The Gettysburg Zone Part 13

Paul looked like hell as he sat outside the examining room. His features were haggard and his chest seemed all caved in like someone had knocked the wind out of him. His clothes were wrinkled and dishevelled. Marjorie came back from the vending machine with two coffees, handing one to him. Richard had wisely opted to stay at home and pray. Paul took the coffee and sat up staighter to drink it. It was well past three in the morning.. The doctors were setting the broken leg and she'd be transfered to I.C.U. She had a couple of broken ribs and a lascerated kidney. As he suspected, she'd suffered multiple skull fractures and she hadn't woken up. She's been put on a respirator immediately, but no one could rule out the possiblility that she might never wake up. And, if she did there might be brain damage. So far the babies were fine, but that, too, was subject to change. Babies! She hadn't even had the chance to tell him she was carrying twins! They were startled out of their individual deep thoughts by a white coated doctor holding a silver clip board.
Paul got a case of the cold sweats. "She's..."
"Alive? Yes. The respirator is breathing for her for now. When her condition stabilizes a bit more, we'll take her off it and see if she can breathe on her own." The doctor didn't look real hopeful. "I think you need to come to grips with the facts. She might never breathe on her own."
"No!" Marjorie yelled and Paul put his hand on her shoulder. "You've got to do something!"
"We've done all we can do for now, Mrs. Hampton. All we can do is wait."
"Does she feel pain?" Paul asked.
"There's still a lot we don't know about the workings of the brain, Mr. Jefferson. But all research tells us that the senses still function on a subconscious level. Karen probably feels pain but can't respond to it. We do know that she can hear. So never say anything negative. If she thinks she's dying, it's quite possible that she will." He gave them a tired smile. "If you want to help her, talk to her about happy things. Stimulate special memories but...most of all, give her a reason to come back. A good place to start is the babies. They need their mother to come back."
Richard Hampton froze at the door to Karen's room. She was dwarfed by the machines, tubes and wires all around her. The steady hiss of the respiratior was intimidating. Marjorie shoved him in a little farther, reminding him that he'd done that to the only only touch of perfection in their lives and he had to help make it right. A nurse looked up from the chart in her hands and smiled at him. Not many people smiled at him anymore. She gently lifted his daughter's limp hand and took her pulse. She replaced it just as gently and pulled a chair up to the side of the bed. He sat in it and stroked Karen's arm. There was another machine in the crowded room monitoring the vital signs of the twins she carried. No one even knew about that until...until she was brought to the hospital. He felt tears spill down his cheek and he was angry with himself. What right did he have to cry for her? He was the reason she was there! Did she hate him enough to run away from him back in June? The doctor's said that her senses were probably functioning on a subconscious level. Did she hate him now? Was hate even a sense? No. Hate was an emotion. And she didn't have emotions anymore. He carefully took her hand between his. A simple gold band shimmered in the muted hospital light. What in the world could he ever say to make her want to come back to this world...especially is he was a part of it?
"Karen, I'm so...so sorry. You can do this! There's nothing you can't accomplish!" He put her delicate hand to his lips. He saw her brow furrow and he carefully replaced her hand on the bed beside her. His own daughter didn't want him and she was in a coma! He ran from that room in tears!
Marjorie watched her husband run from the room like his britches were on fire. She'd been watching through the plate glass and she knew that Karen hadn't woken up and cussed her father out. Secretly she wished that it had happened just that way. But when she sat down in the chair that Richard had vacated, her heart fell. There's been no change in three days. The thought of a tube stuck into her daughter's air passages...even though it was keeping her alive...was heartwrenching. What was the point in keeping her alive? Then she remembered the babies and she absently rubbed her hand over Karen's stomach. But what about after they were delivered? How would they ever let her go? She thought about her mother's nursing books and remembered visits to nursing homes where young and old alike had existed in vegetative states. It wasn't living. When the plug was pulled they slipped quietly into the arms of God, right? Suddenly Marjorie Hampton felt anger. God couldn't have her yet! She wanted her daughter to live and raise her children! Raise them a damned sight better than Richard had allowed her to raise Karen!
Paul brought the biggest bouquet he could find and put it on the stand by her bed. Maybe she could smell them, even if she couldn't see them. They told him that there was swelling of the brain and no one seemed hopeful. They were keeping her alive so that the babies had a better chance of survival. He felt the lump threatening to close off his own windpipe. He had put those babies inside of her! Now he had to make the choice no husband ever wanted to do. He had to choose between his wife, lover and soulmate and his children! He'd thought about that for a long time. There would be other children. But would she ever forgive him for choosing her over their children? He couldn't let her go! He had too much to say to her. He hadn't even told her he loved her yet! Her head was bandaged to keep the bits of skull immobile. Her beautiful long blond hair had been carefully shaved off. Did you think this came from a bottle, she asked him as she stood in front of him offering him the two things she had to give that were irreplaceable: her virginity and her heart.
Two weeks had gone by since Karen's fall. Paul had called the group to meet in her hospital room. All seven were reunited again, but one didn't even know they were there. They had come to say their goodbyes to the one member of their group who had paid enough attention in American History to get them all through something that none could even tell their grandchildren about! No, Karen wouldn't be even allowed to pass away quietly. If she couldn't survive without the respirator she would be whisked away to surgery and the babies delivered. Paul and her parents just wanted to know what they had to look forward to. It wasn't that they wanted to rush the process. They just needed to know if she had a chance of coming back. Mike held Robin tightly. She had already told him that she didn't want to actually watch them pull the plug. She just wanted to bury her head in his shoulder and stay until it was over because she owed her friend that much. George had made a copy of the "ownership" papers Angus has forged for her and pressed the copy into her hand. Traci had brought an ankh symbol and laid it on the pillow next to Karen's head. If there was such a thing as an afterlife and reincarnation, she knew Karen would make certain that they met again...even if it was only to preach at her! Chris was the last to step up to the bed. He didn't have anything for her except his words that she was too big of a pain in the ass to let go now. Marjorie squeezed Paul's hand as they removed the respirator. Some prayed. Some meditated. All cried. But none expected Karen to survive. She did.
February was the shortest month in the year. Why did it seem to drag out so long? Without Marjorie Hampton to lean on Paul was certain that he would've lost it the night of the accident. He couldn't prove that he was married to Karen so he had no rights! He wanted to go down to the courthouse and pull the 1863 records and slam them down on the doctor's desk. But he seriously doubted that anyone would validate that and he couldn't help her if he was in a straight jacket. Karen's mother was a nice woman. If he didn't tell someone who didn't already know, he'd surely lose his mind. Maybe she could help him. The nurses showed him how to move Karen's arms and legs to keep her muscles from hardening or tiurning to mush or whatever muscles did. Sometimes Mrs. Hampton helped him. He had to get her helpwith some far more important!
"Mrs. Hampton?" Paul was rubbing Karen's feet just for something to do. "If I told you where we were and that we were married...but I couldn't prove it...what would you do?"
She kissed her daughter's forehead and sat down in the chair by the bed. "Try me."
"We were married on June thirtieth...1863."
"Karen said y'all weren't on drugs. You said 1863, Paul."
He took a deep breath and looked into Marjorie's eyes. "Karen nursed the casualties. I helped bury the dead. We saw Abraham Lincoln give his Gettysburg Address. Ask any one of us and you'll get the same story." he assured her. But he saw the look in her eyes. She thought he was nuts. Then he remembered the ownership papers! It was only a copy but it was a start! He opened the nightstand but it wasn't there. Tears overflowed his eyes. "Mrs. Hampton, I can't prove any of this. I might never be able to. But the God she believes in knows it's true!"
"What can I do, Paul?"
"Sign a notarized statement declaring me her husband. I want my kids legitimate!"



February 26th dawned cold and blustery. Paul sat straight up in his bed in the small apartment he rented on Buford Avenue. He was shivering from the cold sweat that trickled over his bare skin. He forced himself out of bed and was brushing his teeth when the phone rang. He picked it up and hesitantly put it to his ear. He heard Marjorie hampton's shakey voice and his heart sank. "What's wrong?" He sat down on the bed.
"She's leaving us, Paul."
"What?!?" Already he was tugging on his pants. "She was fine..."
"They want to do an emergency C-section. It's your call." She heard the phone line go dead and she knew that he was on his way to meet her at the hospital.
They entered the room at the same time. The respirator was back. Karen's blood pressure had started dropping in the middle of the night. She wasn't responding to any of the medicine deemed safe for the unborn babies. They were two months shy of full term but they seemed strong. No one would know forsure until they were delivered, but Karen was dying. If they okayed the C-section, Karen could still die but her chances did improve a little. Marjorie prayed. Paul carefully crawled into the tiny bed with her and cradled her damaged head against his chest. He told her that he didn't know what to do. He didn't know what to do without her. He would love the twins because they were a part of both of them, the consummation of a love he wasn't ready for and was just as unready to let go of. He watched Marjorie extract a homemade cassette from her purse. She swiped tears with the back of her hand as she placed it in the recorder on the nightstand. Paul hadn't even noticed it. She must've stayed up all night going over songs that she thought fit Karen and some that might help her come back. She moved the chair to the opposite side of the bed and gripped her daughter's hand. The first song was "Wild One" by Faith Hill. Paul looked down at he serene features of his wife and lover. She definitely had an angels' face. "The Way That You Love Me" by Paula Abdul. That fit, too, because she wasn't a material type of person. Then came "Father Figure" by George Michael followed by "I Want Your Sex".
"Mrs. Hampton I didn't want this to happen!" he exclaimed as that song started.
"It did. And call me Margie." Her voice held no judgement.
"I didn't want to pop...uh...I didn't want to be her first!"
His revelation made her smile. Chip Jackson lost a hell of a lot in that coatroom. Her daughter wasn't a cheerleader. She had more intellectual aspirations. Karen knew how to think and she didn't need to think with anything but her brain. Too bad Chip hadn't learned that. Paula Abdul began "Opposites Attract" and it fit Paul and Karen so well. No, he didn't smoke, but he probably stole the covers. "So...she was a virgin."
Paul blushed through his tears. "Yeah. She wanted me and I..."
She giggled. "You took it."
"She stepped out of her jeans and...and it's still a blur."
She laughed harder. "She stepped out of her jeans? You didn't take them off?" Well, maybe it wasn't her brain she was thinking with that night.
Paul was uncomfortable. "Mrs. Hampton....Margie...I was so mad when I found out that she was ch-...uh...a virgin."
"But you didn't stop?"
"I'd already gone too far and I couldn't give it back." He saw her tears from laughter and he laughed, too. "You're like her. You're enjoying this too much."
"She hears us. She's enjoying it, too." The next three songs were Paula Abdul's: "State Of Attraction", "I Need You" and "Forever Your Girl"."She didn't tell you that she'd never...made love?"
"No! I would've never!"
"Never?"
"Well, since we seem to be playing truth or dare...one sided as it may be...I gave up on having sex with Karen. She pulled away so many times. But part of me didn't want to stop seeing her. She was...she is a lady. She can cuss like a sailor when she's mad but..."
Marjorie interjected. "My Karen can cuss?"
"Only when she's mad...or when she thinks it'll get my attention. Never the Lord's name in vain. Her faith is way too strong."
"But the flesh is weak."
He kissed Karen's cheek. "You raised her fine. She got me into God. But she had needs and...damn! She was in love with me and I was too blind to see it because her love was the purest I've ever seen. Not like my folks. If we had been able to come home that night..." he stopped.
She put her head down for a few seconds. When she looked up, tears glistened even more on her cheeks. "Have I Got A Deal For You" finished and "Just A Little Love" by Reba McEntire started. "Richard would've had a fit. I would've been upset. But she loves you, Paul. You do love her, don't you?"
His tears speeded up as he kissed Karen's cheek. "More than life itself...but I never told her that. Reba's right. She does bring a touch of perfection, doesn't she?"
"Always has, Paul." They listened to the music in silence for awhile. The last two songs were more Paula Abdul. "Next To You" and "Straight Up". She listened as Paul sang the latter to Karen. She heard the stomp of heavy footsteps. Richard Hamptom came through the doors only to stop cold at the sight of Paul Jefferson in his daughter's hospital bed with her. Marjorie ushered him outside before he could say anything.
"What is he doing?!?"
"Karen's dying, Richard. They have to take the babies or they die, too." She wanted to tell him more but doctors and nurses came barreling down the hall straight for Karen's room.
Paul came out, shaking and crying. He accepted Marjorie's arms of support but he glared at her husband. "She flatlined. I've gotta go get scrub up to watch our kids be delivered. Stay...please?"
There was never any doubt that Marjorie would stay, but the fact that Paul wanted her there was a great compliment. She sat in the waiting area with Richard in silence. She didn't have much to say to him these days. Suddenly the thought occured to her that Karen wouldn't want her death to tear her parents apart. Richard looked terrible. She knew that he slept very little. The dark circles relayed that to anyone out of the loop. He hadn't shaved in two or three days. His eyes were red rimmed. She reached over and took his hand. "She doesn't blame you, Richard."
He sniffled. "How do you know? She never regained consciousness."
"I know Karen. She loves you, Richard. She always has. That's why she's always tried so hard to be the best she could be for you. She's in love and she's about to be a mother, but...but deep inside she's still her daddy's little girl."
He swallowed hard but he couldn't keep the tears at bay. "Even when she's about to die? This is such a failure!"
Marjorie let go of his hand, feeling anger at what she thought was going to be another one of his Biblical tirades against Karen. "Don't start, Richard. Not now! Karen didn't fail."
"No...she didn't. I did."
It was cold in the operating room. Something about keeping down germs. The antiseptic smell assaulted his nostrils even through the surgical mask. He couldn't watch them cut into her. Wasn't very good with blood. Saw enough of it at the Battle of Gettysburg. It didn't seem like any time at all until the room was filled with the lusty cries of a newborn. It was a girl. The nurse took her away and did whatever they did to newborns. The room was tense. He looked over the drape. The doctor was working on the second baby, a boy. There was no cry for a long time. He didn't like the look in the doctors eyes. When the cry finally came it was very weak. He felt sick and numb as the doctor explained that his son's lungs weren't developed enough. Of course everything possible was being done, but it didn't look good. Then they hurried him out of the room. They were going to suture her up and then drill into her skull to relieve the pressure and stop the bleeding. That didn't look good either. His whole world was crashing down around his ears and there wasn't a fucking thing he could do about it!
Paul slammed out of the operating room and strode down the hall toward the waiting room where the Hamptons waited for him. Damn! They were sitting there so innocent and he was gonna knock the props right out from under them! Suddenly he was beating the wall over and over again, oblivious to the pain or the blood running down his wrists. Marjorie grabbed his shoulders and he slid to the floor, coming to rest on his knees. Helooked up at Richard. Part of him hated the man for what happened but Paul hated himself for what he was about to say to him. "Go to the nursery. Go now! Baptize my son before he dies. There's not much time."



