SONS OF THE FATHERS

Chapter 15:  Desperate Journey

Looking down at the picture, she noticed Joimus had neither signed nor dated it. She handed back the journal, requesting that Joimus do so. Taking the pen, Joimus wrote, "May-2005" and above that a simple "J. M."  She stared at it. It was the Sydney she needed to be in, must be in. A single tear ran down her cheek, dripping off her chin, smearing the "J".  
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Early in the evening Joseph drove them back to Government House. Joimus just played with her fingers in her lap the whole way, looking at nothing.  The Governor was having his monthly dinner tonight for his large staff and their wives.  They had much to discuss as dissention was rife in the colony between the emancipists and the richer of the free settlers.  The early landholders only wanted an imported aristocracy for the emerging nation, with huge grants of lands for themselves that would be worked by convicts.  They felt their interests were threatened by Macquarie, and so constantly plotted against him.

Lachlan's vision for the land he himself had first officially termed "Australia" rather than "New Holland" was of a countryside of well-run farms and his attitude toward those who had served their terms was disagreeable in the uttermost to the wealthy colonialists.  He had clearly stated "My principle is, that when once a man is free, his former state should no longer be remembered or allowed to act against him.  Let him then feel himself eligible for any situation which he has, by a long term of upright conduct, proved himself worthy of filling." He outraged his foes by inviting former convicts to Government House to dine and dance and he went so far as to give them appointments of responsibility in the government.  Even his personal physician, Dr. Redfern, had come to New South Wales as a convict, having as a ship's surgeon committed the heinous crime of remonstrating with his captain about the food and conditions aboard the vessel.  

 

It was Lachlan's knowledge of the history of so very many who had been sent to Botany Bay that led him to his opinion of how they should be treated when their terms had been served.  Many women were there who had stolen a loaf of bread to feed their children.  He was a man for whom justice, mercy, and honor were not mere words.  Joimus devoutly wished he and Maximus could meet.

She was feeling a little strange that evening and did not plan on attending the dinner.  Her very presence was too awkward to explain anyway.  She stayed in her room reading one of Elizabeth's books, hearing from below the clatter and bustle of the preparations for so large a dinner.  Elizabeth popped her head in the door just before she headed downstairs.  

 

"Come in," Joimus smiled. "Let me see your dress."  

 

Elizabeth walked all the way into the room, turning to show Joimus her small train.  "Fashion in Sydney is a full year behind Europe, I fear," she said.  

 

"You look simply beautiful," Joimus commented truthfully.  The gown was Empire in style, made of dark green satin embroidered in pale green flowers and ferns.  The color was perfect for her deep bronze hair which was piled artfully atop her head.

"I shall always, I think, remember you just as you are this moment," Joimus said, feeling a sudden tug at her heart at the thought that she was trying so hard to leave this place...that inevitably were she able to accomplish this, she would never see this new dear friend again.  

"I do not like leaving you alone in your room for so long an evening," Elizabeth said.  

 

"I have your book," Joimus replied, lifting it slightly from her lap.  

 

Elizabeth pondered something quietly a moment then said, "I shall be right back," and darted out the door.  In moments she returned with her sketch pad.  "Would you do something for me, my dear?  I have so often of late wondered what your General looks like. While I am at dinner tonight, would you do me the favor of sketching his face for me?"

 

Joimus took the pad, looking at the blank page.  A longing to see Maximus' face again herself swelled inside her.  She nodded, taking the profferred charcoal pencil. Smiling over her shoulder, Elizabeth left the room.

Joimus closed her eyes and instantly the beloved face was before her. She lay her palm flat on the page almost as though the motion were a promise and a prayer, then began to sketch.  She always started with the line of his right brow and cheek then added the positioning of his eyes.  Knowing every line of him so very well, she had no need of a picture.  

 

The face emerged, lips closed, eyes looking almost inward as though in deep reflection on his life. For some reason, she could not draw him smiling tonight.  Pain and loss lay in his expression.  It was how she knew he must look right now.  She drew one last line then sat looking at it, running her fingertip along the curve of his jaw, down the length of his fine nose.  

