The Loved and the Lost (46 page)

They all looked to Hansum, their leader. Tears were streaming from his eyes again. He needed to say goodbye too.

They returned to the della Cappa home. Guilietta was on her deathbed attended by her parents and Nuca. Bembo was out in the hallway, ready to do whatever he could. The women had been able to reduce Guilietta's fever for a while, but now it was returning with a vengeance.

After almost a hundred years of not giving up, it was time for Hansum to let go.

“Medeea. Are you sure you can't do anything?”
he asked quietly.

“Oh Hansum, I've been trying. But still, the most I can still do is monitor and stimulate her own immune system. And maybe, just maybe, put her into stasis when the time comes.”

“Please, do what you can to make her comfortable.”

Lincoln opened up the smallest of openings in the air. He poured a drop of Medeea into a bowl of water Master della Cappa was using. The big man dipped the cloth in and put it to his daughter's mouth, squeezing the liquid between her parched lips.

“I'm in,”
Medeea said.
“She's low, very low. I'll try to stimulate her immune system again but . . . . I'm sorry. It will only help for a little while. It won't be enough.”

This pronouncement caused Hansum to fall to his knees. He looked at the young girl who had been his wife, was still his wife for a short while longer. Lincoln came and knelt by his friend, putting a hand on his shoulder.

“Goodbye, Guilietta. I'm sorry,” Hansum whispered. “We tried. We really tried.”

“Romero. My Romero,” Guilietta murmured. “Where are you, my Romero?”

This stunned Hansum. It was as if she heard him.

“No, she's not talking to you, Hansum,”
Medeea explained,
“Well, she is, but not you.”

Hansum struggled to remember when he had heard Guilietta say those words before. Of course! It was when the younger Hansum was at the Podesta's palace, huddled in the corner of the room he was being detained in, out of his mind with worry for his wife. He thought it was a dream at the time, but here he was, at the other end of the conversation. It had been real.

“I hear your voice,” Guilietta continued to mutter. “I see you in my mind, like a window to another place. Is this a dream? Is this Heaven?” The younger Hansum had opened his eyes, breaking the visual connection between the two, causing Guilietta to become agitated. “Where have you gone, my love?”

The young Hansum closed his eyes again and Medeea connected everybody to Guilietta and her Hansum's last conversation. Hansum said how the Podesta was keeping him at the palace, and Guilietta, even in her low state, gave him loving encouragement. She told how her father said Hansum and the others were devils. Hansum confessed he was from the future, trapped in the 14
^th
-century, but he would find a way to prove he was not a devil and save her. And that's when Guilietta said those awful words.

“I fear not, husband. I fear not. I am dying.” Hansum couldn't see what happened in the della Cappa bedroom before. Now he did. Guilietta's body started shivering uncontrollably and the Signora shrieked and collapsed. “Come to me, my darling,” Guilietta's voice had said to the younger Hansum. “Hold me while I go to God.”

“Can't we do something?” the older, out-of-phase Hansum pleaded.

“Medeea's trying,” Lincoln said. “She's trying!”

The Elder Shamira was standing next to Hansum, staring down at the situation. The old Hansum and Lincoln were full of anguish. Even Medeea was gritting her teeth as she tried desperately to overcome her programmed inability to heal Guilietta. Shamira watched as the Signora became distraught and collapsed, and yet she remained calm. So calm. The Master called Bembo and, along with Nuca, moved the Signora to the other bedroom. All the while the older Hansum was on his knees, tears streaming from his aged, sunken eyes, his hands clasped almost in prayer. As the Signora was carried from the room, Shamira curiously decided to follow, walking out of phase through one bedroom door curtain and then the next. She watched as the despondent mother was placed gently on the other bed and passed out.

“Shall I go get more cool water from the well, Master?” Bembo asked quietly.

“No,” the Master said, his hollow eyes looking at Bembo. Shamira knew her second father's face well enough to know he was making a very hard decision. “Tell Ugilino to run and fetch Father Lurenzano. It's time,” the unspoken phrase being; “for last rites.”

“Si, Master,” Bembo said, hanging his head.

“I go get dry blanket at home,” Nuca added, “Make Gui comfortable,” and they all left the room with the Signora gently weeping in her sleep.

Shamira sat on the edge of the bed next to the Signora. This was the woman who “Shamira the hard case” thought of as just a crazy, old, fat person. How did she become such a cherished part of her heart?

“Goodbye, Signora. At least I get to say goodbye this time. Maybe we will see each other again,” she whispered. “I'm pretty old myself and who knows, we could be sitting, holding hands together with your Archangel Michael one of these days. Wouldn't that be grand?” At that odd thought Shamira smiled and absentmindedly reached for the Signora's fat hand. She expected hers to go right through the old woman's, but felt plump flesh move under her fingers. The Signora's whole body began to shimmer blue and she awoke with a start.

