Chapter 7

Daylight had lost to another evening, and the southern breeze blowing through the open windows of the old Virginia house was a much needed respite from the blistering summer heat.

Earlier that morning, Thomas pulled the string on the single bulb hanging in the center of the attic ceiling. It didn't illuminate much, but it was a bright day and the sunlight trickled in from the eaves on each end of the house, casting light on the dust motes his feet had stirred up.

He had decided to start at the top of the house and work his way down, having no idea what mementos and clutter had been stored in the attic over the years, but he suspected it would be full to overflowing, much like the rest of the house.

Taking his first look around, his suspicions were confirmed. One end of the attic housed furniture jumbled together. It was dark under the low ceiling, but he could make out the shape of a few small chairs, a baby bassinet, and a sideboard table that used to sit in the dining room along one wall.

Bags and boxes littered the rest of the attic, along with a few broken suitcases, a stationary bicycle missing both its pedals, and an artificial Christmas tree that bore a striking resemblance to none other than that of Charlie Brown's.

Now at the end of the day, Thomas was out of breath from carrying too large a load of boxes with the phone sandwiched between his shoulder and his ear.

"October? That far out, huh?" He sighed, sitting on an ancient couch in the living room, closing his eyes as he rested his head back.

This particular couch was one of the few that had escaped the fatal trip to Goodwill. Most had either been covered with unidentifiable stains, stunk to high heaven, or the cushions were torn or flattened.

"No, sir! No need to apologize. I'm glad you have the business! It says a lot about your reputation. I'm sure it will take me that long to clear everything out, anyhow." He exhaled as he looked around the living room, exhausted just thinking about how much work lay ahead of him.

"Yes, sir! I appreciate it, and look forward to meeting with you soon to discuss the plans."

"You too, sir. Have a good evening."

Thomas sat in silence after hanging up the phone. Every muscle in his body ached, and he knew the longer he sat the more stiff he'd become.

He looked down at the heap of cardboard boxes laying next to his feet and leaned forward, grabbing the Victorian style picture frame that rested on top.

Louise had been the only thing on Thomas's mind all day, and their conversation last night had sparked something within him. She was a mystery, and one he eagerly wanted to know more about.

As he was cleaning out the attic, Thomas was searching for anything that may have connected him to Lou, Grace, or this old house, but all he managed to find was a lot of old junk, resolving to throw out more than what he kept.

Thomas held the delicate frame in his hand, wiping the thick layer of dust off with his t-shirt. One by one, faces from the past emerged, and deep within his heart, he felt like this may have been the something he was looking for.

He turned the frame over, resting it on his knees, releasing the cardboard backing. He gently grasped the delicate paper, taking it out of, what he suspected, was the only home it's ever had.

"Another picture with no names, no dates. It's a shame." He sighed with disappointment, flipping the photo over, his eyes squinting to see in the dim light.

He set the antique frame aside on an end table, leaving the couch to walk back up the stairs and into Grace's bedroom, where to his surprise, the familiar warmth of the amber light of the lamp glowed bright.

Thinking about the lamp and the exchange of letters from the night before, Thomas could feel the twinge of excitement boil inside of him, much like a child awaiting Christmas morning.

He eased himself down into the desk chair, pulling out the drawer, revealing the note he was secretly hoping would be in there.

"Thomas? You there?" Louise's words came across as timid even in their written form, and Thomas was hoping she was still around so they could once again converse.

"Glad to see that I didn't scare you off last night! I imagine all that information must have been frightening!" Thomas exclaimed, hoping his eagerness wasn't too obvious.

"I won't lie, it was a bit overwhelmin', but I—I want to apologize for the way I acted, you know, after hearin' what you said 'bout everybody from the future readin' minds. I was afraid I was the one who'd scare you off!"

Thomas laughed, recalling some of the vivid words that were spewed onto the paper the night before, "I have to admit, I spent half of my day just trying to figure out what a mealy-mouthed coyote was! My suspicions were correct when I figured out that it wasn't a compliment you gave!"

