Haviland Big Mac

The Fairies Saga, #9
1. Auflage 2026
ISBN: 978-1-950592-19-7
Verlag: Chill Out! Books
Format: EPUB
Kopierschutz: Adobe DRM (»Systemvoraussetzungen)

E-Book, Englisch, Band 9, 148 Seiten

Reihe: The Fairies Saga

Action-packed Clean Time Travel Read!

 **What if someone could go back in time and stop the Pandemic before it started?**

Since we really don't know what caused the COVID virus, BIG MAC could be right: it was his bio-dad.

Big Mac, a mixed-race third-generation time traveler, comes back from the future to 2015 to see if he can find his no-good Viking sire and stop him from releasing the virus. What he finds is that he arrived a little too early and may have ruined the timeline continuum by interacting with his grandparents.

And then there's the complication of the post-Civil War slave who happens to show up next to the old family manse.

What is he to do with her?

 Take a fantasy trip to a few years in the past when people could shake hands and interact without facemasks or fear of infection.

 A clean romantic mystery/fantasy, great for any age.

Autoren/Hrsg.

Haviland, Dani

Leseproben

Chapter 1

September 2015

Greensboro, NC

“Watch out! Here comes another one!” the skinny onlooker shouted, his arms spread wide in a gallant attempt to protect the giant-sized couple as they passed in front of the tavern entrance.

“What’s going on?” Benji asked, pulling his wife close to shield her from the unknown impending peril. He heard the winded thunk of a body blow come from inside and looked back to make sure his petite protector was also out of harm’s way.

“Agh!” A sun-wrinkled cowboy grabbed air as he flew out the door, trying to find something or someone to hold onto before the ground rose up to kiss his face. Unable to find anything to slow his fall, the human projectile wound up performing a hands-free face plant on the concrete curb, a loud crunch indicating his graceless landing had earned him a broken nose. Two seconds later, his cowboy hat parasailed out the door, landing just inches from his head.

“Thirty-seven!” a voice boomed from inside the bar. “Anyone care to make that thirty-eight?”

“Yeah! I do, ya big red-headed nig…aach!”

Another man – this one even bigger than the first – stumbled out the door backward, his feather and snakeskin-banded ten-gallon hat clutched to his chest with trembling hands.

“Thirty-eight!” announced the same, deep voice, accompanied by a chorus of cheering bar patrons.

“Do ye need help?” Benji asked, extending his hand to the marginally conscious Calvin Klein cowboy. The stunned man had landed hard on his rump, his portly belly covered by a belt buckle as big as his face but only half as shiny.

“Uh, no, no thanks,” the embarrassed drunkard stammered, his head tipping back to gawk up at the six-foot seven-inch redheaded man. He added, “er…sir,” then stumbled away, quickly checking over his shoulder to be certain no one had followed him out of the bar. He staggered to his emerald-green lifted Chevy pickup, then clung to its short bed for support. Continually looking behind him, he fumbled with his bundle of keys, hoping to make a safe and discreet escape. That was the last time he’d ever make fun of anyone with red hair.

“Sir?” Benji repeated the man’s stuttered salutation under his breath. “Me a sir?” They were the same age – well, at least biologically. He glanced over and saw his tall wife looking down at the other ejectee, still belly to the pavement, one shoulder up, his hand covering his bloodied nose.

“Are you all right, sir?” Jane asked, concerned for his health, but unsure if she should offer a hand to an unknown white man.

“Ugh,” he groaned and rolled over onto his back, then grunted loudly as he struggled to sit up. He lifted his head and saw it was a very dark-skinned woman who had asked about his condition. “Agh!” he screamed, scrambling to his feet. “I swear, I’ll never say that N-word again!”

“What’s going on here?” Benji asked, scanning the crowd that had gathered to watch the kerfuffle, looking for someone willing to answer him.

“There’s a really big dude in there who really, really hates,” Benji and Jane’s slim wannabe guardian said, then hesitantly whispered, “the ‘N’ word.”

“The ‘N’ word?” Jane asked Benji in a soft whisper.

Their reedy and gregarious new friend – still reeling from too many drinks – grabbed onto Benji’s arm for support. “Yeah, someone called him a red-headed n...n…” He gulped, then blushed when he realized how dark the woman next to his human lamppost was. “Maybe you better ‘splain it to her,” he told Benji. “I don’t wanna chance him hearin’ me say it then makin’ me number thirty-nine. I don’t like that word neither.”

“Janie, do ye want to wait out here or go in the tavern with me?” Benji asked.

“I’d rather go with you. I don’t know what’s happening in there, but I want to see who sounds so much like you.” She looked at the man hanging on to Benji’s other side. “Are you coming?” she asked and winked.

“Yes, ma’am! I wouldn’t mish this for the world!”

