Fade to Grey

by Ilena Holder

  The path ran out and she walked across flattened grass. In the spot where she now stood, her Gran had kept an ornamental goldfish pond. Both of them used to love to feed the fish bits of mashed potatoes or even miniscule pieces of boiled eggs or crumbled hamburger. Now the place was traversed by a small stream, with a solid little rock building squatting on top of it. The miniature building, no more than five feet tall, was the size of a modern lawnmower shed, roughly ten or twelve feet square. Curious, she walked around it, unable to figure out what was inside. The windowless door was shut with a simple hook and eye latch and a large rock shoved against it. She grunted and moved the rock, and then unhooked the door to see what was inside. Peering into the semi-darkness, she was surprised to see the water running underneath the floor boards! A ditch was cut through the house and a wooden trough was set in the middle with crocks and baskets set into it! So this was the spring house Lilly mentioned! She had read about them, how people had placed perishables, mainly dairy products into them to keep them chilled until they could be used. People lucky enough to have a cold stream running through their properties had built-in natural refrigerators! Lifting the lid on the biggest crock, she found it was full of milk. A smaller crock held a large lump of yellow butter. Brown eggs filled a wire basket. A glass bottle had what appeared to be lemonade in it. Shelves lined the long side walls and they held a few baskets of potatoes and onions. There was even a tin dipper for drinking, hanging on a nail.

  Backing out, she shut the door, hooked the latch, and moved the stone back in place. She figured out the stone was to keep out animals. The spring house would work fairly well in hot weather, but when it turned to winter, all you had to do was set your perishables outside the window ledge or in the cellar for cooling purposes.

  Looking around, she saw she was still alone. All the important people were either in town or working in the house.

  She didn’t have to cross the stream; there was nothing on the other side except an empty field and some fruit trees. She guessed that they must have been apple trees from the vinegar smell of rotting fruit on the ground. Continuing on her scouting mission, she headed to the barn. Walking parallel to fences, she toyed with the idea of hopping over for a shorter route. She stopped and leaned her arms against the top rail and almost convinced herself to give it a try. She placed her foot on the bottom rail and rested it there. She knew they had horses, of course, but didn’t know if they kept any bulls. The spring house had butter and milk, so the odds were great that they had a Guernsey or Holstein. Even goats were a possibility. So she had reservations on entering a pasture and getting charged by who-knows-what. Besides, the long skirts she was wearing would have been a hindrance in topping the rails.

  Sighing, she pulled her foot back.

  Walking along the fence, she did see some goats peek their heads around the corner of the barn. She didn’t see any with large horns, though, but still was glad she hesitated on her original idea.

  As she approached the stables, she heard horses neighing. Though there were three pastures in close proximity, no horses were outside. She realized that Royce might not have had time to let them out due to the unexpected trip to Saint Joe with Mrs. Bradenton. She would have loved to have gone inside, but thought it best not to, since she was alone. Nothing might have been said, but she thought it best to be cautious.

  After circling the stable, she headed over to the barn, her last stop. Royce said Lilly’s husband kept the cows and milked them, so perhaps he was around. Didn’t you have to milk cows twice a day? If so, they should already have had their morning session. While these thoughts went through her mind, he came around the corner with a milking bucket in one hand and a three-legged stool in the other. Both were startled to see the other.

  “Good morning, ma’am!” he said.

  “Good morning.” Donna felt a bit foolish, as though she had been caught where she shouldn’t have been. But she composed herself, and put on a friendly face.

  “I was just out taking a walk while the Bradenton’s went to the doctor.”

  The man didn’t appear the least bit surprised at this news.

  Donna continued. “You must be Lilly’s husband.”

  “Yes, I’m Edward. Glad to meet you.”

  He shifted his weight from one foot to the other in an uneasy way, and Donna thought perhaps she was keeping him from his chores.

  “If you don’t mind, I need to get this milk to the kitchen for the maids. They’re expecting it.”

  “Well, it was nice meeting you,” she said cheerily.

  “Yes, ma’am, same here.” He nodded his head a bit and set the stool down. Now that she had actually met someone, albeit unexpectedly, she thought it best to head back to the main house. If she had glanced at the windows on the bottom floor, she would have seen someone drawing back the curtains.

  After she hung the cloak in the closet, she fetched a cup of tea and retreated to the library again. She would have at least another two hours to while away until everyone returned. Sipping and reading, she tried to keep her mind on the book. But every time she would start a new chapter, she was reminded she was adrift in time. The thought scared her and she fought vainly to keep the black fear at bay. How could she get back to 2010? Would she be able to do it on her own? Could someone else help her, and if so, who?

  She was jarred back to reality by the sound of the maids’ voices when they opened the front door to help the Bradentons out of the wagon. Only an hour had passed after all, by the clock on the wall. They must have been watching out the window because Donna didn’t hear the wagon wheels. Curious as to the outcome of the doctors visit, she placed her book on the couch and went out with the rest of the staff.