Lou's cheeks blushed crimson with the embarrassment, "Sorry 'bout that." Thinking of any way she could divert the subject, she asked, "How was your day?"

"Well, I managed to clean out a good portion of the attic. Definitely not the type of work I wanted to do in 95-degree weather! Which reminds me, I found something that may be of interest to you. Then again, it may mean nothing."

"Be of interest to me? What do you mean?" Lou asked, her brow knit together as her mind contemplated what the mysterious find could be.

"Of course, I probably shouldn't be telling you any of this …"

"Why not?" Her voice was soft.

"Well, we don't exactly want to create an alternate universe, or time paradox, or something, do we? Thomas knew he had to tread lightly if he were to make her understand.

"Alternate universe?! Time paradox?! What the hell kind of English do you speak in the future? Gibberish?"

He exhaled, "All I'm trying to say is, I don't want to influence you in any way that, you know, might change things in your future." Thomas shook his head, thinking of how ridiculous this whole situation seemed — about how his life had turned into some 1980s time-travel movie overnight. "I believe that certain things happen for a reason, and sometimes too much information for anyone can be a bad thing." He continued, "I very much enjoy your company, but I think we should be careful how we proceed. It's just like those modern-day photos I gave you last night— if those end up in the wrong hands back in your time...well, I'd hate to think what might happen to you." Thomas explained.

"Oh, Lord!" She exclaimed, rolling her eyes when she heard his explanation.

"What?"

"I can already tell you're one of those thinkin' types, just like my husband, Kid. Always worryin' 'bout every little thing."

"Must be our southern nature, being from Virginia and all."

Lou scoffed. "I understand your concern, Thomas, but I'm a big girl and can take care of myself."

"Louise, in the short time I've 'known' you, there is no doubt in my mind that you are capable. I just think we need to be careful, that's all. Knowing too much about one's future, well, I'm certain it can never be a good thing."

Lou remained silent, her stubbornness palpable.

"But…" Thomas paused, "I don't think much harm will come in sharing another photograph, especially since it seems to be taken around the time period you live in."

"A photograph?" She asked.

"I found it wrapped in newspaper and in a box up in the attic. The frame looked really old, figured it might be…"

"...figured it might be mine? You callin' me old now, Thomas?" A smile tugged at her lips as she lightheartedly poked fun at his expense.

"No, ma'am...I"

"Are we gonna hem and haw all night, or are you gonna show me this dag gone picture?" Lou demandingly questioned.

"Now I know where your vinegar comes from, Grace!" Thomas said aloud, his eyes looking up toward the ceiling as if it were Heaven.

He placed the photo into the drawer, slightly bending the edges to make it fit.

"Here you go."

Lou opened the drawer, her fingers grasping the delicate paper as she pulled it out. She slowly turned the aged photograph over, her hand covering her mouth as she saw the familiar faces staring back at her.

"Oh, Thomas!" Lou exclaimed as she looked at the age-worn photograph.

"So this picture does belong to you? You know who these people are?" Thomas asked.

"Oh, yes! I know who they are! Each and every one of them." Her eyes soaked in every feature of each face, memorizing every detail and storing it deep into her soul. "This photograph was taken on our weddin' day." She said as she passed a thumb over Kid's face, closing her eyes, wishing she could somehow feel him through the paper. "Kid and I had to pack light when we moved to Fredericksburg, leaving with only a few changes of clothes, and our winter gear. Everything else, including the picture, was left behind at Rachel's house for safekeepin' back in Rock Creek."

She wondered how and when in time it made its way to Fredericksburg."Thomas, where on Earth did you find this?"

"It was in a golden frame that was wrapped up, laying in a box in the attic. The frame had some sort of leaves or other ornate design on it, I'm not sure which," he said dismissively, realizing he hadn't paid much attention to the frame itself.

"It's honeysuckle." Lou interrupted.

"I beg your pardon?"

