Kiernan curses under his breath, and Simon goes on, “Abel, there are Cyrist communities, even in 1938, where it will not matter one tiny bit that your wife is white. Where the two of you can make a difference, rather than being second-class citizens for the next four decades.”
Abel is still pointing the gun upward toward the door, but I can see his face. Simon has his attention. He’s listening. He’s thinking about it.
“He’s lying,” I hiss. When Abel doesn’t look at me, and I grab Delia’s arm. “You heard Kiernan, Delia. The only reason Simon’s here—”
I don’t get anything else out, because Kiernan’s hand is over my mouth. “Kate,” he whispers, “you need to get out of here, love.”
Simon keeps talking, elaborating on this bright, shiny Cyrist future he can offer them, as I struggle against Kiernan.
Delia looks over at me, an apology in her eyes. Then she yells up at Simon, “What about the woman those men are holding? If we leave with you, do they let her go?”
“Sorry, Delia. That’s an entirely separate situation, a mistake that should have been corrected long ago.”
“Then no deal!” Delia says.
“She speaking for you, too, Abel?”
“Absolutely,” Abel fires back. “No deal unless you guarantee her safety along with ours. I have no ties to Katherine, and I wouldn’t be in this damned hole right now if her granddaughter hadn’t screwed things up. But Martha put her neck on the line for us, and I don’t betray friends.”
Abel doesn’t even glance my way, so I don’t know how much of what he’s saying is truth and how much is negotiation.
“That part’s out of my control, Abel—”
“Bullshit!” Kiernan says. “What are you now, Simon? Just Saul’s errand boy? Since when do you check every decision with him? You can do whatever you want. Let her and Joe get into the truck with his brother, and all three of us leave with you. Saul will never know the bloody difference, unless you’re dumb enough to tell him.”
“What about Kate?” Simon says.
“Kate blinked out the second she heard your voice. Don’t know where she’s going, but I should probably tell you she has a gun.”
“Oh wow I’m so scared,” he says in a flat voice. “Seriously, Kiernan, what makes you think I’m in control of those idiots out front? All I did was tell them where you were. Otherwise, this is their little party, and I doubt they’ll let her go unless Abel gives himself up in her place. He’s the only reason most of them are here.”
“Yeah, right, Simon. How much did you pay that guy to grab Martha? You already admitted as much. Slip him another twenty—”
“You’re missing the point, Kier.” Simon starts rattling on about how it’s easy to start a mob but not so easy to stop it. Abel and Delia are arguing back and forth with him, but I can no longer follow the conversation, because Kiernan is talking into my ear.
“Save Martha, Kate. You know where she’ll be. Get her and Joe to his brother’s farm. Then go back home.”
He pulls his hand away from my mouth, slowly. I turn to face him, but I guess he can tell I’m still not convinced.
“I can do more on Saul’s side than I can on Pru’s. Trust me, and just go. Please.”
“I could trust you more if you’d tell me everything, Kiernan. What are you hiding?”
“When I can tell you, I will. When I know for certain. I promise—”
“On her wedding band.”
He inhales sharply, and I add, “I don’t care whether you drew that ring onto her finger from memory or from your imagination. Promise me on that, and I’ll believe you.”
He grabs my left hand and presses his lips to the ring finger. “I promise, Kate. Just go.”
I pull up the stable point on the far side of the house, the one Kiernan and I set before hiding the cars. Right now, at 1:19 a.m., the only thing I can see at that point is the side of an Oconee County sheriff’s vehicle, so I guess that answers Delia’s question. I don’t know how the police may affect the negotiations with Simon, so I show it to Kiernan. Then I roll the time back to 1:09 a.m., just as Joe locks us into the cellar, and blink out.
I didn’t realize how much we’d been able to hear in that cellar. It was hard to make out anything clearly, but there was a steady hum of noise from the cars above and from all of the shouting. Now, the farm is eerily quiet.
I run around to the back of the house and see Martha’s silhouette through the window. I tap quickly on the door and then open it.
She gasps. “Holy moly, Kate, you scared me! I thought Joe—” Then she glances down at the key around my neck and says, “Oh. That thing again.”
“Get Joe. The two of you need to go to his brother’s house.”
“I don’t think he’ll come, Kate. Joe ain’t the type to just leave those people undefended, or the farm undefended, for that matter. Me neither. We can’t just up and leave when—”
“Martha, this is the only way everyone gets out alive.” I try to keep the doubt out of my voice, because I don’t trust Simon, not at all. “Can you drive?”
“What? Yes, but—”
“I’ll convince Joe. You get the truck.” I reach in my pocket for the keys to Kiernan’s truck, but she’s already heading for their own truck, parked next to the barn.
“Do you have your keys?”
“In the truck!” she yells back, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, and I can’t help but think that car theft must be really, really easy in 1938.
Joe is confused when he sees me, but he must have already accepted that something out of the ordinary is going on, because he never questioned how I knew that the mob would be coming through his gate in twenty minutes. All it takes to get him to leave is telling him that one of those men will soon have a gun to Martha’s head.
They’re gone less than a minute when the first truck rolls into the front yard. The headlights shine through the curtains, and the driver revs the motor. I hear someone, Willis I presume, stomping up the front steps, and then he bangs on the door hard enough to rattle the windows.
I can’t just accept that Simon will keep his word, but there’s no reason I have to watch events play out from here. I’ll have a much safer, much clearer view from my bedroom.
My phone buzzes in my pocket as soon as I blink into the room, but I ignore it and drop to the floor in front of my bed, clutching my key so tightly that the edge cuts into my palm. I’m suddenly queasy, and my head is spinning. It’s almost like the sensation when there’s a time shift, but it passes after a moment. Probably stress, lack of sleep, and too much caffeine.
When I’ve recovered enough to bring up the stable point at the cellar, I see three men with Simon, their guns drawn. One of them is Willis, and one is the guy who was holding the gun on Martha. A large black car is behind them, and someone I don’t recognize is at the wheel.
The one good thing about being the person who actually changes an event is that you walk away without the confusion, as long as you don’t run into your other self along the way. I remember that guy holding a gun to Martha. I also remember Martha driving away in the truck with Joe. Both things happened, but it doesn’t feel like they happened at the same time, because for me, they didn’t.
That’s not the case for Delia, Abel, and Kiernan. They all look disoriented as they climb up from the cellar. So does Simon, but I count that in the good-news column.
Kiernan is the first up, and he still has the Colt drawn. Abel comes up the ladder behind him, and one of the men steps forward to grab Abel. Kiernan shouts at him and raises the gun, moving it back and forth between the men until Abel and Delia are both in the car. Simon seems to be yelling at Kiernan, something I can’t make out, because all I can see is the back of his head now. Kiernan glares back and says something that includes “bloody hell” and a few other obscenities.