Dear, Hamilton

The Basics of Time Travel

(plot twist time!)

Mr. Greenwald turns around to face Peggy and me, his eyes instinctively going to me before glancing down at my stomach. I settle a hand protectively on my stomach as I step forward and say, "I'm Eliza Hamilton, sir."

He nods absentmindedly as he studies me, and then he nods again, sharply once as if accepting this fact. "A pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Hamilton," he says politely. 

"Please, call me Eliza, or at least Mrs. Eliza," I tell him quickly, feeling uncomfortable with the fact that someone older than me is calling me by my last name. 

He nods with a faint smile before turning to my father and asking, "May I speak to your daughter alone?"

An uncertain look crosses my father's face as he purses his lips. "Did something happen to Colonel Hamilton, sir?" he asks, drawing himself up as if to prepare for bad news. "Is this what this is about? If so, then speak and be gone with it."

Mr. Greenwald quickly shakes his head and reassures him, "Oh, no. Not at all. Your son-in-law is safe, I believe. I haven't heard any bad or ill-fated news about him on the road."

My father and I both breathe a sigh of relief. Thank goodness Alexander is still okay. I don't know what I would do without him. I feel a sharp pang in my chest when I realize there will come a time when he will no longer be with me. I manage to swallow the burning in my throat at this thought, and I quickly school my face into neutrality. 

I speak up, "Please, father. Let me hear what Mr. Greenwald has to say." 

My father stares at me for a moment as he studies me-- probably trying to figure out if I already know Mr. Greenwald-- before he nods once. "You may speak in the front yard. That should be private enough."

I can see the reasoning in his suggestion of the front yard. It's private enough to have a conversation without being overheard, but it's within sight of anyone inside to keep up propriety. Mr. Greenwald agrees and together, he and I walk out into the front yard. 

"Why you should have told me your name when we first met out here to save us all the trouble," he tells me with a smile, and I frown a little. 

"I wanted to see what you wanted first," I tell him frankly. "And I'm still struggling to think of a reason why you would want to speak with me. The only thing I can think of is if it has something to do with Colonel Hamilton, but you already denied that account." 

Mr. Greenwald looks at me a bit sheepishly as he admits, "Well, it does have to do a little bit with Colonel Hamilton. He's still an aide-de-camp to General Washington, right?" 

I nod wordlessly as we walk a little farther into the front yard. But then Mr. Greenwald's words fully catch up to me, and I ask, "Wait, what do you mean, he's still an aide-de-camp to the general?" 

What weird phrasing. It's as if he knows that Hamilton eventually quits Washington's side. 

When I've deemed us far enough, but still close enough to the house, I stop, and Mr. Greenwald stops with me before turning to face me. He clasps his hands behind his back as he says bluntly, ignoring what I'd just asked, "So, you've discovered you lived a life here before."

He says it like a statement. 

I stare at him with widened eyes. Who is this guy? How does he know about my other life in the twenty-first century? I back up a step as I demand, "What do you mean, Mr. Greenwald? I'm afraid you've confused me."

He grimaces a little and says, "I'm sorry about that. There's simply no other way to go about it. I need to find out how much you know."

"How much I know?" I repeat, growing more and more bewildered.