by Dana Roquet
Oh my god, I thought silently and tried not to audibly gulp as I experienced a not at all unpleasant, internal clenching of my guts as I took a real good look at Dave’s face with the sinking sun lighting his eyes like twin brilliant sapphire gemstones. I’d forgotten just how unbelievably handsome he is. He had an attractive dark shadow of late-day stubble on his lean sun-darkened face and I was having a visceral and very inappropriate desire to reach up and run my fingertips over that plush along his strong jawline to discover if it was as soft as it looked. I was enjoying the scenery a little too long, I decided and coming from my trance, cleared my throat that was all at once parched.
“All right then I’ll see you two Saturdays from now, I guess,” I managed to say, while thinking that if I wasn’t such a weirdo and so obsessed with my house, I could actually be sociable and invite him over for dinner sometime. Instead, I gave his forearm a friendly squeeze in farewell and turned away, hurrying to my vehicle.
“You need therapy woman. Big time!” I muttered under my breath as I hurried away, disgusted with myself.
***
Dave Cameron stood in the parking lot of the busy Walmart store watching the woman of his dreams drive off into the sunset. As she glanced back at him and waved, he raised his hand in answer before turning for his truck.
“Smooth move, Romeo! Jesus, make a date with her two freakin’ weeks from now. Just stellar! Good work, Cameron!” he grumbled, berating himself as he climbed in and slammed the door. He knew that she was single now because Char had provided him with that information a few days ago but instead of being a man and taking a chance, he’d played it safe.
He pulled onto the highway heading back to the project in Ottumwa and without the nearly painful distraction of having Torie standing so close, right before his eyes, he could think more clearly and he decided not to beat himself up about it. The window for romance with Torie Mills had closed, if there ever had been such a window. His mind kept going back to that street dance and the passion that she had shown to him—but he was just deluding himself. It would never be more than friendship between them now and even if the date to the fair really did come to pass, he was positive that it would be nothing more than a totally platonic day, spent with a good friend.
Chapter 20
When I got home from the store, I tried to be very scientific about my plan to study the view of my time warp experience from the outside. I tacked a wall calendar up above my bed with today’s date circled in black marker; I put the camera on the tripod facing the bed, and adjusted the angle until the entire queen-sized bed, the calendar, and the digital clock on my nightstand were all visible through the eyepiece. I hooked the camera up to an outlet rather than charging and using battery power because I wasn’t at all sure that even a fully charged battery would have enough juice to last until the end of the travel.
Generally, I’d been going to bed around ten or eleven and assuming that I will wake up in the morning at or around eight or nine, I should have more than enough memory space on the card. I was so curious to see what I do during these episodes, if anything at all or to confirm that I simply lay in bed sleeping. I only hoped that I’d be able to relax enough to get to sleep this night.
***
It’s always very confusing when I arrive in a time warp. The first few minutes are simply a matter of trying to figure out who I am, where I am, who I’m with and then trying to wing it as I join whatever experience I’ve arrived in the middle of. I’ve gotten pretty good at just accepting that I am whoever I inhabit and simply becoming that woman or girl. This time travel began as a bit of a challenge because I found myself in a huge crowd of people filling, what I recognized right away to be the front room of Grandpa Henry’s farmhouse, and all of those present in the room were standing about, looking at and smiling at me.
Never knowing who I am until I can figure it out by the clues around me, unless I’m lucky enough to have a mirror or glass window handy, I always must do a bit of detective work to determine who I am and this time was no different. That is, except for the audience of onlookers watching my every move because I seemed to be the center of the attention and I felt a prickle of perspiration pop out on my forehead as I felt the pressure of possibly failing to fit in and that would be, at the very least, extremely embarrassing. So as a merciful breath of air drifted through the room from a west facing screened window, cooling my heated, flushed face, I took a deep cleansing breath in an attempt to calm myself and instructed myself silently but firmly, Take it one moment at a time, and do ‘not’ get flustered.
