Fade To Grey

By: Ilena F. Holder

ISBN No: 978-1-877546-42-6

All rights reserved

Copyright © Oct 2010, Ilena F. Holder

Cover Art Copyright © Oct 2010, Brightling Spur

Bluewood Publishing Ltd

Christchurch, 8441, New Zealand

www.bluewoodpublishing.com

Names, characters and incidents depicted in this book are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author or the publisher.

No part of this e-book may be reproduced or shared by any electronic or mechanical means, including but not limited to printing, file sharing, and email, without prior written permission from Bluewood Publishing Ltd.

Dedication

To Marlene, for having faith that I would make her proud.

Chapter One

Donna drove down the back country road to Fallow Field Farms. After being surrounded by the hustle and bustle in Chicago five days a week, the darkness and solitude felt comforting to her. The long Victorian dress she wore tangled around her ankles. The visit to the costume shop hadn’t taken long at all. The woman had said it would only take a minute to take the Victorian dress in. She had been right. It fit perfectly; Donna just wished she hadn’t pricked her finger with the needle like she had. She still felt woozy from the sight of blood—she hated blood! It had taken all her strength to keep from passing out.

Farm holdings slid past, shrouded in darkness beyond the window, but familiarity painted them clearly in her mind’s eye. They sprawled out in her mind like a patchwork quilt. The purple contact lenses affected her night vision a bit and she wished she could remove them. They worked fine indoors, but after driving out into the countryside, she had to squint. She was used to the bright street lights of Chicago and the suburbs. She’d just wait until she got back to the farm to remove them, when she could wash her hands thoroughly.

She passed the Holtzclaw’s house and saw a lot of cars outside. The weekend guests were arriving. She didn't want to drop by since she had plenty to do back at the farm. Gran’s husband, Emory Ellis, died when Donna turned six years old, so she never really got to know him well. After his death, Gran had soldiered on, running the farm and stable and never remarrying. She kept stable hands and a housekeeper and that was good enough for her. With the employees she had, Donna and her parents did not overly worry about her. It was understood that Donna’s father would inherit everything since he had been the only child. Unfortunately, her parents lived in Chicago and had no interest or understanding of running a riding stable and working farm. They were citified people who were perfectly happy running their shoe store in the middle of a bustling metropolis. In February, they’d sold the store and were taking early retirements to take a round-the-world cruise. With Gran’s sudden stroke and death, they were faced with selling the farm or making other arrangements to keep it in the family and run it. Everything happened too soon.

Though the big house was up the lane, she pulled into the gravel drive at the riding stable first. There would be plenty of time to clean up the house after the party. Her parents had already left to catch their London flight out of O’Hare in the morning. But she longed to see the old tack room first, with its unique smells and trophy case full of ribbons and awards from various horse shows.

As she turned the big Cadillac down the path, her headlights shone directly into the pear orchard five hundred feet in front of her. With the cold fall weather in full swing, the leaves had long since dropped off and the naked branches look cold and spindly. A few wan pears hung gallantly to the limbs, missed by the summer pickers. She drove slowly as the darkness closed around her.

Suddenly, a barn cat darted in front of her and she hit the brakes. The weight of the large car caused the gravel to fly out in front of her tires with an alarming sound. The brakes were more sensitive than Donna was used to and she felt foolish.

“A teenager can drive better than me. Okay, I’m here, let’s just park it where I slid to a stop.”

She opened the door and the outside air whooshed in, carrying the smells of fall-wet leaves from the last rain and rotting pears. The door chimes sounded, pleasantly reminding her that the lights were still on and her keys were still in the ignition. Reaching for the headlight button, she accidentally hit the volume on the CD player and her jazz selections blared.

“I guess all the neighbors plus the barn cats for a few miles just got a wake up on that!” She silenced the music by ejecting the CD.

She slipped the keys into her jacket coat and headed toward the door. The car lights would turn themselves off, but she didn’t want to risk getting locked out. As an afterthought, she took a flashlight she had in her purse as well.

Though it was locked and she had a key in her purse, she reached for the secret hiding spot where Harry, the teenage Holtzclaw boy, kept it. He knew she was dropping by the stable over the weekend and had left it in a small hinged metal box, unobtrusive and low, towards the bottom of the wall. There was not a lot worth stealing in the old barn since the horses were gone, but the tack was still perfectly usable.

Her family had paid the electric co-op to keep the power on at the stable and the house until they decided what to do. That way the outside yard lights were on, and the plumbing was still running until the weather got colder. They anticipated cleaning up everything before freezing winter weather set in. They had the Holtzclaw’s teenage son check the property daily. He checked the doors and flushed toilets occasionally and turned the taps on and off. It gave him a job and gave them peace of mind.

She unlocked the door and reached inside to flip the light switch as the car’s headlights extinguished themselves. The glow from the yellow bulb flowed over her. She gazed around the small room, letting old memories wash over her.

She thought after the funeral that no pain could ever be so sharp, but she had been wrong. Memories lurked everywhere. Some emotions you could bury deep, but grief was not one of them.

The large, deep sink on the side wall was adorned with cracked and drying bars of amber colored saddle soap. Donna ran her finger over the top of one bar, thinking how odd it was that the same glycerin in the bars of soap was the same ingredient added to cosmetics to soften women’s skin. She studied the overhead shelf, looking at various odds and ends that every tack room had. Leather hole punches, assorted knives, rags, and cans of metal polish were thrown helter-skelter on the shelves. Donna would have liked to tidy them up, but she knew it was a wasted effort.

Underneath the sink were buckets half-full of various shapes of cleaning and soaping sponges. Synthetic pink and natural tan sea sponges intermixed, an odd mix of clashing colors. The large wooden cleaning tree sat in the middle of the room, with one of her German saddles sitting on it, a saddle cover laid over the top. She had forgotten that earlier in the month she had asked Harry to clean it up, as she might want to take it back to Chicago with her. Now that she saw it, the thought seemed ridiculous. When would she have time to find stables close to downtown, much less ride again, with her holding a full time job in the city? She couldn’t possibly give a horse the time he needed for care and exercise no matter how hard she tried to fit it into her schedule.

“Oh well, what would it hurt? I can take it back and set it up in the living room for a conversation piece,” she said.

Going through a doorway, she moved into the woodshop area have a look around. The old carousel horse head was still on the wall, a few more cobwebs draped on it since Gran's funeral. Gran had bought it when the old Silver Beach amusement park shut down in the sixties and the owner was selling off the rides by bits and pieces to antique shops and other carnivals. The head had frightened Donna when she was little, as the horse was baring his teeth in a fierce grimace. Later on she came to appreciate it as a fine piece of Americana. Perhaps she could strike a deal with Mrs. Case in the antique shop to sell it at commission. It would never fit in with the decor in her loft apartment. She chided herself for the thought. She would never sell off this stuff. But what would she do with it? Stash it in a storage facility forever? She would figure that out later. She walked around the tack room, touching the saddles and bridles. Harry did a good job; she would tell him Saturday when she got to his folks’ house. She bumped her boot on a pile of horse blankets and saddle pads he had removed for cleaning.

Moon glow filtered through the tack room windows. She knew she would soon have to leave and go to the house for the night. She took Great-great Gran's silver leaf brooch out of her pocket and pinned it on so she wouldn't lose it. Opening the clasp, she pricked her finger and a drop of blood rose to the tip. She stared at it, finding it hard to believe it was the second time she had done this in the same day.

When she was younger she had always fainted at the sight of blood. Now, if she knew she was going to have blood drawn, she would practice visualization techniques the nurses had taught her, getting her mind off on other things. Even listening to headphones was a distraction. But she could feel herself turning cold and feeling faint.

Before she knew it she slowly slipped out of the saddle. She tried to grab at the pommel and right herself, but the English saddle offered nothing large enough to grab. Luckily, she tumbled onto the pile of horse blankets, cushioning her fall. Lifting her head, she attempted to stand, but everything swam in front of her eyes and she crumpled again.

* * * *

Royce washed up his few supper dishes in the basin and set a kettle on the fire to boil some tea before bed. With the calendar page on October now, the days grew to a close faster. He preferred to get his chores done early so he could enjoy doing some scrimshaw carving or macramé in front of his fireplace. The horses and barn cats had been fed. He walked around the barn and horse pastures one last time before going into his cottage and closing the shutters and door for the night. He shoved the rag rug up under the crack to keep out the night chill. Royce was a methodical man who relished his nightly routine. Truthfully, there was not a lot to do with the Michigan winter soon coming on.

He was lucky to have a job with a free cottage and always kept back some odd mending and cleaning tasks for the cold weather months. He liked to keep busy and thought it best if the owners saw him puttering around the workshop when the daily chores with the horses were done. After two daily feeds and mucking out the stalls, a man had to find something to keep occupied. The owners liked to ride the horses and take the buggies out well into the cold months, at least until the weather became unbearable with frost and accompanying mud. There would be a spell of a few months where it was too uncomfortable for anyone to be outside unless necessary. He would hitch up the large wagon and two chestnut draft horses and take the maids to town once a week for supplies. The cook at the big house had put back the yearly store of smoked and salted hams and canned and dried vegetables and pickled foods for winter. He would receive his weekly share of these every Sunday night without fail. But with the moderate sized household they had, there were always things the maids ran short of, like spices, sugar, flour, sewing goods, sweets, newspapers, reading materials, and general what-nots. He always enjoyed these trips into town and the maids did also. It was a chance to get off the property and exchange gossip in town with other farm folks.

Of course, true winter weather with snow and ice meant they could bring out the sleighs. Royce had given the sleigh a good coat of black paint in July and soon he would clean and wax the runners. Next week, he would check and repair the harness and polish up the bits and buckles. He would also clean and inspect the whips and crops to see if any needed rewrapping or repairing.

He was getting ready to take off his boots when a sudden clattering outside the cottage startled him. A bright white blaze, as a comet flashing through the sky, shone through the cracks of his shutters. One of the barn cats let out a screech and ran up on his step with a fright. He heard her claws scratch and skitter on the wooden boards. Then a blast of strange music, complete with loud horns, came through the air.

What on earth could be happening? It appeared that some sort of unscheduled musical insanity had begun outside.

Royce undid the leather latch on the door and cracked it open carefully. The frightened cat saw the opening and immediately bolted through his legs. That was strange, he thought, since that cat was always the most standoffish of the bunch.

Royce looked out into the darkness. He saw and heard nothing amiss. The horses in the barn were snorting and stamping a bit so he thought it best to go check on them. Perhaps something had fallen from the sky or an owl or bat was loose inside the barn. He sighed and got his lantern.

“So much for my hot cup of tea,” he muttered. “At least I still have my boots on.” He took his jacket off the peg and pulled his cap on also. Marching into the night, he noticed the driveway felt a bit rearranged under his boots. Something had dug a shallow trench and he stumbled when he stepped into it. Steadying himself, he walked on, then had to catch himself a second time. Small rocks that had been misplaced caused him to slide a bit when he walked on top of them.

“Strange. Like a buggy or rider has come by at a great rate of speed. Hmm.” He scuffed the loose rocks with the toe of his boot.

He opened the door of the tack room and peered inside. At first nothing looked amiss in the semi-darkness. He saw a lump on the floor behind the cleaning stand. A low moan came from it.

“Aha! A tramp! Trying to get out of the cold night air! I’ll show him the door right fast, I will.” Royce walked up to the pile, nudging it with his boot. The lump moaned again. Putting his lantern closer, Royce thought the tramp might be drunk or sick. He saw a flash of plaid fabric and a smart hat askew on a lady’s head. A tumble of brown hair circled her head, though with her face down, he could not see her clearly.

“My! It’s a lady! It’s not a tramp after all! Here, let me get you upright, miss.” He rolled her to her side, to see if she was hurt or bleeding. Nothing seemed terribly wrong, except that she was on the floor for no discernable reason. She was of average height, and he could feel her womanly curves through her clothing.

“Perhaps you should lay there a minute and get your wind. Have you had a fit? Where did you come from?”

Chapter Two

Donna’s eyes fluttered and she saw a babbling man standing over her. First, bewilderment muddled her brain and then fear flooded her senses. Her heartbeat quickened and her muscles tensed. Looking around at the tack room, it seemed familiar at first. Of course! Fallow Field Farms! But why did it look so different? The paint on the walls was a different color. The carousel horse head was missing. And the lights must be off, because the man was holding a lantern. Its flickering flame cast spooky shadows all over the walls. She sat up and brushed her skirts down and smoothed her jacket.

“There now, you look better. Perhaps you tripped. It doesn’t seem as if you’ve had a fit, I’ve seen folks with them and they’re right bad off. Sometimes they swallow their tongues. And they certainly don’t sit up alert,” Royce said.

“Who…who are you?” Donna looked at him quizzically. At least the man was speaking in a calming and moderate tone.

Royce straightened up. “I might ask the same of you. I’m Royce McClarty the stable hand and—”

While he was in mid-sentence, Donna jumped to her feet. She didn’t know who this Royce fellow was and why he was looking at her in such a weird manner. For all she knew, he could be planning to cut her throat. His smooth speech might just be a ruse to lull her into complacency. She dashed past him. As she hoped, her sudden movement caught him by surprise. Before he could gather his wits and straighten up, she was a good six feet from him and heading through the door that led to the stable.

She knew she only had a few moments to flee through the stable and exit through the large double barn doors. This would take her to the driveway and her car. Then hopefully she would be able to jump in and lock the door quickly behind her. Yes, that was a workable plan. Her exit route on the stable floor wasn’t as simple as she thought it would be. It should have been easy; she had walked it countless times before. Yet tonight there was no light and she had to deal with the blasted long skirt continually wrapping around her calves. She could hear horses in their stalls coming to their feet and snorting at the disruption of their sleep. Why were there horses here anyway? This barn should be deserted.

The tack room door snapped back against its hinges with a loud bang. Royce’s heavy steps began pounding along the aisle. She glanced over her shoulder to see the golden glow of his lantern swinging in his hands.

She knew it was just a few more feet to the double doors. If only she could make it, she knew she could throw the bolt open and dash outside. Suddenly, her toe stubbed against something large and immovable. With a thud, she slammed into a pile of feed bags. A puff of dust and oat odors hit her in the face.

Falling forward, she landed on her stomach. Her feet came off the floor for a second and it was impossible to right herself. Shoving in vain with her forearms, she only managed to shove two of the large burlap bags apart and fell deeper into a chasm of feed. Now, she was soundly pinned.

“Now I’ve got you! I should have grabbed you up by the scruff when I first found you on the floor!”

She felt Royce’s hands around her waist. In desperation, she bent her leg and kicked backwards with it, hitting soft flesh.

“Oof!”

Royce’s startled voice told her she had probably landed a boot squarely in his stomach. Good. He released his hold on her and fell backwards. Now was her chance! Shoving with all her might, she heaved off the bags. But as she was getting ready to plant her feet on the floor, she felt her ankle twist a bit.

“Ouch!”

Now she stood hopping on one foot. Royce caught his breath and hauled himself off the floor. There was no way she could flee now.

“I knew it! A person wouldn’t run ‘less they were guilty! You’ve probably robbed a lady in town and stole her clothes!” He grabbed her wrist. “You’re not going anywhere now!”

“You don’t understand!” Donna started to plead. “It’s not what you think!”

“I just bet it’s not! I think it might be best to lock you in one of the horse stalls until I get the constable here in the morning!”

Donna leaned against the feed bags and pried Royce’s hand off her wrist.

“Hey, I could ask the same of you, buddy. How do I know you are who you really say you are?” She bent down to rub her ankle. “Besides, I’m here for the party. I’m a guest this weekend.”

Royce rubbed his stomach.

“Party? Why didn’t you say so? The Brandentons have guests all the time.”

Donna stared at Royce. Perhaps he was one of the Holtzclaw’s other guests, somebody from town she hadn’t met yet. And she had to admire his period costume, even with a sexy leather eye patch; it was pure late eighteen hundreds. And why was he talking about the Brandentons anyway?

“How did you get here? The last train from Chicago ran at four p.m. today because I picked up the guests who rode it. So how did you come to be here?” He had a puzzled look on his face.

“Train? Oh yes, the train.” Donna was beginning to get the feeling that something was very amiss. “No, I—wait, yes, I came by train! The train! It was really full of people. I barely got a seat.” She thought it best to play along until she could figure out…what? Perhaps the Holtzclaws were playing a little game on her. Something that was straight out of the last century. Wouldn’t that be funny? She’d play along until she figured out what the next step was. Now Royce seemed to have a new attitude towards her. At least he let go of her wrist.

“See here, now I want the truth.” Royce became stern again. “I am still not sure who you are and what you are doing here.”

Donna felt a little chill at this statement. She thought he had softened up a bit.

“Exactly how did you get here, in this tack room, from the train station? It’s too far for a lady to walk.”

“I came by rental…car.” Donna gulped and decided to tell the truth just to see what happened.

“Did you say rental cart?” Now that makes more sense!” Royce’s face crinkled into a grin.

“That happens all the time around here. Somebody misses a connection, either the mail stage run, or the train schedule gets amiss for a cow on the tracks or bad weather. People need to get back to Chicago fast, so they’ll pay a farm boy to run them to the nearest drop off point.”

Donna was glad for the misunderstanding of the word. Car, cart, they were so similar.

“So, Miss, you didn’t say what your name was.”

“Bradenton. Donna Bradenton.” Donna thought it best to give a disarming little smile. Smiling always seemed to smooth things over with just about any faux pas, especially with men.

“All right, Miss Bradenton.” Royce looked around the room. “Where is your luggage, your traveling satchel, or trunks?”

“Lost. Yes, all things were lost between Chicago and Saint Joe.”

“Here, Miss. I have an idea. It’s already night time and you need to get up to the big house and I need to get back to my cottage. Your hosts are probably expecting you and are worried. Stay here for a second, I have an idea.”

Royce left Donna alone in the darkness, as he took off with the lantern. Obviously it never occurred to him that she might be frightened. She was, but just a little bit. It wasn’t so much the darkness, but the location. What on earth had happened? Why had it happened? She hugged herself, not so much to get some feeling in her, but to see if she actually felt anything physically. Surely she wasn’t dreaming, or was she? Why would he want to take her to the big house as he called it? Wouldn’t he want to take her to the Holtzclaws?

As she pondered about her predicament, she realized Royce didn’t understand she was scared. He was used to using a lantern and probably thought this was commonplace to her also. She pinched her arm a little and felt pain, so she knew she wasn’t sleeping. It would be fun to play along with the Hotlzclaw’s Halloween fun. After all, they might be doing it to get her mind off the dreariness that always accompanies sadness and death in any family. It was fun in a way, and now she was beginning to enjoy the prank. It would be just like them to invite some hunky male guest to encourage a little matchmaking between them. It also wouldn’t be the first time they had pulled this trick.

As she heard Royce go out into the stable, she limped slowly back to the tack room. Certainly, she could feel her way a few feet in the darkness to the light switch. She’d just flip it on for a second while he was gone. Then she’d get her bearings and flip it off. It was strange to be in the room that she knew every nook and cranny yet to be in darkness. She listened to hear if his footsteps were coming back, but she heard only the sound of horses stirring and whinnying in their stalls. She realized they probably recognized the presence of Royce. He must be another person the Holtzclaws had hired to help out their son. Anyways, who had put horses back in their stalls? They had been sold when Gran died.

She stretched her hands out in front of her, reaching the far wall and feeling with her fingers towards the door. She felt the cool fall draft coming in through the cracks of the door. Just another foot and she’d feel the light switch! Fumbling cautiously at first, then frantically, she felt nothing – only the boards. Where could it be?

Suddenly, Royce reentered the room, his lantern casting a yellow glow.

“What are you doing, Miss? You should be careful in the dark. I came back as quickly as I could.”

“I was looking for the switch,” Donna said.

“The switch? You mean the switches, crops and buggy whips? They’re on the other wall. You won’t need them anyways, what would you want with a switch?”

“I thought I heard a mouse. It scared me.”

“Oh now, Miss, that makes sense. You know there are always mice around a stable. That’s why we have cats. You’ll be alright. Now if it’s a big fat rat, that’s another story. Here, I’ve brought one of the feed carts. I’ll take you up to the big house. We could walk, but it’s faster for me to load you in the cart and take you. That way you won’t have to limp.”

“Did you say a feed cart? Is it clean?”

“As clean as dry straw can be. If you mean is it a manure cart, of course not!”

“No, no—I didn’t mean that. I just never rode in a feed cart before.”

“I’ve never taken a woman for a ride in one either but I think it’s the fastest and easiest way to get you to the house. Let’s go out the back door. I’ve already taken the cart there.”

Royce crossed the room and opened the door for Donna. She wished she could run her hand down the wall again to find that blasted light switch.

Royce had the cart out front as promised.

“How do you want me to sit?” Suddenly, her long skirts seemed awkward.

“Here, take my hand, I will help you in. I think it best if you sit feet first towards the front. When I lift up the handles you will tip forward a bit. If not it’ll seem as though your head is tipping backwards and I don’t think you’ll find that too comfortable.”

Donna hoisted her skirts, took his large hand and gingerly sat on the edge of the cart. Dusty clover smells filled her nose and made her want to sneeze.

“Thank you for the blanket.”

Royce had carefully folded a large horse blanket for her to sit on.

“Yes, I thought it might cushion you. Now, if you were a plumper lass it might be a different story.”

Donna laughed.

“Here, you’ll have to hold the lantern while I take the handles. There’s no other way. Be careful.”

With this, Donna took the lantern and Royce slowly and gently lifted the handles of the cart as if she weighed no more than a marshmallow. This man was seriously strong! He pushed the wheel out of its spot in the gravel and they were on their way. Normally she would never have gone off with a strange man in Chicago, but this was an unusual circumstance. Besides, he was on the same property and knew all the people she knew.

“How far is it?” Donna asked, though she well knew. Royce didn’t know she had been back and forth between the stable and big house all her life.

“Oh, just a few minutes push, miss.”

As they rounded the corner of the stable, Donna craned her neck to try to catch a glimpse of her Cadillac. But the lantern didn’t throw much light and anyway she knew exactly where it was. She would come back and fetch it later. She snuck a look at Royce as he navigated their path. He was ruggedly handsome and now that they had gotten over their awkward introduction, he was undoubtedly gentlemanly. All in all, she would have told her girlfriends back in Chicago that he was probably a pretty good catch.

Royce took her in a northerly direction, not on the main drive as she thought he would.

“Why are we going this way?” she asked him while they bumped along.

“The shorter path past the pear orchard is smoother since it’s on grass.”

“I hope I’m not too heavy,” she said.

“Oh no, light as a feather.”

Royce wouldn’t have told her anything else, it would have been ungentlemanly and besides he was only a few inches from the back of her hair which smelt heavenly. If it wasn’t for the late hour and his limp, he would have loved to have pushed her about in this manner for hours.

Chapter Three

Ten minutes later, Royce pushed the cart up to the back entrance of the house. Gran always said in the old days it was the servant’s entrance, but now the family used it constantly since it was easier to take off their riding boots in the mud room. Formal guests still used the big entrance as they always called it, circling around the sunken goldfish pond and turning right into the huge wooden doors with the horse head doorknocker.

“Stay put,” Royce said. “I’ll knock for the maids.”

Donna just wanted to jump out of the cart and go through the door, but she stayed. It made it more fun. Being delivered by Royce also was fun. In fact, she sort of felt like Cinderella in the pumpkin coach. This whole evening was starting out to be memorable and even a bit romantic. She wondered who would come to the door. Would it be Mrs. Holtzclaw in a long formal costume dress? Or would she be dressed in a silly costume for Halloween? She couldn’t wait. This was really such a hoot. Or maybe their son might open it a crack and yell “surprise”. Perhaps her parents were playing a trick on her and had doubled back from their Chicago trip to pull a good one. She knew when they threw the door open the lights would blaze out, and the warmth from the oil furnace would envelop her. The annoying bumpy ride in the cart would have been worth it and they would all have a good long laugh. She had to admit the night air was getting a little chilly and she was looking forward to a well deserved hot shower. She turned to see who would open the door. It finally creaked open and she saw a strange middle aged woman with a white cloth cap on her head, wearing a black dress and a white lacey apron. She wore high top black shoes from what Donna saw. Her hair was pulled back behind her head with a clasp in it. She first smiled at Royce and then looked past him at Donna. Donna knew the maid, or whoever she was pretending to be a maid, could not see her clearly. But Donna saw her, since she was backlit by the soft candle lights of the house and the taper she was holding. She wished she could get a better look at her, perhaps to ascertain exactly who she was. Since Donna did not live around the area, she knew the Holtzclaws could have gotten anyone to play the part of a maid, a personal friend or party-goer. Of course! That would have made it even more believable, to get someone who was a stranger to Donna! While she sat there, proud to have figured this part of the trickery, a large mixed-breed dog suddenly burst of the house, bumping into the maid and almost bowling over Royce. He didn’t seem bothered by Royce, but headed directly to the cart.

Donna was scared – everything happened so fast. Since she was still in the cart, she had no defense against the dog. So in the few seconds that she had before the dog reached her, she didn’t know which way to turn. If Royce had been closer he could have struck at the dog, but he was up by the house. The snarling dog bounded closer to her and then he was so close, Donna saw his teeth.

Royce jumped off the stoop towards her and gave out a loud yell. Then, just as suddenly as the dog had lunged out of the house, he pulled up short.

“Rex!” Royce shouted. “Stop!”

Donna cringed back in the cart, but Rex now simply hung his tongue out and began wagging his tail.

“Thank heavens!” the maid cried out. “He hates strangers – just doesn’t tolerate them at all. It’s obvious you’re family! If not old Rex would have taken a chunk outta your leg!”

The maid laughed heartily. Donna didn't find it amusing, but she managed to laugh a little.

“Anyway, all’s well that ends well,” she said.

Royce took her hand and helped her out of the cart. She supposed he had whispered something to the maid at the door that she didn’t hear. No matter, it would soon all be cleared up and everyone would have a good laugh over it. It troubled her about the dog, though. Where had he come from? The Holtzlaws didn’t have any dogs the last time she visited. Strange. Royce walked her up to the door, with his lantern guiding her steps. With the maid holding the door open she stepped inside. Gran's mudroom entrance was always plain and Spartan. But while Donna looked around she saw everything seemed altered. The slate floor was gone; replaced by oak planks. The coat hooks that were immediately to the left were nonexistent and the wallpaper was simply a painted stucco wall. As the maid motioned her to come in farther so she could shut the door Donna felt a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. This was Fallow Field Farms…but yet it wasn't.

Surely she wasn't losing her mind? What on earth was wrong? Somehow she felt something was amiss and it wasn't just the surroundings. Royce and the maid were flesh and blood but their clothing and the surroundings seemed old fashioned for a reason. They acted comfortable in their clothes. Was it because she had somehow gone back in time? Could that be possible? She hadn't seen her car outside the stable, was it gone? Had something happened when she pricked her finger? Suddenly she felt faint and leaned against the wall.

Holy moly. What have I gotten myself into?

Royce and the maid were exchanging a bit of gossip while the woman closed the door. They noticed Donna's predicament and came over to her.

“Miss, is something wrong?” the maid asked with concern.

“Yes. I'm just…hungry.”

“I fear she hasn't eaten since the train ride, Mother,” Royce said. “Come on, let's fix her a plate in the kitchen before we take her any farther. Some of your good food and drink will make her feel better.”

“Yes, thank you. I think that's it. Just a touch of hunger,” Donna said.

“Here, I didn't tell you who I was. I'm Lilly, the cook and seamstress. I’m also Royce’s mother.”

“Pleased to meet you. I'm Donna Bradenton.”

“She's come in on the Chicago train,” Royce added. “I found her in the tack room all alone, lying on a pile of horse blankets.”

“Do tell?” Lilly said. “It's not safe for a woman to travel alone nowadays without an escort. You look so pale. I think a nice plate of roast and vegetables will heat you up quick.”

“Yes, Lilly's a fine cook,” Royce added.

Donna had to admit the smells from the kitchen were heavenly. She was seated on a wooden chair pulled up next to a marble-topped pastry table. She ran her hands over it, admiring the veining in thick milky stone. It was cool and smooth to the touch.

