This chapter and the previous (Chapters Four and Five) follow the events of Amelia and The Bareback Rider.
Cooper and the Temporal Nexus
Chapter Five
"I shouldn't have told her," Cooper said more to himself than to anyone else, watching the barn from the window in the cabin, the thunderous look in Amelia's eyes floating in front of his face. It would only makes things worse, he suspected, to have his young wife go and try to defend his honor to her father. He should be defending his own honor, and Edward would only think less of him for not doing so.
Amelia's mother chuckled over the stove. "I have learned it is very difficult to tell Amelia much of anything. That girl has always plotted her own course. She would fly if she could."
Cooper smiled in spite of his concern, remembering Amelia's unbridled excitement looking out the airplane window on their flight to Texas in February. But he could not reply as David approached the cabin and entered, stirring up noise. Sighing, Cooper sat back down in his adopted spot and waited for Amelia. Perhaps it was for the best. He did not want his wife's heart broken, of course, but maybe it would help her decide to leave on her own, without Cooper having to ask her to do so. Or it could be the opposite: her father could tell her how weak and ineffectual her husband was and her eyes would be opened to the error she had made five months ago, and she'd tell Cooper to leave without her . . .
Shivering at the thought, even in the heat of the cabin, Cooper stood sharply when he heard the door open again, not realizing how long Amelia had been gone.
But it was not just Amelia that entered. Her father followed, and Cooper's chest tightened at the sight of the man's sure strides directly over to him. He spotted Amelia behind her father, and her obviously red eyes indicated she'd been crying. He wanted to rush to her side, to pull her away from whatever it was that had upset her, but there wasn't time as her father was now upon him.
Edward put out his hand and said, "Cooper. I owe you an apology. I've behaved terribly. My daughter is lucky to have you, and you bring her all the happiness she deserves."
Looking down, Cooper started to put out his own bandaged right hand, just as Amelia's mother said sharply, "Ed, his hands."
"No." Cooper put up his left hand to silence her. "It's fine."
Taking the other man's palm firmly, clenching his jaw to keep from wincing at the discomfort, Cooper returned his firm handshake with equal determination. Then they nodded to each other, and Edward turned to get the cup of cool water his wife had tried to hand him when he'd entered.
Then his Amelia was there, and he could tell from her soft smile that they were only happy tears now. She ran her hand through his dirty hair and whispered, "Do you need new bandages?"
"No, thank you." He smiled at her and felt himself relaxing, that knot that had tightened up in his stomach again starting to loosen. "I wish we could be alone," he whispered back, softer.
She nodded. "Me, too."
"I really wish I could take a bath."
A huge grin this time. "Me, too."
While still hot, hotter than Cooper liked, at least there was a breeze the next day and overnight the plants and grass had perked up and become a brighter shade of green in the downpour. It stormed all night, loud cracks of thunder and lightening; or so he had been told. For the first time since returning here, Cooper had sleep soundly, his arm wrapped around Amelia.
Over breakfast - an actual breakfast in the cabin, which only confirmed his suspicions about the previous mornings - Edward asked Cooper about the windmill, and Cooper excitedly told him everything he'd learned and memorized just for this opportunity.
"I presume it needs to be on a rise somewhere, to catch the most wind?" Edward asked, leaning back from his plate.
"Yes. Unfortunately, I do not think you can put it by the cabin to power your well," Cooper agreed.
"I think I know just the spot. It would be good for the thrashing machine, too. Would you like to come out with me, help me scout locations?"
Cooper smiled. "It would be my pleasure."
Surprised but oddly relieved that David had been given the day off, Cooper followed behind Edward as they toured his acres of farmland. It was still awkward and stilted with Amelia's father; Cooper did not know him well, and he did not fall into easy conversation with strangers under the best of circumstances, but Edward seemed content to walk in silence and talk to him about the windmill when they stopped to look out over one plain or another. Cooper hoped his fear of some sort of embarrassing father-in-law speech was not going to come to fruition.
