Page 32 of Time for You

“What’s in your knapsack?” Anne asked around a mouthful of cold roast chicken, nodding toward the pack he’d left against the wall. George and Maggie were discussing a ship that had been delayed by a storm, while Lydia spoke softly to Shepard in the corner.

The gang had had several conversations about the ethics of sending him back with modern medicine, as what about paradoxes was something most of them seemed gravely concerned with, despite not being able to sufficiently explain the issue to him.

However, in the end they’d packed him up with half a dozen different medicines and an old pharmacological textbook, with the caveat that he had to immediately promise to write a will wherein that book would be burned upon his death, to lessen the chance of “breaking the space-time continuum.”

“Medicines, mostly,” he said, and Anne’s eyes lit up.

“What sort? Tonics? Something for pain?”

“A few for pain, but the rest are for infections. There’s a book that explains how to use them, but we have to be careful, as these haven’t been invented or discovered yet.”

Anne furrowed her brow. “Why does that matter?”

Henry sighed. “No one would really explain, but I guess things are supposed to happen in a specific order, and they’re worried that if something happens too early, it could keep other important things from happening.”

But Anne was eyeing his backpack and clearly not really listening. “Can I see them? You said some are for infections, and I’ve been reading some research coming out of Germany about infections caused by tiny living organisms. Does this kill those organisms?”

“That’s roughly what happens, yes. There’s a book that explains how it works as well.”

Anne nearly shoved him over in her haste to get to the bag. “Really and truly? Can I read it? I promise, I won’t tell a soul.”

Henry laughed, his sister’s brightness reminding him that coming back had been the honorable thing to do. “You may. I won’t be able to explain much, but they taught me the basics.”

“And it’s common for women to be doctors? That wasn’t just you saying so?”

“I personally knew four women doctors, all of them brilliant. And it wasn’t seen as at all unusual.”

Anne sighed wistfully. “I wish I could travel to the future.”

“The portal won’t open for another seven years. But I wish you could; you’d love it there. It’s fun, Annie. So much fun.”

Anne blinked. “Who are you, and what have you done with my women should learn to be happy with what they have, lest they risk being miserable brother?”

“He went to the future and learned he’d been a downright ass to you.” And he was unhappy with his lot in life and terrified you’d end up the same way.

“Did the future also make you forget your manners?” Anne said, looking a little surprised at his crude language.

Henry chuckled ruefully. “It did a little, yes.”

“Well then. Thinking you might be dead was awful, but if you’re back and less of a miserable prat, I guess you falling through a time veil isn’t so bad.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t come home sooner,” he said.

“Nonsense, you came as soon as you could manage,” Anne said, digging through his bag to find the textbook from Vibol. “What’s this?” she added, picking up a small, stiff rectangle that had fluttered to the floor.

It was a photo of him and Daphne on the dance floor at the gala, lost in each other. Ellie had printed it for him, and he’d smuggled it back in between the pages of the book, unwilling to leave all proof of his feelings for Daphne in the future.

“It’s a photograph,” he said around a suddenly tight throat.

Anne studied it closely. “Ahhh,” she said quietly. “I see.”

“She’s one of the doctors I was telling you about,” Henry said, attempting to sound as though he were discussing Brittany or Ellie and not the love of his life.

“Mm-hmm,” Anne said. “She’s pretty.”

She’s beautiful. “She is. Was. Will be? I haven’t quite figured out how to talk about the future, given that it’s also my past.”

“Nice try, big brother. I won’t be so easily distracted. You really left her behind? For us?”

“I had to, Annie. I couldn’t let you all believe I’d deserted you.”

“We never thought that. We grieved, of course. Mama didn’t get out of bed for a week once we realized you wouldn’t be coming home, and Maggie threw herself into running the business but barely slept. But we never thought you’d simply abandoned us.”

“And what did you do?”

Anne smiled sadly. “I went into your room every day to read a book.”

Guilt washed over him. He shouldn’t have stayed just to break his own heart. He should have come home right away, saved them all the pain, himself included. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered.

“I know,” Anne said. “But you’re back, and that’s what matters.”