 

"Oh, God!" she cried, putting her hands to her face as the tears burst forth, the tablet lying across her lap,  salty drops of her longing falling upon it.

Terry spent much time on the computer these days, digging for any scrap of information that might be a clue.  He began to know Sydney in 1818 very well and shared his information with Himself and with Jack, who sat, his leg propped on a soft stool, crutches leaning against his chair. After dinner, he returned, bringing up pages of information.

 

Suddenly he cried, "WHOA!" and leaned back in the chair.  

 

"What is it?" Himself asked.  

 

"Mate, this you have gotta see to believe!" he said, shaking his head

 

Even Jack struggled to his feet with Rose's help and made his way across the large room.  They gathered behind Terry, staring at the screen absolutely mesmerized.  

 

Maximus wandered in the door.  "Have you found something of interest?" he asked, seeing the grouping.  

 

"Have I EVER!" Terry whistled.  "Come over here!"  

 

Maximus strode across the room and several of them moved so that he could get a clear view of the screen.  His mouth dropped open.  

 

"It's you, Maximus! It's YOU!" Nash said excitedly.  

 

Maximus found himself looking at a charcoal sketch with the caption, "A portrait of an unknown settler, possibly a convict, drawn by Gov. Macquarie's wife about 1815."  

 

"They have their facts wrong," Terry said, turning to look up at the General, "but this has GOT to be Joimus' work."  "

 

Please...," Maximus said, indicating he would like to sit in the chair.

 

Terry got up, pushing the "print" key as he moved.  Maximus gazed at the screen then placed the fingertips of his right hand widely spread upon it.  It was the first sign he'd had of his wife in days and days.  There were several splotches on the portrait and he smiled sadly, knowing instantly their source. 

There was a small tapping on Joimus' door.  "Come in," she called, expecting to see Elizabeth.  But Young Lachlan entered the room, a small wooden box in his hands. 

 

"Would you like to see my treasures?" he asked.

Joimus set the sketchpad on the side table, "I certainly would," she replied.

He smiled widely and came right up to her, setting the box on her lap.  "It's from India," he said, opening its lid.  "Papa got it there a long time ago." Reaching into the box, he pulled out a smooth white stone.  "This is from a stream in the Blue Mountains," he explained.  "Mama brought it to me. Did you know she was the first woman to cross the Blue Mountains?"

"No," Joimus replied.  "I did not know that...but somehow I am not at all surprised." 

Next he held up a small stuffed bird.  "People are always bringing me stuffed birds," he said, "sometimes even live ones.  I like the live ones the best." 

 

"Me, too," Joimus agreed. 

 

He showed her several shells,  some more stones, and a lovely, long feather. 

 

"What's this?" she asked, seeing something shiny in the bottom corner under a dried leaf.

He pulled the object out, holding it on his open palm.  Joimus gasped.
It was the pin!  "Your mother's brooch!" she cried.  "How did you get this?" 

 

"At the picnic this afternoon.  I found it in the tall grass beside the path.  "Look," he continued, turning it over to show her the back. "The clasp is broken.  Mama never got it fixed and when I told her how much I liked it because it has her face on it, she let me have it.  I like to play with it." 

 

"Did you put it in a crack by your mother's chair, by any chance?" 

 

He looked at her curiously.  "How did you know about that?  I never told anybody about my secret place!" 

 

"I found it by accident one night," she said.  "I didn't know you had put it there."

"Well, somebody took it.  It was gone when I checked for it last week. Then today it was there in the grass." 

 

Her mind raced.  She had thought it had fallen off while she was still in 2005, but it must have come through the time warp with her!  "Um, Lachlan," she began, licking her lip carefully, "I have a big, big favor to ask of you and I hope that you will say 'yes'."

He looked at her, waiting.  "Might I borrow the pin for a little while?  It would mean the world to me...ever so much more than I can explain." She could tell by his expression that he was reluctant.  "Please?" she tried. "It would be the very biggest, best thing anybody could do for me." 

 

He smiled then.  He was, indeed, the child of his gracious parents.  "All right," he agreed, putting the pin into her hand. 

