The ring on the table mocked her. Her engagement ring. Daniel had gotten it for her. He'd promised he would, and he did. With shaking fingers, she reached down and plucked the metal band from the table. It felt lighter than it looked, and now that it was closer to her, she could see a more engraved design of a vine. Inside the vines was something she couldn't place. A symbol of some sort. If she'd cared, she would have investigated it further. As it was, she didn't.
Slowly, sadly, she placed the ring over her trembling finger. She slid it on, shaking harder as it got closer to the base. Daniel should be doing this. Daniel should be the one to place it on her fingers. This wasn't right. None of it was right.
Lizzie sank to the bench seat surrounding the table, unable to make her legs move momentarily. Air didn't feel like was reaching her lungs, and she felt she could faint at any moment. Her hair fell from the intricate braid she'd placed it in earlier around her head, and she didn't try to put it back.
For a long time, she sat there staring at the ring, thinking back on what Frederick had told her about Daniel's death.
Daniel's death. It didn't sound right. He was twenty years old. He wasn't supposed to die. Not in this stupid war. Not in any way.
When the sun began to set, Lizzie's mother came through the door carrying parcels from the mercantile. Lizzie saw her from the corner of her eye, but she didn't look in her direction. She felt her body rocking in short spasms, but couldn't stop it. Wasn't even sure she wanted to stop it.
"Lizzie?" Her mother walked toward her. "Lizzie, what's wrong? Are you hurt?"
Such a silly question. One would have to feel to be hurt, and Lizzie felt nothing. "He's gone," she stated so matter-of-factly it surprised even her how calm she sounded while rocking like that.
"Who's gone?" Her mother put her fabric parcels down, tossed a few envelopes to the side, and ran to sit next to Lizzie on the bench. "What are you talking about?"
Lizzie twirled the ring around her finger. Such a pretty ring. Much more grand than she ever expected from Daniel. "He's gone."
"Who!" her mother asked again. This time with more emotion.
"Daniel." Lizzie showed her mother the ring. "Daniel's gone."
"How do you know?"
Lizzie shook her head, while still rocking. "A man named Frederick. He was with him. He saw it. Daniel's never coming back."
"Oh, sweetheart." Her mother tried to pull Lizzie into a hug, but the girl refused to move. She kept rocking, kept looking at her new ring. A ring she would have loved to show off, if Daniel had really given it to her. Now what use did she have for it?
"Mother. I need to be alone for a while. Please. I'll be in the barn." Lizzie didn't wait for her mother to answer. She might have said something, but honestly, Lizzie didn't care. She walked out of the cabin with her head held high, outside in the late afternoon sun, and toward the barn. She knew exactly what she'd do when she got there.
****
Preston paced the rock quarry, jumping from boulder to boulder. Shane saw him before Preston saw Shane, and couldn't help but shake his head. The idiot was going to have a coronary.
Preston wasn't the average southern-looking guy, not that Shane was either to be honest. Neither had the most 'Southern' of looks. No belt buckles in sight. But Preston was more 'out there' than Shane. Preston's mohawked hair was pink, bright pink. A shade he perfected every other week to keep it the same bold hue. It led to lots of taunts at school, and Preston enjoyed every one of them. Preston was a rare bird that liked making people feel uncomfortable in their own skin. He loved it when people shied away from his five eyebrow piercings that connected to the large safety pin he had from his lip to his cheek piercing, attached on the inside of his mouth. His ears were being stretched by black gauges and he had more tattoos than Shane cared to know about.
You'd think that someone as outcast as Preston wouldn't freak out over something like burning a church down, but there he was, pacing like a caged kitten. Irritated, Preston took his phone from his skinny jeans and forced it to his ear.
"Calm down, man. I'm here." Shane yelled from above. Preston turned in a huff and slammed his phone shut.
"Took you long enough. Get down here." He pointed next to him, and Shane wasn't thrilled about being ordered around by the little punk. Sure, Preston and he had burned down the church together, so one would think they were best buds, but nothing could be further from the truth. They tolerated each other for the band. In fact, it had shocked Shane when Preston approached him about burning the church down. He'd known him since first grade when he'd been blonde, but they'd never been extremely close. Then again, he did like him much better than he liked Drake.
