Part Two: November 5
1900—Eastbound Train to Boston
Brian stood up, despite the unstable ground below him, and turned towards the voice. The little girls giggled mischievously and hid behind his trench coat as the woman clearly called their names. Brian moved to the door, and before he could open it, she was standing there in the glass.
"Katie?" Brian whispered disbelievingly. Katie stopped, paralyzed as she looked into Brian's eyes. Her hair was darker, coppery like her mother's and free-flowing down her back. She was older, but her features were sharper, wilder, and she had only become so much more herself. The only change that marred her beauty was a deep, aged scar across her right eyebrow.
A wash of emotions flashed over her face, and at the same time, she and Brian reached for the door handle, both attempting to reach each other. Finally Brian let go, and Katie burst inside the room, her arms circling his neck immediately. Brian inhaled her, his heart swelling as he buried his face in her hair. He could smell the lavender immediately, and for a split second, it was like holding Abby again.
The little girls stepped back from them and sat on the seats wide eyed and watched the scene at hand. Katie pulled back, staring urgently into Brian's eyes. "Brian, it is so… I cannot believe I am looking at you! How is my family? Abby? Your little girl? You must have a dozen children by now—"
Brian cleared his throat, pushing back from her awkwardly even as he kept a hold of her hand. He eyed the absorbed little girls, and then looked back at Katie. Urgent anger entered his voice despite his best efforts, "Uh…Where have ya been, Katie? Why didn't ya come back? Your family really needed ya. Especially your ma."
"Not in front of my girls, all right?" Katie whispered, a shadow falling over her face, before she turned to Kayla and Gail who sat quietly and confused side by side on the seat. She bent down in front of them and put a hand on both of their knees as she gave them quiet instructions. Brian stepped back and really observed the two girls—one was a little older than the other, but they both had the same golden hair, deep olive complexions, and piercing dark eyes. They were indeed her daughters. But seeing them and seeing her face, he could only imagine what kept her away all these years.
"Ok Mommy," Gail stood up, taking her little sister's hand. Her eyes stayed fast on Brian's as she left the compartment, and Brian swore the child knew what he had to tell her mother already.
Katie waited until the girls made their way down the corridor until she began to speak. She wrung her hands together, pacing the length of the compartment until she was face to face with him. "The girls know very little about my life before. I try to keep them moving in the present as best I can."
"Katie… What happened to you?" Katie began pacing again, laughing nervously.
"It is strange being with you. No one has called that in years. People call me Katherine usually."
Brian stood still, watching her nervous movements. "Your family believes you are dead, Katie. Why didn't ya send word?"
Katie exhaled, her blue eyes flashing regret, anger, and sorrow. "I wanted to, but it was impossible after I left Joel."
Brian's mouth dropped, shocked and disgusted. "Ya mean Major Elliot? He told me himself that ya were dead! He brought Sully your bloody clothes—"
Katie stopped moving, her right leg shaking as her head dropped guiltily. "I know."
Brian put his hands on her shoulders. "Katie…"
"I should have died when I jumped. I wanted to when I believed that No Harm had left me. But something stopped me… I don't know. I heard Abby's voice calling me, telling me I had to come home to her, so I fought against the currents and swam to the shore. But when I woke up, I was in the Major's tent. It was night. And my clothes…" Her voice broke, and she was unable to continue.
Brian pulled Katie into his arms protectively, his jaw tightening. "Did he hurt ya? Did he?"
Katie pulled back, shaking her head bravely. "He never hurt me physically. Not after the first time he beat me in the homestead. But… we're married, Brian."
Brian stepped back, and hit the side of the cabin with his fist. "What? Katie… Damn it! I should have stayed and looked for ya. I'm so sorry."
"No... I'm all right. Do not feel guilty. It was not your fight. Besides, my sister needed you. How is she?" Brian looked down and took both of Katie's hands in his. She looked into his eyes for a split second, and as soon as she saw the sadness there, she pulled her hands away and began pacing the room again. "I figured you would be successful. Always working. I bet Abby hates it too. Did you leave her at home with the kids? Is that where she is?"