“Now, Royce, you stay too and have a bite. I know how hard you work.” She smiled at Royce.

“Mother, you’re a fine cook. The Bradentons are lucky to have you.”

Lilly smiled.

“Truthfully, I've had my supper a few hours ago. But I would enjoy a good cup of hot tea and some of that rich pound cake if you could spare it. I was boiling a pot of water for my last cup of tea when I had to go and fetch Miss Bradenton.”

Soon, Donna had a plate full of hot beef, gravy, fried potatoes and boiled cabbage in front of her. The food was plain but hearty and it seemed a feast to her. She thought it best to concentrate on the food while she puzzled over her situation. Thankfully, Lilly and Royce were preoccupied with their own gossip, preparing loose tea and slicing cake to notice her. Royce came over to the table with his large slice of cake and pulled up a chair while the kettle was put on to boil. The wood stove was stoked with chunks of wood; Donna saw them when Lilly opened the door to throw another piece in.

Donna looked around the room. They’re cooking with wood and use candles for lighting, Girlfriend, what’s wrong with this picture?

“Here—while the water’s boiling, I'll go tell Missus Bradenton that another guest has arrived. I don't know if it’ll make a difference, the party’s been in full swing for two hours now and the liquors been uncorked the same amount of time.”

With this, Lilly rolled her eyes at Royce and he nodded. Apparently it was a shared confidence. She walked through the swinging doors with a whoosh of skirts.

“Missus Bradenton hired Lilly away from a family in town. They were fixing to move to Boston anyways, so it worked out for everyone involved. She was an excellent cook and Missus Bradenton just had to have her at any price. So, she provided her husband a job also in the deal. He’s my step-father. He keeps the cow shed and helps the maids with the milking and cheese making. It worked out well for both of them.”

Donna nodded her head. She finished mopping up the last of her gravy with a biscuit she found in a basket by the stove. As the two of them sat quietly eating, Lilly reentered the kitchen.

“Mrs. Bradenton said for you to finish up your supper and join them if you wish. But she said she understood you might be tired and if you wanted to go straight to bed she understood that also. She said not to feel embarrassed, just do as you wish. Missus Bradenton is a very gracious lady.”

“It does feel good to sit here after my journey. I might just skip the party after all and go straight to bed. Yes, the more I think about it, a fresh start in the morning would be better.”

“She has been riding in the hay cart after all,” Royce said with a laugh. “Mother, I have to get back to my cottage. It's been a long day.”

“Oh, I know! On party nights, it feels so strange to stay up late!” Lilly said. Yes probably. What could it be, all of nine o’clock? At darkness people probably retired. This is just the shank of the evening. And who could the Mrs. Bradenton be? This is so strange, Donna thought. She kept her thoughts to herself on this issue but it was startling to think of being back in this time. By the way, what time was she in? What year was it? How could she casually ask?

Perhaps after a night’s sleep she might figure out more things.

Royce stood and handed his plate to Lilly. “It was scrumptious. Might you be so kind as to wrap me a piece in some cheese cloth or some brown paper to take back to my cottage for my morning coffee?”

“Yes, of course. Here's a tin bucket. I'll just slip it in here. To make it travel better, I'll wedge in some cookies around the edge.”

Royce took the bucket and headed to the door. He picked up his lantern and put his hand on the handle. “Miss Bradenton, if you need anything, please let me know.”

“Yes, of course, Royce. Thank you for everything tonight,” Donna said. Even though I don’t know him all that well, I know him better than these folks. I wish he wasn’t going. With this he passed back out into the blackness.

“Royce told me you lost all your luggage. I'll get one of the maids to fetch you some nightclothes and slippers and show you to your room. We'll assemble some kind of wardrobe for you in the morning if that is alright with you,” Lilly said.

“That’s fine. Just anything that will fit will be fine for tonight.” Donna thought it best if she maintained a bearing of a wealthier woman with the hired help. It seemed to her they might expect it and anything else would be odd to them. It looked like she had to play along with this bunch until she figured everything out.

“You sit here and I’ll get Annabelle to come help you. She’ll take you to your room and get you settled for the night, ma’am.”

Once again, Lilly left Donna in the kitchen. She sat still, looking out the lace curtains into the inky blackness outside. There used to be a yard light out there, she thought. She had never given any thought to time travel or other dimensions, yet here she sat dead center in the past. It must have happened when she pricked her finger. In the blink of an eye she was transported somehow through space and time. She rubbed her head in misery.

What of Rex, the dog? He seemed to recognize her, but how was that possible? He had never seen her. Just because she was of the same bloodline as the property owner wouldn't have mattered to him. A dog mainly relied on scent, so what had he picked up on? It dawned on her!

Great Gran's handkerchief! That had to be it. Could a person's scent stay on an article of clothing for such a long stretch of time?

She studied the kitchen. It was amazing to see how it was originally built. Since she had never seen photographs of the original house, she studied everything with interest. Where Gran used to have her dishwasher was just a large metal sink with a pump handle. Since there was no electricity, that meant no spigots. Buckets of water sat under the sink for washing and rinsing. So that meant outside there must be a well close by, perhaps right outside the house? Candle sconces on the walls cast light, though not a lot. A grouping of plain tallow candles was on the table and the iron stove cast some light through the cracks. Though Gran's house never had a fireplace in the kitchen, it did now, complete with a stone hearth with iron prongs for cooking pots to perch on and a teakettle balanced on some bricks. That must have been taken out and the chimney destroyed when Gran's oil furnace was installed in the Fifties. The cabinets were different also. Instead of closed wooden doors, they had glass fronts with white enamel knobs. Donna wondered what the rest of the house looked like. Lilly reentered the room with Annabelle in tow. Annabelle was probably lower in the pecking order of the maids, Donna felt, as she followed differentially a few steps behind Lilly. Lilly walked and acted with more authority, probably garnered through years of service in wealthier households. Annabelle smiled at Donna and kept her hands folded in front of her.

“Annabelle, Miss Bradenton will be staying in the Crows Nest room. Find her a warm nightgown and some slippers please.”

“Yes, Ma'am.”

“And she'll need some toiletries, perhaps a hairbrush, some soap, washrags and a towel. You can take her up now.”

Donna stood and followed Annabelle. They passed through the swinging door and she was curious as to how many people were at the party. She had been hearing sounds of piano playing, some singing, and glasses clinking while she was in the kitchen eating.

“Here, Miss, we'll skirt the library area and head up the stairs. All the guests are in the library now, since the meal is done. The men are having cigars and brandy and the ladies are having champagne.”

Donna couldn't very well tell Annabelle that she knew the layout of the house intimately. But she was curious about the guests and what they were doing. She'd try to catch a quick glance while they passed by. The hallway was quite long and the guests wouldn't normally have paid attention to anyone walking at a distance. At least this area of the house was better lit. She could now see a young woman seated at a grand piano, playing merrily away. People were gathered around her singing along loudly, some in key and some drunk enough that they were hanging onto each other for support. It was sort of like double margarita night at her favorite nightclub in Chicago. Like her girlfriends, they were humorous to watch. A large fireplace was at the far end of the library, with cheery flames leaping upwards throwing a bright glow over everyone. Everyone seemed to be dressed formally. The men were in tight fitted jackets with ties and stiffly starched shirts. The women had on long colorful gowns with various styles of hair, all long and held up with feathers, pins or sparkly do-dads.

“I’ll take you to your room, Miss, and see you settled, but then I have to get back to my chores.”

“Yes. Putting on a dinner party is always quite a job.”

She followed Annabelle up the stairs, past bedrooms and offices. She would have known the way in the complete blackness, but in truth, things may have changed from her modern memory. Her still painful ankle was a reminder of running into feed bags in the stable. The indoor carpeting wasn’t there, now there were throw rugs. Another maid appeared from one of the bedrooms.

“Rose! You startled me!”

“I was in the master bedroom,” Rose said in a sultry voice. “Missus Bradenton wanted me to set out a fresh towel in her room before I went back to the kitchen.”

Donna saw, even in the dimly lit corridor, that Rose was quite the opposite of Annabelle. Though she was dressed in the same plain maids clothing, she filled out the outfit with voluptuous curves. Some women just can't hide their femininity under any circumstances. Rose was one of them. She had a bolder demeanor about her, almost saucy. Donna had a feeling that Rose hadn't always been a maid. Annabelle might be fooled by her, but Donna wasn’t.

“Help me take Miss Bradenton up to the Crows Nest. Go to the linen closet and fetch some washrags and towels while I take her to the room and turn her bed down and help her undress,”

Annabelle said.

Help me undress? The idea seemed strange, but she was wearing a lot of clothes. She’d better go along with it. It did seem a little creepy, though.

Annabelle led the way with her candle and they turned right and started climbing up some stairs into the darkness. Now they were on the third floor, a room Donna used to play in when she was a child. The furnishings were plainer; a wash stand, a double bed from the looks of it and some sparse furnishings. She looked around while Annabelle turned back the heavy covers.

“It’s late at night, I won’t go to the pump house until the morning if that’s alright with you, Miss,” Annabelle said. “Then I’ll fetch you some water to wash up in before breakfast.”

Donna sat on the edge of a red velvet couch. “That’s fine.” Suddenly, the events of the day bore down on her and she was very tired. Strange people and strange events were wearing her down. She reached down to pull off her boots.

“Let me help you!” Lilly quickly moved over to her and took her boot to pull it off. She then removed the other one and pulled off Donna’s stockings. “Here, I’ll unbutton you.”

By this time, Rose had re-appeared, with an armful of washrags, towels, and a nightgown. Annabelle kept undressing Donna from her outfit, carefully folding her clothes and placing them on a chair behind her. Soon, Donna was down to her bra and panties and noticed the two maids eyeing her strangely. She realized they were staring at her lingerie. Her store-bought panties and bra were quite in contrast to the outer clothing, which seemed to exactly fit into the time period.

“Here’s your gown, Miss.” Annabelle stood holding the gown for Donna to step into. Donna realized they were waiting for her to remove the last remnants of her clothing. She turned her back and slipped out of the last two pieces. She heard them gasp and realized what they saw—the large fairy tattoo on the top of her waistline. Too late now. She couldn’t hide it. For all their propriety and manners, apparently stripping down the skin for clothing changes or washing was normal. She took the gown from Annabelle and stepped into it.

“That will be all for the night, ladies. Thank you so much.” She turned to see the startled looks in their eyes.

“We’ll come awaken you an hour before breakfast, Miss,” Rose said. They turned and started down the stairs.

Donna settled into the bed and had to admit it was wonderfully soft, probably stuffed with down. There was a faint whiff of lavender as she moved the quilt. She would try to figure out a game plan tomorrow. Tonight she was just plain bone tired. Her last thoughts were of Royce and how kind he had been to her. He had the sweetest old-fashioned manners. It would be nice if more men were like him.

Chapter Four

Donna was sound asleep and didn’t hear the maids climbing the stairs. The curtains in the room were heavy velvet and not a crack of light penetrated them. When they rounded the corner of the stairs, Donna halfway awoke, hearing their whispered voices. She thought she would play possum and pretend to be under the Sandman’s influence and perhaps pick up some information as to her whereabouts and the general household routine. Both the annoying stuffy smell of lavender lingering in the bedding and hearing the maids muted mutterings also meant she was still back in the past. Rats. This was not the way she hoped the day would begin.

“Look, I know something is odd about her. Did you see the tattoo?” Donna recognized Rose’s voice.

“Coo! Nobody has tattoos on their bums ‘cept pirates and heathens! Well, my brother has one, too, and he was a sailor.” That would be Annabelle. “I know, I saw it when you did!”

“Yes, but I saw it clearer. You have weak eyes.”

At this point, Donna emitted a fake snore and halfway rolled over to face the wall. Let them think she was still asleep and maybe they’d talk more.

“I wish I could have come up here last night to look at her clothes, but I was so tired from working the party. I wonder where she got them.”

Donna heard them just fine now, so her feigned sleep was working. They were whispering louder.

“She’s probably worn out, coming here from Chicago. Royce said he found her in the stable alone! What woman travels alone? Nobody, that’s who!” Once again, it was Rose. The chattering stopped. Donna lay still, hoping they would resume. She assumed they were picking through her clothing.

“Look at this thing! What do you make of this–this, bust band she had on last night! It looks like a horse girth. And so stretchy!” Annabelle must have been looking at her underwear, Donna assumed now. She heard the maids giggle. When did they invent brassieres, she wondered? She would have to explain that. She heard them snapping the straps, as silly school girls would. She thought perhaps she could start stirring so she could get some breakfast. She had no idea what time it was and wanted to be up before most of the general household. The best idea seemed to be flopping over onto her back and waggling an arm.

“Shh! Here now, she’s moving. Go get a quick look at her. Some things I couldn’t see good in the candle light last night, you know.” Once again, the bolder Rose spoke. Annabelle seemed to be the one to hold back on nosiness.

Donna kept her eyes squeezed tightly shut and steadied her breathing to lure them a little closer. She could feel the movement of air as they came closer to the bed.

“There! I thought so! Her hair has painted streaks in it! What on earth…?” Donna thought about the highlights she had applied on her last visit to the beauty shop. She thought the gold and bronze streaks were glamorous, but now they marked her as unusual and freakish in this time and place.

“I can’t see anything, you know I have weak eyes,” Annabelle said.

“They’re there. My God, I don’t know what they are—some kind of paint.” Rose was so close Donna could feel her gentle breath. She knew it was time to pretend to awaken for real. She gave a good long cough and halfway pushed herself up on her elbows.

“Oh! Miss! We thought we heard you callin’ out from downstairs!” Rose lied through her teeth, but Donna had to admit she had her cover story prepared.

“While we came up we brought you more clothing—we thought you might want to change into some fresh things!”

“That’s kind of you.” Donna rubbed her eyes, they were so dry feeling. She saw Rose staring intently at her face. At the same time she remembered her violet contact lenses. Better to remove them or have them question her eye color. They weren’t prescription anyway.

“Your eyes miss! They’re not the same—the color I mean. One is blue and one is pur—”

Donna saw Annabelle coming in closer. Quickly—she had to do something. She hoped her hands were halfway clean and while rubbing her eyes, plucked out the lens from her right eye. The left one seemed to be missing, perhaps she had rubbed it out and it was on the bedding. She pretended to squint and blink, all the while pinching the lens and hiding it in her hand.

“Purple? Oh no, my eyes are blue. It’s strange that you ask. Sometime they look different colors in different lights.”

“I didn’t mean anything, Miss. Just…I just thought you might have the pink eye or an infection. We could have Royce go to town and get you some tincture from the doctor.”

Rose certainly was persistent, Donna thought. It would be a good thing to keep her eye on her, until she got this time travel thing straightened out.

“Rose, I used to have a cat with different color eyes,” Annabelle spoke up. “You know odd things occur in nature that we can’t explain.”

Now, Donna sat up halfway in the bed.

“I’d really like to wash up,” she told the maids.

“Certainly, we'll fetch you a bucket of water in a minute. We have some boiling in the kitchen. We just wanted to show you the clothes we selected. Rose picked out a variety of sizes. You look to be sort of a medium sized person.”

“Thank you so much. Oh, and I found the chamber pot last night.” Now that was a fun experience.

Donna couldn't very well tell them she had got up immediately after they left and went into what was the bathroom when she last stayed in the room. However, it was simply a large storage closet, holding mops, rags, bottles of some kind of foul smelling disinfectant and piles of bedding. From the looks of things, this room was not used much and the closet was probably handy to store things for the second floor.

Yanking the curtains open to get some moonlight in the room, Donna had felt under the bed and found a chipped enamel chamber pot. Reluctantly, she used it but at least she got some relief. She would have to get used to the absence of indoor plumbing––either that or holding her liquid intake in the evenings.

There was a moment of awkward silence and she realized the maids might be hanging around to see if she had any more unusual body markings when she left the bed. Luckily, except for the streaked hair and tattoo, she had nothing else futuristic. She did have pierced ears, but that was not unusual in cultures around the world. She'd removed the contact lenses, so she could think of nothing else that might pique their interest.

“Er…we'll fetch your water, won’t we, Rose?”

For some reason, they wanted to travel in a pair, Donna figured so they could compare notes on their observations. Annabelle remarked to having weak eyes, and Rose might not have been the brightest, but she had street smarts. So be it, she’d watch her step around them.

Donna picked through the clothes and found what appeared to be a nice clean outfit. Long legged underwear, a kind of undershirt or button front bodice affair and a long sleeved white blouse seemed appropriate. Nothing had zippers, everything was buttoned or tied. The waistbands and collars were free of any tags. There were no union labels, no dry clean tags, or even sizes. She saw by the stitching that everything was handmade. She wondered when mechanical sewing machines were invented and had to admit she had no idea. The two maids hurried up with the water, Donna noticed. Her presence was probably the best gossip they’d had in a long time. So every minute they were away, she figured, they might miss something. She also had the feeling that they would not be passing the gossip along to Mrs. Bradenton if they cared to keep their positions. For that, she breathed a sigh of relief.

They had returned with a wooden bucket, a bowl of soft soap, some combs and hair pins. Annabelle filled the wash basin in the stand near the window and Rose stood nearby with towels. They waited until Donna washed her face and hands, and moved to her neck and chest. Since she had no deodorant, she soaped and rinsed heavily. When Rose handed her the towel to dry herself, she also offered a tin of talcum powder and a soft bristle brush. Donna took and dabbed the powder under her arms and thought it would be comparable to commercial deodorant. Rose also offered her a small bottle of cologne and Donna splashed it on liberally. I’ll smell like the rest of the household, she thought.

Then she started dressing. She thought Annabelle and Rose would keep a close watch on her, and they did. While they tidied up and made the bed she caught their sideways glances. She sat on the edge of a couch and pulled on her brassiere then the under drawers and the under blouse the maids had provided. She pulled on some black stockings which had a nice soft feel to them. She picked up the blouse and put that on, buttoning the abalone buttons. The skirt was next; she buttoned it backwards, and then twisted it around so the buttons were in the back. Lastly, she pulled on some leather boots with no closures or grommets, just a straight pull on with a tab on the back. They were a bit loose, but she wasn't complaining.

Looking around, she found a hairbrush on the bureau and brushed her hair. The natural boar bristles felt good against her scalp. She thought back to when she shampooed her hair last. She wondered when she could get a good shampooing again, and maybe she had better not ask just yet. They might think she was strange or asking to waste water. Every time you needed water, somebody would have to draw it from the well. Peering into the mirror, she almost did a double take. She had this mirror in her apartment in Chicago. Yes, this exact mirror! It was a family heirloom. She touched the frame and the glass lightly with her fingertips. The touch of the cool metal spooked her a bit. She looked around the room once again, but more deliberately. The quilt on her bed last night—yes! It was hanging on the wall of her apartment. It had been carefully preserved against any further damage by a preservation process that they used for wedding gowns. Friends and visitors often complimented her on it, its fine handiwork and beautiful mixture of colors. Now here she was, actually using it to keep warm at night and not just a wall decoration. All these beautiful items made her miss her other life. She was glad to be able to touch them and use them, but the feelings that they awoke in her were bittersweet.

* * * *

When Donna was busy brushing the snarls out of her hair, the two maids went back down the stairs. When they were a little distance away and beyond earshot, they begin chirping again.

“Did you hear what she said about the chamber pot?” Rose said. She leaned against the wall, careful to keep a watchful eye down the hall.

“I know! What else on earth would you do in the middle of the night? We all use chamber pots.” Annabelle was flabbergasted. “It’s either that or the outhouse and we forgot to tell her where that was. But she wouldn’t have found it in the dark.” She fiddled with a stray curl that had fallen out of her cap. “It was almost as if she was proud to have found the silly thing. I don’t understand her at all. We’ve never had a guest like her, that’s for sure!”

“Don’t you dare tell anyone what she said, they won’t believe us.” Rose said. “What if she’s not really who she says she is? Maybe she’s from a foreign country.”

“No, no of course not. The missus would have our ears,” Annabelle replied. “We’ll just keep this to ourselves for the time being. Say, you keep an eye on her and I will also. Then in case one of us misses something maybe the other will catch it!”

* * * *

Royce slept fitfully when he returned from the main house. He knew the path backwards and forwards, so the darkness meant nothing to him. Yet, as he walked, his mind tumbled and turned with the evening’s events.

The woman’s appearance unnerved him. He’d seen a lot in his twenty-eight years, but this was the strangest he could ever remember. She was pretty and seemed different than other women he had known in his daily dealings. She had a healthy glow to her, so she had probably spent a lot of time outdoors in the sun and fresh air. He knew of many wealthy women who routinely walked their properties, checking on livestock and out buildings. Of course, they would be with their foreman or husband, but still, not every woman liked to be holed away indoors completely. Her speech was informal and at the same time a bit bold. In most cases, a woman of her position would speak to him in a different tone, since he was only a working man. Yet she spoke to him almost as a counterpart, an equal. He had to admit he liked it. She seemed a bit addled, and her replies to him were a bit slow. Perhaps it was due to tiredness or the fact that she had fallen. Whatever the reason, Miss Bradenton was different than any other guest that had been on the property.

He pulled on his work clothes and boots. It was time to get to his chores. Normally, his life was routine. Work, eat, rest. He had a day off on Sundays and trips to town with the maids to fetch supplies. This was his station in life and he accepted it. What more could a working man want?

He thought back to what he had done as a young man. Working on fishing boats on Lake Michigan was rough, but the pay was decent. In the wintertime, when everything iced over, he found a job working in a Milwaukee brewery. After two years of that, his eyesight had begun to falter, but just on the left side. He had gone to a doctor and all he could say he was sorry, but it was something called a cataract and he would have to learn to live with it. He reached up to rub his patch and remembered the anger he felt that day. The doctor kindly suggested that Royce might want to consider wearing an eye patch to stop curious stares. Royce did it and actually found it to be a relief since the blurring was annoying and he found he could compensate over time.

Then two summers ago, there was a fire at the brewery and the owners said it would be shut down for a number of months until everything was repaired and back in running order. They told all the employees to take time off and return in the fall and they would rehire the original workers first. Being frugal, Royce had saved most of his salary and journeyed back to southern Michigan to visit friends, and his mother, whom he had not seen in two years. She had liked Royce being home again and said she heard they would soon be looking to hire a stable hand at Fallow Field farms.

Royce was hesitant to go, but she told him the job would include free living quarters. So Royce decided to check on it, and found the current stableman to be elderly and in failing health. He was only staying on, he told Royce, until Mrs. Bradenton found a substitute. He showed Royce around a bit and described the job. Royce said he had some experience with horses, from working with the draft horses at the brewery. The old man told him there was nothing to it; it was the same when you worked around any large farm animal. You fed and watered them, kept the stables clean, and maintained the tack and buggies. Naturally, there would be incidental handyman work, fence mending, and ground keeping. He told Royce he would recommend him if he was seriously interested, and Royce said he was.

Within two weeks time, he had a new job and a tidy cottage to live in. He preferred to keep his cottage simple and rather bare, but his mother insisted on giving him decorations and assorted cook pots and bedding. Though he protested and told his mother he had lived in a sparse boarding house while in Milwaukee, she insisted on arranging his cottage into something comfortable and livable.

Besides, he loved Fallow Field. It was composed of acres of prime fruit orchards and vineyards. The entire property was bordered on the western side by the slow moving Saint Joe River and on the northern side by a deep ravine. To the east and south were other smaller farms owned by local fruit farmers that raised pears, currents and plums. Fallow Field farm lay a few miles from Saint Joseph, a pleasant drive by buggy in daylight.

He learned his job quickly and liked the sameness of the routine. Feed and groom the horses, and save up handyman jobs for rainy days and winter time. He knew he would have the job as long as he wanted, and the longer he was there, the less he wanted to go back to the brewery. Fallow Field was beautiful and peaceful during all seasons. The city of Milwaukee was just that—a city, sprawling and dirty and growing every year. On the farm he had the peacefulness he longed for. The animals seemed to like his gentle ways and he soon learned to groom and tend to them so they shone with good health, inside and out.

He forked the hay to them from the cart. The stable had twelve horses in total; some were hacking horses for pleasure riding and four were draft-mixes to put in the traces for the heavy wagon or plowing.

As he heaved the hayfork to and fro, he thought again of Miss Bradenton and the events of last night. He could easily become besotted with that woman, but their social status was so different. There would be no chance at a romantic entanglement, or would there? She had seemed a bit odd that first night and it unnerved him. Perhaps that personality quirk would pass from her and she would be as normal as everyone else. He hoped she would stay for a long visit and perhaps they could meet up, either by coincidence or serendipity, on the farm. Most everyone at Fallow Field crossed paths during a typical day. So there was a chance, after all. He smiled and knew he wanted her. He wanted to loosen her hair and cover his chest with it. He wanted to listen to her breathing when they held each other close. He put the hayfork against the wall and wiped his hands on his pants. No, it was best to drive such thoughts from his mind. They were from different stations in life and would probably always remain that way. He should be ashamed of his thoughts. There were other jobs he needed to do today. It was best that he got on with them.

Chapter Five

“Fine. Now it's time to meet the relatives.” Donna felt a slight twinge of fear in her stomach but decided to ignore it. “Let’s see how well I can improvise.”

She had been running the family tree through her head late last night and again early this morning. Being one to always awaken clear headed and on top of things, she soon found she enjoyed this mental exercise. She and Gran used to go through the well documented family tree many times when she was a child. So she had a mental roadmap of who should be who and about what year it now was.

At first, seeing the party guests in the library she had not felt at a loss. At least by catching a glimpse of the family and the party goers, she had a pretty general idea of their ages and thus, the year she was in. By her closest reckoning, the year was between 1850 and 1880. The people she had seen appeared to be in their late twenties and early thirties. She would know more when she saw them in person and got closer to them.

“I should be able to get my bearings in a bit,” she mumbled.

Taking a last look around the room, she checked out some items of clothing that were hanging on pegs on the far wall. There were four white lace-edged caps, with tie strings. She admired their handiwork, and then realized they would be ideal to hide her hair from prying eyes. She wound her hair around itself and pinned it as securely as she could with some pins. Then she carefully pulled on the cap, tucking in all loose strands that she could. Tying it snugly, she took a look in the mirror. It was becoming and who would argue with a woman wearing a smart cap on a cool morning?

She went down the stairs and breathed in the unmistakable smell of bacon and eggs frying. She looked closer at the walls and floors now that it was daylight and she saw the furnishings in natural light. There were no clocks around and, judging by the slant of the light through the windows and the time of year, she figured it to be around seven o'clock. Since she knew her way back to the kitchen where she was last night, she made a detour and walked down the long second floor hallway that led past the bedrooms. The rooms were the same, though what was the office when her Gran was alive was now a small sitting room. The door to the master bedroom was closed and she heard loud snoring coming through the door.

She saw the room that had been the sewing room when she was a child. Judging by the bolts of cloth, scissors, and measuring tapes lying around, it had never varied from its original purpose. A plain wooden table stood in there, with knitting needles and skeins of yarn on top of it. Embroidery hoops hung from nails on the walls and a quilting frame was folded up and placed against the wall. She made her way down the winding staircase and knew that there were two entrances into the kitchen—one through the swinging doors she used last night and the other door that led into the pantry. Since she heard female voices through the doors, she paused to perhaps pick up some useful information before she was seen.

“I told you they'd sleep in. They always do after a night of heavy drinking,” said one voice, probably Rose.

“Shush. You shouldn't talk about the Mister and Missus that way. They treat us good and what's the harm of drinking some? They have plenty more bottles where those came from. Here, have some more bacon, Rose. That's one good thing of being a cook and maid; you get plenty to eat around this place. And we get a place to live too.” That would be Lilly. Donna wondered where their lodgings could be. She didn't know of any rooms in the house that could have been used for maid’s quarters.

“No, I don't want any bacon. Just some of the black coffee, thank ye,” Rose said. “I'm not feeling so well today.”

“I thought you looked a bit peaked. Here let me pour you some. We have at least another hour or so until the rest of the household wakes up.”

