Travels with Ned

 

            The rim of his brown hat was pulled up and the bright blue eyes of young Indiana Jones were cast upward towards the sky. Why was he always out of synch with everything? With a deep sigh, he stepped onto the busy train. At the first vacant spot he could find, he put his suitcase up and folded his suitcoat before sliding in and pulling the hat down over his face to sleep away his problems until he reached London.

“Wake up!” A little boy bounced in the seat beside him, staring up with excited eyes. The lad could not have been more than five, with bright blue eyes, short red hair, and freckles covering his whole face. Reminded Indy of his times in Ireland before the war with Sean and the threatre. The little boy leaned over onto Indy's seat and batted his hat to the ground. “I want to play a game wi' you!”

            “Jimmy! Leave the nice man alone!” his mother stood from the seat behind, pulling her son back to his side of the two-seater. She quickly got up and picked up the fallen item, extending it timidly. She looked so young that Indy was surprised to find her a mother; she couldn't have been much older than he. But what with wartime marriages, he wasn't about to judge so quickly. He was simply surprised to find an American in the midst of Western Europe. “I'm so sorry, Sir. He's a bit of a handful sometimes. And what with the twins…”

            Indy looked back to see a pair of babies in the seat behind him. “It's all right, Miss. No harm done.”

            “But Mother! I want to play a game!” Jimmy whined, rubbing his palm up against his nose and giving a great sniff.

            She sighed, pulling a handkerchief from her pocket to rub roughly at her son's nose. Indy recalled a time when he had seen Molly make the same motherly motion with one of the little girls in the orphanage. She had loved children so much… he wished he could have given her some. The mother's mindful voice brought him back to reality. “Jimmy, I want you to sit in that seat and behave yourself like a good—“

            “It's all right,” Indy said softly, turning to the young boy. “My name's Indy,” he stuck out his hand and the little boy shook it loosely. “What game would you like to play?”

            They settled on playing twenty questions as the train pulled out of the station and at least one of the twins started crying.  The motion of the train made Jimmy sleepy and by mid-afternoon the little boy had all but given up, stretching out on his back in the seat with his head on Indy's jacket on his lap. Indy gave in, too, putting one hand around the boy in case the train made any sudden movements and putting his hat back over his face to fall into another nightmarish 'what if' sleep.

 

            etch! etshhh!

            Indy was snapped awake by the sound and sudden movement on his lap. He found the little boy rubbing at a severely running nose. Indy lent the use of his handkerchief as any gentleman would. “Here, Jimmy. Blow you nose, bud.”

            The tired boy tried his best at it, but then just sneezed again afterward. He looked as if he might burst into tears and his cheeks were flushed. Indiana laid his hand upon the boy's head, then on his own forehead to gauge. Then he leaned back, craning his neck around the seat to get the Mother's attention. “Miss? Um, Miss—oh so sorry!” he quickly turned his head away; she had been breastfeeding.

            She sighed. “Yes, Sir? What have you done, now, Jimmy?!”

            Jimmy sat dazed, staring up at Indy with big, helpless eyes. “eptch! etchh!” One thing the lad had not learned yet in life was to cover his mouth. Indy shook his hand off discretely and then folded his handkerchief in half to cover the young boy's nose with a dry section. He could see another sneeze creep upon the boy's face. “ehchum!” Afraid to turn around again, Indy called back to the mother, “I think your son's coming down with something.”

            She sprang up with concern to witness another nose blow and sniffle. “Oh no! Not now!” she whispered a whine, looking down at the twins. With one child sick it was only a matter of time before the other two followed suit. She came over to pick him up but he clung to Indy with insistent, feverish whines of his own. The boy was comfortable and didn't seem to want to budge.

            “It's all right, I don't mind,” he said kindly, seeing how tired and worried the woman looked. “The ride is only a few more hours. I'll take care if him until London. That way he'll be up here and not back there sneezing near the babies.”

            She put her hand on her heart. “Oh, bless you, Sir!” she bent down and kissed Indy on the cheek. Her voice dropped down to a whisper. “We're on our way to visit my late husband's parents for the funeral and… and I've never even met them and… and Jimmy's so prone to colds, especially this time of year… and… and I don't know what I'd do if all three of them caught the sniffles now.”

