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The frosty grass crunched beneath my boots, brown leaves still dropping from the trees as the iced breeze rattled my bones. I pulled my cloak around me tightly, making my way out of the main town and towards the woods that lay just beyond. There shed be. My mother.
I had never thought that I'd see her again. I'd chosen Ivar, chosen remaining here in this distant time over everything else.
One of two things would happen when I reached the woods. Either I'd realise that the drink and excitement the night before had got to me, that I'd imagined my mother being at my wedding because I missed her so, or I'd reach the forest and see her as clear as the night before. And what was I to do then? What was I to do when I confirmed that this was, truly, my mother.
I could hear my heart pounding against my ribs, screaming out like a siren over a busy motorway.
"Are you afraid?" I could hear Jill's voice as clear as day, her arm lacing mine as we paused at the bottom of the large stone steps - our entryway to everything we'd always dreamt of. Home. Our new home. This was our destiny, we both knew it. Finally a place where we belonged. For so many years, we'd talked of this day, of what we'd do when we neared those steps and entered the old university campus. And here we were. Finally there.
"Afraid?" I giggled, turning to look at her with curiosity blooming in my warm brown eyes. Her lips also parted, a small sound of laughter exiting them as she gave my hand a squeeze.
"Into the unknown, we go." She responded calmly, brown curls swaying in the wind as she turned her sights back towards the oak doors and began walking again.
Into the unknown.
"Hildr." My voice was scarcely there, lips dry and throat closing up as she spun around to look at me. Her grey hair was black, and had clearly been set in pin curls - as I suppose was the fashion of her time. She must've just come back from the war. Must've only just escaped the horrors of the trenches only to be dragged into yet another damn war. It never ended, did it? The killing? It just went on and on forever, no matter where or when you went. Though, I suppose if I had hoped for a peaceful life then I certainly married the wrong man. Only months before had I heard him explain to his brothers that peace was, in fact, a dirty word. I couldn't help but suppose that that was the secret truth of all ambitious men. Except Ivar was the only one bold enough to say so.
My mother curtseyed, a gesture that made me chuckle over how utterly modern it was of her. She wasn't doing such a good job of blending in with the time period. Though, I suppose I wasn't either. At least she'd managed to pick up a fair amount of the language. That was something, wasn't it? Dad would've been proud.
"I-Iris, was it?" She returned, playing with her fingers nervously as she bit her bottom lips, trying to find the words to continue. "The wife of Ivar The Boneless?"
I smiled. The title was still odd for me. And, knowing that she knew was even stranger. "I suppose I am now, yes." I answered, walking over to sit beside her on a tree stump, eyes turning up to her as I gestured for her to sit beside me. She graciously did. "You speak English. Modern English."
"So do you." She observed, eyeing me cautiously. I supposed her trip had not been as easy as mine. At least I had a fair knowledge of the period. And I'd been lucky enough to be taken in by the Ragnarssons, lucky enough to gain their trust. To gain Ivar's trust. She had not had the same experience. And trusting me probably wasn't going to be easy. "How did you know that I would understand you last night?"
I smiled again, cheeks reddening slightly as I contemplated what I should tell her. How much did she need to know?
"I know you." I answered calmly, not wanting to sound too crazy and drive her away so soon. "In the future."
Her brows furrowed, fingers reaching up to squeeze the bridge of her nose as she contemplated my words. "I don't know you." She muttered more to herself than to me. "I- I've never seen you before. How?"
"I knew you in the year 1965." I answered again, making her eyes widen as they darted up to stare at me. "You and your husband were older then but I recognized you nonetheless."
"1965?" She whispered, voice filled with awe and astonishment. I could see the tears welling in her eyes, her face lighting up as she realised the meaning of my words. "I made it home then? I made it back to him, back to Robert?"
I nodded again, feeling my own emotions bubbling up as I thought about my father - about home. Lord I missed him so much. And I could see that she did too. "And you have a daughter." I explained, only making her joy increase and her smile widen. "She's born in July 1948 - a Cancer - and she grows up to study History at Oxford University where you and Robert teach."
"And you know her?" She had to cover her lips to muffle the sons that left them - tears of joy and overwhelming shock. I suppose she'd expected something surprising from me, but not this.
Being around her made me feel something that I'd not felt in so long. My mother. Was there anything quite like the love between a mother and daughter? I knew Ivar felt the same about his own mother, God rest her soul. Surely he'd understand how I felt now. Surely?
But if I really believed that, why had I not told him about her last night?
"I know her very well." I smiled brightly, holding onto her hand. It was surreal, actually being able to touch her again. I never thought I'd be able to. I thought she was gone, dead, and I'd never see her again. But she was here, alive, flesh and blood. And now that I'd gotten her back, I wasn't sure that I could bare losing her again. "Her name-" I choked on my own words, Hildr watching me in anticipation. "Her name is Iris." I let out finally, watching as she exhaled in shock. "And she loves you so much. She spent a year trying to get back to you and she never thought she'd see you again."
"Iris?"
I couldn't help but weep, another stray tear rolling down my cheek and hitting the floor. "It's me, ma." I answered her silent question. "I'm your daughter."