Richard Hampton had never felt so alone and hurt in his life as when he baptized his grandson and watched him slip away. Karen had been born at seven and a half months but she was a real fighter. His granddaughter didn't have her mother's coloring but she seemed to have her spirit. If Karen died now it would be his fault just like he thought it was his fault that his grandson didn't live. But if she survived, she would go through life with the pain of knowing what he'd done to her and the son she never even got to hold. She couldn't forgive him. He knew that. He couldn't even forgive herself. Marjorie looked at him differently from those days when they were first married. When she went into premature labor with Karen there was no obvious reason for it. But they had prayed and held each other and Karen had been born with nothing worse than a case of jaundice and the anemia that would follow her all of her life. God had listened. Why hadn't he listened to God? Why was it so important to control the only child he would have and, worse, why had he used God to do it? Was that why things were going so badly? No! He was doing it again! This wasn't about him! It was about his little girl and her child and the loss of her child. He needed to go to God on her behalf for once. He didn't wait for the chapel. As soon as he stepped outside of the nursery he hit his knees in prayer. He always knew that no one could bargain with God. Or at least they shouldn't. He knew what most people did. God, give me what I ask for and I'll go to church every Sunday, I'll be a better person, etc., etc.. Somehow the prayer gets answered and they might keep their end of the bargain for awhile, but it usually fizzled. But this was his daughter! He couldn't not bargain with God...with the only thing he had to offer: letting go.
"Dear God, I've been so wrong. I admit it. I ask your forgiveness and hers. I promise that I will try my best to let go and let her grow. I'll give her the right to choose her paths in life. I messed up and I know that my grandson is in your arms, but it's going to hurt my baby girl so much. Help me to win her forgiveness and her trust again. And make me a better father and grandfather. In Jesus' name I pray. Amen" He got up and looked into the nursery at his granddaughter. Could he ever make things right? With his daughter or his wife? He didn't ask God's intervention on the latter because he felt that his wife would eventually come around if their daughter survived. When she survived. He had to believe that his daughter would live.



Paul left the hospital in a daze. He was walking but he had no idea of where he was going. He'd left his jacket in Karen's hospital room. She was in recovery but all of the optimism was frozen in time. It was fifty fifty. Hell! He might as well flip a freakin' coin! If he walked out of the hospital she could be gone when he got back. If he didn't, he would have a breakdown. His son was in the morgue. His wife was in critical condition. His daughter was the only bright spot because she she was fighting like hell and the odds were that she would survive. For that he was grateful. He truly was. But the rest of it was making him question everything Karen had tried so hard to burn into his brain. And it was starting to take root before the accident. Now he didn't know what he believed or if he believed. He needed time away from the sound of respirators and dropping trays and crash carts! He needed some time to gather his thoughts and try to get back wahat she gave him before he lost it all. He needed a sign of some kind and he couldn't focus in the hospital. He wasn't sure that he could pray to a God who could do all of this, but he knew it would offend her in every way possible if he didn't try. No, she showed no sign of knowing anything. She wasn't brain dead...yet..and she might not ever be that severe. But in his heart he knew that she would know if he lost his way over her. And if she did slip away, she would probably haunt him forever. Damn! He'd seen the past. He knew anything was possible. Her haunting him wouldn't be that unpleasant but he wanted her to get to those pearly gates or whatever there was at the end of life. Heaven?
Did he believe in that? Then he remembered yet again that it wasn't what he believed. What mattered was what she believed.
He couldn't make the arrangements for his son's funeral. Marjorie had hugged him tightly and assured him that she would take care of everything. He'd named him Scott for Angus but he didn't have a middle name. Marjorie Hampton was such a treasure. Paul knew that her heart was breaking, too. If Karen didn't make it, he was afraid it would kill his mother-in-law. He looked around to see where he was when something in the window of what he'd always referred to a junk shop caught his eye. It was an old cradle. You could tell that the person who made it had been a craftsman. It was hand carved with beautiful dove tail joints. He remembered that from wood shop back in high school. But it wasn't the scrollwork or the dovetails that made him go into the Antique shop on Chambersburg Street. It was the name lovingly carved into the headboard: JEFFERSON. The lady told him that she didn't know the name of the artisan, but she did know that it had been found in the attic of a house out on the Taneytown Road. part of the house had burned In the mid seventies, the park service bought it and contracted somebody to tear it down. There was a letter that was found with it. The wax seal was still intact. The scrawl on the envelope made shivers run up and down his spine like ants at a picnic. It was a first and last name and Paul remembered the hand-writing far too well. The name was oh so familiar, too. Karen Jefferson! He didn't even question the price of three hundred dollars but the lady that owned the shop knocked fifty bucks off the price when she saw the name Jefferson on the check her gave her. He walked back his car and drove to the shop to pick up the cradle. After placing it and the letter in the living room of his Buford Avenue apartment, he drove back to the hospital tosit with his wife.
Karen had been back in her room for about an hour by the time he got back. The respirator sat quiet in the corner of the room, ready to be put into service at a moment's notice. The fact she wasn't hooked up to it at that minute had to be a good thing, right? It seemed odd to see her not pregnant. They should've gone to chikdbirth classes. He'd heard that women cussed out their husbands in delivery. Fate took that away from her just like it took their son. The bright white bandage around her head made her look deathly pale. She wouldn't be happy about being bald but he knew they'd shaved her head. He sat down in the chair next to the bed and rested his head on the bed. He told her about the cradle and the letter. He told her how beautiful their daughter was. He'd named her Heather Anne, after the Scottish heather of Angus's homeland. No, she didn't have blond hair, but she did have a lot of dark fuzz. Tears started to flow and they wouldn't stop! He didn't mention the loss of their son. The doctors were always stressing how important it was to stay positive when talking to her! There was so much they had to say to each other. So much they had to do! She couldn't leave him! How would he raise their daughter? How would he know what to say when she got her first period? Or worse...what would he say if she was sixteen and missed one? Who was going to stop him from stomping the shit out of the first guy that kept her out five seconds after curfew? He was babbling and he didin't care!
"Why didn't I tell you how much I love you? That you are the one bright spot in my life?" He didn't even realize that he was raising his voice because he was too angry with himself.
A gentle hand stroked the back of his neck. The voice was soft and a little weak. "Maybe because I already knew. Maybe you showed me with everything you did and every effort you made. And because I don't think I could love anyone who didn't love me in return. And I love you."
His head shot up and his eyes locked onto the most beautiful blue eyes he'd ever seen and didn't think he'd ever see again. "Honey! You're back!"
"Never left. You're no Paula Abdul...straight up. But I am forever your girl. You know that, right?"
"I think I knew it from day one, baby! You heard that?"
"Yeah. Oh, yeah! You won't soon forget that, darling."
He wiped tears from his eyes and pressed her hand to his cheek. "You can make fun of me 24/7 as long as you don't leave me again!"
She motioned for some ice, fearing that water might not stay down. The ice wet her parched throat sufficiently. "Our daughter better not miss a period until she's married...or I'll kill him!"
Paul saw the sparkle of blue fire in her eyes and believed that she meant every word. "Easy, babe! You need to stay calm," he joked. "The world is waiting."
She crunched a little more ice. "For what?"
"The white light. You know...you flatlined. Didn't you see anyone telling you to go back?"
She didn't want to think about any of that. There was one thing in the back of her mind but she made herself believe that it wasn't real. "No. Nothing. My grandparents on both sides are living. No relatives to turn me away. No white lights." She shivered because she wasn't a very good liar. "I guess I wasn't as close as everybody thought."
"You sure scared the hell...uh...the heck out of us."
"Did my mom look at you weird when you told her about 1863?" she asked softly.
Paul laughed. "Like they were coming to get me any minute! You heard that, too?"
She nodded. "All of it. Did you have to tell her that I took off my jeans first? That's my mother!"
"I wanted her to know the truth."
"Did she really need to know that I seduced you?" she asked as she raised the head of her bead just a little.
"She needed to know that you were a virgin and that I'm gonna be your last." He could tell by her eyes that she wasn't quite convinced. "What you did wasn't wrong, baby. I was too blind..,"
She put her finger to his lips. "If I wanted you to know, I would've told you straight out. I came out of one bad relationship and I wasn't ready for what I felt for you. I thought we could just be physical and I would go off to college and sort everything out. I didn't get the chance."
"And now?" he asked, truly afraid of her answer.
"You're not gettin' rid of me, Mr. Jefferson. We were married in the eyes of God. But you'd better kiss me right now before I change my mind!"
He felt reborn in that kiss. He would never again go a day without letting her know in some way that he loved her. "Lady, I love you so much!" He saw her brows furrow and he could tell she was in pain. "Karen, what's wrong?"
She put her left hand to her forehead. "That had to have been a hangover!"
"Huh? You lost me."
"At Angus's. My head is killing me now. It didn't hurt near that much at Angus's. What happened to my head this time? I remember...very damned little."
"You have a skull fracture. Actually several. But let's talk about that later. It'll only upset you." He saw a glimmer begin in her eyes. He'd seen fear, anger, laughter and raw sexiness in her eyes. But he'd never seen them grow cold and hard before. It was frightening. She was remembering on her own and it was really pissing her off! "Karen, baby, it was an accident! I was angry at first but I replayed it in my head."
"If he just hadn't put his hands on me..."
"I-I should call a doctor or something!"
She shook her head and grimaced at the pain it caused. "Not yet. Heather is...okay?"
He knew what was coming. "Yeah, but the boy didn't make it. I named him Scott. His lungs didn't work. It could've been because of the fever and the pnuemonia. The funeral's tomorrow."
She took a deep breath and swallowed hard. Her head hurt and now her heart did, too. "I think you'd better get that doctor now."