"Katie… Abby's not at home." Katie laughed stiffly, pulling her hands around her waist as she avoided Brian's touch, even as he tried to reach her.
"Did she leave you? Were you making eyes at that another woman again? Is that what happened? Because if you did—" Katie glared at Brian as he stepped closer, cornering her, as he couldn't look at her anymore.
"Ya know she's the only woman I've ever loved," Brian touched the side of her face, and Katie winced as he drew her closer to him.
"No…" She shook her head fiercely as he held her face immobile. "I do not believe you."
"Katie, that night…" She pushed at his chest, trying to block out his words.
"NO!" She gripped the sides of his face and stared into his lonely blue eyes. "Do you hear me? I said no!"
"She died, Katie," Brian said with heavy grief, forcing her to listen. "I'm sorry—"
"NO!" Katie screamed out, the truth that had been swimming in her blood finally pouring out of her soul and body without repression. Brian held her close and sat back down on the seat until she slid to the ground beside him, her tears shattering him and herself, as she asked him what happened, to not leave out a word, not a single word, to not spare her any guilt or pain, and then he told her everything as he remembered it.
When they got to now, they didn't notice the eyes of two little girls that had returned to the door, watching them. They were lost in the story, the memories, trying to find a way to hold on to their loves in the past.
"Come with me to Boston," Brian whispered. "Your mother needs you so much."
"I have stayed away to protect my family. If Joel finds us… Brian, you do not know what I have done. You do not know what he will do."
"I'll protect you. Michaela needs you, Katie. Maybe if she saw you, something might happen. She might remember."
Katie sighed, feeling the presence of her little girls. She held out her hand for them, and they both came inside. She turned back to Brian. "All right… We will come."
Brian smiled. "Good."
November 6, 1900—Boston
Michaela looked into his eyes as he said his name—Sully. It was a name. Just a simple name that meant nothing to her, yet when she looked in this man's face, she knew she was more loved than any woman could ever hope for, yet she could feel him slipping away even still. He had been her lover for nearly ten years, except last night when he had grown morose over the course of the day, and nothing she could do or say could cheer him up.
They had been sitting in the parlor the day before, and she had been working through some of the old beads Sully had brought with them from Colorado. Even though she wasn't very skilled, they were relaxing to her, except for today. She had become particularly agitated. Her entire body didn't want to function, and she had sighed in frustration, staring at Sully as she had given up, "I have no patience for this!"
Sully's head had flown up from his papers, and he had dropped his pin suddenly. "What?"
She had held up the half-finished piece of craft. "This medicine wheel. My hands don't seem to be cooperating today."
Sully had smiled sadly, his eyes somewhere else as he had whispered, "If Katie was here, she'd help ya. Like she always did for—" And then Michaela had watched Sully stop, as his face lost all color, and he had stood up from his desk and walked to the window, staring out at the late fall day.
Then he had asked her solemnly, "What's today?"
She had stood up and walked behind him, but didn't dare touch him as fear he might run away. "It's November 5th."
"It's not a good day for makin' things," he had said, his voice low and emotional. "I'm gonna go take a walk in the park."
She had tried to take his hand. "I'll go with you—"
"No sweetheart. I need to be alone." And he had left their house quietly, just as he had returned. She had waited for him, but he had never come to her. And as she looked at him now, she could still see them same weight and sadness from the day before.
"No Sully…" she said, pushing the chair back behind her and falling to her knees in front of him. "I need to know everything about us. I don't care if it hurts. I don't care if it kills me. I can't keep losing you a little bit every day like this. That's killing me, Sully."
Sully shook his head. "Ya don't even know why you're with me."
"No. Do you know why you're still with me? I must be as strange to you as you are to me, but there's still this… need. I know you're not just anyone to me." She placed her forehead against his heart, hearing every single beat. "Tell me. And if it's too much, you can stop. But we can't live like this anymore, Sully."
"All right." Sully slid his hands down her back, acquiescing. "All right. But not here. Not here. I want to take ya somewhere."