Donna heard cutlery and plates clinking then and figured the conversation would stop for a while. Anyway, she had decided to go on in and pick their brains for a while for any kind of information that might help her. She made sure to thump her foot a bit heavier on the step so they would hear her. For an added measure, she faked a loud cough so they would be alerted. She turned the corner and pushed her way through the swinging door.

“Good morning, ladies! How is everyone today?”

“Miss, you startled us! Good morning,” Lilly said. “How nice to see you, and the clothes appear to fit just fine, don't they?”

“Yes, everything was very nice. Could I have some breakfast? I'm just famished after my ordeal yesterday.”

“We'll bring some up to your room on a tray. You don't have to eat here with the help, ma'am. Yes, you certainly had a bit of an adventure yesterday.”

“Oh, that's no problem, I'd like just to sit here and relax. You two go on as if I'm not here at all. I'll take some of those bacon and eggs, Lilly.”

“Yes, ma'am. Could I offer you some bread and butter too? I’ll go out to the spring house to fetch the butter crock. It’ll just take a minute. I didn’t think anyone would be up so early.”

“Oh no, don’t bother yourself on getting the butter. I’ll take some jam if you have it though.”

Donna thought it best again to remember her perceived position and keep in mind Lilly and Rose's positions. She already picked up on the fact that assuming an attitude of wealth or breeding could make the household help ignore idiosyncrasies or gaps in typical behavior for this time period. Sitting and sipping her coffee, she casually asked, “Would you have any newspapers from this week? I'm a little behind on news.”

“No, Miss, but when we go into town tomorrow, Royce will veer off to the post office road and fetch the papers for the whole week for Missus Bradenton. Then after she and the mister are done, they give them to us to read. Well, those of us that can read. Some of us household help just like to look at the pictures of fashions and styles, you know.”

She was not embarrassed to say this, Donna noticed. That was one thing from this time that Donna realized, many people only had a few years of schooling and some women might just go from childhood directly into domestic work.

“You don’t have any old ones around then?”

“Oh no, ma’m.” Lilly said. “Why on earth would we do that? Everyone knows they go to the outhouse to be hung on the nail.”

Donna tried to make light of her mistake. “In our household in Chicago, I guess we just had more papers.”

“Of course––you’re probably hungry. You might have to wait a long time for the Missus to wake up, even though she's got company. Excuse me for saying that, Miss Bradenton.”

“That's alright. I've heard the household was like this––sort of loosely run.”

“Begging your pardon, Miss, and I don’t mean to be forward and all, but how do you know?

You never having been here and all. I've been in employment here ten years and you've not visited.”

“I've lived in Chicago all my life, but I've corresponded with my cousins from this area. They've filled me in with family news.” Donna accepted the plate of food Lily offered her and began to eat. Everything was as delicious as it was last night.

Now Rose spoke up. “I guess you know regular breakfast won't be until nine, if then. Sometimes they just skip it and have lunch. Depends on how much of a party there's been the night before.”

Lilly shot Rose a sharp look as if to quiet her.

“Lilly, breakfast was delicious. I think I'll go into the porch to read until the family gets up. I'll be there if anyone is looking for me.” Donna dabbed her lips and placed the napkin on the table.

“Yes, Miss, of course.”

Donna thought she might just as well, because she had no clothing to hang up or brush since she had no luggage. Right now she had the loaned clothing she wore on her back, plus the outfit she arrived in. There was no reason to go back and sit in her room; she would enjoy sitting by herself and gathering her thoughts for the next round—whatever it would be.

“I'll go into the library first and pick out a few books if you don’t think anyone would mind.”

“Of course, Ma'am, help yourself. Rose and I'll be tidying up in there in a few minutes––from the party last night.”

“Yes, of course. I'll only be a short while.”

She left the kitchen and slowly stopped her steps. She paused outside the door after it quit swinging.

“Well, what do you think of that?”

“What, Rose?”

“The cap. Now she’s hiding her hair. I told you what Annabelle and I saw last night—the strange hair stripes and the tattoo no less! I tell you there is something odd going on with her. I just don’t know what it is yet.”

“Oh, please don’t make a fuss over a guest and her odd habits,” Lilly said. “Come on, do your best to stay out of trouble. We have plenty of work to do anyway with cleanup.”

Donna padded quietly down the hall to the library. She attempted to tread lightly, remembering the Bradentons were probably still deeply asleep after the previous nights’ drinking. No matter, the library should probably give her some clues as to the time period she was in. The curtains in the library were closed, so she opened them up to let the morning sun stream in. These people sure liked everything dark and gloomy for some reason. The furniture was heavy and of indeterminate origin. Donna was no antiques expert and couldn’t tell American made from European. Seat cushions were either embroidered or colorful velvet. She sat on the sofa and almost slid off.

“Hmm, probably horsehair.”

She had always read that it was slick and uncomfortable. She walked around the room and went to the piano, hoping to see something useful there. Peering inside the instrument she saw a sticker that said, 1800 – St. John’s Emporium, Boston.

Well, that’s just wonderful. But how long ago was 1800? She did not know and the piano was in mint condition. It could have been recently purchased or simply lightly used. Flipping up the piano seat, she found the insides bare. Nothing but a coating of light dust and a dead silverfish.

“Nothing of use here,” she said ruefully, shutting the lid with a creak. Walking around the room, she picked up and fingered the cups, plates and drinking glasses. Peering into them, she hoped to see something, anything. There was nothing but the dregs of alcohol, coffee and some loose tea leaves.

Checking the ashtrays, she found cigar stubs and abandoned pipes. Truthfully, it didn’t look much different to the remnants of a cocktail party in Cicero or Skokie. The cigar bands offered no information.

“Huh, some things never change.”

She found a four-wheeled serving cart next to the wall, filled with liquor bottles. She checked the labels and found the brewery or distillery names on labels, but that was all. Moving now to the side of the room, she investigated the beautiful leather-bound books lining the shelves. She plucked three out and took them over to the window. Opening the first, Vanity Fair by William Makepeace Thackery, she was thrilled to see a print date on the inside of 1848.

“Now I’m getting somewhere!” She placed Thackery’s novel on the couch and opened the second book, Jayne Eyre by Charlotte Bronte. At first she was disappointed to see the first page printed, First edition, eighteen-forty-seven. This one apparently had been a gift, since it was inscribed in a thick black penmanship. To Elizabeth, on your wedding day. Aunt Marcelle, 1865.

“Fantastic! Elizabeth was my great-great-great-great-grandmother Bradenton!” Donna wasn’t exactly certain of the day and month of the wedding, but it seems from the family tree her Gran maintained, it was in the mid-eighteen hundreds, eighteen-fifty perhaps. She placed that book on the couch next to Ivanhoe. The third book was of no help to her, being published in England in 1810.

She took them back to their shelf and replaced them. Then she sat on a cushion in the window seat. She sighed and felt a little relieved, but still scared. How would she explain her presence when the Bradentons finally got up? She could improvise it with the staff for a while, and she figured they would be too polite or scared to say anything to their employer about her odd appearance and actions. Perhaps for a while that would work, but how long? How would she get back to her time? Once again, her head started to ache with worry. She gazed outside at October’s dying grass and semi-naked trees. There was really no front lawn; it was more or less just an overgrown field that came up to the front of the house. Weeds and grass that were too high had probably been cut down by the help with a scythe, judging by large clumps of cuttings. What you would have called the lawn was packed dirt, with stone pathways leading to each of the entrance doors. She figured landscaping had not quite caught on yet from the looks of things.

Then she heard the maids coming down the hall. She had been so engrossed in her thoughts she had forgotten their cleaning mission.

Annabelle and Rose glanced her way and said nothing, but began bustling around the room, cleaning and wiping. They had brought a cart which helped with the glass and bottle removal. Annabelle had a small bucket and rag, which she carefully wrung the water out of and began wiping down the wooden furniture. Rose skirted around the outskirts of the room with a broom and dustpan, shooing dust and tobacco crumbs into it. They both smiled at Donna but made no attempt at conversation. Soon they were on their way back to the kitchen to wash and dry the glassware.

Donna wished she had something to occupy herself, but there was nothing except mind games and time riddles. She thought it best to deal with the here and now and figure out the passage through time later.

“Just as well, I need to have my story straight when I begin telling it.”

She ran plausible scenarios through her head, backwards and forwards. She could pretend to be sick, addled, or soft-minded, but that might be dangerous. They might try to take her to a doctor or admit her into a sanitarium. Then, they might try to contact her family in Chicago. She could be arrogant and demanding and put them on the defensive. This was another bad idea, since they could insist she leave and decide she was some kind of gypsy, thief or imposter. Why shouldn’t they? She had no identifying papers, no letters of introduction and no clothing. That could turn disastrous and she would end up shoved out on the road with only the clothes on her back. She didn’t have any money to travel with, and besides, where would she go?

There had always been charlatans and identify thieves since the beginning of time. The Bradentons might be cautious also. She thought it best to be friendly and stay open to clues in their conversation. She could be a distant relative, traveling, who decided just to drop in. Might that not work?

One time she and her mother played hostess to a distant relative from Poland. All they had was a phone call from the girl’s aunt, who they knew socially, in the suburbs and an initial meeting in a hotel lobby downtown where the girl was staying. They had a pleasant evening, with dining out, and a little sightseeing without any problems, except a slight language barrier which was breeched with laughter and sign language. They could have been easily tricked into accepting her visit, but at least they did know the aunt. People crashed awards shows and parties all the time. All it required was a little chutzpah.

She felt a little better, and thought it best to play that hand. She would throw herself literally and figuratively at their feet, expecting hospitality and comfort for a short while. Later, she could figure out a way to get back to the year two thousand ten which she had come from. Once again, she heard footsteps. This time it was not the maids. Mr. and Mrs. Bradenton entered the room, a little worse for wear, Donna thought.

“Good morning, young lady!” Mr. Bradenton said. His wife was on his arm, a little pale but smiling. A good sign, Donna thought.

She remembered her manners, rose, and went to take his hand. She started shaking it firmly, but then had doubts. Perhaps in this time period, a woman would offer a weaker, more feminine grasp. Unsure of the mannerisms, she split the difference. She offered a medium-strength clasp and hoped it would be acceptable. Mr. Bradenton surprised her and not only shook her hand but grasped her arm halfway to her elbow. He immediately set her at ease with his friendly gesture. He was dressed in a manner that Donna would have thought a bit stuffy and formal in her time, but people were more particular in their way of dressing in this time—whatever time it was. He had on polished black boots, black trousers, a white shirt and jacket, though tie-less. Perhaps that was good enough to greet guests on a weekday in your own house. Donna would have been dressed in a jogging suit and slippers if it was up to her.

Mrs. Bradenton was dressed in a sort of shirt-waist dress, with her dark hair pulled back into a loose braid. Her hair was very long, with the bottom of the braid hitting low on her hips. She’s probably never cut her hair, Donna thought. Her shoes were a sort of soft looking leather, almost made as a ballet slipper. They didn’t look durable enough to wear outside; they were probably her house shoes. People in their social class wouldn’t wear bedroom clothing to greet a guest.

“My dear,” Mrs. Bradenton said. “You must fill us in on your trip. Please, sit down and we’ll have the maids bring some tea and toast.” She looked curiously at Donna’s face, and Donna hoped that nothing was amiss. All her makeup was washed or worn off and she was rather bare faced. Suddenly, she realized Mrs. Bradenton was staring at her cap. Reaching up to touch her white cap, she laughed.

“I’ve been having a bit of a head cold. The doctor back home told me to wear a hat as much as possible until it passed.” There, that should satisfy them. “Plus, it was cold on the train when I traveled here.”

“Yes, yes, keep the head warm. Grow your hair long and tuck it up into a nightcap also,” Mr. Bradenton agreed. “Sounds like a good doctor, I wish I had him around here. Our town could always use another prudent physician.”

Lilly appeared.

“Might I get you anything, ma’am––possibly some hot tea and toast?” Donna got the feeling this partying was a normal routine, with the maid already having a menu to offer.

“Yes, that might be good,” Mrs. Bradenton said. “I could use some strong Oolong and honey this morning.”

She gestured weakly for Donna to sit down. Fantastic, they were moderately hung over from last night! Donna figured the conversation would be rather general and probably nothing specific since they didn’t actually know her. Perhaps if she was lucky, they might give her clues as to who she was.

“We are terribly sorry you didn’t get to join the party last night,” Mr. Bradenton offered. His friendliness was certainly reassuring enough.

“Oh, I got here too late. Plus I was tired from the trip and the confusion, you know. I thought it best just to have the maids show me to my room and start fresh today,” Donna said.

“Yes, that’s always the best way,” Mrs. Bradenton agreed. “The party was already winding down when you arrived. It probably wouldn’t have been much fun.”

Donna studied her, realizing she was looking at her great-great-great-great grandmother. The moment was spooky. Mrs. Bradenton was of average height, pale and a bit plump around the middle. Her hands were delicate and covered with an assortment of large rings. Donna thought back to the eighteen hundreds and remembered women were supposed to stay out of the sun. She probably never exercised in her life, except for some formal dancing. Donna was glad now she had skipped the tanning salon last week and her tan in the bottle product was now worn completely off. She should look just as pale as the rest of them. It would have been difficult to explain a deep tan at the end of October to these people. The only people who were tanned were probably field hands.

“You’ll need to fill us in on Chicago. It’s been so long since we’ve been,” Mr. Bradenton spoke.

“Yes, dear, and we’re overdue for a visit. I haven’t been feeling well and have been having some pains in my back. When I get better, I want to go and do some shopping.” Mrs. Bradenton nudged her husband with her elbow.

“Yes, I promised you.” He winked at Donna. “Matter of fact, I’m taking Elizabeth to the doctor today. We’re leaving in a little bit.”

Donna noticed the look in his eyes changed to a more concerned demeanor. He continued, “You’re welcome to come with us if you wish. But then a young person might not want to sit around the doctor’s office.”

Lilly reappeared with a large silver serving tray of toast, jellies, and butters. Rose brought up the rear with another tray holding a tea pot and three cups.

“I think I’ll sit it out. This place is so soothing after the hustle and bustle of the big city.”

“All our guests say that!”

They filled their plates with tea and butter and the delicious toppings. Mrs. Bradenton told Donna all the jellies and butters were made at the farm. Donna nodded her head silently in agreement. Though she had eaten breakfast with the maids, she had to admit the hot tea and toast were scrumptious. Maybe it was this country air.

“You do so look like someone we know from Chicago. Please fill us in on which relative you favor?” Mrs. Bradenton asked.

Donna felt a bit uncomfortable. They were asking questions she had no ready answer for. She squirmed in her seat trying to come up with a plausible answer.

Just then Mrs. Bradenton leaned forward with a look of pain on her pale face.

“Here, here, Dear.” Mr. Bradenton jumped up, almost spilling his breakfast tea. “Just stay put—I’ll have the maids bring a hot compress.” With this, he dashed down the hall.

“It’ll pass. It always does,” she managed through clenched teeth.

“I’m so sorry,” Donna said. “Is there anything I can do?”

“Here, sit and hold my hand until George gets back. Get my mind off my pains.”

Donna stood and went to comfort her relative. Her mental acrobatics were set aside while she tended to another ailing human being. She heard a clattering in the kitchen, as if people were rushing around fetching things.

“I didn’t used to be this way. It happened when we were riding horses. George and I were courting and we decided to go out for a ride. My horse was startled…” at this point she gasped.

“You don’t have to explain,” Donna said. “I get the picture.”

George Bradenton came rushing back down the hall with a bowl. Donna noticed he didn’t even have the maids do it, probably figuring he could do it faster himself. He sat the bowl down on the tray, taking out some hot towels. Then he folded up four or five of them into a sort of large pad and placed it behind his wife’s back.

“There, there, dear. This will help in a minute or two.” Elizabeth Bradenton closed her eyes as the warmth of the towels worked through her cotton dress.

“Right now, that’s what the doctor says to do. That, and take a good stiff dose of whiskey if the pain gets too unbearable.”

Donna nodded. She thought to what modern medicine could do, with physical therapy, spinal fusion, and if nothing else, pain patches and acetaminophen. Dosing oneself with whiskey seemed jolting to her, but on the other hand, what did modern drugs do but dull pains and destroy your liver?

Then as quickly as the pain hit her, Elizabeth Bradenton straightened up. “George, I think the hot towels worked.”

“Marvelous! If you feel up to it, we’ll head to the doctor.”

Lilly hovered in the library entrance.

“Is there anything I can do, Sir?”

“Go to the stable and tell Royce I need a wagon immediately. Have him harness up the team and bring it to the front entrance.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“We’ll take the smaller of the wagons. It’ll be faster than the hay wagon.”

Soon, Royce arrived with the team and helped Mr. Bradenton and the maids assist his wife into the wagon and arranged a lap robe over her. Donna thought she had recovered fairly fast for the severity of the spell that she’d had.

After they had driven off, she again had time on her hands. She thought this was a good time to work on her life story—a background resume, so to speak, if anyone asked about it. After all, she couldn’t go on with the vague introduction of being from Chicago. She could be a college student. Yes, that would be good! She could easily pull that off. No wait; she was a little old at twenty-eight, wasn’t she? Were there professional college students back then as in modern times?

Young men and women who attended college for ten years? And what colleges were open to women now? Were they only open to men? That might be a little risky using that approach. Could she pass for a governess or tutor? But would a woman from a wealthy family do that? She certainly wouldn’t need the money.

With her advanced age of twenty-eight, she would probably be considered a spinster in the family household. Yet she didn’t think that actually was a profession, though you could idle away your hours with visiting and stitching and painting. That was a possibility. But even better, she could be a writer! That was a suitable career for a young woman from Chicago. She would give that serious thought.

Chapter Six

Selecting a heather colored wrap from the hallway coat rack, Donna thought it a fine time to take a walk around the property. She was curious as to what the place was like, the lay of the property and the buildings. With no one about, she could peek around and check things out in a leisurely manner.

She went to the kitchen to tell the maids where she was going. Though there was nothing she could imagine happening to her, she thought it best to let them at least know she would be outside in case they started looking for her. Taking a walk was a perfectly respectable thing for her to do and shouldn’t arouse any suspicions. Both of the young women were busy cleaning and cutting up vegetables. The sight of them peeling and washing made her feel certain they would be occupied in case she got caught up in her explorations and wanted to pry a bit deeper than might be considered normal for a guest. They appeared disinterested in her exercise and went back to their work bent over the large metal pans on the floor.

Pushing open the front door, she squinted into the bright fall sunshine. Since the house was built on a small hill, she saw a great deal of Fallow Field sprawled before her. She thought she would head to the western side of the property first, and continue circling around in a counterclockwise tack until she ended up back at the house. First she would go to where the flower gardens were—or where they were in 2010.

The path was fairly good. Someone had set in large flat fieldstones to give better footing and ease the discomfort of walking in dirt and mud. The flower garden was now a vegetable garden. Wilted cabbage stalks and twisted, blackened corn filled neat rows. Other root vegetables had been picked and the tops tossed. About a hundred feet from the garden patch was a large grape arbor. The vines were empty of fruit, but the curly brittle stems and thin leaves still hung on for dear life.

The path ran out and she walked across flattened grass. In the spot where she now stood, her Gran had kept an ornamental goldfish pond. Both of them used to love to feed the fish bits of mashed potatoes or even miniscule pieces of boiled eggs or crumbled hamburger. Now the place was traversed by a small stream, with a solid little rock building squatting on top of it. The miniature building, no more than five feet tall, was the size of a modern lawnmower shed, roughly ten or twelve feet square. Curious, she walked around it, unable to figure out what was inside. The windowless door was shut with a simple hook and eye latch and a large rock shoved against it. She grunted and moved the rock, and then unhooked the door to see what was inside. Peering into the semi-darkness, she was surprised to see the water running underneath the floor boards! A ditch was cut through the house and a wooden trough was set in the middle with crocks and baskets set into it! So this was the spring house Lilly mentioned! She had read about them, how people had placed perishables, mainly dairy products into them to keep them chilled until they could be used. People lucky enough to have a cold stream running through their properties had built-in natural refrigerators! Lifting the lid on the biggest crock, she found it was full of milk. A smaller crock held a large lump of yellow butter. Brown eggs filled a wire basket. A glass bottle had what appeared to be lemonade in it. Shelves lined the long side walls and they held a few baskets of potatoes and onions. There was even a tin dipper for drinking, hanging on a nail.

Backing out, she shut the door, hooked the latch, and moved the stone back in place. She figured out the stone was to keep out animals. The spring house would work fairly well in hot weather, but when it turned to winter, all you had to do was set your perishables outside the window ledge or in the cellar for cooling purposes.

Looking around, she saw she was still alone. All the important people were either in town or working in the house.

She didn’t have to cross the stream; there was nothing on the other side except an empty field and some fruit trees. She guessed that they must have been apple trees from the vinegar smell of rotting fruit on the ground. Continuing on her scouting mission, she headed to the barn. Walking parallel to fences, she toyed with the idea of hopping over for a shorter route. She stopped and leaned her arms against the top rail and almost convinced herself to give it a try. She placed her foot on the bottom rail and rested it there. She knew they had horses, of course, but didn’t know if they kept any bulls. The spring house had butter and milk, so the odds were great that they had a Guernsey or Holstein. Even goats were a possibility. So she had reservations on entering a pasture and getting charged by who-knows-what. Besides, the long skirts she was wearing would have been a hindrance in topping the rails.

Sighing, she pulled her foot back.

Walking along the fence, she did see some goats peek their heads around the corner of the barn. She didn’t see any with large horns, though, but still was glad she hesitated on her original idea.

As she approached the stables, she heard horses neighing. Though there were three pastures in close proximity, no horses were outside. She realized that Royce might not have had time to let them out due to the unexpected trip to Saint Joe with Mrs. Bradenton. She would have loved to have gone inside, but thought it best not to, since she was alone. Nothing might have been said, but she thought it best to be cautious.

After circling the stable, she headed over to the barn, her last stop. Royce said Lilly’s husband kept the cows and milked them, so perhaps he was around. Didn’t you have to milk cows twice a day? If so, they should already have had their morning session. While these thoughts went through her mind, he came around the corner with a milking bucket in one hand and a three-legged stool in the other. Both were startled to see the other.

“Good morning, ma’am!” he said.

“Good morning.” Donna felt a bit foolish, as though she had been caught where she shouldn’t have been. But she composed herself, and put on a friendly face.

“I was just out taking a walk while the Bradenton’s went to the doctor.”

The man didn’t appear the least bit surprised at this news.

Donna continued. “You must be Lilly’s husband.”

“Yes, I’m Edward. Glad to meet you.”

He shifted his weight from one foot to the other in an uneasy way, and Donna thought perhaps she was keeping him from his chores.

“If you don’t mind, I need to get this milk to the kitchen for the maids. They’re expecting it.”

“Well, it was nice meeting you,” she said cheerily.

“Yes, ma’am, same here.” He nodded his head a bit and set the stool down. Now that she had actually met someone, albeit unexpectedly, she thought it best to head back to the main house. If she had glanced at the windows on the bottom floor, she would have seen someone drawing back the curtains.

After she hung the cloak in the closet, she fetched a cup of tea and retreated to the library again. She would have at least another two hours to while away until everyone returned. Sipping and reading, she tried to keep her mind on the book. But every time she would start a new chapter, she was reminded she was adrift in time. The thought scared her and she fought vainly to keep the black fear at bay. How could she get back to 2010? Would she be able to do it on her own? Could someone else help her, and if so, who?

She was jarred back to reality by the sound of the maids’ voices when they opened the front door to help the Bradentons out of the wagon. Only an hour had passed after all, by the clock on the wall. They must have been watching out the window because Donna didn’t hear the wagon wheels. Curious as to the outcome of the doctors visit, she placed her book on the couch and went out with the rest of the staff.

Mr. Bradenton helped his wife down from her seat. She gingerly placed her feet on the stool that Lilly provided. Donna thought she had a good color to her cheeks, but she still appeared to be in some pain. Royce held the team’s head, steadying the bays. She stepped up at first to assist, but when the maids bustled forward to help, she stepped back. Between the maids and Mr. Bradenton, they led her back into the library. Royce threw out an iron weight to hold the team steady, and then flipped back some horse rugs in the back of the wagon. Putting his fingers to his lips, he gestured for Donna to step towards the wagon. She did and then he nodded towards the contents of the back. Donna saw four large brown traveling trunks. What on earth did Royce mean by showing her these?

She looked at him and he began whispering. “Your lost luggage.”

Donna didn’t know what to make of this development. Where had Royce come upon these and why was he helping her?

“Let’s get these in the house, shall we?” he said.

He flipped the first one out, setting it on its end. He did the same with the others, stacking them neatly by the door. Each time he bent down, his hair covered his eye patch and he had to brush it back with his hand. It made him look all the more intriguing. Donna could just imagine the muscles in his back expanding as he lifted the trunks. What a magnificent physique he must have!

Flipping the first one on his shoulder as if it was a feather, he waited until she led him in the doorway, then down the hall.

“Tell the maids we’re going upstairs.”

“Yes, of course.” Now Royce was close to the stairs and he paused while Donna went into the kitchen to tell the maids what he requested.

“Are you familiar with the layout of the house?” she asked him as he followed her up the stairs.

“Yes, a bit, mainly from helping move furniture and such the last couple of years.”

“My room is on the third floor—the Crows Nest,” she said.

“Fine. We’ll have a chance to talk since I have four trunks to move,” Royce said. Setting the first trunk down in her bedroom, he paused as if to catch his breath.

“Are they heavy?”

“Not especially. They’re full of women’s clothing. The heaviest things are shoes and boots, but they’re really nothing to worry about. I just want to spend a little time with you.”

Donna felt flattered. If Royce was trying for a way to score points with her, he certainly had succeeded.

“Where did you get them? This is wonderful. I mean, I am sure this stuff will come in handy.”

“They were at the train station and have been for two years. I don’t want to look like I am pushing off old clothing on you, but perhaps it will help until your people send you more things from Chicago. I am not sure how long your visit is. If you are staying a few weeks, the maids will be glad to take you shopping in town.”

Donna waited for him to continue.

“Two years? I don’t understand. So you stole them?”

“No, I never stole anything in my life. They belong to a woman long dead. They’ll never do her any good now, but they will you. Let’s say we’re borrowing them, with intent to replace them later on.”

Donna gasped.

Royce popped open the latch.

“Here. Start acquainting yourself with everything. Plus we can talk while you do it.”

Donna looked at the unfamiliar objects and started taking them out and placed them on her bed.

Royce leaned against the wall, watching her. He unknotted a handkerchief from his neck and wiped his brow.

“The woman was near your size and height, though a bit bustier. If anybody—like the maids—question the trunks, just say I picked them up for you at the train station. I doubt if they will, though.”

Donna picked out a beautiful embroidered white blouse. “But what if the styles have changed?”

“No matter. Good quality clothing never goes out of style. The Bradentons probably would never bring it up. You could say they were imported from Europe.”

“Good thinking. You are right about classic styles. I could be into retro. But still, what about the woman’s death? Tell me about that.”

“In due time. Let’s go down to the wagon to fetch another one.” Royce puzzled what she meant by retro and why Donna would be in it, but now was no time to puzzle over a strange word.

Going down the hallway, Royce began speaking in a loud voice. “I looked around the train station and found some of your missing luggage. Wasn’t that lucky?” Then he began waving his hands.

Donna figured out his signal and spoke. “How can I ever thank you enough?”

Smiling at each other, they went back outside.

While lifting the second trunk, Royce continued filling Donna in on his morning’s activities.

“When Mr. Brandenton took his wife to the doctor, I decided to drop by the depot. I remembered seeing a pile of trunks in the back room ages ago. Luckily I remembered the woman’s family had never had them sent back to Chicago.”

“How did you know the woman’s size and all? Had you seen her around Saint Joe?”

Royce hoisted the second trunk on his shoulders. “No, I courted her maid when she was here.”

“Didn’t the man at the station see you taking the trunks?”

Royce laughed. “Not old Brewster! He’s drunk most days by this time of the morning. He doesn’t see much coming or going when he’s in his cups. I parked the wagon by the loading bays and casually entered the building as if looking for something, parcels perhaps for the Missus. No one paid much attention. I took a quick look around, saw the trunks, and loaded them up, posthaste.”