"The flowers on the frame, they're honeysuckle. She took in a deep breath as she began to explain."Not too long before our weddin', my friend Rachel and I were sittin' on her porch, chattin' about our favorite things — books, flowers, and the like. I mentioned how I always remembered my mama smellin' like her favorite fragrance of honeysuckle. I told her that every time I saw or smelled that flower, I could just close my eyes and feel my ma's presence, almost like her arms were around me— protectin' me. I always felt safe in her arms. Rachel, bein' the thoughtful lady she is, surprised me by givin' us the frame as a weddin' gift. Told me that when I looked at the flowers on the frame, it'd be like my mama was there with us in spirit, always watchin' over us as the years go by. I know it sounds silly…" Lou's voice seemed to trail away with her memories.

"It ain't silly. I wish I had more memories of my mother the way you do of yours..." Thomas's voice faltered. "I was also ten when both my parents died, the same age as you when you lost your mother. I've tried so hard to remember what my mama's voice sounded like, but my ears can't seem to hear it anymore. I've tried hard to remember if my dad had dimples like mine, but I can't see his face. The thing I wonder the most is whether or not they knew I loved them before they left." The threat of tears burned behind his eyes. "Truth is, so much time has passed that I really don't remember much beyond watching them walk out the front door the day they died. All I know is the world has seemed a lot darker and heavier without them in it. The only things I can remember are what comes in bits and pieces in my nightmares." Thomas closed his eyes.

"Thomas that letter you wrote me, the very first one you sent, you mentioned things — things like every silver linin' always havin' that one dark cloud that follows you around, and the line 'bout the lingerin' heartaches that you hold inside..."

"I wrote that? Naw, you must be mistaking me for someone else from the future you've been talkin' to." He joked, never been one to be serious for too long, always the one who tries hard to hide his heartache from the world.

"I'm bein' serious here. Your words, they stopped me dead cold in my tracks. They were raw — they spoke to me. I s'pose that's what compelled me so much to write you back."

"Well...I'm glad you did, Louise, otherwise, I'd be bored to tears living in this house all alone." He smiled, but it was the truth.

"For what it's worth, though, I...well, I wanted to let you know I understand how you feel. It ain't everyday you meet someone who's experienced loss like we have, and I know how hard it is believin' the good things will come 'round."

"And do you believe they will happen, these 'good things,' Louise?"

"I try," she said, trying to be confident, if not for Thomas, than for herself. "I hope."

Thomas changed the subject, deflecting any lingering sadness.

"So this photograph, these folks, they're…?

"They're all my family, well Express family, anyway. Every single one of them." Lou said, her eyes never lifting off of Kid's face.

"So, which one is he?"Thomas wondered.

"Who?"

"What do you mean, who? The one you haven't been able to take your eyes off of since I handed over the photograph!"

"Oh, him! He's the one on my left." She blushed, looking down at Kid.

"Ah, that Kid is one handsome fellow!"

"How'd you know?"

"Well, he's got a nice jawline, soft eyes…"He started to say before Lou cut him off.

She rolled her eyes, exhaling in a huff, "I meant how'd you know I was lookin' at him? Wait a minute...you aren't..."

"For the hundredth time, I can't read minds! I swear." Thomas shook his head, supposing he'd have to spend the rest of his life convincing her otherwise.

He continued,"If you'll recall, it was me who first read YOUR letter to your husband. Not unlike your reason for writing back to me, it was your words about Kid and your family that inspired me to write to you in the first place. You and Kid have a strong love. Rare even. I'd give anything to have what you two have."

Lou stopped in her tracks. She had heard those words before.

Dawkins.

"So you're not married?" She asked, hoping she wasn't prying.

"I was. Once."

"Oh."The questions brewed in Lou's mind, but Thomas was quick at diverting her attention.

"So dare I ask if this 'Kid' has a real name?"

"Isn't that a question for the ages?!"

"You mean to tell me he doesn't have a name or you don't know what it is?"

"Oh, he has one, or so he says. It's just, well, I've just never cared to ask him and he's never bothered to tell me. Doesn't matter anyhow, he'll always be 'The Kid' to me."

"You must miss him somethin' terrible."

