"What else, Brian?” Connie waited.
"She told me to protect you and not to let you get away. I think she gives good advice.” Brian dipped his spoon into the hot soup trying to watch Connie at the same time.
A warm glow filled Connie. It was a familiar feeling, but this time she knew she could trust the man across from her. Smiling, she was pleased to see Brian relax. “I think so too. She's been telling me pretty much the same thing.” With a sigh, Connie made the plunge, “What she said was ‘don't let true love escape'."
His voice soft, Brian smiled. “I love you, too.” They leaned across the table, their lips met, sealing their commitment.
For the first time since arriving in Fredericksburg, Connie felt her life was hers. The couple spent the next hour comparing childhoods and telling each other about their families.
Connie stopped in the middle of telling Brian a story about her mother's two AM cleaning habits. “She's back."
Connie watched as Victoria came through the covered opening, but instead of turning to leave the bar, she scanning the room.
Blindly putting her hand in Brian's, Connie told him what was happening. “I'm going to trip. I'll stay close.” It took very little effort to transcend the distance in time. Was that because both Victoria and Connie wanted the meeting?
Connie stood and waited for Victoria to make her way through the thong of soldiers and their officers. A few offers of drinks were shunned by the thin soldier as she neared the massive open hearth. Standing to face the fire's warmth, Victoria waited for Connie to join her. Zack brought a tankard of hot tea.
"Kone, I must return to Evan.” She shook her head to stave off Connie's objection. “I am a child of the South. I don't know if I could survive in the North. There is so much hate for us there.” She turned to leave.
"Victoria,” Connie stepped in front of the other woman. “Don't make a decision now. Wait until Andrew is stronger. Evan is a strong man; he will learn to live without you. But you will never be happy if you don't go to Andrew."
Victoria looked up at Connie. “How can you say this? My mother will return home this week. And we have word that Maxi has been wounded, he will be coming home as soon as he has the strength to make the trip."
"Everything will be all right. Your mother and father will live long lives and they will enjoy many grandchildren. Max will prosper, and Evan ... he will find happiness. You have to trust me Victoria, your family will be a sad spot in your future, but Andrew will be your new family, he will be your life.” The words spilled out as quickly as Connie could say them afraid that Victoria would leave and she would never have the chance to change her mind. Why did she feel she had to convince Victoria to leave her husband? Was Victoria right? Did she have another destiny?
"Maybe ... maybe not.” Victoria turned and walked with her head down, her face hidden by the butternut kepi, to the red door. Before going out into the heavy rain, she turned and raised her hand to Connie.
Closing her eyes, Connie felt herself drift. She became aware of Brian's touch, and the warm room around her.
[Back to Table of Contents]
Thirty-Five
Saturday
She didn't need an alarm clock this morning. Connie woke to the sound of the shower running and Brian's deep bass voice coming from the small room. Such a pleasant feeling having him so close.
I wonder what it would be like to ... Commotion in the hall distracted her thoughts.
"Be careful, don't bump the wall,” Tracey's warning was followed by a thud. “Joe!"
The rest of her complaint was too soft and far away for Connie to hear. Sliding out of the high bed, and putting on her duster, she went to the bathroom door.
The shower had stopped, Brian hummed softly. Connie tapped on the closed door. “Are you all right in there? It sounds like something's dying."
The door swung open, revealing a damp Brian wearing a light cotton bath robe. “Hey, hey, hey, you better get used to this, cause I think I'm going to be doing a lot of it from now on."
"What? Bathing? Shaving? I hope so.” Connie let him kiss her, inheriting a portion of the mint scented shaving cream.
"No, silly, singing.” Throwing his head back, Brian sang the title line from, ‘I've got to be me.'
"We'll talk about that later. Joe and Tracey are getting ready to leave and I want to say good-bye.” She stepped back into her room. “Let me know when you're done, Frank, so I can shower. They won't be leaving until ten or so. Joe said they would be taking another look around first. We've got some of time, that is, if you don't try to sing all of Sinatra greatest hits."