"Down here! Now!" Preston ordered, and Shane only complied to shut him up. If Preston was spazzing out this bad, someone could hear him. That would be very bad.
Shane jumped down the few feet between them and got as close to Preston as possible, hoping to intimidate the little turd. He clamped his hands on Preston's boney elbows and squeezed tightly to get his point across. "You have to relax. You're having a fit over nothing."
"Nothing?" Preston scooted from Shane's hands and slapped them away. "My dad came home this morning and asked me, point blank, if I had something to do with the church burning down."
Shane rolled his eyes. "Can you blame him? Look at you, man. You have drawn this huge target on your very pink head. If something bad happens, of course they are going to think it was you."
"That's prejudice."
"That's life, and actually, a pretty fair assessment considering you did have something to do with the church burning."
"Don't remind me." He groaned and ran his fingers through his not as high as normal Mohawk. Shane had never seen him so unmade up. Usually, he wore eyeliner and sprayed his hair within an inch of his life. Today he looked normal, well, normal for him. He had on a very light coat of eyeliner and a minimum amount of gray eye shadow. The safety pin thing from his cheek to his lip wasn't exactly normal though. It was actually pretty sick, in an awesome way.
"Man, seriously, you have got to chill out. People will ask questions. Let them. My mom gave me the third degree this morning too. You don't see me flying off the handle."
Preston's eyes nearly leapt from their sockets. "She asked you? Why do people assume it was us?"
Shane just stared at him until he got it.
"What did you tell her?" Preston finally asked. Even though it was June and hot in Dixon, he had his hands folded together like they were freezing. Shane had on khaki pants and a black short sleeved shirt and he was still hot.
Every muscle in him inwardly cringed, and it took everything he had not to yell at Preston. What exactly did he think he told her?
Shane kept his face very straight. "Everything. I told her everything."
Preston turned a funny color of pale. "Everything?"
This could be fun. "Yup. Everything. Every bit of the truth. Told her it was your idea. That you made me go down there and douse gasoline on that poor old church. You lit a match and bam, up in flames it went."
Preston stared at him for a hard second, and a knowing annoyed look spread over his ugly face. "No, you didn't."
"No. I didn't." Shane smirked just enough for Preston to slap him on the arm. Shane had to admit, it stung a little. Who knew little Preston had that much spunk in him?
"Jerk. What did you actually tell her?"
"Nothing." Shane rubbed his arm and jumped down a few rocks away. When he turned to face Preston again, the boy's hardened expression hadn't changed. "Dude, you've got to stop this. I didn't tell her anything."
"Is she still suspicious?"
"She's my mom. Of course she is. Something bad happened in Dixon so obviously it's my fault. Same ole, same ole. Fortunately, she's too busy to care." He hadn't thought how pitiful that sounded until it came out of his mouth. Then again, it was a good thing his mom worked two jobs. Plus this 'business trip', which he didn't really like, would take her away from home fo
r a few days. Perfect timing. Normally, he liked her working so many hours. It meant she was gone around sixteen hours a day and not around to mess with whatever plans he had going on. At the second, his plans involved the formerly buried, currently taking up space in his room Lizzie Monroe, and getting her the heck out of his life.
"We need to get our stories straight." Preston jumped down next to him. For the first time, Shane noticed his eyes. They were blue and purple underneath and not from artificial means. He didn't look like he'd slept in a while. He really wished the guy would calm down over this. It just happened yesterday.
"Our stories are straight unless you mess it up. I was at home. You went home after rehearsal. We don't know how the church burned nor do we care. It's an old building that no one will miss anyway."
"No one but Lizzie Monroe," Preston muttered under his breath.
"What did you say?"
"What?"
"About Lizzie Monroe. What did you say?"
Preston tilted his head to the side and grinned ever so slightly. "Well, well. Look who's paranoid now."
He could kick himself for showing any cards to Preston. Calm. You have to stay calm. He can't know. "I'm not paranoid. You just mentioned Lonely Lizzie and I wanted to know why."
