The Legend of Garison Fitch (Book 1): First Time (19 page)

He paused, then added thoughtfully, "Or, maybe it's just because that conversation was the last real thing I associate with that world."

“I think it’s more than that, Garison.”

“Probably, but what are you thinking about? Specifically?”

“A lot of what he had in Texas—or claimed to have, that you obviously wanted—you have here. While we don’t have these automobiles you speak of, “she struggled through the word, but got it right, “We are pretty free to travel as we will. A man more than a woman, but even I seem to have more freedom to travel than people of your day. And while we don’t have many books, we treasure the ones we have rather than outlaw them. Those are the things you really admire about, what was it you called it? Texas? We have many of the freedoms you desired. So, maybe, you remember that day because it was sort of a—what? catalyst?—for what you have now. That’s not the right word, but do you see what I mean?”

“Yes. I think I do. And I think you’re right. How did you get to be so smart?”

She thought a moment, making a show of thinking, then replied, “Some of us are just special.”

As she laughed, he replied, “You think you’re joking?” then began to kiss her.

Excerpt from
A Fitch Family History by Maureen Fitch Carnes

At what was probably the western edge of present day Kansas, Bear seems to have turned around to go home. Darius makes no mention of any sort of argument and seems quite surprised at the decision himself. Neither Darius or White Fawn ever saw Bear again. Darius was to write later in is life that he always wondered whether Bear made it back to his people or not.

[Author's note: while in Oklahoma, I made a cursory check of the Cherokee tribal records but could find no record of Bear. He still may have made it back home. All the absence of his name in the records may mean, however, is that he died before the government began keeping records of the deaths (and births) of Indians. The Cherokee, especially those under Quanah Parker, were one of the last tribes to surrender and it is very possible that Bear could have lived quite a long life and still died before the records were kept or lived "outside officialdom". It is also possible he was listed in the records as “Bear Johnson” or “Jim Bear” or some other such contrived white name. Many Indians were listed in those records under names they never knew in life.]

Chapter Twelve

Garison 's life changed more drastically in that winter of 1739-40 than it ever had before—even counting the travel through time. All the changes were for the better and all the good was somehow related to Sarah.

For the first time since his parents were killed, Garison had someone to come home to at the end of a day of work. Beyond that, for the first time he felt as if he really had a home to come to. His house in La Plata Canyon had been a home, but a lot like a hermitage in that he came home to it to cloister himself even further away from the world than the canyon could alone.

The home he came home to now, however, really was a home. It was a house on what they were starting to call Sycamore Street, though there wasn't a sycamore tree on it or even in sight. It was a one-story frame house, simple but well-kept, that Garison planned on painting blue when spring came. It had trees growing in the yard and oleanders growing by the door, but all these things were cosmetic. What made the house a home was on the inside, but had nothing to do with the calico curtains over the windows or the bear-skin rug on the floor.

What made it a home was Sarah. The curtains and the rugs (some of which were woven) and cups on the shelves and the doilies on the chairs and every little item were placed where they were with care. She had decorated it sparsely but carefully, creating an atmosphere of warmth that the fireplace could only jealously compete with.

But the true warmth and the love came from Sarah herself. With each day of marriage she somehow got prettier and her hair became more golden and her smile more warming. Or so Garison thought. The townspeople may have noticed an added glow, or a more prominent smile, but not like Garison noticed. To him, Sarah was what made every day worth getting up for, and every night worth lying down for. He was head over heels in love and even he recognized the tremendous change it had brought on him.