"Well, I'm not using the shower now..."
"No way, finish shaving and give me a yell.” The warmth she felt wasn't just from the morning sun.
* * * *
"Why the serious face? Is something bothering you?” Brian looked down at Connie as they strolled along the brick sidewalks of the historical city. Hordes of tourists would be filling the streets soon. The shop clerks were opening their doors and putting out signs and displays. They walked slowly toward the river.
"I was thinking about Victoria. Will I ever find out who she is and why I feel so close to her and Andrew?” Tightening her hold on his hand, she felt the small ring press into her finger. I may have to move it to my other hand if I get a wedding band. “I've been thinking about tripping to see her this evening. It will be my last chance. I think I have to try.” She waited for his comment.
"I'll be there if that's what you want. Just save some time for me, too.” The bargain was closed with a light kiss.
* * * *
"Are you sure about driving me home tomorrow?” They had gone to the bus station after breakfast with the Handleys to cash in Connie's return bus ticket.
"Positive, I want to be alone with you, without Joe, Tracey, or Victoria around.” Brian tightened his hold on her hand.
They came to the dock where Connie and Victoria had first talked. Sitting on a bench in the sun.
"I'm happy with my career but I want to take it further. I have a Masters in American History. I'm entered in the doctorate program at Penn State next year. I hope to teach at a University instead of a prep-school. And I would like to have more time for photography.” Connie's hand was warm in his. “What about you?"
Connie took a deep breath before answering. “I want to write the great American novel, of course. I have the subject. Do you want to hear?"
"Why not? Unless it's really boring.” Ducking the smack Connie leveled at him, Brian laughed. “No, I really would like to hear your idea."
"If you go to sleep, I'll never speak to you again."
"Promise, I won't."
"I want to tell the story of my great, great, great grandparents. The trouble is that I don't have a whole lot to go on.” Raising their held hands, Connie lifted her pinky finger. “This was Mandi's wedding ring. It was passed down from mother to daughter through five generations. My mother left it to me in her will. If she had lived to see me marry, she would have given it to me then."
"I know Drew fought for the Union in a division from Pennsylvania. In eighteen sixty-four, he returned home after recuperating from debilitation injuries at a hospital in Washington. He brought his nurse home as his bride.
"I have Drew's lineage as far back as seventeen sixty-four, but Mandi's a mystery. No one in the family remembered having heard anything about her past. Few pictures remained. Most were of later vintage, taken in the late twenties. One is a picture of a wrinkled old man in pants that were a size too big for him, held up by suspenders, standing in front of a small general store. He held a straw broom as he stared at the camera with his good eye, the left one was covered by a patch. In the window was a sign “Kosgrove's General Store and Post Office, Cherry Grove, Pennsylvania". Grandma Mary said that the man in the picture is Drew. Another of him was taken at a picnic, or large gathering in the summer. Drew is sitting on a wooden chair under a tree, smoking a pipe as he watched children
and young adults playing baseball in an open field. A woman is standing behind his chair, her head turned from the camera, her white dress bright in the sun. Her face is shaded by a large hat."
As she talked something from the past tugged at her to be remembered, just as she thought she had it in her grasp, it would drift away.
"Were there any pictures of Mandi?” Brian was watching her with deep interest.
"A few, but she was camera shy. There was one ... we know for sure. Taken in the late thirties, thirty-six or thirty-eight. The date is written on the picture, but it's faded. She's sitting in a rocker on the porch of her daughter's house in town. Her face is in the shade, but you can see that she is smoking a cigar. Mandi was ninety-seven when she died in nineteen forty; she had been living with her granddaughter for six years, after Drew died. All the other pictures were taken at a distance. It's impossible to say for sure who the people in them are. My grandmother told me the ‘woman behind the chair with the hat was Mandi."
