Trespass

Chapter 7:

Rupture

~an excerpt

For the first few minutes, no one spoke. Danielle chewed contentedly and looked around the kitchen. It reminded her of a café she and her parents had stopped at in Wisconsin. They’d eaten the best pie there. Her parents commented favorably about the stout coffee. The café was decorated in much the same way that this kitchen was, except here it was much homier. It was authentic and real. The café was cute, but in comparison, it seemed a bit forced. This house was full of charm, warmth and grace.

“Thank you, Ma’am,” Paign said to his aunt Åshild Knutson, the younger sister of Paign’s mother. She’d known Paign his entire life, often babysitting him as an infant.

She patted him on the head like he was a young boy, and replied, “Call me ‘Aunt,’ young man, or I will smack you with this spatula.”

“Yes, Ma—Auntie Åshild,” Paign grinned. “Your pancakes are wonderful, as always.”

“Yes, Ma’am!” Danielle agreed, lifting up her plate for a second helping. “It’s kind of weird and wonderful to be having a second breakfast today, since Paign and I had a hearty breakfast before parting for here.”

Anders set his fork down, and jumped into the conversation. “You know, I guess we’ve never talked about this before, but because when you two, or our large stone friends, part time and space to go hither and yon, there’s really no reason for us to expect that the time you’re going to is precisely the same you just left.”

“Right,” Freida said. “But isn’t that obvious? If you’re traveling from one time to another time, it’s got to be different.”

“That’s not what I mean,” Anders replied. “What I mean is that just because it’s night when you leave from wherever you were that it’s not necessarily going to be night when you arrive at your intended destination.”

“So, what you’re saying,” Danielle interjected, “is that just because it was just after breakfast time in my house when we left, it isn’t inevitable that it will be just after breakfast time wherever we’re going. It could be later, or earlier. As it was with this arrival.”

“Right!” Anders said. “It could have even been winter where you left and summer where you arrive.”

“Hm,” Paign mused. “It’s interesting that so far that hasn’t posed too great a problem for us. Otherwise, we’d have to adapt pretty quickly to unexpected weather situations.”

“That’s curious, though,” Danielle replied.

“Why’s that?” Freida asked.

“When we’ve parted around with one of our gargoyle friends, they seem to know what to expect where we’re going,” Danielle answered. “Like if it will be cold or whatever.”

“I guess that’s true,” Anders agreed. “Do you think that you and Paign could do that now? You know, if you put your mind to it? Or maybe learn the skill with more practice?”

Paign cocked his head to one side. “Good question, cousin. I guess we’ll find out soon enough.”

“But not before I have a chance to have more of your pancakes, Mrs. Knutson,” Danielle said with a big smile. “I wish my folks would have pancakes for dinner more often. As it is Paign and I skipped over lunch today, but then since we arrived we’ve only spent a few hours getting caught up here, right after parting from home. And at this point, I don’t care to think any more about the travails of time travel. I am curious about your name, though, ma’am. Would you be all right with telling me about it?”

Åshild dished up the remainder of the pancakes, mostly onto Paign’s plate, but she kept three for herself. She was a petite woman, with a slighter build than Gudrun Macy, Paign’s mother. She reminded Danielle of Bettina, Paign’s sister. They had the same eyes. Though Danielle and her parents had considerable experience and time spent with the Macy’s, Freida’s parents, Johann and Heidi Skulstad, as well as Anders, she had never met his mother before this day. She knew Anders had a sister, too, but that they didn’t get along.

“Certainly, young lady,” she replied. “My name comes from ‘Ås,’ for ‘God,’ and ‘hild,’ for ‘battle.’ So, it means ‘God of battle.’”

“Oh, my!” Danielle cried. “That explains a lot about Anders. He comes from brave stock.”

“I suppose, dear, although I’ve never fancied myself as being well-named,” Åshild replied. “On the other hand, the name of our beloved, lovely Freida is perfect.”

Freida blushed. “Oh, Mrs. Knutson! You are too kind.”

“You know I’ve never asked you what your name means, Freida,” Danielle cried. “What does it mean?”

Freida blushed more deeply and shook her head.

Anders quickly replied, “It means ‘beautiful’ or ‘beloved.’” Then his face flushed and he hastily got up to pour more coffee into his mug.