It worked and I felt myself settling into this extreme time travel challenge, determined to get to the bottom of this. So, okay, I began to internally break it down, I’m standing in what appears to be some kind of a reception line and my right hand is tucked into the crook of a man’s elbow. I looked up at him now and saw that it was Wyatt Mills, who is my granduncle Wyatt and an older brother to my grandpa Arlan.
Okay, this is a little odd, I thought, but maybe I‘m Great-Grandma Alice. It wouldn’t be at all unheard of for a son to be offering his arm to his mother. I glanced down at my free left hand and noted the thin gold wedding band and the young unmarred skin before surveying the delicate white silk of the long-sleeved blouse and floor length skirt I was wearing which were all hand-beaded with sparkling clear glass brilliants woven around the wrists of the blouse. I knew that I’d seen the outfit before in a photograph and it all came together in a flash and I knew with certainty that I must be my grandaunt Jennie Andersen Mills, and this must surely be her and Wyatt’s wedding day.
“I wish you nothing but happiness,” a voice was saying close at hand and I became aware of the hum of conversation in the room.
I looked at the young woman who’d approached me with her curly-brown hair pulled up into a lovely bun at the crown of her head and I lost all my nervousness at once as I accepted her hand in greeting. She was my frequent and most beloved of warp buddies, my grandaunt Lucy Mills, Wyatt’s sister.
“Oh Lucy, thank you so very much,” I said.
“We are sisters now, you and I,” she said excitedly.
“Yes, what fun we shall have together,” I agreed with a light squeeze of her fingers before releasing her. She moved to stand before her brother at my side, looking up at him with an impish grin.
“Wyatt, my wish for you as well, dear brother,” she said sweetly and I glanced up at Wyatt and saw a wide grin on his happy face as he leaned down to accept a light kiss upon his cheek from Lucy.
“Thank you, kiddo,” he replied with affection, straightening back up tall.
Oh my, he’s a good-looking man, I marveled silently, admiring him. It came to me all at once, that with his hair combed back, glossy smooth and chocolaty-dark brown and with his piercing dark eyes, high cheekbones and firm jawline—that he looked exactly like Christian Slater, but a really young Christian Slater like in that movie Heathers or maybe Untamed Heart.
I have a couple of wonderful photographs of Granduncle Wyatt Mills in my genealogy file at this age including he and Jennie’s official wedding tintype that would have been taken at some point on this day, with him looking very dapper in this dark-gray serge suit and waistcoat, with a stiff white collared dress shirt and a gray-and-white-striped bow tie. Just gorgeous, I thought as I smiled up at him, his face flushed with happiness and hopes for the future. Sadly, I already know what the future will hold for dear Granduncle Wyatt; that he will die at the age of thirty-four, from a bout of influenza, only about fifteen years from this day, that he and Jennie will never have children and that Jennie will go on to marry again and have a forty year marriage and two sons with her second husband.
Turning my mind from these sad truths, I continued my detective work regarding this current time travel experience. I know that Wyatt and Jennie were born, one year apart but shared the same birth date, and that they’d chosen to marry on that same date as well, making the occasion triply special. With this knowledge I now knew
, without doubt, that today would be June 9, 1912.
I surveyed the front room of Great-Grandfather Henry Mills’s farmhouse and the array of people gathered for the event. The room was filled to brimming with relatives and townsfolk and there was so much warm regard and laughter all around because people really relished these occasions, every bit as much as we do nowadays, perhaps even more so because it was a harder time of living back then and events such as weddings were appropriately savored. It seemed curious that this reception was being held at the groom’s family home, but Great-Grandpa Henry, having one of the most sprawling of homesteads and being one of the wealthier men in the area, probably felt that he could afford it more readily than Jennie’s less prosperous family. Another thought occurred to me, which was that at this moment in 1912, Henry and Alice were only about five years from their retirement from farming and the big move to the ‘in town’ house.
The line of well-wishers came to an end, and Wyatt patted my hand and lifted it to his lips for a gentle kiss.
“Well, we survived it,” he said and chuckled softly. “I love you, Jennie.”