The Gettysburg Zone Part 12

The house was dark when Marjorie and Richard arrived from Richmond. Karen had promised not to leave. Richard took all the heavy luggage in while she grabbed the light stuff. She heard the Charger pull up. When she turned around, she saw Paul open the door for Karen. She'd told her that she was only five or six months along! She looked so much bigger than that! He handed her some shopping bags and then she kissed him. Marjorie felt her chest constrict. Karen was kissing him with more passion than Marjorie gave Richard! She cleared her throat and Karen froze. She whipsered something to him and stroked the side of his face before turning toward the house with the bags. Marjorie watched Paul meditate for an instant and then get into the Charger and drive off. She surveyed her daughter's condition and frowned. "Five or six months?"
Karen looked at the doubt in her mother's eyes and felt her heart crack a little. Her mother was the only one besides Paul who'd ever believed in her. But she wouldn't back down on this issue. She thought that she'd might've gotten pregnant on her wedding night. "Yes, Mom. Roughly June thirtieth...maybe as late as July twentieth."
They started up the steps and Marjorie watched her daughter walk into the foyer. "The doctor doesn't know?"
Karen made the left into the living room. "I haven't been to a doctor yet and I was there." Before her mother could say anything in response, Karen felt herself being hauled up by the back of her jogging suit. The hand that cracked along the side of her face was massive and it didn't stop. Before she saw her mother grab the invader she guessed she'd been hit three times. She thought her nose might be broken because of the amount of blood and snot that coursed down over her lips. She took the hankerchief her mother offered as she led her to the couch. She sat down and held her head back as per her mother's instructions while Marjorie Hampton ran for ice. Didn't they say that a broken nose gave one character? Again... who were they? She pressed the ice to her nose and felt the throbbing in her brain ease up a smidge. Nothing like an enthusiastic welcome home, she thought. But she knew better than to vocalize such a thought.
Richard Hampton paced fanticaly in front of his daughter. She'd betrayed him, her faith and his generosity. "Don't you fear God, girl?"
Karen discovered that too much pressure on her nose made her see double. "Not as much as I fear you, Dad," she replied honestly.
"You take off and have the whole congregation holding prayer vigils for your safe return." He clenched his fist and slammed it into his palm.. "Then you come back like this and make a fool of me."
"It was beyond my control. All of it. I awear!"
"He raped you and held you hostage until he was sure you were pregnant?" her mother chimed in.
"No!" The ice was reducing the pain to a dull ache. The bleeding was reduced to a dribble so she brought her head down but held the hankerchief to catch it.
"Well, I think the police will agree with that scenario," Richard threatened.
"Chris, Mike, Paul, Gearge Robin and Traci know what I'm telling you is the God's truth." Karen saw her mother wince at the last name.
"What, Mom?"
"Traci Cord? The lesbian?"
Karen felt sick. "Mom, it's not what you think!"
"Jezebel! Harlot! Did you let all of them have their way with you?" her father spit out finally. She shook her head furiously. "Then tell me where you were!"
"I-I can't, daddy. You would never believe me!"
Richard Hampton breathed heavily. "Did I not say under my roof, my rules?"
Her head was starting to hurt. She'd told Paul to come back for her in two hours. She needed at least a half hour's nap and another half hour to pack. "Yes, sir," she agreed as she got up. "That's why I'm leaving your house tonight."
When Karen woke up it was well past dark. Paul had never shown and she didn't have a back up plan. She made two calls to Paul's house and was hung up on both times. She didn't know how to contact anyone but Traci. And Traci hadn't seen Paul since they came home. Before she hung up, she had Traci's promise that she would try to track him down for her. She hoped that he hadn't left for Philadelphia for the construction job. But as the night wore on into the wee hours of the morning, she got a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. Paul was gone without her. She finally fell asleep ar four thirty. When she woke up at ten thirty a.m., Karen had entered yet another twilight zone and she would find herself stuck in that one for the better part of two months. Richard Hampton had slipped out the front door without anyone noticing. By the time he slipped back inside, Paul Jefferson was on his way out of town, heading off for Philadelphia. He'd promised to explain all of that to his daughter. But that was a promise that he would conveniently forget. The next day was Friday. He was make a quiet call to the phone company and have the home number changed and unlisted. Out of sight, out of mind. It never occured to him that absence makes the heart grow fonder would be more accurate in Karen's case. No, he wasn't thrilled about being made a grandfather under the circumstances but that was a minor detail. He needed to get her head back on the right track: her salvation. And with Paul Jefferson out of the picture, things would go back to normal. She'd sowm her wild oats. Now it was back to the status quo.
Paul Jefferson sat in a hotel room in Philadelphia and poured out his heart to his wife on paper every night. Christmas was just another day to him While folks got outrageously drunk on New's Year's Eve, he sat alone in the same hotel room drinking a six pack and watching Dick Clark on television. He'd tried calling but he was getting real tired of hearing the same message over and oever again: the number you have reached is no longer in service. But his heart started to break when all the letters he'd sent started coming back marked "return to sender". He was worried but he just couldn't go back broke. He wanted to provide for her and the baby and that meant money. When he was flush with cash he'd return to Gettysburg and make her see that he was doing everything for her.
Marjorie made sure that Karen got regular medical checkups. With Karen's history of anemia, it was important that she get good medical care. They'd kept paying the premiums on the health insurance Karen had signed up for when she took the job at the church. Good thing, too. With Paul vanishing into thin air, Karen needed all the help she could get. If she had him close to her, she'd wring his neck! Eveyday she saw her daughter's spirit break a little more. Karen loved Paul, but he obviously didn't share that emotion. If he did, he wouldn't have left Karen alone and pregnant. The bright spot in the whole ordeal was how well Richard was taking the situation. He had stopped using words like Jezebel and harlot. He made it quite clear that Karen needed to repent but he didn't browbeat her into it. But for the life of them, they couldn't get Karen to open up about where she'd been or why. Her response was always the same. They wouldn't believe her.



Karen went through her day to day existance in a daze. It was unthinkable that she could have been dumped so unceremoniously. And all they'd been through together, too. See if she'd ever go time tripping with him again, she thought to herself. If she didn't work hard at keeping her sense of humor, warped though it was, she knew she'd lose her mind! She also couldn't stop thinking about Angus MacTavish. What did he think when they just vanished into thin air? It must've broken the old man's heart! Then she comes home to break her parents' hearts, getting her own broken in return. It was neverending circle of pain. The only two time travellers who didn't seem to be affected negatively by their skip to and from the past was Robin McNeal and Mike Nichols. They were getting married in the summer...during a re-enactment, no less! Well, Traci Cord was still the same, much to Karen's chagrin. And George Anderson had been humbled by his experience. All the angry rap music no longer appealled to him. He knew what it was truly like to be in chains, even imaginary ones. He knew that he had a much kinder "Mistress" than most and he saw the looks on the faces of those who risked their lives for freedom from the monsters they knew as Masters. He had seen first hand the Underground Railroad. But what had had the most powerful effect on him was the realization that taking a life, even the life of a cruel white man, didn't make it any better. And Chris Connors? Nothing could change him. It was best just to ignore him. And Karen did just that.
There was snow on February tenth. She had to be very careful navigating the steep steps at her parent's house. Her mother was driving her to her doctor's appointment at he medical building by Annie M. Warner Hospital. She had very little interest in what was being said and only spoke when absolutely necessary. She did listen when the doctor gave her an approximate due date. She had concieved sometime toward the end of July and the due date was in mid-April. But she still felt way too big and uncomfortable. She just wanted it to be over. The doctor had insisted that she do yet another sonogram and she had done it that morning. She didn't notice anything particularly different. The baby's heartbeat still sounded like awashing machine on crystal meth. Lord, she hoped and prayed that she'd start feeling something soon! Adoption was not an option for her, a fact that her father strongly disagreed with. She wanted to be able to love and cherish her own child...like she loved the baby's father. It would be so much easier if he was there with her to share in it. But she didn't think he was coming back.
"Did you hear me, Ms. Hampton?" Dr. Gregory asked.
Karen snapped herself out of her dreamlike state. She never let her mother go in to the examining room with her. "No, I'm sorry. I didn't. What did you say?" He began explaining that a fetus can sometimes "hide" in a sonogram behind it's sibling so there appear to be only one when, in fact,there were two. She could only stare at what had to be a crazy man sitting at the desk across from her! "You're telling me that I'm having twins?!?!?"
"You said you quit the pill suddenly and didn't use any alternate means of contraceptive. It's possible that your ovaries released two eggs instead of one."
He was such a patient man but she didn't want technical at that very moment. She wanted errors and mistakes. Someone needed to tell her that it was just one little boy or girl and not a whole frigging litter! "I-I can't deal with this right now!" She got up and ran from the office and didn't stop until she was out in the frosty February air. Her mother ran to catch up with her. "I need to go home and lie down."
"But you didn't get your next appointment date," Marjorie said as she unlocked the door.She didn't like the darkness in her daughter's eyes. "Should I go back in?"
"I'll call for the damned thing. Right now, I need to go home, Mother!"
Marjorie picked up a UPS package that had been delivered while they were gone. Karen unlocked the door, took the inside stairs two at a time and slammed her bedroom door. Was the whole world going crazy? Karen didn't curse! She looked at the box. It was addressed to Mrs. Marjorie Hampton but there was no return address. She opened it. There was stack of letters tied with purple string. All had been addressed to Karen and all had been marked return to sender in an all too familiar hand. The letter on the top of the stack was simply marked "Karen, please read". And there was a cassette tape and a folded note.

"Dear Mrs. Hampton,
I don't know what is wrong with Karen. I came back for her that night but she didn't want to see me. I didn't want to upset her because of her condition. Do you have a word for it in Virginia that's not so...so crude? Anyway, I can't get her on the phone because the number's changed. And she's returned all of my letters. Can you give them to her and give her the tape? PLEASE!!! Tell her to PLEASE listen to the second song on side one of the tape! I'm coming back for her on Feb. 11th....IF she still wants me.
Thanks, Mrs. Hampton!

Sincerely,
Paul"

Marjorie had to laugh at Paul's dancing around the word "pregnant." He'd been reading too many civil war novels! No matter how he sidestepped it, the word for what Karen was was definitely pregnant! And not a very happy pregnant either. She could still hear the echo of the slamming bedroom door. But Marjorie's laughter quickly turned to anger as her eyes came to rest on the return to sender inscription. Karen hadn't sent those letters back. She probably never knew they existed! Richard had returned them. And, unless she missed her guess, he'd told Paul that their daughter didn't want to see him! And that's why he changed the number, too! She was ready to kill him! But she needed to get the letters and the tape to Karen before the girl's blood pressure went through the roof!




