The Legend of Garison Fitch (Book 1): First Time (15 page)

"Ye're in love with her, aren't ye, me lad?"

"Well...I never gave it much thought. Out loud, I mean. But, I believe I am. I mean, I've never told her—or even admitted it to myself, but ..." As he said it, he knew it was true. He was shocked—not at loving Sarah—but at being able to admit it to himself even in a round-about fashion. A year before, he had almost given up hope on finding a woman he could truly love. The thought flitted through his mind to be glad he hadn't “settled” for someone in the twenty-first century.

"Then what do ye wait for?" the Irishman asked with a big smile. "She is the prettiest lass in three counties and she loves that boy Garison Fitch."

Garison blushed and asked, "Why do you say that?" After all, she had never come right out and said anything, either, had she?

"'Tis obvious to every man with eyes," Finneas said with a flare. "She is like a flower in bloom when she even speaks of ye. Her eyes shine like the sun when ye are around. Were I you, Garison Fitch, I would pick that flower at me first chance. Though, I must admit, I can't see that you would ever have competition for her affections. She's decided on you and that's for certain."

Garison sat, still dumbfounded, and asked, "Marriage? I just haven't given it much thought. But, I don't know why not. She is the loveliest girl around, isn't she?"

"That she is, apart from me own Galena, of course," Franklyn smiled. "Wee bit thin for my tastes, but she is a lovely girl. And you'll find no more God-fearing of a woman anywhere. She was raised well by a wonderful woman. The wife and I, we used to have Sarah and her aunt, as we called her, over on occasion. I would have liked to have kept up the practice, but when her aunt died my wife started worrying about what people might think. Single woman, with her name and all. I think Galena misses it now, though, an' I wish I had put my foot down, as ye say. Like Sarah, she likes to think—and talk about the things she's thought of. She misses that. But I weren’t no better than the rest."

"So why not start getting back together with Sarah? From what she's said, I know Sarah misses Galena."

"Pride, I reckon." With a wink, Finneas added, "But, if ye and Sarah was to marry, then we could have ye both over and it would be all respectable again. One married couple with another."

Garison sunk into his seat and smiled as the thoughts of marrying Sarah fled through his mind. He was seeing visions of their home together, their children, and all the other things a young man dreams of having in a marriage. He saw himself coming home to her each night after work . . .

"You have convinced me," Garison told Finneas suddenly, realizing somewhere in the back of his mind the incredible leap he had just made. It seemed even larger than realizing he had jumped through time. "Now, if I ask her and she says yes, will you stand up with me at my wedding?"

"It would be an honor," Finneas replied, his turn to blush. "Me boy, I don't think there's a chance in this world that she will turn ye down. I'll lay you odds that she jumps right into your arms when ye ask!"

Garison jumped to his feet and pulled off the apron, hanging it on its peg. So anxious was he that he left without a coat even though the day was quite cold. He didn’t notice.

At the tavern, he found Sarah serving a few customers who had come in out of the cold for a warm draught of something. She looked up and ask with a laugh, “Where’s your coat, Garison? You’ll catch your death.”

He noticed his lack of outerwear for the first time then and shrugged, asking before he could lose his nerve, “Could I talk to you for a moment?”

“Um, certainly,” she replied, turning toward the kitchen and saying to Mike, who had looked up when the door opened, “I’ll just be a minute, if that’s all right.” At Mike’s nod, she grabbed her coat and put it on, then followed Garison outside. “Aren’t you freezing?”

Garison knew if he answered he would get sidetracked from his purpose in coming, so he took her hands in his own, took a breath, then blurted out, “Sarah, will you marry me?”

Sarah was so thunderstruck by both the suddenness and the import of the question that she did nothing at first. Just stood there looking up at him with her green eyes as large as quarters. When he was about to ask if she had heard him, she let go of his hands and threw her arms around his neck, saying, “Yes! Yes, Garison, I will! I will be yours forever.”

