Timeless Moments

by Michelle Kidd

  “What have you got there?” Cindy pulled her head out of a box. Sweat matted her bangs to her forehead, despite the breeze from the open window. The guys had worked all afternoon to free the swollen frames. Her light maternity top hung limply on her protruding belly. She fanned herself with a small magazine she’d unearthed from the pile of books.

  “It’s what they call a crazy quilt. Beautiful, isn’t it?” Samantha held it out as best she could. The weight of the beads and embellishments made the quilt heavy. “They were all the rage in the Victorian and Edwardian period.”

  “My word! Those tiny stitches!” Cindy stopped fanning and waddled over for a closer inspection. “I’d touch it, but I’m filthy.”

  Samantha winced. “Yeah, I shouldn’t be touching this without gloves, either. Oil from the hands can ruin it, and it’s so old it—” Her brows furrowed in concern. “Cindy? You okay?”

  Cindy’s face flushed. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, before opening them again.

  “We should get you downstairs to rest. You don’t look well.”

  Cindy waved off her worry. “I’m fine. It’s just the heat, but it wouldn’t break my heart to get out of this room for a few minutes.”

  “To be honest, I would too. It’s far too dusty up here. What do you say we take a little water break and move this to Jack’s office where we can spread it out?”

  Cindy had the appearance of a wilted flower about to wither away in the hot sun. This was a good excuse to get her into cooler air.

  “Did someone mention a break?” Jeff set his end of the dresser down, forcing Jack to do the same. He removed his ball cap, wiped sweat from his brow, and then readjusted the hat. “I could go for something cold.”

  “Any excuse to goof off,” Jack goaded.

  “What? You haven’t heard of labor laws? You’re supposed to give us a break every couple of hours."

  Jack lifted his palms in a helpless gesture. “I’m not paying you. You’re on your own time. Besides, that shows what you know, federal law does not require that I give anything but a lunch break.”

  “Okay, you two. We’ll all take a breather.” Cindy braced her hands on the small of her back and winced. “I, for one, need to stretch my back. This heat is getting to me. Sam, can you bring the quilt?”

  Jack’s brows lifted in surprise. “Quilt?”

  “Sam found it in one of the trunks.”

  “Give me a minute to wrap it up. Do you think you guys could bring a trunk down for me?”

  “Sorry, but I’m not lifting another thing until I get a bottle of water,” Jeff interrupted.

  “What he meant to say was, which one?” Jack corrected. “Isn’t that right?”

  Jeff rolled his eyes and scratched the back of his head. “Yeah, yeah . . . Which one of these heavy suckers needs to be carted down the steps?”

  Sam flashed them both a grateful smile. “Thanks, guys. It’s over here. You’re going to love it, Jack. Once it’s restored it would be a gorgeous coffee table.”

  “I can’t believe you found someone as crazy about old stuff as you are, Jack. I can buy new for what it cost to refinish most of this junk.” Jeff flung a hand out indicating the clutter in the room.

  “But it isn’t the same, it’s—”

  “Don’t bother, Sam. You can talk until you’re blue in the face, and some people never appreciate the value of preserving the past.”

  Sam pursed her lips, too tired and hot to argue. “It’s this one. Despite what Jeff thinks, there are real treasures in there.”

  “Sure Sam. Happy to bring it down for you.”

  “Sure Sam. Happy to bring it down for you,” mimicked Jeff.

  “Real mature.” Jack gave Jeff a playful shove.

  “Uh . . . guys . . .” Cindy took a few stumbling steps, staggered, and braced herself against the wall.

  Jeff stepped to her side, sweeping her up and into his arms. “Okay, woman, we’re getting you off those feet.” He made an exaggerated stagger as if his legs would buckle, and headed for the door cradling her. “You going to make it?” His voice held a hint of teasing, but his face showed concern.

  “Yeah, yeah . . . just get me someplace cool.”

  They all trooped down the steps, Sam brought up the rear with the quilt under her arm and two little girls in tow. The air hit her sweat soaked T-shirt as they reached the bottom step. It felt like heaven. Maybe they should be doing this at night when it was cooler.

  Jeff set Cindy down and propped a pillow under her feet. “Good Lord, woman. I’d have been better off carrying the trunk.” He made several limps around the room, feigning an injured back.