“I love you,” I responded automatically while looking up into his lovely dark-brown eyes as he bent to place a gentle kiss upon my lips. He smelled pleasantly of a faint whiff of shaving soap and of clean starched linen, a sweet fruity taste on his lips, perhaps some kind of punch but definitely a non-alcoholic drink and also a slight tinge of nervous but clean perspiration. Wyatt’s lips retreated and he grinned down at me when those close by in the room, some of them younger men, began clearing their throats exaggeratedly, while others whistled in appreciation of Wyatt’s taking full advantage of his new husbandly rights while the women in the room cooed and sighed over the romantic gesture.
“We’d best make our way outside for dinner,” Grandpa Henry suggested approaching and giving me a light kiss upon the cheek and clasping Wyatt’s shoulder in a squeeze of affection. “Wyatt and Jennie, if you would please lead the way.”
I was not sure of what awaited us or where the dinner was set out so I took Wyatt’s arm again and allowed him to lead me out of the front door and I was in awe of what we beheld. The front lawn had been bedecked for the reception with several rows of picnic tables arrayed with wonderful, formal place settings of fine china on white embroidered tablecloths. The scene was canopied by the towering burr oak trees that shaded the clipped lawn and a fire was crackling at the far side of the yard; with a roasted pig being turned on a spit over the low flames and minded by one of Henry’s farm hands. Great-Grandma Alice Wyman Mills and daughters were assembled before a couple of banquet tables displaying a variety of food dishes and were ready to attend to all of the guests, as were Jennie’s mother and sisters.
Wyatt led me to the head table where we were seated and waited to be served, making small talk with each other until the guests were all sorted out and seated. I paused in responding to a question from Wyatt as our water glasses were being filled by a young girl, and I automatically glanced up to thank her as she poured, and stopped, blinking up at her nonplussed as I realized that it was Hannah Andersen, Jennie’s little sister. I quickly did the calculation in my head and realized that this lovely child would be gone just three short years from this time at the age of sixteen-years-old and from a sudden attack of appendicitis. The family had had no way to get her to any hospital setting in 1915 and even if they would have been able to, surgery in 1915 had still primitive. More people than not died as a result of either the operation itself or, in the case of a ruptured appendix and without antibiotics yet in existence to fight the resulting infection that quickly spread throughout the body, died within days nonetheless.
“You’re welcome,” Hannah said with a sweet smile and impulsively, I turned in my seat and reached up to pull her down into my arms and gave her a warm embrace.
“Oh, Hannah, I love you,” I whispered into her ear, stroking her flaxen hair, which was loose and flowing down her back. She placed the pitcher on the table and hugged me to her, as well.
“I love you, Jennie. I’ll miss you tonight. The room will seem so empty without you,” she said.
Everything that I knew of Hannah Andersen had been gained from the newspaper articles written regarding her sad and painful death. She had been much loved by everyone in Fremont and greatly mourned by her classmates at Fremont High School.
I have in my possession in the real world, a single photograph of Hannah, a lock of her pale-blonde hair, a bit of ivory lace from her casket shroud, and pressed flowers from her funeral that I’d received from a woman named Jean who lives in Kansas. It was another of those odd occurrences that had happened as a result of my genealogy fetish and the memorials that I’d created for those buried in Cedar Township Cemetery.
The woman had found herself in possession of Hannah’s remembrance by default when the last member of the Andersen line, a James Andersen had died. He had been married to Jean’s, now deceased second cousin who had also died with no close family and so Jean had ended up inheriting a small box containing her effects and that box had included the remembrance of Hannah. Having no blood or family link to Hannah, Jean had contacted me in hopes that I might accept the items and, of course, I had jumped at the chance to keep them in my care. Now I had the living, breathing young girl in my arms, and it was a beautiful moment. I hugged her tight once more and placed a kiss upon her petal soft cheek.
“Hannah, I’ll see you often,” I said and released her to resume her duties, without any idea as to whether my statement were true or not.