1900—The Beach
2
She took his hand, calloused with aged, but gentle and tender, as he led her down the strange path. They were going to see the ocean today, he said. The cold wind blew off the sound and as Michaela's feet hit the gravely sand, she felt Sully's protective arms wrap around her waist.
She looked out to the flapping ocean waves, crashing as they hit the shore. A jagged rock settled amongst the waves, and they danced around it like laughing children. She closed her eyes and listened to the water meeting rock like cymbals crashing. Then as if a music box had been opened, a girl's clear laughter echoed on the beach, and her eyes flew open.
Sully's hands tightened around hers as he felt her tense, and he asked, "What is it, sweetheart?"
She peered into the distance, looking at the clear horizon with nothing in sight. She shook her head as she loosened her grip on his hands. "It's nothing. I could have sworn though… It's nothing."
Silence fell between them, and Sully took a deep breath.
"I…I was born out there," Michaela turned in his arms, nodding gratefully as he finally told her something about himself.
"Thank you," she whispered, "Thank you."
He took her hand, walking over a few paces. "I told ya this once before… right here."
"And what did I say?"
Sully squint his eyes as he tried to remember that cold January night. "You said something about how comin' back now was good for me even though the ocean made me restless. And I disagreed. I said it was you that made the difference."
"Did we often disagree?"
"Sometimes. We had a hard, hard time gettin' married." Michaela's face suddenly lit up.
"So we are married? How long?" She grabbed his hand playfully and Sully laughed, never realizing that some of this actually might be enjoyable.
"Depends." Sully looked down at their joined hands. "Soul-ly or legally?"
"What?" Michaela furrowed her brow.
"We were married by the Cheyenne Chief Black Kettle in 1863. Then we had a traditional wedding ceremony 10 years later." Michaela narrowed her eyes at Sully.
"So we did fight, huh?" She grinned ever so slightly.
"But we were always fightin' for each other." Michaela swallowed. She believed that, especially about him. He had never stopped, even when she had.
She turned around, facing him. "What happened next?"
"Ya took my hand and led me to a path over here."
"Can you show me?" Michaela held out her hand for him.
"Yeah." They slowly walked towards the patch of trees. Sully looked down the path, remembering the whiteness, and her cold feet and stockings. His voice was husky with memories, "I had to carry ya because the snow was so deep."
Michaela slid her hand around his waist, catching the glimmer in his eye. "Can we walk side by side this time?"
He smiled, pulling her close as they walked along the path. "I'd like that."
"Whose place is this?" She asked as they came upon the cottage. Sully pushed the door open and allowed her entry.
"It belongs to you now. But it was your grandparents' cottage." Michaela's eyes traveled over the dated but distinctly Irish decorations of the cottage. It was well-kept and cozy, with colorful wool blankets across the sofa and scattered pictures of family over every inch of the walls and furniture.
"Who—who's kept it up so well?" Michaela asked, spinning in a circle, overwhelmed by its simple beauty.
"I come here once a week. It's… it's where I keep all of our family pictures," Sully said sheepishly as he went to go light the fire. Michaela stared at him in astonishment and shook her head. She began to walk the room, staring at each and every picture, too many to even take in. She stopped when she came up what was clearly their second wedding picture. She stared at her face, nearly thirty years ago, and his face, equally as young.
"My God, you were handsome," she muttered under her breath.
Sully pushed up off the ground, using the mantle for support as he put obvious strain on his back. "What's wrong with me now?"
"Nothing. You just look like me, that's all." Sully smiled and walked over to her, pushing a falling gray and copper hair back behind her ear.
"I'll look like you any day. You're beautiful." Michaela grinned and looked back at the picture, unable to stop herself from wondering what it was like when they were young.
"I have more pictures of our family if you want to see. It might be easier this way." Sully suggested, holding at his hand for her.
The words rang in her ear and scared at the same time. She looked at his open hand. "Our family?"
Sully led her over in front of the fire. He picked up a photo album and held it in front of her.
"Yeah. We have a beautiful family, Michaela." Michaela sank down on the couch, her face lost.
"I want to see them. Show me their pictures."
