traveler, too?”

“I am not a traveler. Angeni is convinced my future lies elsewhere. I know people who travel, but cannot tell you who they are without betraying promises and secrets,” he said. “So I think we should leave this stinky barn, and you can tell me about your life in the future.”

“But won’t the garrison’s people freak if they see us together?” I asked, and immediately felt like an idiot for pointing out the obvious. “I’m sorry. But they seem uptight about, well, everything.”

“Mmm. Good point.” Samuel climbed up to the top of the stall’s gate, reached his hand overhead, and pushed a board in the barn’s ceiling. “So we create a distraction of sorts.” He banged on the board. It dislodged after the third hit. A cloud of dust, as well as some remnants of bird nests rained down upon us.

I ducked, and covered my head with my hands. “Is this your distraction?”

Samuel caught the worst of the debris and coughed. “More like my plan of attack. Now that I know the warriors.”

Feathers and twigs stuck to his hair and shirt. I couldn’t help myself and I giggled. “Nice look. Are you okay?”

“I don’t know what the word, ‘Okay’ means. But I will say yes. I am healthy, but feel a little feathery.” He handed me a skinny, old-fashioned book.

I sucked in my breath. “Abigail’s book?”

“Yes,” he said as he pulled debris from his hair and brushed it off his clothes. “To answer your question, you,
‘Abigail’
, will work on your book, while I exercise Nathan in the pasture outside the barn.”

“Come here,” I said.

He raised an eyebrow but stepped toward me.

“You have a twig sticking out of your hair.” I pulled it out.

“If anyone believes it odd that we are keeping company, we have a very good excuse.”

“Which is?” I was not going to let go of that twig. I was keeping it.

“You are writing about how General Ballard’s courageous horse, Nathan, was injured during King Philip’s war, and now heals.”

“You rock!” I raised my fist to bump his. But he looked at me, confused. “Just bump my hand, okay?”

He did. And smiled again.

I
sat
outside on a bale of hay next to a simple log fence that surrounded a small pasture. Abigail’s book was open on my lap.

At first Samuel let Nathan check out the pasture without a lead, all on his own. Nathan walked tentatively, sniffing the yellowing patches of grass that remained.

I was torn between watching them, and examining the book. What did she write? Were there clues in here?

After some time, Samuel approached the horse. “Come on, brave one. You need to move those legs.” He led Nathan back and forth across the pasture, examining his gait. Seeing where his muscles seemed to catch.

“In the future,” Samuel asked, “does everyone dress very fancy? Do the men and women wear wigs, like the English? Which I believe to be hideous.”

My mind shot to Chaka and Aaron, and the makeover they gave me, where they turned me into an overly made-up, trollop wannabe. “Actually people dress pretty strange in the future. Fashion changes every season, and most people can’t keep up with it.”

“How are my pants and shirt?” Samuel asked and plucked at them.

Smoking hot as long as it’s you who’s wearing them,
I thought. “Fine,” I said. “You look styling. You’d almost pass for a guy living in my time.”

“What about the town you live in? It is probably larger than the garrison, with bigger houses.” He smiled and let Nathan rest.

“Almost three million people live in Chicago. Many homes are smaller, like mine. But some people, like my friend Chaka, live in skyscrapers—buildings so tall they almost touch the sky. Like the John Hancock building—it’s one hundred stories.”

Samuel shook his head. “How do they fashion wood strong enough to build that?”

“They don’t use wood. They build with metal, and glass, and other materials.”

He shook his head and patted Nathan on the shoulder. “What about transportation? I dream about the day that everyone, no matter their lot in life or their heritage, is able to ride in comfort.”

“Well, that’s a whole ’nother thing,” I said and paged through Abigail’s book. “Plane travel’s much more difficult since 9/11. TSA, long lines, and waits at the airports. But you can still fly thousands of miles in just a few hours. Amtrak trains still run. People in the cities generally use public transportation like buses, subways and L trains. Suburban commuters will carpool or hop on their local railways like Metra. Most peeps grab a cab or take public transportation if they’re in a city. Because gas prices are up, the big trend now is a car that is energy-efficient. Like a hybrid that gets great gas mileage.”

