Although not particularly shy, she had to look away as he continued to stare. Dinner was over — roasted chicken on toast — and the kids sent away to bed. Grown up talk now. He looked and looked and then plainly asked: “Are you her?”
Marsha shifted around some more, then echoed back, “Am I her?”
“Yes. The one. The one prophesized.” He started again after his head kind of indicated the outside. “A yellow Volkswagen Bug. Orange is close enough. You drove up in it. It’s probably close enough,” he reiterated.
His voice was pleasant like his appearance. All exterior signs point to a decent person sitting across from her. But not a lover despite his obvious interest. This man was too mesh for all that. And besides she still had Eddie, left behind as she continued to portal jump. But she couldn’t quite remember how she got to this place — something about Bellissaria links (I know I’m spelling the name of the continent(s) wrong but for a reason).
Marsha didn’t tell him her car use to be yellow and she changed it just on a whim shortly before arriving here. This man, Andrew or whoever, didn’t need to know that information; may make him stare at her even more intensely. Nazi, suddenly came to mind. WWII style clothing; out in the country away from everything. Could be hiding from the the police. A war criminal, she pondered. Close.
—–
The year was 1939 but Andrew “Biff” Carter still pretended it was 1919 and he was reading the red book just after it was published; fresh off the printers. He inhaled deeply. He could even smell the new from decades away.
Couple crackers before dinner just to tide him over. Oh what the heck. He shuts the book; can’t delay any longer working on that gall darn old broken down tractor. I wonder if that *girl* will show up again? he thinks while putting on his work gloves and walking out the door. She didn’t know I was inside, washing the dishes from lunch, just peering out the window at nothing. Then suddenly: peering at something.
(to be continued)
Sunklands 