She couldn't be having twins! She didn't know how she'd raise one gerbil without Paul by her side, let alone two! Oh brother! She'd tempted fate and sinned and whatever else and God was getting even with her! That was the only way to explain it! She was even babbling to herself! It had to be a bad dream. She'd go to bed and wake up in an hour or two to realize that it had all been a bad dream. She'd still be a virgin, she'd have her figure back, her back wouldn't hurt and she certainly would never have travelled back in time! Yeah, right! She still had the damned lavender dress and undergarments she'd been wearing when they'd been sling shotted back to the twentieth century hidden in the back of her closet! Her head was starting to hurt and she didn't like taking over the counter or prescription medicines because of the baby. No, scratch that. Babies! She laid down on the bed and rubbed her forehead and her fingers lightly brushed over the scar to the left of her temple. Oh, what had she gotten herself into?
Marjorie knocked on the door and peeked around to make sure she wasn't in the line of fire should Karen let something fly. She was lying on her side when she opened the door the rest of the way. She put the box down on the bed and started to walk away when she noticed her daughter's eyes. Karen had been crying! "Honey, what's wrong?" Marjorie got a glare in return. "I mean besides the fact that you can't see your feet."
"Not funny!"
"That box is from Paul. Whatever is wrong, I'm sure that will fix it."
"He can't fix this."
"You knew about Chip, didn't you?"
Karen's head shot up and she met her mother's eyes. "You mean his engagement? Yes. But I was already in love with Paul. Don't try to make my baby some kind of revenge, Mom. You're above that. And Paul left me so..."
Marjorie decided not to pussyfoot around the issue. "Your father has been sending back his letters. Paul's coming for you tomorrow night. You have to go, honey. You belong with Paul. He loves you and you love him. Time to move on."
It took an hour or so to read all of his letters. Every one of them spoke of how much he missed her, how he was looking forward to being a fatherand how close he was to having the money to provide for them. She had gotten used to the fact that he never said those three words. But, when she listened to the song he specified, she felt that he might actually have the feeling, even if he couldn't say the words. The tape was "Faith" by George Michael. She might've figured as much! The first song was "Faith" The second song, the one she was supposed to pay special attention to was "Father Figure". She didn't understand that until she heard the words. As an afterthought, he'd scrawled that she should listen to the third song, too. She had to laugh, and it had been so long since she'd done that. That song she understood straight off. Of course, it was "I Want Your Sex"!
Marjorie decided not to confront Richard until after Karen was gone. She was doing that for Karen, not necause he deserved any special consideration. She wanted her daughter kept calm and she wanted her leaving to be without incident. But it was all she could do to keep her mouth shut. She made supper and took a tray up to Karen. She didn't know what the doctor had told her, but it had obviously upset the girl. Discovering that her own father was a sneaky, meddling bastard certainly hadn't helped. But knowing that Paul was coming for her in less than twenty four hours had improved her mood somewhat. Marjorie knew when to let go. She hoped that Richard would learn as well before it was too late. What she didn't know at that time was that over the next two weeks, she would be condemn herself over and over again.
Richard wasn't home when Paul knocked at the front door. But he would be at any given second. Karen was packed and ready to make the break. She led Paul up to her room so he could grab her suitcase. They were barely inside the door when he whirled her around and kissed her. She nearly panicked and explained that they needed to go before her father got home. Paul didn't seem the least bit worried. In the coming weeks he would would be kicking himself, too. Just as he picked up the suitcase they heard the stomp of footsteps coming up the stairs. With a steely reserve that her eyes said she didn't feel in the least, she pushed Paul toward the stairs. "Go on. I'll be right behind you," she assured him.
"But..."
"No buts." She turned to her father. "I love you, dad, and I've always understood that I was a bit of a disappointment because I wasn't a boy. But when you interfered in my personal life, you crossed a line. I'm out of here now!"
"And what about college?"
She started toward the stairs. "I'll go after I deliver."
"You're letting him ruin your life and compromise your teachings!" He grabbed for her shoulder just as her foot left the top step. He would replay the scene over and over in his mind for the rest of his life.
Karen felt her foot miss the step. Her center of gravity was way off and she made a mad grab for the banister but missed by a country mile. Paul watched in horror as she came down the stairs with the force of a runaway train. She landed at his feet. Her left leg was twisted so badly under her that he knew it was broken. He fell to his knees beside her and lifted her head. His eyes grew wide with horrorand her felt the nausea rise in his throat.. His hand was not only sticky and red, but he felt her skull move and shift. Marjorie Hampton ran for a towel and carefully rested her daughter's head on it. He had a penlight somewhere in his pocket. After too much fumbling, he finally found it. Paul opened her eyes one at a time and was horrified by what he saw. The pupils in both were dilated and neither followed the light. Had he done something when he lifted her head? He'd never been so damned scared in his life! He looked up at the top of the stairs where Richard Hampton seemed frozen in fear and horror. He pressed Karen's hand to his lips for a second.
"Are you happy, you sonofabitch? You might've just killed her!"
"I-I didn't mean to hurt her," he muttered, but no one in the foyer heard him. "It was an accident!"

The Gettysburg Zone Part 11

Christmas was a month away. There was no festive air in the Hampton house. Karen was still missing. Despite the spiritual basis for the holiday, Marjorie Hamptom felt like Christmas was just another day. Where was the joy when your only child was missing and quite possibly dead? She hadn't cancelled the holiday visits. They would be in Richmond over Christmas and in Metarie, Louisiana for New Years. She knew that she probably should stay in Gettysburg, but she felt like she was losing her mind. Her pilgrimages to Wright Avenue were making her hear voices. Well, one voice in particular:Karen's. If she didn't get away from Gettysburg the men in the little white coats were going to come and take her away to a nice, quiet padded cell. Richard needed to get away, too. He was no longer berating Karen from the puplpit, although he always steadfastly denied ever doing that to begin with. But he seemed too easily resigned to accepting that Karen was dead. Marjorie couldn't bury her daughter...not even figuratively.


Robin McNeal was not as tall as Karen and not as well proportioned to her way of thinking. But she had dreamy brown eyes and rich chestnut brown hair. She'd held Mike Nichols heart from the first time they met. He was always so busy with work and his buddies that he'd never seemed to notice just how incredibly beautiful and giving she was. But as they were frantically trying to save Traci and Karen with the limited resources they had, he saw her selflessness and her dedication to those who meant the most to her. He knew then that she had to be his wife. She'd been giving him what he physically needed everytime he asked for the whole time they were together. Wasn't that two years? Damn! Why wasn't that important to guys? So he figured that it was about time that he gave her what she needed: a ring and maybe a baby like he knew she wanted. The I.U.D. would be tricky but he'd remove it himself, with her permission, of course. God! She felt do good in his arms. And, yes, he was a little jealous of what Paul had. Karen would never look at another man because she had her man emotionally and legally. Robin was as free as he was and he knew just how free he'd been. Hopefully she didn't and never would. She wasn't a virgin when they met and neither was he. But that didn't matter then and it didn't matter when he was making passionate love to her in the woods or the barn. She was adventurous and sexy and damn, she could make him see stars! He watched her dress in the alcove by the forge where he bedded down. She'd rocked his world and he was about to rock hers.
"Hey, baby, we need to talk," he said. She froze immediately. "It's not bad!"
"What do you need to discuss?"
He got down on both knees and took her hands in his. "We've been having too much meaningless sex."
She glared at him. "What we do is meaningless?" she asked in an irritated voice.
"No! No! It's always meant something! But I want it to mean more."
She got on her knees in front of him. "What more?"
He swallowed hard. "Marry me, Robin? Have my children and lets make the best of the life we have together."
She lowered her eyes. "I can't have your children."
He grabbed her chin and made her look at him. "I can remove that thing and we try. That's all I'm asking. Can we try?"
"You wanna make all this legal?"
"I want a Mrs. Nichols in my bed at night and I want it to be you. Whadaya say, Miss McNeal?"
She hugged him and started to undress again. "I say that I want to be Mrs. Mike Nichols, but I think I want to have him now and as much as possible for as long as I'm Miss McNeal!"
"B-But we just..."
She laughed and grabbed his ears. It was fun to see his eyes widen with shock. "You wanna talk or do you wanna act?" She didn't have to ask twice.



Angus's house smelled richly of cedar and spices. Christmas in 1863 was refreshing. There was no commercialism like in the twentieth century. Pine boughs topped every fireplace. Cedar logs made a fragrant and long burning fire. Robin baked cookies laced with cinnamon and nutmeg. There wouldn't be a tree until Christmas Eve and that wasn't a problem. In the twentieth century stores started putting Christmas decorations out soon after Halloween! By December 25th, Christmas had lost it's magic. Sure, the twinkle lights were pretty and the carols on the radio were pleasant enough. But the smell of pine and spices, unblemished snow covered fields and the soft glow of candlelight brought the magic of the season to a level that none of them had experienced. They all went for country walks in the crisp December air every night. They'd all given up on ever seeing home or family again. And although that was sad, they couldn't let that get them down. Angus provided them with a good home and he made them feel like family. And then there was the anticipation of another wedding in the spring. Mike had asked Robin to marry him on the evening of December 21st and she didn't hesitate to say yes. As they all walked in the fresh snow, it seemed like a million stars were smiling down on them.
Paul held his wife's hand tightly. She'd recovered from her bout with pneumonia just fine, but he was still worried about her. He gestured at the broad expanse of midnight blue velet sky. "I never thought of Gettysburg as being polluted, but I've never seen the sky look like this."
George looked at the diamond like stars. "You can't help but believe in God when you see something like that."
Suddenly Karen found all eyes on her. "What? George said it. Not me!"
Traci laughed. "You're contagious. Get around you and your religion starts to rub off."
Karen shook her head. "I don't have religion. I have faith. There's a difference."
Chris picked up a stone and tossed it in the air and caught it a few times. "Whatever it is you've got, you got us through this okay," he said finally.
"Now I know we're gonna have a blizzard! Chris gave Karen a compliment," Robin said with a laugh.
Chris shrugged it off. "Hey, I never said I didn't like her."
"Hey! I'm right here," Karen reminded him.
"I just think you could've done better than the goofball you're with," he said giving the rock a toss.
Karen rolled her eyes and was about to come back to that when the rock hit metal. The cannonball sent dirt and snow fifty feet into the air. The group hit the ground quick as debris showered down around them. As the last echo of the explosion died away, a new sound assaulted their ears. A sound vaguely familiar but hard to believe. It was an air horn! And it was coming from one of the many big rigs travelling U.S. 15. Paul helped Karen to her feet. The lights of Gettysburg left a glow in the sky that obsured the glow of the stars. They were definitely back to the twentieth century, but what year? Angus's house was gone but the barn still stood, leaning as if it could collapse at any minute. They began the long, cold walk to town. Mike was the first to spy a newspaper box. It was December 22nd, 1994! The trip back had propelled them forward a day. For once Chris had done something right. He was a genius purely by accident.
The walk back to town left the group bone numbing cold and virtually exhausted. But once in the town limits, all but Paul and Karen went their separate ways. Paul knew he should go see his folks, but his wife was between five and six months pregnant and she came first. He flagged down two cars to no avail. The third was the proverbial charm. Their nineteenth century dress didn't seem to elicit questions. Gettysburg prided itself on it's history and it wasn't uncommon for folks to dress in period garb no matter what time of the year. The Hampton house was dark. Paul was still apprehensive. Karen assured him that her parents were creatures of habit. For as long as she could remember they had spent Christmas in Richmond and New Years in Metarie. He watched her feel for just the right brick. Pulling out the loose masonry, she put her hand in and extracted a house key. She unlocked the door and replaced the key before going inside.
She turned up the thermostat and led him upstairs to her bedroom. It was virtually unchanged. For that she was very thankful. She looked back at Paul. He seemed afraid to step into her room. She grabbed his hand and yanked him in rather unceremoniously. "Get me out of these clothes," she said. Seeing his eyes twinkle, she frowned. "I've been waiting over a hundred years for a steaming hot shower. I'll take care of you after the facial hair comes off."
He rubbed his beard thoughtfully. "Do I really have to shave it off?" he pouted as he undid the fasteners of her lavender dress.
She let everything slip to the floor. "Yes! It's like kissing King Kong." She had to laugh when he beat on his chest. "C'mon! You shave while I shower."
She let the hot water cascade over her sore muscles like a million massaging fingers. He shaved off the very last of the beard. The moustache looked kind of good, so he left that. "What are you gonna tell your folks about the baby?" he asked as he finished cleaning the sink.
"I don't know. It's not like I'm sixteen!"
He slid the shower door open and slipped under the hot spray with her. She looked a little shocked but she didn't resist. He washed her back and then slipped his hands around to rub her belly. The child she carried never gave it's mother a minutes peace! No wonder she was always so tired. It had been over three weeks since they'd made love. Some of that was his fault. He was always unsure of how to approach sex with her in that condition. But they were home in the twentieth century and he was certain that there was no longer any danger. When she turned around and kissed him fully he didn't hesitate to follow her lead. She dried off hurriedly to let him finish what would be a very brief shower. Joining her in her room he found her rummaging around for a book from the bookcase above her bed. The jacket said something about quotations, but she quickly stripped that off to reveal the true title. Her eyes sparkled and he figured that book was the infamous mail order title. The title was "Maximum Pleasure". She carefully extracted two one hundred dollar bills from the center of the book and put them on the nightstand. They would need modern clothes. She handed him the book and let him browse through it while she towel dried her hair. By the times his eyebrows shot up, she figured he was defiitely learning something. When he put the book down his eyes were dark and lusty. She didn't object to getting on her knees with him behind her,but she wasn't prepared for the intensity of their union. She hadn't cried out for quite awhile but, at that moment, being quiet was not an option for either one of them.
It felt weird being in her parents house in such an intimate situation. Her father would absolutely have a fit and her mother would probably cry a river's worth of tears. She laid in her bed listening to Paul snore wondering why all of this should be such a big deal. She was married, after all, and she had done it in the right order. But who would ever believe her? How could she possibly ever tell anyone what had happened without finding herself locked in a rubber room dressed in a very fashionable straight jacket? Obviously they would have to get married all over again. She doubted that the marriage that Angus had so carefully recorded at the courthouse would have much crediblity. Paul stirred. It was barely eight thirty three days before Christmas. Her parents were just reaching Richmond by now. She leaned down and kissed each of his closed eyelids before moving on to his lips. He gave her a drowsy smile and slipped his arms around her.
"Mmmm...I could get used to this," he said in a sleep laden voice.
"Not in my parents house, I hope. C'mon. It's time to tell our folks that we're back." It was an unpleasant task that neither of them looked forward to. She gave him some privacy when he called his family by busying herself in the kitchen. She was thrilled to find Cokes in the fridge. And the sound of the bubbles deadened the screaming coming from the hall. When he came to the kitchen, he was red faced and shaking. That couldn't be a good sign. She handed him a Coke and went back to making eggs florentine. He didn't seem ready to talk. Her pills were still sitting neatly on the top of the refridgerator. His eyes widened when she lined the required amount on the counter and began taking them. They were just vitamins and that couldn't possibly hurt the baby. "Vitamins."
"Prescription?"
She nodded and grimaced when the first one didn't go down right. "I'm anemic. I pass out a lot."
"You haven't been."
"I was eating better. No preservatives, red die number 2, and so on. Don't worry. I'm fine. So...?"
"Pop is a bastard. I'm a loser and you're...you're an Ivory Tower bitch. He's gonna bring the Charger here and my bank book and he never wants to see me, you or our kid."
She didn't say anything as she slid a plate in front of him. She forced herself to eat so the vitamins would stay down. Her parents wouldn't be any easier to deal with. "We'll make it."
"Karen, I don't have a job. My bank account doesn't have enough in it to cover two months rent! You're gonna need medical attention. And then there's all the stuff we need for the baby."
She covered his hand with hers. The gold of their wedding rings caught her eye. Angus had given them the wedding rings that he and his wife had worn. "Paul, honey, we've done the impossible remember? How many Gettysburg natives in this century witnessed and survived the Battle of Gettysburg? I have my college fund,"
His head shot up. "No!"
"Why not?"
"You're going to college, lady. I didn't even finish high school. You're too smart not to go."
"Okay. Then we'll find another way."
"I've got an uncle in construction. He was workin' in Philly. Maybe I could work there for two months and then come back for you."
Karen felt a nervous flutter start in her stomach. "And I'm gonna do what?"
"Your dad won't throw out his married daughter and his grandchild."
She swallowed hard. "N-No...of course not." She didn't think he'd throw her out. She figured he was more likely to kill her.