She seemed on the verge of tears and Indy reached out to rub her arm comfortingly. “I'm so sorry to hear of your loss…. please let me do what I can to help.”

            Smiling back with the same look of kindness, “You served in the war, too, didn't you?”

            He nodded. “In more of them than my years show.” First caught up in the Mexican Revolution, then the IRA sprawls while waiting for transportation money. Then he was in a Belgian unit and all over Africa. Then a photographer spy and a pilot. Then working with secret service in Turkey until… until Molly. Then he was a translator at the Peace Accords, and a witness to Bolshevik uprisings, and a rather unsuccessful treasure hunter. “My name's Indy,” he introduced himself to keep his thoughts on the present. “Indiana Jones.”

            “Sarah Robinson.” She watched as her son curled up on his side in Indy's lap. Indy held him close to keep him warm, draping his jacket over the boy as a blanket. Jimmy laid his head on Indy's upper arm, thumb in mouth. “Thank you so much, Indy.”

            “It's no problem. The twins sound quiet,” he tactfully left off full. “Why don't you go get some sleep while you still can?”

            She smiled and thanked him once again as she followed his advice.

 

            The train arrived a little later than it should have, but Indy was glad Sarah had been allowed an extra bit of sleep. Jimmy was heavy in his arms, but clung to him for comfort. He picked up the small boy and gathered his coat and suitcase as Sarah gathered her baggage and the twins' carrier. It was a dreary night in London, the fog and mist enveloping them as they climbed down from the train. Indy helped them search for their baggage, still holding Jimmy who buried his head in Indy's shirt, sniffling. After the collection, he hailed them a cab and paid for it in advance. It was the least he could do.

            Sarah was more than grateful. “Oh, Indy. God bless you for this. I'll never forget it.”

            Indy handed the drowsy child to her along with his extra handkerchief in case it was needed. After bidding them farewell, he caught himself a taxicab and found himself knocking on Miss Helen Seymour's door.

            The proper, white-haired woman opened it with a charming smile. “Oh, Henry! I was beginning to get worried. Please, do come in. Have you had your supper?”

            He shook his head, setting down his bags to close the door behind him. “Should I go ahead and put these in the guest bedroom?”

            She shook her head. “I'm afraid I have a surprise visitor there now. The second bedroom on the right is made up for you. It doesn't have its own bath. I hope you do not mind.”

            “After the trip I've had, I'd sleep in an English sewer if I had to,” he laughed.

            “Well, hurry and wash up. I'll heat a plate for you and we can catch up a little. I'm sure you must be exhausted.”

            “Thank you, Miss Seymour.” He headed up the long flight and put his suitcases down on the bed and found a clean shirt therein. After changing, combing his hair, and washing face and hands, he headed back down. He was sure to avoid the longing stairs in to the mirror; he conscious was always behind his reflection and that was something he wanted no part of now.

            Supper consisted of a breast of chicken and mashed potatoes with peas. It was simple but had the home-cooked taste that he hadn't realized he missed until the first bite.

            “So, Henry. What have you been up to since your last letter? You mentioned going to Turkey, then one letter from France, and then a treasure hunt. Next you telegraph to tell me you'll be in London before you head back home. What transpired?”

            His heart sank. He hadn't expected the drilling until at least the next day. “I was working undercover. I'm sorry for not writing.” Indy did his best to stifle a yawn as he formulated his apology.

            “Goodness, gracious. I look forward to hearing any adventures since last we spoke. When you've got a full belly and had a good night's sleep of course.”

            He nodded. “This is absolutely delicious, Miss Seymour. Thank you so much for letting me stay for a little while. I… I'm not in a hurry to get back to my parents.”

            “Your father has been on a number of intellectual adventures since. I should imagine you two would have some stimulating conversations.”

            Indy shrugged, finishing his glass of milk. “That's what I'm afraid of.”

            Silence filled the room for a moment. Then she spoke up, “You look pale and tired. Why don't you retire for the night? Tomorrow we will talk.”

            He nodded again, standing to hug her good night. Then heading for bed.

