Infinity's Daughter (5 page)

Just ten days after my birthday in 1906, there was a terrible earthquake that bellowed out from the caverns within the soil, and tore apart San Francisco. I saw pictures of it in the newspapers—the images of utter destruction were more than I could bear. It was still so different, seeing things at a slower pace, and only through photographs, rather than videos, television, and radio. But at this point, it had been so long. The fog was beginning to set in, clouding my memories of my past life. Looking at those photographs of the remnants of San Francisco, it felt like I was seeing it for the first time. Touching the corners of the newspaper, running my fingers across the black and white printed images, I felt like I could reach out and touch them, and feel their pain.

Thousands of people were either dead or injured; that’s what the newspapers said. I winced reading the stories of the displaced—hordes of people without homes, destroyed as the earth came up to claim them. I felt sick to my stomach thinking about the pain they must be enduring. After losing my entire family to something beyond anyone’s control, and without explanation, I could relate to them. Honestly, I thought briefly about traveling to San Francisco, and lending my help, though I wasn’t sure exactly what I could do. But just as quickly as my heart sank, and I wept for those who were lost, I quickly became swept up in my own affairs.

The guilt I had for selfishly isolating myself from the horror on the West Coast was soon replaced with my absolute joy and disbelief at the circumstance I had fallen into. On my birthday, Samuel took me for a trip into the city. In my own time, I had never been to New York City. It was absolutely fascinating to see the city before it became the massive metropolitan mecca that it is today. We drove his car to the Upper West Side, taking in the city sights. He took me to a fabulous, candlelit dinner, and afterwards we went for a stroll in Central Park. The park had recently received electric lights, and they sparkled wonderfully throughout the rolling urban jungle.

We came upon the Bethesda Fountain—a work I was told had been the first piece commissioned from a woman in a large metropolitan area. I looked up at the fountain—a beautiful angel bringing water to the city–and thought of her paving the way for all of the women in the future. It was here, under her gaze, that Samuel got down on one knee, his hat on his chest, and asked me to marry him. I wept, and the tears were ones of pure joy. Despite everything, I truly loved him, and I couldn’t imagine my life any other way, or in any other world. In that moment, there, under that fountain, it was perfect. He grabbed my hand, his other resting in the small of my back, embracing me in a kiss. Our silhouettes stood backlit against the lights of Central Park, casting two intertwined shadows across the pavement.

Adelle was absolutely overjoyed. When we returned home and told the Sullivans of the news, little tears crept into the corners of John’s eyes, and Adelle began weeping, holding me and repeating over and over how proud she was of me. Samuel held my shoulder, and consoled the couple that I now considered my parents, and his soon-to-be family. I was so awestruck by the entire course of events that I don’t remember speaking much. I simply remember capering around the house, a massive smile plastered across my face, wondering how I ever ended up there in the first place. My sincere happiness surprised me.

The next day, Adelle took me out for tea and cakes with the book club ladies. I still didn’t have any close young women friends my age. There were a number of nice young ladies, and they were all very sweet, consoling me and praising me. They commented at all the right times about the ring, and how handsome Samuel was—an up and coming detective, no less. But part of me felt an emptiness clinging to my heart, thinking back to my time in the dressing room with Becky, and wishing I had my best friend—and my mother—with me at such a time. I quickly lost my appetite, and began fooling with the tea, daydreaming about times past and present, and confusing everything in between.

But soon, when the time came to plan the wedding with Samuel and the Sullivans, all of my heartache faded to a bittersweet nostalgia. I was lost in bliss. Looking into Samuel’s eyes, I felt myself melting, knowing how much I was loved, and how lucky I was to be engaged to such a fantastic person, who loved me just as much as loved him. The Sullivans, without fail, were absolutely wonderful. Their joy and love for me was unending, and I could not have been more grateful.

A few weeks later, Adelle took me into town to go dress shopping. We hopped into their own Model T, acquired just a little short of a year after they began crawling their way into the eastern part of the nation. The little machine chugged up and down, rolling us across the little dirt roads, and into the cobblestone streets of our small city.

“Now, dear,” Adelle told me, “If you don’t find anything here, do not fret. Selecting your wedding gown is one of the most important things you will do as a young woman. And you want it to be perfect. We can always go into the city, if you would like. But I do know quite a few good dressmakers, too, who live near us.” She smiled, and squeezed my hand.