Sully nodded and opened the book to the second page. He sat down beside her and pointed to a laughing toddler. "This is our son. He's two years old in this picture. Ya see how he has his hands over his eyes? He used to hide from us and when he would jump out, he would yell, "Boo!" at the top of his lungs, and… and we've been—."
Michaela leaned up, looking at the happy child, the connection hitting her like a thousand bricks. "Doc Boo? That beautiful boy is…is mine?"
Michaela touched the baby picture, trying to see the man in the little boy. It all made sense now. How he cared for her, his fascination with medicine, his sadness. He loved her. He was her son.
Michaela doubled over, her stomach aching as she thought about her son. Sully picked her up. "Michaela… Are ya alright? Is this too much?"
She nodded, wiping her eyes. "Why didn't I see it? Why didn't I? He's worked so hard, ever since I've known him. He must hate me for not knowing him. Has he gotten enough love? Did you love him enough for us?"
Sully wrapped his arms around his head, fortifying her. "He knows he's loved, Michaela. He's never doubted it. Don't ya worry about that. And you've loved him. Ya did it without even knowin' sometimes. Sometimes we don't need to hear the words to feel it."
"Have you felt loved?" She asked nervously.
He kissed her temple and whispered just above her ear, "Even when we were miles apart, I felt it. I didn't get to touch ya that much when we were young. But my heart was always full of ya."
She nodded and leaned into him, "What separates us?"
Sully shook his head. "Time. Bad memories. Good memories. Guilt. Too many things we can't control."
"Tell me the good memories first," she asked, straightening her body.
Sully nodded, exhaling. He flipped the page, unsure how far he should take this, but once he saw his daughter's face, he knew Michaela needed to know her. "Well. There's two really good ones, besides Boo. Loren actually took this picture of you two. Abby was just learnin' how to walk, and ya took her out to the meadow. This is right after she fell for the first time."
"Her hair!" Michaela laughed as she ran her fingers across Abby's ringlets. "And those dark eyes… I can tell she was quite a handful. But…I don't see myself in her. I barely see you."
Sully nodded, meeting her questioning eyes. "Ya loved her like your own though. Abby was our oldest. Her mother died in childbirth."
"Oh," Michaela whispered, not daring to ask the questions she was longing to, as her palms grew sweaty touching the sweet girl's picture. Logic didn't follow. She had seen Boo practically everyday she could remember. Where was their daughter?
But her questions seized as Sully flipped the page, and her throat nearly garroted itself as she stared at the photograph of the girl, around ten or eleven years old, curled in her lap, asleep. Sully whispered, "Katie was too big, but you didn't care. Neither did she. She missed ya a lot when she was growing up, so you two would go out on the porch at night sometimes, just before Stephen was born and when Abby started runnin' around with her friends, and you would sing our Kates to sleep."
Michaela stared at how she clung to the girl, how close and loving they seemed. What did such intimacy with a child feel like? "She's beautiful. I wish—"
"What?" Sully asked, unfettered hope appearing in his eyes.
"I wish I knew her now. Because when I look at this picture, I… I… just don't feel anything." Sully stood up, his jaw setting.
"Maybe this was a bad idea." He closed the picture album and began to pace around the room.
"What? No Sully, I—"
"No, Michaela. I've been worried all these years that you'd breakdown if I told you about the children, about our lives. But what I never thought about is how I'd feel if you didn't react at all. If ya still felt the same way after that you've been feelin' since I lost ya! Ya loved those kids more than your own life, Michaela! Don't ya understand that? Can't ya feel that inside of yourself?"
Michaela stood up and walked to the other end of the couch. "I'm sorry, Sully! If I could be everything you wanted right now, I would, but I can't! I can't! I just know that you're leaving me and there's nothing I can do to stop you!"
Sully, not understanding her fear, screamed, "I'm right here, sweetheart!"
"Stop calling me sweetheart!" Suddenly, she grabbed a framed picture of herself as a child, dancing freely on the beach, and flung it across the room, smashing the frame on the mantle. The picture floated down, down, down, in front of the fire, and suddenly, Michaela saw the girl before she went up in flames.