 

She curled her fingers over it as though it were the key to the gates of Elysium...as, indeed, she hoped it was! "Thank you, Lachlan," she said.  "I will never, never forget your act of kindness to me this night."  He put the other items back in his box and smiled at her, then went back to his room. 

She sat there, the hum of conversation, the sound of male laughter, rising up the stairs, and she stared at the pin.  WAS it the trigger she needed? She could think of no other.  It had been when she tried to fasten it to her dress that the time warp had opened.  If it were something else, she had no idea.  She HAD to try! 

 

From what Elizabeth had told her, dinner parties tended to go very, very late.   She didn't want to wait till tomorrow.  Picking up the pen, she wrote a note on a blank page of the tablet telling Elizabeth of her intentions and that she hoped the brooch would be somewhere near the area of the chair.  She thanked her for her kindness and the friendship she had offered to a stranger lost in time, ending with "I will remember you always" then signed it, leaving it lying atop her sketch.  She stood, looking around the pleasant room.  She had brought nothing with her, so there was nothing to take. 

 

Opening the door soundlessly, she slipped down the back stairway, avoiding the servants who were busy in the kitchen. Managing to exit the house unseen, she stopped in the yard to get her bearings.  Thank goodness the moon was nearly full.  It glittered in broken shards atop the waters of the harbor.  Good! As long as she could tell where the harbor was, she knew she could find her way. It shouldn't be all that hard!  She was just past the far southwest corner of the Botanic Gardens.  The chair lay at the far northeast corner.  It was quite a hike, but she was excited with the anticipation of her possible return to her time and didn't mind the distance.

(Note: Old Government House would be just off the picture in the lower right-hand

corner. Joimus would have to make her way from there out to the very tip of the

green point to where the chair is.  Except, of course, as it was in 1818)

 

Making her way through the orchard, she circled around the house, finding the carriage road.  It would be easier if she kept to the road she knew, but someone might see her and how would she explain why she was out and about alone at night?  She decided to keep the road in sight to her left but cut through the park where there were trees and shrubs that would provide some cover.

 

She'd covered  about a third of the distance when a large dog barked somewhere nearby and she heard a rustle in the bushes.  Suddenly she felt very alone...and nervous. 

 

Seeing a wall, she hurried toward it, scrambling over its top.  The hem of her dress caught on the edge of one of its blocks and she plopped hard on her back on the far side of the wall.  Sitting up, she leaned against the stones, catching her breath.  Her back hurt.  Had she injured herself in the fall? The pain went away and she headed off again.  She hadn't gone all that far when the pain returned, forcing her to grab onto a small tree until it passed.  Again she walked and again the pain returned, this time radiating from her back all through her abdomen.  She put her hands on her stomach.

"Oh, Dess!" she cried softly.  "Not now...not yet!" 

 

When the wave of the pain retreated, she continued her northeasterly trek.  The next pain hit when she was in the midst of a wide section of grassland with nothing to hold onto.  It sent her to her knees.  Gasping, she looked toward the harbor.  How could it still lie so far from her?  She had never experienced labor before, but it seemed to her the pains were coming with more strength and closer together than she had thought they would this early on.  She had to get to the chair! 

 

Scurrying as fast as she was able between contractions, she got to a point where she could see the side of the sandstone outcropping in the distance.  Her foot caught on a root and she went sprawling.  Her fingers flew open as she fell, the brooch rolling free under a hedge. 

 

"NO!" She hauled herself forward on hands and knees, searching frantically under the row of tightly-planted shrubs.  Where?  Where was it?  She cut her finger slightly on a partially-buried piece of broken glass.  She paid it no mind.  There wasn't time.  Another contraction came and she curled into a ball beside the hedge, biting her lip until it passed.  Then immediately her searching fingers resumed their task.  AH! There it was!  She pulled it out, gripping her fingers tightly about it. 

The hedge seemed to be blocking her path.  How could she get past the blasted thing?!  She followed along it until she came to a slight break and forced her way through.  The outcropping was much closer now.  She had hardly any time between contractions by this time and knew she wouldn't be able to continue walking before long.  In her mind she saw the bench...and Maximus was there, waiting for her.  She found if she focused entirely on this happy thought, she could get through the pains somewhat better.  He would be there! He HAD to be there! She couldn't have his son without him! 

