Lost in the Mist

by Wanda C. Keesey

  His anger worries me. He tries to calm my fears by telling me that the problem is with the men that ran the country not the women who cook and sew for them.

  Evan too, put me off by telling me the problem was in the government and not the household.

  For the first time, the reality of the approaching war made Connie fear for the girl. Would she be prepared? Could she cope with the madness and murder? The loss and hardships? Many had, and survived to start again, but could Victoria?

  Recognizing the small pangs of hunger, Connie was surprised to see that it was after five, supper would be served before long.

  She quickly read the entries for the next few months.

  To Victoria's distress, Evan was being a gentleman as they attended events in and around Fredericksburg. Barn dances, carnivals, music in the park, church picnics, rides into the country, walks along the river were all noted and duly appreciated. By her fifteenth birthday, Victoria was feeling the physical pangs of a woman yearning for the man she loved. Connie knew what the young woman had gone through. Her own body was responding to Brian's presence.

  Val's call to supper was loud and accompanied by a bell, not the soft far-away call she had hear the first night she was at the B&B.

  Brian was waiting for her when she opened her door.

  "Sorry, I fell asleep,” he said.

  "And I was looking forward to that fresh air,” Connie replied. “Tell you what, you can make it up to me by going for a walk after supper."

  "It's a deal.” Brian followed her to the stairs.

  The meal was quiet. The Handleys had gone out for the evening to witness and be part of a re-enactment of a town meeting. She and Brian ate alone sitting across from each other. They talked about everything but Victoria and the journal.

  "Still up for that walk?” Brian drank the last of his coffee and prepared to leave the table.

  "I need the fresh air, yes, lets go.” Connie emptied her glass and stood.

  * * * *

  They had been walking for ten minutes, aimlessly exploring the surrounding streets and alleyways. They didn't talk much; instead they enjoyed the pleasant spring day and each other's company. It felt “right” to be there with Brian. She had never felt this way about Phillip.

  "Brian, tomorrow I'm going back to the church. I want to explore the cemetery and make some rubbings of the headstones. If you won't be bored or have something else you have to do, you're welcome to come along.” Connie turned slightly to see his face.

  "Sure, I want to get some pictures of the building and I can help you with the rubbings. Do you mind if we leave early? I want to see what effect the morning sun has on the church."

  "Is six-thirty okay for breakfast?” Connie said.

  "Sounds good. We can get there around seven if we drive.” Brian agreed.

  "Okay, six-thirty then. If you don't hear sounds from my room by six you may have to knock on the door and make sure I'm up."

  "You got it.” Brian smiled down at her.

  Twenty minutes later, they approached the front door of Fraiser's Rest. Brian said, “I have to get more film. Would you like to go along?"

  "I think I'll go upstairs and lie down. It's been a long day and I haven't been sleeping well,” Connie answered. “But I could use some more aspirin. Do you mind picking up a small bottle for me?"

  "You got it. I'll be back in a while. I like to run the car every day to keep the oil moving. That short trip to church only teased her. She's getting old and needs her exercise to keep limber.” Brian waved as he started around the house to the parking lot in the rear.

  * * * *

  The work had gone well. The article would be ready on time, and it would be good. But Connie's quest to solve the tripping events was another problem. The list of questions nearly filled two pages of her notebook.

  Why Fredericksburg? Why Victoria? What drew her back? Would the time come when she couldn't return to her own century? Was there some way to control the trips? Would they ever stop?

  And what about Victoria? Would she marry Evan? Would she have children? Would she live to be an old woman satisfied with the life she choose? What was she doing in the Blackstone Inn? Was she involved with the Westerlys’ clandestine affairs? How did she know the Westerlys owned the Blackstone and how did she know about their clandestine affairs?

  What happened to the rest of the Brentwells? Did Max Jr. join the army? Did Prudence recover fully from her depression? What did the doctor do during the war? Did he run a hospital or aid station, or did he work out of his home? Does Evan further his career during the conflict? Does he go into politics?

