Window on Yesterday

by Joan Hohl

  “Oh! No!” the woman exclaimed in an alarmed tone. “Alice, please do not sit up!”

  “Why not?” Alycia muttered, wishing the woman would stop calling her Alice.

  “ ‘Tis beneficial to rest upon receiving a blow to the head,” the man replied in a soothing if pompous tone.

  ‘Tis? Again? Really, Alycia thought, these people were carrying the act too... Oh, dear God! The pain! The world seemed to spin out of control, whirling like a carousel in ever diminishing circles. Alycia’s eyes widened. The light. It hurt. It was too bright.

  Sean!

  * * * *

  This time when Alycia regained consciousness it was to the delicious feeling of resting on something soft. She immediately realized that the jolting motion and the accompanying rattle, clatter, and clip-clop had ceased.

  The silence was beautiful, as was the cool, moist cloth covering her forehead and eyes. As a matter of fact, Alycia mused, she felt wonderfully cool all over. With the return of full awareness came the bolstering realization that the pain in her head had subsided to a dull ache. Now life might be bearable again, she decided wryly, if only she knew where she was and how she’d arrived here.

  Alycia had a clear memory of the uncomfortable coach and her friendly if rather odd traveling companions. But not for an instant could she believe that she had traversed the distance between Richmond and Williamsburg in that horrendous contraption. Thinking about the coach brought thoughtful concern for her car.

  What had happened to her car after the accident? Had it been completely demolished? she wondered, sighing for the probable loss of the compact. She had liked the little car with its neat hatchback.

  Hatchback! Alycia moved restlessly. Her luggage had been in the hatchback. What of her suitcases, her clothes, her makeup? She had packed her best clothing for the trip, including two brand-new outfits she’d had to scrimp and save for all winter! Lord, if the luggage had been lost, it would take her a year to replace the contents, never mind the suitcases themselves. Then came the thought of her handbag. Where was it? Her credit cards and all her money were in her purse!

  Suddenly frantic, Alycia clutched at the cloth on her forehead and moved to get up. Her abrupt action sent an agonizing shaft of pain through her head. Moaning, she slumped back against what she now recognized was a down pillow at the head of a rather large bed. Slowly, her gasps for breath eased to a steady breathing pattern. Drowsiness crept over her as the pain lessened. She was so tired, so very tired. Within moments her breathing deepened and Alycia drifted off into a sound, natural sleep.

  While she slept, Alycia dreamed she was being pushed and tugged in different directions. She cried out for Sean, begging him to make whoever was tormenting her stop yanking at her.

  The low, faraway sound of Sean’s beloved voice reached her in the depths of exhausted slumber. “It’s all right, love, I’m here. I’m with you. I’ll always be with you.”

  The tugging and pulling mercifully ceased, and Alycia gratefully plunged into the well of undisturbed sleep once more. But a hint of the dream urged her into wakefulness.

  Sean! His name leaped into Alycia’s mind before she was fully awake. Sean didn’t know, couldn’t know, about the accident! She had to phone him immediately! Tearing the soothing cloth from her brow, Alycia flung her legs over the edge of the wide bed and stood up. She remained upright for all of five seconds. Then she crashed to the floor like a felled tree. She was sobbing harshly and cursing under her breath when the bedroom door was flung open and someone rushed into the room.

  “Alice!” The voice belonged to the woman in the coach. “What have you done to yourself, my child?” As the woman dropped to her knees beside her, Alycia heard her call out, “Lettie! Come quickly!”

  “I’m ... all right,” Alycia tried to assure the woman between gulping sobs. “Just... just help me to get up, please.”

  “You are most certainly not all right,” the woman scolded her in a gentle voice. “You suffered a blow to the head in that dreadful collision,” she continued, circling Alycia’s trembling shoulders with one plump arm. “I would that you had remained abed.” Alycia opened her mouth to protest being treated like an invalid, but the woman spoke before she could utter the first word. “Ahh, there you are, Lettie. Come, girl, help me to get my niece back into bed.”

  Her niece? Alycia’s senses swirled. Dizzy and disoriented, she barely heard the soft but decidedly feminine reply. “Yes, ma’am.”