Paul made the call to Richmond and asked for Mrs. Hampton. When Marjorie Hampton got on the line, Karen took over. "Mom?"
Marjorie thought it was someone's idea of a joke. A very sick joke. "Who is this?" she asked sharply.
"It's Karen, Mom. Really. It's me." She held the phone away from her ear for a second as her mother screamed. Paul tightened his arms about her waist. "Mom, I'm home...in Gettysburg."
"Karen, we've been worried sick! Where have you been?"
"I wasn't in a position to come home or call."
Marjorie's voice took on a suspicious edge. "Did Paul...did he harm you?" "No! He protected me through it all."
"We'll turn around right now. Should be home by dawn."
"No. I'm fine...really. Promise me you'll spend the night in Richmond. You need the rest."
"We need to see you!" Marjorie insisted.
Karen sighed. "I'm not going anywhere. I swear. I won't get a wink of sleep knowing you're on the highway, dead tired. Please, Mom." After a second or two, Marjorie Hampton gave in. Karen hated what she was about to do. But she couldn't let them come home and find her in her condition without fair warning. "Mom, there's something you need to know."
Her mother couldn't keep the catch out of her voice. "Honey, are you...on drugs?"
"No! Heavens no!"
"I-I'm...I'm between five and six months pregnant."
Her mother's voice turned icy. "Paul's baby?" "Yes, ma'am but..."
"We'll discuss it tomorrow evening," her mother said curtly and hung up.
Karen shivered. "That didn't go well."
Paul laughed and nuzzled her neck. "I shouldn't be here to greet my in-laws?"
"I shouldn't be here to greet your in-laws! Get me some decent clothes tomorrow morning. I've got to look very married. But don't leave tonight.."
He took her hand in his and started up the stairs with her. "I'll get you a Big Mac, too. Can't have my kid not knowin' about the finer things in life."





Marjorie hated herself for slamming down the phone. She should've called right back. For all those months she had berated herhusband for being judgmental. She'd done the same thing...exactly the same thing! She begged and pleaded with God over the last six months to bring her daughter home safe and He had. She wasn't in a position to set conditions. There might be extinuating circumstances. She hadn't thought about that. And no matter what those circumstances were, she was going to be a grandmother. She sat back as Richard set the car on course back north to Gettysburg. His knuckles were white on the steering wheel. Marjorie didn't even remember half the passages he'd spouted when she'd told him the good news...and the bad news. Well, up until that exact moment in the car she had thought it was bad news. As they drove in silence, she was re-evaluating that very fact. But she could tell that her husband still viewed the news as negative by his clenched jaw mucsles and the throbbing vein in his neck.
"And she didn't say why or how?" he asked through clenched teeth.
Marjorie laughed to lighten the moment. "I think I already know how, Richard," she said patiently.
He took his eyes off the road briefly to glare at her. "This is not funny, Marjorie. The girl has jeopardized my position in the Christian community!"
"Richard, this isn't about you. It's about Karen and the baby and..."
"And what? Paul? The punk saw an opportunity and he took it. Now it's up to us to clean up the mess."
She sighed heavily and slumped down in the seat. "It's not our mess, Richard. Karen is responsible and level headed."
"If she was that damned responsible and level headed, she wouldn't be pregnant!"
Richard very rarely swore and she felt her stomach do a flip. It was just after lunch. Depending on the holiday traffic around D.C., they could make it back to Gettysburg in anther three or four hours. Six at the outside and she might try to push for the outside window on purpose. She was afraid for the first time. Afraid of the irrepairable damage he could do to the parent child/relationship in the state he was in. And, although Karen was hardly a child anymore, she didn't want her running off without having a place to run to.




Karen got up at dawn out of force of habit but he seemed too content to stay snuggled under the comforter wrapped tightly under his neck. She blew a stray hair out of her eyes. She'd dug a jogging suit out of her closet the night before. She loved Paul with every fiber of her being but his idea of what she should wear somehow didn't jive with her father's. She didn't know what time her folks would be back home. She needed to get him up and running so she could go with him to get the maternity clothes she needed. She reached under the sheets for him and bit her lip to keep from laughing. He was already up. Time to get him running.. She blew in his ear and closed her hand slightly. His eyes fluttered and he smiled. The drawl in her voice caressed his ear like a lover's tongue and she wasn't even touching him. "I still...don't want to do..."
His eyes shot open and he wasn't sure he could trust his voice. "But?"
She released him and laid on her back. "I'm ready to be done."
He thought he'd misheard but when he rolled over, her eyes told him he'd heard every single word with crystal clarity! He kissed her first, running his hands doen over her body to start. But he didn't want her to change her mind and, throughout her pregnancy, she could do that at the drop of a hat! He started at her neck and moved down over her. For once the baby seemed to be sleeping. He was thankful for that. This time his tongue touched her skin and she didn't cold cock him with her knee! She was whimpering softly like a kitten and her hands were entangled in his hair. He doubled his efforts until out of the corner of his eye he saw her heels dig into the mattress. The fitted sheet popped both corners by his ankles and he was suddenly seeing stars without her ever touching him! He didn't think that was even possible! He took one last taste and brought himself up to her eye level. Her breathing was heavy and ragged and her eyes questioning. If he bent to kiss her, would she be revolted by the taste of her own body on his lips? She answered his question for him by grabbing his ears and pulling him down for the deepest kiss he'd ever had.
He collapsed on the bed next to her. "Jesus!" Despite the state they were both in, he felt her elbow hit his ribs with jackhammer force. He bit his lip and cleared his throat. "Sorry!"
She swung her legs over the side of the bed and got to her feet. For a second her knees felt wobbly but she felt his hands support her. She looked back over her shoulder as she got her "sea legs". "Just don't forget who and what you're with, sweetheart. And..." She pulled on the very elastic jogging pants. "And doing still grosses me out. Now get your very able body out of bed and take your wife shopping for maternity clothes."
The Charger was outside the Hampton house. It had snowed the night before and the car was covered. He tossed her his keys so she could get inside and turn over the engine while he dusted off the windows. There was a note on the dash reminding him that he was pretty much disowned. Paul crumpled the note and tossed it into the middle of Baltimore Street and got into the car. When his hand was on the shifter, hers closed over it. He looked over into the loyal blue eyes of his wife and smiled. "You're worth it, remember?"
They did their shopping and paid the required visit to McDonalds. But when they drove to the Lee statue on Confederate Avenue where they always indulged in their fast food, both grew quiet. Karen put her hands over her ears, trying to shut out the memories of the screams of the dead and dying. They'd opened the vortex and both felt like they were being sucked down into it. Gunfire flashed around them yet the field remained calm and snowcovered. Paul fired up the Charger and followed the logical path. A calm snow flurry dumped fat, feathery snowflakes on Devil's Den and Little Round Top. Paul guided the car out to the Taneytown Road from Wright Avenue. The dilapidated barn caught both of their eyes at once. Paul grabbed her hand and squeezed it In the pure white of the snowcovered field, they could both make out the uneven foundation stones that stood in mute testimony to a house that once partnered with the barn that sat lonely and forlorn in the middle of nowhere. Before he could stop her she was out of the car and across the virginal snow of the empty field. She'd often joked that wasn't giving birth to a baby but a full grown linebacker because she was so big already. But as she ran toward the barn, he had trouble keeping up with her.
She looked around trying to remember where the pump and the house had been in relationship to the barn. Finally she walked resolutely to a spot that somehow completed a triangle. She got down on her knees and dusted away the snow. Years and years of tourist footprints had compacted the soil and, combined with the cold, she felt certain that, even though she didn't know just what should be there, it was way beyond finding. She turned to Paul who had gotten down beside her. Without a word, they dug in the cold ground together. She was cold and her back hurt and she was about to give up when her finger touched something cold and metalic. It wasn't a button or a bullet. She looked down to see what appeared to be a buckle of some type with the outline of a shamrock carved into it. It wasn't big enough for a cartridge box or whatever else they used buckles for. This buckle was deliciate and didn't have the U.S. mark anywhere on it. She pulled it up and found that it was still firmly attached to a leather strap that should've long disappeared. When the torn end shot up from the frozen ground, it brought up a wooden hitchhiker. The object ended up in front of Paul. It was plain to see that the wooden relic was the business end of an old drumstick. The shamrock identified the Irish Brigade.
"Andrew's drum. I told him...I promised him I'd find it," she said in a voice that betrayed how near to tears she was. "I never looked after..."
"After he died in your arms?" He helped her to her feet, taking the artifacts and guiding her back to the Charger. "I think Andrew is telling you that it doesn't matter anymore."