Some other changes came upon Garison that winter, though they all paled in comparison to the bliss of married life. He began work in the furniture shop and soon had a reputation for excellent work. It had taken him a while to get used to the manual tools—as opposed to the power tools he had had in his shop in Marx. He had always prided himself on doing most of the woodwork he did in the canyon with hand tools, only using the power tools for certain jobs, but he had never realized what it was like to do an entire job with only his hands—and very crude tools at that. Still, once he had gotten used to it, he enjoyed the feel of boring a hole using a crude hand-held drill and, sometimes, a hot pipe with which he burned a hole into the wood. He even came to enjoy ripping a long piece of wood with a hand-saw rather than with the table-saw he had once had, but he did sometimes wish the mill in Alexandria where he bought most of his raw wood wouldn't sell it quite so...raw. It had taken him a while to get used to paying for supposedly pre-cut wood that still had the bark on it.

Garison also had a small legal case fall into his lap which proved to be a large legal case. What had started out as a young man, who was the son of a formerly indentured servant, suing to receive wages due from his employer (and former master of his mother), turned into a sordid tale of adultery and paternity. Garison had felt a sincere disgust as the details of the relationship between the plantationer and the young man's mother had come out, but he had successfully argued that the young man deserved not just the wages he was owed, but a share in the old man's estate. The man had finally admitted that he could, indeed, be the young man's father and had given the lad a more than generous settlement. The boy had promised to be silent and not bring the matter up again, but the word got out nonetheless that Garison was quite a lawyer.

It was then that offers began to role in for Garison to move to Alexandria or even Boston and join other, wealthy, lawyers. He declined, preferring to try only small cases and devote most of his time to his wife and his carpentry shop. It struck him that such a sedentary existence would have been anathema to him at one point in his life, but he reveled in it now. He had once worked wood as a means of allowing himself to think about "bigger" things: particle physics, interdimensional travel, classic debate. Now, he found himself working wood and thinking about Sarah.

They had just gotten ready for bed and climbed under the thick down comforter on a surprisingly chilly night in May when Sarah kissed him and whispered, "Do you remember what we talked about on our wedding night?"

Laughing playfully, he replied, "We talked? I don't remember that."

She slapped him lightly and asked, "Is your mind ever anywhere else?"

"Not often." Garison chuckled. He reached out to stroke her blonde locks and said, "Not when we're in bed and your hair is down and—"

Purposefully ignoring the soft touch of his hand—and it was a struggle, for she often felt herself melting at his touch—she told him, "We talked about La Plata Canyon and about going there some day."

"I remember that," he said, leaning forward to kiss her lightly on the lips.

She returned the kiss briefly, then pulled back with a look of slight exasperation on her face and said, "Garison, I'm trying to tell you something and—and it's very hard when you're trying so hard to distract me."

"Sorry," he replied, though he really wasn't. He tried to look apologetic as he took his hand from her hair and asked, "What did you want to say?"

She took a deep breath, then asked, "Do you remember when we said that—if we couldn't make it there ourselves—maybe one of our grandchildren would discover La Plata Canyon?"

"Yeah?" he replied, a little confused.

She smiled sheepishly and said, "It may happen."

He looked at her, completely bewildered, "Huh?"

She rolled her eyes, then told him, "I mean, we may have a grandchild who can discover La Plata Canyon."

He looked at her, still deeply confused for a moment, then his eyes grew as big as two-bit pieces and he asked, "Grandchildren? You mean, now?"

"No, silly. Before you have grandchildren you have to have..." she motioned for him to finish the statement.

"Children?" he completed. She nodded and he asked excitedly, "We're going to have children? I mean, a child?" She nodded more emphatically.

He took her into his arms and hugged her tightly, then quickly let go and asked, "Can I still do that?"

"Yes, for as long as you like. The baby is well protected."

"The baby?" he said in awe. Looking from her face to her abdomen and back again, he asked, "When?"

She shrugged, but said, "I'm not sure, but I think I am about three months along. So that would make it, when? November?"

"Three months? And you haven't said anything?"

"I wasn't sure. I've been a little sick to my stomach a couple times, but not, well, heaving like I hear so many women do. But it's been about three months since I had my—my regular time. I thought you might notice but now that I think of it I haven't had my time but twice since we've been married so I'm not surprised that you haven't kept track—"

"This is wonderful!" he said as he hugged her again. The hug turned into a kiss and later, after much discussion about babies and pregnancy, the kiss turned into something more. Garison wished he could somehow know when the conception had actually occurred, but he knew that one night in May and the first night after the wedding were the two he would always remember most vividly of making love to the only woman he had ever made love to.

