Forever in My Heart: The Pocket Watch Chronicles, page 10
She shook her head. But then pointed to herself and nodded.
“Ah, I see. Ye wanted to go to America but he didn’t. Well, ye’re here now so we’ll go see her. However, we might want to wait a few hours for that. There’s a sharp wind out today. It will be a little warmer in the afternoon.”
The elevator doors opened. He didn’t want to ask any more questions for which she would have to mime her answers where others could see and hear. They walked through the lobby and out onto the street. When the building security guards and the doorman spoke to her, she smiled and waved.
Once outside Gerald said softly, “I want to keep learning more about ye, but I’ll only ask questions when no one is around. Since ye want to see the Statue of Liberty and ye indicated that ye had wanted to come to America yerself, are ye interested in learning more about the immigrants who settled here?”
She nodded.
“Well, there is a great museum not too far away called the Tenement Museum.”
She frowned.
“Ah ye’re familiar with the concept of tenements. The museum was established in a tenement that was built in the eighteen-sixties. By sometime in the nineteen-thirties the owner evicted the tenants, sealed the upper levels and converted the ground floor into storefronts. So fifty-some years later, because the sealed part of the building hadn’t changed, two truly visionary women saw the opportunity to preserve an important part of American history. They restored apartments to reflect what they would have been like during different years. Does it sound like something ye’d be interested in?”
She nodded.
“It isn’t terribly far, but as windy and cold as it is this morning, let’s take a cab.”
Once in the cab, he didn’t talk, but he didn’t have to. As had been the case over the last few days, Marilyn was all but glued to the window, taking it all in. It was during these times, when she wasn’t working to learn anything or communicate, that he believed he most clearly glimpsed the soul from the past. She seemed genuinely happy to be experiencing new things. Nothing seemed to surprise or scare her. That was unusual for time-travelers from the past. He remembered how terrified Elsie had been.
She turned toward him, and gave him a brilliant smile before turning back to the window. He adored that smile. It was as if even in her silence, the joy within her couldn’t be contained. In that moment he was very glad Gertrude had said she needed a friend not a doctor. He would have maintained a professional distance mentally if he saw her as a patient. But it was perfectly acceptable to fall in love with a friend.
Fall in love?
Where had that come from? He didn’t fall in love. But he couldn’t deny knowing what it felt like.
And it felt like this.
~ * ~
Mary’s first Saturday touring around New York had been wonderful. Although initially put off by the concept of a tenement museum—the tenements in and around Glasgow were notoriously over-crowded. The lack of sanitation created filthy environments that bred disease. But when he explained what it was, she wanted to see it. She had wanted to come to America so badly in her youth and her brothers had come here, even living in New York for a spell before finding work elsewhere.
She was able to get a small glimpse of what life might have been like for her and Jock had they emigrated in eighteen-fifty-eight, as planned. She was able to imagine her little family living here. She had to admit, her life in Govan, married to James, was considerably better.
After touring the Tenement Museum they wandered through Little Italy, having lunch in a restaurant there. She had never eaten pasta before and she loved it.
When they finished lunch, they rode in a cab to Battery Park where they took a ferry first to Ellis Island and then to the Statue of Liberty. She had never heard of Ellis Island. She learned it had only opened a year before she left. It wouldn’t have been the port of entry for her brothers or for herself and Jock. Still, the museum did an excellent job of helping visitors understand what it would have been like arriving as an immigrant.
It occurred to her that Gerald had said he was from Scotland. She pointed to images of immigrants and then to him.
“Nay, I came to America after Ellis Island wasn’t being used for that purpose.”
She shook her head and laughed. She tried again to mime him going from one place to another.
“Oh, how did I come here? When did I come here?”
She nodded.
“I flew here on a plane. I was eighteen and had been accepted into college here. I met Aldous on my first day and we became fast friends. Although the first few months were a little hard, being so far away from home, but I grew to love it here. I never went back—at least not permanently. I used to visit Scotland regularly when my parents were alive.”
After they had toured Ellis Island, they took the ferry to the Statue of Liberty.
From the first time she had seen pictures of it, several years ago, it had captured her imagination. Even after thirty-five years, she had never truly let go of the dream of going to America. When she was alone, or as she lay in bed at night, she’d close her eyes and imagine standing on the deck of a ship, sailing into New York harbor. A few years ago, seeing the lady with the torch had become part of those dreams.
She never shared these thoughts with James because the man at her side in her imaginings was always her Jock. Today, she had caught glimpses of Lady Liberty from Battery Park and the ferry. As they drew closer to Liberty Island, she stood at the rail, transfixed. She moved closer to Gerald and almost without thinking about it, took his hand. He squeezed it gently as Jock always had in her imaginings.
She sighed with contentment. It was no longer a dream.
He continued to hold her hand as they left the ferry and walked closer to the statue.
She smiled up at him. When she could finally speak, she’d do her best to tell him what this moment meant to her. She pointed to the plaque at the statue’s base and gave him a questioning look.
“It says:
Give me yer tired, yer poor,
Yer huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of yer teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed to me.