The super-tall duo plus one tag-along walked into the bar single file, Benji leading the investigation. “Who’s throwin’ the trash out into the street?” he asked lightheartedly.

It was obvious who it was, though. The giant-sized man at the dartboard, poised to throw, had a marigold-red Afro hairdo. He turned and frowned at the newcomer interrupting his shot. “Who’s asking?” he growled.

“Jest someone who appreciates the house cleanin’,” Benji replied and approached with hand extended in greeting.

“Oh, I get it,” Jane said softly, noticing that despite having hair every bit as red as Benji’s, the young man looked to have African-American ancestors.

“Do I know you?” the bigot-bouncer asked Benji, stalling before committing to a handshake. “You look familiar.”

Benji shook his head slowly in answer. He had the same feeling, though. “Do I ken yer family, yer father maybe?”

“I doubt it,” the curly-haired man said. “He was gone before I was born. Didn’t even leave me his name. Branded me a bastard.” He spat on the ground out of habit with the ‘b’ word, then blushed – there was a woman present. “Sorry ‘bout that, ma’am,” he apologized, nodding to Jane. “I shouldn’t cuss in front of ladies. My mother reared me better than that.”

“Apology accepted,” Jane said. “I’m sure she’s proud of you.”

“Well, maybe she was.” He paused, then winced. “She was gone by the time I was ten; said I was her pride and joy, her baby boy. Sorry, I didn’t introduce myself. I’m called Big Mac.”

“Benji MacKay. This is my wife, Jane.”

Big Mac squinted his blue eyes and asked, “MacKay?”

“Aye, I’m from a long line of MacKays. Janie here, my wife, has only been a MacKay for a few months.”

“MacKay’s my mother’s name. She used to say she was from a long line of MacKays, too.” Big Mac looked from Benji to Jane, trying to visualize his mother. He always thought he’d never forget her face. He didn’t have so much as a snapshot of her but did his best to keep her image in his head. For fourteen years, he’d traced the lines of her brows, jaws, eyes – even her ears – in the air, remembering their quiet evenings together, reading or playing Scrabble, before she disappeared. Now her face was fuzzy. This woman before him was much darker than she was but otherwise looked a lot like Mama. Too much like Mama. Suddenly, his mental portrait of his mother was twisting and fading into Jane’s face. They were becoming the same person.

“Hey, is he your coushin or nephew or shomethin’?” the drunk at Benji’s left side asked. “Cause he sounds like you,” and poked Benji in the ribs, “but looks like you,” and pointed to Jane. “Except he has your hair. Well, except for the curly part; that’s more like yours…except yours is longer and prettier.”

“Thank you,” Jane replied. “I think we need to go outside for some fresh air. Would you care to join us, Big Mac?”

Both big men were stunned. They were having a stare-down without animosity – curiosity consuming all of their concentration. “Come on, guys, this is getting intereshting,” the sot said, tugging on the men’s shirtsleeves, trying to help Jane get them out of the bar.

Both big men turned to the skinny man who reeked of stale cigarettes and beer, then glared at him with identical scowls of intimidation. “Whoa! You gotta be related!” he bellowed, too drunk to realize that he was irritating both men whose combined size was about ten times his.

“Out, now, please?” Jane asked softly, trying to avoid making the ado any bigger than it already was.

“Hey, Randy, clear out the patio for me and my friendsh, will ya?”

The bartender looked at his wife’s brother then the two big men he was standing between. He hadn’t thrown out the younger one who had either punched or kicked out a steady stream of loud-mouthed bikers and drugstore cowboys over the past week – he was glad to be rid of them – but now the tall mixed-blood man was having a staredown with someone nearly his size. No damage had been done to the premises in the last week but having two redheaded bulls in his stein-shot-and-wineglass establishment would be pushing his luck.

“Here, Sander, it’s all yours,” the bartender said and handed him the key. “Just don’t get between those two. Cheryl would never forgive me if something happened to you.”

“Sure, sure,” the happy drunk said, his arms crooked in the elbows of the two behemoths. “Let’s take these two gentlemen to my parlor, shall we, ma’am?”

“We shall. This way, gentlemen,” Jane said.

The two men were still frozen in their private, silent summit. Jane didn’t have to look around to see that they were now the center of attraction in the bar. “Drinks on the house!” she announced with false bravado, repeating the words she’d heard in ‘North to Alaska.’ And just like in the old John Wayne movie, everyone went to the bar, distracted from the spectacle of the two brooding giants by the allure of free alcohol.

“Sander?” she asked, hoping she had heard his name correctly. He nodded deeply and grinned in acknowledgment. “Would you come around here and help me? I think all they need is a nudge in the right direction.”

She was right. The gentle push from behind startled the pair enough that they came out of their mutual trance. Big Mac realized his little buddy...