Lou nodded, biting her bottom lip, "I miss him so much it hurts. Sometimes, I feel as though it's hard to breathe, almost like I can't catch my breath —that the air has been sucked out of my chest. I find myself not bein' able to think straight, worryin' if he's sick, or if he's had enough to eat. Wonderin' if my sweet Kid's body is lyin' in a heap somewhere off in ..."

She couldn't finish her sentence before Thomas intervened, knowing all too well she was not in a healthy state of mind.

"You're forgetting one important thing, Louise. This feeling goes both ways. I can guarantee you he's out there right now looking up at the night's stars in the night sky, wondering why on God's green Earth he left you to begin with, finding it hard to sleep at night because everytime he sees those twinkling stars it reminds him of you, and he's not only fighting a war for our country, he's also fighting a battle with himself.

"But…" Lou tried to interrupt, but he wouldn't let her.

"I will bet you the McCloud Ranch that every night he is praying to God that his wife is safe and sound in the home he left behind. Better yet, I bet he's dreaming about the first time he ever laid eyes on you, the first time he asked you to dance, or whether or not his wife is working her fingers to the bone in his absence. Most importantly, he's thinking about the last time you both made love, the way your body felt when he held you in his arms for the last time, having to tell you that painful goodbye. And I know he prays hard for the day, he'll be able to hold you in his arms again, and I guarantee you, he won't ever want to let go again."

Lou's tears flowed freely. "You always this deep, Thomas?"

"Only with the old ladies."

A puff of air escaped her nose in what appeared to be the beginning of laughter. She turned serious once again, wiping the wetness from her cheeks.

"I don't know, Thomas, there's somethin' else that's botherin' me — somethin' I haven't told anyone."

"I don't have anything else to do or anywhere else to be." His brow creased. "But if it's not something you want to talk about, I understand."

"Well, I...I just found out a few days ago that I'm, you know, expectin'." She was timid, finding it uncomfortable to say the words.

"I can't exactly say it was a surprise, I had suspected it for a while. If Doc Martin's calculations are correct, the baby will be here mid-January. I guess at least I can be thankful that this war has managed to stay away from Fredericksburg. I couldn't imagine bringing a baby into a godforsaken war zone."

Thomas's face grew pale at her words, the realization hitting him like a slap in the face. December 1862 — The Battle of Fredericksburg. The bloody turning point in the war that was fought right here on the McCloud land. President Lincoln himself had even compared the famed battle as 'Hell on Earth'.

"A winter baby, huh?" He swallowed hard. Thomas didn't know Grace's family history well enough to know the outcome of Louise's particular circumstance. He knew she must have survived the birth because all of Grace's stories had interactions with her grandmother, Louise. As far as the living situation during and after the battle, the delivery, the baby's health — they were all a mystery to him.

"That's wonderful news! I'm really happy for you, Louise."

"Somehow it don't seem right, though, someone knowin' before Kid."

"Well, this is one secret I don't mind keeping."

Her breath hitched upon seeing Thomas's written words, her memories carrying her back to that dress shop in Sweetwater, standing before Kid, seeing his face light up when seeing her in a dress for the first time.

"I'm sure he'll be over the moon when you get the opportunity to tell him. I assume that is what you meant by 'the precious gift you left behind' in your letter?"

"Oh, you caught on to that, huh?" She smiled, sheepishly.

"So tell me, how are you feeling, Louise?"

"Well, I've been pretty sick, nauseous and dizzy mostly...and scared."

"It's quite normal to feel scared when you are expecting a child."

"But I'm scared to the point where I can't let myself be happy, Thomas."

She went on to explain."Every time I have somethin' to look forward to, someone or something always gets taken away from me, and I'm sick of it! I'm too scared, thinkin' I'll go to bed one night and wake up the next mornin' to find my dream of becomin' a mother was just that—a dream."

"I'm scared knowin' I might die givin' birth, or worse yet, deliver a baby that will never take its first breath."

Lou took in a deep, shaky breath, finding it harder to hold her composure.