As Garison kissed her, a cheer came up from the door of the tavern and the young couple turned to find that the patrons and Mike were all standing there, grinning from ear to ear. As Garison blushed, Sarah smiled even wider and whispered to him excitedly, “I finally get to have a last name!”

Excerpt from
A Fitch Family History by Maureen Fitch Carnes

"The great plains were a wonder to us all. I was reminded of the time I had gone out to sea; for, as far as we could look in any direction there was nothing but flat land covered by waist high grass which bent sometimes before a wind we could not even feel. In the distance, we would see the grass rippling like waves on a seashore but would feel no breeze on us. Or a wind would beat our faces with such fury we had to seek shelter, and in the distance we could see places of calm. Overhead, the clouds would be moving in such a way that matched none of the breezes we saw or felt. Or standing still like a painting.

"When rains came they often came with amazing suddenness. More than once I felt like Elijah watching the cloud form over the sea for we would go from a blue sky to a torrential downpour in what seemed like moments. The rain would disappear just as quickly, leaving behind a humid and muddy land which could be dried by the sun in seemingly no time at all. Sometimes, it seemed like one could spit and watch the expectorant dry before ever hitting the ground.

"...We saw out on the plains herds of buffalo that staggered the imagination. Even as I write this, two decades later, I can scarcely believe my own memory. We arrived at a bluff one day to look down on a herd of moving buffalo that reminded us of our first glimpse of the Mississippi. They cut a slow-moving swath a mile wide if it was a foot and it took them a full three days to pass and for those three days all our senses, but especially that of smell, were overloaded. In their path, they left what looked like a dry river bed, churned to dust and amazingly devastated. Somehow, the grass grew back for I returned to that spot once years later to find no more evidence of the buffalo than a few hardened droppings and a small herd in the distance. They tell me the great herds are still out there, but they are ever-moving. I would like to see such a herd again."

Chapter Eleven

December 29, 1739

I never realized that more preparations went into a wedding than had gone into traveling through time. And suddenly, all these ladies who had shunned Sarah all her life were falling over themselves to help. One woman is making a veil, three others are making the dress, a gaggle of others are trying to solve the dilemma of what to do for flowers since it is winter time. In short, it is a circus without a ringmaster (and, maybe, in need of someone with a hardy bullwhip or a megaphone). The only people in town who don't seem excited about the wedding are the Monroes. They, in fact, seem a little resentful of all the attention their previously-ignored cousin is now receiving. If Sarah ever thinks about the Monroes, though, she never says anything. It's my feeling that she is above such pettiness. If she's not, no one will ever know.

We decided to be married on New Year's Day so that I would never have trouble remembering our anniversary. At least, that has been our story. The truth was that, once having set the course, neither of us could think of any reason to delay. We knew we wanted to be married, and that we would be married for the rest of our lives, and we wanted to get on with it. This suddenness helped to make it a festive occasion for the whole town, which drastically needed a festival that dreary winter. I was excited to celebrate my first Christmas there, but the fog that has blanketed the valley for the past week has dampened even the birthday celebration of the Son of God.

The town has an annual festival on New Years Day, consisting of whatever winter games the weather allows, but the heavy fog and lack of snow has kept even the planning of the festival to a minimum. Our announcement, however, seems to have been the spark the festival has been looking for. The festivals that took place every year on January First have been adjusted to accommodate and, in many cases include, our wedding. It has become such a big event for the town that the Puritans have offered to let us use their church since our guest list has far exceeded the limit of the little church-barn Sarah and I attend. We have decided, however, to hold it in the barn (which is what our church building really is) as that is our church home. If everyone comes that has said they will, some will be standing outside in the snow.

The most amazing thing has happened to Sarah through all this. There is a gleam in her eye and a lilt in her step that was never there before. At least, it was never there in such force. The look of joy that comes across her face every time she sees me causes me to blush for I know I am not worthy of such favor. I am not, of course, going to turn it down, though. I must admit that there is probably a change in me as well. I no longer have to worry about whether or not people know I am interested in Sarah. Not that I probably ever had anyone fooled. It is nice to be able to be unabashedly in love.