 

*                      *                      *

            Indy very rarely changed for bed, even if given the chance. So many years without a change of clothes had become a habit. However, he did bother enough to strip down and head off for the shower before breakfast. But to his luck, the bathroom was occupied when he got there. Judging by the lovely smells of downstairs, Miss Seymour was downstairs with breakfast. This must be the mystery stranger who had stolen the guest bedroom from him. He waited, too tired to go just to return. He closed his eyes, still tired, to rest a moment. Only a few minutes later, the door opened with a cloud of steam and a bright-eyed, smiling face greeted him. “Henry!”

            “Ned!”

            In an instant the two men embraced with slaps on the back.

            “What are you doing here?” Indy asked, sweeping his hair back and out of his eyes, trying to look a little more presentable for the man he considered to be his mentor. They'd met when Indiana was but nine on a dig in Egypt. Their guide had run off with the camel as he and Miss Seymour were climbing the great pyramid. Luckily, Ned happened by and watched over them. From then on, Indy had always felt somewhat under Ned's wing, no matter where they were. Both were men of the world, and time after time Indy patterned himself after Ned's instruction, morals, or influence. Gaining a proficiency in language, the hunt for the Jackal, taking up fighting in the war itself (“This war must be fought. Above all, it must be won. The alternative is unthinkable,” Ned had said), going into behind the scenes action (“What a brilliant quote. Who said it? Me?!”). They exchanged letters when they could and hadn't seen each other since the Paris Peace Accords, months ago. “I knew you were vegetating in England but I hadn't expected to see you for a while.”

            “I had some business in London and when Helen told me you'd be visiting, well…” he rubbed the boy's head affectionately. “It is so good to see you, Henry!”

            Indy blushed and rubbed the back of his neck. “Think I'll take my shower now. I'll be down for breakfast in a few minutes.”

            “I'll tell Helen. Perhaps we can take a walk about the city afterwards. I have a bit of a project you may be interested in.”

            Indy nodded enthusiastically. Any chance for distracting and exciting adventures was more than welcome. He made his shower as fast as possible and raced down to join them at breakfast as if he were a teenager again.

            “I see you two have had a run-in already,” Miss Seymour said, serving Indy a large stack of pancakes with a side of eggs.

            Indy nodded, devouring his breakfast.

            “So, Ned, tell us everything,” Miss Seymour requested. Ned launched into his stories of the Middle East, of the prince and the palace of Arabia. It was a fascinating land, with a culture Indy was sure he wanted to explore one day. Perhaps he and Ned could go one day.

            The rest of breakfast went well, and when Ned's stories were done they learned of Miss Seymour's exciting trip to Whales the week before. Then Ned led Indy outside and down the streets.

            They walked in silence until they were two blocks away, though a few tiny sniffles broke through from time to time. The London weather was typical that day, with a strong, cold wind. Neither man spoke for a long while. Finally Ned let out a sigh and pushed his fists into his pockets in determination. “Henry, I have great need of your help.”

            Indy was a bit taken aback. Ned… needing his help? “What's wrong?”

            “It would mean a lot to me, Henry. I wouldn't ask if I did not truly need it. And I would never do anything that I didn't think was of the utmost importance, I do hope you know that.”

            It sounded as if it must be dangerous. Nodding, “Of course, Ned. What can I do?”

            Ned looked around for a bench and they darted over to it. He leaned in to explain. “There is a tablet in a museum. I need it for some translations I have come across while in what used to be the great Mesopotamia. You are gifted with language, as well, my friend, and I need you to help me translate it and the originals in the regions overseas. And most importantly I need…” he paused a moment, taking a gulp of fresh air. “I need someone to watch my back.” He paused a moment to let it sink in. “So… are you game?”

            Ned could see the excitement on the young man's face, that instinctual idealism e so envied the young man for. “What's it for, Ned? Are we going treasure hunting?”

            Ned smiled, and gave a half nod. “In a way, my young friend. Going on a great quest for important knowledge and findings that have never before been dreamed of… that is a treasure to any lover of history, is it not? And, it will give us a chance to return to the land where you and I first met.”

            “The great pyramids of Giza?”

            A nod. “The very ones.”

           


            “Indeed, Helen. Why don't you tell us both what you've been up to. I'm sure your adventures are as extraordinary as ours in your own right.”

            She laughed lightly. “Hardly, Ned. But thank you for asking. I've been tutor to a young man whose father is… Henry, are you all right?”