  Feeling completely drained, Alycia was of little help as the two women struggled to lift her from the floor and onto the bed. When the transfer was finally made, she sank into the soft mattress with a heartfelt murmur of thanks. Still light-headed, yet determined to look at her benefactress, Alycia opened her eyes and offered the woman a tremulous smile.

  “You are most welcome, niece.” The plump woman smiled back. “Not only for the meager service I could give you but in this house as well.” Bending to her, the woman patted Alycia’s hand. “You must rest.”

  “I’m hungry,” Alycia blurted out when her stomach growled a demand for sustenance.

  “But that is wonderful!” The woman beamed at Alycia. “I will see to a repast for you at once.” Her long skirts swished musically as, spinning away, she headed for the door. “Come, Lettie, I’llhave need for you to carry the tray.”

  As the two women left the room, Alycia noticed that Lettie, who was black, was dressed like an eighteenth-century house servant.

  How odd, she mused muzzily, wriggling into a more comfortable position on the soft mattress. But, if little else was clear in her mind, Alycia was convinced she had definitely arrived at her intended destination. A confused but dreamy smile tilting her lips, Alycia let her mind wander to her previous visits to the restored area.

  On Alycia’s first visit, she had been enchanted to discover that the structures of Williamsburg had been carefully restored to what they had looked like in Colonial times and that the people—guides, merchants, carriage drivers, and numerous others—were dressed in the attire of the period. They were all also fluent in the language usage prevalent at the time.

  Still, on reflection, Alycia couldn’t help thinking that the people she had met were carrying the torch of recreation just a mite too high, considering her accident and injuries and everything. One would think, she reasoned, they would have dropped the act and rushed her to a hospital.

  Shrugging off the strange behavior of her newfound friends, Alycia tentatively moved her head and opened her eyes. She was immediately delighted by two discoveries, the first and foremost being that the pain in her head was just about gone. The second was that she was in a large bedroom decorated in a conglomeration of lovely furniture from several historical periods.

  Alycia’s gaze lingered on an exquisite Queen Anne secretary before drifting to a matching cherry-wood dresser and highboy. There was a delicate chair, obviously French, placed by a beautiful spindle-legged Chippendale table. But what filled Alycia with the most delight was the bed she was lying in. An imposing four-poster, it was intricately, lovingly carved of deep red mahogany, and as lovingly cared for.

  Pursing her lips, Alycia glanced around in bemusement. Never on any of her previous visits to the Williamsburg Inn had she occupied such a large, richly furnished room. The rooms at the inn were lovely, but this ... Alycia frowned slightly. This room resembled the bedchambers in the large, opulent plantation mansions located along the James River.

  Pondering the strangeness of everything that had happened since she had initially regained consciousness, Alycia casually glanced down at herself. Her frown deepened as she examined the handmade sheer cotton nightgown—or night rail, to use the historically correct term—that she was wearing. Sighing, she fingered the soft material.

  Alycia marveled in exasperation. Really, she thought, this was pushing the act to the outer edge of enough. She had packed a perfectly good, not to mention comfortable, nightshirt in her suitcase and ... Her suitcase! Alycia bolted uprigh
t in the bed, wincing as a warning shaft of pain streaked through her.

  Easy does it, she advised herself, moving cautiously as she sent her glance on a more thorough inspection of the room, hoping against hope to discover her suitcases stacked out of the way in a corner. Disappointment sank like a stone inside her when the single object she found in one corner was a beautifully beveled standing mirror.

  Shoulders drooping, Alycia sat staring into middle distance, silently asking questions for which she had no answers. Her expression of bafflement gradually changed to one of contemplation as middle distance telescoped on one of two undraped windows. Beyond the panes, Alycia could see an expanse of blue sky. As if impelled by a force she couldn’t resist, she very carefully slipped from the bed. Steadying herself by grasping on to pieces of furniture as she went, Alycia walked cautiously to the window. She was wet with perspiration and breathing raggedly by the time she slowly sank onto the deep windowsill. As she stared out the window her eyes grew wide with confused surprise.