Across the room, Maggie yawned behind her hand and George stood up. “We should get some sleep and resume our festivities in the morning,” he suggested.

“I’ll have to go check out the docks, see what’s happening,” Henry pointed out.

“I can take you,” Maggie suggested. “I want your opinion on a few things.”

“How about supper, then?” George suggested.

“I’ll have Cook draw up a menu. Would you want to invite anyone else, ma’am?” Shepard asked Lydia.

“No one else yet. I’ll put out that he’s back from his trip to America, but that we want to wait a few days before throwing an official soiree.”

“My trip?”

“In case you did come back,” Maggie said with a shrug. “We knew you weren’t, or I guess we thought we knew you weren’t, but since we didn’t know for sure—”

“Mama didn’t want Uncle Stephen trying to run the business again,” Anne interjected.

“Hush,” Lydia said.

“Your bedroom is still made up, Mr. MacDonald,” Shepard said. “We let Higgins go after—ah, your disappearance, but I could wake a footman.”

Higgins was Henry’s valet, having been hired just a few weeks before he traveled. “No need, let them sleep.” He’d been dressing himself for months, and it would take some time to get used to having servants do that for him. “Did Higgins find a new position?”

“I could ask around, but I believe so, sir. We did give him an excellent character reference, of course.”

“Of course. But for tonight, I’ll see to myself, and we can handle that tomorrow.” The habits of being a rich man in the 1880s were slowly coming back to him, but they felt like an ill-fitting pair of boots, too stiff in places and too loose in others.

“Just so, sir. Let me get you a candle, and then I’ll see Mr. Campbell out.”

Lydia came over to give him another tight hug, and Maggie did the same. Anne was absorbed in the medical text, brushing her chin with the end of her braid in an achingly familiar way. “Annie, dearest. We’re off to bed,” Lydia said gently.

“Can’t I—”

“Tomorrow. Whatever that book is, it will still be here tomorrow.”

Anne sighed and reluctantly closed it, but she didn’t leave it on her chair. Henry knew that if he knocked on her door in an hour, she’d still be awake, curled next to her fire, reading voraciously. “Good night, little sister,” he said, and kissed the top of her head.

“Good night, big brother,” she echoed with a sweetly innocent smile. Oh yes, she was definitely staying awake the rest of the night.

Henry bade George goodbye and followed his family upstairs. His bedroom was neat, having been kept in good order by the maids, but it still felt foreign. This will pass, he reminded himself. Just as the future felt odd for weeks, this too will seem strange until I’m reaccustomed to it.

But everything felt wrong. His nightshirt was too scratchy, the sheets cold.

The mattress was soft but lumpy, nothing like the glorious clouds they slept on in the future.

Even having a fire going in the grate was odd, the noise abruptly unfamiliar.

A log cracked and hissed and Henry turned over, wishing above all else for Daphne’s warmth beside him.

The past, as it turned out, was a lonely beast.

The air near the docks felt familiar, although it did little to lift his spirits.

Henry had awoken confused, only to remember that yesterday—yesterday, but also nearly one hundred and fifty years in the future—he had said goodbye to Daphne.

Now he was home, where he belonged, and had to go back to his responsibilities.

His sojourn to the future had been a lark, an interlude in his life, but it was done and best to put it behind him now.

Maggie, on the other hand, had a spring in her step Henry had never seen before.

“Miss MacDonald!” called a dockworker, standing near a stack of barrels.

“The captain of the Fine Lady said he saw the Robert Burns just a day or so ago, going slow but steady. She’ll need some repairs but should make it safely. ”

“Oh good, I’m glad she’s intact,” Maggie said, drawing to a stop.

Henry had never seen his sister interact with anyone outside their social station, aside from servants, and he was struck by her ease almost as much as the practical work boots she had on under her petticoats.

“With the storm last week, I feared the worst.”

“Aye, I know. But like I told ye, it’s nothing she hasn’t handled before. Captain Hanson is one of the best.”

“Thank you, Peter,” Maggie said, and they kept on walking, Peter apparently not having recognized Henry.

