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The Future
“Take me outside. I want to look at the mountains, please,” Caitlin asked Scott. He carried her to the outside seating area immediately past their bedroom door, wrapped in a purple rug. Caitlin’s hands and feet were getting colder. She could tell she was so much lighter by the ease with which Scott lifted her. Ceilidh, Murray and Kelly sat on the bench-seat next to them. Their other children were on their way.
They knew.
Caitlin sat in Scott’s lap as she gazed at the view of the grey-brown mountains opposite, their sides becoming purple with the heather in bloom.
One last time.
Caitlin loved her Bonnie Scotland. She called it hers, even though it belonged to no human. After a while, she turned her head to face Scott. She had waited for his return.
“Gra mo chroi, I should have come sooner. Forgive me.” His gravelly voice held pain.
Or was it regret?
Caitlin focussed on Scott. He returned her gaze, his eyes soft, with slight smile lines at the edges of red-rimmed, gradually moistening, piercing blue orbs.
My love, you are brave and heroic, but you won’t cope with this. Sorry.
“Always and forever...” Caitlin breathed it out, barely audible.
His eyes searched hers, a look of foreboding started its journey across his features.
Now her vision went through him, her soul free.
Murray watched his dad shake. His dad’s breath came haltingly at first, then progressed to uncontrollable, body-racking sobs; his tall frame shrank beneath his grief, his face buried in his wife’s golden hair. After a brief time, Murray’s dad gently laid his mum’s lifeless body on the couch outside and left without a word.
***
THE LIVING ROOM WAS full of people, so full, mourners stood outside on the balcony and even more were out the front where there was nowhere to sit. Murray’s heart pumped louder in his chest and the muscles in his back and arms tensed as he brushed shoulders with yet another mourner. Murray made his way to the backdoor. His mother’s wake was becoming too much. Did he have to endure it?
Why couldn’t he just go to his room and pretend to be with his dad? It had worked so far, hadn’t it? His and Kelly’s subterfuge had convinced Angela and Rory that their grief-stricken dad wasn’t coming out of Murray’s room. Not even for the funeral. And amazingly, his bossy big sister had been okay with it. After some convincing. Even Aunty Bec had been okay with passing tablets through the door, so his ‘distraught father’ would get some sleep last night.
Murray approached the backdoor. The minister who’d conducted his mother’s funeral spoke to Angela.
“I have knocked on your brother’s door to rouse your father, but he’s no’ answering. I’m concerned he may be in difficulty. Scott was staying in your brother Murray’s room, was he not?”
“Thank you, Reverend.” Angela’s deep red hair fell down her back as her shoulders bristled. “I’ll get my brother Murray to open up and we’ll get to the bottom of this.”
Turning hastily, she nearly knocked into Murray.
“There you are!” Her wide blue eyes were inches from his face. “Come with me.”
“What?”
“Come with me.” Angela grabbed his sleeve and dragged him to his room where she demanded he open the door. There was no dissuading her.
“Dad! Dad? Where are you?” Angela called after Murray unlocked his door.
The room was empty. Angela whirled around to him and glared.
“Where’s Dad? You and Kelly have been seeing to him, so, where is he?” Her voice was high pitched and strained.
“He must’ve gone to the funeral after all. Slipped in the back unnoticed.” Murray shrugged.
She wouldn’t believe the truth if he told her. And when they make him, she’ll kill him.
“Dad, unnoticed? You’re kidding me!” she snapped.
Angela grabbed Murray’s hand and dragged him back to their parent’s quarters, one of the original farmhouses on the property. She scanned the living room full of mourners and well-wishers, her eyes darting in every direction at once. A dissatisfied expression crossed her face. Angela turned to Murray with a scowl. He opened his mouth. Giving him no time to comment, Angela faced the crowded room again and, seeing her brothers who were in the Militia, gave them a sharp wave. Callum and Brendan responded at once.
Rory finished his conversation with Dr Farquhar and, with a nod, made his way toward his elder sister. He was tall and muscular, with tightly cropped dark-red hair above intelligent eyes sitting in a freckled face. Murray gulped as he watched his elder brother walk toward him, all confidence, fitness and strength—totally opposite to himself.
“Dad is not in Murray’s room.” Angela stared accusingly at Murray and then turned to his brothers. “So, would you please quietly search for him?”
“Where?” Callum finished the drink in his hand.
“Anywhere,” Angela snapped.
The three burly young men quietly walked away. Murray followed on their heels like a puppy, glad to be away from Angela. Twenty minutes later, they returned to Angela.
“Nothing,” Rory shook his head.
“Nothing?” Angela’s eyes were wide. “Search further. The stables. The storerooms. Anywhere!” She flicked her hand dismissively. Her gaze rested accusingly on Murray once more. It was one of those looks. Murray walked to the kitchen to ensure he was out of her sight. He wouldn’t waste time pretending to look for his dad.
The room quietened, and most people in the room now stared at Angela. Murray peered around the corner. She couldn’t see him, but he needed to keep an eye on her. She straightened her shoulders and moved to a group of mourners. They gave their condolences she moved on to the next group.
“Miss Campbell...Angela.” A woman’s voice from behind interrupted her conversation. Angela turned.
“I see your father is still not here. Is he well? Mr Campbell must be taking it very badly. I can’t begin to imagine,” the woman said.
“Aye.” Her husband joined her. “I see you’ve sent your brothers off to fetch him. Do you need any help?”
Angela shook her head.
“No, really,” the man insisted. “I overheard you telling your brothers to go find him. We’ll be glad to help.”
Others nodded and voiced agreement. Soon the wake dispersed and became a search party.