Looking at the ring on her little finger Connie continued, “I've always felt close to her. We share a birthday, November fifth, and a name. My middle name is Amanda."
"And that was her ring?” Brian indicated the heirloom.
"Yes. All the other women in the family have worn it on their wedding day as a wedding ring but I'm afraid my hands are too large to wear it on my ring finger. But I love the ring, it means a lot to me, so I wear it as a pinky ring."
"You mean a lot to me.” Brian held her close. He worried aloud, “I don't want anything to happen to you. Promise you won't take this trip without me."
"I wouldn't think of it.” Connie assured him, and they sealed the pact with another kiss.
[Back to Table of Contents]
Thirty-Six
The morning quickly melted into afternoon and the afternoon was fading away. Brian wanted to show Connie the historical city the way normal people saw it, on vacation. For a matter of hours, he forgot everything but Connie.
The setting sun dropped slowly behind the hills to the west, coloring the sky with streaks of purple and orange as they approached the bed and breakfast.
"Great back drop,” Brian exclaimed, as he watched the colors fade. They were all but lost by the time they reached the door.
"I'm a little afraid,” Connie said quietly, stopping on the sidewalk.
"You don't have to do this.” Brian turned to look down at her, tightening his arm around her waist. “We can go to a motel, or even leave for home.” He tried to hide his own fears of the past and the relief an early departure would give him.
Connie glanced up, her hand on the doorknob. “Oh, you think ... No, I'm not talking about tripping. I mean us. Things are going too good. I'm afraid something will happen and ... I'm afraid."
Turning her to face him, Brian looked into her eyes. “You don't have to be afraid. I'll be here until you choose to kick me out. But that will be the only way you'll get rid of me. Now stop worrying.” Pulling her near, he held her tight.
Someone must have pulled a number on her. Brian wished he had the rat here. He'd have a few choice things to say. Brian knew he would have to show Connie that she could trust him.
* * * *
Voices and laughter came from the dining room. Looking at each other with a smile, the couple ascended the steps as quietly as they could. They had no desire to include others in their private world.
"Bring your book over and let me see what you have so far,” Connie told Brian at the door to her room.
"There's not much to see. All it is right now is a planned layout, some ideas and notes on locations and buildings."
"It doesn't matter. Let me see it."
"Okay, but it's going to bore you to death.” Brian went into his room.
Connie watched the door close behind him and went into her own room. Kicking off her shoes, she put her purse on the chest next to the bed and turned on the radio. She hadn't any twentieth century news since she arrived in Fredericksburg.
Brian arrived with a pile of notebooks and packs of pictures. “Were do you want them?"
"Wow, that is a lot of stuff. Put it on the bed. That way you can spread it out."
Brian arranged the material and started to take Connie through his plans.
* * * *
"I guess if I'm going to trip, I should do it.” Connie stood up and stretched.
They had put Brian's book away over an hour ago. Brian read Connie's article and they compared notes on their future plans. For some reason, Connie thought with a smile, they seemed to have a lot to say to each other.
"Just why was it you wanted to visit with Victoria?” Brian asked. His brow furrowed with concern. “Maybe you should leave well enough alone."
"Maybe, but ... I'm not so sure that it is ‘well enough'.” Connie smiled at Brian. “I don't like the way we left it. I think she should forget social morals and get the heck out of town. I don't even know if I'll be able to go back. The journal's done. I have to know what happened to her."
"Okay, we'll do it your way.” Brian stood beside her and held both of her hands. “I'm glad this tripping is almost over. I don't think I could ever get use to it."
"When I have the answers ... maybe then it will stop.” Connie forced herself to let go of Brian's hands. “What time is it? It must be getting late."
Brian glanced at his wristwatch. “Wow, it's almost eleven. Do you think it's too late to trip?"
"I don't know,” she said. “But I'll never know if I don't try."
"How are you going to do this? You've never tripped on demand before."
