"Oh, I feel much better now." Mitzi was about to scream at her husband for his nonchalant attitude. But instead, she took several deep breaths to regain control of herself before continuing. "Okay, I will admit things are a lot less lawless in the seventeenth century than I imagined. Well, other than the wars raging back and forth and the sack of cities. On the whole, there aren't as many crimes as I would have imagined."
"And she does have that lacrosse stick."
"Shut up about that lacrosse stick. I know for a fact she took my mother's old thirty-eight with her, too. But she ran away," Mitzi complained. "She ran away like. . like we were abusing her or something."
"Our Logan? Run? She walked away with a plan. She didn't run off to become a movie star or to join a circus."
"They don't have circuses in the seventeenth century, do they?"
"You're missing the point. She walked away to get a job. Makes sense, sort of. ."
"She left us with nothing but a note and an empty bed. I'm furious! She should have talked to us like a normal thirteen-year-old."
Allan laughed. "You noticed her bed was made and her room clean."
"Okay, like our thirteen-year-old. We didn't raise her to go haring off after any old thing. We taught her to talk to her parents, not run away from them. Didn't we? Did we fail that badly?"
"She's not eight anymore, Mitzi. She's been chompin' at the bit for some time. The seventeenth century doesn't have the child labor laws that the twenty-first did. You can't keep her in her room playing with Barbie dolls and collecting college brochures until she's eighteen."
"Barbie dolls? I wouldn't dare give her one of those. She wouldn't talk to me for a month. And she was collecting military brochures. She tried to apply to the NavalAcademy before the Ring of Fire, did you know that?"
Allan nodded. "Of course. Who do you think got her the brochure?"
"But she's just thirteen, Allan. Thirteen. ."
"There are quite a few who think it's silly to keep young adults as children at home. Most kids are well into their apprenticeship by thirteen. Even girls."
"Embroidery." Mitzi shook her head. "Could you imagine Logan doing needlepoint or serving tea to some old fogey?"
Allan nodded sagely. "For about five minutes. What would happen after that depends on a great many things-like whether she had a certain stick you gave her."
"Forget the lacrosse stick, before I hit you with one. Okay, she's not very. . feminine or motherly. After that incident with little Avery, when she was six, no one on my side of the family will put a baby in her arms. She's tried to get babysitting jobs and not even the Germans will talk to her. Gossip is an awful thing, especially when it's right. What have we raised?"
"You have to admit, it was an inventive way to keep track of a baby. She didn't harm Avery much." Allan smiled. "She does have a rather brusque way with children. There ain't nothin' giggly-goo about Logan when it comes to babies. She told me off once for using baby talk with a baby."
"She's just not the motherly type. I remember hearing her talking while changing a diaper. I certainly hope that baby didn't understand a thing she said. . Okay, I admit it. Do you think it was my fault?"
"Remember that birthday party for Mabel's grandniece? We all went to the pond, remember?"
"Oh God!" Mitzi hid her eyes with her hand as if the disastrous event were occurring right there before her. Then she began laughing. "You had to remind me about that, didn't you?"
"No one drowned. And she did wallop that water moccasin before it got close to any of the tots."
"Oh Lord! I forgot all about that. She wanted you to skin it so she could use it as a hat band."
"Hence," Allan stated with a certain debonair tone, "the lacrosse stick."
"We should have been supervising them more carefully. I wouldn't have forgiven myself if any of them drowned. Everyone just assumes little girls are just great with kids."
"No, we shouldn't have given Logan the responsibility for all those little kids. She was what, seven? Eight? "
"It was just a few months before the Ring of Fire. Allan Sebastian. ." Mitzi giggled. "How can I be properly mad at her now with you smiling like that? We need a unified front."
"You'll find a way. Remember, she found Blaise. You can be mad at her for that."
"Okay, Blaise is a little off the wall, but I never hated him. He's a perfect gentleman. True, take him up-time and he would give Liberace a run for his money. Whoever introduced him to cloth dyes then gave him extra money should be strung up from the nearest church steeple. That boy. . I hope they find him. That boy worries me. Even Matheny is out looking. I thought, of all people, the fire chief would be celebrating the disappearance of Blaise-especially if it didn't involve an explosion."
"Julie says that Logan is pretending she doesn't care." Allan sighed. "I guess I should be more fatherly and glare more at Blaise. He might become our son-in-law."
"Oh Lord, save our family tree. Blaise Pascal as a Sebastian? Oh Lord. ."
"Remember that time she shoved him into the pool? I don't know who was more surprised: Logan for not realizing that few down-timers know how to swim, or Blaise for learning the modified doggie paddle in two seconds flat."
"The pool was only three feet deep at that end. The boy could have stood up. I think Blaise was more traumatized by her one-piece. He was trying to wrap a towel around her when she pushed him."
"She could have been wearing that 'cute' bikini your cousin sent her," Allan said.
"Over my dead body! I sent that abomination straight back!"
Allan smiled. "Well, how motherly of you, Mrs. Sebastian."
"I hope he's okay. I hope they find him. I mean, how does someone become lost between Grantville and Bamberg nowadays? I mean, what are the odds?"
"Well, dear, the boy did invent probability. Maybe he was doing a mathematical experiment."
"Don't be absurd. Math he does well." Mitzi sighed. "Being chivalrous is one of the many things he does not do well. Remember the Thanksgiving Dance and that. . contraption he brought to pin on Logan's dress? I thought he was a goner right then and there-and he would have been if she had her lacrosse stick handy."
The Home of Julie Drahuta, Director of Social Services for SoTF
(mid-morning, the next day)
The French Perspective
Etienne Pascal thought the man was absurd. One simply did not stroll through his own house wearing cavalry armor. It simply was not done. But this minor absurdity diverted his attention from his distress for only a fleeting moment.
"Papa, you will make yourself ill. Drink it," Gilberte urged him. "Just smile, Papa. It will all turn out for the best if we leave it to God."
Etienne tried to give his eldest daughter a smile but the effort to raise the corners of his mouth was too much.
"It is not your fault, Papa. Stop this at once. Stop."
"But it is my fault. I sent my son here. And as it turned out, for reasons that were false. I thought he was in danger of being taken and used as some sort of token of French greatness, past, present and future-a puppet. And now he is gone." Etienne took a sip of the tea. "Bah, this is tea?"
Americans used an absurd amount of honey in their tea. What would normal people do if they were able to get their hands on sugar in the amounts it appeared were common in the twenty-first century? He had seen those abominations called "five pound bags." The thought of that much sugar in one place made him shudder. The tax on that much sugar just lying around made his head spin.