Sunder (43 page)

“You can’t be…” Shannan’s whisper trailed off as she straightened to her full height, confusion creasing her face.

“I am.” Isabella gave a warm smile in an attempt to put her at ease. “My real name is Isabella Jaramillo and I come from 2114.”

Taking a thoughtful pause, Shannan took a moment to look closely into Isabella’s face. “Why have you been here for so long? I read about you, and you created your system of pulleys to maximize your tanning output decades ago. That means…”

“I’ve been here for thirty-five years.” Isabella finished the girl’s sentence. “But unlike Daniel, that wasn’t my plan. I was sent here as an act of revenge.”

“Revenge for what?”

“Being a terrible person,” Isabella said darkly, the smile dropping from her face. In her long wait for Shannan’s arrival, Isabella had made a loose plan of what to tell her—how much of her life to explain so that Shannan would both believe her and be inspired to help. But now that the day was finally here, she could hear her voice shaking. Directing her memory back to who she had been all those years ago was tying her stomach in a knot.

“Do you need to sit down?” Shannan offered her arm, ostensibly to escort Isabella to a soft spot to sit. All she saw was an old woman with a bum leg; she understood nothing of what Isabella had gone through. Nor did she understand that the trials of being a refugee in time were soon to be hers.
The poor girl.

“No, I would rather walk than sit. Besides, there is something very important I need to tell you.”

Without waiting for a response, Isabella stabbed her cane into the ground, propelling herself forward toward the far left corner of the church yard.

“When did Daniel die?” Shannan only needed one long step to regain her place alongside Isabella. “And why would he reveal his traveler status to you? How did he know you were —”

“Daniel died of old age. This man here,” Isabella paused to jab her walking stick at Garrick’s headstone as she limped past it, “was his best friend. He died seven hours after Daniel took his last breath. I’ll admit that was one death I did not mourn.” She rolled her eyes. “Amazing how long the truly awful bastards can live.”

“So what does that say about you?” There was a smile in Shannan’s voice, but when Isabella glanced over at her, she could see she was holding back tears.

“Did you think you would find him alive?” She halted, feeling winded from the few steps she had taken.

“No,” Shannan sniffed. “He had me send him back so far… far enough from my arrival date that any investigator wouldn’t think to look for him. But I hoped. Even though he told me to mourn him as dead, I hoped he defied the odds and was still alive. I really—he was very important to me.”

Isabella reached out and put her hand on Shannan’s arm. It was odd to her how instantly Shannan accepted what Isabella told her. In practicing for this day, Isabella had envisioned having to go through a wide array of tricks and a divulging of secrets to convince the girl this was not a trap of some kind. But here she was, happily confessing to a stranger that she aided a wanted man in his escape from authorities.
Trusting, aren’t we?

“I’m glad he had a friend here.” Shannan squeezed the hand Isabella had placed on her arm. “If you don’t mind me asking, do you come from Spain? Or has your accent just changed after so many years of speaking Saxon?”

That was as good an opening as any. “Neither, my dear. I come from Florida. But in my world, everyone in the American Republic speaks Spanish as their first language.”

Shannan took her hand back, her mouth falling open in a look of distress. “You shouldn’t tell me that. That’s my future, I can’t—”

“No, it isn’t. Or at least it shouldn’t be. Tell me child, did you know a young man by the name of Alfredo Jaramillo?”

Taking a step back, Shannan smiled in recognition. “Fredo? Of course. He was one of my students. He actually went on a trip to England the same day I did. A different time period though, obviously.”

Isabella smiled and nodded at her. “He’s my father.”

An enormous smile broke out on her pretty face. “I should have known. You look just like him!” She threw her arms around Isabella and giggled into her ear. “I’m so happy he went on to great things.”

“No, Shannan. He changed the past.” The arms around her stiffened. “I come from the new timeline he created.”

“What are you talking about?” Shannan backed away, a look of disbelief finally crossing her face. “You couldn’t possibly know that, even if it were true.”