The Signora looked up. Shamira's first response was to think the old woman was staring through her and up at the ceiling, like when she was talking to her hallucinatory angels. But then they blinked at the same time and realized they were looking into each other's eyes.

“Signora. You can see me.”

“You, you look like Carmella, but you are not Carmella. Are you an angel?”

Shamira realized what had happened. “You've gone out of phase, Signora. Good Gia, you've gone out of phase,” and she hugged the old woman and gave her a kiss. Then she looked her in the eye and smiled. The Signora looked back, not knowing how to react. “It's going to be all right now, Signora. It's going to be all right,” and she let go of the old woman, who fell back onto her pillow, the glow disappearing from her with a pop. To her, Shamira would seem to have simply vanished.

“I must be dreaming,” she said, crossing herself.

“No you're not, Signora,” Shamira said, jumping to her feet. “Guys, the Signora. She's gone out of phase!” she shouted.

“Come to me, my darling,” Guilietta's voice whispered desperately. “One last kiss before I meet Jesus. I am content that your voice is the last thing I'll hear.”

Tears streaming down the old Hansum's face, he heard his likewise grief-stricken self back at the palace. “No, Guilietta. You're not dying. You mustn't die!”

“I am done, my love, but I am happy.”

“You mustn't die, Guilietta. I love you. I need you. I've always loved you. Before we met, I loved the idea of you. I need more of you.”

“We had the time on the wall, with the moon and cool breeze showing us we were alive,” Guilietta murmured weakly.

“I want that time again,” the younger Hansum wept. “You cannot go. I've not had enough.”

“Who's to say what's enough? Not those who say it.” That's when the communications had gone silent before, but not this time. Not by Guilietta's death bed. Death was not quiet.

Hansum looked on in horror as Guilietta went into convulsions, her breathing rasping as she fought to force air through her swelling larynx. Her body tensed and her beautiful hands grasped the sheets as her head jerked back and forth, battling to bring in enough oxygen to keep alive. Her father was alone with Guilietta. Unbridled panic and grief screamed from his eyes. He fell to his knees, collected his daughter in his arms and held her as she shook, desperately trying to hold in the life being torn away from her.

Guilietta's body bucked harder and harder as it was starved of oxygen. The bucking suddenly became less, then pathetic . . . and she went limp. The only thing moving was her father's massive chest. Slowly, Agistino released his grip and sat up, tentatively staring at her face. As reality seeped in, he closed his eyes and a stream of tears poured down his cheeks. He crossed himself and began to pray.

“Medeea, hurry! Can you put her in stasis?” the out-of-phase Hansum shouted.

“I've already done it,”
Medeea answered.
“But that can only last a few hours in these conditions. And the house fire is going to happen before then.”

That's when Shamira ran back into the room.

“Guys, the Signora. She's gone out of phase!” she said excitedly. “Maybe that means we can put them all out of phase and transport them to the future.”

Lincoln reached out a finger and tentatively touched the back of the praying Agistino. His whole body glowed blue for a split second and, before the big man could open his eyes and see what the odd feeling was, Lincoln removed his finger and he went back to normal.

“Was that your sweet soul saying goodbye, my daughter?” Agistino said to the body. “Was that your sweet soul?” and he collapsed in tears beside her.

“We've found the nexus point,” Lincoln said, astounded. “We found it.”

Hansum, still on his knees, reached out his hand to touch Guilietta. “Then let's do it. Let's take them to the future.”

“Wait,” Lincoln said. He put a hand to his forehead, deep in thought. “We have to do it so nothing changes. So they just disappear from history.”

“We have to do it now!” Hansum said. “She's dying!”

“No brother. Listen to me,” Lincoln said softly. “She's already dead.” That shocked Hansum. Lincoln held out Medeea's tear bottle. “Open your mouth brother.”

“Lincoln, we have no time . . .”

“Trust me, brother.” Hansum, still on his knees, opened his mouth and closed his eyes, like during communion in Verona. Lincoln put the bottle to his lips. “Med, make this a deep delve.” A single drop of the liquid landed on Hansum's tongue. Then, as he opened his eyes, his world expanded. Within a second, Hansum could see a blue glow around his oldest friend, Lincoln. It was like an aura. “Now look at Guil.”

When Hansum turned his head to see his poor Guilietta lying dead, her skin was no longer pallid. It too glowed a metallic blue. And there, at her head, kneeling alongside the weeping Agistino, was Medeea, her hand on Guilietta's brow.

“I don't understa . . .” Hansum began, but then he did understand. This was not a limited mind-delve like he had experienced in the past. This one joined him with Lincoln and Medeea in a way no technological mind link had ever allowed him to touch another being. Hansum now understood everything, including why Lincoln wanted to wait. “She
is
safe now,” Hansum said. “If we can really move them through time, then, yes, we had better wait just a bit longer.” He nodded at Lincoln. Then he reached out to take Lincoln and Shamira's hands and looked down to Sideways. “Take us to just before the fire,” he said, closing his eyes. The Sands of Time rose around them.