  Mr. Bradenton helped his wife down from her seat. She gingerly placed her feet on the stool that Lilly provided. Donna thought she had a good color to her cheeks, but she still appeared to be in some pain. Royce held the team’s head, steadying the bays. She stepped up at first to assist, but when the maids bustled forward to help, she stepped back. Between the maids and Mr. Bradenton, they led her back into the library. Royce threw out an iron weight to hold the team steady, and then flipped back some horse rugs in the back of the wagon. Putting his fingers to his lips, he gestured for Donna to step towards the wagon. She did and then he nodded towards the contents of the back. Donna saw four large brown traveling trunks. What on earth did Royce mean by showing her these?

  She looked at him and he began whispering. “Your lost luggage.”

  Donna didn’t know what to make of this development. Where had Royce come upon these and why was he helping her?

  “Let’s get these in the house, shall we?” he said.

  He flipped the first one out, setting it on its end. He did the same with the others, stacking them neatly by the door. Each time he bent down, his hair covered his eye patch and he had to brush it back with his hand. It made him look all the more intriguing. Donna could just imagine the muscles in his back expanding as he lifted the trunks. What a magnificent physique he must have!

  Flipping the first one on his shoulder as if it was a feather, he waited until she led him in the doorway, then down the hall.

  “Tell the maids we’re going upstairs.”

  “Yes, of course.” Now Royce was close to the stairs and he paused while Donna went into the kitchen to tell the maids what he requested.

  “Are you familiar with the layout of the house?” she asked him as he followed her up the stairs.

  “Yes, a bit, mainly from helping move furniture and such the last couple of years.”

  “My room is on the third floor—the Crows Nest,” she said.

  “Fine. We’ll have a chance to talk since I have four trunks to move,” Royce said. Setting the first trunk down in her bedroom, he paused as if to catch his breath.

  “Are they heavy?”

  “Not especially. They’re full of women’s clothing. The heaviest things are shoes and boots, but they’re really nothing to worry about. I
just want to spend a little time with you.”

  Donna felt flattered. If Royce was trying for a way to score points with her, he certainly had succeeded.

  “Where did you get them? This is wonderful. I mean, I am sure this stuff will come in handy.”

  “They were at the train station and have been for two years. I don’t want to look like I am pushing off old clothing on you, but perhaps it will help until your people send you more things from Chicago. I am not sure how long your visit is. If you are staying a few weeks, the maids will be glad to take you shopping in town.”

  Donna waited for him to continue.

  “Two years? I don’t understand. So you stole them?”

  “No, I never stole anything in my life. They belong to a woman long dead. They’ll never do her any good now, but they will you. Let’s say we’re borrowing them, with intent to replace them later on.”

  Donna gasped.

  Royce popped open the latch.

  “Here. Start acquainting yourself with everything. Plus we can talk while you do it.”

  Donna looked at the unfamiliar objects and started taking them out and placed them on her bed.

  Royce leaned against the wall, watching her. He unknotted a handkerchief from his neck and wiped his brow.

  “The woman was near your size and height, though a bit bustier. If anybody—like the maids—question the trunks, just say I picked them up for you at the train station. I doubt if they will, though.”

  Donna picked out a beautiful embroidered white blouse. “But what if the styles have changed?”

  “No matter. Good quality clothing never goes out of style. The Bradentons probably would never bring it up. You could say they were imported from Europe.”

  “Good thinking. You are right about classic styles. I could be into retro. But still, what about the woman’s death? Tell me about that.”

  “In due time. Let’s go down to the wagon to fetch another one.” Royce puzzled what she meant by retro and why Donna would be in it, but now was no time to puzzle over a strange word.

  Going down the hallway, Royce began speaking in a loud voice. “I looked around the train station and found some of your missing luggage. Wasn’t that lucky?” Then he began waving his hands.

  Donna figured out his signal and spoke. “How can I ever thank you enough?”

  Smiling at each other, they went back outside.

  While lifting the second trunk, Royce continued filling Donna in on his morning’s activities.

  “When Mr. Brandenton took his wife to the doctor, I decided to drop by the depot. I remembered seeing a pile of trunks in the back room ages ago. Luckily I remembered the woman’s family had never had them sent back to Chicago.”

  “How did you know the woman’s size and all? Had you seen her around Saint Joe?”

  Royce hoisted the second trunk on his shoulders. “No, I courted her maid when she was here.”

  “Didn’t the man at the station see you taking the trunks?”

  Royce laughed. “Not old Brewster! He’s drunk most days by this time of the morning. He doesn’t see much coming or going when he’s in his cups. I parked the wagon by the loading bays and casually entered the building as if looking for something, parcels perhaps for the Missus. No one paid much attention. I took a quick look around, saw the trunks, and loaded them up, posthaste.”

  For the second time, they headed up the stairs. When they were safely in her room, he spoke again.

  “There were two wealthy sisters, vigorous outdoorsy spinsters actually, who vacationed here two summers ago at one of the downtown hotels. They brought their own personal maids. I began seeing one of them when she had free time in the evenings and weekends.” He sat on the edge of Donna’s bed. She waited for him to continue.

  “One day they decided to rent a rowboat and go out onto Lake Michigan. The maids stayed at the hotel. An unexpected wave swamped the boat and one drowned. The other was rescued by passing fishermen.”