"But the one thing that scares me the most, Thomas, is that I may never see my husband again. I'm scared he'll go to the grave never knowin' he was going to be a daddy. Scared that I may never get to place our baby in those strong hands of his and watch his eyes light up when their first words are spoken'. I'm scared to death that this damn war will make our child an orphan, just like we were. Thomas, the pain of not knowin' where Kid is — this waitin' on word whether he's alive or dead is unbearable, and it's killin' me on the inside! The one time in my life I have somethin' to look forward to, I can't see anything but my happiness fading away from me."

Thomas noticed the circular wet marks on the paper, and didn't have to ask if they were tears. She was in pain, and he could feel it. Even if it were against the laws of nature, he was going to do anything he could to help her.

"It's okay, Louise. Fear of the unknown is normal for anyone, but especially when you're pregnant." He said, wishing he could order some lab work, and get an OB panel on her, wondering if modern medicine could be able to withstand the test of time.

"How would you know!? Have you ever carried a child?" Lou spat.

He laughed heartily, "Uh no, but this is an area I'm confident I can be of help."

"How do you mean this is an area you can be of help?! You sound pretty sure of yourself there," She asked, confusion written on her face.

"I'm an obstetrician, Louise."

"And what the hell is that!?" She exclaimed."I swear sometimes it ain't English you speak, Thomas!" She spat again.

"I'm a physician in women's health..."

Silence ensued.

"I birth babies!"

"Well, why didn't you say that in the first place?!" Louise exclaimed.

"Trust me I wish I would have!" He said under his breath, realizing that helping Louise out may prove to be more difficult than he originally thought.

"I hate doctors, Thomas!"

"I promise I'm not like any doctor you've ever encountered. Many things in the future have changed for the better and medicine is one of them. If you'll let me, I can help you, Louise."

She was silent, her thoughts scattered.

"Lou…Please. Trust me."

Lou remained thoughtful, soaking in the words on the page.

"You're gonna be a wonderful mother, Louise. I have no doubt in my mind."

"How can you be so sure?" She asked.

He smiled brightly, "Because of Grace."

"She adored you, Louise. You were all she ever talked about."

"Thomas?"

"Yeah, Lou?"

"Tell me more about her... about Grace. What was she like?"

He smiled, "We'll have to save that conversation for another night. You need to get your rest."

Lou scoffed.

Thomas sighed. "Louise?"

"Yeah?"

"Grace was the toughest woman I've ever met, and after talking with you the past few nights, well, there is no doubt in my mind that some of that toughness, that grit, had trickled down from you."

"I hope you rest easy tonight knowing that your legacy will live on." He smiled, then added.

"And Louise?

"Yes?"

"I can tell you're going to make one hell of a mother."

A corner of her mouth lifted just as the gentle breeze from the open window swept across her face, the chill drying away her tears. She took a deep breath and exhaled, the tension slowly slipping away, and in its place was the beginning of peaceful relaxation mixed with a surprising amount of anticipation.

She was going to be a mama afterall.

"Thank you, Thomas."

"Good night, Louise."

Thomas rested his head back on the desk chair, his whole body ached from the day's heavy chores. His hand touched the back of his neck, wincing when his fingers began to massage away the knots in his tight muscles. A groan came from his mouth as he stood. He walked over to the window, looking out into the moonlit pasture, wondering what this scenery must have looked like in the summer of 1862.

His forehead pressed up against the window, his hot breath steaming up the glass. A myriad of questions crossed his mind, knowing very well that if he were to be of help to Louise those questions would need answers. But tonight he was tired, and the research would have to wait until tomorrow.

He closed the curtains and turned towards the bedroom door, tripping over a loose wooden floorboard he didn't see in the middle of the room.

The soft bed broke his fall, but somehow still managed to scrape his forearm and knee in the process.

"Damn it!"

After standing to brush off the dust and dirt on his legs, he spied his notepad on the nightstand. Reaching out to grasp his pen and pad of paper and seeing the long list of home repairs, he sighed, adding:

Fix the loose floorboard in Louise's room!