  A lot of questions, Connie thought, reading the scribbled pages. Would she ever be able to find all the answers? Maybe the cemetery would provide some of them. At least the final answers.

  As she prepared for bed, the occasional kaleidoscope changes in the room seemed normal. Approaching the bathroom, she watched the expanded wall disappear, leaving a small table holding a wash bowl and pitcher standing next to a connecting door. Connie waited quietly until the small room reappeared.

  The sheets felt crisp and cool against her warm damp skin. Since her visit with Victoria on the dock and reading the new journal, Connie felt she had a sister of sorts, a kindred soul. Maybe Victoria had questions and restless nights thinking about Connie.

  As usual, sleep didn't come easily, and the night was filled with dreams.

  * * * *

  Victoria stood between Connie and Brian, his arms outstretched in appeal. No matter which way Connie moved Victoria continued to separate them. She found herself pleading with Victoria to release her from the bond that was between them. Victoria only shook her head with a sad smile. The attractive nineteenth century teenager started to change. Her features grew mature, her body filled out, the high necked pale blue dress was replaced by one of dull gray, buttoned to the neck, its lines straight and skirt lifeless, a man's worn fedora sat on the dark hair. She changed again, her body became lean and tough, her face grew wrinkled with age and weathering, her hair grayed, she held a cigar between her teeth. A vaguely familiar face looked at Connie. As Victoria took the cigar from her mouth, she smiled and her lips moved. The words were lost in the hush of the dream, but Connie suddenly felt calm. Everything would be all right.

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Seventeen

  Victoria stood watching the sleet bounce off of the windowpane. She clutched the journal to her breast. The gloomy afternoon filled her with loneliness and doubts.

  Does Evan really love me? He says he does.

  Do I really love him? A harder question, but yes, I think I do.

  His lips were gentle when they brushed my hair as he prepared to take his leave. When he tilted my head back and kissed my lips, I longed for more, but he left me as a thirsty man teased by a drop of water.

  What would my sister from the future say to my thoughts?

  With a start, Victoria realized she knew little of Kone, yet she thought of her as a “sister".

  I don't know if she is married or a spinster. Does she have children? Does she live in Fredericksburg?

  Slowly turning from the window, Victoria sat in the armchair, the journal still held tight against her body.

  I have seen her in this room, at market, and on the dock.

  She recalled the strange visions. The first time had frightened and later angered her. Returning to her room for a night of slumber, she found a strange woman dressed in strange clothing in her room. As the woman called out, she faded and disappeared. How had she known my name? Why was she in my room? Where had she come from? And where had she gone?

  There were other times. Kone appearing and fading as Victoria returned to her room one morning last fall. Lacy carried the chamber pot and slop bucket.

  "There's a chill, Miss Victoria. Would you be wanting a fire?” Lacy had asked.

  "No, Lacy. It is just a draught. The sun will warm the room.” Victoria had watched from the hall as the
tall figure in a yellow dress dissolved.

  She wore a dress of the same color when I saw her at the river on my birthday. I walked in snow, and she in sun.

  What day was it in Kone's time when she appeared this summer? I sat on the armchair as I am today, writing in my journal, when Kone appeared, a dark blue cloth over her arm, a light breeze moved the thin garment that covered her. She did not see me, but stared at the wash basin before fading into a cloudy mist.

  It has been almost a year since we met that cold winter's night at the river, I don't know if she is reading the notes I write in the journal or even if the journal has been found. I have so much to ask, so much I want to know.

  With a sigh, Victoria dipped her pen into the small pot of ink and began to write.

  13 October 1858

  It has been a long time since I saw you last, Kone...

  * * * *

  Victoria put the pen aside and covered the inkpot. Her fingers were cramped from writing. She reread the words before blotting the last page and closing the book.