At last she reached the flat area in front of the outcropping.  The moon went behind a small cloud and everything was thrust into darkness.  She felt a huge contraction starting.  Where was the bench?  She couldn't see it without the moon!  Sinking to her knees, she rocked back and forth, her arms clasped about her abdomen.  The pain went on and on.  Squeezing her eyes tightly closed, she formed the syllables of his name.  It ascended, a piercing cry, through the night. 

 

"Maxxx...iiii..........mussss!" 

 

There was no answering voice, no sound of boots running toward her.  Of course there wouldn't be! Even if he were at the chair, he was 187 years distant from her.  She was utterly, utterly alone. 

The pain passed and she tried to stand, but another contraction started immediately.  Gritting her teeth, she half crawled, half slithered across the dirt toward the bench.  The clasp of the brooch cut into her palm. She was going to make it to the bench! By God, if it killed her, she was going to make it to the bench!!!  Her top teeth sank deeply into the flesh of her lower lip.  The moon sailed blithely from behind its cloud cover just as she reached the base of the bench.  Grimly she grasped the edge of the seat, pulling herself to her knees.  She tried desperately to get up on the seat, but a pain shot through her, leaving her gasping for breath.  There were mere seconds after it ended before the next began, but she used them with nothing more than sheer will power and hefted herself awkwardly, rolling over the edge, settling herself on her back.  

 

It was hard...and cold...and she shivered.  She moved her hands, trying to get the brooch into position so that she could pin it to her dress, but the inexorable forces of birthing thrust a sharpened sword through her interior and she cried out, dropping the pin as a sudden wetness puddled beneath her.  Her water had broken. Dess would be here soon...very soon!  Reaching down with her right hand, she tried to feel for the brooch, but it had rolled several feet out from the bench.  She looked at it with something very akin to despair and then the clouds took the moonlight from her again and the brooch was gone from her sight.  Pressing her hands to her face, bitter tears flooded down her cheeks.  

"Here, my dear," a masculine voice, strong with Highland accent, whispered softly.  Turning her head, she saw the Governor squatting beside the bench, holding out the brooch.  "I would pin it for you," he continued, "but it doesn't work unless you are the one doing it yourself."  

 

Using a large white handkerchief, he wiped the tears off her face. "How...how...?" she stammered.

He smiled, a wondrous wise smile, and said, "2045."  Carefully putting the pin in her hand, he curled her fingers around it.  "Safe journey," he whispered, patted her shoulder, and disappeared into the shadows, calling back, "Put it in the crevice when you can."

Her fingers trembling, she began to pin the brooch to her gown. Immediately the world tilted and nausea rose up, mixing with the labor pains so that she thought she would surely die.  She was beyond even the ability to cry out and just lay there, shaking, the back of her right arm flung over her face.  She felt hands slide beneath her hips, straightening her from her slightly twisted postion, then lifting her knees. Something warm and wonderful was spread over her and she was aware of breathing near her ear.  A male voice said, "You need to push now." She knew she'd heard the voice before, but the world still tilted so and the fog of pain flowed in and through her so piercingly that she couldn't get her mind to latch onto it clearly.  "Push!" the voice said again.  

 

She was spent.  The nausea atop the contractions was too much.  "I...I...can't!" she moaned.  

 

The voice moved  so close to her ear that she felt the brush of lips when it came again.  It was firm, forceful, a voice used to being obeyed, a voice that MUST be obeyed.  "You WILL push!" it ordered.  "NOW! PUSH!"  

 

She pushed. The voice was further away.  "Good!" it said.  "Now again...PUSH!"  She obeyed, pushing until she fell off the world and went floating in space.

Maximus had left Woolloomooloo, taking his usual path toward the chair, intending to  spend the night on the bench as had become his habit.  The large bed in their room in the Northern Apartments was too painfully empty.  It was cool as he walked, he'd left his cuirass and other armor back on the wharf, wearing only his tunic, leggings and boots, and he pulled his cape a bit more forward on his shoulders. His boots crunched on the walk and he nodding in passing to the security guards who, days ago, had ceased to approach him with their inquiries.  The moon scudded in and out of scattered clouds as leaves crisped and curled their way down from trees in the breeze off the harbor.  Winter was coming.