They stood at one corner of a field, and Edward leaned down to inspect the short stalks of wheat as he had been doing at each field they had come to. "The rain last night was sorely needed," he said. "What crops are there in Los Angles?"
"None in the city proper. But north of the city mostly strawberries and avocados," Cooper explained.
"Avocados?" Edward asked, standing and pulling the shaft of wheat with him.
"A green tree fruit with a creamy sort of texture."
"Never heard of them." Edward shook his head. "Strawberries, though, I've tried to grow them here a couple of times. Never had any luck. Too hot and dry, I think. Does Amelia like them?"
"Oh, yes. We always have some kind of fruit at breakfast."
"And avocados?"
"No. Well, yes, Amelia loves them but she's -" he caught himself "- they make her sick." Cooper shuddered at the memory.
Leo had make a big bowl of his famous guacamole, and Amelia devoured it during a movie they are all watching, raving about the taste. Until she said, "That's strange. I think this is making my throat itch. Is that normal?" By the time they'd gotten to the emergency room, she had hives all over her face and her breath was shallow. It still pained Cooper to imagine how close he'd been to losing her.
"Did you and David plow and sow and work all these acres by yourself?" Cooper asked, pushing the fear that still lingered out of his mind.
"Yes," Edward said, looking over the land.
"That's a lot of work for two people." His body aching and his hands still blistered and painful, Cooper now understood exactly how difficult that would have been.
"It is." Edward nodded. "But that's what the long days of summer were made for. And we all work together here at harvest time. I can often arrange some help if needed at other times, too. Earl Johnson has ten sons -" Cooper's eyebrows went up "- and I can usually arrange for a day or two's work from some of them, if needed." Edward smiled. "Frank was awful sweet on Amelia. A promise of lunch by her side was usually enough for him. Until she got engaged to John, of course." He paused with a sharp breath. "I hope I did not speak out of turn."
"I knew," Cooper said in a rush. "There are no secrets between Amelia and me."
Edward nodded. "It pleases me to hear that. That is as it should be."
Unsure what to say, Cooper just nodded back. Of course there are no secrets between them. Amelia knew his greatest secret and he knew hers. And neither were what her father thought they were.
"Cooper?"
"Sir? Ed?" He had become so accustomed to his defiant yes-sirs and no-sirs that he found it hard to call his father-in-law Ed now. But the older man didn't seem to notice.
Edward turned and looked away, toying with the shaft of wheat in his hand. "You've made my daughter very happy." He paused. Suddenly, it occurred to Cooper that Edward was not as old as he had imagined him all along. In reality, Cooper was probably closer to his father-in-law's age than his wife's; he was probably, what?, in his mid-forties at the most.
"I've tried. She's made me very happy in return," Cooper said.
"Amelia - I do not think she would lie to me." He frowned and paused.
Cooper felt his stomach lurch. 'Here it comes,' he thought, 'the conversation I've been dreading.' All this hand shaking and talk of crops and the windmill were just place holders until Amelia's father could rail against him for stealing his daughter away. Standing up straighter, Cooper knew he had no choice but to take it. And, after the days of silence, it would be a relief.
"She tells me you were married before . . . before you knew her."
"That's correct, sir. I promise you. I realize you only have my word, but it's the truth." This still managed to make Cooper blush and feel like a hypocrite, remembering all that happened between them in the log cabin, how a single word or movement would have made a liar out of him.
Nodding sharply, Edward looked back at him. "Then that is good enough for me. There's something you need to know. About Amelia's mother. I'm not a doctor or a smart professor man like you, but there's something wrong with her mother. There have been other . . . babes. But they did not live."
His eyebrows raised at the strange turn in conversation, Cooper started to reply, "The rate of infant mortality -"
"No, they weren't infants. They -" Cooper watched him struggle. "They were never alive, you see. Some weren't even . . . formed yet, they came so early. There's something wrong with Amelia's mother, I think, with her womb. I worry about Amelia."