  The view from the window was not of the surroundings around the Williamsburg Inn. Instead, her wide eyes gazed out at broad terraced lawns, gently descending to the banks of a river. On her last visit to the restored area, Alycia had taken a side tour of Carter’s Grove plantation. The scene her dulled eyes were now staring at was very similar to the one she had looked on with such delight from the great hall on the first floor of that beautiful mansion.

  Sagging forward, Alycia rested her head against the window. Nothing made sense, nothing. If she was not in the restored area of Williamsburg, where was she? Blinking, she refocused on the pastoral scene of gently sloping green lawns and tall leafy trees.

  Green lawns. Leafy trees. Alycia moaned. She had never been to Virginia in March. Did spring always come this early? Even as the query formed in her mind, Alycia heard an echo of Karla’s voice from earlier that week as she repeated the radio deejay’s report that the snowstorm had blasted most of the eastern seaboard.

  But how could that be? Alycia thought with a growing sense of panic and shock. The sunlight sparkled off the river. The wide, spreading tree branches created dark pools of shade on the summer-green grass. And it was hot!

  Enmeshed within the tangle of her own thoughts, Alycia was only vaguely aware of the bedroom door opening. Her body jerked violently at the sound of Lettie’s voice.

  “Miss Alice, you should not be out of bed!”

  Gathering her wildly scattering thoughts, Alycia drew a deep breath and said, “I... I’m afraid the accident has left me a little confused, Lettie. I seem to have forgotten the date.”

  “Why, ‘tis the ninth day of August, Miss Alice,” Lettie said with soft compassion.

  Alycia swallowed to dislodge the growing lump of fear in her throat. She could hear the woman moving around behind her, yet she hesitated to turn and face her. But Alycia knew she had to ask one more question. She had to have the answer.

  “And ... and the year?” Alycia held her breath.

  “Oh, Miss Alice,” Lettie murmured, “surely you remember that it is the year of our Lord 1777?”

  * * *

  Chapter 7

  Alycia’s first impulse was to laugh,1777 indeed! Her expression wry, she turned on the window seat to face Lettie, fully expecting to find the woman laughing at her own joke. Only Lettie wasn’t laughing; she wasn’t even smiling. Her dark eyes were riveted to Alycia’s face; her expression revealed alarm.

  “Mistress Alice, I do think you should come back to the bed,” she said slowly, setting a tray on the Chippendale table. “I have brought a nice breakfast for you.”

  Feeling an unnatural weakness, Alycia remained where she was, the back of her head resting against the window. Her appetite had vanished. The impulse to laugh had passed and had been replaced by an even stronger urge to cry. Catching her lower lip between her teeth to repress the tears, she stared at Lettie, her gaze moving slowly as she studied the woman’s apparel.

  Lettie was wearing a long-sleeved top made of dark cotton. Her skirt was made of a heavier material and fell to an inch above the floor. A white kerchief of finer cotton was draped around her shoulders like a shawl; the wide tails crossed over her breasts and were fastened at her back. A long light-colored apron was tied about her waist and hung almost to the hem of her skirt. A white cap covered the back of her head. The toes of coarse leather shoes peeped out from beneath the hem of her skirt. All together, Lettie’s clothes had a lived-in, genuine look.

  Alycia started when the woman spoke.

  “Are you feeling unwell, Mistress Alice?”

  You’re dreaming, Alycia told herself, shaking her head in answer to Lettie’s question. Her motion caused a sharp flare of pain, reminding her of her injury. That’s it! Of course that’s it, she reassured herself. It’s all a vivid, realistic dream. You’ll wake up any minute. Stay calm. It’s all a dream. Alycia was unaware that the tears had escaped from behind her eyelids and were rolling down her face.

  “Mistress Alice!”

  Alycia heard Lettie’s voice as if from a great distance. She didn’t want to hear Lettie’s voice. She wanted to wake up. She wanted to be at home. She wanted Sean. She needed to hear Sean’s voice.

  Sean’s voice! Alycia choked on a bubble of laughter born of encroaching hysteria. She had thought to phone him to tell him about the accident! How very funny, she thought, getting to her feet like an automaton when she felt an arm slip around her waist. It was really very funny. There were no phones! Besides, even if there were, Alycia was certain there were no long-distance operators capable of connecting her to a distance spanning over two hundred years! The bubble exploded inside Alycia’s throat. A peal of harsh laughter burst from her lips, followed in seconds by a series of heart-rendering sobs.