The Gettysburg Zone Part 10

Karen decided that she didn't like northerners anymore than they liked her. They had preconceived notions about southerners, slaves and the whole southern way of life. They believed that slavery was wrong and they would spill any amount of blood to put an end to it. But they didn't want to associate with blacks under any circumstances. A Yankee woman was positively revolted by the thought of a black mammy touching her child. Never mind that many a white child was wet nirsed by a mammy because the child's mother either couldn't or wouldn't. Blacks worked hard and received little in return. Once the North pulled the plug on slavery, they had absolutely no security. They had to feed, clothe and doctor themselves where the masters had done it before. No, she didn't agree with slavery. She wasn't that kind of southerner. She just thought that the North should've had a better after plan than it did. But living in 1863, what made her most uncomfortable was the looks she got when she went to town with George. The very people who wanted to set him free, looked at him like he was some kind of animal. And they looked at her like she had a bad case of "jungle fever"!
"My mother always told me to consider the source," George said as he guided the buckboard over the rutted road.
The beginning of October was chilly and she pulled her shawl around her tighter. "And that means that America has always been full of a collective bunch of assholes?"
George laughed at her language. He remembered too well the overheard conversation that had so infuriated her. He was loading the supplies in to the wagon as she was coming of the store. Two women, probably mother and daughter had been watchin Karen and him for a long time. The older woman didn't care who heard her when she said, "and I heard rebel women keep a whole stable of young, ebony bucks just to pleasure them. I guess rebel men are a bit dandified so the women go elsewhere. I hear the blacker the buck, the bigger his part." George saw Karen rub her forehead for an instant and then go on like she hadn't heard a thing. But he could tell she was seething when she accepted his help getting into the wagon.
"People always fear what they don't understand. Hasn't changed since time began." He slapped the reins for speed when the road evened out. "She's probably never been up close and personal with someone of the darker persuasion," he joked.
"You should've shown her."
George straightened in his seat with all the mock seriousness he could muster. "Then she might've wanted to borrow me. Karen, no offense. You're a beautiful woman, but I don't take cream in my coffee. You white ladies just don't have enough booty for me." He'd made her laugh and it made him feel good.
"If I've got to be pregnant and stuck in this godforsaken century, at least I'm with the right people. The rest of these damned Yankees can fuck off!" she said. As if to emphasize her point, she raised a one finger salute in the general direction of Gettysburg proper. She looked at his wide eyes. "What? I'm sure you've heard me say worse when I get mad. If not, you will."
"Like the word pregnant?"
"Paul didn't tell you? I guess he's still a little stunned. This poor kid will miss out on Disney and Sesame Street, but I think I can pull it off." She saw the house just over the ridge.
"Well, I'll draw a Mickey Mouse pattern and Traci can sew one for the kid."
"That would be copyright infringement," she reminded him.
He winked at her. "It will be for poor Walt."



The Gettysburg Address
Four score and seven years ago our fathers brought forth on this continent, a new nation, conceived in Liberty, and dedication to the proposition that all men are created equal. Now we are engaged in a great civil war, testing whether that nation, or any nation so conceived and so dedicated, can long endure. We are met on a great battle-field of that war. We have come to dedicate a portion of that field, as a final resting lace for those who here gave their lives that nation might live. It is altogether fitting and proper that we should do this. But, in a larger sense, we can not dedicate-we can not consecrate-we can not hallow-this round. The brave men, living and dead, who struggled here, have consecrated it, far above our poor power to add or detract. The world will little note, nor long remember what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here. It is for us the living, rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us-that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion- that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain-that this nation under God, shall have a new birth of freedom-and that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth.

Abraham Lincoln
November 19, 1863.


Every kid in America learned that in elementary American history. It was like the "Pledge of Allegiance."It was memorized out of necessity and promptly forgotten just as quickly. But very few people in the twentieth century had any idea of the magnitude of those words hastily scrawled on scrap paper by a President who didn't know what he was going to say. Lincoln agonized over the War Between the States.
He had deep regrets over the whole brother against brother picture. And he really didn't care about the slavery issue. He was obsessed with preserving the Union at any cost. And the cost had been tremendous.
When he came to Gettysburg, he was humbled by the terrible loss of life and it showed in the last minute speaach written for the residents of the little town of Gettysburg. Little did Lincoln know that that speech forever quoted and repeated through the decades as one of the greatest orations in American History.
Angus was adamant that Karen should accept her confinement like all women did. He should've known better. She defied convention, shunned tradition and practically dared anyone to call her on it. But Angus did understand the reasoning behind her urge to go out in public. She was tall and her condition wasn't too evident. And it was the President of the United States! Angus was proud that the little blond rebel wouldbe so loyal to the Union. And to think, he had first thought she was a spy! So he and George prepared the wagon for all of them to go to the dedication of the Soldiers Cemetery.
'





Karen felt like a marionette but somebody had dropped the strings' She had no energy. Traci felt the same way, so she couldn't blame it on the pregnancy. She was just glad to crawl into bed. Paul tended the fire in the fireplace. They'd seen Lincoln the previous week and as she watched him, he kind of reminded her of old Honest Abe. Since they'd been there, he'd grown a beard and a moustache. Lincoln didn't have the latter. She wished Paul didn't have the beard. It gave her a permanent case of brush burn! But it was the style so she put up with it. She felt his arm around her waist as she laid on her right side. He playfully nibbled her shoulder. Lately she'd been a bit inattentive to him in the bedroom but she had no control over that. She was always so tired and, even a little over four months, she was bigger than she'd figured on. Sex was awkward and, at times, downright uncomfortable.
She sighed at his persistence. "Paul, I'm not in the mood," she said softly.
"You never are," he replied good naturedly.
"Shut up!"
He laughed and rubbed her stomach. "Damn! You got a gerbil in there running on one of those wheels?" His laughter was infectuous. "I don't know what's in there but it won't let me rest. Are you part
kangaroo?"
He rubbed his beared chin thoughtfully. "Stallion maybe but...nope...no kangaroo."
"In your dreams." She settled into the curve of his body.
He started nibbling on her ear. "And just who would Miss Virgin 1994 have to compare me to?"
His breath was hot and moist against her throat. "You're torturing both of us. And I have sneaked an occassional peak at 'Playgirl'. So there!"
More laughter. "What they say is true. Preacher's kids are hell on wheels. I would never torture you. Let me make you feel good."
"It's uncomfortable, Paul. I mean it. It's like there's a basketball between us.' Her breath caught and her voice cracked as his hand stroked her body gently. "Paul, this is not ...open...for discussion!"
"You just relax. You do nothing. Not before and not after."
She tried to roll over but he kept his lips firmly against her throat. "I told you...it's fifty fifty...oh, God! I can't...reciprocate. And I'm not gonna sit here and watch you do your five shuffle knuckle or whatever you called it!"
He caught the corner of her mouth with his lips and she turned her head to receive his kiss. "With the gerbil, I'd say you've got about seventy five percent on your shoulders right now. I'm not holdin' up my end. And you won't have to watch me do anything. I don't need the sensation if I'm not with you. Now...please...let me make you feel good, Karen. Don't move."
She stayed in the curve of his body while his hands manipulated her in such a way that even the baby inside of her was stunned with wonder. It was still for a very short while. The tension that had been building inside of her over everything in general melted away. There was no tidal wave of sensation like the ones that had made her cry out like before. It made her whimper like a hungry puppy and there was a kaleidoscope of color behind her closed eyes. When it was over she felt so incredibly guilty that she didn't want to face him. But he gently forced her to meet his eyes. He was flushed and breathless. "I-I feel so..."
"Good? Satisfied? Then I've done my job. Now go to sleep."
"But you..." She stopped at the sight of his lopsided grin. "What?"
"Lady, you just gave me a lap dance. I think we can definitely work around the basketball gerbil."
The room was cold when Paul woke up. The fire had died out shortly before dawn. The room had enough chill to frost one's breath. He put a log on the embers and stirred it to flame. Within no time the chill was beginning to leave the room. Paul took a look at his sleeping wife and noticed she was burning up! Her skin was hot and dry to the touch. Not a bead of sweat traversed her forehead. She shivered under the heavy quilt. She seemed fine last night. Suddenly, she was sick. The knock at the door was Robin. Apparently Traci had the same thing. She was hot and cold at the same time. But Traci was up and moving. Karen was concsious but listless and she coughed a lot.. Mike diagnosed them immediately: pneumonia. Pneumonia was dangerous in any century. Somestrains didn't immediately respond to the drugs of the twentienth century. Nut in the nineteenth century there was no penicillin. No tetracycllin. No antibiotics so speak. Colds were cured by herbal remedies much like she had said they put on that sponge. Herbal remedies contained everything from catnip to sassafrass. There was mint, burdock, Saint John's Wort and other herbs that would be used for many twentieth century ills...both mental and physical. Mike was a firm believer in vitamins. They were eating the most organic food in the world and that was good. But Karen and Traci needed concentrated doeses of vitamin C and fluids. That meant that they were going to have to be given things that most people in those days didn't get. Robin and Mike ground things like tomatoes that Angus had canned and sweet potatoes ...things readily available but not in liquid form. He looked steadily at Robin as she was crushing the vegetables and kind of realized that she was everything to him that Paul had found in Karen. And he knew enough about the I.U.D to know how to remove it. They'd have their happily ever after, too. He planned to ask her to marry him over the Christmas holidays. They just had to get Traci and Karen well.
Paul bathed his wife's forehead with a cool cloth. Her eyes were glassy and had a far way look. Her chest felt tight and sometimes it hurt to beathe. She saw the worry furrow Paul's forehead. She felt like hell but she wanted to lighten the moment. "Lincoln's revenge. See what I get for wanting to see the President? Damned republicans!" she grumbled. It didn't seem to catch with him. She stroked his face. "Hey! You never watched 'The Beverly Hillbillies'?"
"That corny old sixties show? Yeah. Why?"
"Granny always believed the south would rise again." She saw by the look in his eyes that he thought she was getting delirious from the fever. "Here is this Yankee one horse town, I am the south. Don't you ever forget that."
"I'm scared, Karen. The fever is so high and I don't know what to do! Mike and Robin are makin' some kinda juice for the vitamin C. I don't wanna lose my family!" He started to cry.
Paul had never once said that he loved her and that was always in the back of her mind. And she accepted that. But now he was crying about losing his family. He had to have some feeling in his heart. He just couldn't say those three little words. She saw that damned bottle of scotch on the wash stand and her stomach did a double flip. As a twentieth century woman she knew that it was forbidden to drink alcohol during pregnancy. But she knew that whiskey was long held to be a fever breaker. And, if she didn't break the fever, the baby was already at risk. "Give me the scotch."
"Karen, .no! The baby..."
"This fever can damage or kill the baby. The whiskey will make me sweat it out." She took the bottle and poured what she guessed to be a shot. The stuff was nasty and it burned like hell! She was trying to be logical. Given her height and weight...oh hell! What had it taken to get her all warm and fuzzy the night they got there? Angus didn't pour shots, he poured glasses! How many did she drink? She was risking her baby either way. Damned if she did and damned if she didn't! She poured the glass like Angus would. Thank God it was a small glass! She drank it. It took three tries but it was down. All she had to do was wait. "Paul, I need you to do something for me."
"What? Anything.!"
"The Bible Angus gave us on the day we were married is on the dresser. I don't care what you read, but pick something and read it."
"Karen, you know I don't...believe."
"As long as you are with me, I'm not gonna let you not believe. Anything but the twenty third psalm! I do want to go to heaven, but not tonight. Please, Paul."
"Faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen." He saw a smile that began in his wife's blue eyes and travelled to those beautiful lips.
" Hebrews, chapter eleven. Very good."
He shrugged. "Hey, some things just stick. I did do eight years at St. Francis Catholic School."
"Ahhh. So...you said preacher's kids are hell on wheels. Is it true what they say about Catholic girls?' She was beginning to feel the heat of the scotch.
"A gentleman doesn't tell," he said as he re-wet the cloth an placed it on her forehead. "I never dated a Catholic girl. Only had two girls before you. I was a confirmed bachelor until a certain preacher's daughter showed me the error of my ways."
"She'll remain nameless?" She knew her words were slurring slightly.
He didn't give a damn that she might be contagious. If he hadn't caught it before now, he rationalized that he probably wouldn't and he would find out that he was right. He kissed her full on the lips. "She knows who she is. Go to sleep, babe. I will read...for you."
She shook her head and the whole room spun like a crazy carnival ride. "No! You read for you. The baby and I have God. You need to find Him."
He watched her sleep. He breathing was kind of shallow. But she was in a deep drunken, feverish sleep. The morning sickness had been gone for better than a month. But she would be so sick in the morning. He picked up the leather bound Bible. Angus had inscribed their names and the date of their wedding in the front. He leafed through it absently. The page stoped at 1 Corinthians Chapter 13.