"I understand," Cooper said softly, although he did not entirely understand. He was at a loss for words. There are so many things he could say, and yet so many things he couldn't say. Maybe the fault wasn't Amelia's mother at all, although fault was the wrong word, he knew. Probably Amelia hadn't inherited anything, it was just the lack of proper medical care at this time. Obviously, with modern medical practices, Amelia would have a much better chance of carrying an infant to term. In five years, when they decided to start having children. Cooper couldn't tell him that either.
"Please don't hurt Amelia," Edward said, staring at him pointedly.
"Sir, I would never dream of doing anything to hurt her."
Edward shook his head. "I'm not expressing myself properly. Perhaps it is a sin to even discuss this but . . . what I'm saying is, you might have to make a decision, some day, for her, to stop hurting her. And nothing hurts a woman like an empty cradle. I can't tell you what to do, it's your right as her husband, but . . . please, don't take it if it's only going to hurt her."
Amelia's father turned and walked away sharply. Cooper watched his back and took deep breath. Did Amelia know? No, of course not, there is no way she would have known for it was inconceivable for it to have been discussed. Even in the 21st-century, parents would not discuss that with their children. How long? After David, of course, but how much - Cooper shook his head. No, it had cost Amelia's father a lot of pride to tell him that, and he would not take more by speculating. Or by telling Amelia. He'd just insist on a full round of testing before they tried to conceive. He would just tell her that's how it was done in the future.
Cooper waited until Edward was a good thirty yards in front of him to run and catch up, and then he only asked about the windmill.
She caught her freed hair in her hand and pulled it over her shoulder, leaving the long line of her naked backside exposed to him. Her actions seemed in slow motion as she turned, her face peeking over her shoulder, just beyond that hair, and Cooper swore she fluttered her eyelashes. "Are you sure you won't join me? I brought soap, too. It's in the saddle bag. You know you've been desperate for a bath . . ."
His wonderful, beautiful Amelia. She wasn't going to ask him to leave her behind. She never wanted to leave his side; she only wanted more adventures with him. Of course she would have an idea about time travel from a book. It should have seemed silly and absurd, but there was something about that stuck to the roof of Cooper's brain. Was it fantasy or was it actual retrocausality? He knew that he must find out, just as he knew he only wanted to do so with Amelia at his side.
Amelia. She stood on the edge of the swimming hole, her flawless pale skin glowing in the sunlight. She looked like a water goddess, a sea siren pulling him. So young, so vibrant, so full of vitality, the picture of health. Cooper pushed away what her father has told him. No. There would be ways around that in the future. He would call upon all of science for her, even if it involved him screaming at the heavens like Dr. Frankenstein. His Amelia was only the bringer of life. Look at the life she brought him.
A water nymph! That's it!
He stood abruptly and reached for the buttons on his pants.
"So, that's a yes?" Amelia asked.
"Don't act surprised. You pretend to be all innocent, batting your eyelashes, but you know you look like a sexy water nymph standing there naked, looking at me like that," he said, bending down to untie his shoes. "And you know I can't resist bathing with you."
The water was cold and the rocks on the bottom of the stream hurt the soles of his feet, but Cooper dove in to the water with pleasure. It felt so good to be submerged, to be given the opportunity to be clean once more! He had tried, once every day, to go out to the well when no one was around and strip down the baggy cotton knee-length shorts that served as underwear here. It was nothing more than a futile attempt, some crude variation of a sponge bath, but it was better than nothing. An actual bath, in the tub he had fond memories of, was never offered. Not that he was sure if he could take it; where would everyone go? He would have no privacy. There had only been once that he'd ever allowed some one other than his mother or grandmother to see him in the bath - even then he'd been a very young boy - and look what that got him. He smiled. Everything.
Amelia swam up to him and put her hand out for the cake of soap he was clutching. "Shall I wash your hair? And then you can wash mine?"
He smiled wider and passed over the soap. Amelia's fingers scrubbed his scalp, and he winced slightly when they passed over the line of sunburn from his part. But it felt so wonderful, the dirt and the germs being washed away by the water, the tension and fear washed away by his wife.
