“ I have come to realize that when I cannot move, I’ve gone as deep as I can go.”

Mercy Jane fought through the nausea long enough to look in the face in the mirror and say the words.

When she couldn’t take it anymore, she wretched into the toilet, and put her face to the cool tile on the unfamiliar bathroom floor. She didn’t care if it was clean; it just felt good at the moment.

She went back, and couldn’t tell if it was memory, or travel

—–

The first time it happened, it was terrifying.

Mercy had just laid down to nurse the baby, Jeremiah, an hour after dinner, when she had put the middle children to bed with the help of the older girls, and finished cleaning the house.

Having a nursing baby helped to lessen the loneliness that Ollie left for Mercy Jane, his bride 15 of years. Now, she was almost an old woman with 12 children. And no husband on a farm that needed to be worked. Thank God for 12 blessings.

It was funny that she thought she was lonely with all of those young ones.

Ollie Jr. and the other of the three oldest boys, the twins Matt and Mark were good to organize the work on the farm. She wanted the middle boys, Luke, Jack and Jimmy (and secretly the girl twins Sarah and Elizabeth, also Esther) to go to school. They were all so smart.

The oldest of them all, Rachel, 14, seemed to be content to look after sweet Mary Margaret, whose spine curved like a willow instead of standing like an oak. She gave Mercy such joy, but she had too much work to do give her the attention Rachel could. She thought Rachel would make a good teacher, but she was content on the farm, taking care of her siblings.

Mercy Jane wished for the moon and the stars for her children, especially the last, Jeremiah. She often wondered what the future would hold. They would experience many years past 1934. She marveled at the wonders they would witness.

They would see the world she was never able to see.

That night, she was dreaming of what the world would be like in 1966, when Jeremiah would be her age.

The moon was full and was shining in on Mercy Jane from the window in the corner of the room, it’s large yellow-orange orb blocking out everything else in the sky from where she was laying. The huge blood moon was full of omens for the old folks, but for Mercy, it seemed that she could knock on the craters if she opened the window and put her fist out of it.

She was dozing, Jerry’s rhythmic six-month old snoring putting her to sleep. Her eyes were opening and closing, her eyelids shutters for the blood moon that seemed to be right in front of her face. After a few minutes, Mercy Jane woke with a start, throat parched and feeling a thirst like no other.

Mercy Jane had lived all of her 32 years in the southeast Texas heat and humidity, but tonight she could not seem to bear it any longer.

Something drew her to the bottle of Fire-water that was under the bed. Aunt Martha had put it there when Mercy Jane gave birth to Rachel 14 years earlier.

“Water from the Fire will ensure that the birth-water of your children will be pure and will float you to heaven, should you cross over in this birthing bed.”

Mercy didn’t dare say what she was thinking of as a response to Aunt Martha. A mash on the mouth was not what she needed while in labor and she knew the old woman would not hesitate to give her one, even when she was delivering a child.

She just thought of Martha’s sister Mary, Mercy Jane’s mother, who had crossed over in the Fire.  Mercy Jane wished her baby self was enough to make Mary want to stay.

It was time to push and she didn’t really think of the water until Martha repeated the refrain during the next 10 childbirths. And she hadn’t wanted to hear it during childbirth number 8, four years earlier, when the third set of twins floated to heaven instead of into her arms.

This night was the only time she had thought of the water from the river outside of childbirth and cleaning. She scooted out of the bed, careful not to wake the baby. She stood down and looked at him in the moonlight, his sandy brown densely curling hair swirling away from the prominent widow’s peak on his forehead.

That widow’s peak was a sign of all of Mercy Jane’s children. It was a mark from her Carrington side of the family. She brushed his hair back from his lightly sweating forehead, gathered him up and tiptoed with him to the next room, where Rachel was sleeping. As Mercy lay him down beside his sister, Rachel instinctively turned and embraced the baby.

How she loved her children! A wave of emotion overtook her as she kissed their foreheads in sleep. Affection was rare in the sunlight. There was no time.

Mercy walked back into her room and stared at the moon. Then she closed her eyes and wished for more time. More time to love, more time to see, more time to do.

As the heat washed over her and the thirst returned suddenly, she took off her shift dress and stood in the window uncovered.

She was surprised at how easy it was, and how unashamed she felt. This was the first time she was totally naked in this room and not taking a bath. Mercy Jane certainly didn’t stand in front of the window when unclothed. Even though the nearest neighbors were two miles away.

“If they see me this way….” Mercy Jane giggled. Something had come over her with the heat.

Biggest thing of all was the thirst.

Suddenly, she was on her knees, reaching for the bottle of water under the bed. When she came up with it, she sat down on the bed, thinking of how 15-year-old river water would taste. She held the bottle up to her face and reveled in its coolness. It felt good.

She tentatively uncorked the bottle and sniffed the liquid. The only smell that met her nostrils was like clean linen on the line. Her mouth watered for the refreshment.

Looking at the moon, and not thinking of anything but an end to her thirst, she drank long and deep and it seemed that the water in the bottle didn’t end until her thirst was over.

Mercy Jane smiled and almost laughed. She felt unreasonably happy. She felt like she was in her mother’s arms. She lie down on the bed, hugging herself with a smile on her face and immediately fell asleep.

Mary was talking to her.

“I could always tell that you have a beautiful mind, girl. Not ugly like mine. Do you want to go forward, or back?” Mary looked wistful as she sat on the bed next to her daughter.

Mercy reached for her mama, but then put her arms down.

“I love you mama, but I have to go forward.” The dream was unlike any other she’d ever had. But Mercy was calm.

Mary nodded. “Good choice, girl. Go out and see.”

Instead of going out of the house, she fell deeper asleep.

—

She woke up, head pounding and dizzy as all get out. But she was cool though. She looked up and saw a fan somehow floating above her, turning on its own. She tried to figure it out.

“Jerry! Jerry! Breakfast is ready.”

There was a woman screaming from the next room. Mercy sat up and bolted to the door. She didn’t want her waking up her children. As she opened the door, an unfamiliar kitchen appeared just beyond it. This wasn’t her house. This wasn’t anybody’s house. This was somebody’s flat.

How did she get here?

The woman saw her, just before she slammed the door shut and stumbled back over to the bed.

Half a minute later, the woman came barreling in the room and yelled at her.

“Jeremiah Oliver Elder! What the hell are you doing?”

The woman crossed her arms and cocked her hip.

“Get cho triflin’ ass up!”

Mercy looked up from her hands and wondered who this woman was.

And why was she addressing her by her youngest male child’s name?