Free Time's Echo: A CHRONOS Files Novella by Rysa Walker Page B

disappeared so quickly you could almost believe
you'd imagined them.
    Instead of following the path to
Founder's House, where Prudence, Saul, and the others are gathering , I hang a right and head down to the river. The only things
that I still like about the Farm are the gardens and the trail that winds along
the river, because those are the only places that are the same as when I lived
here. When you're near the river, you can forget that over a century of change
has happened, unless a plane or a delivery drone happens to fly over.
    I pass Bamboo Landing and walk a
little further down the path, finally stopping at a spot overlooking the water.
The mimosa tree that used to be here is gone now and the boat tied to the
landing today is a lot smaller than the one that I used to ferry along the
river, carting visitors in from Ft. Myers to hear the weekly concerts. Although
the Koreshans were the ones who started the whole
concert thing, Prudence decided it was good public relations, so I was on the
river by ten o'clock most Sunday mornings. It was one of the chores I never
minded, especially after the Machine Shop rigged up an outboard motor so that I
could do it without Simon or one of the others tagging along to help row.
    I ferried two celebrities on that
boat—Thomas Edison and Henry Ford. But the trip that is burned into my memory
took place on April 3, 1902. It was hotter than usual that week and so humid
that my shirt was stuck to my body before I'd even buttoned it up. Once the
boat got going, however, it could hit five miles per hour and I'd catch a nice
breeze.
    On that particular morning, there
were maybe a dozen people waiting at the dock, all in their Sunday best. The
first to step into the boat was a middle-aged man clutching a cornet case to
his chest. Driggers never missed a Sunday. He was so
shy that he'd get this scared rabbit look if you spoke to him, but once he slid
into place with the small Koreshan orchestra, he was
a different man, his face all lit up like a lantern.
    Directly behind him was Kate.
    I knew it was her long before I
took her hand to help her step into the boat. Long before I saw the bracelet with
the jade and pearl hourglass charm—the bracelet I'd yanked from her arm as she
lay in the middle of the Midway Plaisance, hoping it would convince her
grandmother to rescue her.
    It wasn't just that Kate looks
like so much like Pru, except for those green eyes. It wasn't just her smile or
the way she wrinkled her nose when she accidentally dragged her skirts through
the water at the edge of the pier. It was—everything. It was Kate.
    She must've thought I was simple,
or else insane, but it took every bit of restraint I had to keep my reaction
down to that silly grin. I felt like lifting her off the pier and spinning her
around—ill-advised when you're in a boat. Finally knowing, after all this time,
that she made it out, that she didn't die in that awful place, that I hadn't
imagined the entire day, lifted this huge weight I didn't even realize I'd been
carrying. And while it stung at first that Kate didn't recognize me, that
wasn't a realistic expectation when I was all of eight years old and maybe half
my current height and weight the last time she saw me.
    My eyes kept drifting back to her
as we waited for the other two passengers, a doctor and his wife who always
came, but always ran two or three minutes late. Driggers was watching Kate too—a nervous glance in her direction, then back down at his
feet. No doubt he was wondering if she was Prudence, who attended two or three
concerts a year.
    Once the doctor and his wife
arrived, we headed back down river. We were maybe a mile and a half in, close
to where the Caloosahatchee meets Estero Bay, when the doctor's wife turned
around and started talking to Kate about how much she enjoyed the last concert,
never even realizing she wasn't talking to Pru.
    Kate smiled and nodded, but she
started running her fingers over the cord around her neck,