"New rule," he said, after he ducked to rinse the soap out and turned to start scrubbing Amelia's longer hair, "we only stay at places with indoor plumbing when we travel."
Chuckling, Amelia said. "But what about Ancient Greece? I'd love to go there."
"I thought you read the Iliad," Cooper replied. "Not indoor plumbing per se, but at least regular bathing was an important part of their culture."
"Public bathing," Amelia corrected him. "You just told me you hated that."
Behind her, Cooper smiled, "Well, I'm out here naked in an open field, aren't I? The things I do for you. Now dunk."
Amelia dove into the water and came up a couple of feet away from him. When she returned, he said, "Really, Ancient Greece next? I thought we just decided on Victorian England to meet and inspire H. G. Wells."
"It doesn't have to be next, just someday. There are a thousand places I want to see. Like early 1960's Rome - I can't wait to ride a Vespa with you!" Cooper's eyebrows went up. He would have said there was no way he was going to ride a Vespa, but he knew that would only encourage Amelia to try harder. "And Renaissance Venice. And Prohibition New York City. Shanghai between the wars! We could travel to Egypt with Agatha Christie. Oh! Edwardian England!"
He couldn't help but grin at her large, excited eyes and her dreamy smile. "You've given this a lot thought, I see."
"Yes." She nodded seriously. "It's all out there, waiting for us, don't you see? All of time, spread out before us like the night sky, each moment a glittering star and we just have to gather them up."
"How . . ." - Cooper searched for the correct term - ". . . poetic."
In a sudden movement, Amelia reached out for the soap and started to wash her torso. "I've been . . . writing a little bit," she mumbled.
"Writing?" Cooper asked, his eyebrows going up even higher. He didn't know that.
"Just a few phrases or ideas so far. But I've been seriously contemplating writing down our adventures as a series of stories."
"Fantasy, I presume. No one would ever believe it's true," Cooper snorted. When she didn't reply or look up from her washing, Cooper bit his lip. "I'm sorry, Amelia, that came out wrong. I did not mean to disparage your idea. I think if you want to write, you should. It's just that it's all so . . . fantastical. That's what I meant."
"I think you meant fantastic." Then she looked up at him with a grin. "And don't you forget it." She startled him by splashing him with a large crash of water and laughing at his stunned face. This woman!
Later, after they'd made love and were stretched out on the quilt to enjoy the breeze, Cooper told her that he wanted to stop in Los Angles when they arrived, just long enough to buy a phonograph for her mother and a copy of Moby Dick for her father. "Then we'll go discover if my cloaking device really works."
"I'm sure it will," Amelia said. "I'm not concerned."
He was not surprised by the surety in her voice. Amelia ran on boundless optimism and that extended to his endeavors. Yes, sometimes that optimism seemed more like oblivious naïveté, like it had with this trip, but he would not have stolen it from her for the universe. Her belief in him was intoxicating, and he found himself striving ever harder to live up to her expectations. His work had never been better, even his public work at Caltech.
"So, tell me more about all these plans of yours. Where do you want to go again and why?" he asked drowsily, pulling her in closer so her head was on his chest.
He listened to her reasons, content to let her do almost all of the talking, alternately smiling at her enthusiasm or raising his eyebrows at another crazy idea she had. Their future exploits seemed so real the way she described them, and he found himself getting caught up in all her ideas. Yes, they would do all that and more together. Why did he think, even for a second, that she could have ever been happy and fulfilled here? She was genuinely committed to the unconventional life he had offered her, a life outside of reality, a life of temporal streams and adventures. He was just as committed to her, to her determination and optimism and force of will. He was the scientist officer and she was the captain, both indispensable for successful missions, companions and compliments. A life of true partnership.
Amelia was a Kansas tornado transplanted into his life, sending his clocks spinning, and Cooper loved being caught in her whirlwind, wherever it may lead them.
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