Page 6 of The Ember and the Emerald

She shifted her weight from foot to foot. “You told me to bring an elixir of life to free your friend from a cage of metal.”

A cage of metal. My gaze flicked to Jasher beneath the tarp. That had to mean this. Hope flared. “Did you bring it?”

“Is that him?” she asked, ignoring the question and peering behind me. “The executioner?”

“Yes.” My ears twitched. Did I hear… muted growls seeping through the tarp? “I’d love to hear everything we spoke about—after I give him that elixir.”

Back to wringing her fingers. “There’s not much to tell. Our interactions were always brief. You spoke more with Ahav.” Her chin trembled. Until her lids narrowed to slits and fury frosted her features. “You’ve seen the damage the monstra inflict. I locked up the elixir. Your pet doesn’t deserve to be free.”

Angry Momma meant stubborn Momma. “He’s not my pet. But can we start at the beginning and work our way to how you arrived in Kansas? Help me understand what’s going on.” We’d circle back to the elixir.

Head high, shoulders back, she waddled a circle around me. “Soldiers brought you and your creature to the king. You claimed Ian—the beloved and trusted guardian of our armies—betrayed us. No one believed you, but you proved yourself fast. When the end came…when you…” Her eyes glassed with tears. “You sent me through a door between worlds, and I woke up here with a handful of possessions, including the elixir and a note telling me that my name is Sandra Ori, I’m a widow, I must preserve the elixir, and find Daniel Shaker.”

My head spun, realization dawning. I did go back, and she had already lived my future.

No wonder Mom considered me a great and terrible oracle. I had seen the future and knew what was coming.

With a little groan, she massaged her lower back. “If we continue this conversation, I must sit. But I’d rather not do it here, near him. Let’s go to the house.”

Leave Jasher?

“He’ll be fine.” Her firm tone allowed no argument. “No one uses this barn.”

He wasn’t fine, but I nodded. I didn’t move away just yet. Rather, I knelt and slipped the tarp from his face. Still metal, but no longer growling.

Caressing his cheek, I whispered, “I’ll come back with that elixir. Everything will be okay.” I needed him to hear it, even if he couldn’t respond.

Tamping down my dismay, I followed my mother outside. The bright sunlight nearly blinded me, but I welcomed the warm, fresh air.

As we made our way through a path cut into the field, my vision adjusted, and I drank in the sights. A well-loved crop of soybeans stretched as far as my eyes could see, each row lush and green. Leaves were yellowing, workers busy testing the soil, uprooting weeds, and examining newly developed pods.

They paused and watched us. I recognized a few of them as younger versions of people I’d once known; those who’d stayed with us for years, until my father’s battle with lung cancer forced us to let them go.

My attention returned to my mother, and tides of affection crashed over me. I adored this woman, who’d lavished me with tender kindness and thoughtful attentiveness the first eight years of my life. I’d missed her so much. Had stored a thousand questions I wished to ask her. Had sobbed for her when I’d gotten my first period, shopped for my prom dress, and experienced my first heartbreak.

Why had I not seized the opportunity to tell her who I was in Hakeldama? Why let her believe I was merely some random oracle?

As we neared the farmhouse, nestled within a rolling plain, nostalgia warred with curiosity. So much was the same, yet different. Whitewashed siding hadn’t yet weathered. Potted geraniums hung along the wraparound porch, the blooms thriving rather than withered. Bright blue shutters framed open windows, releasing the heavenly aroma of fresh-baked bread.

The essence of my childhood. My home.

“What will you tell my—your new husband about me?” I asked.

Mom glanced at me over her shoulder, confused. “Daniel is my friend, not my husband.”

So they weren’t married yet. Interesting. “You were at the chapel yesterday with rollers in your hair, as if you were preparing for a special event. I assumed you’d tied the knot.”

“I work there.” She paused for a moment. “When I first arrived in this world, I lacked everything necessary for survival. Daniel helped me. Gave me a place to stay, food to eat. Got me a job.”

“Does Dad—Daniel know you come from a different world?”

“He does. I’ve shared my memories with him as they’ve returned.”

Great. But belief and tolerance weren’t the same thing. Did he believe her, or simply love her enough not to argue?

Wood planks groaned as we climbed the porch steps. Then the sound of hinges joined the chorus, the front door opening.

“There you are,” a familiar voice boomed.