In fact, he’d barely spared Henry a glance at all, and to be fair, Henry didn’t recognize Peter—perhaps he was someone who had unloaded for them in the past, but he only knew the foremen at the docks, not every individual worker.

At the time he’d felt like a fair-minded businessman, but he could see Daphne pursing her lips and shaking her head at him.

As he and Maggie walked to the warehouse, that scene repeated itself several times, each man eager to share with her a bit of news.

Two more men told them the Robert Burns was on its way, while another stopped her to let her know the shipment of timber from yesterday had some flaws, and he was worried she was being taken advantage of by their Norwegian supplier.

“I’m well aware of the flaws, John, but I didn’t buy that timber for shipwrights.

It’s bound for a paper mill, and structural flaws don’t matter much when it comes to paper.

” Rather than being chagrined at being gently chastised, John had nodded respectfully and returned to his work.

“A paper mill? We don’t have any paper mill clients,” Henry observed.

“We didn’t. We do now,” Maggie said. She unlocked the door to the office that Henry had come to dread, but it looked different.

Brighter, somehow. “I cleaned the windows,” Maggie explained with a toss of her dark head.

“You let it get frightfully dingy in here. You’ll ruin your eyesight if you let it get like that again, so mind that you don’t. ”

Henry nodded, taking it in. Most was as he’d left it, but with Maggie’s mark left everywhere—the neat stack of papers on one table, and a large map now pinned to the wall behind him, tiny colored tacks scattered across the ocean.

“I keep track of the ships, based on expected travel times and any weather events. There was a storm four days ago, and even despite that, the Robert Burns should have made it to berth by yesterday evening, so there likely is some sort of damage, even if Fine Lady ’s crew says she looked whole.

” She moved one red tack a few inches to the left, bringing it closer to Edinburgh.

“And the paper mill?”

Maggie ran her tongue over her teeth, thinking. “I’ve made some changes to how you ran things.”

“I can see that. I’m not upset, Mags. This looks brilliant already. I just want to know what I’m taking over.”

Annoyance flickered across Maggie’s face. “You simply took over what Father had left, which was obviously successful, but ...”

“But?” he prompted.

“But it was stagnating, Henry. Mama did a good job of keeping Uncle Stephen from racking up too much debt before you took over, and you did a fine job at keeping it going. But a business can’t just do what was always done, and anyway, I don’t believe we’ll have much to do with shipbuilding for much longer, anyway.

Steamships are clearly going to take over, and if we want to keep up our relationships with timber companies in Scandinavia, we needed to figure out where to send it. ”

“Thus, paper,” Henry said, idly flipping through an account book. The hand in it was familiar, but it wasn’t Maggie’s.

“Thus, paper,” Maggie agreed. “Mama’s been helping, too. She can do a lot of sums in her head, said it was all that menu planning us ladies have to do, but between you and me, I think she just likes arithmetic.”

“This—” Henry thumbed through the book, trying to make sense of the figures. “This can’t be right. In only five months?”

Maggie tried to hide the swell of pride, but Henry could see right through her. “By the end of next month, we’ll have added almost a third to our usual import tallies.”

Henry’s eyebrows hit his hairline and he whistled softly.

He had known, of course, that his family was capable of surviving without him, but he hadn’t expected them to excel in his absence.

“Who does the firm belong to now?” Women could own some property, but if either sister married, it would become her husband’s instead.

“You, still. Mama was worried about someone trying to take it from us, so we put about that you were on a trip to America, which apparently wasn’t a lie. We just had some details wrong. But that way, if Anne or I were to marry, it would stay with Mama.”

Something cold settled in his gut. They were fine without him, which was comforting but also devastating, because he had come back to help them.

Maybe if he’d come back the first time, he could have realized this and then—no, he couldn’t think that way.

He couldn’t contemplate a world where he returned to Daphne for good, because that wasn’t possible anymore.

In seven years’ time, she would have moved on.

He wanted her to; she deserved happiness.

But maybe it didn’t have to be this way, and that knowledge threatened to crack his splintering heart in two.

“Henry? Are you all right?”

“Fine, Mags. Just impressed,” he said, and Maggie, always a little less perceptive than Anne, merely nodded with her head a little higher.