Accidental Tourist by Marcia Gaines
Chapter Ten, Thoughtful Moments
(South Dakota, 2012)
Helena and Nikola sat at the table near the platform. Everyone else had dispersed throughout the Warehouse and the only noise other than their conversation was the quiet hum of the self-generating battery keeping Myka's connection to her mind alive. Helena picked up a card from the deck on the table and placed it in her hand. She paired it with two other cards and laid them down before placing a fourth card on top of the discard pile. "Do you really have to leave in the morning?" She asked him.
"Mmm, yes, I have a number of things to do." He picked up her discard and laid it down within three others before making a discard. "But I can come back if you'd like. Sleeping Beauty will be out for another couple of weeks, right?"
"Yes," said Helena. "She won't wake up for another eighteen days… though it will feel like eighteen years before it's done, most likely." She sighed heavily and pulled a card from the deck. She discarded it and watched as Nikola picked it up.
He laid down his entire hand, discarded, and said "Gin." Helena blinked twice and stared as his cards in disbelief. She had never lost a game of Gin to him in all the years they had known one another. "Okay, out with it. Something's going on that you're not telling me. You never lose at this game."
Helena looked at her cards again and tossed them on the table. "I don't know, Nikola. I don't know!" He raised an eyebrow as she stood and started pacing. "What if she doesn't come back? What if something happens to her?" She had not yet told him her real fears or who Emma had been to her. The only thing he knew was that Myka was trapped in another time.
Nikola regarded her carefully and sat forward before asking his loaded question. "So have you told her how you feel, yet, or are you still in denial yourself?"
Her head shot up at the question. "Told her how I feel about what?"
"Denial it is." He leaned back in his chair before continuing. "You know, I'll never understand what it is with you glorious English women in my life. You can be so alluringly brilliant and yet so incredibly daft at the same time." Helena stared at him. "Are you really not aware of your feelings for gorgeous over there?" She followed his eyes and looked at Myka.
Helena gave a defeated sigh and dropped her shoulders in resignation. "No, I know how I feel," she said quietly. "I just didn't think anyone else knew."
"I'm not an idiot," he said with a laugh. "But, then, there was never any doubt about that." He looked up at her. "The more important matter at hand is whether or not she knows. Does she know?"
Helena shook her head. "No, I don't think so."
"And how does she feel about you?" He watched her as he asked the question noting her sudden agitation.
Helena started pacing again. "It's never come up, Nikola. I haven't the foggiest idea. We've known each other a good while, now, and there are so many times I've wanted to tell her – so many things I haven't said." She stopped and looked at Myka. Her words were a whisper when she spoke. "So many things I might never get to say."
"Well, in a couple of weeks you'll get to rectify that," he said. "Have you thought about what you'll say when she wakes up?"
Helena blinked and felt a sudden sense of dread. That she would have to look Myka in the eye afterwards had not even crossed her mind.
(Chicago, 05 May 1893)
"What's all this?" Myka sat in the expansive sitting area looking at the myriad of papers, notes, and books splayed out over the floor and sofa. She noted numerous scientific texts ranging from basic biology to complex optics as well as philosophical tomes, and even a small variety of medical-themed periodicals. "It looks like someone's been very hard at work in here." Without thinking she picked up a book she found laying face-down on the floor. She marked the page with one of the papers before carefully closing it and depositing it safely on the table in front of her. As she set it down she caught movement out of the corner of her eye and quickly reached out to successfully rescue one of Helena's papers from Charles' cat. She smiled and scratched Mrs. Godswine on her head before letting her sprint away. Myka placed the paper with the others and started laughing. The rescued sheet of notes was only the most recent casualty judging by the teeth marks peppering every other loose piece of paper.
"Oh, yes. Sorry about the mess." Helena lifted her head from the cast-iron pot she had set and turned the burner off. "It's just a bit of research I'm doing. I'd forgotten I left it out here. I usually do all my work in the study."
Myka scanned the table. The green hard-covered text was worn and ragged. It was clearly a well-used and under-loved favorite; many of its pages seemed to have been dog-eared making the book appear slightly fuller than it otherwise should. She adjusted it on the table and tilted her head to read the lettering: On the Origin of Species. Myka glanced over at Helena, who was setting their places at the dining table, before returning her gaze to the tattered book. She flipped carefully to the cover page: On the Origin of the Species by Means of Natural Selection, or the Preservation of Favoured Races in the Struggle for Life by Charles Darwin, M.A.. She looked at the publication date and noted it as 1859. "Wow," she said in an awed voice. "A first edition?" She calculated the worth in her head and winced when she considered the condition of the text.
"What's that dear?" Helena walked glassware over to the table and returned to the kitchen.