"Because she's buried in the basement, idiot. I heard the screaming just as much as you did. But I ran, and you should have too. You aren't afraid Lizzie's going to come back and haunt you, are you?"
It was Shane's turn to mutter. "You have no idea."
****
It killed Lizzie that she couldn't move her legs. She wanted to take off and run as fast as she could, out of this bed, out of this house, out of this time.
Sure, in her day, she'd killed herself so she wouldn't have to face home without Daniel. That turned out well for her, didn't it? Now she had no Daniel, no mother, no real home. And no idea how to act in the twenty-first century. There were devices in the room that she had no idea what they were, and Shane wasn't very telling. She took that back. He did tell, but in gibberish she couldn't exactly follow.
She ignored the annoying moving picture contraption Shane had left on for her and instead focused on the oval circle on the ring finger of her left hand. Frederick had given it to her on her last night on Earth. Said it was from Daniel. Said he'd told him to give it to Lizzie as an engagement ring.
She'd slipped the ring on, and then she'd gone out to the barn. If she looked close enough, she could still see a few blood stains from where the red from her wrists saturated the crevices of the delicate etching.
It made her so sad to even look at the ring. Daniel had bought or bartered for it for their future, but they didn't have a future. She might not be in a casket anymore, but Daniel sure was. This ring, this stupid ring, was a constant reminder of what she had and what she'd lost.
She couldn't look at it any more. She stuck her thumb under the band and wiggled until it reached the tip of her finger, threatening to fall.
"Shane, you up yet? There's someone…" The door opened without warning and Shane's sister barged in. When she saw Lizzie still lying on the bed, she stopped mid-sentence and fumbled with the doorhandle. "Uh… Hi. Again."
"Hi." Lizzie quickly pushed the ring back on her finger and tried to sit up straighter against her pillow.. "Cheyenne, is it?"
"Yeah." Cheyenne's brows met in the center of her forehead. "Lizzie, right?"
"Yes. We met last night." That sounded so wrong coming out of her mouth. Her mother would be so disappointed if she knew she'd spent the night in a strange man's bed. Then again, her mother probably hadn't been too happy when she found her dead in the barn.
Her poor mother.
"Right… the role play." Cheyenne bit her lip and waltzed in, scooting her feet across the floor like it was nothing. Lizzie wished she could do the same. "Well, Lizzie, have you seen my brother?"
A question she could answer honestly. "Earlier this morning. He came in, said your mother was home, and that he'd be back in a few hours."
"Oh…" Cheyenne sat down in the rolling chair next to the table and looked at Lizzie quizzically. "And you're still here?"
"Why wouldn't I be?" Lizzie examined Cheyenne. Her pants, shorts Shane called them, weren't as short as the night before, and she had on a white shirt with thin straps that barely held it up. Oh boy. Lizzie could see the crease in the middle of her chest and tried not to look.
She seemed nice enough though. Her smile was warm and compassionate. And she had a pleasant face. "Honey, that's code."
"Code for what?"
"Code for 'I had a great time, now leave and be gone when I get back.'"
Lizzie blinked a few times, not fully comprehending what she was saying. Surely this girl couldn't think she was anything but a virtuous woman. In all her seventeen years, she'd never even kissed a boy. In fact, the only boy who had even seen her ankles was Shane — okay, so maybe she did have a point.
"Your brother and I, we didn't do anything like that." Lizzie didn't feel it was necessary to elaborate to this stranger, but the burn of her cheeks let her know she was blushing. Great. A part of her body that actually worked correctly.
Cheyenne winked and leaned back in the seat. "Of course you didn't, sweetie."
Dear Lord, she didn't believe her. She'd tell the whole town, and they'd be sure to believe her. Lizzie Monroe: whoremonger. Mr. Lawson at the general store would have a fit. And his wife… oh, his wife would love to spread the gossip around. That nosey-nilly thought she was better than everyone else being the choir director at church.
The now familiar weight slammed on Lizzie's chest and she wanted to run away.