I lift my lamp beside the golden door.”
How beautiful.
“I can see how the words touch ye. It’s a beautiful sentiment. Sadly, as ye’ve seen today, immigrants have never been particularly warmly welcomed. The Irish who came after the potato famine were considered the scum of the earth. Unfortunately little has changed regarding attitudes toward new arrivals. The grandchildren and great-grandchildren of those same immigrants are no more welcoming. And yet this great country wouldn’t be what it is without them.”
She continued to hold his hand as they strolled back to the ferry. Having her hand in his felt so good.
He had been right about people not recognizing Marilyn. Every now and then someone stared at her as if they were trying to figure out why she looked familiar. If they caught her eye, she’d smile at them. They’d return the smile and go on about their business.
After this had happened several times, Gerald leaned in and whispered, “Yer warm, happy smile completely transforms yer face. And I don’t think many people have seen it before today. That’s why they don’t recognize ye.”
~ * ~
The sun was setting as they rode back to Manhattan on the ferry. Gerald wasn’t ready for the day to be over. In fact, as long as she held his hand, he wasn’t sure he’d ever be ready. As they walked toward the cab stand at Battery Park he said, “I had planned to take ye out for dinner but I’d also really like to talk. Jo and I have spent so much time helping ye learn about this time and the person you’ve become, I’d like to know more about the person ye were. We can only do that if we’re alone. How about we go to my home first. I’ll order food for delivery and we can eat and talk in complete privacy.”
She laughed, pointed to herself and made a talking motion with her free hand.
He chuckled. “Yes, I may not be able to get a word in edgewise. Would ye like to anyway?”
She nodded and squeezed his hand.
“Excellent. There is a place a couple blocks from my apartment that makes great burgers. We’ll have the cab take us there. I’ll place the order when we’re on our way, and we’ll walk home from there.”
A line creased her brow.
“Ah, ye aren’t familiar with burgers. The short description of a burger is ground beef made into a patty and served on a bun. But those few meager words simply don’t do them justice. There is simply no chance that you won’t love them.”
She shrugged and smiled.
Within forty minutes, they had picked up their food, walked to his apartment and were preparing to eat. He put plates, napkins, and a bottle of ketchup on the table. “Many a cultured snob would look down their nose at ketchup, but as far as I’m concerned, it is an absolute must with burgers and fries. “Please sit down, we just need one more thing.” He went back to the kitchen and brought out glasses with ice and two cans of Coke. “Nothing pairs better with a burger and fries. Or for that matter with pizza.” He opened the cans and began to pour them over the ice. “Now some people insist that pizza goes best with beer. But while I enjoy a beer occasionally, in my opinion, pizza and burgers demand Coke.” He handed her a glass of the black liquid.
She frowned.
He winked. “Trust me. Take a sip.”
She cautiously raised the glass to her lips but blinked and backed away.
“Ah the bubbles. That’s part of its charm.”
She took a sip. A look of surprise and then pleasure crossed her features. She took another sip. “Mmm.”
“Now for the main attraction.”
She made a motion like she was using a knife and fork to cut something.
“That is one of the beautiful things about burgers and fries—you eat them with yer hands. Oh, I suppose some people might use cutlery but these,” he wiggled his fingers, “are the utensils of choice for most.”
After her first few tentative bites, she ate the burger and fries with gusto.
It had been an enlightening day for Mary. So many things swirled through her thoughts as she ate the burger and fries. He was right about her loving them. The “fries” turned out to be fried potatoes—what she would call chips. They had become very popular in Scotland over the last twenty years and she was fond of them. When he mentioned “ketchup” she almost shuddered. She had never cared for any of the brown sauces that people in her time called ketchup. But this ketchup was entirely different. Thick and red, the sauce had the slight sourness of vinegar but was also the tiniest bit sweet. The salty fries dipped in the tangy sauce were scrumptious.
The burger—a kind of sandwich—was also delicious. She loved beef but wondered if other ground meats were served this way.
“Hmm, ye look lost in thought.”
She laughed. He noticed absolutely everything. How could she ask this question? She pointed to the patty of ground beef then made a sound in the back of her throat that she hoped was close enough to the lowing of a cow.
He smiled. “Ye communicate very well for someone who can’t speak. Aye, the meat is beef.”
She nodded. Then pointed at it again before making the bleating sound of a sheep and the snorting of a pig. She burst into giggles. She was dead certain she’d never made animal sounds at the dining table before.
He also laughed. “Aye, burgers can be made of other ground meat—lamb, pork, turkey even ostrich and bison. But for the most part, burgers are made of beef although turkey burgers are pretty common. If a restaurant makes other kinds of burgers, the menu will indicate the kind of meat used.”
The fact that he referred to a restaurant made her wonder if people ever made them at home. She pointed to the burger, then to the kitchen and mimed cooking something.
“I’m not sure I understand.”
She tried again, pointing to him, then the kitchen and mimed cooking.”
“Can I cook? Aye, I’ve lived alone most of my life. I had to learn to fend for myself.”