After two hours of searching for their father, with no sightings of him, Angela called a family meeting. Their Uncle Brendan and Aunty Bec were there for support. Murray moved next to Kelly. They glanced at each other.
“It seems our father is missing.” Angela opened the discussion.
“Well, who saw him last?” Rory asked. They all turned to Ceilidh, Murray and Kelly.
“You said he was there when Mum died. Was he?” Rory asked Ceilidh.
“Aye, he was. He took her outside. She wanted to see the mountains...” Ceilidh melted into tears and couldn’t speak further. Aunty Bec put her arm around her and gave her a gentle hug. Angela glared at Murray next.
“Well, he left when she died, and I had to carry Mum inside.” He finished the story.
“So, has anyone seen him after that?” Uncle Brendan asked.
“Murray and Kelly have been taking him meals and seeing to him in Murray’s room.” Angela answered, glowering at him and Kelly in turn. Everyone was looking at him and Kelly. They returned everyone’s stares. Murray held his breath. Time to face the music, as their mum would say.
“Well?” Angela’s lips pressed together, and her face was becoming the colour of her long straight hair.
“May I speak to Murray and Kelly alone? Would that be okay with you Angela?” Uncle Brendan’s tone was placating. He knew what Angela was like when over stressed. This situation fitted the description of over stressed.
Angela gave a reluctant nod, and Aunty Bec and Uncle Brendan ushered Murray and Kelly into their now vacant parent’s bedroom.
Uncle Brendan sat them on the end of the double bed.
“Care to tell us what has happened?” Uncle Brendan and Aunty Bec stood in front of them.
“Well, Dad’s gone missing,” Murray answered.
He would play dumb for a bit.
“We’re aware of that. Tell us what we don’t know, son.” Uncle Brendan waited patiently in the quiet room. “Your Aunty Bec and I know more than you think we do.”
Murray and Kelly sat on the edge of their parent’s bed, both looking at the dull beige carpet. Their conspiracy uniting them in silence. Say as little as possible, sis.
“I have always admired your parents,” Aunty Bec said. “They’ve brought you up to be loyal. I respect that. But if something significant has happened, you need to tell us, no matter what promises you have made.”
Kelly rubbed her hands in her lap. Murray tapped his right foot rapidly, causing his whole leg to shake. And the bed. They both stayed speechless.
“Please remember we have known your mother since she was in her early twenties,” Uncle Brendan tried again. “Long before she came here, and we all helped to set things up for this community.”
Uncle Brendan was fishing, but Murray lacked the information to be sure of what his uncle referred to—though he could guess.
“You are asking me to break a promise which I’ve made to keep important secrets. Are you serious?” It was a kind of code. If his Uncle Brendan was on the ball, it would signal to him that what had occurred had something to do with The Time Machine. His uncle would then understand whether or not to speak any further in front of the others.
Silence engulfed them, but not for long.
“You know?” Kelly gasped.
Shut up, Kelly!
“Know what, Kelly?” Uncle Brendan responded.
Murray glared at his sister. Kelly stopped herself from finishing whatever she was going to say.
“Don’t let your brother prevent you from concluding what may be correct.” Uncle Brendan held the palm of his hand up to Murray’s face to stop him censoring Kelly. “Look, you two, we’re on your side. We’re on your parent’s side.”
Kelly glanced sideways at Murray. “You go first.”
How much should he say? Confessing that he’d revealed The Time Machine exists was probably the lesser of three evils.
“I told her about The Time Machine.” Murray waited for a reprimand. The yelling didn’t come. He opened his eyes and looked at his uncle.
“You would only have done that if you needed to. Did you need to?” His uncle’s kind expression filled his view.
Murray screwed up his whole face. Agony. How would he say what he wanted to? Should he say it at all?
“Someone has discharged The Time Machine. A pod is missing, and they’ve used the journey to the past.” Uncle Brendan came to the rescue. “Care to tell me what you know about that? You’re not in trouble. I just need you to confirm my suspicions, son.”
Murray opened his eyes wide. A mixture of disbelief and relief moved through him in waves.
“You say it Uncle Brendan, please.”
“Okay. Your dad went back in time.”
Murray nodded. “Well, that’s what Mum thought he would do.”
There, he’d said it.
“Your mother knew?” Aunty Bec raised her eyebrows.
“Aye.” Kelly now re-joined the conversation. “She spent most of her last days telling me how Dad had gone back in time to keep her safe.”
“So, you guys knew?” Murray asked.
“We suspected,” Brendan said. “You see, we spent a long, severe winter with your parents. We got to know them well and admire them. Your mother was quite young. A lot younger than your father, who looked about the same age as he does now. But we didn’t know it was him then, the same man as now. We left them in the spring and did not see them again.” He scratched his ear and screwed his mouth to the side. “Well, we didn’t reconnect with your mother until about five years later. Caitlin was on her own and would not speak of what happened to your father. We thought of him as your mother’s first husband. She stayed single for years and then your father, but as a young man, not far out of boyhood, arrived at the compound. He looked familiar to us.” Uncle Brendan glanced over to Aunty Bec for confirmation. She nodded. “Your mother was enamoured with him right from the start,” he continued. “As he grew older, we saw a resemblance to her first husband and assumed that was why Caitlin was attracted—he was so like him. But as the years passed, we saw the old Scott emerge, the one we’d known. Then, with the development of The Time Machine, we started wondering ‘if’. I was on the verge of mentioning it to your father, but how would I say it? Then your mother became very unwell...and here we are. So, after today’s events, the ‘if’ became a ‘maybe’. You have now informed us it is actually a ‘certainty’.”