In that moment, as we walked into the first dress store, I couldn’t have been more glad to have her at my side. Her compassion and geniality was more than I could have asked for, and wanted, out of a guardian. And she was more than that too; she had become my best friend. Besides Samuel, of course.

The dressmaker I chose was an exquisite little man. He was older, but very sturdy in his age, and incredibly wise and unaffected. His eyes were wizened, and he had little crow’s feet skulking out of the corners of his eyes and tickling his cheekbones. We got along swimmingly. I still remember his name—Gregory. He took care to make the dress exactly as I desired, truly caring about the work he delivered.

“My dear,” Gregory croaked, he had a grumbly sort of voice, but in his sweet demeanor made it rather charming, “You’re going to look absolutely exquisite.” Gregory and Adelle sat with me over long days during the summer, for dress fittings. Gregory would hold his little pincushion, with needles sticking out of his mouth like something from a horror film. He would motion to Adelle, who would then take the cushion from him, and fasten a little needle in the fabric where he had requested.

Adelle smiled back at him, admiring the dress as it took shape around my form. It was a beautiful cream-colored lace, with admirable intricacy woven throughout. Gregory’s workplace was equipped with a little pedestal for me to stand on, while they stitched the dress around me. Three full-length mirrors let me watch myself all the while. I was amazed at how striking I looked. My figure was very slender, with subtle curves in all the right places. Watching that girl in the mirror was like watching a temptress. She was everything I wanted to be, everything I had hoped to become. Staring at myself for those long hours though, was like a mockery of reality. Looking in, towards myself, at a girl I didn’t really know, fallen naively into her own wonderland. During the entire ordeal, I kept waiting for her to grab my hand, and pull me back into my own time. And it was then I discovered I didn’t want to go back.

Samuel and I planned our wedding to be held in a large church in New York City, where we would be moving to after the wedding. He accepted a job with the New York Police Department. I couldn’t have been more proud.

Our wedding was held in September of that year. The day of my wedding, I was terrified and elated.

Adelle helped me get ready. I had just finished putting my hair up in little peal pins when I saw her face move in the mirror behind me.

“My darling,” she said. Her voice was soft and caring.

I turned my face up towards her. “Adelle,” I said, “I couldn’t have done this without you.”

“I know,” she said, “but my life would not have been the same, and I think, would have been truly unfulfilled, without you.”

I smiled and my heart welled up with emotion. As much as I missed and longed for my family who now lingered only in my memories, the Sullivans were really wonderful people, and I had come to love them. Faint teardrops crept up in the edges of my eyes, moistening my lashes. I reached up and hugged her tightly.

She sniffled herself, wiping away a quiet tear that had snuck out and rolled across her cheek. “Wear this,” she said. She turned me back towards the mirror and wrapped a brilliant silver and pearl necklace around my décolletage.

“
Adelle!
” I whispered; my breath stifled as I absorbed the beauty and her kindness.

“You’ve nothing to say, dear,” she whispered back, “this is a gift of love. And we couldn’t want anything more than all the happiness you have given us.” She leaned over and kissed my forehead, before standing up to receive my hands, and prepare for the ceremony to begin.

The wedding was enormous. But it was more really for Sam than for me. And that was fine. I had everyone that I needed. I had the Sullivans, smiling quaintly in the front pews of the church, and I had Sam, right in front of me. Two girls from the reading group were my bridesmaids. It was very sweet of them, and I suppose, after these years past, they really had become good friends of mine. All of the officers from the force where Sam and John served came in uniform, taking up most of the seats in elegant precision. Their wives clung to their arms like precious decorations on their starched, decorated liveries.

The honorable magistrate, Tom Banks, John’s good friend and colleague throughout his years in the force, presided over the ceremony. The priest stood by, blessing our marriage, and sharing the recitation of the vows. It was very novel, for an early twentieth century wedding.

Staring into Samuel’s eyes that day, in those moments, is something I can feel at the core of my being to this day. His love for me was something that I could never replicate, not with anyone. When he held my hands, I could feel their warmth, and his love radiating into mine. All of my phantoms and woes from the past faded against his affection. The only thing I could have wanted was for my family to witness it. To be there and know that I was okay. To see my father again, and forgive him. I wanted them to know Samuel, and know that he was protecting me, and watching over me.

