After turning off the camera, she tucked it into her bag. Keeping it in the open was asking for trouble. “I should get back to this anyway.” Helen started to weave the bands of metal together for the chain. At least that part should be easy.
“Can I have a minute with you?” Lizzy asked her son.
“Sure.” Simon turned back to Helen. “I’ll be right back.”
* * * *
The family hall was vacant. Simon knew a guard was stationed at the top of the stairway, far out of hearing range.
“So, you and Helen?” Liz asked Simon.
This was new. His mother never took an interest in his love life. For all he knew, she wasn’t aware he had one. Lizzy wasn’t stupid. Pretending she was would be insulting. That didn’t mean Simon had to share much in the way of details.
“Helen and I.”
Liz placed her hands on her hips and attempted a scowl.
She sucked at scowling.
“I like her.”
Simon smiled. “So do I.”
“She’s smart.”
“I think so, too.”
“Smart, but not completely prepared to be here…with you.”
“What are you dancing around, Mom?”
“There aren’t corner drug stores, you know, to pick up things. I had to raise you for the first thirteen years of your life by myself. It wasn’t easy.”
Ah, got it. His mother was giving him a delayed speech about birth control. Not that it existed much in this time.
Lizzy went on. “The way we all breed around here…. It’s like it’s in the water or something.”
“It’s in the sex, Mom.”
She slapped his arm in a playful manner. “You do right by that girl.”
“Do you really believe you have to tell me this?” In a way, he was offended by the conversation. His mom should know him better than anyone. They’d been through hell and back together.
“I’m a mom, I worry. I have a right to worry if I want to. Sex makes babies, not that I need to tell you this, and yours will be my grandchildren. You grew up without a father for a lot of years. I know you won’t want that for your children.”
“Mom?” Simon placed a hand on her shoulder and stopped her tirade. “Helen and I are adults. We will deal with whatever we need to deal with. If you know me so well, you know you don’t have to worry about it.”
“I still worry.”
“And I love you for it.” His smile turned into a scowl. “But don’t insult me.”
He met her shocked expression with silence.
“I didn’t mean to insult you.”
“But you did.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I know.”
Simon left his mother in the hall and went back in the room where Helen worked. When she turned her smile on him part of his anger toward his mother faded.
However, her words didn’t.
* * * *
The sanctuary Helen hoped to share with Simon for the remaining days they had in the sixteenth century was currently being renovated to house Tara and Lora. Much to her utter frustration, cornering Simon alone proved impossible. She was too exhausted to do much other than sleep anyway.
Finally, after only a few days of work, the necklaces were completed. With their completion, the reality that they’d be leaving soon crept in.
Helen managed to take pictures of the family in various places of the Keep. From the high tower, she took shots of the surrounding hills. The final shots of the Keep would have to wait until they left. Nobody went outside the walls without a full escort and certainly not for a frivolous picture.
Pictures, especially digital ones, lasted forever. Where will these end up, she mused. Who would see them and what impact would they have on the future? Was she changing the future by taking them? Having never been the artsy photographer who took shots with hopes of landing them in the Smithsonian, Helen realized that these could end up on some government database of “X” files about the possibility of time travel. How she downloaded them, and where she put them, would have to be figured out, carefully. Every possible security considered. Every photo placed into a computer had a date stamp on it and location the picture was taken. Although that function probably wouldn’t work in the sixteenth century. Even if it did, anyone analyzing the data would think a computer had screwed up.
Helen stood over a basin of water, splashing her face and neck. What she wouldn’t do for a shower. The poor excuse for a bathroom stunk and was shared by too many people. She didn’t have long to wait. Their return trip home was less then twelve hours away. Once night fell, they would ride out, find a secluded spot, and slip into the twenty-first century. They had darn well better arrive in Mrs. Dawson’s backyard, or they’d all end up on the news as a band of misfits dressed in medieval garb.
The original plan was for Helen, Simon, Amber, and Cian to land in Scotland to intercept Philip and learn what he was up to. In light of the new and bigger problem, Scotland would have to wait until they tucked everyone in Mrs. Dawson’s home.
Helen’s poor friend was going to flip when they arrived. She’d love it. Every noisy inch of it. Mrs. Dawson always wanted children, but was never blessed with them. Careful what you ask for. A crash-course in being a grandparent was about to absorb Mrs. Dawson’s life.
Frantic pounding on a door down the hall snapped Helen out of her thoughts. Her heart rate kicked in her chest as she flew to the door.
Shouts started to accompany the pounding. “We’re leaving now.”
Helen flung open the door and observed the chaos. Children ran to their parents with wide eyes and trembling lips. Simon, wearing only a kilt over his hips, pounded on doors as he ran down the hall.
Ian ran down the opposite way shouting orders. “Gather only essentials and dress quickly. You ride within the hour.”
“An hour? What happened?”
“Their army is on the move,” Ian explained.
“How soon before they get here?”
“Two days. We need you to leave and spread word once you’re gone.” Ian placed a hand to the side of Amber’s cheek. “I’m sorry to have you leave like this.”
Amber nodded and stifled a gasp when Ian turned and fled the hall.
“Okay, kids. You heard your grandfather. Get dressed and pack only what you can carry. Selma, Briac, help the others.” Tara grasped Amber’s arm and led her away.
Helen started to follow but Simon stopped her.
“Is everything okay?” she asked him.