And it is an amazing thing to watch a woman plan a wedding. They do so like they are possessed. Each minute detail is considered ahead of time and reckoned with as if the women have some sort of gift of prophesy. Every contingency is planned against—up to and including, it seems, floods, fires and famines—and details I have never given a thought to are worked out to the "nth detail" as my mother used to say. And life itself becomes a circus for all involved. Were men able to put their entire life into the planning of a project the way women throw themselves into a single wedding, there is no limit to what we could do. A trip to the moon such as the fiction writers have always dreamed about would even be possible.

As I quote from my mother, I am reminded how much I wish she and my father could be here for this day. I know they would love Sarah, and she would adore them. Part of my poor (or non-existent) concept of how to deal with women may have come from the idea my mother had that no girl was ever going to be good enough for her little boy. Something tells me she would have liked Sarah, though. Dad would have liked her, too, for she would be the daughter I know he always wanted but could never have.

We have selected a house just on the western edge of town. It used to be owned by another family, but they moved to Boston some time before I came to town and has sat empty for almost a year. Franklyn loaned me the money to make up the difference between what was asked and what I could pay, which is currently considerable. I intend to repay him as rapidly as possible. I am thinking I will actively pursue some legal cases until I can pay off the note. Finneas made it clear that there was no hurry, but I hate owing money—or anything. I always try to pay my debts as quickly as I can.

We were given the opportunity to stay in Sarah's current residence by Mrs. Clives' children (a very friendly lot I have gotten to know and like), but we both like the idea of setting up house in a new place, a place that is our own. The house we are getting is not much, but I have plans for adding on and making it into something special. Of course, how could it not be special with Sarah in it?

I have taken quite an interest in woodworking and am going to take over the wood shop here in Mount Vernon as Mister Simmons is becoming quite old. Between that and a few legal cases, I should be able to repay the note quite soon and provide for my soon to be bride and the family I hope will follow. I will miss the blacksmith shop, but I look forward to doing something on my own. Also, it will be much easier for me to pay Finneas back his money if I have an income all my own. As Mister Simmons ran it, the woodshop was a subsistence affair. I, however, have some innovations in mind that should help me make a profit in the woodworking business. I also have in mind to make a few items that are not common to this area and should sell well.

It has been in my mind that, one day, I would like to try a journey west. God permitting, I have many years before me; but I am determined to see La Plata Canyon one more time. Sarah and I have spoken of the journey from time to time and she wants to accompany me. I have studied and believe we could take a boat around the Horn to one of the Mexican settlements at Mazatland or Acapulco. From there, we could hire a guide to take us to the La Plata. I am certain I could find the way myself, but I need a guide to get us through the savages and Spanish speaking provinces more than for actual guiding. It may just be a dream, but it's a nice dream to have.

Still and all, as I prepare to be married, have I missed the world of particle physics and international lectures during my stay in the eighteenth century? Not once.

The wedding of Garison Fitch to Sarah was a beautiful affair, even if very cold for those who didn't find a seat in the barn. Outside, the world was bathed in the white of a New Year's snow that had all come when the fog lifted on New Year's Eve. A few flakes fell during the ceremony, adding to the magical quality of the faery-book wedding. Inside, a fire blazed in a fireplace that had been added after the barn became a church and coal-oil lamps had been lighted all along the walls. Even without the fire, though, the sheer number of bodies crammed into the tight space would have kept everyone warm.

Despite the heat, Garison found himself shaking as he stood near the fire between the preacher and Finneas Franklyn. Franklyn had worn his best (only) suit and the preacher wore a robe that was a hold-over from his days as a Presbyterian minister. Garison had planned on purchasing a suit but Sarah had asked him to wear his leather jacket instead. When he asked why, she told him it was because it was so unique it had become in her mind a symbol of Garison—and of the first day they had met. It had been a new jacket when he first came to the seventeenth century and, as he hadn't worn it much since owing to the strange looks it elicited, still looked good. In spite of that, Garison felt awkward wearing it to his own wedding, but was happy to accede to any wish of Sarah's.