Household Gods

The children’s section was its usual determinedly cheerful self. Nicole approached it quickly, but with a kind of reluctance. Yes, there was the book she’d noticed a week or two before – or a year and a half, depending on how she wanted to look at it. She pulled it off the shelf, taking a moment to enjoy the heft and feel of it, before she let her eyes focus on the cover. There was the bear in ceremonial armor, and the small pig beside him bearing a legionary standard. Both were accurate as to details. She remembered that pleated skirt, oh too well. And that standard as it had gone by in parade.

So maybe that was what she’d spun the whole of the dream out of, from this and from any number of movie epics. Maybe -

With trembling fingers, Nicole opened Winnie Ille Pu and began to read. And she could. She could read the Latin translation of the book she’d read to Kimberley so often in English. She read it just as easily as she’d read Winnie the Pooh.

“I was,” she whispered. “I was there.” Nothing could have happened to her in six days of unconsciousness at West Hills Regional Medical Center to make her read Latin as easily as she read the daily paper. Liber and Libera had given it to her as a gift, a sort of bonus for traveling in time. Obviously they’d let her keep it when they sent her back. Forgot I had it, probably, she thought, not uncharitably. Gods were busy beings. Why shouldn’t they leave her with a gift she couldn’t use, and a proof she needed?

She almost took Winnie Ille Pu up to the register, but she stopped. She’d found the proof she needed. If she took the book home with her, someone would ask questions she didn’t want to answer. She could do without the book – and if she could, she would. There was a lesson of Carnuntum in action.

She had to get herself home. Yes, that came next. She was desperately eager to see Kimberley and Justin, and yet she was almost afraid. What if they saw something in her, some change? Frank would never notice, and Dawn was too conscientiously nice to say anything, but kids were kids. If Justin started to scream at the sight of her, and Kimberley wanted to know, loudly, why Mommy was different – what would Nicole say? What could she say?

That she’d been sick and now was better, that was what. And that she was really, really glad to be home with her kids again.

Frank’s Acura was in the driveway, filling it. That was Frank all over. Nicole sighed and parked on the curb. Her heart thudded as she extricated herself from the car, shouldered her purse, and walked – not so briskly as usual – toward the front door.

It had been only a week for the kids, but so much longer for her. There were going to be things about them she’d forgotten, things that might arouse questions. But – she shrugged. She’d got by with Lucius and Aurelia. She’s manage here. Here, at least, she knew what she was doing. Even with all the strangeness, the sense of belonging, of fit. was unmistakable. This was her world. She knew its rules. She could improvise without getting into trouble.

Just for a moment, she wondered how Umma was faring, back on the other side of time. Had her own spirit returned, to be confused by all the changes? Or was her body lying in her bedchamber as Nicole’s had lain in the hospital: empty, untenanted? In that world, that was a death sentence. There were no facilities for maintaining people in comas. She’d die, or her body would, if her spirit was already long gone.

No. Nicole wouldn’t think that way. Gods didn’t have to be fair, but she persisted in thinking that they might choose to be. They’d have brought Umma back. And she’d have found a way to cope with the sudden shift in time. Lucius would do well, and Julia, who’d been both friend and ally to Nicole for so long. She even paused to mourn Aurelia, and Titus Calidius Severus who’d been her lover and her friend.

Then she stood in front of the door. Before she could fumble for her keys, it opened. Dawn stood there: blond hair pulled back in a ponytail, cheekbones, and ripe figure on display in tight T-shirt and short cutoffs – Barbie come to life. She was smiling. She actually looked – and sounded – pleased to see Nicole. “Nicole! I’m so glad you’re feeling better.”

“Thanks,” Nicole said, returning civility for civility. Then, out of the year and a half she’d been away, she said as she wouldn’t have done before, “And thanks for looking after the kids.”

“Hey, no problem,” Dawn said, as if she meant it.

Then Nicole didn’t have to bother about being civil. Two small figures erupted past Frank’s girlfriend, in a hot contest to see who could run the fastest and scream “Mommy!” the loudest. Kimberley probably won on points, but Justin took the prize for enthusiasm. They launched themselves at her like a pair of rockets. She had just enough time to brace herself before they knocked her down.