"This," Myka said and lifted the book. "It's a first edition?" She noted the appearance of what looked like ink near the top of the page, but it was not ink exactly. Closer examination told her the writing from which the ink had bled was on the other side. She turned the page and quickly read the inscription: H.G., may all your dearest inquiries one day have answers. The autograph was nearly illegible. "A signed first edition?" Myka closed the book and set it down reverently. "Incredible."
"Indeed. I met Mr. Darwin a few years before his death. I suppose that was about eight or so years ago, if memory serves." She paused and leaned against the counter as she spoke. "He was quite the character, always had a gleam in his eye when he talked of his theories. He found my many questions to be hugely entertaining." She picked up a towel and folded it thoughtfully in her hands. "We had a lively discussion about the implications of humanity's degeneration, once." She used the towel to help protect her hands as she lifted the handle of the pot from the stove and began walking toward the dining room. "It rather intrigued me, as you can no doubt appreciate. The idea of what could happen if mankind were to find some sort of collision between its physical progression and its societal one. That sent me off in search of the possibilities, and improbabilities, of the direction in which nature might take the advancement of mankind. The ensuing research I did ended up as the basis for Charles' short story, "The Chronic Argonauts" which he's currently considering reworking for the Pall Mall." She set the pot on the table and turned around. "I think we're ready to eat now."
Myka stood and walked to the dining room. She sat in the chair Helena pulled out for her and placed the linen napkin in her lap. Helena smiled and took the seat next to her. "What's a 'Pall Mall'?" Myka asked as she cut a piece of bread from the freshly baked loaf near the pot. It was still hot to the touch and she quickly dropped it on Helena's plate before shaking her fingers in the air.
"Oh, yes, I do forget I'm in America sometimes." She lifted the lid from the pot and the delectable odor of home-made stew filled the air as she stirred its contents with a ladle. "The Pall Mall Gazette. It's an evening newspaper back home, in London. Until recently it was a rather radical paper."
Myka cut herself a piece of bread, careful not to burn her fingers this time. "Until recently? What happened?" She reached for the butter and offered it to Helena who gladly took a few pats and spread them across Myka's bread before doing the same for her own. Myka set the butter plate down and picked up her bowl.
"Change in editors, I'm afraid. It truly is amazing how one person can so alter the course of events, don't you think?" Helena took Myka's bowl and filled it with the piping hot stew. "I hope you like it. With the weather out, I decided we could use something rather hearty."
"Thank you," Myka said as she took the bowl back. "It smells delicious!" She smiled and lifted a spoonful to her mouth blowing on it and before eagerly letting the flavors blend in her mouth. She could taste delectable bits of beef, potato, carrots, celery, and other vegetables in addition to the savory thick broth. It was perfect. "Mmm," she mumbled her approval and took another bite.
"Good," Helena smiled. "I'm glad you like it. It was always William's favorite, too."
"William?" Myka asked as she broke off a piece of her bread and popped it into her mouth.
"Mmhmm," she murmured as she swallowed a spoonful of the stew. "Surely I told you of Christina? My daughter?"
Myka racked her brain. She did not want to reveal knowledge of Christina without first making sure Helena had mentioned her since their meeting in this period. She could think of no occasion where the topic had arisen. "No, actually, you hadn't mentioned it," she said tentatively.
"Ah, well, yes I have a daughter, she's two now." Helena stood from the table and walked into the adjoining room where Myka had just been. She reached above the fireplace and returned with a small photograph showing her holding a newborn infant. A man stood behind her with his hand on the baby.
Myka looked at the photograph and smiled. "She looks just like you," she said and tore off another piece of bread. "Who's that?" She pointed at the man in the photograph and stuffed the bread into her mouth. The silky butter meshed incredibly well with the soft texture of the bread and she delighted in the way the era's non-processed food tasted so fresh and wholesome.
"That's William, Christina's father." Helena set the picture on the table. "We had this picture taken the day Christina was born, just a few days after our wedding." Myka choked on her bread so hard she could not catch her breath. "Gracious!" Helena exclaimed. She started to rise from her chair and then realized Myka was able to breathe, albeit with difficulty. She sat back down and watched her. "It's best not to try inhaling solid foods." Her observation was lost on Myka who struggled for air through a full ten seconds of violent coughing. "You know, I don't think I've ever seen anyone turn quite that shade of purple." Myka's sputtering slowed as Helena reached for a water glass. "Here, drink this."
Myka took the glass but coughed another few seconds before taking a long sip. When she was sure the fit was over she wiped at her face with her napkin. "Oh, man," she said. "I just…" she coughed one last time and shook her head as she replayed their exchange. "Sorry. Did you just say you're married?"
"Well not anymore," Helena said casually and resumed eating. "We were only together a short while. William was beside himself wanting to ensure Christina would have his last name, but I divorced him anyway – honestly, if I hadn't been pregnant I never would have married him in the first place. Poor chap took it quite hard." Myka stared at her. "He still sees her, which is good I suppose. That's where she is right now, actually, spending the summer with him." It took Myka a few minutes to digest the information. Somehow the idea of H.G. Wells as a Victorian-era divorcée seemed both impossible and appropriate at the same time. "Did you want some more water, darling?" Helena put her hand on the pitcher and nodded toward Myka's hand.