He squeezed my hands, and we said
I do
. I have never been more passionate or more certain about anything in my entire life. But on that day, with that man, I knew exactly where I was supposed to be, in what time and place. When his lips touched mine, there was nothing between us, but our love.

We honeymooned into the mountains of upstate New York. Samuel took me to the exquisite massive Victorian Castle resort, where only the most notable and distinguished guests took up residence. I felt like I had plummeted further into time, and further into my adventure in love with Sam. The spiraling eaves of the castle caressed the sky, overlooking the striking cliffs that dipped down into a picture perfect lake, reflecting the castle and the sky back up at itself.

Sam held my hand, and led me up to our suite in the towers of the castle. The bellhop brought us a little welcome tray of cakes and sweets and tea to complement the taste. We couldn’t be bothered.

Sam scooped up some frosting from one of the little cakes on his finger, and I tasted it with my tongue. “Lucy,” he told me, “I love you more than I can even explain.” I exhaled, and brought him close to me, kissing him, our first real embrace as husband and wife.

“I love you so much, Sam,” I said, “I can’t imagine being happier.”

He picked me up and carried me into the bedroom. We made love there, in the mountains. With his arms around me that night, I felt safer and more euphoric than I would have ever thought possible. The fog had been wiped away, and the memories of my past life had been pushed into a distant corner of my mind. I felt myself settling in the present, holding Sam’s hand and feeling him up against me, wondering if my past life hadn’t all been but a dream.

Parts of this time of my life have begun to mix in with the fog. And I know that these memories are jaded, for my own protection. I don’t like to go there. Not always. I don’t like to remember it all, because it can just be too painful.

Shortly after our honeymoon, I found out that I was pregnant. I was overwhelmed, but also completely overjoyed. I was still overcome with love and passion for Sam, and had let the worries of my past and the pain of my forgotten family drift out of my mind. This news helped maintain the steadfast euphoria that had penetrated my life, and I was all the better for it. I still thought of my family, but now when I did, I did it from a more positive light. I imagined that my father’s excursions had slowed down, and that he and my mother had a feeling that I was alright, surviving in this time, and happy. My heart still yearned for them, as it did for Becky and her company—
if only she could see me now
—but it was more of a bittersweet contentment, with my overall feeling of belonging and purpose in the now current past.

Sam was incredible. Every day we would go on a walk together, down the bustling, yet pleasant streets of northwest Manhattan. He would place a hand on my lower back to steady me, and lead me through the streets to the market, or a coffee shop. In the late spring, I was very heavy with child, and we had started to walk more slowly.

“I wish I could spend all of my time with you.” Sam leaned in, kissing my neck. The times had caught up with me and I gasped, shooing him away.

“Sam!” I laughed, “What will people say?” I gave him a rather sly look.

“I don’t care what they say,” he said, smirking, “They’ll know how much I love my wife.”

I looked up at him. “You’re so good to me, how did I get so lucky?”

He kissed my forehead then, and looked into my eyes. “The question is how did
I
get so lucky. It was as if you just popped up out of nowhere, and fell into my arms.”

His metaphor surprised me, and I blushed suddenly, wondering if there was any way he could know, but I knew there wasn’t. If I wasn’t so certain that the medical authorities would have carried me away and locked me up, I probably would have confided in him. It wasn’t that I didn’t trust him; I just didn’t have any proof. I myself had questioned it enough over the years. And I knew if I were in his shoes, I most likely would have called a physician upon hearing something so bizarre as that.

I squeezed his arm. “Maybe I’ll just have to call the lieutenant, and tell them that you can’t come in tomorrow. The case at hand requires too much attention.”

He exhaled deeply, turning me towards him, and placing both hands on my hips. I felt my face flush, and I bit my lower lip.

“Hmmm,” he said, “We might have to start an investigation…”

I giggled, and grabbed his arm with both of my hands, pressing my head into his chest. When, suddenly—it happened.

My face went white, and I felt a rush of liquid between my legs.

“Sam…” I said, but he already knew.

“Is it happening?
It’s happening!
” he exclaimed. Still holding me, he began waving his hands in the air, wildly, shouting for help, and for someone to flag down a taxi. “We’re having a baby!” he shouted, “Our baby is coming!”

