Labor of Love

Two

After taking trips of their own to the outhouse, which they all thought was downright disgusting, the trio of men joined their hostess for breakfast. Their heads all pounded with a hangover, which was quickly cured by some herbal, but horrible-tasting concoction she gave them. None of them quite knew what to make of her cooking on an old-fashioned Wood stove, but they were grateful that the food was no more burnt than it woulda been, if cooked on an electric or gas stove.

        Once breakfast’d been consumed and Rikki’d taken care of the dishes–which seemed to surprise the young woman–they all headed back outside. Knowing they weren’t used to the Lifestyle she lived and were feeling unwell on top of it, Marissa delegated relatively easy tasksta them. Bret decided on working with the pair of Horses she owned since he was used to such Animals, the taller blonde settling on feeding her Pigs and Chickens. This left their brunette friend with the choice of helping her in the Garden and Orchard, or cleaning the house.

        He couldn’t explain why, but Bobby felt an attraction to this woman the second he’d clapped eyes on her. Technically being engaged with a wedding date set in three months didn’t matter to him. After all, he wasn’t in 1989 anymore, and he may never get to go back to his own Time.

        Since he’d no other way to explore this attraction, he decided on helping in the Garden and Orchard. At least she’d get more done during what seemed like nowhere near enough Daylight to get it all done in. With extra hands, there’d be more weeding and other care administered to the plants since there really wasn’t much to harvest yet.

        “So, didja really get run outta Town for being a Witch?” he asked, having shortened his stride to walk beside her.

        “Unfortunately,” the young woman answered. “Only one dares come anywhere near my Land’s borders, and that’s only ’cuz he’s a fellow Witch.”

        “Wait, I thought Witches were female,” Bobby said as he looked down at her.

        “On the contrary,” she chuckled. “Witches’re those of the Light, whether male or female–Warlocks’re those of the Dark.”

        “All right, so this one guy’s the only one who comes near ya,” the bassist mused. “So, are ya really a Witch, or is that just one of the misunderstandings of the Times?”

        “It’s no misunderstanding,” Marissa answered. “The Craft’s in my very blood, just like it was for my Ancestors before me.”

        “Eh, not like I really care, as long as ya don’t cast any spells on me,” he chuckled. “I’ma Christian man, but I’ve always been more of a live-and-let-live type.”

        “One of the most fundamental Pagan teachings,” the young woman told him with a grin. “Do no harm, but take no shit.”

        Bobby couldn’t help a laugh as they walked through the gate of her edible Garden. “The way ya talk, I feel like I’m still in 1989.”

        “What?” Her jaw dropped in shock as she closed that gate.

        “Yeah, that’s the Year it’s supposed to be for me, Bret, and Rikki,” the bassist explained. “That’s why we nearly choked on our own spit when ya said we’re in 1839.”

        “Dear Gods,” Marissa breathed. “I’ve Dreamt that I’d meet someone from another Time soon, but I didn’t think there was any Truth to it.”

        As they started checking over her plants, which was pretty much a typical Garden to him, she explained what she meant. Many of her Dreams were actually Visions, oft predicting things before they actually happened. One such recent Dream’d been that she wasta meet a strangely-dressed man from another Time. She’d never gotten a good look at the man’s face, but she knew a few things about him. He was relatively tall, so skinny that he seemed sickly, and had long, Dark hair that oft seemed to stand on End.