For the second time, they headed up the stairs. When they were safely in her room, he spoke again.

“There were two wealthy sisters, vigorous outdoorsy spinsters actually, who vacationed here two summers ago at one of the downtown hotels. They brought their own personal maids. I began seeing one of them when she had free time in the evenings and weekends.” He sat on the edge of Donna’s bed. She waited for him to continue.

“One day they decided to rent a rowboat and go out onto Lake Michigan. The maids stayed at the hotel. An unexpected wave swamped the boat and one drowned. The other was rescued by passing fishermen.”

“How horrible,” Donna said, shuddering.

“Yes, it was. The remaining sister left immediately after the funeral. She said the family would send for the belongings later on, but they never did. We assumed they were so griefstricken they couldn’t bear to see the clothing again.”

He stood to leave. Donna stood also, but he motioned her to stay.

“It’d be better if you don’t follow me each time. The maids might suspect something. Just stay and sort through the clothing.”

“Good thinking.”

Royce then left, though not before brushing her hand. Though a slight movement, it was sincere and touching.

Donna turned to her task, lifting out the neatly folded clothing. Little sachets had been packed in each layer, so the clothing had a sweet, fresh smell even after two years. Donna also detected the aroma of fine perfume. She rationalized that if the train station was completely dry all the time, clothing would be in a finely preserved state if it was laundered properly before being packed. She took hangers from the wardrobe and began hanging and smoothing each garment. At first she felt a bit queasy at the thought of wearing a dead woman’s clothing. But she thought of people who regularly purchased items are resale shops around Chicago and it didn’t seem to bother them. Besides, she was in desperate straits. Inspecting the clothes was secondary. She wanted to savor the touch of Royce, the outdoorsy smell that he had on his coat. Being touched by a man was not new to her, but in this time and place it seemed to have a stronger pull on her senses. She wanted to spend more time with him now that she was getting to know him a bit. Royce returned with the third trunk, and then the last one. He popped the latch on each one and showed her how the devices shut.

“I can’t leave the team down there any longer. I have to get them back to the stable and my chores wait also. Come see me later…in the early evening if you can.”

She grasped his arm. “Why are you helping me? You don’t even know me.”

“I can’t explain it. Something inside told me to get the trunks today. The timing was right and you certainly needed clothing to carry out your charade of normalcy while here at Fallow Field. I figured we could create other things to make your past believable. We’ll work together.”

Impulsively, Donna reached out and clasped her arms around his neck. Royce’s face was but a hairsbreadth from hers. Her heart began pounding and other household sounds faded away. She pressed her lips to his with urgency, as if she might never see him again. It felt silly, but she could hardly breathe when she felt the heady pressure of his mouth against her. She wanted him to know how much this kindness meant to her. He, in turn, slid his arms around her waist and returned her kiss with ardor. She tingled inside and felt suddenly feverish. Without another word, he turned and left. Donna finally relaxed.

Chapter Seven

The early morning doctor visit threw off everyone’s schedules. The maids resumed their routine, Mrs. Bradenton rested in her room and her husband requested a tray of cold cuts and cheeses to eat in private. It appeared not so much that the hosts were rude, but perhaps just exhausted. Donna figured that she would be entertaining herself for a while longer and that was fine with her. She wanted to visit Royce anyway. She asked the maids to make her a sandwich of some cold meat and mustard and said she would eat it in the library while she read. When the rest of the household was busy cooking or napping, she thought it an opportune time to slip out to the stable.

Entering the front door, she saw Royce with his back to her, grooming one of the mares. This was the first time she had seen him without his coat and it was difficult not stare at the sheer masculine beauty of his broad back.

“Hello!” She tried to speak before she startled the horses.

“Hello, yourself!” Royce replied, turning around. “What might I do for you this fine morning?”

“I’ve got another problem. Maybe you can help me.”

“Of course you have.” In a lower voice, he said, “At least we solved the issue of missing clothing today.”

He walked closer and placed his curry comb and brush on a bucket. When he walked up to Donna she detected a distinctively male scent to him. It was musky and appealing. She untied her white cap and let her hair tumble from under it.

“It’s my hair. I need it dyed.” With the backwash of afternoon light, her highlighted hair glinted tantalizingly.

“How on earth…what do you mean, dye it?” Royce asked incredulously. He walked closer to finger the gold strands. Being so close to him again took her breath away. She remembered how his mouth felt against hers.

“Dye it, stain it. Do you have something around here? Perhaps there’s an item in the stable that you could use?” Donna’s voice was strained. She knew when she was a girl she read about pioneer girls staining their lips and cheeks red with crushed berries. Colonists dyed fabrics and yarns with nut husks and clay and other natural things.

“I can help you, aye,” Royce replied. “But you’ll have to tell me the reason why. Are you on the run from someone in the city?” He looked Donna straight in the eye. “I’m a pretty good judge of character, too, so don’t think you can fool me.”

“I wish it was that simple.” Donna replaced her cap, and walked farther into the stable in case anyone should chance by. “I’m a pretty good judge myself. And from the looks of you, Royce, you’re a trustworthy man. Sooner or later I’ll have to tell you the truth.” She walked to what looked to be a portable mounting block and took a seat on it. “Would you like to talk while you groom?”

“Yes, that would look appropriate in case we had a visitor.”

Donna sighed with appreciation. It was nice to actually have a man think of propriety. As long as it appeared she might be stuck back in this time, she might as well soak up some of the old fashioned manners. She certainly was attracted to Royce, yet she understood his hesitancy for showing public displays of affection.

“Now tell me, why are we doing this? Is there something you're not telling me that I need to know?”

Donna flinched inwardly and felt a knot forming in her stomach. She knew she would soon have to take someone into her confidence. But it would have to be some somebody that she could trust explicitly. Would Royce be this person? She didn't have any other reason to believe otherwise and her female intuition told her that he was trustworthy. There was something in his demeanor that she found reassuring. She’d never been in a position to trust someone with her utmost confidences, actually her life in this case. She hadn't considered the worst case scenario, which could be jail or public punishment.

Though she hadn't technically done anything illegal, she was passing herself off as a relative and the family had taken her in and fed and clothed her. She hadn't stolen anything but in their eyes she could be misrepresenting herself, perhaps to trick or defraud them. In any case, her actions and speech would cause anyone to wonder exactly what her true intentions were. In modern times, people like this were called con artists and charlatans, sometimes robbing families of their possessions and money.

Telling Royce all the truth at once might backfire on her, she realized. Perhaps it would be better to dole out the truth in small chunks and gradually get him to trust her, to help her out. And what exactly was she going to ask him to do after disguising her hair? Help her travel back to the future? Would he be open to what she would tell him, or would he scoff?

“Please, let’s get on with the dying and we’ll talk then. Can we do it in private—just in case someone would happen by?” She’d had enough close calls with meddling maids for a while.

“Yes, we could go to my cottage. That is of course if you don’t mind.” Royce smiled.

“It won’t matter to me if it won’t matter to you. I don’t want to put your job in jeopardy,” she said.

“No it wasn’t that at all. I wouldn’t want anyone talking about you. I’ll shut the filly back in her box; you just go to my cottage. The door’s open, just go on in.” He unchained the horse and Donna stood up. She turned as if to say something to him, but then thought the better of it.

Royce sensed a feeling of fear that emanated from her. Women were touchy creatures he had found over the years, what with their usual female problems and volatile dispositions. Her frightened look seemed to pass away and she smiled warmly at him. He smiled back.

“It’ll be alright,” he said. “Whatever it is, your secret’s safe with me.”

Donna walked out into the sunlight and turned out of his sight. Royce led the horse to her box and bolted the door. Going to the tack room, he got a bucket, some old tin cups, and a variety of stains and dyes he used on the harness when it was new and needed to be softened and oiled. Feeling a bit stealthy, he looked out the windows and saw nobody in the stable area. Then he went to his cottage. When he pushed the door open he saw Donna sitting at his small work table, admiring his scrimshaw work from the previous night.

“You do scrimshaw, Royce?”

“Yes, I learned it when I worked on a steamboat. It helps to while away the hours when you out on the Lakes.”

Donna picked up a piece of whalebone he had been carving. “But freshwater sailors typically aren’t scrimshanders, are they? What is the design you’re doing on this piece?”

Royce took the piece of whalebone from her hand. “To answer your first question, an old salt taught it to me. He had learned it on an old whaler out of Boston. We ended up on the same ship for a while, when he was at the end of his career on the high seas, you might say. Gave me some of his old sail making needles too. I already had the knives.” He rubbed the design thoughtfully.

“This is just a bear I began. I suppose it will be a polar bear when I’m done.” He sat the piece back on the table. “Here. Turn your back to the fireplace. I’ll add more wood to the fire and start a lamp. We can talk about the scrimshaw while I paint the dye on your hair.”

“All right.” Donna had been used to several very good male hairdressers in Chicago, but never one two hundred years in the past. She was used to paying top dollar for hair treatments, but desperate times called for desperate measures, she had always heard.

“How will you blend it in?” Donna looked at her hair in a mirror she had taken off the wall before Royce arrived.

“I’ve got some brushes I used for the scrimshaw. They’ve already been stained with blank ink, so it doesn’t matter. This won’t hurt them. How did you know it was whalebone? Most women don't know that.”

“Oh, I read a lot.” Donna laughed. “And I know scrimshaw is sometimes made out of whale ivory. Besides they used to make women’s corsets out of whalebone.”

“Used to? They still do. But yes, that's right. Let your hair down, please.”

Donna took the remaining pins and clips out of her hair. As she shook her hair to free it of the small metal and bone pieces, some of them fell to the slate floor with a tinkling sound. She would have bent to pick them up, but Royce was now detangling her hair with his fingertips. She sat still to feel the slow and sure movement of his fingers in her hair and on her scalp. She shut her eyes for a minute and enjoyed the sensation. It helped alleviate some of the fright she had felt since arriving at Fallow Field.

Royce had to admit, it had been a long time since he'd caressed a woman's hair like this. Too many years to admit and too long for his liking. With his job being where it was and the cottage in which he lived, it was difficult to meet many women of marrying age. His usual encounters with womenfolk had been in town and that was usually only in passing. He tended to keep to himself, and he wasn't pursued by many females either. Perhaps it was his eye patch or perhaps his handyman’s job. Either way, he was content with his life and didn't hold to much soothsaying as to his future, either married or single. Whatever lot he fell into, that was the end of it. He neither sought out nor went out of his way to make many changes. Whatever happened, happened, was his motto.

“Your hair is thick and healthy…very thick. In fact, instead of me trying to dye your hair, I could just thin it out and nobody would be the wiser. Many times I've had to thin a horse’s tail. Sometimes the Bradentons buy a new horse and he will arrive all full of burs and twigs and in an outright mess. Rather than try to detangle the mess, we just thin it out carefully with a sharp knife. If you do it neatly, it makes the whole tail fine and tidy looking.”

Donna knew she had a thick head of hair, it ran in her family. She had it professionally thinned before during her college days. But lately she had grown it longer and thicker and she knew she had plenty to spare.

“Your idea is good. Let's do that.”

“I will, but first you'll have to tell me how you got these stripes in here in the first place. They’re so even, perhaps you had a portrait painter add them in, but why would you have that done?” Royce asked.

“Do you want the truth?” Donna asked.

“Yes, you might as well tell me. I have a feeling it’ll be strange.” Royce replied.

“It’s commonplace to me, but strange to you in your time.” She waited but he said nothing.

“Where I am from, women go to beauty shops. We go to them to fix our hair, to paint our nails, to wax our legs.” She heard Royce’s steady breathing.

“Wax your legs? Why would a woman rub candle wax on her legs?”

“It's not candle wax, its bees wax, well never mind. I don't want to get off the subject. Let's stick to hair,” Donna said.

Royce looked at her quizzically. “When a woman wants to fix her hair in a different style she simply has her maid do it or another woman in the family. I can't imagine going to a shop to have this done.”

“There are shops that specialize in things where I'm from. You know how styles change.”

“Yes, women are always looking in the magazines and newspapers to see how women in Paris and New York are fixing their hair. Each year Missus Bradenton is doing something new. The maids seem to keep theirs about the same.”

Donna could feel Royce’s knife slicing gently. “Your knife is sharp.”

“You never know when you'll need a good cutting edge around a farm.”

“The stripes are made with chemicals the stylist paints on your hair.”

“Chemicals?”

“Yes, many women just want the stripes to contrast. Blonde is a favorite color.” She thought he would be surprised to see how many women wanted to be blondes in the future.

“A few years back they even called them skunk stripes.”

Now Royce laughed loudly. “I'm sorry—women would want stripes in her hair resembling a common skunk? That is strange. You must tell me about the place you come from. I don't think it’s Chicago like you said. Perhaps you hail from Europe.”

“No, I'm from Chicago, Royce. I'm from Chicago…in the future…the year two-thousand and ten.” She waited for his reply. “I don't expect you to believe me,” she continued, “but it's the truth.”

“I don't know what to say. How did you get here?” Royce's voice remained flat and emotionless.

“You think I'm joking with you, don’t you?” Donna held her head in her hands. “I don't know what else to tell you but the truth.”

“I’ll listen,” Royce said. “I have seen some strange and wondrous things in my life and some had no explanation. Once I saw a comet and no one could explain it to me. They said great scholars had charted the heavens and predicted its course. How could I doubt them? I am an uneducated man. I know a lot of sailing and fishing and brewery work and I know the moon has a pull on the tides and they say the earth is round. Many men did not believe this so many years ago.”

“I came here traveling through time, I guess you would say. It was on Halloween night, the year two-thousand and ten. I was in the tack room, the very room you found me in. I had come from a costume shop.”

“Another shop?” Royce asked.

“Yes, a shop that rents party costumes to the public. I sat on the old saddle stand in my complete costume. I wanted to bring back happy memories of my childhood and my grandmother.”

“Go on,” Royce said. “I’m listening.” He now took a large toothed comb and ran it through her hair.

“I took out my silver brooch and accidentally stuck myself in the finger. When I saw the blood I fainted. I have a weak stomach when it comes to things like that.”

“Aye, many women do…and some men do, too, though they won't admit it.”

“That's pretty much it. When I came to, you were picking me up as if I was a sack of potatoes. I had to think quickly, to tell you something, anything.”

“So that's why you acted so strange about the train and the lost luggage and all.”

“Yes. I had no explanation ready for my lack of clothing. I just had to make things up as they were happening to me.”

“That explains a lot of things. Now what would you like me to do to help you out?”

“I need to think how to travel back. I mean my family and job are in the future and here I sit in the past.” She turned to give him a searching look.

“I see. You’re saying you can’t stay here forever as a guest of my time?”

“I can for a while. I know in this time you are in, people go visit and stay for months at a time. But eventually that time will be up and I have to go…somewhere. At that point what will I do? I have no money, no connections.”

“Let me think on it and perhaps we can work out a plan. Are you sure you don't want to stay here in this time? Doesn't it suit you? You could just stay in town, get a job.”

“No, that wouldn't work. The Bradentons think I’m related to them. In a way I am, but in future generations. They will expect me to leave and go back to my family in Chicago. They are already asking questions about Chicago and inviting me to go shopping. Do you understand?

There is no family to go back to in Chicago, no house, no address.”

“I understand better now. There would be a lot of explaining to do and they could have you thrown in jail.”

“I know, and I don't want that. So for the present I’ll play along. They may think I’m strange, but I know no other way.”

“All right now, let's brush on some color.” He reached over to his window and took some kind of bottle with a dark liquid in it.

“What's that?”

“A new kind of dye I've been experimenting with.” He uncorked the stopper on the bottle and dipped his brush in it. Donna saw him withdraw the bristles and wipe off the mahogany colored excess inside the lip. “It's some distilled color I made up from hickory shells. I'm trying to find some new stains for the scrimshaw that are not indigo ink or burnt charcoal. This I can make up myself and not have to buy more in town. You might want to remove your jacket.”

The wood sputtered and sparked in the fireplace. Royce threw some more kindling and another chunk of maple on top of the already smoldering chunks. The warmer the room was the faster Donna’s hair would dry.

Donna gathered up her long locks and held them on top of her head. Small tendrils dipped down and curled around her ears.

“What are you waiting for?” she asked. “We need to hurry.”

“Nothing, I apologize for letting my imagination run wild with me. I should place something on your shoulders in case the dye drips. I don't know if it’ll wash out of your clothing.”

“Oh, right.” Donna hadn't thought about that.

Royce took one of his old flannel nightshirts and draped it gently around her neck.

“I’ve got a better idea.” With this, Donna unbuttoned her blouse and unhooked the brassiere that bound her breasts. She tossed them onto Royce’s bed. She replaced the nightshirt, casually draping it over herself.

“There, now there won’t be any mysterious markings.” She smiled at Royce, watching the shocked expression flit across his face as he saw her bare-chested.

Gulping, he started working, beginning at the bottom of Donna’s hair and working upward and outward with his brush. He knew they were both in jeopardy now, but the very danger of it excited him.

Donna flinched as she felt the cold dye touch her scalp. Strand by strand, he patiently worked.

“Please, tell me about your scrimshaw.”

“As you can see, I wear an eye patch. You might think I've lost my eye or been born deformed, but it's not that way at all. I was born with two normal eyes. When I was in my early twenties, a white film of sorts began clouding over my eye.” He continued his painting. He was now on the outer layer of Donna's hair. “I think it started before that, perhaps when I was working on the fishing boat. It seemed like one eye began weakening, but to look in a mirror, or have my shipmates look in to it, we saw nothing.”

“How long did you work on the fishing boat?” Donna asked him.

“Almost five years. Finally, I got tired of the icy waters and began working at a brewery in Milwaukee. It was at that time I saw a slight white film on my eye. I saw three different doctors in the city, but none could help me. They said very old people get them. The third and last one said he'd seen a baby born that way once. The parents thought it was marked somehow and may have had an evil eye, but he said he persuaded them it was no such thing and not to harm the infant.”

He took his lantern and now walked around Donna, studying his handiwork. The room increased in warmth as the hardwood burned furiously. He felt a trickle of sweat run down his cheek.

“Now we need to dry it before you go out.” He pulled out a three-legged stool and motioned her to move closer with her back to fire.

“As any young man, I had to work for a living. Having one eye didn't bother me, but having people—women especially—stare at me began bothering me. So I went to a saddle shop and asked them to make me some leather eye patches. They measured my head to make the back strap snug so I don't have to tie and untie all the time.”

“I think you look very rakish,” Donna said. “Like a swarthy pirate. I never dated a man with an eye patch.”

“Thank you. I take it off at night when I'm alone in the cottage and nobody’s around.”

Donna nodded. She was busy lifting and fanning her hair in front of the heat, fingering the strands apart to make them dry faster. When she bent to flip her hair, her breasts swayed tantalizingly.

“I think it's dry now.” She stood and let Royce’s nightshirt fall to the floor, exposing herself again from the waist up. They stared at each other silently for a second.

“You can’t go now – you’ve tormented me with your body.” He stared at her as the fire backlit her hips and breasts.

“We both want each other, don’t we?” She licked her lips and took a step towards him.

“Yes. There is a physical attraction.” He felt suddenly weak in his knees, as if he’d never seen a woman half dressed before. He appraised her beauty and knew he had to have her, and quickly. She closed the distance between them and then stopped to turn.

“Unbutton my skirt. We don’t have much time.”

Royce did as she said, tugging the garment down around her hips. He stared in amazement at the blue dancing fairy that was inked into her skin. While he was puzzling over this, she stepped out of the confines of the skirt.

He then slid his hands slowly up her back, then down her sides. He let his fingers brush lightly over the sides of her breasts, hearing her breathing change. Next, he bent to kiss her hips. He then slid his hand up her arms for a few seconds, and then dropped them again, his fingers touching the edges of her breasts. He felt her shiver, and then she grabbed his hands and clasped them to her breasts.

“Kiss me again, the way you did in your room,” he breathed into the nape of her neck.

Donna turned slowly, sliding her hands up to encircle Royce’s neck. She stroked the back of his head, while he cradled her closer to his body. The sensation of her bare breasts rubbing against his coarse work shirt made her feel faint.

His head came down and he kissed her in a demanding, yet cool manner. She kissed him back, prodding his mouth with her tongue, blatantly wanting him and wanting him to know it. They edged their way towards his bed, one small step at a time. Their deliberate slow motion only enhanced the fact that she could feel his erection through his pants. She moved onto the edge of his bed, feeling the coverlet underneath her bare bottom. They disentangled their bodies hurriedly so he could undress and she took this time to kick off her shoes. She stared at him hungrily, eyeing his hard body and muscular build that she had only been able to imagine before.

He covered her body now and she buried her hands in his black hair. He kissed her ears and her throat until she heard herself moan in anticipation. She opened her eyes to gaze into his and he felt him nudge her legs open with his knees. Slowly, he pressed into her wetness. She accepted him quickly and easily. She didn’t expect him to be surprised, since she figured he knew she wasn’t a virgin at her age.

Silently, they began to make love. He pressed her down into the mattress with his weight and she eagerly pushed back with her pelvis. His strong thrusts were matched equally by her acceptance and hunger. She was not shy in letting him know that she was pleased. They rolled and briefly she was on top of him, straddling and moving in a wanton manner. He looked up at her and smiled, encouraging her on.

He rolled her once more and she locked her legs around his waist, encouraging him with feral impatience in their mating.

Suddenly, he groaned and his body stiffened. Donna could feel him spend quickly and rapidly into her. Though Royce was immediately still, Donna was still not sated. Yet she felt satisfied in a way Royce would not have understood. Their lovemaking was too hurried, too abrupt for her to reach the peaks she wanted.

Royce rolled off her and exhaled loudly. “You’ve done me in, Donna.”

She caressed his chest hair and draped her leg over his hip. “I must be going soon. You understand.” She let her fingers trail down onto the moist skin of his stomach.

“Yes, I know. Go ahead and start dressing. You have less hair now then when you came. Perhaps we should just plait it into a long braid and place your cap back on.”

As Donna quickly dressed herself, Royce got off his bed and found a wide toothed comb. He stood behind Donna and ran it through her hair, separating it neatly into three equal strands. He flipped the side lengths over her shoulders and then nimbly began plaiting with the center section. Quickly, he had it neatly braided and secured with a piece of black string he pulled from his shirt pocket. He took the small mirror off the wall and handed it to Donna so she could admire his handiwork.

He was pleased to see her smile.

“This is beautiful! Where did you learn to braid like this?”

“I do it all the time on the horse manes and tails. It's pretty and the women ask me to do it, especially on market days when we all go to town.”

“Thank you so much, Royce.”

“It's my pleasure, Donna.”

She headed to the door, but he went ahead of her and motioned for her to wait.

“Go back to the house and don’t mention you were here. It won’t bring up awkward questions.”

Donna brushed past him, with nary a backward glance. However, she waved her fingers behind her back as a sort of secret goodbye. He smiled. She intrigued him and he wondered if her tale was true. What would she have to gain by it? Certainly nothing from him, but would she harm or rob the Bradentons? She didn't appear to be an evil woman; he hoped his gut instinct was correct.

He watched her as she walked up the lane and then disappeared through the trees. “I believe you, Donna, if no one else will. I’d like to hear what the future is like.”

Chapter Eight

The remaining afternoon and early evening had been relaxed and once again, Donna seemed to blend into the household’s daily routine. Part of this was the maid’s keeping in their station, and the owners’ rather lax lifestyle. All this was to her advantage, because questions remained unasked. Empty time was good for Donna to ponder her choices and plan her actions. Mr. Bradenton was receiving an unexpected visitor, a neighbor who wanted to discuss renting out some acreage for crops in the next year. Donna had been reading and, since the library was huge, she didn’t feel that she should excuse herself while the two men discussed business. Finally, when their discussion dragged on, she shut her book and decided to go upstairs to visit Mrs. Bradenton and see exactly what was going on with her.

She saw that her door was ajar and knocked lightly to let her know who was there.

“Come in, come in!” Mrs. Bradenton called out with a low and thick voice. Donna wasn’t sure if it was from pain or medication. She pushed the door the rest of the way and walked in. Mrs. Bradenton was propped up on a large pile of pillows, a cup of tea at the bedstead and a book face down on the coverlet. She seemed unexpectedly happy after the morning’s events.

“I was reading and then your husband had a visitor. So I thought I’d come up and see how you were doing. You gave me quite a fright this morning!”

“Yes, I had a spell. And I hate that you saw me that way. But sometimes it happens.” She sighed and looked out the window. “How is the weather outside?”

“It’s strange.” Donna now pulled up a chair and sat next to the bed. “It seems like a warm front is coming in and it feels like summer.”

“Oh, good! The heat is better for my ache and pains!” Mrs. Bradenton said. Donna patted her arm. “You’re too young to be feeling bad!”

“I know. Only twenty-five and look at me. Flat on my back like an old decrepit woman. I hate it.” She brushed some stray hairs that peeked out from underneath her head scarf. Donna was glad. Now that she knew Mrs Bradentons real age, she could pinpoint her in the timeline of the family tree.

“Did the doctor give you anything for the pain?” Donna examined a bottle on the table and a variety of packets of powder.

“He gives me the same items every time. Silly aspirin packets and another bottle of liniment. Rubbish. I get more relief with a good mug of rum.”

Donna laughed. “The aspirin sounds like it would cure a lot of ills. I recommend it.” She uncorked the brown glass bottle to sniff the liniment.

Mrs. Bradenton was now the one laughing when she saw the look of disgust on Donna’s face.

“It’ll curl your nose, that’s for sure!”

“Phew.” Donna quickly corked the bottle. “That’s some strong stuff. I bet that’ll warm up your back.”

“Oh yes, Rose will rub some on me in a little bit, warms up right quick, too. It’s got wormwood in it.” She sank back into her pillows.

“I won’t stay much longer.” Donna thought she had stayed long enough. She knew nothing was more miserable than having company when you felt under the weather.

“Don’t let me scare you off! I’m just resting a bit. My back seems to be feeling a bit better,”

Mrs. Bradenton said. “I haven’t been a very good hostess, have I?”

“Please don’t worry about that. You need to get your back on the mend. I can amuse myself.”

“I feel so guilty.” Now Mrs. Bradenton fluttered her hands.

“Missus Bradenton, please! It’s no matter! I am enjoying your house completely! And the food is wonderful and my room is beautiful!” Donna stood to open the curtains a bit more. “Here!

Let’s enjoy the beautiful sunshine! Perhaps it will perk up your spirits!”

“No, I feel we should be entertaining you more.”

“I can spend my day with walks and your wonderful library! I’ve been enjoying reading in the quiet. Fallow Field is the exact opposite of Chicago!”

“Really, Donna. We should be taking you on buggy rides and visiting neighbors while you’re here.” She looked up at Donna with her large, beautiful blue eyes. “Young people like amusements!” She sighed with guilt. “I know! When George comes up to visit me in a while, I’ll make a suggestion to him.”

“What’s that?” Donna asked.

“That he should at least take you out for a buggy ride tomorrow. Or saddle up a few mounts. Would you like that?” Her face lit up.

“Tremendously! I can’t think of anything better with this warm weather!”

“Yes, that’s a start! I will feel tons better, knowing you are having some fun while here!”

Donna blushed at the mention of fun. If Aunt Elizabeth only knew what she had been doing, she would faint.

* * * *

Donna awoke early and realized the room was very warm. She had kicked off the covers sometime during the night and didn’t know it. The warm front had continued to blow in after dark. It was strange, she thought, because now she had no way to see weather forecasts for the upcoming week or month. Seeing them on the Chicago television had become a daily necessity, and now she realized she was at the whim of nature each and every day. October was usually a dreary and cheerless month, even in the future.

She washed up in the basin using the pitcher of water left over from last night. Loosely brushing her hair, she pinned it back with a clip. Dressing in a comfortable shift covered by a plaid robe out of one of the trunks, she padded downstairs.