"Oh my God," she whispered.
1840—The Beach
She ran out on the beach, hearing the seagull's call and the roar of the waves against her rock. Michaela ran to meet the tide, letting the foam circle around her ankles like a pair of socks . She squealed as the chilly water tickled her feet, and she jumped up and down, singing a made up song as she danced down the shoreline.
"Mike!" Josef called from the tree line. Michaela turned around, her dress half-soaked, but a bright, uncaring smile lighting her face.
"Yes, father!" The girl answered cheerfully.
"Come in soon, sweetheart! The sky doesn't look like it's going to hold!"
Just a few more minutes, please!" Michaela begged.
"Alright! Just a few more minutes." Elizabeth joined him, lacing her arm through Josef's.
"Please tell me you got a picture of her this afternoon! She's positively angelic!"
Josef laughed and patted Elizabeth's hand. "Don't worry. I managed to get one a few minutes ago when she wasn't looking." He pointed to the camera standing at the base of the trees.
"All right. Why don't you pack up while she finishes. Martha almost has supper ready."
Michaela splashed amongst the waves, running and falling as she twirled in the water. Suddenly, beyond their sound, a grand sailboat glided by, southward bound.
"Look, father!" Michaela cried, point to the majestic boat, the vessel mounting far grander in the child's eyes than her father's.
"I see, Mike! I see!" He laughed as he put away the camera.
"Hello!" Michaela yelled out to the sailboat, jumping up and down, trying to get its attention. "Hello!"
She got no response, but natural persistence kicked in and she began chasing it down the beach line, waving at the bright white sails. Suddenly a young boy's head popped over the mast and he waved back, "Hey!"
Michaela laughed and kept running, tripping over her soggy wet feet as she tried to catch up to the swiftly moving sailboat. Josef looked up and realized that she was no longer in his periphery. He put down the camera and walked down to the shoreline. "Mike!" he called out as he caught her tiny figure in the distance. "Mike, come back here!"
"Come sailin' with us!" the boy cried out, his eyes sparking and brilliant, as he leaned over the mast, reaching out for her as if he could touch her.
She giggled, reaching out herself, as her cheeks flushed from heat and something else. "Okay!" she said heedlessly. "You have to slow down and wait for me though!"
The boy looked down, joy and reckless excitement in his voice, "Hey Daniel! Tell the Captain to slow down! We're gonna go sailin' with the prettiest girl I ever seen!"
A smile spread across her face as she ran faster, and she was so close to him, she could feel the zephyrs and sprays and the turns of the boat already. The boy was smiling at her like she was the only girl in the world, not looking ahead, not looking behind, and she found herself caught high in his eyes, forgetting about the ground and the path she was running.
It was blinding but clear at the same time. If her arm could stretch distances, he would have pulled her up and she would have left her family and past behind. If he could fly, he would have jumped, from the heights of the mast down to where she ran, leaving the ship and sails to go on without him.
But the Captain was not a believer in childhood whims. The boat did not slow down even as Michaela stumbled over her feet to catch up to it. "Wait!" she called out, "Don't leave me!"
"Stop!" The boy cried out again, as she fell behind the boat, "Stop! We're losin' her!"
A rough wind fell came up above the stern, and the Captain screamed, "Get down from there, Byron! You're gonna get your head blown off!"
"I gotta see her! We gotta stop, Captain!" Just as he pushed up as tall as he could, the zephyr knocked him over the mast and he fell down to the bottom of the hull.
"No!" Michaela yelled as she began to run out to the water, but the boat kept sailing on, and she didn't see any sign of the boy anymore, no movement, nothing, only the Captain's screams to get up, get up now! This is no time for foolin' around, you dreamer! But there was still no sound from the boy as she swam out to the icy water even as the sailboat drifted further and further away from sight, out of reach, and suddenly, she was alone in the cold Atlantic water, much farther than she had intended to go, and she could hear her father's voice screaming from the shore, Mike, Mike! Where are you, Mike? But she still saw the bright smile of the boy, that beautiful boy as he held out his hand and offered her happiness, even as her limbs grew cold and tired, she could still seem him, even as water filled her lungs she imagined them sailing along the shore together, but then there was cold blackness and nothing else.