"What?" Myka looked at the glass she still held aloft. "Oh. No. No, I'm good," she said placing it back down. As they returned to their bowls they lost themselves in conversation spending most of the time in discussion about Helena's newest research into light-refraction. From the sound of it Myka determined the work would eventually result in the writing of "The Invisible Man." Before either of them knew it soft chimes from the sitting room's clock struck the nine o'clock hour. "Oh! It's getting late," Myka exclaimed and pushed herself back from the table. She had eaten two large bowls of the stout meal and was positively stuffed. "I really should be going. Thank you so much for the wonderful dinner." She stood from the table with effort.
"Anytime," Helena said. She genuinely meant it. She had enjoyed the woman's company immensely, finding the ability to converse on such complex topics both appealing and refreshing. She was already feeling a strange sense of loss knowing their night was drawing to its close. It struck her as odd that she should feel this way knowing they would see each other again so soon. She bit down on her lower lip as she followed Myka to the door. "I'll wait with you at the taxi stand," she said and grabbed a coat from the peg on the wall as Myka opened the front door.
"You don't need to do that," Myka replied. She looked outside and saw it was still raining harder than she would have liked. She did not want Helena in the deluge for no good reason.
"Nonsense," Helena responded. "It will do me good to see you off safely." She placed her hand on the small of Myka's back and gently pushed her forward. They walked two blocks to the nearest taxi-stand where Myka was able to flag a hansom. She gave the address to the driver at the rear of the vehicle and quickly boarded to avoid being rained upon further.
Myka leaned her head out of the window and gave Helena a quick smile. "I'll see you tomorrow at the storefront? Eleven o'clock?"
Helena smiled back and nodded. "Yes, I'll see you there." The driver called to the horses and the carriage rolled forward. Helena stood, hands in her pockets, watching the carriage until it disappeared behind the curtain of falling rain.
She walked home slowly, completely oblivious to the torrential storm, thinking only of the difficulty she had every time she had to say goodbye to Emma. She smiled as she thought of her face, and not for the first time wondered if Emma ever thought of her, too. She crossed the street and stepped down into a puddle of water without noticing. She was not entirely unfamiliar with the feelings rushing through her, she knew that much. Though she had yet to analyze them to the fullest extent, she decided to at least acknowledge them for what they were. She had more than just a passing physical attraction to the woman. She was beautiful, beyond doubt, but she was also highly intelligent – which, to Helena's mind, was the far more attractive quality. Clearly she was well-read, and she seemed genuinely interested in science. She also had no trouble defending her beliefs with true passion. What was there not to like? Helena smiled again as she thought of Emma's behavior earlier in the day. She could still see the innocent blue-eyes trying to defend her love of licorice.
"The tin!" She exclaimed aloud to no one. She thought briefly about retrieving the candy and debated whether or not she could catch up to her. Ultimately, she decided against it. Chasing after her would be pointless, not to mention a little too obvious. More importantly, it was almost certain she would be unable to overtake Myka's swift-moving carriage with the weather being what it was. Besides, she smiled to herself, it will give me an excuse to have her back at the house. She pondered at the thought and then sighed running her hands through her sopping hair. Helena, what are you doing? Are you really trying to seduce the poor woman? God, why does she have to be so infuriatingly adorable with such endearing mannerisms mixed with all that fiery passion? The combination of innocence and charm was inexplicably unsettling, and Helena found herself drawn to it beyond all reason. She just wanted to take Emma in her arms sometimes and shield her from all the world, keeping her safe and making sure she never lost even an ounce of the purity she saw in her eyes. Well, perhaps she's not all that pure, she thought with a laugh. Maybe I should have employed a bit of propriety earlier this evening. Although she had not intended it when it happened, that she was able to cause Emma uncomfortably libidinous thoughts seemed more than evident. She recalled Emma's face when she stepped from behind the dressing panel. Libidinous indeed, she mused. It was not the first time she had noted Emma's tendency toward clearly indiscreet thoughts, and she could have easily done a better job of ignoring the last one if she had really wanted to. But seeing her flush so much… I loved it, didn't I? Yes. I did, she answered herself. In and of itself, just knowing she could get to Emma like that felt like a drug and she could not help wondering what next steps there might be as she continued to chase the dragon.
She arrived at her doorstep not remembering the walk so lost in thought had she been the entire way home. She looked down at her sodden clothes and laughed. She was completely saturated from head to toe. She stepped through the door muttering to herself, "Oh, Emma, what am I going to do about you?" If anyone had been standing outside a few minutes later they would have heard her using distinctly colorful language as she chased her brother's cat up the stairs.