He actually turned the slightest bit pink. “Nay, I was tired from driving. People are rude in the metal beasts.”
That they were. The bigger cities were worse, the drivers more impatient, the traffic heavier.
The scent of laundry detergent and dryer sheets filled the air. They were inside while Frankie slept in the van under the shade of several trees. She’d left the fan running to keep him cool though with it raining, the temperature had dropped to where it almost felt chilly. It was a perfect day to do laundry, tidy up the van, and bury their noses in the tablet and laptop. She’d looked it up. Lughnasadh wasn’t until August first, plenty of time for him to want to stay.
There were three other people doing laundry, sitting quietly while they waited for their clothes. When a man put a few dollars in the machine to get quarters for the washer, she jumped. All the machines had card readers, but she guessed some people liked using change.
The sloshing of clothes in the washers and the sound of clothes tumbling inside the dryers were comforting as she sipped a Pepsi. Callan was fond of root beer and Dr. Pepper. He’d tried a couple of the energy drinks but after he’d been up all night, he said never again.
She gave him the tablet while she worked on the laptop, her eyes glued to the screen, tapping away as she searched for ideas on how Callan might be able to travel through time back to the 14th century.
He went to get a cup of complementary ice before going to the machine and getting them both another soda. They had them in the refrigerator in the van, but if they went back, Frankie would want out and she did not want a muddy dog tracking all over their tiny home. It was hard sharing such a small space, but so far they’d both been careful to stay out of each other’s way.
“This place is a far cry from scrubbing clothes by the river.”
Daisy looked up from the screen, a smirk playing on her lips. “And you don’t have to worry about losing your clothes downstream.”
His low, rumbly laugh made her toes curl.
“Aye, that was always a risk, but I only lost my plaid once. Had to walk to the village in naught but my shirt.”
He paused. “I’m not proud of what I did, but it was the year after my mum passed and I was starving and poor, so I stole a plaid from my clan.”
“You did what you had to do in order to survive.”
Callan leaned back in the hard plastic orange chair. “What have you found so far?”
“Not much, honestly,” Daisy admitted, her brow furrowing. “There are a lot of theories, but nothing concrete. Some people think it’s possible through quantum physics, others talk about wormholes, and then there are the more mystical approaches, like using ancient relics or spells.”
She thought for a moment. “Kit, one of my friends, adored time travel books. I texted her to ask her to look up how the people in the books traveled.” A sheepish grin filled her face. “I know it’s fiction, but maybe there’s something in there that could help you.”
As she talked, he looked thoughtful.
“Tell me everything you can remember.”
He crossed his legs at the ankles and told her again about Halloween, the storm, being wounded, and the feeling of energy flooding his body. How when he came to, ’twas no longer Samhain and his wound was healed.”
“Maybe we need a storm?” She tapped her lip. “Or blood. Blood always seems to figure prominently in movies and books.”
With the arch of a brow, he said, “I will give ye a drop, but no stabbing me, lass.”
She laughed as the washer beeped, signaling the end of its cycle. Callan opened the door and transferred the wet clothes to the dryer.
“Why are there so many choices on these machines?” Callan asked, squinting at the array of buttons and dials.
“In case you have a big or small load, or want to wash quickly or have really dirty stuff,” Daisy explained.
“Then again, it’s probably more likely that they keep coming up with other cycles and options so companies sell more machines.”
Callan shook his head in amazement. “Modern life is full of such complexities.”
Their first stopthe next day was the Gettysburg National Military Park Museum.
Callan was fascinated by the weapons on display. Muskets, sabers, and cannons. He was all about the cannons.
Next, they took a guided tour of the battlefield. The open fields stretched out before them, dotted with monuments and markers. The guide’s voice was clear and passionate, recounting the events of those three fateful days in July 1863.
“The Union and Confederate armies clashed here,” the guide said, pointing to a distant ridge. “The fighting was fierce and relentless. Thousands of men gave their lives on this ground.”