Samuel stopped in his tracks and regarded me completely confused. “I was thinking that everybody would be able to ride a horse in the future.”

Oh no. I’d gone off on a tangent. “Yes. Everyone can ride a horse in the future, Samuel. But that’s not our general way of transportation.”

“Do you think I’m simple-minded?”

“No,” I said. “I think you are kind. I think you are amazing.”
I think you are stealing my heart.

“Do you have family there?” He resumed leading Nathan around the field but seemed preoccupied.

“Yes. My dad, stepmom, and my little sister.”

“A stepmom?” he asked.

“After my mama had been gone a long time, my dad married another woman. Sophie’s like another mom to me. I adore her.”

“What kind of work does your father do?” he asked.

“He helps heal people.”

“Like Angeni.”

“A little different,” I said. “But he’s still really smart and talented.”

“What’s your sister like? Pretty like you?”

I tried not to blush. “Jane’s younger than me. Cute. She’s a pain, but I miss her.”

Samuel jogged next to Nathan who picked up his pace. “I bet you miss everyone. Do you miss the young man who courts you? The one you are promised to?” he asked. For once, he wouldn’t look me in my eyes.

“Not really,” I said. “There is no promise between us.” And Brett definitely no longer ‘courted’ me.

“Oh,” Samuel said.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Yes.”

“What were you and Tobias doing in the woods at the Endicott settlement?”

He turned and regarded me. “What do you think we were doing?”

“I don’t know.”

“Do you think we hurt those people?”

The first few times I saw him, I asked myself those same questions. But now? “No.”

“Elizabeth sent us ahead of her search party to be scouts, and to defend against any warriors who might have stayed behind.” And then he was quiet and worked silently with Nathan.

“Are you angry with me?” I asked.

“There is nothing to be angry about.”

“But you’re not talking to me now.”

“I have talked with you more than I have talked to anyone, besides Angeni.”

I scanned Abigail’s book looking for clues, and waited for him to pick up the conversation. It didn’t happen. Dusk came and went. It was past time for me to get back to Elizabeth. “Well, you let me know, when we can, you know, talk again,” I said.

He nodded his head abruptly and led Nathan to the barn.

“Thanks for the book.” I followed him.

“You best be going.”

I
trekked back
to Elizabeth’s house. The weather was getting cooler, and I pulled my cloak around my shoulders tightly.

Homecoming weekend had probably come and gone at Preston Academy. I wondered if Chaka was elected Homecoming Queen. Did Aaron miss me? We probably would have been each other’s dates this year, ’cause Brett was most likely going with Brianna, and I didn’t think Aaron had met anyone new.

But I’d been gone a while, and maybe he had. I hoped he met a sweet, cute guy who adored him. Life had changed, and moved on without me. And I realized—I didn’t care about Brett anymore. There was no sadness, no worry, or pit in my stomach. Brett could have gone to Homecoming, Prom, or even the moon with the beautiful red-haired girl, or an Irish potato for all I cared. I felt like a huge weight lifted off my shoulders.

I walked in the front door of Elizabeth’s house. “I’m here.” Shrugged off my cloak with more energy than I’d felt in weeks.

“I have been waiting for you,” she said.

I always got home before dark. One time I was late.

“Abigail?”

“Just a minute.” I tried to hang up my coat on the peg on the wall.

“I do not believe I have a minute,” she said. Elizabeth was collapsed on the floor next to the fireplace, clutching her stomach and grimacing. The school kids were gone, she was alone and her face was white as chalk.

I skidded onto the floor next to her. Her skirt was scrunched up toward her waist, and there was the smallest bit of blood on her hand. “Are you okay?” I asked.

She grimaced and contracted forward in pain. “A colonial girl should never be out at nighttime,” she said. “Go fetch Angeni. Now.”