Though I speak with the tongues of man and of angels, and have not charity, I am become as something, or a tinkling cymbal And thought I have the gisft of prophecy, and understand all mysteries, and have all knowledge, and though I have all faith and can remove mountains, and have not charity, I am nothing. And though I bestow all mygoods to feed the poor, and though I give my body to be burned, and have not charity, it profiteth me nothing. Charity suffereth long, and is kind. Charity enviethnot, charity vaunteth not itself, is not puffed up. Doth not behave itself unseemly, seeketh not her own, is not easily provoked, thinketh no evil. Rejoiceth not in iniquity, but rejoiceth in the truth. Beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things. Charity never faileth, but, where there be prophecies, they shall fail; whether there be tongues, they shall cease, whether there be knowledge, it shall vanish away. For we know in part, and we prophesy in part. But when that which is perfect is come, that which is in part will be done away. When I was a child, I spake as a child, I understood as a child, I thoughtas a child, but when I became a man I put away childish things. For now we see through a glass darkly; but then face to face; but then I shall know even as I also am known. And now abideth faith, hope and charity, these three; but the greatest of these is charity.

Charity. There were a bunch of definiions for that word, but he remembered one as he looked at his wife. Selfless love. She'd do anything for those she loved. Hell! She'd do it for strangers! And it hurt her so much when what she did wasn't enough. He pulled the chair closer to the bed. The chair screeched like fingernails on a blackboard and he winced. She never moved. She looked like an angel. Oh, yeah, he knew all about the devil inside of her. She was hot and sexy and never shy with him. God! She felt so good in his arms. And those legs! Oh, those legs! She moved like a stripper, but he would never insult her by telling her that. She gave with every fiber of her being even though she probably knew in her heart that he'd only been out for a good time. And he had been. But now he was in it for the long haul and he knew that even before she got pregnant. He carefully laid his hand on her belly. The gerbil was busy on it's wheel. He laid his head where his hand had been. Damn! He heard something that sounded like "whoosh-whoosh-whoosh". His baby was so strong and so real. "God. I don't pray but I can beg. Don't take the only family I have. Let me tell her I love her. Let me show my son or daughter a real father's love. Don't let me be to my wife and child what my father was to me and my mom." He brushed a tear away and looked up at her face. His heart swelled. Beads of sweat were gathering on her forehead. The fever was broken!
True to form she had a raging hangover in the morning. She didn't for the life of her understand why anyone would drink for fun! The morning after was terrible! Her chest was still tight but the baby was still very active within her. Traci was stronger and on her feet and she didn't seem to mind the vile concoction that Mike and Robin had put together. Karen knew that all of her strength was going toward the baby. There was very little reserve left to fight the cold. And the juice was something she didn't think even a health nut would drink, but she forced herself. It couldn't possibly hurt the baby. In fact, she thought it was like go-go juice to the gerbil. That thought brought laughter. The nickname had stuck. The baby was officially referred to as the gerbil. And that little gerbil seemed to have no end to an energy supply! She didn't argue when Mike told her she needed to rest for a week or two. She had about as much energy as a deflated balloon had air. Unlike when she'd nearly been raped, Paul was constantly checking on her and taking care of her. She slept a lot but she knew he was there.
"Hey, you," she said from the bed as he brought a glass of that witch's brew. She made a face when he handed it to her.
"Drink it." She made a comical display of holding her nose as she drained the glass. He loved that sense of humor! He gave her a glass of water to get the taste out of her mouth. " And now abideth faith, hope and charity, these three; but the greatest of these is charity."
Her eyes widened and she smiled. "I'm impressed."
He crawled into bed with her and laid his head on her stomach. The gerbil never tired. He felt her hand stroke his forehead. "Your wish is my command...as long as you don't ask me to stop bringing you the juice."
"Shucks! Thought I could get away with something!"
"After the war, we need to get away. We could move to Virginia or Louisiana, if you want. Maybe I could be a farmer."
"I'm fine right here. As long as I have you and the gerbil, I don't need anything else...except..."
He looked up into her eyes. "Except?"
"Except I need my health back so I don't have to drink that damned juice!" She crossed her eyes at him and made him laugh. "And your reading needs to continue. It's a fact of life, darling. I want your body and your heart. But I want Jesus to have your soul and I'm not gonna let up. It's part of my genetic makeup, I think. Okay. I talk a bit off color. And I guess I like sex a little too much and not for the reason it's intended
"Hey! We did it for the right reasons. We've got the gerbil."
"I didn't do it for that reason. I did it because it felt good. The gerbil is just the result. Be serious for a second, will you?"
He kissed her belly and sat up. "How can I when you keep crossin' your eyes and clownin'?"
"I know where I want to go when I die but I don't want to go alone. I'm gonna turn you around if it kills me!"
"You've already got a good start, lady," he said before kissing her and holding her until she fell asleep.

The Gettysburg Zone Part 9

Robin was heading out to meet Mike when she heard the furious hoofbeats pounding up to the porch. Traci ran from the kitchen to see Angus leap from the massive black horse. There was foam coming from the horse's mouth. George took the reins and started back to the barn but Angus stopped him. "The rebs are in town! They're battlin' it out on the Chambersburg Pike! The whole town's afire! Folks are headin' for their cellars!"
It had been so peaceful that they'd almost forgot the gruesome facts. The Battle of Gettysburg would last three days and take thousands of lives. Jennie Wade would die on the last day as would thousands of men marching in Pickett's charge. Angus was busy hurrying to open the door to the cool, dark cellar. Karen and Paul dressed with lightning speed and ran to join their friends and host in the cellar, armed with only two hurricane lamps, extra candles and a Bible that Angus would read from. By the afternoon, the Confederates had forced the Union defenders back through town. By dark they all emerged from the cellar, tired and hungry. Angus assured everyone that the boys in blue would surely drive the reb menace from Pennsylvania in short order.
"It's not over, Angus." Karen said tiredly.
"We held 'em. Surely they'll retreat."
She turned to face him. "Angus, trust me. The confederates are not whipped like you might think. We need to be in the cellar by daybreak. It'll be very close."
He eyed her suspiciously. "And just what kind of witch might ye be?"
Her eyes widened. "Angus, I try very hard to be a woman of faith, not witchcraft! I just know that it's not over."
"A spy then?"
She was beginning to get angry. "I am not a spy, but I don't like what's happening to my part of the country anymore than you do yours. Just trust me and my faith or intuition...whatever you choose to call it! It is not over and we need to take cover!"
The second day of the battle was worse. They listened to the the volleys of gunfire and cannon shot as the battle was waged all around them. This time it was Karen who read the various passages and Psalms meant to calm fears and strengthen faith. Just the sound of her voice reciting some of what they all knew she truly believed had a calming effect. She closed the Bible and closed her eyes and spoke clearly from memory. Psalm 20:

The Lord hear thee in the day of trouble, the name of the God of Jacob
defend thee; Send the help from the sanctuary and strengthen thee out of
Zion. Remember all thy offerings, and accept thy burnt sacrifice; Selah.
Grant thee according to thine own heart, and fulfill all thy counsel. We
will rejoice in thy salvation, and in the name of our God we will set
up our banners: The Lord fulfill all thy petitions. Now know I that the
Lord saveth all his anointed; he will hear him from his holy heaven
with the saving strength of his right hand. Some trust in chariots and
some in horses: but will remember the name of the Lord our God. They
are brought down and fallen: but we are risen and stand upright. Save,
Lord, let the king hear us when we call. Amen

The main portions of both armies were nearly a mile apart on two parallel ridges. The little town of Gettysburg was caught in the middle. Union forces were on Cemetery Ridge as they faced off against the Confederate forces on Seminary Ridge to the west. To the south, James Longstreet ad-vanced on the Union left and broke through D.E. Sickles' advance lines at the Peach Orchard. The Wheatfield and Plum Run were overflowing with the dead and wounded. The Confederates would head for the rocky area called the "Devils Den". Confederate sharpshooters would kill with deadly accuracy from those outcroppings. The base of Little Round Top was devastated. The observance by General G. K. Warren saved Little Round Top for the Union. He noticed that the hill was a desireable strategic location, one that the Confederates had overlooked and left unmanned.
On the evening of the second day the men were busy moving the dead, while the girls cooked, fed and ministered to the wounded. Karen's back ached from dipping water for the men in both blue and gray. She was witnessing history as were they all. But all she could see at that particular point was the horrible waste of human life. Her countrymen were dying all around her. Sherman and his men would rape and burn their way through Georgia next year. Women would live in fear in Vicksburg and New Orleans. Children would starve on the streets of Richmond...and for what? The south would surrender. The slaves would be free. Thousands of southern women would be widowed and their children left without fathers for nothing!
She wasn't even aware of the fact that she'd been unconciously avoiding the Union soldiers. It was a jumble of bodies that the women cautiously worked their way around. But when she looked down to see who was clutching her skirt, she nearly broke down in tears. The hand that held on for dear life came from a tattered blue uniform and it's owner couldn't have been more than fourteen. His leg was badly mangled from grapeshot schrapnel. She tore off a piece of her skirt and poured a dipper of water over it to clean his face. He looked up at her with pain glazed blue eyes. He spoke with an Irish brogue. He'd joined the famous Irish Brigade with his older brother shortly after they'd arrived in America. The Irish Brigade had been a crazy quilt of regimants from New York and Massachuttes. She wasn't sure where this child was from, but the sight of him in such pain at such a young age tugged violently at her heartstrings. Suddenly it didn't seem to matter what color he wore. She just wanted to make his existance...how ever long he had left...more comfortable.
"You're a sainted woman, you are," he said as she cradled his head to allow him to drink.
She didn't feel sainted. For the last few hours, she didn't even feel American! But she smiled at him and finished washing the gunpowder stains from the boy's face, "I'm not sainted, sugar. I'm doing my part."
The boy's eyes widened. "You be a reb?!?"
She dipped more water for him. "I'm a southern woman, yes. But I'm here to help you."
" I can't find my brother. I saw him fall at the Wheatfield but he got up. He had to get up. Where's me drum?"
She took off his hat and stroked his hair. "I'll look for your drum in the morning. I can't see too well with just the torchlight. What's your name?"
He coughed and she could hear a rattle in his young chest. "Andrew O'Neill. My brother is...Timothy. Can you find him, ma'am?"
She swallowed hard as she watched the boy's eyes flutter. She tucked her feet up under her and let him rest his head in her lap. "I'll do my best, sir."
He smiled weakly. "Ain't no sir. I'm a boy."
She kissed his cheek and blinked away tears. "You look like a pretty big man to me, Mr. O'Neill, and every bit a hero. Why I'll bet Abe Lincoln himself will give you medal," she whispered as he closed his eyes. In ten minutes the boy in her lap was dead and Karen was in near hysterics.
At midnight Mike, George and Chris sent the women to bed. They would keep the vigil for the rest of the night. Ordinarily Paul would have stayed outside, too. But Angus didn't like the vacant look in Karen's eyes. Paul carried her upstairs and returned to the kitchen to heat water for her bath. He felt like it would help her sleep, even though she'd only rest for a few short hours. When he came back upstairs she was sitting cross legged on the bed. She didn't say a word as he helped her undress. Her extremities felt leaden even to him. He'd watched the boy die in his wife's arms. Knowing Karen's sensitivies, he knew that the boy's death had torn her up inside. But she didn't talk about it. She didn't talk at all. Just bathed, got into bed and shook even in her sleep.
At the first sound of gunfire on July third, more distant than the day before, everyone was up and getting dressed. Before she left the room for the safety of the cellar for the last time, she took a long pull from the scotch bottle that Angus had left in her room when they'd first arrived. She was so numb and cold from the night before that she didn't even feel the burn as it hit her empty stomach. In school she couldn't imagine the magnitude of the final engagement: Pickett's Charge! But she was living through it and she felt the most incredible sense of loss and waste. Fifteen thousand men had started the march across the Emmitsburg Road from a spot on what would become Confederate Avenue. In fifty minutes, ten thousand of those men and boys would lay dead and/or having been cut down by Union forces at the High Water Mark as they crossed the open field vulnerable. In another part of town, more than a hundred bullets would pock mark the home of Jennie Wade's sister. One would go through the door and kill the girl that Karen would always remember. Suddenly the words to a song of another time came to mind. Karen started out softly with the words that everyone would soon join in on, much to Angus's amazement. "Mama, just killed a man. Put a gun against his head. Pulled my trigger now he's dead..." Angus would be first man ever to hear "Bohemian Rhapsody." When the song ended, Karen's voice faltered only slightly as she recited the 23rd Psalm.