Cheyenne leaned up in her chair, her eyes contorted with a mix of concern and 'what is wrong with this girl'. "Um… are you okay?"
"Fine." Such a big lie. They'd know. They'd all know and she'd be the laughingstock of the town…
Except…
"My brother's not worth it, you know?" Cheyenne said with her elbows on her knees. "Don't worry over spending one night with him. You've lasted longer than some girls he's brought home."
Oh dear gracious…
"And besides. It's the twenty-first century. Things like this happen."
But she wasn't from the twenty-first century, now was she… "Not to me."
Cheyenne's brow rose. "Obviously to you."
Obviously…
More than anything, Lizzie wanted to cry or scream or do something besides lie there like a lump and let this girl question her character. Her father would be so upset when he came from the war and found she hadn't been a good—
She shut her eyes. The twenty-first century…
She was in the twenty-first century… She kept forgetting, and she wasn't sure why. Side effect of whatever was keeping her alive, maybe?
Lizzie found a strange comfort in the fact that she wasn't exactly at home. Everyone she knew, everyone who would judge her… everyone who had judged her, would be dead by now. What a curious thing to be comforted by.
She'd miss her mother and her father, of course. Maybe she could get Shane to look them up for her and see what happened to her mother since her father more than likely died like Daniel, but the rest? Not so much. Some of the townfolk in her day were good people on the outside, but the biggest hypocrites in the world inside. Maybe the people in this time were better than that? Cheyenne didn't seem to be the judgmental type, even though she dressed like a…
Now who was judging?
Lizzie felt her chest ease and breath comfortably fill her lungs. Why did her lungs work, but not her legs? Another mystery for another day. "This isn't what you think."
Cheyenne looked intrigued. She leaned back, crossed her long legs, and motioned with her hand. "Please, enlighten me."
Lizzie really didn't know what to say. Shane had already told his sister about her being the Lizzie Monroe, and she didn't believe him. And didn't Shane tell her that if anyone found out who she really was some creepy people would come and take her away?
That didn't sound appealing. So she needed to lie. Great, she was terrible at lying.
Fortunately, Cheyenne's rectangular do-hicky sang a song — at least, she thought it was a song, it sounded more like a coyote screeching with drums. What was wrong with the music now? Did no one enjoy an actual soothing melody?
Cheyenne huffed and grabbed the thing from her teeny pocket. She flipped it open and started reading it like a book. Shane told her it was like a wireless telegraph. Amazing. It would take time, but she'd figure this world out. She had to. Fiddling with the ring around her finger with her thumb, she knew she had no other choice.
"Ugh, Jerk." Cheyenne did some strange motions with her thumbs on the rectangular thingy. "I wish he'd leave me alone."
"Who?" Lizzie asked, pushing the ring back to the base of her finger.
"Drake."
"Drake?" She didn't remember Shane mentioning a Drake.
"Yeah." Cheyenne held the contraption in her hand. "Are you not from around here? Everyone knows Drake."
"I'm not, exactly." Truthfully, she was from right down the road, but Cheyenne didn't need to know that.
"Where are you from… exactly?"
Lizzie wasn't positive how to answer that. She didn't have to because the rectangular thing sang again.
"Good gracious!" Cheyenne grunted as she read it again. "This guy doesn't take no for an answer."
"Drake?"
"Yeah. He's Shane's friend. Not mine. He's in the band with us and thinks he's in love with me."
"And you don't reciprocate?" Lizzie couldn't fathom not loving Daniel.
"That's one way to say it. I mean, we're dating I guess. Made out a few times. Nothing major. He's cute, but he's just so clingy. Won't take no for an answer type. Do you know the kind?"
"Not really? I've only ever liked one guy." Loved was more accurate. Actually, 'love' without the d was even more accurate because she loved him as much now as she did then and didn't know if she could face life without him.
"And I take it the one guy isn't my brother." Cheyenne smirked.
"Your brother is a nice guy. He's been very kind to me, but he isn't the love of my life."
"That's alright. You're just a notch on his belt too. Sorry." She seemed to actually feel bad, maybe. Lizzie didn't know that expression, but it didn't sound good.