  “Punch him for me, would you, Sam? I would, but I don’t have the energy.” She snatched up a magazine and fanned herself. “Such a comedian. Would you get me a glass of water since you have so much energy? And Jack, don’t just stand there—be a gentleman and fetch Sam a bottle of water too.”

  Jack chuckled. “Oh, yeah . . . she’s going to be okay. She’s back to her bossy self again.”

  Cindy winked at Sam. “Just keeping you two on your toes.”

  “Can we have lemonade like last time?” Megan asked.

  “I don’t see why not. And we can bring down that doll house for you guys to play with. Maybe you’d like to take it home if it’s okay with your mom.”

  “Oh, can we! Can we!” The girls pleaded in unison as they hopped about from parent to parent. They were obviously not as affected by the heat as the adults.

  “For goodness sake, Jack! You’ll spoil them rotten. We don’t have room to walk around in the house as it is . . . I’m going to have to say no this time. Why don’t you leave it here, and they’ll have something to play with when they visit?”

  “Aww!” The disappointed girls chorused in two-part harmony.

  “Besides, you may want to save it. Who knows? You may have girls of your own someday.” Cindy gave a knowing glance to Sam and then back to Jack.

  Samantha felt her cheeks glow pink. Mercy. Had the air stopped working?

  “Come on, you two. Let’s see what Uncle Jack can find.” He held out a hand, and the two skipped alongside him to the kitchen.

  Twenty minutes later the lethargic group remained, still reluctant to leave the comfort of the air-conditioned room. The girls, seated on the floor, amused themselves by rubbing the cat as she lay contently purring on her side. Samantha and Cindy studied the detailed stitches involved in the quilt while Jack and Jeff sat with their backs to the wall downing their third bottle of water.

  “It must take years to do something like this,” Cindy commented. “I would love to learn, but I don’t think I have the patience.”

  Their mother’s interest caused the girls to abandon the cat and amble over to investigate what all the fuss was about. Amanda reached out to touch the quilt. “Ooh . . . see the spiderweb? That spider is made out of beads.”

  “Don’t touch!” Her mother intercepted her sticky hand, covered in cat fur. “Look with your eyes, not your hands. It’s very old and delicate.”

  “Amanda, did you know almost all Victorian crazy quilts have a spider’s web hidden somewhere on them? Some have more than one. They were thought to bring good luck!” Sam knelt so she was eye level with the small girl.

  “Cool. I like that kind of spider.”

  “Wait until you see the dresses I found.” Sam turned to Cindy. “Just unbelievable.”

  “That’s right, you boys haven’t brought that trunk down for Sam.”

  “I told you, she’s worse than I am,” Jack commented. “Come on, old man. Break’s over . . . no rest for the weary.”

  “Don’t forget this was all your idea.”

  “Yeah, yeah . . .”

  *****

  Once the chest was down, Samantha felt like a child at Christmas. Gloves would be better handling these old garments, but she found she couldn’t wait. A thorough job of washing would have to do. Without hesitation, she flipped open the latch and searched thro
ugh the chest again.

  She extracted a pretty metal belt with several jewel-like trinkets suspended from the central piece. “I’ve only seen these in books.”

  “What is it?” Cindy asked.

  “It’s a chatelaine, the word means ‘Lady of the Castle.’ It was a status symbol. You see these things hanging here?” She pointed to the items. “They are scissors, a two-and-a-half-inch pad and pen, thimble, tiny perfume bottle and stopper, small sewing kit. These were worn by the lady of the house.” She set the item aside and continued to browse through the contents.

  “Would you look at all those pearls on this dress? It’s incredible they could walk. And these boots . . . can you imagine having to lace those every morning. No wonder they had maids.” Cindy laughed as she held up the tiny footwear.

  But Samantha wasn’t listening. She’d stopped and remained motionless as shock caused her lunch to shift inside her stomach. She grabbed the precious items, bringing them to her chest. Of course!

  “Sam, you okay? What is it?” Jack asked.

  She didn’t answer for several seconds, then, turned to him. “This.” She held out several white lacy squares.