Gettysburg would not magically recover from those three fateful days in July. There had been roughly fifty one thousand casualties in a battle area roughly twenty five square miles Makeshift hospitals and prisoner camps sprouted up everywhere in a town of twenty four hundred residents! Manpower was in short supply to bury the seven thousand battle dead. More would die from their wounds and infection. Stacks of limbs cut from the wounded laid in fetid heaps outside of makeshift hospitals. Consequentially the entire town was enveloped in the sickenly sweet stench of death. Some mass graves and trenches were dug hastily that would later be dug up so the bodies could be reinterred by the families of the dead, be they North or South. Some bodies wouldn't be discovered until the nineteenth century by an unseuspecting farmer merely trying to plow his fields. But during the summer of 1863, the greatest smell came from the decaying flesh of the five thousand dead horses that just couldn't be buried for lack of manpower. They seemed to be everywhere! Some were literally torn to pieces. Some had a leg or two blown apart. The flies were thicker than pepper on sweet corn. People took to wearing kerchiefs over their noses and mouths in a desperate effort to keep the smell out of their noses. It helped a little but there was no way to escape it completely. And it wouldn't get better for a few more months.
Karen still found herself in charge of the cow and the chickens. She also helped Robin with the cooking and cleaning. But she drew the line at helping Traci in the garden. She couldn't stand the smell or the memories of the bodies that had crowded around the farmhouse. The anemia had to be coming back. She felt lightheaded and sick a lot of the time. And she still couldn't look at herself in the mirror without thinking back on how she'd felt during the battle. She had for an instant that lasted far too long become a true Virginian and forgot all about being an American! She looked at Union blue with the same distaste as a woman in Richmond! And a boy died in her lap wearing that Union blue, a boy who, in another time, could've been her little brother! There was no way to rationalize her past feelings. And she was terrified that they would grow in intensity and turn her into something that she knew in her heart that she wasn't! It made her sick and weak but she couldn't bring herself to talk about it.
Paul cut a wide path around his wife's mood swings. He knew how devastated she had been by the young drummer boy's death and he wanted to help. But she wouldn't let him in. She didn't sleep well and her appetite was diminishing...for both food and sex. The only way he could even hold her was by sneaking his arms around her after she fell asleep. She didn't want to be touched and that was it. She sometimes talked in her sleep. Usually it would be in a fit of tossing and turning when she would keep repeating the words that he'd memorized. She wanted to go home. But which home? Obviously they all would've preferred Gettysburg 1994. But none of them knew how to bend time. So maybe she wanted to go home to Richmond. Robin had confided in him that Karen had relatives in Metarie, Louisiana and was actually about an eighth Cajun. Maybe she had her heart set on New Orleans? He didn't know. But once the war was over he'd take her anywhere she wanted to go. If he could only get her to talk!
Angus was a wee bit amused by Paul Jefferson's naivete when it came to women. And to think that he had always blamed Jefferson for leading the lass astray. It was apparent that it was Mrs. Jefferson who ran things and obviously always had. The mister worshipped the very ground the missuss walked on. But one look from her would send him retreating to the barn, the forge or wherever. And poor young Jefferson had no idea of what was wrong!
In the barely dawn hours on that mid-September morn, Angus saw Paul halfheartedly eat his breakfast. Karen was still upstairs. They never came downstairs at the same time anymore. He sloshed some scotch into the lad's morning coffee and handed it to him. Paul drank it straight down.
"Lad, ye not be happy with the lass. Ye need to fix it."
Paul looked up with the sad eyes of a blood hound! "I can't fix it, Angus! The war has changed her." Paul was surprised at how defeated he sounded. He watched Karen come into the kitchen so he poured her a cup of coffee. She took one look at the proffered cup, brought her brows together in a look of disapproval and left the room in a flurry of gingham. He took Angus's scotch and poured a double shot into the coffee he'd poured for her. After drinkking it he slammed the cup on the table. "You see? How in the hell can I fix that?"
"Are ye blind or stupid, lad? Maybe a little of both?"
"She doesn't love me, Angus!"
Angus laughed loud and hard. "The war didn't change her, lad. You did. She loves you more than ever but she doesn't know how to tell you. Maybe she can't handle it herself!" He was surprised to see that young Jefferson still didn't understand. "Has she refused ye the marriage bed?"
"Hell yeah! Damn!"
"And it be because of a woman's time?" Angus pressed.
"No! She just doesn't want me!"
Angus put a fatherly hand on the lad's shoulder. "You changed her, lad. You put a child inside of her. Now go to her before she makes her-self believe that 'tis you that doesn't love her. She's sick. The child makes her that way. 'Tis many a time that I saw her grab a piece of furniture to keep from faintin'. That's your baby, Paul. Maybe your son. Maybe a bonny lassie like her mother Don't look the other way until it is too late...like I did!"
Paul ran from the kitchen. He found her at the pump. She was drinking water from her hand. "Hey! If your're thirsty, I'll go get you a glass," he offered.
She didn't look up. "I'm not thirsty. I was rinsing my mouth. I hate the taste of baking soda," she said, refering to the concoction they were forced to use in the place of modern toothpaste. What she didn't tell him was that she'd been violently ill when she left the kitchen. "I'm fine."
"Yeah. You're better than that. You're gorgeous!"
At that she did look up. She frowned at him. "What do you want?"
He laughed as she started for the barn and he fell into step with her. "What?!? You don't know how to be gracious when handed a compliment?" he asked. She stopped and turned a little too fast. He caught her elbow. As soon as his next words left his mouth she jerked away. "Dizzy blonde?"
Her eyes flashed her anger like a caution light. "Ooh! Sometimes you can really piss me off, Paul!"
"Honey, wait!" he pleaded. When she didn't stop, he opted for the nineteenth century husband, lord and master type. "Mrs. Karen Lee Hampton Jefferson, stop right where you are!"
She turned to give him a puzzled look. Who in the hell did he think he was to give her orders? It might be the nineteenth century chronolocically, but she was a twentienth century woman through and through! So why did she stop? She wasn't sure. But she did and faced him with a steady gaze. "Yes?"
"I know about the baby. It's not the war, or the battle or the hardships. You're pregnant and you're scared and it's okay. I'd be scared, too, if I was in your shoes. Hell, I am scared...for you! But I can't help you if you don't let me in."
She sat down in the cool dew covered grass and he sat down beside her. "How'd you figure it out?" she asked after a long silence.
"I didn't. I'm sorry. Angus did."
She laid back and stared at the red tinted clouds. "I thought that it was my old anemia coming back because I didn't have my vitamins. But I started getting sick and throwing up. The smell of coffee...I get sick thinking about it! And then I started thinking about my grandmother's crawfish etouffe...really craving it and well..."
"So you're Cajun."
"A little. But I could always take or leave the food. Now I want spicy and it's drivin' me nuts!" She took a deep breath. "No hospitals. No painkillers except opiates. And we know that's not good for a baby!"
Paul gathered her into his arms and stroked her hair. "Hey! You said that you had enough faith for both of us, remember?"
"That was before I saw a boy die! He could'vve been my brother, Paul!"
"Lady, I watched you with that boy. You made him feel like a hero. He went to war a boy, but he died a man because of you!"
She pulled away. "You don't understand. I'm...changing! I think George is, too. We're becoming the people we represent! I get angry when anyone calls Confederates traitors! George snapped in that barn...not over what was being done to me....but what that uniform did to his people! He lashed out in anger, not out of self defense. He felt what I feel and human nature takes over as in all of us. He is black. I was raised southern. We know our history. We know what our ancestors did and what was done to them."
Paul weighed her words and the conviction with which she said them. Yes, they were all a bit different. He himself didn't hate the South, but he had changed his opinion on war. The weaponry may change, and the battlegrounds may get farther away from him. But the game of war was basically the same: one idiot on each side decides that he is right and everyone else is wrong. And whether it's stones, spears, swords, bullets or nuclear bombs, innocent people will die."We might change history for the better. What if the child you carry grows up to be the one who cures cancer or ends all wars?"
She felt sick again. "Or becomes another John Wilkes Boothe and decides it's time for the south to rise again?" He thought about that for a second. Then he smiled and kissed her wedding ring. He got to his feet and held out his hand to her. She got up and walked with him to the barn. It had only taken one word from him to calm her and convince her to put it in God's hands. The word was faith.



In the fall of 1994 the Hamptons were in short supply of faith. Unfortunately they had an abundance of Jane Does, psychics, cranks and kidnappers in name only. The Jane Does were thankfully never Karen. The cranks were sexual deviates who had claimed to have seen Karen in everything from Hustler, to strip joints to porno movies on pay per view cable! Marjorie was furious to find her husband in front of the T.V. one night checking out a title that someone had mentioned. She cancelled the cable the next day. It didn't bother her that he watched it. It bothered her that he would even remotely believe that Karen would be in it! And, even if she had been, did he really want to watch his daughter doing something like that?!?!
The phone was tapped so the would be kidnappers were always dispatched quickly. The psychics were the hardest to deal with for Marjorie. She knew she'd felt her daughter's presence on Wright Avenue but she had never told a soul! Some told herthey sensed great violence and sorrow. Some said there was happiness and impending joy. All were vague but none ever said that Karen was dead.
Richard had seen far too many dead bodies. He was thankful that none were his daughter, of course. But the whole thing needed to end. They needed closure. What had happened to Karen? How could anyone drop below the radar of the likes of the F.B.I.? Granted, she didn't have a credit card, but her picture was in every police department in the United States! Somebody had to see her when she bought a coke or got gas at a service station!
If Jefferson had her locked up in some basement with the rest of his cronies, how did they get groceries or beer? Was his family providng for him? The police said the Jeffersons were a dysfunctional family at best, but they weren't the weirdos in "The Texas Chainsaw Massacre". Her college fund was was untouched. Her ATM card was still on her dresser. She probably didn't have more than twenty dollars in her pocket when she left the house on June 24th. It was October 19th and that twenty dollars had to be long gone. Was she doing something to get cash? He shuddered to think of his beautiful daughter selling drugs or her body to survive. Marjorie refused to believe that it could be possible. But Richard didn't think it could be any other way.
People were supportive and non-judgemental for the most part. But it was very hard not to notice that empty seat next to her mother. Karen never missed church unless she was deathly ill. She helped out in Sunday School, she decorated the church for holidays and holy days. She served coffee and donuts after the service and helped with all of the fellowship suppers. She was as much a fixture as the minister and his wife. She was likeable and respectful. It just didn't seem possible that she could just walk away and never look back. But apparently she had done just that. Richard pulled out his "Prodigal Son" sermon and reworded it some to get people's attention. He was recycling a lot of sermons lately. He just couldn't seem to write anything inspiring. His heart was too heavy and his faith was growing weaker with every day she was gone. He hoped that God would forgive him for not being another Job or having that mustard seed tucked away in his pocket. And when he had to be carried away from the pulpit a couple of Sundays because he was crying too hard to be understood, Marjorie decided that they needed a vacation. They weren't about to leave town but they needed a rest.