He’d always been alone? She couldn’t imagine why. He was such a kind man. But that wasn’t exactly the answer to her question. She pointed at the burger and then him.
“Oh, can I cook burgers? Yes. They are pretty easy. However the best burgers are grilled over open flames—like these.”
After dinner, Gerald made tea and they settled into the comfortable chairs. “When we decided to bring dinner in, I said I wanted to learn more about ye, and that’s true. Ye intrigue me.”
She couldn’t help but wonder why. She gave him a questioning look.
“Why? So many reasons. I find yer enthusiasm and willingness to embrace this new life charming. But there’s more to it than that. Ye exude warmth and kindness. Without saying a word, ye make people smile. Ye make me smile. Ye’re a refreshing change from most women.”
She frowned and again, silently asked why.
He chuckled. “I’m not sure I know the reason. I think part of it is that ye don’t censor yerself—ye don’t hide what ye’re thinking.”
She was still confused.
“Perhaps some examples would help ye understand. Take today for instance, most of the women that I know, or have dated would have probably opted to visit an art museum. Now, there’s nothing at all wrong with that. But I think sometimes they choose to visit an art museum because they think that’s what I would want—or be impressed by. Or even worse, they wouldn’t have offered an opinion at all about what they wanted to do, leaving me to guess. On the other hand, ye didn’t hesitate a moment when I asked. Ye wanted to see one of the most iconic tourist spots in New York. Because of that, I was able to suggest a few other things ye might find interesting too. As a result, I had a wonderful time with ye.”
She understood what he said, but wasn’t quite sure why someone wouldn’t just say what they wanted to do. Then it occurred to her, in the many years she spent with James, she had never once mentioned her longing to go to America. Maybe he too had harbored a secret wish to do the same and assumed that she wouldn’t want to. Then she realized, it wasn’t just a general desire to come to America. It had been a dream she shared with Jock. It wasn’t really the same thing without him.
He continued, “The fact is, I have been to all the places we saw today. However, seeing them with ye, watching yer reactions made it seem as if I was seeing it all again for the first time. And in a sense I was. I saw things through yer eyes. That’s something I couldn’t have done if ye’d remained cool all day.”
Cool?
He read her confusion. “Cool doesn’t just mean chilly now. It is slang for several different things. Generally if something is described as cool, it means it’s good or popular. The same thing can be true if used to describe a person. It suggests they’re fun, or that minor things don’t bother them. But it can also be used to describe someone who is detached and doesn’t reveal what they are thinking or feeling. It’s kind of the polar opposite of enthusiastic.” He looked thoughtful for a moment before adding, “Honestly, I’m not sure I realized just how much I valued enthusiasm in others. And now that I look back, it’s been years since I’ve met a woman with the kind of zeal ye have.” He sat quietly pensive for a moment.
She wondered who that woman was. She knew he wasn’t married now, but she wasn’t sure if he had been in the past.
When he looked up and met her gaze again she pointed at him, then her ring finger, and motioned backwards.
“Was I married in the past? Very briefly.”
The wistfulness in his tone was heartbreaking. Even though she knew the answer, she pointed at him, then put both hands over her heart.
“Yes, I loved her very much.”
Mary frowned. Had his wife died? She closed her eyes, leaned back and crossed her hands over her chest as if lying in a coffin.
He sighed heavily. “Aye, we were separated by death. A tragic accident.”
Making a talking motion with her hand she pointed to him and then herself.
“Tell ye about her? Not tonight. Not yet. Someday. The memories are too painful.”
She nodded, pointed to her heart, made a breaking motion with her hands and then pointed to the floor.
“Ye’re very intuitive Marilyn. Aye, my heart was broken then and I’ve never quite gotten over it. It’s been almost forty-seven years.”
Well, she certainly understood that. Hadn’t her heart ached for Jock for the last thirty-five years? She nodded sadly and pointed to herself.
“Ah, Marilyn, I’m sorry. For all intents and purposes ye’ve only just lost yer husband.”
She had no way of telling him that it wasn’t her current husband she’d been thinking of. This line of thinking had clearly saddened him. She wanted to change the subject, but couldn’t think of a way to do that.
Apparently he had the same idea. “I didn’t mean for this conversation to be about me or take such a gloomy turn. Would ye like to watch a movie? Or maybe play a game? Backgammon perhaps?”
She grinned and mimed throwing dice. She loved playing Backgammon. James had taught her how.
“Backgammon it is then.”
She quite enjoyed playing the game with him. Silences didn’t feel awkwardly in need of filling. At the end of one game she glanced at the clock, shocked to see how late it was.
“Oh, Marilyn, I’m sorry. I wasn’t paying attention to the clock. I should get ye home.”
She didn’t argue with him, but neither did she regret a single minute of the time they’d spent together.
He drove her home and when she mimed that he could let her out at the door he flatly refused.
“Call me old-fashioned, but I believe in escorting a lady to her door.”
She smiled, very glad that he was old-fashioned because it meant staying in his company a little longer.
When they reached her door she mimed pouring a cup of tea.
“As lovely as that would be, I shouldn’t. It’s very late.”