  Carefully wrapping the journal in a piece of scrap drapery material, Victoria moved toward the grate and the dying fire. After putting the book in the opening, Victoria checked that the first journal was still safe before sliding the stone back into place.

  She swept up the bits of rubble that had fallen onto the hearth. Stirring the ashes and partially burned wood, she banked the fire. Lacy would have broth and fruit for the evening repast.

  Will I see you today, Kone? She smiled remembering the times she glimpsed the ghostly figure sitting at the table while Victoria and her family ate.

  And last Christmas she was helping Lacy in the kitchen when Maxi and Papa had returned from securing a tree to be decorated with candles and a Yule log to burn in the parlor on Christmas night. Victoria watched as they made their way to the Parlor. Kone was sitting at the table, watching the men's excitement. She was pale and surrounded by a mist, but she smiled with them. She seemed to be talking to someone sitting with her. Perhaps she was sharing her pleasure with someone special.

  I hope you have someone special, Kone.

  Before going to the kitchen, she laid several pieces of split oak on the hearth, to be added to the embers in the fireplace when she returned for the evening.

  Emptying the basin into the slop bucket, Victoria went to the door. Before she left the room, she turned back. “Kone, are you here?” she whispered, waiting. When the room remained silent and empty, she sighed and closed the door quietly behind her.

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Eighteen

  Monday

  A light rain had started sometime during the night. Connie didn't know if it was the cool air from the air conditioning vents or the tapping of drops against the glass that woke her.

  She turned the artificial cooling off and opened the windows. The clean smell of the spring shower, added to her improved mood. Some small memory of dreams that haunted her during the night remained, but the visions were lost. For the first time since arriving in Fredericksburg, she felt at peace and in control.

  Was she deceiving herself? Maybe, but today, she didn't care.

  Looking out over the wet cobblestones, Connie wondered, How often did Victoria stand in this very spot? Did she leave Fredericksburg during the war? Did she go some place safe? Did she survive the war? Connie hoped so.

  With a start Connie remembered the dream. Victoria had lived a long life. She changed from a young woman to an old woman in her dream. But could dreams be trusted?

  The rain stopped. The sun broke through the layer of clouds. Its early morning rays sparkled on the street. By the time Brian and she were ready to leave the dampness should be gone. Glancing at the clock radio, Connie saw it was too early for her breakfast date with Brian. Dressing quickly she put her equipment together in preparation for the day ahead.

  Sitting against the antique bed's headboard, she read more of the old diary, stopping when she heard water running. Brian was up; a thrill of anticipation ran through her. It was going to be a good day.

  She returned to the neat, slanted script before her.

  13 October 1858

  It has been a long time since I saw you last Kone. I imagine that you live in some far off country and cannot visit due to fear of the open sea. I pretend not to know that you come from a different time, a distance more impossible to travel than all the oceans.

  I wish often that you were a friend like Annabelle and I could visit you in your parlor, or you could call on me, or we could meet at church.

  Many things seem to be wrong with the world and I feel a very small part of it. I fear that I will be overlooked and perhaps trampled.

  Pastor Bricker tells us to pray for understanding between the politicians in Washington. Evan tells all who will listen that we should pray that Washington leaves us alone to govern our own state. What is to happen to us, Kone? What is in the future for us? I fear war, yet I do not know why. I have not seen it; perhaps it is because I know killing is a part of it.

  10 January 1859

  After Sunday supper, Evan and I walked to the river. It is wild and beautiful in the snow. We stood on a stone bridge and talked of our future, the cold finally driving us to seek shelter. Evan has given his services to the city as organizer and leader of a local militia. A home guard. He said it is his duty. He and the guard will stand to protect our city's boundaries from the threat of the likes of John Brown and possibly a conflict with the northern states. He has concerns that his absence from me caused by this new commitment will harden my feelings for him. I assured him, there is nothing that could change my desire to be his wife.

