The girl was peeking out from behind a stack of footlockers as he heaved himself up the last step. “Well, there you are,” he said, slightly out of breath. “You could have helped a little, you know.” He bent over and picked up the pan and bowls, groaning a little as he straightened back up. “And don’t you dare giggle.” He glared at the girl, and she immediately vanished.
George spent a few minutes arranging a picnic area. Two stacked footlockers made a table, and two more, one on each side, made benches. Then he placed the bowls and served the mac-and-cheese. “Come on,” he said gently, waving to the pair of eyes that was peeking at him over a pile of lockers. She came forward shyly, like a kitten, and he swore to himself that if she’d had whiskers they would’ve been twitching. George sat with his hands in his lap, waiting. When she was seated across from him, he bowed his head and said Grace. He really didn’t care if she joined him or not. He had been saying Grace and a lonely prayer for Mary and Dave for years. When he looked up, she was sitting with her head bowed, her lips moving silently. Then she crossed herself and looked up into his eyes. “Ladies first,” George said softly, indicating that she should take a bowl.
The girl looked at him, then slowly took the bowl that was closer to her. He nodded and took the other bowl. She waited until he had taken a few bites before she started eating, but she was done long before he was. He smiled as he remembered that Dave had been much the same at that age. She was all but licking the bowl, and kept glancing at the pot, so he chuckled and waved for her to help herself. There wasn’t much left, but it was gone entirely before he finished his. They sat there staring at one another for a few moments, and she seemed about to say something when there was the sound of a car horn honking on his road, coming closer by the minute. She was up and hiding in a flash, and George felt his annoyance growing again. Damn it all, the girl was acting like she had never heard a horn before.
Leaving the dishes where they were, he climbed down and waited at the tailgate of his pickup. A sedan soon pulled to a dusty stop in front of him, and Beth Reardon climbed out. “George, is that girl still here?”
“Yes. I was just about to get her talking when you drove in, honking like a flock of geese.”
“Harrumph! Not likely. George, Jimmy just came back from the high school. Seems that there was more trouble than we thought.” She quickly related the story of the firefight at the farm. “That girl the miners rescued claims that we’re in Germany, Year of Our Lord 1631.”
George stared at her for a moment, then looked back over his shoulder. “Bullshit.” WHACK! He stared at Elizabeth as if she had grown horns and rubbed the suddenly sore spot on his chest.
“Don’t you curse on the Sabbath, George Blanton.” Elizabeth glared at him, and he felt surprisingly contrite. “Haven’t you ever read any time travel stories?”
George eased away from her a little. “When I was younger, and didn’t know any better. In the ’50s. Even TV has given up on real time travel.”
“Well TV didn’t come up with this, George. Those men who were chasing her raped her Ma and damn near killed her Pa. She doesn’t speak German by accident, and she doesn’t speak English at all. And she’s never seen anything like us before.” Elizabeth stopped talking and looked up into the barn. Sure enough, there was a dirty face with wide eyes staring down at her.
Walking over to where she was just below the girl, she held out her hand. “Come down, child. You’re safe here.” Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out a book. George looked over her shoulder and saw that it was a English-German dictionary. Looking up words as she spoke, she said, “Kommen”, flipped a few pages, “Unten”, flip flip, “Madchen.” “Come down girl.”