The maids had not even arrived yet to begin breakfast. She peeked out the front door and saw Edward had already brought a fresh bucket of milk, covered with a lid. She had to admit, the foods she had eaten since her arrival had all been delicious. All the ingredients were fresh and made almost daily. It was a big change in her diet compared to what she was used to in Chicago. A typical breakfast was a carrot muffin and latte from Starbucks. Lunch was a frozen dinner microwaved at the office at noon. Supper was more frozen or canned food, or occasionally, Chinese take-out from the restaurant down the block.

She walked around the downstairs, checking out the rooms one by one. Everything was tidy and in place. She peeked into every room, looking at the furnishings, the fireplaces, and the lanterns and candles. It seemed so strange to her not to have electricity at the flip of a switch. Of course, she thought, you can do without it, but it’s such a convenience. Each window had heavy drapes, probably to keep out the cold Michigan winds. Draft control was probably of high importance on the maids tasks. All the floors were wooden, not wall-to-wall carpet like her Gran’s house had in 2010. There were carpets, but they were thin in some places, probably Persian. In other spots, you would see a hand-woven or crocheted rag rug, some fairly large in size.

Clanking bowls and pots drew her back to the kitchen where the maids had arrived to begin breakfast preparations. In one way, she wanted to watch them cooking and baking, but another told her to mind her manners and find something else to occupy herself for the time being. Walking to the dining room, she pulled up a chair and thought she’d look out at the meadow through the picture window. It was something she’d always enjoyed doing when she was a girl. Happy memories of the times she spent with her grandmother in this same room ran suddenly through her mind. How she wished she could hold and kiss her again. Traveling back in time had been bittersweet. The thought struck her as odd when she sat on the brocade cushion. The chair was different, but the window and the house were the same. Perhaps some of the saplings she was now gazing at were mature trees in 2010.

Something moved. She looked harder at the undergrowth by the large stands of trees. A large herd of deer walked close by the house. They began eating something off the ground. Donna knew there were pin oak trees there, so there might be some acorns. The hickories would have nuts underneath them, though she was unsure what time of year they ripened. Seeing nature so close and unafraid was thrilling, better than seeing them in a movie. She was so absorbed by the animal’s grazing that she failed to see Mr. and Mrs. Bradenton enter the room.

“Good morning, Donna!” Mrs. Bradenton hobbled carefully over to the table. “Do you enjoy watching my deer herd?”

“Are they really your deer herd?”

“She thinks they’re her pets,” Mr. Bradenton said. “But when I shoot one for the smokehouse, she’ll speak a different story.”

“Oh, George, don’t joke so about the beautiful animals.”

“Beth, you know all the creatures on earth were put here for our sustenance.”

Donna lived and worked with so many vegetarians, it seemed funny to hear people talking about killing and smoking deer for the table.

“I know what you believe. But sometimes I think we should let the deer roam free and just kill a fat calf when we want some meat.”

“Cattle are good, but good lean venison is the best when I have the cooks make some jerky for me.” He picked up a brass telescope to sight in on the deer better. “And yes, I know you snitch a few pieces of the jerky for yourself, too.”

Lilly stuck her head through the door.

“Mister Bradenton, will you want some oatmeal for breakfast?”

“Yes, Lilly. Thank you. That’ll be fine. And fry up a rasher of bacon, too. Make sure to get some of that good white fat off the side too. You know how I like it.”

Donna cringed inwardly. These folks sure didn’t worry about fat and cholesterol content.

“Here, I’ll bring you a pot of hot tea while we make breakfast, then.”

In just a few minutes, Lilly came out with a tray with cups and saucers, cream, sugar and spoons. She arranged everything for them, then turned and started laying out the kindling for a fire.

“Just make a small one, Lilly. Enough to take the chill out of the room,” Mrs. Bradenton said.

“Yes ma’am.” Lilly bent to her tasks, piling up the dry wood and arranging some crumpled paper in a pattern that was pleasing to her. She stood and took a small ash bucket into the kitchen to fetch a hot coal from the stove.

“No need to waste a match,” she said, poking the hot chunk of coal amidst her kindling. The flames leapt up quickly, licking the kindling and turning the paper into black crisps. After rubbing her hands in front of the small flames, she placed the fire screen back into place and returned to the kitchen.

Mrs. Bradenton poured herself some tea, then added sugar to her liking.

“So, tell us, Donna. How long can we expect you to stay with us?”

Donna expected this to come up sooner or later so at least she had an answer ready.

“I hope you don’t mind me staying on a while longer. At first I didn’t really plan to stay but a few days extra after your Halloween party. I got to thinking how pleasant it was here and if you didn’t mind I would like to stay a month or so. I am on an unexpected break from tutoring a friend’s child in Chicago. The family decided to travel to the Continent and take the little girl with them.”

Mrs. Bradenton nodded and smiled at what Donna said.

“At first, the girl was going to continue her studies while her parents were gone. They planned to leave her with a spinster aunt for the duration.”

“What happened to the little girl?” Mr. Bradenton asked. “Did the parents decide they would miss her? I know a trip to Europe can take a good three months to do the Grand Tour.”

“It wasn’t so much that the parents would miss little Emily. It was that the spinster aunt had a secret romance brewing with a man and decided to up and marry rather quickly!”

“Oh, ha! What a good story,” Mrs. Bradenton said, clinking her cup into the saucer. She seemed to be in good spirits this morning and with no appearance of any back pain. “A quick romance and then an even quicker marriage! I love it!”

“With this change of plans, I don’t have to be in a rush to get back like I first thought.”

She was glad they didn’t quiz her much on her family back in Chicago. She still was of the mind that they were confusing her for someone else. Perhaps if she gave enough vague disinformation they might give her more hints to go on herself.

“Well, we love having you here, my child. And since you’re from Uncle Grayson’s side of the family, that’s even better.”

Yes, yes, Donna thought. Finally I am figuring out where I fit into the family tree!

The maids began bringing food out. A pot of oatmeal followed by a platter of bacon and scrambled eggs. Everything looked delicious and smelled heavenly. Lilly began scooping food onto each plate and then set the plates in front of Donna and her hosts.

Placing her napkin on her lap, she sprinkled some salt on her eggs.

“Good old Uncle Grayson. God bless him,” she said.

Mr. Bradenton looked at her strangely, and then picked up a piece of bacon.

“Er, Grayson is feeling alright, isn’t he? I know he had a spell of gout a few years back. I should keep in touch with him. He has a stable of wonderful horses—used to anyway.”

“Oh, Uncle’s doing fine.” Donna took a chance and thought she’d give an update. At least he’s alive she thought or they would surely have heard word to the otherwise. “He tries to stay busy with the horse sales when he’s not at the bank.”

“Remind me, which bank does he own in Chicago?” Mrs. Bradenton asked.

“Planters and Merchants Bank. It’s—er—new, actually.” Donna felt sure this misinformation couldn’t be easily checked, at least not for a while. Planters and Merchants sounded generic enough to be plausible. Anyway, if they did check it out in the near future, she might be gone for good, back to her own time. More importantly, she now knew they were trying to figure her out, discern her background and familial ties. And the vaguer they were kept, the better off she was. She continued eating and they nodded their head in acceptance of what she said. Fine. Exactly what she hoped.

“Donna, dear,” Mr. Bradenton started.

“Yes?”

“You simply must begin calling us by our first names. George and Elizabeth. Now if you don’t want to do that, at least Aunt and Uncle will suffice.”

“I’d love that! I hate being so formal, but you know, it’s better to err on the side of politeness I always think.”

“Oh, I feel so much better now!” Elizabeth said. “We are blood relatives you know. And I feel as if I’ve known you all my life anyways!”

Chapter Nine

Uncle George had told Royce earlier in the morning to clean and prepare the horses for their outing. He told Donna to go change her footwear; it was safer if she replaced those flimsy shoes she was wearing. He said to meet him outside the front door and they would walk to the stable together.

She thanked Aunt Elizabeth for the breakfast and, taking a last sip of her coffee, she headed upstairs. Aunt Elizabeth said if she didn’t have the proper boots, to let her know, either she or the maids would come up with something.

Alone in her room, she dug quickly through the trunks, hoping against hope that she would find something suitable for horseback riding. It would have been asking too much to have found a good pair of black knee high boots in the trunks. Underneath the layers of clothing she hadn’t unpacked yet, she felt something like leather under some sweaters. She pulled the item out and was pleased that it was a cordovan leather boot, short, almost like a modern Jodhpur boot. That would do the trick, but only if it fit. She removed her shoe, and pulled the boot on. Luckily for her, it didn’t lace up. It was a plain pull on style. She put the other one on and found it a bit snug but otherwise perfect. They had even been broken in and a bit scuffed, so much the better. They looked like hers she decided.

Removing her white cap, she thought she might wear some kind of appropriate head covering for a hack with her Uncle. The white cap looked more suited to the bedchamber. Now with her hair back to a normal condition, she could remove it if she wished. Nobody in this day and time wore a decent black safety helmet. However, they might very well wear a cap or scarf she decided. For formal wear they probably even wore black silk top hats! She thought back to old daguerreotype and paintings she had seen of equestrian styles and events. Finally she settled on a nice black silk scarf that would do the trick. She knotted it loosely around her neck for the time being and went downstairs.

Uncle George was in a fine mood, she hoped it was her company at breakfast that made him that way. Though her aunt was temporarily injured, she knew it could be difficult on a marriage for one of the partners to be sick. Perhaps her unexpected visit was a diversion for her Uncle. Whatever the reason, perhaps she could feel him out on this subject without appearing to be prying.

“Isn’t this wonderful weather?” Uncle George asked, his eyes scanning the fast moving clouds above.

“Yes, it’s great, and so unseasonably warm,” replied Donna. “Nothing like a normal Chicago October, that’s for sure!”

They headed up the path, towards the stable. Rex the dog decided to join them and trotted alongside.

“Tell me, dear, how you stand the Chicago winters? They are so fierce.”

“Ah, you get used to them. Actually I find them invigorating.” Donna laughed at the puzzled look on Uncle George’s face.

“Invigorating? I never heard anybody describe a Chicago winter that way!” he said. “Now I want you to tell me again what you did before the tutoring job? You may have said it earlier, but I might have been preoccupied with Beth’s back.”

“When I finished boarding school, Uncle Grayson offered me a bookkeeping job at the Planters and Merchants. My parents thought it wonderful of him, but I thought it terribly boring. So, I am afraid I wasn’t the best at keeping books. My heart lay in writing; I thought I’d try my hand at a novel.”

“How is it going?” Her Uncle looked pleased at this piece of news.

“Well enough. It’s much more fun than looking at figures and columns on paper all day. I know Uncle Grayson loves it, but it was torture to me.”

“A young woman sometimes finds it hard to be cooped up in a bank, I would imagine.”

“I loved writing. Since I was in no rush to be married, my parents told me I could pursue my passion for one year and then I should either marry well or find other employment. They said I could write in the evenings just as well.” Donna sighed. “Then the tutoring position was dumped in my lap and they were overjoyed.”

“Tutoring children is a fine occupation.”

“Yes, and I think it’s a cut above being a nanny!” They both laughed at this. Now they were at the stable door and saw Royce had one of the bay geldings hitched up to a racing buggy. Plus he had a grey mare saddled for himself. What Donna saw next jolted her. He had a third horse tacked up and ready to go—a red roan—complete with a sidesaddle!

While Uncle George patted his gelding, Royce saw the look of fear in Donna’s eyes. Unfortunately, with her Uncle close at hand, she couldn’t tell Royce that it was impossible for her to ride sidesaddle. She could ride, of course, even do elementary dressage and jumping. But sidesaddle? That was another thing altogether! Of course, some people still did it. She saw it on television during equestrian events. Women in formal wear rode this way, perfectly composed and elegant, putting their mounts through dressage moves. Yet it was the exception rather than the rule. How could she get out of this one?

“Your Uncle said to saddle up a mount for you, Donna.” Royce appeared confused at Donna’s apparent frustration. “You said you love to ride, so here we are.”

Donna stood rooted to the spot.

“Whatever is the matter? Is something wrong with the tack? It’s the same that other female guests ride with.”

Donna glanced over at her uncle; he was preoccupied with fiddling with his horse’s cheek straps and the placement of the bit in the horse’s mouth.

“I thought we were going for a buggy ride. Yes, of course I can ride! But who ever heard of riding sidesaddle?”

“Every woman rides sidesaddle! Unless, of course, you’re a farmer’s wife!” Royce shot back at her. “Why are we quibbling? This should be a simple task for you. Besides, your Uncle said you were a crackerjack rider.”

He took a long look at her. Now he realized what she was talking about. This whole scenario was strange to her! She really was from a different time!

“You have to help me,” she whispered. “I don’t have the slightest idea how to mount with this kind of saddle. If you help me, I think I can fake it. That is, as long as we don’t do anything other than walking.”

“Here, I’ll help you.” Royce’s voice was gentle. “Let’s go over to the mounting block.”

Donna was familiar with the mounting block; every stable worth its salt had one. You simply led the horse up to it, with his near side to the steps. You climbed up the two or three steps and quickly and neatly vaulted on the horse’s back. It was convenient for youngsters, older riders and even people with too tight riding pants.

“Hop up, then straddle the horse as a man would,” Royce said in a low voice. “Then hitch your skirts up and hook your right knee around the pommel.”

Donna did as he said, not wanting to draw further attention from her Uncle. This little expedition wasn’t turning out as she planned, by now she thought she’d be in a buggy with a lap robe over her legs.

The mare stood stock still until Donna got on. Flipping her skirts around, she managed to get the folds of material arranged.

“What are you staring at?” she asked Royce as he handed her the reins.

“You don’t have any riding breeches on! Just skirts and pantaloons!”

“What in thunder do you think a woman would ride in?”

“A lady wears riding breeches! On top she wraps an apron to cover everything up! If your uncle saw your underpinnings, he’d think you were daft!”

He put his hand on her thigh and casually slid it higher up her leg. With the mounting block between him and Mr. Bradenton, no one was the wiser. A smile begin to curl up Donna’s lip.

“What are you doing?” she murmured.

“Touching you. You don’t mind, do you?” He slid his hand up to the juncture of her legs. “I liked being in here yesterday. I guess I am saying I want some more of you.”

Donna began squirming under his touch. “Now you’re teasing me and I can’t do anything about it. Oh, never mind. What is the mare’s name?”

“Her name is Eden. Your secret is safe with me. Just don’t fall off.”

“Not if I can help it,” Donna said. “I’ll stand here until you mount.”

“Fine. The mare will stand firm. I trained her myself. She’s fit for any lady to ride safely.”

Royce ran his hand down Donna’s leg. He then handed her a long stiff whip topped with a scrimshaw whalebone handle in the shape of a fox head.

He mounted his grey deftly, settling into the saddle softly. Donna could tell that he was an experienced rider by the fluid way he positioned himself into the saddle. Uncle George was now getting adjusted in his seat, arranging the reins in a familiar manner. He was a man in his element, happy to be out with his horses in the country air. Royce maneuvered his horse next to Donna’s, positioning himself so her Uncle couldn’t see his face or possibly read his lips.

“We’ll stay together. The horses were raised together and won’t fuss. Your Uncle will probably want to take his bay around the track he made in the summer. We’ll let him go about it and then we can talk.”

“Won’t he expect me to go galloping around a bit?” Donna asked.

“You can just say you’re unused to the saddle or the mare. Make something up.”

“Yes, I’m getting good at that,” Donna replied wanly.

Uncle called out to them. “Let’s head out to the track, Royce! This bay feels ready to go!” His horse was pulling forward in the traces.

“Yes, sir! Right away!” To Donna, he nodded. “Let’s go. You’ll do just fine.”

The three of them headed down the lane towards a westerly meadow. Donna had not noticed the track on her walkabout, probably since it was mainly a grassy plain. At a casual glance, it was just a fallow meadow, covered with soft grasses. When they reached the outer edge, she saw an oval, beaten into the sod, probably a good half-mile. She saw that her Uncle wasn’t paying the least bit of attention to her or her mount. Uncle George turned the bay towards his track. Once he got the buggy positioned the way he wanted, he let the bay walk at his own leisurely pace in a counter clock-wise manner. Royce tilted his head at Donna to pull her mare nearer to him.

“You look lovely on Eden. Like you were born to ride sidesaddle. And your posture is perfect. No one would guess you are new to this.”

“Thank you,” Donna said. “I’m settling down a bit. I don’t want the mare to sense my fear.”

“Oh, she won’t. I raised her from birth.” He gripped his reins lightly in one hand and shielded his face from the sun with his other hand. “Your uncle will be busy for a good hour. We can go walk around the edge of the meadow.”

Donna nodded and nudged her mare behind Royce’s mount with a touch of the whip on Eden’s right flank.

The morning was crisp. The warmth and lack of rain was keeping the fields and meadows colorful and dry. Cornstalks were still brown and brittle, not black from rot. The horse’s hoof beats fell soundlessly on the leaves.

The horses were still glistening with their summer coats. The weather had slowed the growth of the heavy winter coats they would eventually carry far into the Michigan spring the next year. The tack they wore was soft and shiny with a well-kept sheen. The bits and buckles of the harness and bridles glinted softly with burnished cleanliness.

Donna felt at peace for the first time since she had arrived. Today she felt more in control of her emotions and her surroundings. Perhaps it was being back in the saddle that did it. Royce pulled his gelding to a halt so Donna could pull up next to him.

“Here, ride alongside me. Your uncle is preoccupied now and won’t notice anything.”

Donna glanced over at her uncle, now trotting the young bay slowly. He appeared to be off in another world.

Royce glanced at her and smiled. “Do you feel like attempting a trot? Eden has a smooth gait.”

“Yes, let’s try. But you lead off.”

“We’ll take it slow and easy. We should be showing your Uncle that you can actually ride sidesaddle.” With this, Royce nudged his horse into a slow trot and Donna’s followed behind. Royce was right; the mare’s trot was smooth and comfortable. She would make any rider look good. Quickly Donna fell under the spell of riding a good horse. The thrill of being outdoors on a beautiful day was uplifting also. Surprisingly, she even forgot she was riding sidesaddle. Her riding skill soon helped her adapt to the saddle. It wasn’t much different than switching horses or tack with a friend and adjusting the stirrups. With her weight balanced in the saddle, and her feet turned front wards, she felt as if she had been riding this way all her life. Royce kept his gelding at a slow trot and occasionally glanced backwards to check on Donna’s progress. When he saw that she was doing fine, he turned onto a small path and pulled his horse neatly to a stop.

“You’re doing wonderful! Are you absolutely sure you’ve never ridden this way before?”

“No, never! And I can’t believe how secure I feel. Perhaps it’s the saddle. It’s unbelievably comfortable. Like a rocking chair. And you were right—Eden’s trot is so smooth! I just love her!”

“We’ll continue riding then. I don’t think we should let the horses canter though. I know you think you’re doing fine, but I don’t want to chance it. The ground isn’t all that smooth around the edges of the field. But this side of it was.”

“Thanks for warning me. I’d hate to take a tumble,” Donna said. She turned Eden alongside Royce’s mount and reached over to lay her hand on top of his. “This means so much to me…”

she paused.

“You don’t have to thank me. I love doing it. Has anyone ever told you how beautiful you look in the morning sunshine?” He leaned precariously out of his saddle to plant a kiss on her lips.

“I…never…no not really.” Unexpectedly she felt shy and awkward. “Thank you for the compliment.”

“A man would be proud to have you for a lady friend. Here, I can see I’ve embarrassed you. I didn’t mean to.” He urged his horse back out to the edge of the field. “Follow me. We need to keep moving.”

“Yes, of course.” Donna was glad for the break. She did enjoy that Royce saw her in that light. Her mare followed his horse again.

“Pull up alongside me. There’s plenty of space here,” Royce said. “We haven’t had much time to talk, have we?”

“No, not alone,” Donna said. “Yet I feel as if I know you. Perhaps I am too trusting of people.” She laughed. “Listen to me. We’ve already made love.”

“I hope I would be the type of man you would trust, Donna—both in bed and out.”

“Yes, you are. I need to tell you something. Tonight, Royce, I would like to travel to my time in the future. I think I may have figured out a way to do it.” She waited while he appeared to mull over her offer.

“I don’t know. Do you think it will really work?”

“Why shouldn’t it? You see me here now in your time. Why couldn’t I reverse the events of the evening last week? Wear the same clothes, the same jewelry. I think it has something to do with the silver pin.” She touched the brooch she wore at her throat. Since she thought it was a vital link to the time travel, she hadn’t let it out of her sight.

“All right. I’ll watch you. One part of me wants to try the travel with you and the other part wants to stay here. I feel comfortable in my own time you see.” He smiled as they resumed their walk around the field. “Do you know anybody who’s done this in the past?”

“No, I’m afraid I’m the first! I think you should at least be there since you were at the receiving end, so to speak, when I arrived here.”

“You forgot one thing.”

“What’s that?” Donna asked.

“Where are we attempting this fling through time?”

“Oh that! I’ve given it serious thought. I think we should do it in the tack room.”

“Why in that dusty place?” Royce asked.

“Because it will recreate everything as closely as possible,” Donna said. “I plan to wear the same outfit as the night you found me on the floor.”

“Do you think I should do the same?”

“It wouldn’t hurt. I think it has something to do with my blood letting—where I accidentally pricked my finger. I’ve fainted before at the sight of blood, but it was nothing like this. Everything faded to grey. I guess that is the best way to describe it.”

“Count me in, Donna. I’ll be on hand to help you tonight.”

“Fine. I’ll sneak out of the house after sunset. I know the path well enough to walk it alone. It should be dark by eight o’clock.”

Chapter Ten

With the Brandentons occupied with some drop-in company, Donna had time to prepare. She bundled up her traveling outfit and stuffed it into a black drawstring bag she found in the washing area. There was nothing else she needed to get ready, except her presence in the tack room. She tried to approximate the time she first traveled backwards in time and thought she would gauge it as close to that as possible. Since she had no instructions, she thought she would just wing it and see what happened. A fleeting thought that she might end up somewhere else in time nagged her a bit, but she pushed that thought out of her mind. She needed to get back to Chicago, to her life and her job. Stashing the bag behind one of her trunks, she went back downstairs to read before the firelight.

She watched to see when the maids left for the night. That took place about six o’clock. With them out of the way, she could plead weariness and go to bed early. No one would think anything odd of that. After all, she had been out horseback riding for most of the morning!

Annabelle and Rose had been incessantly chattering on and off all day about an upcoming barn dance and hayride next week. It was fun to listen to them go on about their outfits they planned to wear and what ribbons they planned to use in their hair. They were no different than young women in modern day Chicago, she thought.

Finally after a light supper, she bid Mr. and Mrs. Brandenton good-night and headed upstairs. She even took some books with her, pretending she would read them in her room by lamplight. When most of the household noises had quieted down, she tiptoed down the stairs with her bag and made for the back door. It wasn’t too difficult to be stealthy. The kitchen was quiet and the cooking fire in the stove was burnt down to a few embers.

Fearing the door might creak when she opened it, Donna prepared herself to open the heavy latch slowly. It was a pleasant surprise when she found it wasn’t even locked at all!

People probably don’t fear robbers like they do in my day.

She nudged the door with her toe and, when nothing squeaked, she pushed it farther. Even though she knew she wouldn’t be returning, she still shut it carefully behind her. Walking gingerly, she located the path to the stable. Suddenly, something cold and wet touched her hand and she jumped. It was nothing but Rex. Lilly said he usually slept in the cow shed, but he must have been patrolling his property. Just as well, he could walk with her. With Rex’s shaggy tail curled into the air, Donna found she had a rather bright guide to follow on the path. Within minutes they reached the stable. As they approached, she saw a golden glow coming out of Royce’s cottage windows. Soundlessly, the stable door opened onto the semi-dark tack room. Royce had a small oil lamp lit on the floor.

“I didn’t want to make too much light, yet I wanted a bit to show you that I was here. That way you wouldn’t be scared if I appeared out of the darkness,” he said.

“Good thinking. And old Rex led the way for me on the path with his white tail.” Donna patted the dog on the head. “Royce, please prepare the room just like it was the night you found me. Down to the last detail, every bucket and sponge as best as you remember it.”

“All right. That’s shouldn’t be too hard. There’s not that much stuff in here,” Royce said.

“I don’t know if it will matter or not but I figure it can’t hurt. While you do that, I’ll change my clothes.”

She took her bundle around the corner and turned her back to Royce. Soon, she was done and turned back to him.

“Do you think I look exactly like I did last week?”

Royce walked up to her and turned her hat around.

“The feather was on the left side, not the right. I guess you’re not used to wearing hats.” He said. “What about your brooch?”

“I’ll prick my finger after I get up in the saddle on the cleaning rack.”

“You won’t lose it?” Royce asked.

“Immediately after I do that, I’ll stuff it deep into my jacket pocket.” Donna finished buttoning up her jacket and then swung her leg over the saddle. “I guess I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.”

“Wait, don’t go yet. I have to check on something in my cottage. Here, I’ll take your clothing with me to keep. As a remembrance of our time together. Plus no one will come upon it here and think you met with a bad end.”

“Alright.” Donna felt fidgety and wished Royce hadn’t stalled her departure. She fiddled with the stirrup straps until he returned.

With a pat on the leg from Royce, she positioned herself in the saddle. Settling herself squarely, she unfastened the end of the brooch from the clasp.

Just then Royce spoke.

“Donna, are you sure you want to go back?”

“Of course! My family and friends are there. And my job also. I can’t stay here.”

“I’ll miss you,” he said.

“Miss me?” she said, now quavering in her decision.

“Yes, miss you. I was hoping you would like this time. That you would stay. Perhaps I didn’t make myself clear enough on my feelings toward you.” He stepped forward.

“Royce, I…can’t say this isn’t sudden. But I think I have feelings for you also. I just don’t know how to make this work. Or even if we should attempt to make it work. I can’t stay with you here, can I? And I can’t live in two worlds, either.” She felt a bit nauseated at what she was about to do. And she felt heartsick if she was to cause Royce pain in any way. She leaned forward to adjust her weight in the saddle. Suddenly, she felt uncomfortable perched up high on the cleaning stand.

“Donna, please,” Royce began. “You don’t know what a happiness you have brought to me in this short time.”

Donna put her hand forward in a signal to stop his speech, if she could.

“No, don’t say it. You have to stay here and I have to go. That’s just how it will be.” She gripped the brooch tightly in her right hand. This sudden imperceptible shift in her weight caused her to slip just a half inch or so. Enough to throw off her balance on the slippery leather. “You’ll find someone else. I just know it. And…”

She began sliding off the saddle.

Royce jumped forward and attempted to grab her, to stop her fall onto the hard floor. Her long skirt started to wrap itself around her legs and get twisted up.

“Donna, be careful!”

He threw out his hands to catch her and with her forward lurch, she jabbed the open sharp end of the brooch into the palm of her right hand. She stared at it stupidly as a spot of blood quickly began forming.

“Royce, what have I done?” She could feel a cold chill pass through her body. Royce hugged her tightly, supporting her off-kilter balance. “Donna, I don’t want you to leave me. Please, perhaps this whole thing with the brooch is foolishness and nothing will…”

He paused, looking at her face as her eyes began to roll back in her head. She started shivering and shaking uncontrollably.

The last thing Donna remembered was the pin pricking her skin. It seemed that Royce grabbed her, but she couldn’t be sure. Everything seemed to turn to a grey, cold mist. She felt something happen when the pin prick brought blood to the surface of her palm. Perhaps a chemical mixture of the silver and an element in her blood? She wasn’t sure and her mind was too cloudy to understand or comprehend anything. She did know Royce’s arms felt strong around her and this made her feel safe. No matter where she ended up, she would be fine with him. She just didn’t want to drag him into this time travel thing with her.

Royce held Donna tightly. He tried to pry the brooch from her hand so she wouldn’t puncture herself any deeper than she already had. It was impossible. Her hand clutched the pin firmly. He could tell she was out of it, both mentally and physically. He pressed his cheek to her cold one. He felt a spinning sensation himself, as if he was addled. He shut his eyes to steady himself. The next thing he knew, everything around him faded to grey.

With a shudder, they both awoke at the same instant on the floor of the tack room. The oil lamp was nowhere to be seen and they were in semi-darkness. Pushing himself up on his elbows, Royce looked around.