  23 April 1859

  Evan is again drilling the small band of boys who have joined the Home Guard, Maxi is among them. Papa hopes Evan can bring some control to my brother's mischief. Though he is older than me by two years, he acts like a child. Maxi likes strutting around with the other young men pretending to be soldiers. He thinks he is impressing the schoolgirls gathered to watch, and perhaps he is, but my brother has been smitten by only one. Elizabeth Ann writes him letters, and he responds in kind. She is to visit Evan this summer. I think it is not her cousin, Evan, she wishes to see.

  Annabelle and I took her pony cart to the old Corrigan farm where Evan drills the guard most evenings and every Saturday. We stayed until Evan caused us to leave. He tried to be kind, saying we were causing his troops to forget why they were there. We promised not to return.

  18 May 1859

  Evan will release the Home Guard from their training the Saturday of the community Spring picnic. He will enter the games with me. Papa thinks this is unbecoming of a barrister and man soon to be married. Soon? The wedding is a year away. The wait is harder than I ever thought it could be.

  Lifting her eyes only when a light knock drew her attention, Connie glanced at the clock. Time had slipped by, it was after six.

  "Are you up?” Brian called beyond the closed door.

  "Yes, I'll be right down,” she answered.

  * * * *

  They ate in silence. Connie kept her head down, intent on the plate in front of her.

  "Are you feeling okay?” Brian studied her. “If you would like to put this off, I'm sure we can find another time..."

  Looking up Connie said, “I'm fine. I've just been thinking about Victoria, or rather my trips back in time. I realized that I stay in the same time of day, but not the same day, time of year, or even the same year. When I went back in her room, at the church, and on the bridge, Victoria was a teenager, but at the Blackstone, she was older, not much maybe. The war had started, the bar was packed with Confederate soldiers and she wore a soldier's disguise. She knew about me. That's why she wasn't surprised to see me, and maybe even expected me to be there."

  "That's interesting and it can be worthwhile considering when you pop in on her.” Brian refilled both of their cups with coffee. “It can make things confusing if the visits aren't in sequence. You might say some
thing that you and she talked about a year later, and she won't remember."

  "I'll keep it in mind.” Connie sipped the hot liquid. “I don't know how long this will take today. We should be done by early afternoon."

  "Doesn't matter, I'm yours for the day. As a matter of fact, when I got back yesterday, I asked Betty for a picnic lunch and cooler of ice water. It should be ready. Do you want me to add anything?"

  Connie shook her head. “No, that sounds fine. The water will be better than a sugared drink. I'm glad you thought of it."

  Her eyes looked past Brian. Quietly he asked, “What do you see?"

  Shifting her glance to his worried face, Connie smiled. “Preparations for Christmas. Young Max and his father just returned from a journey in the snow. They were talking about a tree and Yule log they left outside. Lacy is fixing their breakfast while they warm themselves by the fire. I can only catch bits and pieces of the conversation. It's like watching a faint TV image projected over the room."

  "I wish I could see them too.” Brian watched the wonder on Connie's face.

  "I wish you could too. It really is something. But seeing a second world visible on top of our own makes me dizzy.” She stared at the fireplace hearth as she talked. “The past doesn't worry me anymore. It's the problem of getting back and forth that bothers me.” Connie looked into Brian's eyes. “I want to thank you for coming with me today. Are you sure it won't interfere with your own plans?"

  "Nope, like I said, it fits right in. It's a perfect morning to get some good background clouds. They'll be great to show off the steeple of the chapel.” Thoughtfully Brian mulled over his ideas. “I haven't decided how to take the Blackstone yet. Something dark and gloomy, I think."

  "I agree, it has a shady past, somehow not quite sinister, but in the shadows.” Connie stood, placing her napkin next to her plate.

  * * * *

  White clouds drifted across the open blue sky. A few small puddles remained, but not for long. The sun was going to prove their mortal enemy.