  His face registered recognition at once. They were identical to the handkerchief he’d picked up from Jewel. They all had the initials JW embroidered in the corner.

  “I don’t understand. What’s going on?” Cindy’s voice cut through Sam’s shock.

  Jack’s eyes met hers as they tried to acknowledge the trunk’s significance.

  “Okay, you two . . . what’s going on? You both look as if you’ve just seen a ghost.” Cindy demanded. “What gives?”

  “Cindy . . . you’d never believe us if we told you . . .”

  Chapter 31

  With a rag in one hand and furniture polish in the other, Addie tackled the panels of the dining room wall. The lemon-scented air infused the area, bringing a measure of comfort with its sweet clean fragrance. How she loved her Old English Wax. She wished it would permanently rid this house from the odor of discord that permeated throughout.

  She moved the rag in small, circular motions until she saw a soft reflection of herself in the wood’s gleaming finish. Some things took a little finesse, like knowing how to coax the shine from old wood.

  With a tilt of her head, she stood back and admired the work. Sometimes her own persuasive skills amazed her, although she still wasn’t sure how she’d convinced Dr. Wiltshire to allow Miss Jewel out the locked tower.

  You can’t take credit for that, she corrected. Surely the Almighty must have had a hand in it. And shame on you for trying to steal the Lord’s glory! Pride comes before a fall, she admonished.

  Goodness knew she didn’t need to go inciting the Lord’s wrath. Despite the doctor’s happy-go-lucky attitude, the situation in the house remained dangerous, perhaps more so. The persistent singing and whistling were more unsettling than his previous somber scowling.

  Addie scooped a dimes worth of polish onto the rag and moved to the next panel. Her hands might be busy, but her attention was free to focus on the problem at hand. This situation warranted wisdom and prayer. This was a tragedy in the making. She refused to sit still waiting for it to happen. Whatever the cost, the moment had arrived to take the situation to task. The words from the book of Esther sprang to mind . . . who knows but that you have come to your position for such a time as this . . .

  Clearly, she’d been planted here for a reason. As she saw it, she may be the only person available to help the poor girl. The sooner she could wean the tonic away from her, the better. Then they would go to the authorities—together. Without Miss Jewel, who would believe her?

  For if you remain silent at this time, relief and deliverance will arise from another place. Again, the words of Esther haunted her. Lord forbid she should take the verses out of context. She wasn’t Queen Esther, and she wasn’t saving the Jewish nation. But perhaps she was the Lord’s instrument for making the way. “Jesus, give me courage,” she whispered. Addie closed her eyes and pictured her husband. “And Rupert, you watch over me too. I need all the extra eyes I can get.”

  Addie felt the crushing weight of responsibility upon her shoulders. Two lives depended on her, and it hinged on eliminating the drug from the young girl’s system. No easy task, she huffed. She’d sooner waltz with a walrus.

  Removing someone from the prescription too soon might put them in danger. Her own aunt had gone into withdrawal and died. Even a layman such as herself recognized you didn’t do that.

  Providence must have smiled down on her the day Dr. Wiltshire turned over control of the medicine. She still administered it as he prescribed, but only she and Jesus knew she’d watered down the mixture. Over a period of weeks, she’d given Miss Jewel a lesser amount of laudanum and increased the water she added. It was a risky prospect. Some days Miss Jewel flew into fits of rage and stormed around the room. Addie would have no choice but to make adjustments. As time passed, she’d grown more lucid, capable of carrying out simple conversations. As her mental awareness improved, so did her appetite. Her cheeks appeared less gaunt.

  Addie glanced up the clock and winced. She’d need to hurry or she’d be late preparing the medicine. Without further delay, she tucked the rag into her waistband, hurried to the kitchen, and retrieved the bottle from her apron. She added a quarter-inch more water to the mixture, praying it would be enough to fool Miss Jewel’s addicted system. She returned the cork stopper, gave it a firm shake, and then slipped it back into her pocket.

  Stew rolled inside the large kettle she’d prepared earlier. The aroma of chicken, rice, peas, and carrots blended into a smell she hoped might entice the young woman to eat. She ladled the hearty soup into a bowl with a heavy hand and headed to the dining room.