“Donna, are you alright?” he spoke to her outline sitting on the floor.

“Yes, I’m fine. I think. And you…you traveled with me? How was that? I thought only I would travel through time.”

“I had to grab you. You started falling off the saddle stand. And the next thing you were shaking like you had the ague or malaria.” He caught his breath. “Have we really traveled into the future?”

“I hope so!” Donna rubbed her eyes.

“Did you see what I saw? We traveled through some kind of snakelike tunnel when I grabbed you.”

“I saw it too. It was a little bit different than the first time I passed through. It bent and flexed this time.”

“Forgive me. How is your hand? The blood on your palm?” He took her by the wrist.

“I don’t know. I can’t see too well. But I feel wetness, so it must be blood.” She was glad she couldn’t see it anyway.

Royce stood and pulled her gently to her feet. “Do you still have the brooch? Remember you were going to try to put it in your jacket pocket.” He felt an urgency to recover the jewelry just in case it was needed again.

“Let me see. Yes, here it is. I’ve still got it.” Donna slipped the catch together and placed it back into her pocket. She patted it firmly as if to prove it was deep and safe.

“What do we do now?

“Let me think. We need light. I had a flashlight the night I left.”

Royce wondered what a flashlight was, but Donna seemed to feel that might help them see.

“Feel around for it on the window ledge while I get my clothes.”

“What does it look like?”

“I forgot you didn’t know. It’s, um, a silver tube with glass at the end. It’s got a button that turns it on.”

“Sort of like a spy glass?” Royce felt his way to the window and fumbled until he felt something cold and metallic. He guessed that must be the flashlight. There was a bump on one side; that must be the button. It didn’t feel like a shirt button, though. He pressed it but nothing happened. “I have it.”

“Good, shine some light over my way.”

Royce continued to press the button.

“You have to slide the button up with your thumb,” Donna said.

Now Royce was looking at the fat end of the flashlight when he slid the button. A white blaze of light blinded him and he hurriedly turned it away from his face.

“Blazes! I’m blind in my good eye!” He heard Donna laughing. “That’s not funny! This is a horrible device.”

“I can see now you’ve got the hang of it.” Donna watched as Royce waved the light around and around the room, trying to illuminate every object in there.

“You’re playing with it. I was afraid for a minute that the batteries were dead when it didn’t come on.”

“What are batteries?” Royce asked.

“Remember the chemicals I told you women dye their hair with? Sort of like that.”

“Right. I can see you now. What are we doing next? Going to Chicago?”

“We could, but that’s ninety miles away. I hate to drive in the dark.”

“We could go to my cottage until daylight,” Royce said.

“It’s not there anymore. At least I don’t think it is. It was torn down years ago. Let me think.”

“What about the Bradenton house?”

“That’s plausible, but there’s no electric or heat. I think it best that we go to the Holtzclaws. We could have food and shelter until tomorrow. Let’s go outside and see if my Cadillac is still there.”

Royce didn’t have a clue what a Cadillac was, but he was eagerly anticipating seeing it. It was probably a type of wagon or buggy.

They opened the tack room door and Donna focused the flashlight onto a huge metal box. It was the biggest blue box that Royce had ever seen. It had glass windows in it, two on each side and one in the back. The one in the front was very big. Really, it was more like a low small hay wagon. He walked around it in amazement. He ran his fingers over the outside and thought how smooth it was, almost slippery. When he got to the passenger door, he felt a crack in the metal. A hinge. So that was how you got inside, through the doors. There were knobs or handles on the doors. He wasn’t sure how to open them, he would wait until Donna unlatched one first. He saw it had rubber wheels, huge, black and thick. Inside each of the wheels was a metal cover that reminded him of a large platter. There were no wooden spokes. Perhaps the spokes were under the metal plates. He guessed that more things in the future were made out of metal. He watched Donna coming out of the building with her bundle of clothes. She nonchalantly walked up to her box on wheels and dug her fingers into the side and pulled upwards. Suddenly, the inside of the metal wagon was flooded with a golden light and some sort of church bells began pealing.

“Here, I forgot this is strange to you.” She walked around to the passenger side of the vehicle and opened his door. She waved her hand for him to get in.

Royce did as she wished, sinking into the soft leather seat. Before he knew it, she had closed the door on him. He felt a twinge of fear; perhaps this was really a large metal coffin. But he steeled his nerves for what was ahead. Bravely, he looked out the window and at all the dials and strange gadgets on the dashboard.

Donna got back in and twisted a knob on the handle. With a roar, the engine started. Royce shoved his legs forward in fear. What was next? Strange music came out of a black slot on the dash. He turned to Donna to watch the expression on her face. She seemed calm.

“It’ll take a minute or two to warm up. It’s good we’re dressed warm.”

“Yes, it’s good we did. What is this conveyance?”

“This is a horseless carriage. An automobile. We just shorten it and call it a car.”

“Horseless carriage. Amazing,” Royce said. “What makes it run? Chemicals?” Other things seemed to work off these chemicals Donna talked about, so perhaps this car did also.

“Cars run off a fossil fuel called gasoline. Man figured out how to harness the power of horses and put it under the hood.”

“How fast can this go?” Royce asked.

“Very fast,” Donna said. “Faster than the fastest race horse. We’ll just go slowly since we’re traveling to the Holtzclaws. But tomorrow when we go to Chicago, we’ll open it up on the freeway.”

Royce felt a thrill at these words. He loved to ride a good fast horse at a gallop across fields. He watched Donna pulling a knob on the dashboard in front of her and powerful shafts of light illuminated the stand of pear trees where his cottage had previously stood! Two beams of some kind of light split the darkness! While he was studying this phenomenon, Donna flicked a stick on the wheel and the lights got even brighter!

She pulled down on a thick stick with a knob that was between the seats and they began rolling forward. He was a bit frightened, but he had ridden in many a carriage that a woman drove. He hunched on the edge of the seat, closer to the big curved glass, but he settled back into the leathery softness and rested his arm on a convenient padded ledge on the side of the door. As they pulled out onto the lane, a warm poof of air flitted across his face. He didn’t know how the car generated heat; surely there wasn’t fire in the front or hot coals? He moved his hands up to the black slits to warm them.

“Feel good?” Donna asked.

“Yes, wonderful. The warmth is comforting,” he said. “Now my rump is even warming!” He palmed the seat to feel warmth emanating out of it. “The undercarriage isn’t on fire is it?”

Donna laughed. “This car has heated seats also. They’re wonderful in Chicago winters.”

“I can see that. I suppose much better than a wool blanket thrown over your cold legs.” Royce said. His bum was certainly enjoying the heat. “It smells heavenly in here. Like Lilly’s cookies or cakes baking.”

“It’s the vanilla air freshener.” Donna nodded to a little piece of paper dangling from a mirror.

Royce reached up to take it and sniff it. It was so fragrant he could almost imagine eating a chunk out of it. He sighed. It was all he could do not to.

“Does this car travel well in the snow also?”

“Of course! Just so long as it’s not too deep. I’ve got good quality snow tires on it.”

Royce thought that must be quite a sight to see, this huge metal box thundering across snow and ice. He secretly wished that would happen while he was here with Donna in the future.

“What year is it?” he asked her.

“I believe it’s the same as when I left—2010.”

Royce whistled through his teeth. Two thousand and ten. Imagine that! Never did he think he would see the future, unless he lived to a ripe old age of fifty or so. He looked at Donna, fearlessly turning the wheel as they approached the stage road. Except now it had a large red sign that her lights glared on. STOP! it said. She obediently stopped, even though there was no one around and her lights seemed to shine a far piece. She neatly turned the wheel and continued driving. Only this time, the rubber tires rolled smoothly. Royce peered out of the curved glass to see what the surface was on the road.

It was perfectly flat and grayish-black. Someone had neatly painted a nice white stripe down the center. Who on earth would have done that? It appeared the same person had painted white stripes on the side of the road also. As he stared out of the side windows at the stripes, suddenly he was startled by a loud roar and a blast from a horn that came quickly behind them. Shoving himself far into the right side of his door, Royce stared out of Donna’s driver’s side window. A huge vehicle, as big as a barn, overcame them and thundered past in the darkness. Dozens of colored lights glowed along its sides and top. Though he had thought the tires on Donna’s car large, this vehicle had even bigger tires! And there were more of them! So many he could not count as it sped on ahead.

“Darn semi-trailers! They think they own the road!” Donna steadied the wheel as their car shook a bit.

“What…what was that? It roared past us as loud as Mister Bradenton’s bull!” Royce’s eyes were wide with fear.

“Just a truck.”

“A truck! What is inside it?”

“It could be anything and nothing. It could have delivered its load and is heading back to a distribution center. It could be full of vegetables, or hanging meat. It could have clothing in there, or furniture. Just whatever a person wants to transport across the country.”

Royce pondered what she said. The truck was so large; he thought it could hold the harvest of three or four huge fields, all by itself.

As they neared the turnoff for the Holtzclaw’s road, Donna once again flipped a stick on the side of the steering wheel. This time, a green diagram blinked on the dashboard and chiming began. Royce thought it looked like an Indian arrowhead pointing to the left. They pulled into the Holtzclaw’s driveway and Royce noticed many cars of differing shapes parked randomly around the yard. He would have liked to have looked into all of them, but thought he would let Donna take the lead in this adventure. After all, this was her time. Donna pulled up next to a large white vehicle, not exactly shaped like her car. It was boxier and much higher off the ground. The tires were huge.

“That’s the Schroeder’s new SUV. Isn’t it beautiful?” Donna saw Royce looking the vehicle over.

“Yes, it’s wonderful. What’s an ess-you-vee?”

“Sport utility vehicle,” Donna said.

“Sports—now that’s something I can understand. And utility also. So this vehicle is for sports and working also?”

“In a sense, yes.”

They sat silently in the car. Occasionally figures could be seen passing in front of lit windows. One time someone came out on the porch. Royce saw the glow of his cigar or cigarette from where he was sitting. He smoked leisurely, then before snubbing out the butt, glanced over at Donna’s car.

“Donna?” Royce asked.

“Yes?”

“We need to go in before someone gets suspicious. I know you’re stalling.”

“Um, you do?” Donna drummed her fingers on the wheel.

“You’re trying to think how to introduce me, aren’t you?”

“Yes I am. Are you nervous?”

“Yes, a little bit. I am just wondering how people are here…in the future.”

“Basically the same as they’ve always been. They work, they love, they eat, and they fight.”

Donna smiled at the thought of how little mankind had changed in less than two hundred years. She smiled at Royce. “Let’s go in. We’ll give it our best shot.”

Royce jumped when Donna touched a button and he heard a loud snap from the side of his door.

“Sorry. Electric door locks.”

Royce didn’t know what electric was and he saw no padlock on the door either. Shrugging, he sat still, unsure how to get out of the car.

“Reach for the handle and pull it towards you.”

Royce reached for the only thing that could have been the handle and pulled it. The door opened a bit. He pushed it further with his elbow and jumped out. Though he enjoyed the ride, he had to admit it was a bit claustrophobic.

He and Donna walked up to the house together. When he reached up to knock Donna put her hand on top of his.

“Be yourself. I don’t think anybody will notice you’re different.”

“Right-oh,” Royce said, smiling. “I am starting to look forward to this.”

Chapter Eleven

Georgina Holtzclaw opened the door with a laugh. Royce found himself being greeted by a busty teenage tiger, complete with whiskers and tail, holding an orange candy bucket.

“Hello! Who might you be?” she said, seductively popping a sucker in and out of her mouth. Then, seeing Donna behind Royce’s shoulder, her eyes lit up. “Ms Bradenton! I wondered what happened to you!”

Donna, startled, didn’t know quite what to say. Sometimes saying nothing will get you time to recoup. She figured Georgina would be momentarily startled by the presence of Royce, her apparent date. She was correct. And bringing an unannounced date was not her style either. She had been prompt to answer the party invitation RSVP very clearly, that only she would attend.

Royce smiled at Georgina. She was a comely lass; buxom in orange stripes and fair haired. Her eyes twinkled behind her black mask. Curling wiry whiskers tickled her cheeks, curving down to touching full pouting lips. He got the impression that she was desperate to act older than her age, which he figured to be around fourteen. Deciding to subtly ignore her, he noticed delicious smells emanating out of the house. Some were heavy and yeasty, as if someone had been baking bread. There were underlying spicy scents. A citrus fragrance floated through the air, light and tantalizing. He wondered where it came from. He remembered that it had been a long time since his last meal and his mouth began watering.

Donna slipped her hands around his waist, surprising him.

“Hi, Georgina! I want you to meet Royce,” Donna said. Her hands clasped together in front of his shirt.

Royce, surprised by her public display of affection, involuntarily tightened his stomach muscles. What was she up to? And why was she acting in this bold manner?

“Pleased to meet you, Royce.” Georgina slowly and gently offered her gloved hand. Royce shook it in the same manner, half expecting a little palm tickling from the girl, but she wasn’t that brave yet. She was still treading the line between child and woman and neither was quite a comfortable fit to her.

Donna released her grip on him and took him by the hand. She led him through the door. He thought Georgina was standing a bit too close deliberately, so he would have to squeeze by her. He didn’t think he was mistaken. He had other things to occupy him now. He couldn’t be bothered by a flirtatious teenager.

The room was lit with candles and mysterious glowing glass globes hanging from the ceiling. He would have liked to have examined them, but something felt strange underfoot. It was the flooring, grass colored, but soft as wool. It was so dense he could feel his feet sinking into it like summer moss along the banks of the Saint Joe River.

“How do you like our new wall-to-wall, Donna?” Georgina asked.

“Lovely!” Donna said.

While Royce would have liked to figure out what the wall-to-wall was, besides the mysterious glowing globes, he hoped they would eat soon. He hoped Donna felt the same way he did.

“Please, we’ve already set out the buffet table and everyone’s helped themselves. Before we start the parlor games and foolishness, fix yourself a plate,” Georgina said. Royce breathed a sigh of relief. Some food and drink would surely help out his growling stomach. While Donna thanked Georgina, he examined the room some more. The glowing globes certainly lit the place up, more so than candles and oil lamps he was used to. When Georgina finally wiggled away to talk to other guests, Donna took Royce’s hand and led him to the heavily laden table.

White plates and white cups were arranged in a neat pattern, with clear forks and knives alongside them. Napkins were printed with Jack o’ lanterns. Donna picked up a plate and eating utensils and nodded to Royce to do the same.

“Get yourself a paper plate,” she said.

A paper plate? How on earth could an eating plate be made out of paper? Royce wondered. He did as she said. He fingered the plate and was amazed at the dryness and density of it. Thumping the bottom, he had to admit it appeared sturdy enough to hold food. It was much thicker than a card from any deck of cards he had played with. He took up a fork and knife. They were light as a feather! He held one up to the light and looked at it.

“Is there something wrong with your fork?” Donna asked. “If it is, just throw it away and get another one.”

Throw away a fork? Who would do that? Forks were meant to be washed and reused. This is certainly a strange place already.

He took a yeast roll and thought it looked good, though it was exactly the same shape as about a dozen or so others in the basket. Exactly the same shape. Perhaps they were cut out with a metal biscuit cutter. He would have to tell Lilly about this when he got back. He imagined he would have quite a bit to tell her. He continued to follow Donna as she made food selections. He spotted a large clove-studded ham. He loved a good smokehouse ham. The silver platter was full of slices, ruddy red and shiny. There was a gravy boat filled with a raisin sauce. He watched as Donna took a slice and copied her, though he took three, they were sliced so thin. He would have liked to compliment the cook, every slice was uniform and paper thin. They must have used an extremely sharp knife. And it was not cut wholly away from the bone; it spiraled around. A small bowl to the side held mustard, so he took a dollop of that also. All the food looked so good; he took a dab of everything. Cranberries, potato salad, and cabbage with some sort of white dressing and little seeds soon filled his plate to overflowing. He and Donna went and sat on the side of the room, at a small wooden table. Unnoticed by other merry-makers, they began eating.

“Donna, about this food…” his voice trailed off as he cut the ham with the mysterious clear knife.

“Yes, isn’t it good?” she replied.

“Food is food, past or present. Some of the things are oddly shaped, others just as I am used to. Other than that, everything tastes delicious.”

“Leave some room for dessert,” Donna told him. “I’m sure they have cakes and pies in the kitchen.”

Royce buttered his roll and took a bite. It was soft and steamy inside, one of the best he’d ever eaten.

“Do you think we blend in?” Donna asked.

“Of course! This is a Halloween party and the other guests are wearing costumes. So I am not really sure what the clothing of the future looks like yet,” Royce said. “What do men and women wear?”

“Let’s see. Women wear pants a lot now. Men still wear suits and ties.”

“Really? Women wear pants now—and not just for horseback riding? How odd.”

“Another thing. Men don’t wear hats as much as they used to for some reason. Really we should; then we wouldn’t catch head colds so often,” Donna said.

“How about children?”

“A lot of children’s clothing stayed about the same. Infants are still dressed in baby clothing. Oh! One thing you’d find interesting is that they can wear paper diapers!” Donna said.

“Paper! Doesn’t that scratch? And they would be so expensive, wouldn’t they? Don’t they have leaks?” Royce was curious about this oddity. First the paper plates, now paper diapers. Most of the paper he had seen was at the dry goods store to wrap purchases in or letters ladies used to write with. Of course there were newspapers and magazines. At least they found a second use in the outhouse. He puzzled over wrapping a baby’s bottom in brown paper from the merchants around St. Joe.

“They have plastic liners. It’s all very neat nowadays. But babies still drink from bottles and burp and cut teeth. So those things stayed the same.”

“Thank heavens,” Royce said. “What is plastic?”

“I’ll tell you later. It’s been around so long I take it for granted. Old people can wear diapers too,” Donna said as an afterthought.

“Old people?”

“Yes, people are living longer, but not necessarily better. Science has lengthened our lives tremendously, but we still age.”

“That’s sad.”

“Yes it is. But here’s another thing. Perhaps I shouldn’t shock you with this.”

“Go ahead. So far, I’ve had a lot of shocks to my system.”

“They can actually transplant whole organs into people now. Like hearts, kidneys, and lungs.”

“What? Are you being foolish?”

“No, we’ll discuss that later.”

“Please—let me ask you about those glass globes and how they illuminate the room. How do they work?” Royce stared at the one closest to where he was sitting.

“You run them with electricity – another modern marvel.”

“Yes, they certainly are a mystery to me. I keep wondering how they don’t set the walls and drapes on fire.”

“I guess they would be pretty amazing to you,” Donna said. “Now that I think of it, electricity and indoor plumbing are the best things about living here and now.”

“Indoor plumbing?” Royce looked at her askance.

“We won’t have to use the outhouse or chamber pot. We have toilets and baths and hot and cold running water right inside every building. I’ll show you before we leave.”

“So we are leaving after all?” Royce asked.

“Yes, I feel refreshed now after the food and have settled down a bit mentally. And I don’t feel quite right about asking Mrs. Holtzclaw to put us up for the night. I think I should prepare you for some more facts of modern life. She might question some of your actions, if you know what I mean?”

All right. I can’t wait!” Royce looked overjoyed. “I’ve been meaning to tell you I need to use the facilities.”

Soon with their stomachs full, they realized how long a day theirs had been. Donna went and got some coffee from the kitchen and watched while Royce treated himself to Michigan cherry pie and homemade ice cream. She sensed that he was weary.

“Royce, what do you say we bid our goodnights and hit the road to Chicago?” Donna said.

“I would be glad to see a good soft bed, Donna,” Royce said, wiping his fork against the side of his paper plate. “What do we do with our plates and cutlery?”

“Just toss everything in that trash can next to the kitchen door.” Donna was bemused to see Royce’s face. “You don’t know quite what to make of the place, do you?”

“Throw away our forks and plates? I can see how the paper would be difficult to wash. My cherry pie has seeped into the very fabric of it. But the fork also? Couldn’t it be saved?”

“No, nowadays some things are more sanitary to use one time and throw away. You’ll see more of these soon.” She took his plate for him and tossed it in the trash. “I’ll say our goodbyes to Mrs. Holtzclaw and say you’re very weary. She’ll understand. Why don’t you head out to the car?”

Royce stood and thought he would be glad to see this day end. So many questions filled his head; it was almost too much to sift through all the sights and sounds he had experienced in the last eight hours. More oddities probably lay ahead in Chicago.

* * * *

Donna engaged cruise control and settled back, enjoying some of the sights of her trip. The strong coffee she had at the end of the party had invigorated her senses. Plus she had Mrs. Holtzclaw’s maid fill a thermos for her if she needed it for her trip back to Chicago. Royce was sound asleep in the back, covered with a blanket she had borrowed from Mrs. Holtzclaw. She could tell he was getting worn down at the party, though it would have killed his ego to have admitted it to her. She also knew his eyesight got worse at dusk and she didn’t want to prolong his discomfort any more than she had to. Glancing at him in the rear-view mirror, she saw that his head was comfortably resting on a pillow and she was pretty sure nothing would have awakened him.

The ninety minute trip gave her time to think.

It was fun showing Royce the bathroom before they left. She led him down the hall and into the guest bath at the Holtzclaw’s. They had left a nightlight burning and they also had lit scented pumpkin candles in the room so that it wasn’t in complete darkness. The look on his face was priceless. Quickly, so not to arouse suspicion, she showed him how the toilet worked and the taps on the sink. She left him to his own devices to go back to the living room. He returned a few minutes later, looking at his hands.

“Donna, the washroom was marvelous! I can see how you missed a place as sumptuous as that living in my time!” He rubbed his hands together. “Soft white paper in little rolls instead of magazines, sweet smelling soap as I’ve never smelled in my life, and towels as fluffy as a cloud!

I can only imagine what it would be to run a tub of hot water in that huge tub!”

They laughed about it before they left like two conspirators.

Watching mile markers pass, she suddenly felt guilty for what she had gotten Royce into. Was she selfish in returning to her time? What about his fears and uncertainties? He wanted her to fix his cataract and perhaps his hip if it was at all possible. Would she be able to do it? What if the surgeries were only marginally successful, or at worse, failed altogether? How would she explain his lack of identity, and the absence of a Social Security number? He could be stuck in her present time in worse shape than he was before. At least when she was in 1865, she knew what was going on at that time, plus what the future held. He didn’t know that. She hoped she was doing the right thing. She didn’t even want to think of the possibilities of future time travel—

travel that would be necessary to return Royce to his own time.

Soon, the lights of the Chicago skyline glowed in the distance. Gold of course for the wealthy Gold Coast, Wacker Drive, Lakeshore Drive, and the inimitable downtown skyscrapers, which never failed to take her breath away.

Traffic was light for that time of night. Donna was lost in her thoughts and truthfully had enjoyed the trip in silence. She disengaged the cruise control as she got into the downtown. The car’s system was so wonderfully synchronized; she never even noticed the slight drop in speed. Royce probably would have enjoyed the cityscapes in the nighttime glow, but she didn’t want to wake him just to look at concrete and steel. Not just yet. There would be plenty of time for that tomorrow.

Pulling into her connecting parking garage, she took her gate card out to raise the bar. Royce was beginning to stir. As she pulled her car into her spot, she turned on the CD player so he would awaken to some music.

“Are we here, Donna?”

“Yes, we’re in Chicago and you slept the entire trip, Royce.” Donna smiled at the thought of how comfortable he probably was.

“I was dreaming strange dreams of being on a boat on Lake Michigan. There were fish in the water and gentle waves lapping. I was so happy in the dream.” Royce laughed. “Maybe it was something I ate tonight.”

Turning off the ignition, Donna slumped for a second and sighed. The days’ events were catching up to her now and she felt dogged out. “Yes, perhaps it was. Now, my time traveling friend, let’s go to my apartment. We’ll have time to talk and plan tomorrow.”

She saw Royce sit up in the back seat and glance around.

“Where are we, Donna? What is this huge building? Is it a barn for your car?”

Snapping the door locks, Donna took a quick glance through the windows.

“It’s a parking garage. Keep your wits about you, this is the big city.” Leaving her car always put her on guard. You couldn’t live in a metropolis without becoming jaded and wary over time. Royce clambered out of the back seat, stretching his arms and legs.

“Don’t fret. Big cities have always had an element of danger. But I’m with you tonight, Donna. You have nothing to fear.”

The walk to Donna’s apartment was short. That was one reason she preferred where she lived; she could reach her car quickly. Usually, she was skittish if she came home late, but tonight she had a male escort. Even at midnight, traffic still moved and police sirens screeched their warnings. Something was always happening in the ‘City of Big Shoulders’ and it wasn’t always pretty.

“I live on the twentieth floor,” she told Royce, studying his expression at the sheer height of her building. Dried leaves and bits of trash blew around their ankles as they stood in the entranceway.

“Twenty?” He craned his neck. “I’ve never been higher than three floors. How will we get up there?”

“You’ll see. It’s another miracle—sort of a metal box that goes up and down.”

They walked into the lobby, past the security desk. Donna nodded at the armed guard.

“It appears you have quite a bit of crime. This place is armed with a guard, like a bank in the old west!” Royce exclaimed.

“It’s like you said, Royce, this is a big city. Many people are armed and dangerous. One can’t be careful enough.”

“Understood. Now, where is the staircase? I guess we’d better get going if we have twenty flights to climb! I’m sure we’ll be winded when we get there.” Royce looked around for a stairway.

“Royce,” Donna said gently. “We’ve got something I think you’ll really like. It’s called an elevator.” She led him to the shining brass doors.

“Elevator? Oh, I’ve heard of them but never gotten to use one yet. I guess today is my chance.” Royce touched the glowing buttons gently.

“Go ahead, push the up arrow.”

Royce did as she said and jumped back a bit when the amber button suddenly glowed. They heard the sound of cables grinding and the whooshing of air.

In a few seconds, the bell chimed and the doors opened. Donna tried to put herself in Royce’s shoes, thinking how she would have felt as a child, riding an elevator for the first time. But too many years had passed and when you are used to modern conveniences you take them for granted. She sighed and wondered how his first trip would be.

Royce stood stock still, startled at the doors opening and an empty conveyance now yawning in front of them.

“Do you trust this to deliver us to your apartment, Donna?”

“Yes, I ride it daily. I can’t imagine life without it.”

“And it goes up and down? Alright, if you say it’s safe, I’ll trust your judgment.” Gingerly, he stepped in, tentatively testing the floor to see if it gave any under his weight. Satisfied, he stepped all the way in and faced the wall.

Donna entered after him, laughing. “Turn around, Royce. Riders always face the door.”

“Why?” he said, doing an about face.

“To tell you the truth, I don’t know. I guess so we are ready to hop out when we arrive at our floor—and perhaps to make room for other people if they get on. It might look funny or rude to them if they got in and saw our backs.”

“Oh.” He seemed satisfied with her answer.

The doors shut with a hissing sound and they remained still.

“You might want to hang onto the rails.”

Gripping them mightily, Royce braced himself. “This can’t be much worse than a fishing boat on the lake during a storm.”

“No, not much more than that. And it won’t rock back and forth.”

Before she pushed the button for the twentieth floor, she said one last thing.

“You might want to flex your knees, this is an express elevator.”

When the door opened on the twentieth floor, a wild eyed Royce jumped out. “I’m sorry, Donna. This will take some getting used to.” He held onto the wall unsteadily, catching his breath.

Donna put her arm around his waist to steady him.

“There, there. It’ll pass in a minute. Here, let me get the door unlocked and get you inside.”

She fumbled for her keys. Shoving the door open, motion sensitive lights automatically came on. Royce just nodded and headed for her couch. “I need to calm my nerves a second.”

Donna tossed her purse on the coffee table and sat next to him.

“I understand. There are some things that you will have to experience. I can tell you about them, but it’ll be better if you see or feel them yourself.”

Royce shut his eyes and leaned back. “I didn’t know the future could be so extraordinary.”

“I’ll help you through it, Royce. With me to explain, it’ll be easier for you.”

“If you don’t mind, Donna, I want to go to bed now.”

“Would you like to wash up first?” Donna was slipping off her coat.

“No, it can wait until tomorrow morning. Perhaps you could get me a shaving brush and cream and a good straight razor? I need to clean up. A comb would help, too.” He ran his fingers through his long hair.