"Mike!" Michaela inhaled a deep breath of air as he cradled her in his arms on the beach, shaking as his daughter finally breathed again. "Oh thank God! Oh my sweet girl!"
He hugged her tightly as both of their soaked bodies sought warmth. "What… what in the world… What in the world were you doing out that far?"
Michaela opened her eyes, finding her reflection in her father's, searching for the answer there, discovering the only one she could find, "I…I don't know, father."
1900—The Beach
"You were the boy," Michaela whispered as the last trace of her girlhood disintegrated into cinders. "He wouldn't stop. The Captain wouldn't stop for you. You asked me to go sailing—"
Sully frowned, not following her. "Michaela?"
She walked towards the fire, watching the broken glass and cinders. "We must have been about seven or eight. We were so young. And we didn't care about anything. You were so high—on top of the sails."
Sully followed her, placing his hands on her shoulders. "Michaela, Michaela… Stop… I told ya. I don't like the ocean. It makes me nervous and restless. I haven't been out there since I was young, after my accident."
She turned her head. A tear fell down her cheek. "You fell."
Sully froze, confused by her memories. "How'd ya know?"
"I saw you." She touched the side of his face, so much older. She looked into his eyes. They had hardly seen anything then. "I saw you. I tried to go to you, but the water was too cold."
Sully stiffened, uncomfortable as she overwhelmed him. "Michaela… That's—"
"I knew you," she laughed, not hearing, "I knew you all along."
"But do you know me now?" He asked, desperate to find a connection they both remembered. Her eyes searched his, just like he had always searched hers.
"You don't remember, do you?" She asked. Sully shook his head, regretfully. "It's ok. We made no promises. We were just children on a whim."
They stood polar opposite, yet they were so close. "Michaela…"
"Shh… We don't need anymore guilt now." She buried her face in his neck, inhaling his scent, inhaling him. Suddenly, she was no longer running. She stopped and pulled back, remembering her earlier words, "You never called me sweetheart. Only Dr. Mike or Michaela."
Sully didn't say a word. He simply watched her as she backed up from him and walked around the room. She leaned against the sofa, feeling the fabric underneath on her flesh. The fire crackled and sent sparks into his eyes. "You unhooked my stockings on this couch. And we made love on that floor."
Sully nodded once, watching her as she went back to pictures on the wall, stopping in front of a picture of Katie. "She had a stutter because…because… Oh God—I had to leave her when she was a baby. She only knew the Cheyenne, and she was so alone."
Then she stopped in front of a picture of Abagail and Stephen. "He was the only one. He was the only one with her—"
Like a flood, it all came back to her, and she felt the magnitude of her denial in full force. She couldn't breath, and the weight of it all returned to her as if it had all just happened, and she ran out of the cottage without looking back.
Sully chased her down the path, his heart beating rapidly as his body tried to keep up with his will. She burst through the tree line and ran down the shore as she tried to get away from the pain, but Sully was still faster than her, and he reached out, grabbing her hand, stopping her before she reached the water. "Stop running! You have to stop!"
"It hurts too much, Sully!" She hit his chest as hard as she could, pushing away from him.
"It won't bring them back, Michaela. It won't bring them back! You have to stop and just stand with me!" Michaela wavered on her feet as he held her shoulders, and finally she collapsed around his feet.
"Why didn't you stop for me?" She cried, "Why couldn't you have stopped?"
Sully slid down beside her, searching his memory, still only recalling muted warnings from the Captain, he whispered, "If I knew what I know now, I would have jumped off that boat and swam straight to ya."
"Would you trade this life for that one?" She whispered, curling into his body as the tides circled them.
"No." Sully held her, staring out at the night sky. "Every moment's been precious to me in this one. I couldn't love ya love more."
Her hand found his way to his heart. "I love you. You know that?"
He covered it with his own. "Yeah. I know you."