Page 83 of My Heart Will Find You

She started to say no, but then she stopped. “I don’t know why all this has happened to me, and finding out it wastruehas twisted my brain around. How do I deal with that?”

“You did change history.”

“My apologies to Mr. Earp, but I think there has to be something more important than that.”

“I agree wholeheartedly,” Henry said. “Maybe ghosts want to be remembered.”

At that, Etta blinked back tears. It was 149 years later, and many of the people she loved were dead. If they were still around, it was as ghosts. She knew what Henry wanted. He was dying to hear the whole story, every second of it. He wanted to record it all.

And maybe he was right. Ghosts did want to be remembered.

She took a drink of her tea. “I guess I should start where the first dream ended. Alice made Max leave the room. I was so angry at him that I wouldn’t open my eyes.”

“You were sleeping?”

“No. When the first dream ended, I fainted. Max caught me and carried me to the couch.” She paused. “He was always carrying me, catching me, lifting me. He takes care of people. He protects them.”

“But that day you weren’t happy with him.”

“No,” Etta said softly. “I wasn’t.”

“So what happened next?” Henry asked. His sandwich was forgotten as he held his pen poised over his notebook. What writer cared about food when there was a good story to be heard?

Three days! Etta dropped her head back against Henry’s chair and thought,Three whole days!

That’s how long she’d been under interrogation by Henry. She’d never talked so much in her life. Or typed so much. She talked; Henry recorded her; Etta typed it all. She was sick of the sound of her own voice. She’d had no idea that writing a book took so much organization and so many details. Endless details.

At first, Henry had been grateful for anything she could tell him. But by the second day, he wanted an outline in chronological order. Hour by hour.

“Did you meet Fred Harvey before or after the four holer?” was one of his questions and yes, he wanted to know all about outhouses. “Who were the witnesses at your wedding?”

“I don’t know. I never saw them again. At least I don’t think I did, but Max had lots of workmen. There were twenty or thirty of them the day I won the cooking contest.”

“Ah, yes, the contest. How much did you win?”

“I didn’t count it. I don’t even remember what I did with the money. Knowing Max, he probably took care of it. Back then, men looked after their wives.”

“Are you saying that you weren’t allowed to handle your own money?”

“I wasn’t saying anything even close to that. Do you have any tequila? I could use about three shots.”

His response was to apologize then go back to his questions. He was relentless.

It was evening now, and Henry was absorbed in his many typed and handwritten pages. Trying not to be seen or heard, she tiptoed out of the room and went outside. Sophie’s house was locked tight. There were no cars on the street as everyone stayed inside. Etta missed restaurants and people and stores.

Yesterday, she called Lester. It wasn’t easy for her as the last time she’d seen him he was sitting on a pony and wearing a beaded headdress. Five minutes into the conversation, she couldn’t resist saying that she’d dreamed about him. She used Henry’s books to explain why she’d imagined being on a buffalo hunt. “You were the chief and you were magnificent.” He listened to it all in such complete silence that she was afraid she was offending him.

But when she slowed down, he said, “It’s always been my favorite animal. I have a buffalo tattoo in a place that you will never see.”

“Really?” She was smiling wide. “Anything more to tell me?”

She said Henry was writing a novel set in 1871, and he was going to put in a buffalo hunt. “He illustrates all his books, so I’ll get him to paint you as the chief.”

“That would be an honor,” Lester said.

They talked for thirty minutes more.

Etta called Alicia, Phillip and Nola, but they were busy and didn’t have much time for chitchat. Alicia loved staying home, and Phillip was getting used to it. When he said he’d taken up welding in the garage, Etta nearly choked. As for Nola, Etta had Amazon deliver her a Winsor & Newton paint set. The whole world might be shut down, but Amazon was still doing overnight deliveries. “Can I send something to 1871 Kansas?” she muttered. “Max would love a big pickup truck. A blue one, like his eyes.”

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