“I know because of Daniel. In your world, the middle of the North American Continent is occupied by something called Kansas. That’s where your University is. In my world, the middle of the continent—all of it—is land owned by the Choctaw-Cherokee Alliance. They supply the Republic of America with grain in exchange for complete autonomy. All the native peoples have been living there since they came to an agreement with our government in 1899.”

Shannan stared back at her, her eyes widened in alarm. Was she afraid it was true, or afraid Isabella was crazy?

“Daniel told me a bit about your history, this United States you come from,” Isabella continued. “Your economy rose to dominance during the second great war, the one where you had a despot named Hitler try to exterminate the Jews. But you see, we only had one great war in the early 1900s. And there has never been one since. The only Hitler I remember from history is an Austrian artist who is famous for one vulgar painting hanging in Hofburg Palace.”

Shannan mouthed the word
artist
several times, her eyes darting left and right. “So there was no mass extermination?”

“Of Jews? No, they established their own country in Mesopotamia.” Isabella shrugged. “Occasionally you’ll see one in America, but largely they keep to their own country.”

Biting down on her lower lip, Shannan swayed from foot to foot. “So the past involves Hitler the painter. What about our future… the one Alfredo created—what does that look like?”

Isabella gave a dry laugh and waved her hand over the headstones surrounding her. “This is my future. The outcome of
your
future is entirely up to you. If you go back to 2073, you will be alone and helpless to change what happened. But if you agree to go to 2114, then perhaps you can put the world back as it should be.”

“I – I’m not…”

Isabella held a hand up. “It’s all right. It’s a bit much to take in all at once, isn’t it? I’ve had decades to process all of this.” She let her mind drift as her eyes settled over the long crooked lines of headstones, the sheer number of them overwhelming her for a moment. “I’ll tell you what. Let’s not think about the timeline for a moment. Walk with me.” She jerked her head and turned to her left, walking in a slow diagonal toward Thorstein and Saoirse’s spot. “You can take a moment and listen to my story—from the beginning.”

Shannan nodded numbly and walked alongside her. The poor girl seemed overwhelmed.

“You know,” Isabella wrapped her arm around Shannan’s shoulders. “I was only a little older than you when I first arrived here.”

Isabella had been right about the weather. The sun beat down on them mercilessly as they made steady laps around the church yard. For hours, Isabella walked and talked, with Shannan listening intently. Round and around they went, Isabella pointing to gravestones as she passed them, even if they didn’t have anything to do with the story she was telling. For the beginning of her tale—her life in Miami—she had stationed them next to Emilio’s grave. After it came to light Annis had flogged herself, Sigbert had insisted that whatever remained of Emilio should be buried in the churchyard, making it the very first grave Isabella would visit on a regular basis, but certainly not the last.

Shannan was such a sweet girl; Isabella had no trouble understanding why Selwyn had liked and trusted her. At each stop in the cemetery, Shannan had given Isabella’s hand a small squeeze of support. Telling the girl all that had happened to her since arriving in Shaftesbury was easy, a relief even. As she came to the graves of her friends, one by one, she could finally tell the full truth to someone. It had been harder though to tell Shannan of her life in Miami. Even without knowing Mama’s true identity, Shannan had bawled unabashedly when Isabella had recounted coming home to find her in the pool. It had been hard to restrain herself from telling Shannan that Mama had been Monica, her best friend. But the sheer empathy for a stranger’s pain had driven her to tears. What must she be like when losing someone she actually knew? Actually, Isabella had had to restrain herself multiple times when discussing her parents. All she wanted to do was pump Shannan for information on her parents when they were young, in their original timeline. What were they like?

Finally, after ending their hours-long sojourn of grave visitation, Isabella had allowed Shannan to lead her out of the cemetery gates and over to the shade of the tree just outside the church where Simon laid waiting for her. Sitting against the trunk and enjoying the meager breeze, Shannan had leaned over to whisper
Thank you for sharing with me
into Isabella’s ear, as if she had bestowed some type of honor on her. Truly a sweet girl.