Edward Lee. That was his name. He came into the world with the Sullivans, Samuel’s parents, and my husband by my side. He was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. I couldn’t believe that Sam and I, and our love, had created him. I held him, and watched his tiny little eyes meet my own, feeling our bond grow. At that moment, I truly had everything I could have ever wanted, and nothing else mattered. But I should have known that it was too perfect to last. As the fog rolls into the harbor to engulf the resting ships, the joy and love in your life can be snuffed out like the flame on a candle. I shouldn’t have forgotten how suddenly your life could get turned upside down.

Edward was the happiest child I had ever seen. He really didn’t cry much, and was generally very content. I was amazed. Adelle stayed with us in the city for a few months after he was born. She was an enormous help, and Edward loved her like a second mother. Which she truly was. She would sit up at night nursing him out of a bottle, when I had gone to bed, insisting that I get enough rest. Edward would wrap his little fingers around hers and smile, happy to be held, happy to be loved.

Adelle also taught me what it takes to be a mother—and more specifically, what it took to be a mother in turn of the century America. It was certainly a world very different to the one I was born into. As Edward’s tiny teeth came in, Adelle procured a little leather strap for him to teethe on. I thought he would reject it, as it tasted rather foul, but his sunny demeanor prevailed, and he would smile, looking up at me, little hand clutched around my finger, and the other holding the petite strap positioned carefully in his mouth.

The strangest, and probably the least glamorous part of child rearing, was washing diapers by hand. The ladies of the book club had purchased me some lovely cloth diapers, with little blue storks embroidered on the corners, and little round safety pins to hold them up. Adelle showed me how to wrap them around Edward, and when he groaned for a change, we would wash them in scalding water to prevent infection, and hang them up to dry in our little laundry room. I never imagined how much work it would be—all of the little details—but it was in those that my life seemed to come together. In the simplicity, and the love of my new family, and my young son.

One day Sam came home with a little gift bag. He had stopped at the toy store, and purchased hand carved alphabet blocks for Edward.

“Hey there, son,” he said, lifting him into the air. “I’m going to teach you your letters,” he smiled at me, “your mother and I are, together.”

Edward laughed, and smiled, his fat little cheeks pressing up against his eyes.

“I’m so proud of him,” Sam said. I came over to them and he put one arm around my waist, the other cradling Edward. “Maybe he’ll go into the force one day.”

“I know he’ll do so many great things, won’t you, Edward?” Edward cooed out
Momma
, reaching his chubby little fingers out towards me.

Sam chuckled, and passed him off reluctantly. “You get all the fun, don’t you?”

I smiled, “I’m still waiting for you to tell the office you have a serious investigation at home you have to see to.”

“Detective Finnik, ma’am, how may I assist you?”

“You may love me,” I said, and he kissed me sweetly on the lips. “And you may protect us,” I said, looking down at Edward. It was a perfect moment.

With the little wooden blocks, and some marbles, Sam and I, and Adelle and John when they came to visit on the weekends, began to teach Edward his ABCs and to count. He was a toddler then, and he loved rolling the marbles around, “One, two, three…” after three he would always stop and smile up at me, laughing, “Mommy, what’s after three?”

“Silly, you know,” I would smile back. It was a game we had. But he caught on nonetheless. Smart as a whip.

He was the light of my life, and we were inseparable. I spent all of my time at home with him, or going on outings to Central Park with my new young mothers group. Edward made friends with the other young boys and girls, and we would take them to the pond and let them feed the ducks. On the weekends, Sam and I would take him to visit his grandparents on weekends when they weren’t in town. He loved going out into the country, into the little town. We would drive out, the bumpy little car jostling us about as we made our way onto the cobblestone streets, and little dirt roads in the pastures.

But it wasn’t long after that that my entire world came crashing down before my eyes.

That kind of devastation is something that I hadn’t felt since the morning I saw my father vanish before my own eyes, stranding me alone in a foreign dimension. I never thought I would face heartache like that again. But time is a wicked mistress, and she always has wiles up her sleeves to shove you down right after you have climbed up so far.