"I don't know that either. Maybe reading the journal will help.” Picking up the little book, Connie turned to the last entry. As she read the words, she wondered at Victoria's plight. What would her decision be? Would she stay with a man she didn't love because of convention? Or would she follow her heart, and run away with the man who had claimed her love? Was her decision at the Blackstone a final one?
Connie read aloud.
13 May 1863
What am I to do, Kone? I love Andrew with all my heart but Evan has been a true and good husband during these years of war. If I leave him, I can never return. Can I betray my family? My country? Myself? When I saw you today at the Pub you told me to be true to my heart. But can I?
"Oh, Victoria, what have you done?” She thought of the long dark hair falling down the young woman's back as she sat in this very spot, on a chair not unlike this one, writing in this tattered book when it was new.
Holding the journal tight to her chest, Connie closed her eyes and tried to think of nothing but her distant friend. Thoughts of her own future with Brian tried to intrude, but she put them aside with a smile of remembrance.
The mist tried to gather. A vision of an old Victoria filled Connie's thoughts. “Don't give up, child. We're waiting for you. We need you.” Connie felt the swirling fog as the vision led her through time.
She looks like Mom. Connie smiled. But then Mom had suffered for months while the cancer worked inside her. Of course she looked old and she had lost weight.
"Brian, I think its working. Can you tell?"
"It comes and goes, but yes I think its getting stronger."
Connie sat in silent concentration for a while more, finally, opening her eyes. She looked at Brian perched on a straight-backed chair next to her, his eyes glued to her face. Putting her hand on his, she let the book drop to her lap with a sigh. “It's no use. I can't initiate the trip. It was so close."
"I'm sorry. I know how worried you are, but it is the past. Whatever was to happen has. Don't you think you might have had some influence on her?"
"I know. I'm being selfish. I just...” A tear of frustration rolled down her cheek. Quickly, she brushed it aside and took a deep breath. “Maybe I should just butt out. It is her life."
"I think you need something to eat. We missed supper, you know.” Brian stood up. “I'll go raid the kitchen. Betty won't mind as long as I don't make a mess. You
wait here,” he said. “One person rummaging down there, may not be heard, but two ... well you never know what trouble we'd get into, and we don't want to be the subject of a scandal. After all, we might want to come back here some day."
After he left the room, Connie stood. She felt the cold wood floor under her bare feet as she moved toward the wardrobe to put the journal away.
Her steps halted, a light flicked behind her. Slowly Connie turned.
Victoria didn't see her. She was angrily packing and unpacking a large carpetbag that sat on the bed. Dresses and undergarments cluttered the quilted cover. Frustrated she threw a petticoat down on the pile and reached into the bag. Tears streaked her face, as she captured sobs in the small linen handkerchief she carried in one hand. “What am I going to do?"
Connie stood across from her. “Wear as much as you can. Put on some extra petticoats and under-drawers, wear two corsets. Put another skirt over that one, maybe two and put the bodices in the bag. Pack some things that you can't bear to leave behind, but be ready to part with others.” Her smiling advice had a calming effect on Victoria.
Connie watched as Victoria started to follow her advice. Minutes later, she stood back and asked, “Can you tell?"
Shaking her head, Connie assured her. “Anyone who knows you will think you've put on weight, but they won't be able to tell that you are wearing a week's worth of clothes. Now finish packing the bag. I take it you're going to meet Andrew."
"Yes, I am to meet the wagon at the river.” Victoria whispered her plans to her friend as she selected clothing to be packed. With care she added small ambrotypes of her mother and father. “I don't have a picture of Maxi; I will have to carry him in my heart.” Another sob escaped. “I will miss them so much. Kone, am I truly doing the right thing?"
Connie whispered, “Can you live without Andrew?” She waited for the responding shake of the dark head. “You can't very well go to Evan and tell him that you've taken up with a Yankee, and that you want Evan to move out so Andrew can move in, now can you?"
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