  She found Miss Jewel sitting at the elongated table, looking like a fragile porcelain doll. Addie resisted the urge to grab her mistress and rush her out the front door to safety. Instead, she set the soup on the table, squared her shoulders, and determined to stick with her plan. Miss Jewel would never leave on her own accord, not yet. She was still under the spell of the doctor and the effects of the drug. Unsure of Miss Jewel’s thoughts, she refused to take the chance the young misses might slip up and say something to cause Dr. Wiltshire to become suspicious.

  “You’re looking well this afternoon, miss.”

  Her lips curved in a pretty smile. “Thank you, I’m better. Although I can’t say I’m very hungry.”

  Addie gave her a sympathetic pat. “I understand but do try to eat. If not for yourself, for the baby.”

  “Baby,” Jewel repeated. She offered a tinkling laugh. “Why . . . it doesn’t seem possible—I’m not as big as a minute . . .”

  “Yes, ma’am, that’s why you can’t afford to skip meals. You want the wee one to be healthy don’t you? Just imagine . . . a beautiful girl with your hair and eyes.”

  “Might be a boy.” She blinked and frowned. “I shouldn’t think I’d want a boy. What if . . .” but she didn’t finish. Instead, she nibbled her lip.

  Addie patted her. “Don’t worry, miss. The darling will be strong and fit. No matter what, you’ll love it—”

  “Addie?”

  “Miss?”

  “I am better, aren’t I? Hunsdon tells me that I must get well . . . that if I don’t do as he says they’ll take the baby. They’ll put me away, and I’ll never see my child.” Her voice caught as a tear slipped down her cheek. “But I don’t want to be good. Sometimes I feel terribly wicked.”

  “Wicked? How so?”

  “I . . .” She wavered, licking her lips. “Mustn’t tell . . .”

  “Tell what?” Addie squashed her impatience. The poor girl sat wringing her handkerchief. Her chin worked with nervous energy. Several times she opened her mouth on the verge of speaking only to snap it shut. Addie read distrust in her eyes. And who’d blame her? After all, she’d kept her locked away all those months. “Miss Jewel, you’re much better. I’m sorry we kept you in that
horrible room. If I could change . . .”

  “It isn’t your fault, Addie. I . . . it’s my mistake. Hunsdon says . . .” She shook her head. “It’s hard to distinguish what’s real anymore.”

  “Yes, ma’am. I understand. There are a lot of things in this house that seem . . . real, but aren’t. Things that seem impossible . . . but are . . .” Oh, how she wanted to lay everything out on the table and stop talking in silly riddles, but not yet. If she moved too fast in Miss Jewel’s delicate state . . . better to wait. “Do you understand what I’m saying?”

  “I’m trying.”

  “You’re doing just fine. I promise things will get clearer. You still reading your Bible? That’s always a good place to start.”

  Jewel smiled and nodded. “That’s what my father used to say.”

  “Your father used to say what, my dear?”

  Two heads swiveled at the sound of Hunsdon’s voice. He’d entered the dining room. Goodness knew how long he’d been standing there. The man was like a ghost.

  Addie noted the change in the younger woman’s demeanor at once. She almost heard the gears clicking in her brain, as she focused all her attention on the soup. And what wonder—Land's sake, the man’s presence sent her own nerves on edge. She rushed to fill the awkward silence.

  “Miss Jewel just told me that her father used to say the Bible was the best place to find the truth.”

  “Indeed.”

  A very different Jewel from moments before spoke. She seemed flustered. “Is it evening already? You’re home from work. I—” She yawned.

  “No, my dear.” He patted her hand and answered with all the patience a father would give to a toddler. “I left a file on my desk, and it was so close to lunchtime that I decided to return home. It’s been a while since we’ve enjoyed a midafternoon meal together.” He turned to Addie. “Have you given Mrs. Wiltshire her medicine yet?”

  The bottle weighed accusingly against her thigh. Her mind turned over her deception and consequences if she should get caught. “Not—”

  “Yes!” Jewel rushed to answer for her. “Right before lunch . . . I’m . . . sorry.” She stifled another yawn. “But I’d thought to take a nap after I ate. I’m afraid I’m not very hungry. I’d like to lie down.” Focused and alert moments earlier, now her eyes drifted to some distant place. Her head bobbed.