At the tip of the point, he stood a while, staring across the harbor toward the north shore. Finally he turned toward the sandstone outcropping behind him.  It was all in deep shadow, then the moon broke free from the clouds, bathing the area in silvered light.  He squinted. Was that a bit of yellow he saw on the bench? By the gods...it WAS!  

 

He ran, hardly daring to hope.  "JOIMUS!" he cried, falling to his knees beside the bench.  She had her arm over her face and didn't respond, didn't seem even to hear him.  He touched her shoulder, finding it cold and shivering.  

 

"Joimus?" he said more softly.  Still no answer. Then she moaned and twisted and he realized she was in great pain.  He put his palm on her abdomen, feeling it hard and tight with a contraction.  His other hand, on the edge of the bench encountered wetness.  He sucked in a long breath.  Dess was coming!  He stood, leaning over the bench, straightening her hips, lifting her knees, then quickly taking off his cape and covering her with it.  She was very, very far along in labor, Dess was starting to crown.  All in the world he wanted to do was to take her in his arms, smothering her with his kisses, but he knew she needed to push.  

 

He knelt close to her head.  "You need to push now," he said. She didn't.  "Push!" he repeated, cold desperation filling his heart. He HAD to get her to push!  

 

"I...I...can't!" she moaned.  

 

He looked wildly about in the night. No one was anywhere near.  There was no help. He had to do this thing...had to get her to do what she must.  

 

He set his jaw grimly, "You WILL push!" he ordered in his full-out General of the Felix Legions voice.  "NOW! PUSH!"  She pushed and he almost sobbed with relief.  In moments, his hands were around Dess' head then turning his shoulders, guiding him out into the world.

 

Maximus' heart was pounding in his chest as his emotions see sawed wildly from fear to wonder, from joy to anxiety.  Wet and wailing, his son was in his hands.  His lips parted in amazement as he blinked several times then grinned ear to ear.  A cold breeze blew past him and he briefly lay Dess atop the cape between Joimus' legs, used his dagger and a bit of boot lacing to manage the umbilical cord, then  whipped off his rust-colored tunic, and swaddled the damp newborn, pressing him gently to his chest.

"Joimus," he said, kneeling next to her with his squalling bundle, "look!"  But she lay quiet and white.  Tucking Dess into the crook of his left arm, he used his right hand to stroke her face.  "Joimus," he said softly, "Dess is here.  Our son is here.  Please, Joimus, please....Dess is here."  He held the baby close, hoping its sharp little newborn cries would reach her.  

 

Finally she made a sound like a long sigh and her lids fluttered open.  She floated in the midst of a dense bank of fog.  How soft and comfortable it was!  She wanted to stay.  She had been in pain...she couldn't remember exactly why...but the pain had not followed her into the fog.  Then, from far away, she heard a baby cry and a man's voice kept scooping away huge chunks of her peaceful fogginess.  It was the same voice that had told her she had to push when she did not want to push, could not push.  Now it was trying to pull her out of her fog.  The misty wisps were separating, floating away from her.  She sighed, waiting for the pain to hit her again.  It didn't, and so she opened her eyes.  

 

"Lachlan?" she said, confused, thinking that perhaps it was the Governor who had been so insistent with her. Then she saw the face beside her, a face filled both with great concern and great joy.  

"Ma...Maximus?" she murmured, lifting her hand to touch his jaw.  "Are you...here?"

He nodded,  as tears dripped down his cheeks.  

 

"I...I...made it back?"  

 

He held the baby up so she could see.  "Oh...," she gasped.  "Dess!"  

 

He was so choked with emotion he could barely speak.  He closed his eyes, taking a series of short breaths.  She looked at his face, so beautiful in the moonlight, then moved her gaze back to Dess, who was rather tucked now between the two of them.  The wonder of it flowed through her.  They were together...together...the three of them.  She smiled. Maximus had not missed the birth of his son.