It was winter of 1909, and Edward was still just a little tot. That winter in particular was extremely cold, and we had to burn a fire at all times to keep the house warm. I didn’t dare take him outside, for fear of him catching cold. But despite my efforts, it found its way to him.

I woke up one morning to Edward crying in his bed. Sam had already left for work, and Adelle and John were visiting, but they were still asleep upstairs. When I saw his face that morning, it was like looking into the future. I could feel instinctively that something was desperately wrong, but I didn’t realize the magnitude of that fear. Edward’s little face was stark white, and his nose and lips were scarlet. I ran to him, and he cried for me like he had never done before. I felt sick to my stomach with panic. As soon as I touched him, I could feel the heat radiating off of his body. The fever had already struck him.

Sam stayed home from work the next day. He never stayed home from work. The doctor had come, giving him intravenous liquids, and cough syrup. It was the flu. To my horror, I learned that the flu was thought to still be a bacterial infection; no one knew it was a virus at this point in time. And even if they had, it would have been too late for a vaccination. He was already in the thick of the illness. I couldn’t say anything to the doctor, but stood by in dread realizing that my son was ill with something that scientists of the time did not fully understand, and could do almost nothing about. I left the room and sobbed. Sam sat with Edward, holding him tight under a wool blanket.

He died a week later. Frail, coughing, and almost incoherent. His little body had been quivering for days, and he had lost weight from being unable to keep food down. Sam and I were both in the room when he passed. The Sullivans and the Finniks were both in the household, and they woke up within minutes of his passing. It was as if death had whispered in their ears as he floated by with my son. Everyone knew. And everyone mourned.

The one thing that I had loved more than life itself; the person who brought Sam and me closer than we had ever been, the moment that made me believe that I had come to this time for a reason, had been taken from my hands, had been stripped from my being. After the funeral, Sam and I sat, holding each other, and weeping. The house was silent for weeks. We didn’t speak much, but to console one another. Our neighbors and the officers from the force and the young ladies from the reading group brought us food. I began to recluse.

I slipped away into another world. Into one of despair, and torment. When I had first stepped into this time, unknowingly and against my will, I had been incredibly fearful, and incredibly angry. The sadness had crept in afterwards, but it was caked with a layer of confusion, from my disbelief that any of it had actually occurred. This was a level of despair that I didn’t understand was possible to feel. My body felt hard, and empty. I didn’t want to eat, or sleep. Nothing soothed the pain. And looking at Sam made me ache; I saw Edward in his eyes. Sleeping next to him I would turn away. I couldn’t bear to look at him. He would hold me in his arms, and weep.

About a month after Edward died, I began to contemplate suicide. I thought of my parents, and of Becky. I wondered if I ended it now, if I would somehow end up back with them. Back in my own time. Perhaps that was the answer. Perhaps I just had to give it all up. And it wouldn’t have been hard to do now, not at all. Now, I had nothing.

One evening after Sam came home from work, I crept into his closet. Reaching into his uniform, I found his holster, and tucked inside, his pistol. I dropped to my knees on the wood floor of the closet, holding the chunk of steel in my hands. My shoulders began to shake violently, and I gasped for air, sobbing at everything I had lost, at how far I had come, only to be stripped of everything I ever loved and everyone who meant anything to me. It didn’t matter anymore. Nothing mattered. All I had was desolation.

Sam heard my cries, and came rushing into the closet.

“
Lucy!
” he cried, “Lucy, what is happening…?” He put his hand on my shoulder, and quietly took the gun from my trembling fingers.

I turned around to him and wrapped my arms around his neck, my tears sopping into his shirt collar. He locked the pistol and threw it to the side, holding me at tightly as he could.

“I love you,” his voice was trembling, “Oh God, Lucy, I love you, what are you thinking, baby?” Tears crept up in his eyes and began rushing down his cheeks.

“You can’t leave me too,” I screamed into his chest, “
you can’t leave me too!
Everyone is gone, they’re all gone, my family, and now…” My voice broke as I said his name, “and now Edward…I can’t go on like this, I can’t lose you too…” And my voice gave way to deep, heavy sobs.

We sat like that in the closet, for nearly an hour. Sam rubbed my back, consoling me, and telling me that he would never leave me. I knew he meant it. I knew he wouldn’t go away. But in the back of my mind, something had changed. The fog began to roll in, and I kept waiting to vanish.