  “There, there, Mistress Alice,” Lettie crooned, leading Alycia to the bed. “You come with Lettie. I brought you a nice herb tea to ease the pain.”

  Made docile by sheer weariness, Alycia allowed the woman to coax her into bed. Her wrenching sobs subsided as Lettie plumped the pillow high against the humpback headboard. Because her head was pounding and her throat was dry, she eagerly drank the bitter tea the woman handed to her.

  “That’s terrible!” Alycia exclaimed after the first few swallows.

  “Yes.” Lettie smiled. “But it will ease the pain. Now, you drink it down, Mistress Alice.”

  Alycia considered rebellion, but gave in with a shrug. What difference did it make? she mused, draining the dainty cup of its awful contents. It was only a dream ... wasn’t it?

  Or was it? Shuddering from the unwanted thought, Alycia barely noticed the cup being removed from her numb fingers. She’d had vivid dreams before—long, realistic dreams. But never had a dream lasted this long or been quite this realistic. But if it wasn’t a dream, then ... Alycia slammed the lid on that thought. It was a dream. It had to be a dream!

  “Will you have your breakfast now, Mistress Alice?”

  Alycia glanced up, startled out of introspection by Lettie’s soft, melodious voice. The woman was standing by the bed with quiet patience, her expression gentle with compassionate concern. Surprise washed through Alycia as she looked at the woman, really looked at her for the first time.

  Alycia judged the black woman to be somewhere in her early thirties. She was very tall, close to six feet, Alycia mused. Her body was slender, angular, but well proportioned. She was light-skinned, and her features were sharply defined, almost aristocratic. Her face was smooth and unwrinkled. Alycia felt uninteresting and plain in comparison with such a very beautiful woman.

  “Mistress? Are you sleeping with your eyes open?” A hint of fear tinged Lettie’s voice.

  “What?” Alycia blinked and laughed—a natural, easy laugh that surprised her as much as it seemed to startle Lettie. “No, I’m not sleeping. I’m afraid I was rudely staring at you.” Alycia smiled with sincere appreciation. “You are a very lovely woman, Lettie.”

  For a moment, Lettie looked astounded.
Then a smile spread on her handsome face, revealing gleaming white teeth. “I thank you most humbly, mistress, for the kind compliment.” Her back straight as a rod, Lettie sank into a graceful curtsy. “And may I be so bold as to repay it by confessing that I was admiring your beauty?”

  “You may.” Alycia laughed again. Suddenly feeling better, she sat up straight, wondering what in the world was in the herb tea she’d drunk. “And now,” she said, smiling as Lettie rose to her imposing height, “if this meeting of our mutual admiration society is over, I think I will have something to eat.”

  “Mutual admiration society?” Lettie repeated, frowning as she turned to retrieve the breakfast tray from the spindle-legged table.

  Realizing that the phrase must be new to the woman, Alycia was on the point of explaining when Lettie turned around, the tray in her capable hands, a wide grin on her face.

  “That was a very apt description, Mistress Alice. I would that I had thought it.”

  I would that I had, too, Alycia thought, but I cannot take the credit for it. Not wanting to confuse Lettie further, she kept the thought inside her head and cautioned herself to be careful with her mode of speech. Alerted, she chose her words carefully as Lettie approached the bed with the tray.

  “Can I not have my breakfast at the table?” she asked.

  A look of consternation flashed across the woman’s face, convincing Alycia she had articulated badly. But her fears eased with Lettie’s quiet but firm response.

  “I have twice had need to help you back to bed, mistress. I would that you remain there until you are stronger.”

  Though tempted to argue that, possibly due to that nasty tea, she was already feeling much stronger, Alycia gave in with a sigh. “Oh, all right, I’ll stay in bed ... on one condition.”

  “One condition?” Lettie repeated, frowning as she stood by the bed. “What condition do you request, mistress?”

  “That you sit with me while I eat,” Alycia replied, offering the woman a smile of inducement.