Even Garison's once-consuming memories of La Plata Canyon began to fade when Sarah gave birth to Justin Fitch. Justin came early (or Sarah's figuring had been off), October 18, and was a sort of anniversary present commemorating Garison and Sarah's first date. He was followed from the womb by Henry Fitch fifteen months later. Both were dark-headed like their father, but Justin got his father's blue eyes and Henry got his mother's green eyes. As to other features, both were a good mixture of both parents.

As soon as Justin was able to stand, Garison began teaching him football. With Henry sitting nearby, and Sarah often watching as well, Garison kicked an India rubber ball back and forth with Justin. Garison had tried to work with a leatherworker in Alexandria to design a football like he remembered from the twentieth century, but they hadn't been able to achieve a suitable bladder. So Garison continued to purchase the largest India Rubber balls he could find and remind himself not to hit them with his head. Justin was far too young to understand all that Garison tried to teach him, but he did enjoy kicking things. The really tough part was when he became excited and Garison tried to teach him to only kick the ball and not his little brother.

As Justin became more steady on his feet, Garison began taking him for walks in the woods. Borrowing an idea from the twentieth century, Garison even turned his old knapsack into a carrier in which Henry could come along for the ride. When not at the wood shop, Garison could most likely be found out in the woods with his family for Sarah enjoyed coming along as well. Garison had taught himself a bit of the skill of tracking back in La Plata Canyon—aided sometimes by Charlie and Johnny Begay—and he passed on what he knew to the boys.

Henry began to walk even sooner than Justin had—some people said it was because he just couldn't wait any longer. Soon, there were three Fitch men kicking around the ball. Sarah often held up her skirts and joined in, not caring that some women said such actions weren't "lady-like". Sarah's interest was in her family, not the wagging tongues of people without lives of their own.

Garison was doing less and less legal work by the time Henry was toddling around but, when he was persuaded by Reginald Timpkins to serve as barrister in a property dispute, Garison was reminded how much he loved to argue before a jury even if he hated the paperwork side of the business. Timpkins convinced Garison to aid him on another case shortly thereafter, and the air of the courtroom was again in Garison's blood (though he could not get used to the powdered wigs). The offers came in again to move his practice to a larger town and take on more clients, but Garison still treated the law as a hobby and was determined to keep it in that perspective. Thus, he stayed in Mount Vernon in the face of lucrative offers from elsewhere, which further endeared him to the town.

Despite only occasionally practicing law, Garison Fitch became known as one of the Virginia colony's brightest young lawyers. While part of the fame was owed to his brilliant mind and more than passable oratory skills, Garison admitted to Sarah that much of his success came from the fact that—in his time—the cases being argued had already been dealt with. [Perhaps not identical cases, but cases with remarkably similar details.] So, it was of no difficulty to successfully argue a case that, according to Garison's memory, already had a well-established precedent. Even if he could not remember the specific case, he often remembered similar cases and their established precedent.

Three and a half years after the marriage of the Fitchs, Sarah gave birth to Helen Fitch. With an abundance of blonde hair—even at birth—she was hailed as the heir apparent to her mother's beauty. By this time, the town had long since forgiven their animosity to the one who had for so long been "that bastard." In fact, Sarah had become one of the most respected young women in town and was often sought out by other women for advice. It was also apparent to many that Sarah was her husband's intellectual equal, an idea that Garison was the first to acknowledge. It was rare, but there were even occasions when men would ask Sarah's opinion on politics or law, knowing that she had as good a grasp of the subject as her husband. Many said it was only because she had been instructed by her husband, but grudgingly admitted that—if that were so—she had an amazing retention of what he had taught her.