“Yes, of course. I may have some of those toiletries here from past house guests.”

She left him, thankful she always kept robes and a few essential male grooming supplies for past boyfriends. After she rummaged through the dresser in the guest bedroom, she took an armful of what she thought he might need. As she rounded the corner in the hallway, she saw him sprawled out on the couch, head tucked into a pillow, sound asleep. Smiling, she tiptoed over to where he slept, but it wasn’t necessary. He was dead to the world. She gently pulled off his boots and he didn’t flinch. She placed a throw over him, tucking it in at his ankles. She would have liked to have him sleep in her bed with her, but it wasn’t to be. At least, not tonight.

Chapter Twelve

Donna awoke around nine the next morning. It was restful to just lie still in the bed for a few minutes, collecting her thoughts. It seemed strange to be back in her own bed, in her own apartment. So it was possible to travel back and forth in time and stay intact. And Royce had come with her. Throwing her legs over the side of the bed, she tiptoed through the open door to the living room. She thought it best the night before to leave her door open in case he called out in fright. He might be shocked to wake up in strange surroundings. Apparently he’d slept as deeply as she did. He was still sprawled out on the couch, as comfortable as could be. She was glad to see that. She was also glad she had pulled off his boots the night before and covered him up.

Heading to the shower, she thought she would throw on some sweats and head downstairs to Starbucks to buy some pastries and cream cheese. That would be good with some freshly ground coffee. She had deliberately let her perishable supplies dwindle since she had gone to St. Joe for a few days.

Taking a pad and pen from the kitchen island, she jotted down a quick note telling Royce to get something out of the fridge if he wanted anything to eat or drink before she got back. She also said she was coming back with pastries. She left it out in plain view, thinking he might walk around when he woke up.

Taking one last peek at Royce blissfully asleep, she quietly unlocked the door and pulled it shut behind her. She hoped she would get some answers to her problems about Royce. He had feelings for her, unspoken feelings, that was plain. If he had been more open about what he felt for her, she might have stayed in the past. Or would she? That seemed childish, to leave her life, her job, her apartment for a life in the past with a near-stranger. Yet he needed medical help and he wanted to get it with her assistance. He had no idea what cataract surgery consisted of. In all honesty, he said he would work to pay the bills. But he had no idea of the cost of things in the year 2010. It was just as well to be ignorant in some things.

* * * *

Royce awoke and rubbed his eyes. He yawned and stretched and then dropped his hands down to feel what he had been sleeping on. His fingers caressed soft leather, plugged with buttons. Strange, but he was sleeping on a couch instead of his bed. It was better than most beds he’d been in his entire life. A soft blanket had been tossed over his legs. Slowly, he realized he was at Donna’s place. They had driven to Chicago in her car, then came up to this huge building where he rode an elevator for the first time. He groaned at the memory. Swinging his legs over the edge of the couch, he realized someone had removed his boots. All well and good. There they were, propped by the wall. He wondered where Donna was. Everything was still and he had no idea what time it was. He heard his stomach rumbling and thought perhaps he might find some food in her kitchen. Though he didn’t smell anything cooking, he thought she might have some rolls or bread or perhaps cold coffee. He thought, too, she was probably still asleep. He’d search the rooms for her.

Padding down the hall, he peeked into vacant bedrooms and saw nobody. The largest bedroom had a huge bed, still unmade. He felt the sheets and they were cool so she had been gone for at least a half hour. She must have gone out, perhaps to get provisions. Past the bedrooms, he came to a large kitchen. Colorful copper kettles hung off hooks on the ceiling. A rope of garlic cloves hung on a nail. He sniffed it, but it seemed dried up. It appeared she had it hanging around just for decoration. A clay basket of apples looked inviting. Pale and green, they looked crisp, so he picked one up and took a bite.

“Argh, it’s wax!” Spitting it out into his hand, he investigated the inside. More decorations!

There wasn’t a single seed or anything inside that even resembled an apple! He threw the disgusting mess into a nearby trash can.

He didn’t see any coffee pot, though the stove was certainly clean and tidy. It was completely bare, not a speck of grease on it. He wondered how you put a pot on to boil, the top was black and smooth, as glass. He ran his hand over it to ascertain it was glass and wondrously smooth. There was a handle; he pulled it open to see where they built the fire. There was nothing in there but some racks and wire coils. Not a bit of ash or soot. Like everything else he saw in the place, it was tidy and spotless.

Opening a cabinet, he saw a few cans of what appeared to be some home preserved vegetables. He knew this from the colorful paper wrappers glued around each can. Most everything was recognizable: corn, beets, beans, and green beans, among others. He thought he might want to open one and sample what was inside, just to see how futuristic food tasted. But as he rolled the can of beets around in his palm, he could not figure out how in the world one would open it! He rapped it with his knuckles and even gave it a squeeze, but to no avail. Looking under the sink, he found a large bag of white rice. He knew what it was immediately; the sack it was in was crystal clear and fairly tough! If it had been burlap he would have had to wonder what was inside, or opened it to see the contents. Right now he would have enjoyed a buttery bowl of rice, but he had no idea how he would boil it. He jabbed it and marveled at how he couldn’t even poke his finger through the wrapping.

Sighing, he surveyed what other wonders Donna might have in her kitchen. He inspected her sink, peered down the drain hole, and lifted up the silver pump handle. He had seen others do this in the Holtzclaw’s kitchen and was pleased when a stream of bubbly water ran into his hands. He filled his hands to the brim and then sipped the liquid. It was clear and cold, though it had a strong odor he couldn’t quite describe.

Opening another cabinet near the sink, he found cups and plates. On the countertops, he saw a variety of sizes of colored metal machines, for lack of a better word. He didn’t know what purpose they served except all of them appeared to have small blades, removable lids, and buttons. Everything seemed to be able to cut or chop up food, perhaps vegetables or fruits. Maybe Donna used this in food preservation in the summer.

And where was she anyway? He was getting bored with her kitchen and didn’t want to appear to be prowling through the rest of her place with her gone, though it would have been easy enough to do. Going to the wall in the living room where he had been sleeping, he yanked open the beige curtains. Startled at what he saw, he threw himself backwards in shock! He was higher than he had ever been in his life! Higher up than any tree or rooftop! Cars were below on the road, small and moving about in painted lanes! How small they looked from up here; and the people were miniscule also! Holding his breath a second, he moved closer to the pane of glass. Putting his hands lightly on it to avoid swaying from the vertigo, he peered out. Chicago was huge! So much bigger than what it looked like last time he visited in 1860. There must be millions upon millions of people living here. He could have stared out at the scene for an hour or more, but he thought he would go downstairs to street level. Perhaps he would run into Donna then. Maybe she had to contact her family or the people she worked for. He had been too tired the night before to ask her. Even when he took a trip, friends and family inquired about his well being and plans on the voyage out and also when he returned to St. Joe, so it should be no different with Donna.

Glancing around her kitchen one last time, he thought he might perhaps buy some food down on the street from peddlers or push cart vendors. Spotting a bowl of loose change on the counter, he scooped a handful and shoved it in his pants pocket. Perhaps if he bought some meat and vegetables and brought it back up to her place, she would cook it when she returned. As he headed to her front door he heard voices out in the hallway. Good! Others were leaving the building and he would follow them, since the elevator business was still strange to him. He yanked open the door and moved swiftly onto the landing.

Four other building dwellers were chatting animatedly, waving their hands, and not especially paying much attention to him. All the better for him. He would try to blend in with them, as they punched the elevator button.

He watched their mannerisms, their lack of alertness. They should be more cautious, this is a big city. He slid in amongst their group when they got into the elevator. Pressing himself against the back wall, he braced himself for the descent. As the others continued their gossip and talk of the days’ events, he held the bar on the wall to steady himself for the sickening downward motion. He shut his eyes as the elevator sank, thankful that he knew to face frontward and nobody paid the least amount of attention to him.

They came to a halt, and he hoped his queasy stomach wouldn’t give him away. Luckily for him, everybody seemed to be in a rush to depart and do whatever they had to do. He waited a second, and then followed the group of them out into the street. Some turned left and some turned right. He decided to follow the latter group, as he could smell food. Jingling the coins in his pocket, he saw a man wearing a white hat and pushing a cart. Steamy meat smells leaked out from under the cover of his small pushcart. Royce took a seat on a nearby bench to observe before he went into action. He had no idea what the food was, or even what it cost. He would just watch and wait a bit until others showed up. Surely with the sun so high in the sky people would be taking a lunch break soon. He was right. People must have been watching for this vendor’s approach. First a stylishly dressed lady in a very short skirt and jacket stepped up and began to make small talk with the man. Her hair had the same kind of golden stripes in that Donna’s had. They seemed to know each other by their friendly banter. He guessed she had bought food from him before. The vendor took a paper wrapping and then reached into a sack and pulled out a bun. Then he opened one of his containers and with tongs, pulled out a long wiener! Royce’s mouth began watering at the smell. The man forked it on the bun and the lady gestured at other containers of toppings he had to offer. He slathered on mustard and onions while the lady selected some other colorful pouch of some food product. It crinkled with a rattling sound when she picked it up. He wasn’t sure what it was, but the cart had various colors of this food, hanging on a hook. There couldn’t have been much in the bag, it was so small. The woman took a sort of can or canister from a compartment. Finally she paid the vendor and came and sat down next to Royce, smiling. Before others could form a queue, Royce stood up and casually walked to the cart.

“I’ll have the same thing the lady had,” he said. He thought that was the best bet, since he was unsure of exactly what she had bought and he didn’t want to sound out-of-place.

“Sure, buddy,” the vendor said with a flourish of his silver tongs. “Can’t go wrong with a Chicago dog and chips, can ya?”

Royce watched him as he repeated the movements he had done a minute ago. The wiener was slapped in the bun and mustard and onions lavishly applied on top of it.

“What are ya having to drink today, bud?”

“Oh, just whatever you have on the top of the heap.”

“Looks like Coca-Cola,” the vendor said.

“Wonderful.” Royce figured it must be safe to drink if the woman was drinking it. He was used to a variety of tasty drinks back at Fallow Field Farm. Milk, sarsaparilla, ginger beer, and hot tea were always plentiful. In the fall and into the early winter they had good fresh apple cider. The maids dug up sassafras root in the springtime, and kept a supply of the dried roots in the pantry for brewing year-round. Then in bars out in town of course, you had beers, applejack, and whiskey for grownups.

Unsure what his purchases cost, Royce dug in his pocket and held out a handful of change to the man.

Quizzically, the man looked at him, then down at the change in his palm. Shrugging, he picked out a number of coins and pocketed them.

“First time in Chicago, eh?” the man said.

“Oh, no,” Royce said. “I’ve been here many times in the past.”

“Whatever. Enjoy your dog,” the man said.

Royce took his food back to the bench and saw the woman with the short skirt now had an upset look on her face.

“Drat! My pull tab broke off!” She was looking at her drink can in disgust. “Now how will I wash down my dog?”

Feeling chivalrous, Royce stood and took his knife from his pocket. “I’ll be glad to help you, miss.” The problem seemed vexing to her but the solution was as simple as A-B-C to him. He removed his knife from his pocket and wiped it clean with the napkins he had. Placing the can on the sidewalk, Royce jabbed his knife tip into the round circle that was keeping the drink inside the container. With a quick ‘poink’ the sharp metal pierced the can and the brown liquid bubbled out.

The woman clapped her hands in glee. “Thank you! I should have known a construction worker would carry a knife!”

Royce thought about correcting her because he was certainly no construction worker. He decided against it and thought he would get to work on eating his meal. He sat on the bench and carefully took a bite of the steaming hot dog, enjoying the flavors that mixed together. Since he saw the lady pull a ring on her drink can, he did the same and when it popped open, he took a sip of it. He was surprised at the bubbles that burst and tingled in his mouth. Suddenly, he felt a hand behind tugging at his collar, almost choking him. He turned to see Donna’s face blazing with fury.

“What are you doing? I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

Royce looked at her bemusedly. He didn’t appear the least bit ashamed that she found him sitting and eating a wiener.

“It’s not safe out here,” she blustered.

“Seems safe to me,” the strange lady in the short skirt said. “Anyway, he’s got a knife!”

When she saw the hostile look Donna shot at her she clamped her mouth shut.

“How did you plan to get back into the apartment?”

Royce smiled, continued to eat his wiener and mused on the question. “I guess I’d go up in that fast box you call the elevator and open the door.”

“Oh! You think it’s so easy! You don’t even have a key. And furthermore…” Suddenly she stopped, as though she realized how ridiculous she sounded. Her shoulders slumped and she looked at the sidewalk. “Just go ahead and finish your food. I’ll wait.”

Royce was glad she calmed down. Before she walked up, he thought he would get quite some free entertainment watching all these modern people walk about. Their clothing was so strange and their cars so brilliant and quick moving. But he saw at each intersection the cars slid to a stop as a flashing box above the street blinked colors. He wondered what it stood for, but the people driving the cars seemed to know. Cars, for all their futuristic wonder; didn’t travel much faster downtown than a horse and rider in his book.

People walked past him holding little skinny boxes clamped to their ears. Some were listening to them, as he had seen people do with seashells. He wondered what they were hearing; surely it wasn’t the sound of the ocean? Suddenly, they would bark out words into the devices as though they were talking to a person directly in front of them. Strange as it appeared, no one gave them a second look.

He thought he might even chat with the other lady on the bench. It didn’t take him long to finish off his hot dog and the crispy salty things that were in his sack. Donna stood silently while Royce finished his quick meal. She almost had to laugh when she saw how the bubbly drink affected his throat and nose. She knew he was drinking it too fast to let the bubbling sensation go down his throat. She calmed down and saw the ridiculousness of the situation. She knew she was being overprotective of Royce. He was a grown man, quite capable of handling himself in Chicago.

“Go ahead and take your time, Royce. Time is immaterial nowadays.” She sighed. The lady looked at her strangely and then looked away as if she didn’t want to get involved in a lover’s quarrel.

When Royce was finished, he stood and threw his trash in a nearby can. He smiled at Donna and the two of them made their way back to her apartment house.

They rode in elevator and he didn’t experience near the discomfort he had the first two times. Donna unlocked her door and they walked in.

“We need to talk, Royce.”

“About what?”

“About you venturing outside without me. It was dangerous.” She turned toward him, her face furious and her arms crossed.

“Donna, I’m quite capable of going out in public. I don’t need a nursemaid.” He walked back to the window and stared down at the streets below.

She followed him. “It’s not that you aren’t capable of being outside the building alone. It’s just that you’re not used to this place, to the people, to traffic…and just everything.”

Royce continued to stand there peering out the glass. “Donna, I swear you have smoke coming out of your ears.” He laughed.

“Don’t laugh at me! I’m dead serious!” She grabbed his elbow.

Royce turned to face her.

“Alright, alright. If it makes you feel any better, I won’t go anywhere without you right by my side.” Hugging her, he gently kissed her forehead. “And thank you for being so concerned about my safety.”

Stiffening against his hug, she suddenly softened. “It was just scary to see you sitting there talking with strangers.” She began to rub his back. “I picked up some pastries and cream cheese from the coffee shop. I know it’s a bit late for breakfast, but we can have them now and watch a little bit of television before we go to my office.”

She took the box from the bakery and opened it up. “Here, I’ll show you how to use this in case I’m not around and you want to heat up some food.” She placed a muffin on a paper plate and opened up the door to the black metal box on her counter. Punching in ‘22’ and ‘Start’ she showed him how he could watch while the food turned in a circle and a light lit up the inside of the box.

“Be careful, sometimes food with sugar and grease gets extra hot. Another thing, don’t operate it with the door open. I’ll make us some coffee.”

He had been watching through the tiny glass window as the pastries turned inside. He thought the muffin smelled wonderful! Plus the convenience of heating them in the little metal box was fun. He poked the muffin and felt the tingle of warmth on his fingertip. They sat on barstools in her kitchen, spreading cream cheese on their pastries with more of those plastic knives and waiting for the coffee to brew. Donna prepared it in a strange way. She scooped coffee from a can and it was already ground. He thought how Lilly would have scooped the beans from a burlap sack and run them through a hand grinder in the kitchen. She took a small piece of white paper and shoved it down into a machine and snapped a door shut on it. Next she ran water from the tap and dumped it into a type of trough on top. Lastly, she plugged a white rope into the wall and punched a button. A few seconds later, the earthy smell of coffee began filling her kitchen.

“How wonderful! And it was so easy to make!”

“Yes, we have improved a lot of food and drink products. Everybody wants convenience nowadays,” Donna said. “Things have to be pre-chopped, pre-cooked, and pre-washed.”

They sat silently a moment, enjoying their food and looking out the window at the cityscape.

“Why don’t you go wash up and shave and I’ll check my emails? Then we can go to my office,” Donna said.

“Thank you, I would feel better if I freshened up.”

“I’ve got shaving supplies in the bathroom though they might look a little different than what you’re used to. Oh here, I’ll go show you—it’ll be fun.”

They went together to the bathroom and Donna opened a cabinet across from her towel display. She took out various cans and containers and arranged them on the counter. “First off, I guess you’ll want to shave.”

“Aye, that would be a blessing,” Royce said, rubbing his stubbly chin. “I suppose you’re going to tell me you aren’t giving me a shaving brush and mug?” He appraised the toiletries Donna spread around.

“No, nobody has those things anymore unless you’re shopping in an antiques shop.” She picked up a can marked ‘GEL’ and pressed the top to show Royce how to dispense it. “You’ll love this. It guarantees an easy glide.”

“Good!” Royce said.

“As a matter of fact, I think demonstrating the wonderful safety razor will help you out. I’ve never seen a man shave with a straight razor except in old cowboy movies.” Donna handed him a lightweight disposable and pried the safety cover off. “No more of those dangerous straight razors.” Royce examined the thin blade and the yellow hollow handle. “When you’re done with it, you know, when the blade gets dull, you just throw the whole thing in the trash and get another one out of the bag.”

“So, no razor stropping for these?” Royce turned on the tap and ran hot water onto a washrag. Then he wiped it over his face.

“Nope, that’s obsolete. As you can see, it’s plastic.” Donna took a bit of the green gel and lightly stroked it on Royce’s cheek. “Wait, I’ll show you. This is more fun than arguing. I never thought I’d give a man a shaving lesson.” She giggled. Squirting some gel into her hand, she stroked it on her cheeks. Taking another capped razor, she began slow short upward strokes in the mirror. After each stroke, she ran the razor under the tap to remove the gel. Royce watched in amazement. Then he stood next to Donna and began imitating her moves.

“Go slow, I know it’s a strange feeling to you.” Donna finished her cheeks and then stroked the razor over her neck and upper lip. “It feels strange to me too!”

While Royce was finishing his shave, Donna took a large bottle, flipped the cap and squirted some orange liquid into her palm. “This soap doubles as a shampoo and body wash. Smells heavenly, too.” She put her palm out so Royce could sniff it.

“Last is the deodorant. I don’t know if you would like to use roll-on or stick but I have both.”

“Deodorant?”

“Yes, underarm and everyone uses it nowadays. Men and women all smell flowery or powdery or perfumed. You rub this on after you wash and towel off.” She demonstrated again with the tube.

“How wonderful. That would be one of the best inventions I think you have in the future. Especially on hot summer days!”

“Yes, science has given us a lot of useful, everyday stuff and frankly, we wouldn’t dream of living without it.”

As Royce studied the small group of cans and bottles she left him, Donna began edging out the door.

“When you’re done, give me a call and we’ll style and dry your hair. No more wet heads in Chicago winters anymore!”

Chapter Thirteen

“We’ll be there in a few minutes,” Donna said, watching her rear-view mirror. “What do you think of Chicago traffic?”

Royce was sitting, transfixed, watching cars zip by them at horrific speeds.

“Things seem different in the daylight and scarier. Cars go faster than a galloping horse. Do they ever spin off the road?”

“Unfortunately, yes. Sometimes bunches of them tangle up. If you want to see it, we’ll watch the traffic reports on the evening news. By the way, would you enjoy going to a horse race sometime? I could take you to the Chicago race track.”

“The race track? Oh, could we?” Royce asked. He had to admit, Donna handled her car with grace and grit. He wasn’t sure if he could drive the way she did and remain fearless. She pulled off the road into a parking lot by a cluster of buildings. “We’re here.”

Royce breathed a sigh of relief.

“Was my driving that bad?” Donna laughed. “Don’t worry, you’ll get used to Chicago traffic after a day or two.”

“I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to seeing cars five and six abreast at neck-breaking speeds.” Secretly he was glad they stopped. “It reminded me of pictures of a chariot race I saw one time in a book.”

“That’s a good way to describe Chicago traffic! Well, here’s where I work every day. I need to make an appearance and check up on things since I’ve been gone.” Donna indicated her building with a nod of her head.

“What do you do here?” Royce asked. “And why are we going in through the back staircase?”

“I don’t want anybody to see us, at least not yet.” Donna said.

“Good. I thought perhaps you were ashamed of me for some reason,” Royce laughed.

“If anything, I’d hide you from my girlfriends!” Donna unlocked the door and flipped on the lights. “I run a small business incubator. I help women get started in businesses. I help get them bank financing, networking, and set up shop.” She walked over to her fax machine to see if anything was in the tray. “Pretty much everything.” Noticing that her lack of faxes was probably due to the fact that the machine had run out of paper, she inserted some into the slot.

“So more women work outside the home now? I think that’s wonderful! I always thought women were as smart as men anyway, probably smarter. How do they manage a husband and children doing that?” Royce said.

“They place them in day care—you would say a governess or nanny. But daycare is one big place with many children. Anyways, women don’t have so many children. Hardly anybody has twelve children anymore. One or two is more the norm.”

“One or two? That certainly must be easier on women.”

“It is. Bless Margaret Sanger.”

“Who is she?”

“Margaret was the mother of modern birth control.”

“You’ll have to explain that one, Donna.”

“It’s for women of child bearing age. The choice for women to be in control of their family size.”

“Is that humanly possible?”

“With advances in science and medicine, yes it is.”

“I must puzzle over that—it is mind boggling to say the least.” Just then the fax machine ran and he jumped. “What was that?” He watched as a piece of paper began sliding into the tray.

“My backed up faxes. Good.”

Donna went over to her desktop computer and turned it on. Soon, she was clicking away and then printed a one-page sign.

“Here, Royce. Tape this up on the door.” She indicated a tape dispenser near the chair where Royce was sitting.

“What is it?”

“Just a note saying I’ll be shut for a while because of a family problem.”

Royce did as she asked.

“Then I’m emailing the doctor’s office about getting you checked out for cataract removal as fast as we can.” Donna began furiously pounding away on keys.

Royce beamed at her. “How much will this surgery cost?”

“You don’t want to know.”

“Fine, I’ll drop that subject. Would you like me to read your, uh, faxes to you?”

“Please do,” Donna said, pausing as if to form a sentence. “They’re usually from business owners and there’s junk in there too about free Disney trips and cheap insurance. You’ll see some are one page and others are multiple ones.”

Royce picked up the top piece of paper and smiled. “I think you’ll like this one.”

“What does it say?” Donna asked absentmindedly.

“It’s from your mother. It reads ‘When are you going to introduce me to your new boyfriend?’”

Royce laughed uproariously as he watched Donna’s face darken. “It seems that someone’s been talking, Donna!”

* * * *

“Yes, mother, I’ve got a new boyfriend. Yes, his name is Royce and he’s from Saint Joe.”

Royce watched, bemused as Donna talked to her mother in her cell phone as she called it. He had seen hundreds of people talking into them downtown and was getting used to seeing them glued to everybody’s ears. He didn’t like to intrude into anyone’s private conversations, but all of them, like Donna, just talked away as if they were alone. So he continued eating his fried potatoes. Strange, but women didn’t talk much differently than the ones back in 1865. The restaurant was full of people, most in business clothing. The hour was late, seven o’clock, much later than he would normally have eaten in the past. But Donna explained with the advent of electric lighting, people stayed up until all hours, eating, drinking, working and reading books. All the people there were eating, drinking, and talking, most in subdued tones. There didn’t seem to be any families in there, only single people and couples, perhaps due to the late hour he figured. Donna said she wanted him to enjoy a meal with her in an intimate setting. He was happy to be with her, anywhere, anytime.

The décor was nautical, downright jaunty, he thought. Rope barriers were fastened to the walls dividing the seating areas. A large board filled with macramé knots was at the entrance, and old fishing nets hung from the ceiling. Even the waitresses and waiters wore sailor-themed clothing and smart white caps. Royce smiled and thought most of these young people had never seen the inside of a fishing boat, let alone even baited a hook. But he had to admit the food was mouth watering.

He was used to being inside after dark, with a small amount of time set aside for his scrimshawing or macramé. To tell the truth, he didn’t even have a clock on the wall, his life pretty much revolved around the rising and the setting of the sun. He did have his father’s silver pocket watch in his dresser for safekeeping, though he never used it. It was too fine a piece to carry around for everyday use anyway. The entire Brandenton household was the same way. Life here in the future seemed much more hectic, tense, and sped up. But he could get used to it. The scandalous way the women dressed was upsetting at first. The women in this restaurant were just as bad as the women he saw out in public. It took all the effort he could muster not to stare at them.

He was jarred out of his people-watching by the snap of Donna’s phone.

“Conversation ended.”

“Is she satisfied?”

“Not until she meets you. But I guess Missus Holtzclaw described you well enough that she’s very curious.”

“I’m flattered, I guess.” Royce stretched his legs under the table. “I’m sure we’ll get along.”

“Don’t be so positive. Mother irritates most people.”

“Everybody needs a friend. Why are you at odds with her?”

Donna buttered her roll with enough force to make the roll split in two.

“She’s always been onto me to give her grandchildren.”

“So? What’s wrong with that? That’s entirely natural.” Royce glanced appreciatively up at the waitress who had just brought him his platter of fried smelt.

“Yes, but I’m in no rush. I want to have a life, thank you.”

“How old are you, Donna?” Royce asked, his eyes twinkling with mirth.

“I’m twenty-eight, thank you.”

“I am the same age. In my time, a woman would have had quite a large family by that age. As a matter of fact, I know quite a few of that age who are grandmothers.”

“Yes, I know—and that’s all they would have had. I wanted a life and a career.”

Royce dipped chunks of his fish into some white sauce the waitress had brought in a small cup. He’d never had that before; the piquant taste went well with the meal. The little pieces of pickle made it pretty.

“I don’t want to pry and ask you about it. But don’t you feel there is a big void in your life –

being childless and all?” He didn’t want to anger Donna, but he was curious as to all this freedom that women had in the future. Freedom to do what? What about happiness and husbands and nurseries? The thought thrilled him.

“I’ve got a fantastic career, a new car, and a stylish apartment downtown. Isn’t that what every woman wants?” She stared at the uneaten roll on her plate.

“Some things money can’t buy. Can I please have another order of smelt and this cold chopped cabbage? I don’t know what you call it.”

“Its coleslaw and yes; just wave the waitress over here and tell her you’d like another plate,”

Donna said morosely.

Royce buttered another roll and watched Donna curiously.

“Donna, you seem to have everything and nothing at the same time. You said you admired this Sanger woman, what was her name again?”

“Margaret. Margaret Sanger.”

“Is she still alive in this time period?” Now the waitress was near the table and Royce managed to catch her eye.

“No, she’s long gone, Royce. But her legacy remains. Why do you ask?”

The waitress scurried away to the kitchen when Royce indicated he wanted more fish.

“I’d like to talk with her and see her opinion of what her work has wrought. The happiness or sadness of so many women with childless lives.”

“Not everybody wants to be totally childless, Royce. Some families only want one child. Or the man and woman are in agreement to space them out over a period of years.”

“Still, it seems so strange.” Royce moved his empty plate to the side when the waitress quickly returned with a new heaped platter. “I know the Schuck family in Baroda, they spread their children over twenty years.”

He moved the piece of parsley aside to get to the lightly breaded fish. “Donna, I hate to eat in front of you when you are eating nothing.”

“No, please, enjoy yourself. It’s just that my mother’s call upset me.”

“She wants you to be happy.”