  “How horrible,” Donna said, shuddering.

  “Yes, it was. The remaining sister left immediately after the funeral. She said the family would send for the belongings later on, but they never did. We assumed they were so griefstricken they couldn’t bear to see the clothing again.”

  He stood to leave. Donna stood also, but he motioned her to stay.

  “It’d be better if you don’t follow me each time. The maids might suspect something. Just stay and sort through the clothing.”

  “Good thinking.”

  Royce then left, though not before brushing her hand. Though a slight movement, it was sincere and touching.

  Donna turned to her task, lifting out the neatly folded clothing. Little sachets had been packed in each layer, so the clothing had a sweet, fresh smell even after two years. Donna also detected the aroma of fine perfume. She rationalized that if the train station was completely dry all the time, clothing would be in a finely preserved state if it was laundered properly before being packed. She took hangers from the wardrobe and began hanging and smoothing each garment. At first she felt a bit queasy at the thought of wearing a dead woman’s clothing. But she thought of people who regularly purchased items are resale shops around Chicago and it didn’t seem to bother them. Besides, she was in desperate straits. Inspecting the clothes was secondary. She wanted to savor the touch of Royce, the outdoorsy smell that he had on his coat. Being touched by a man was not new to her, but in this time and place it seemed to have a stronger pull on her senses. She wanted to spend more time with him now that she was getting to know him a bit. Royce returned with the third trunk, and then the last one. He popped the latch on each one and showed her how the devices shut.

  “I can’t leave the team down there any longer. I have to get them back to the stable and my chores wait also. Come see me later…in the early evening if you can.”

  She grasped his arm. “Why are you helping me? You don’t even know me.”

  “I can’t explain it. Something inside told me to get the trunks today. The timing was right and you certainly needed clothing to carry out your charade of normalcy while here at Fallow Field. I figured we could create other things to make your past believable. We’ll work together.”

  Impulsively, Donna reached out and clasped her arms around his neck. Royce’s face was but a hairsbreadth from hers. Her heart began pounding and other household sounds faded away. She pressed her lips to his with urgency, as if she might never see him again. It felt silly, but she could hardly breathe when she felt the heady pressure of his mouth against her. She wanted him to know how much this kindness meant to her. He, in turn, slid his arms around her waist and returned her kiss with ardor. She tingled inside and felt suddenly feverish. Without another word, he turned and left. Donna finally relaxed.

  Chapter Seven

  The early morning doctor visit threw off everyone’s schedules. The maids resumed their routine, Mrs. Bradenton rested in her room and her husband requested a tray of cold cuts and cheeses to eat in private. It appeared not so much that the hosts were rude, but perhaps just exhausted. Donna figured that she would be entertaining herself for a while longer and that was fine with her. She wanted to visit Royce anyway. She asked the maids to make her a sandwich of some cold meat and mustard and said she would eat it in the library while she read. When the rest of the household was busy cooking or napping, she thought it an opportune time to slip out to the stable.

  Entering the front door, she saw Royce with his back to her, grooming one of the mares. This was the first time she had seen him without his coat and it was difficult not stare at the sheer masculine beauty of his broad back.

  “Hello!” She tried to speak before she startled the horses.

  “Hello, yourself!” Royce replied, turning around. “What might I do for you this fine morning?”

  “I’ve got another problem. Maybe you can help me.”

  “Of course you have.” In a lower voice, he said, “At least we solved the issue of missing clothing
today.”

  He walked closer and placed his curry comb and brush on a bucket. When he walked up to Donna she detected a distinctively male scent to him. It was musky and appealing. She untied her white cap and let her hair tumble from under it.

  “It’s my hair. I need it dyed.” With the backwash of afternoon light, her highlighted hair glinted tantalizingly.

  “How on earth…what do you mean, dye it?” Royce asked incredulously. He walked closer to finger the gold strands. Being so close to him again took her breath away. She remembered how his mouth felt against hers.

  “Dye it, stain it. Do you have something around here? Perhaps there’s an item in the stable that you could use?” Donna’s voice was strained. She knew when she was a girl she read about pioneer girls staining their lips and cheeks red with crushed berries. Colonists dyed fabrics and yarns with nut husks and clay and other natural things.

  “I can help you, aye,” Royce replied. “But you’ll have to tell me the reason why. Are you on the run from someone in the city?” He looked Donna straight in the eye. “I’m a pretty good judge of character, too, so don’t think you can fool me.”

  “I wish it was that simple.” Donna replaced her cap, and walked farther into the stable in case anyone should chance by. “I’m a pretty good judge myself. And from the looks of you, Royce, you’re a trustworthy man. Sooner or later I’ll have to tell you the truth.” She walked to what looked to be a portable mounting block and took a seat on it. “Would you like to talk while you groom?”

  “Yes, that would look appropriate in case we had a visitor.”

  Donna sighed with appreciation. It was nice to actually have a man think of propriety. As long as it appeared she might be stuck back in this time, she might as well soak up some of the old fashioned manners. She certainly was attracted to Royce, yet she understood his hesitancy for showing public displays of affection.

  “Now tell me, why are we doing this? Is there something you're not telling me that I need to know?”