“Is there something I should know?” Mead asked, concerned. He’d never seen her quite so disheveled.
“We’ll talk about it when Witt gets here,” she offered. “Have another drink, Mead,” she suggested, nodding toward the empty glass still clutched in his hand. “You’re going to need it.”
He refilled his glass and followed her to the kitchen, taking a seat at the table and watching her as she began to prepare their meal. Her motions were fluid, and she never uttered a word. She did not try to make polite conversation as she usually did. She did not tease him, or explain the things she was doing, or the tools she was using, things unfamiliar to him in his world. Instead, she seemed like she was either thinking intently, or in some sort of trance.
He’d seen that once when a traveling religious group had come through town. Ma had warned him against attending, insisting the true religion was found inside oneself and in church and not in some tent, but he’d gone anyway. One woman put on quite a performance, pretending to be saved, cured by the touch of the preacher’s hand on her head, but Mead had seen her later, out behind the tent laughing and talking with the others while they shared a bottle of cheap whiskey.
Cara appeared to be acting in the same mesmerized way, but in his heart, he knew it was not put on, not an act. She truly was deeply concerned and thoughtful about something. He hoped Witt would be home on time tonight. He didn’t think he could remain silent much longer. The unease he felt was far too strong.
But Witt did not come home. Notthat night, nor for the next three. Cara was nearly inconsolable, and Mead tried to comfort her as much as he was able. Witt did not answer her calls, in fact his number was no longer a working number according to the recorded message. She could not reach him at the institute and was told the only Whittaker who worked there was a woman, and she was on hiatus. They wanted to know how she got their number, which was highly classified? Cara immediately hung up and did not answer when they called back.
She stopped eating, stopped cooking, and seemed to be consuming an extraordinary amount of alcohol. Her eyes were red-rimmed and swollen and he knew she was crying almost continuously, but she shared nothing with him. He held his own counsel, and his temper by a thread until the fourth day when she began wandering around the house turning every photograph of her and Witt face down.
“You’re not the first woman to be abandoned by her husband,” he stated firmly. “Where I come from men disappear all the time, heading God knows where never to return, although I must admit I never figured Witt was of that sort. He seemed to love you dearly; he’s completely devoted to you,” he continued, shaking his head. “He didn’t appear to be a man who would cut and run.”
Cara stared at him speechlessly, the photograph in her hand slipping from her fingers. The frame bounced on the hardwood floor once before the glass shattered into a million pieces.
“Is that what you think has happened?” she demanded in disbelief. “That he left me? Abandoned us and this entire situation?”
“What else could it be?” Mead asked, his hands held out. “In my experience, when a man doesn’t return home with no explanation, he’s probably left town for greener pastures. I’m sorry, Cara, I truly am, but a woman with your brains, a quantum physicist, should be able to figure things out.”
For a moment she stared at him in shock before stomping across the room and furiously grabbing the fabric of his shirt in her hands and shaking him.
“He did not leave me,” she hissed, “at least not voluntarily. Witt would never, ever, do that. No, he had no choice,” she cried out, releasing his shirt, and absently smoothing the wrinkled cloth before collapsing against him sobbing softly.
Mead put his arms around her, his mind scrambling for her meaning as he gently held her and patted her back awkwardly.
“I don’t understand,” he finally breathed out. “Cara, what is happening here?” he demanded, beginning to grasp the severity of the problem.
Cara stepped back and wiped her nose on the sleeve of her shirt. Then she brushed short dark hair off her forehead.
“You and I, my friend from the past, are in limbo,” she forced out between gritted teeth.
“Limbo?”
“Yes, we are in a plane between time, between what is and what could be,” she stated firmly. “Hence the house and all of this is still here. If Witt were permanently gone, I have no idea where we would be or how we would be living. It is the only thing that gives me hope,” she continued sadly.
“Holy hell,” Mead weakly whispered as he allowed his body to plop down on the couch. “Can you fix it?” he asked worriedly.
“I’m not sure,” Cara honestly replied. “As I said, he’s not totally gone, or we would be too. Something has threatened his very existence,” she said. “Something in the past had changed and his birth and future is in question. Therefore, our future is in question. Oh, I don’t mean you, you’ve already been born and lived, but certainly my future with Witt is at serious risk, as well as your return to your own time. Do you understand?” she asked a bit frantically.
“I’m beginning to, although I have no concept of the ins and outs of it, I do grasp what you are saying,” he said nodding slowly.
They were silent for several long moments, each tormented by their own thoughts. Finally, Mead spoke.
“At one time, Witt told me there was a good chance, if his research was correct, that I might be his great-great-great grandfather. Is that possible?” he asked leaning forward and staring intently at Cara.
“I thought the same thing,” she replied. “The research supports that, but genealogy is not always correct. It could just as easily be Morgan or even Matthew.”
“But doesn’t it stand to reason that both of them are back there living the life they were meant to, and I’m not? That it’s because of me this has happened?”
“I admit, it could be. If for some yet undiscovered reason I’m not able to get you back to your own time, then you would not marry, nor produce any heirs. On the other hand, if it’s one of the others, it’s possible that something has happened to one of them, or their spouses.”
“Matthew isn’t married,” Mead pointed out.
“But surely he will be at some point,” Cara offered.
“That is possible, but for the moment, the woman he wants won’t have him, so he could also remain single.”