            Indy sat perfectly still, looking straight ahead, mouth half open as he panted into the fist held up to his nose and mouth. He nodded his head up and down twice before the sneeze came out on the third. “heh-SHAH!

            “God bless you!”

            “Geisundheit!” Ned smiled, finding his use of the German phrase ironic, given their positions just a few months prior.

            “Excuse me. Just fine. Sorry to interrupt.”

            The proper English woman continued as if it had not happened. “Whose father is the Duke of Windsor. Quite a bright little boy, I might add. Reminds quite a lot of you when you were young, Ned. Or you, Henry. When you bothered to put effort into your studies more than your culture lessons.”

            Indy managed a smile a nod before a second sneeze caught up with him. “huhCHISHH! Excuse me.”

            “Geisundheit!”

“God Bless you! Goodness, Henry, are you coming down with a cold?”

            Now that she mentioned it, he did feel a little out of it. His sinuses were a bit congested and his nose a little tickley. “I hope not. Sniff! Excuse me. There was a little boy on the train who… hehIHSHHO! Excuse me—” that seemed to do it for the time being and he paused as they blessed him again.

            “God Bless you, again.”

            “Geisundheit!”

            Miss Seymour gave him a harsh look. “And I suppose this little boy was impolite and free with him germs, hmm?”

            Indy smiled, recalling the situation. “Perhaps, but his mother was more than grateful that I'd been there. Poor little guy, slept in my arms the whole way to London.”

            “Goodness gracious! No wonder you have the sniffles. A good chamomile tea will help that.” She popped up immediately to prepare some.

            Ned reached over and patted the young man on the back. “Good boy. You can finish up your tea then we'll go for that walk I promised, all right?”

            Indy nodded with a rub to stop the itching in his nose.

 

 

 


            “It looks like World War II in here!” Ned joked, sifting past the sea of books, blankets, cups, and balled-up handkerchiefs to get to his bunk. The young man was pale and lay curled up in bed, hugging a pillow to his stomach. His nose was chapped, his eyes closed but his breathing indicated he was awake. “Henry, how are you feeling?”

            Indy rubbed his nose on his shoulder and sniffled miserably. “Sick. This is sniff a dreadful heehh… heaahh… heahhhhCHISH! Sniff! hehchoo! huheeehsh! Sniff! head cold.”

            Ned nodded with a sigh of frustration. “Wonderful timing in this, Henry.”

            A strong sniff. “I'm sorry, Ned. I didn't mean to get sick. I… hope I sniff didn't ruin ev… every… ehh…everythhuhh… huh…huhIhShooo! hutchoo! heeeahshoo! Sniff! Sniff! everythig. Sniff! Sniff! 'Scuse be.” He lifted a handkerchief and blew strong into it a few times.

            Ned patted him on the shoulder with a shake of his head. “You ruined nothing. I know you cannot help getting sick. And besides, it is merely a head cold. You'll be over it in no time, Henry.”

            Indy sniffed. He wasn't so certain about that. Right now he felt miserable. And what was worse was remembering his last illness- the fever he'd had in Istanbul after being wounded. Molly had been by his side every moment, night or day. She'd given him soft caresses, she'd bathed him with cool water, she'd held him when he needed to stand, she'd fed him when he was too weak to hold a spoon, she'd nursed him back to health. And then he'd gotten her shot. Why?!

            “Henry?” came Ned's voice, soft and calming. “Do you want to talk about—“

            “No!” He sniffed, rubbing his running nose on his shoulder.

            “You looked as if you might cry…”

            “No! I'm fine!”

            Ned nodded, rubbing his friend on the arm with reassurance. “When you're ready, I'll listen. When you're hurting, I'll do what I can. When you're sick… I'll sit by you until it passes.”

            Tears ran from his eyes and he reached out for the older man. Ned sat and pulled Indy to him, letting him rest his head in his lap. Rubbing the young man's arm up and down, he sat in silence as the tears turned into cries and then hearty sobs. “Shhhh… It's all over now, Henry. It will be all right. Shhhhh… I'm here.” Finally, the young man cried himself to sleep. Ned moved softly to not disturb. He tucked the man in and left an extra handkerchief nearby for when he woke.

 

 

 

 

 

            “Morning, Henry.”