“She’s just nosy.”

“Donna, I know you wanted us to have a romantic meal, but truthfully, if it wasn’t for leaving this wonderful food, I would just as soon be with you at your apartment right now.”

Donna seemed to snap back to reality. “I’m sorry, Royce. Let’s get takeout boxes and we can leave right now.”

“Good. I want to go back to your place and make love to you.”

* * * *

“The clinic’s only five miles from my apartment,” Donna said. “Your appointment’s at ten.”

Bemused, Royce watched her. Donna had been rattling on about the upcoming cataract surgery at her apartment, but he paid scant notice to her. They had showered together this morning, with him soaping her hair. He quickly found out he liked her double-sized shower. With a hand control and shower head at each side, it was more than adequate to hold both of them at the same time. Since they had overslept, they did not have time to make love again. Donna said they’d be late to see Dr. Kravitz and it was imperative that they be on time because they were working Royce in as a favor. He was still in a good mood from their love-making the night before. He hoped to catch Donna’s eye, but she kept looking at the traffic. He wondered how she could turn her emotions on and off so simply? With him, being with a woman was allencompassing, a total body and soul experience. They had taken their time the night before, when they returned from the restaurant. They slowly undressed each other, touching and caressing each other’s body. Royce took his sweet time. He was no inexperienced youth; he knew a woman took longer to bring to fulfillment. While a man was ready to go in a minute’s notice, a woman had need of lingering kisses and slow caresses. Though his own desires were greedy, he wanted Donna to experience as much pleasure as he did.

She allowed him to stroke her slowly, inching up into the wet tangle of curls between her legs. When he probed her and parted her flesh with her fingers, she shook at first, almost wilting with arousal. He clasped her around her waist and took her into his arms, carrying her across the room. He placed her on the bed, looking down at her in his lust, wanting all of her at once. She beckoned him with open arms. He cupped her breasts at first, brushing her peaks with his thumbs until she moaned deep and low. She ran her hands from his neck to his waist, then back again. She hesitated touching his manhood, as if teasing him. She was no virgin and he liked her that way. He needed to be inside of her and soon.

He slid his hands between her and the mattress, gripping her bottom. His mouth was hungry and open on hers, tasting her lips and tongue. Desire flickered through him with intensity. He now pressed his hard tight flesh through her legs, into her body. He could feel her tightening with anticipation, lifting her hips to receive him.

And then they were one, wildly mating, tasting each other’s flesh. They pulsed at first, deep and fast, then slowed to match each other’s rhythms. Soon shudders racked their bodies simultaneously and he had to rest his head on her chest. For a few moments neither one of them moved, not wanting the moment to end.

He enjoyed replaying the memory in his mind while he looked at scenery passing by. Donna had assured him there would be few complications if the doctor accepted him to be a patient. They had been doing the surgery for over thirty years and it was streamlined and routine nowadays. That was almost incomprehensible to him, that a doctor could operate on his eye and cure it. Since he knew nothing of medical practices in the future, he had no fears, not the slightest. Pain didn’t bother him, he was stoic in most things involving cutting or stitching up. Donna said now they had painkillers that were amazing if you needed them. Before they left their car in the parking garage, they kissed and held each other tightly.

“It’ll be fine. Don’t worry about a thing and if you have any questions, just go ahead and ask him.”

“I will, don’t worry,” Royce said.

The waiting room was plush, with thick gold carpeting and overstuffed chairs and two couches. Royce picked up a magazine, as he saw others had done. While Donna asked questions of the receptionist, he looked briefly at the other people in the room. There were five of them, male and female, all much older than him. He didn’t want to appear that he was staring, so he began flipping the glossy pages of the magazine.

When she finally finished with the nurse, she sat down next to him with a big smile on her face.

“It’ll only be a few minutes. The nurse said these people are just here for checkups and they’re all seeing technicians or nurses, not Doctor Kravitz.”

“Great!” Royce could have whiled away plenty of time since the room had a large set of windows looking out over Lake Michigan. The television began playing a raucous sort of show with flashing lights and bells and scantily clad women. The host, as they called him, was boisterous and eccentric acting. The participants from the audience were dressed in silly costumes and hats, trying to attract the host’s eye. It was strange and odd but also energetic and humorous. Just when he was starting to figure out the scoring and seeing who was ahead, a nurse came to the door and called his name. Sighing, he stood up. He didn’t want to disappoint Donna, but he was enjoying the silly show.

They went back to an examining room and in a few minutes, Doctor Kravitz knocked and entered. He was a smiling, ruddy-faced man. Since Donna knew him, Royce figured he was as good a choice as any for fixing his eye.

“What have we here?” Doctor Kravitz motioned for Royce to lift his eye patch.

“A cataract, sir. And Donna says you’re the one to remove it.”

“Let’s get an exam going here and I’ll see what my diagnosis is.” Dr. Kravitz pulled out a small flashlight, much tinier than the one Royce had seen Donna use in the stable. He turned it on, opened Royce’s eyelid and peered in, around, and under.

“Hmm. I’d say you have a standard garden-variety cataract. You’re quite a young man to have one, but yes, I think it can be easily removed.”

Royce felt happy at the prospect of having two good eyes. “So we can do it right now?”

Dr. Kravitz laughed. “No, Royce, it’ll be at least two days before I can work you in. Today I am seeing office patients and of course, you’ll have insurance paperwork to do beforehand.”

Royce looked over at Donna.

“No, there won’t be any insurance paperwork, Doctor. I’m paying cash. The details were on the fax I sent you.”

Peering into Royce’s good eye, the doctor was quiet. “Yes, my scheduling clerk told me about that. I’m not opposed to doing it that way, it’s just unusual. Since I know your family, Donna, I will do it, but you know I’ll require post-surgery checkups also.”

“Yes, I understand.”

“I’ve had a few Amish patients in the past who have come here from northern Indiana and as you know, they don’t have insurance either. They shop around for bargains and good doctors and they pay cash. Some of them even fly to India and the Caribbean to get hip replacements.” He stood and shook Royce’s hand. “Young man, you and Donna go to the lab down the hall and they’ll draw some blood, start a little pre-op file on you. Then go to the scheduling clerk on your way out and she’ll set you up for a surgery time. You’ll soon be seeing twenty-twenty with both eyes! No more eye patch!”

Royce replaced his eye patch and stood. He felt quite a thrill at hearing the doctor’s encouraging words. “Thank you so much.”

Doctor Kravitz smiled as he gathered Royce’s paperwork. “You might want to get in some sight-seeing in before the surgery. You won’t want to be going outside in the wind and dust for a while after I replace your lens.”

After he left and shut the door, Donna hugged Royce.

“I’m excited, too! We’ll go take in the Shedd Aquarium today and I want to show you the Picasso statue downtown. Chicago has a lot of tourist stuff for a visitor to see.”

Chapter Fourteen

“You’ll have to be still, Royce so I can squirt these eye drops in your eye.”

“Donna, this inactivity is boring. I’m using to being more active.” He fidgeted, dabbing at the eye drops that spilled a bit from his eye. “When did the doctor say I could work again?”

“It’ll be a while. Remember, he said you don’t want to be bending over. And no picking up heavy objects.” Donna thought how confusing all the restrictions and medical procedures must have seemed to Royce.

“I didn’t know I’d have all these rules afterward. I thought he would just slice it off and then I could see.”

“That’s sort of what he did. He lasered it off and then implanted a new lens on top of your cornea. It’ll stay there the rest of your life.”

“Isn’t that magical? And he said my left eye was perfect. So when this is healed, I’ll have great vision—even better than before.”

“Yes, having to wear an eye patch would have thrown off your balance and perception through the years. You’ll be seeing things quite different when it’s healed.” Donna recapped the bottle. “Is there anything particular you want to do now?”

“Can we watch the game shows? They’re so amusing.”

“Of course, you have to take it easy anyway.” She walked to the television and turned it on.

“I’ll catch up on paperwork out here.”

She hadn’t told him yet, but she was falling in love with him. Caring for him had made her realize this. After the surgery he was at her mercy, and needed assistance in doing so many things. Though he wasn’t in any real pain, he was in some discomfort and had to have her help in doing little things such as dressing and shaving and washing his face. She had never cared for anything or anybody except herself in a personal manner before. She never even thought she could play the role of nurse. But bustling around her apartment, fetching pillows and slippers and food made her feel worthwhile. It was different than her career; this was taking care of another human being. She felt happy and fulfilled.

“Donna, I want to tell you something.”

“Yes, what is it?” Donna sat shuffling papers at the kitchen table.

“I want to go back to eighteen-sixty-five. To show my mother my eye. And tell her about the miracles here in the future. Then to set things up for her if I never go back. Do you think we can use your brooch?”

“I don’t know, Royce.” Donna left the table and walked over to the recliner. “When you came with me I was unsure what would happen. I liked you, of course, but I hadn’t developed deep feelings yet. Now everything is different.”

“Are you saying you love me?” Royce asked softly.

“I don’t want to say it until the time is right. But my feelings have changed for you over time.”

“I’m glad. I don’t want to push you to say something you don’t want to say.”

Donna gulped. Suddenly, this was turning emotional fast. “We can try to travel back. I just wonder if the surgery will undo itself. You know, make the cataract grow back?”

“I’ve been thinking about it. Though I’m not a man of science, I noticed things about you that did not change. The little black things in your teeth are still there. Your ears are still pierced. Your tattoos are still on your skin.”

“Good point. But these things were already done before I time-traveled and locked in. Your surgery is fresh.”

“Yes, but the lens is set forever the doctor said. I could wear some kind of protective helmet or shield.”

“Perhaps I could get you a pair of safety glasses. I’ll think it over. Royce, I liked the past. Saint Joe was exactly the place I could live in forever and work and grow. I wouldn’t mind being there permanently if I could work out the logistics. Things were so much simpler.” She thought back to the quietness of Fallow Field, the home cooked food, and the bucolic nature of life. Living there was peaceful and rewarding.

“Donna, I love the future. The speed of things, the entertainment, the medicine and science. There are so many things I would love to learn about.”

“But we would need jobs, money, a place to live in the past,” Donna said. “We would have to work it out.”

The sounds of bells clanging and canned laughter came from the television.

“So, we are at odds of what time we will live in.” Donna felt like laughing. “People joke about bi-coastal couples and sometimes living and working in two time zones. But never about what century to live in.”

“Donna, I want to say one more thing.”

“What?”

“I want to have babies with you, whatever time we live in. And I want them all to resemble you.”

* * * *

Donna was pleased that Royce’s surgery turned out so well. The doctor said he was a model patient, and his recovery would probably be quick. He told Royce he could resume his normal duties within a month. His only warnings were to keep his eyes, face, and hands clean and avoid any type of dangerous sports that might involve objects flying at him. Other than that, he could go on with his life.

She was glad his recovery was going smoothly, because now she had to deal with Royce’s request to travel back in time. Since he wanted to travel back to 1865, Donna thought how she would set the wheels in motion again. She thought the simplest plan would be the easiest. Since her parents were still out of the country, there was really no one she had to answer to, outside of a few clients. All of them could be postponed for all sorts of plausible reasons. While Royce was recuperating, she had been contacting people she had to tie up loose ends with, wrote up some business plans for new clients, and looked at her scheduling calendar to see how long she and Royce could feasibly stay in 1865. Oddly enough, she found she could block out up to four weeks of time, give or take a few days. If she worked in another vague business trip to tell her mother about, it would work. A quick trip to Florida or the coast of Georgia wasn’t unheard of for a cold Chicagoan.

They decided it would be best to do their time traveling in the dark. Though it wasn’t entirely necessary, it would be difficult to explain if someone came up. And Donna said she would hide her car so it wouldn’t be conspicuous either. They would wear all black clothing so they would immediately blend in if someone was at the stable. Since Royce still had clothing at his cottage and Donna had a change of clothes there, they were all set as far as changing. Donna was glad that Royce had grabbed up his duffle bag at the last minute when they left for the future. He had brought some items that may or may not have had a use in the future, but they were meaningful to him. Donna hoped they would tie them to the past, perhaps grounding them to where Royce lived. After all, didn’t her heirloom brooch tie her to 1865?

They had gone over the items the night before. He had brought a crumpled 1865 calendar, his scrimshaw tools plus a few pieces he was working on. Additionally he had brought his father’s pocket watch, a wooden whistle, and a spare knife besides the one he kept strapped to his belt. He said he didn’t think anything of what he had done; he just always carried a small bag with him when he went to town or traveled out. Sometimes things came in handy to have and not have to go to a dry goods store to purchase something when you needed it. So they were on their way. They stopped in Gary, Indiana to get a hearty meal in a diner.

“Royce, you appear a bit tense. Are you worried about something?”

“Just that—perhaps—oh, I must say it. Donna, I would hate to lose you in the trip.”

“You won’t! Didn’t we travel together the first time? It turned out alright.” Donna scraped up the last of her mashed potatoes.

“It’s just that I think what would happen if you died and I was alone.”

“Then you would do just fine, Royce. It’s not as if you would have to live in the future. You would be in your time and everything would be as it was.”

“All right. If you say so. I’ll just be glad when it’s all over.”

The waitress came and left the ticket for their meal. Donna dropped a twenty on the table and they left in the darkness.

* * * *

As they approached Fallow Field, Donna was glad to see nothing was amiss. It had been a scant two weeks since they had been there and she had been hoping that nothing had changed. She parked her car deep in the pear orchard, behind a large clump of briars and tangles. Even with the leaves off the trees, the undergrowth was so dense no one could have seen her car unless they deliberately went searching for it. The brown color helped too. Then she and Royce walked back up to the stables.

They arranged themselves as closely to their departure stances as they could remember. Donna sat atop the cleaning rack and Royce sat directly behind her, his arms clasped tightly around her waist.

“Are you ready?” Donna asked, clutching the brooch.

“As ready as I’ll ever be. Go ahead and stick yourself, darling.” He buried his face in the nape of Donna’s neck. Then with his duffle bag slung around his neck he closed his eyes and felt the swirling motion overtake him.

Gasping, they were both jolted back to consciousness as they hit the hard floor. Shaking his head, Royce felt stunned and then quickly grabbed Donna. She appeared breathless, but opened her eyes and smiled.

“We did it, Royce! We’re back!” With this, they hugged each other.

“What time do you think it is?” Royce peered out the dirty windows.

“Twilight is falling. Perfect. We can go to your cottage and I’ll change my clothes then sneak back into the house.”

“Good. Then perhaps tomorrow morning we’ll wrap up our business here. I’m just glad nobody’s around and we can blend in to our old surroundings.”

“Let’s get going while we have just a smidgen of light.” Donna hopped up and began dusting herself off.

* * * *

She changed in Royce’s cottage and had him quickly braid her hair. Then posthaste, they walked up to the Brandenton house in the gloom. They waited outside for a minute, hugging, before Royce peeked in the windows to make sure the coast was clear. The maids had gone to their cottage for the night and all lights had been extinguished.

“Do you know the floors well enough to get up to your room?”

“Yes, but I’ll light a candle anyway. I think it will be more awkward if they come upon me and I am walking around in the dark. Having a candle makes more sense.”

“Good thinking. I’ll be in my empty bed tonight, thinking of you!” He brushed his lips against Donna’s.

“It won’t be long and we’ll be together always, Royce.” She opened the door slowly and slipped inside. The smell of the evening meal, a baked roast was still in the air.

“I’ll wait outside until I see the candle from your window. Then I know you’ll be in your room.” With this, he shut the door.

Donna found the drawer with candles in it in the kitchen cupboard. She slipped one into a holder, and then lit it with the hot coals still red in the fireplace. Tiptoeing out into the hallway, she began her walk up the staircase. It appeared that everyone had gone to bed, all the better. Her room was exactly as she left it, even down to her bed covers being tidy. She held her candle to the window and signaled Royce. Though she couldn’t see him, she knew he was there and felt better. Unbraiding her hair, then undressing, she pulled a gown on and then slipped between the covers. She wondered what tomorrow held.

Chapter Fifteen

Donna was up early, hoping to get the jump on Lilly preparing breakfast and the maids arriving. She dressed quickly, and then went downstairs to see if anyone was stirring. Luckily, the household was still asleep. She peered out the windows at the sunrise, noting a heavy coating of frost on everything. Fall was always short in Michigan and winter was around the corner before you knew what hit you. As she knew the morning routine, she went to the kitchen to start the fire in the cook stove. Not that she was especially hungry, but she wanted to warm her hands.

Shutting the stove door, she peered out the western window and saw Lilly coming up the path from her cottage, stepping quickly because of the cold air. She thought she would step outside to greet her and see if she acted strange or gave some sort of sign that she realized Donna had been gone.

As Lilly reached for the handle to open the back door, Donna opened it. She saw the look of surprise on the maid’s face.

“Well, uh, good morning, Miss! I see you’re back! You certainly had the household in a tizzy!!” She took off her knit cap.

“Yes, I’ve been back since last night. I woke early from a bad dream and since I couldn’t go back to sleep I came down to the kitchen. I took the liberty of starting the fire for you.”

“Thank you! Then all I’ll have to do is the biscuit baking and bacon frying!” Lilly seemed appreciative but still had a puzzled look on her face. “Royce was gone too. The Bradenton’s thought the two of you had run off.” She acted embarrassed to bring it up. As she busied herself cracking eggs into a bowl, she hummed nervously under her breath. “I guess I’ll just fry some up for you first, and wait until the missus and mister wake up to make anything else.” Suddenly, she dropped an egg on the counter. Donna noticed her hands were shaking.

“Don’t pay me any mind, Lilly. I’ll just sit here and watch you make the biscuits.” She watched as Lilly nervously scooped the egg into an empty bowl.

“They went to the constable in town. He said there wasn’t anything he could do. It didn’t appear that any laws were broken and nobody was injured or robbed. He said to wait and maybe the two of you might turn up.”

“We had a reason for leaving. We just couldn’t tell anybody about it.”

“I don’t mean to pry. But the Bradenton’s certainly will be surprised when they get up. Would you like me to get them up early?” Lilly appeared to relax a bit and she began frying bacon.

“No…no. Just let them get up like they normally do. I’ll be deciding on what to do this week I guess,” Donna said. “When will Rose and Annabelle get here?”

“Do you need them to do something for you?” Lilly was now pouring two cups of steaming coffee at the stove.

“I thought I might have them brush up my wardrobe and do a little light mending. Then my shoes and boots could use a good cleaning.”

“I’ll have them tend to it as soon as they get here, miss.”

Donna sipped her coffee, smiling. “Thank you, Lilly. I’ll take my coffee to the library while you finish cooking breakfast.”

She didn’t really need much done to her wardrobe, she simply wanted to pick up on their chatter to see how much time had elapsed since she and Royce had been gone. Lilly’s actions seemed normal enough—shock and then some general questions. So that was all well and good. If Lilly was curious about anything this morning, then Mr. and Mrs. Bradenton would probably be the same. She took a book and sat by the window to catch some of the morning rays of sunlight to bide her time until Rose and Annabelle arrived.

* * * *

“Yes, Ma’am, this coat needs a good brushing down. I’ll take it outside and freshen it up for you. Let me go through the other heavy things in your closet and I’ll take everything that needs it.” Annabelle was in a good mood and especially helpful, Donna thought. Rose was in her normal sullen mood, picking through Donna’s shoes and boots in the hallway. Donna thought her face looked puffy and she had gained some weight since she last noticed her. She wondered if she was coming down sick with something. She certainly didn’t want to catch it and give it to Royce with them leaving soon.

“Annabelle, I never thought to ask you, but do you have a boyfriend in town?” Donna thought she would start getting down to business about recent events.

“Why, yes I do. It’s a coincidence you ask me, Miss. Matter of fact, he asked me to marry him at the dance last week.”

“Congratulations! When is the wedding?” Donna felt pleased that the dance had occurred. Though she didn’t understand how it happened, she and Royce had been gone two weeks, but only one week had elapsed here at Fallow Field.

“In the spring. We want to start saving some money to build a house in Benton Harbor. By the time spring gets here we think we’ll have enough.”

“I guess Missus Bradenton will be hiring a new maid then.”

Annabelle smiled. “She’ll still have Rose in the meantime. And I’ll have plenty of time to recommend another girl before I leave.”

Suddenly, Rose sprang up from the stool she was sitting on to run down the hall.

“What’s wrong with her?” Donna asked.

“I don’t know. I’m afraid she might have the flu. She’s heading to the outhouse. I’ll go check on her, ma’am.”

Annabelle threw the coats on the bed and ran after Rose.

Donna decided to follow the women without them knowing to see what was going on. For some reason, she didn’t think Rose had the flu.

* * * *

Donna burst into Royce’s cottage without even knocking. He was standing in front of the fire with his mother, showing her his good eye.

Though it appeared to be a happy scene, Donna had some disturbing news for him. And it would involve all of them present in the room.

“Royce, we can’t wait much longer to leave—something has come up that’s changed all our plans.”

Lilly stared at her as if she’d gone mad. Then Donna realized Royce hadn’t told his mother about the time travel. She was just admiring her son’s good eye and probably dazzled by it all.

“Donna, Royce told me you got a surgeon to fix his eye. Bless you! I don’t know how you did it but Royce said you had it done in Chicago. Royce said that it’s fixed now and he’ll see fine.” She turned to caress his cheek.

“Ma’am—I don’t know if you heard me or not, but Royce and I will have to flee Fallow Field—and it should be by first light.”

Now, with both of them stood staring at her quizzically, there was another surprise. A large form appeared in Royce’s doorway and dropped a bucket he was carrying.

“I wondered how long it would take for you two to return.”

* * * *

“Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me.” Edward stood there with an empty milk pail in his hand. “I thought it best that I look like I had business here in case anybody asked later. But I doubt if they would.” Donna relaxed when he said that. So someone did notice their absence, even if it was only the farm’s dairy hand. Since Lilly still seemed surprised, it was apparent that he hadn’t spilled the beans on their departure and reappearance.

“Lilly,” he continued. “Donna is from the future. To be more specific, it is the year twothousand and ten. And I am from the year twenty-forty.” Now it was Donna’s turn to be shocked.

“I didn’t think you and Royce would come back to tell the truth. Usually, if a traveler sees the future, they love it and want to stay.”

“You—you’re from the future also?” Donna couldn’t fathom that she was standing close to another time traveler. And this one was from a time ahead of her own!

“Yes, why don’t we all sit down a minute and chat? It might make it easier for Lilly to understand.”

Royce pulled up a bucket to sit on and gestured for Donna to sit on the bed. Lilly took a stool and Edward sat on the hearth.

“I guess I’m one of the odd ones, I prefer it here in the past. I was having a troubled life in two-thousand and forty and found it easier to escape to the past and build a new life.” He peeked through the curtains furtively.

“I prefer it here in the past also!” Donna spoke up. “Royce and I were having disagreements on which time we would live in. As you said, he prefers the future and all its modern conveniences.

“Royce! Is this true what Edward is saying? That he and Donna are from the future?” Lilly jumped up off her stool.

“I’m afraid it’s true, Mother. They really are. And I want to live there also. I will say I suspected something about Edward for a long time.”

Lilly wrapped her shawl around her tightly. She started to say something but stopped.

“I know it’s difficult to believe, Lilly.” Edward said. “You all can ask me questions if you want and I’ll try to answer them in terms you’ll all understand.”

“For starters, how did you get here? Through the tack room like I did?” Donna stared in Edward’s face as if expecting some answers.

“No, I actually use an abandoned well out in the pear orchard. It’s in the same general vicinity.”

“Do you have to use a piece of jewelry, or draw blood?”

“I do wear a silver chain about my neck but I time my travels to coincide with the full moon. There are many ways to make the event occur. Some are more complicated than others to explain right now, but suffice it to say the main thing is the longitude upon which we are standing.”

“I have seen you out in the orchard on more than one occasion. Please continue,” Royce said.

“You all have probably heard of how lightning strikes particular places in the earth more than others? And how some people say the lightning may be attracted to iron ore in the ground? That’s part of it.”

“So there are other places on the earth that time travelers can use?”

“Yes, many of them. And in my time they are well documented. We could go into worm holes and parallel theories of the universe, but that would take quite a long time to explain and for the three of you to understand.”

“Yes, and Royce and I need to leave once and for all,” Donna spoke up.

“I am well aware of your predicament, Donna. Because I come and go at whim, I knew some things before they happened. Let’s call it history.”

“What’s the problem, Donna? I thought we would have more time to stay.” Royce looked puzzled.

“It’s the maid—she’s pregnant and she’s going to tell everyone next week that you’re the father.”

“That’s a bald-faced lie!” Royce shouted.

“Yes, it is but it’ll be your word against hers. You’ll either have to marry her or flee town.”

Royce rubbed his temples. “How did you find out?”

“I followed the maids to the outhouse and heard one tell the other. I know it’s a nasty trick she’s fixing to play on you.”

“I agree. We’ll wrap everything up tomorrow. There’s one thing I have to do before we leave, though. I want to find a preacher to marry us properly.”

Donna glanced at Royce. In her heart of hearts, she knew this was the man she wanted to spend the rest of her life with. Marriage would be the ultimate fulfillment with him. It truthfully didn’t matter what time they were in, just that they would be together. There would be no more denying her love for the man.

EPILOGUE

“Donna, have you seen the claw hammer?” Royce walked around the corner of the stables, grabbed her up by the waist and planted a quick kiss on her lips.

“Last time I saw it you were fixing the snake fence with it.” She giggled as he dropped her back on her feet. While he still had his hands around her waist, she quickly reached around him and pinched him on the bottom. They both laughed, then she watched him walk off, heading towards the driveway.

Donna adjusted the wreath on the front door of the tack room. She loved putting the finishing touches on holiday decorating, generally getting the place ready for the next group of visitors. Tomorrow a writing group would show up for their yearly retreat. They had booked the entire house for the weekend. They loved the place last year and booked reservations one year in advance. They also promised to tell all their friends about it when they got back to Chicago. Word of mouth was always the best advertising and, sure enough, their business did pick up soon afterwards.

She couldn’t believe how fast the last two years had flown by. Fallow Field had been renovated and refurbished once she and Royce got their lives on track. They had gone to Benton Harbor after leaving Fallow Field and Royce wanted a fast marriage, with matching gold bands bought en route. Donna agreed with him. Marrying him in the future would have been a headache, since he had no identification papers, Social Security number or birth certificate. She would have been agreeable to live with him without consent of marriage, but he was insistent. He wanted a proper and legal bride. She told him she could have purchased fake identification papers in the future, but that was something they hoped wouldn’t happen. She had more than enough money to pay for medical visits or future surgeries if they were needed on both of them. There were a lot of people in America who worked for cash and made their way in life without major medical plans. And if he never drew a penny of Social Security when he reached sixty-two, what of it? He was already one hundred and seventy-one years old.

Just then, Lilly came around the corner of the barn, with Moira, their first born. Donna was so glad that Royce had wanted to start a family immediately. Moira was the first of many, they hoped. She felt happy and secure in her marriage and soon-to-be growing family. Matter of fact, she might even be pregnant now. The blend of their lives had been seamless. They both loved the country and running the farm was the perfect compromise.

“How’s Moira, Miss Lilly?”

“Just fine now that we found her doll. She’s a busy little girl and she loves being out here in the country.”

Donna took Moira up in a hug and patted her head full of black curls.

“I’m so glad you decided to come with us, Lilly.” She smiled at her mother-in-law.

“I am too. I had wanted out of that marriage for a long time. I just didn’t know how to go about it. When you and Royce left, I knew it was my chance to start a new life. I’ll agree with Royce any day. He says the future is the place to be.”

About The Author

Ilena Holder is a multi-published author (books, Internet, magazines) who spent her four year Navy enlistment in Rota, Spain. Being stationed at the entrance to the Mediterranean gave her and her husband, also an Aviation Storekeeper, ample opportunities to explore Europe and northern Africa during the mid-Seventies. After their enlistments ended, they both used the G.I. Bill to further their education. Ilena’s sixth work in progress is a Navy SEAL romance and in 2010 she hopes to finish her novel centering on her twenty-nine year career in the nuclear power industry. She has been married thirty five years.

Table of Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

EPILOGUE