“Shannan?”

“Mmm?” She stopped petting the dog and looked up at Isabella.

“Have you decided what you think is best to do for your return trip?”

Shannan cocked an eyebrow in a look of exaggerated confusion. “There really isn’t a choice here. If I go back using my beacon, I’ll just end up in an alternate timeline with no way to fix it. Going to 2114 to talk with your father is really the only way.” She smiled. “It’s so weird to think of him as someone’s father.”

Isabella nodded. “For me it’s difficult to imagine him as a teenager.”

“It’s going to be a trick to reprogram this thing,” Shannan fingered her medallion absently. “I don’t know if I can do it without a computer.”

“I have a better idea for your return trip, if you’re willing.” Isabella reached into the woven purse hanging from her hip and pulled out the heavy clump of metal.

“What’s that?”

“It’s my beacon.” Isabella held up the crucifix so she could see it better, the mottled tangle of wires hanging out of the back. “It’s the one Emilio tried to assemble for me. But we just… didn’t have the time. I don’t know how to assemble it. Selw- Daniel said you would be able to.”

Shannan nodded assuredly, her eyes fixed firmly on the device. “And this will take me to 2114?”

“Yes. To one week after I disappeared. So you can tell them what’s happened. If they have any doubts, they can examine the coordinates in your beacon and verify where you came from.”

“Actually, my temporal displacement field is projected from an implant in my arm, not in my beacon.”

Shannan held out her hand, allowing Isabella to give her the beacon.  For a moment, she simply stared at the crucifix silently, her eyes not even blinking. Then she snapped out of her momentary trance and pulled a small pin from her hair. With the crucifix laid out on the ground in front of her, Shannan began rearranging the tiny wires, both with nimble, quick fingers and with the small tool she had removed from her hair. The bulky retrieval assembly that had seemed to be too large for the exterior crucifix slid easily into the silver casing and, in less than two minutes, Shannan had connected the assembly to the tiny battery and slid the back over seamlessly into place.

With a deep breath, Shannan looked up and smiled. “Easy as pie.”

“Very impressive.” Isabella felt a sudden shard pang in her stomach, wondering what would have become of her life if Emilio had been as adept with the device.

“Isabella?” Shannan bent her head, eyeing Isabella with an air of concern. “Are you all right?”

“Yes,” she coughed out. “I wonder if I might ask you for a favor.”

“Anything.”

“I can’t be sure of course, but if I’m right, you will be meeting my Father shortly after you arrive. The hardest part about my decision to stay here was knowing that I would be hurting him. I can’t even imagine what he’s been going through. I’d like to make a recording for him.”

Tears welled up in Shannan’s eyes once more. “Of course I’ll make sure he gets it.”

“Great.” Isabella let out a shaky exhale and wrapped her fingers around Simon’s front paw. “Push down twice on Jesus’ left hand.” Seeing Shannan follow her instructions, Isabella spoke up. “Computer, make a traveler log.”

Acknowledged. Do you wish to erase the current recording?
The mechanized voice replied, still sharp as ever after all these years.

“No.”

“Wow, that’s—”

Isabella held a finger over her lips, silencing Shannan.

Recording will begin in 3-2-1. Begin.

Only one beat passed, then Deorca Tanner—Isabella Jaramillo—nodded her head and began to speak. 

“Hello Father.” The rasp in her voice caught Isabella off guard and she cleared her throat loudly. She wanted her voice to sound like it had in her youth, though she knew that was not possible.

“I can only imagine what you’re feeling right now, looking at Shannan instead of me. But I wanted to… Papi, I wanted to say goodbye. I know after Shannan tells you where I am, you’ll want to come get me. But you can’t. Or at least you shouldn’t. To avoid a paradox, you would have to come rescue me after I met Shannan, and to be honest, I don’t want to go back to Miami. When I first landed here in England, I would have done anything to get home, to get back to you. But that was a long time ago.