As I watched Hannah walk across the yard to continue serving the wedding guests, I pondered that I didn’t even know where the Andersen family had lived. I did know that Wyatt and Jennie had bought a farm from my great-grandpa Henry and that the house was situated just across the road from Henry’s farm; I could see it now through a screen of poplar trees that edged the yard. I also knew, gleaned from their wedding announcement that had appeared in the Fremont Gazette, that Wyatt and Jennie had set up housekeeping and moved right into their new home on the day of their wedding, so I would be seeing the inside of that house this night, if the time warp were to last long enough.
***
After dinner, the yard was growing dark, and several lanterns were lit and campfires started as the people continued their merrymaking until well after the last rays of the sun had faded away. Wyatt was very attentive to me and he was so romantic and kept whispering sweet words into my ear about the night to come. He’d actually made me blush with some of the things that he’d said that he intended to do to me once he had me to himself and all I kept thinking was Oh, I really need to warp out of here!
As the hours ticked by and we meandered around the yard sharing conversations with family and friends, I began to get more than a little panicked because this warp seemed as if it were lasting awfully long. I kept thinking, this must end soon, but as the fires died down, the crowd took up lanterns and then a formal procession was formed and Wyatt took my hand in the crook of his arm and escorted me out of the driveway and toward the house on the other side of the road. It was then that I realized, with a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach, that I was about to spend Jennie’s wedding night with Wyatt Mills and it didn’t seem as though I was going to warp out of here! Oh shit!
I tried to keep my cool as the gathering of people sang an old song that I’d heard before; in fact, I thought that I remembered it from an old movie. “I Love You Truly” was the tune and as the crowd serenaded us, we stood, arm in arm, on the front porch of our new home and waited for the song to come to an end. When it did come to an end, the crowd just stood there and stood there, until Wyatt figured out what the holdup was. He opened the front door of the house and gallantly swept me off of my feet and into his arms and carried me over the threshold to the uproarious cheers of family and friends.
Wyatt set me onto my own two feet just inside the front room as the applause began to die down and we stood together watching as the throng di
spersed back across the road to continue their partying, leaving Wyatt and I to our own devices. Wyatt turned to me with a chuckle as he closed the door on the scene and he leaned back against the door, observing me quietly, with a smoldering look in his eyes that was as easy to read a hundred years ago, as it is today.
I’m in trouble, was my first thought and my second thought was, what on earth am I supposed to do? I couldn’t very well tell him that I have a headache or some such foolishness because this was important! This could make or break their marriage and I really had no idea of the far-reaching effects of these time warps. I didn’t have a manual of do’s and don’ts! Oh I would give ‘anything’ for a manual right now! I thought longingly.
Wyatt approached me and slipped his arms around my waist, and then his mouth engulfed mine in a kiss that took my breath away. He held me close in his arms and his hands moved possessively over my backside, squeezing my rear as he ground his expanding hardness against my belly. With no knowledge of what they’d experienced together up to this time, I had no idea what my reaction or level of expertise should be. Had we already consummated the relationship before? Was I a virgin? I knew that I was about to give the performance of my lifetime as Wyatt lifted me into his arms again and carried me through the darkened house to the bedroom which was alight with the warm glow of several candles, revealing a bed invitingly turned down and the window coverings drawn down tight.
Chapter 21
I came awake with an urgent need to dash to the bathroom. I was terribly thirsty and hungry and even without looking at a clock, I knew that I had been gone for probably at least ten hours. After I’d washed my hands and then cupped them under the faucet and drank deeply to slake my thirst, I looked up into the vanity mirror surveying my appearance and decided that I looked well rested and actually I felt rather well rested. I smoothed the auburn bedhead hairdo I had going on and suddenly my thoughts went back over the night’s sleep or lack of it. Wyatt! I remembered suddenly, the wedding—and then it all came flooding back to me. I felt a flush rush up my neck and butterflies flitter wildly inside my stomach thinking about what I’d been witness to and had participated in. I covered my face in horror and with mortified embarrassment.
