Swan's Way

by Weyrich, Becky Lee

  “I never noticed.”

  “Of course, you didn’t. How could you, with Channing McNeal filling your love-struck eyes? No one could blame you, though. He is a darling young man. He’ll make you the best husband any woman ever had.” Suddenly, she gripped Ginna’s hands and squeezed tightly. Tears pooled in her lovely blue eyes.

  “What’s wrong, Mother?”

  Melora brushed at her eyes with a lace-edged handkerchief. “Oh, don’t mind me, dear. I’m just the sentimental sort, but I do wish the wedding were sooner.”

  “Channing can’t marry until after graduation. It’s not allowed.”

  “I know. I know.” Melora shook her head and worried her damp handkerchief. “Everything will be fine. It’s just that I had so hoped for my only daughter’s life to be perfect.”

  “And it will be, Mother. I love Channing. I couldn’t be happier. There’s nothing to worry about.” Even as Ginna tried to reassure Virginia’s mother, a niggling worm of doubt surfaced in her own heart. This was March of 1861. Her wedding to Channing was set for June first. She concentrated hard, trying to remember historical dates. It seemed that something very important would happen soon—something that would change all their lives.

  Suddenly, from out of Ginna’s past, a stern voice spoke to her, the voice of Miss Hemphill, her fifth grade teacher, the terror of Stonewall Elementary. “Ginna, you know the answer. Think, girl! Think! When was Fort Sumter surrendered to the Confederacy? When did the War of Northern Aggression begin?”

  April 12, 1861. The answer came to Ginna so suddenly that she almost said it aloud. Relief at her not shouting it to Melora Swan vanished with the realization that accompanied that date. The country would be at war before Channing’s graduation from West Point … before he came home to her … before they could be wed.

  If Ginna knew little of Virginia Swan’s past, she suddenly realized that she knew even less of her future—a future left hanging in uncertainty by the inevitable dates of history. Ginna’s heart sank. She was only just beginning to accept her new life as Virginia Swan, and what a glorious life it had seemed. But thinking ahead to what the coming months and years would bring to the innocent Miss Swan, even Ginna Jones’s drab life began to look enticing by comparison.

  “Your locket is exquisite, dear.” Melora’s voice broke into her grim thoughts. “A gift from Channing?”

  Ginna could only nod in response. She wanted desperately to warn this woman she had called “Mother” of the pain and sorrow ahead. But how could she? How would she explain her uncanny knowledge of events to come?

  Just then, Channing and Colonel Swan came into the room. Swan seemed to have calmed down some, but his cravat was askew and his luxuriant hair mussed.

  Obviously trying to reassure the two women, Channing offered them his warmest, most radiant smile. “I have asked the maitre d’hotel to serve us tea, even though the dining room is closed. He’ll bring it here to the parlor, if that suits you, Mrs. Swan.”

  “A fine idea, Channing.” Melora nodded her gratitude to him. “A nice cup of tea and a bite to eat should be the very thing for all of us.” She cast a withering look at her husband.

  Ignoring her tacit rebuke, Jedediah caught the jacket sleeve of a passing waiter. His voice boomed through the quiet room. “Bring me a double bourbon, boy!”

  Melora glared at him, but he refused to meet her gaze. He slouched down in his chair and looked at Ginna, instead. “Well, I reckon Channing here’s spent his whole inheritance on you this morning, eh, baby-girl?”

  Ginna felt Virginia blush heatedly. Somehow she knew that Swan’s daughter hated being called by that epithet.

  “I would have to spend my inheritance and borrow against my father’s entire estate to come close to spending what she’s worth, sir,” Channing put in.

  Jedediah slapped his future son-in-law on the back and bellowed a laugh. Then he winked at Virginia. “Good man you’ve got here, darlin’. He’s gonna make one fine officer for the Confederacy. I’m proud he’ll be riding with me.”

  Ginna saw Melora Swan’s hand go to her throat in a gesture of horror.

  Channing’s smile turned to a frown.

  Oblivious, Colonel Swan tossed down his bourbon and ordered another double.

  Only Ginna knew the full truth of what the future held for these people, and for herself, if she remained in this time, in Virginia Swan’s body. Another bit of information had dislodged itself from her subconscious. She could hear Elspeth’s voice saying, “You’ll recall Miss Virginia Swan was engaged to a fine young man before the start of the war. But she never married. You see, the man she loved had graduated from West Point, and he joined up with the Union forces when the war began. Her daddy, Colonel Swan, forbad them to wed. It nearly broke Miss Virginia’s poor heart.”

  Ginna went cold all over. In that moment, that flash of memory, she realized that she would never wear the opal and diamond ring that Channing had chosen for her today with its matching wedding band. They would never marry, never live together as man and wife. Ginna felt her own heart breaking. Tears spilled over her lashes and down her cheeks.

  “Why, Virginia!” her mother said. “Whatever is the matter, dear?”

  It was a good thing Channing spoke for her, because Ginna could never have found her voice. “Our Virginia is overwrought, Mrs. Swan, and I’m afraid it’s all my fault. She must be exhausted after such a full day—sightseeing, having our portrait done, choosing a ring. I shouldn’t have rushed things, but there’s so much I want to show Virginia here in New York, and so much I want to share with her.” Then he added in a solemn voice, “But so little time.”

  Virginia’s mother demanded to know all about everything, especially the ring. She and Channing talked on and on, while Colonel Swan drank and Ginna sat numb, feeling stunned and hopeless.

  Channing’s words rang in her mind like a death knell: So little time! So little time! So little time!

  If only he knew!

  Chapter Five

  Ginna needn’t have bothered worrying that she should have remained at Swan’s Quarter for a quiet visit with her friends, instead of popping through glass plate negatives and gadding about nineteenth century New York City with her handsome West Point cadet. No one except old Zee, the gardener, had seen Ginna arrive on the grounds and no one at all saw her leave. In fact, no one at Swan’s Quarter saw anything for a brief space of time.

  Around eleven-thirty, Pansy, Elspeth, and Sister had decided, as they were leaving the chapel service, that a few hands of bridge before Sunday dinner might be entertaining. They persuaded Marcellus Lynch to sit in as their fourth. Before Lynch joined them in the game room, the women cut the deck to see who would be forced to endure as his partner. Unlucky Elspeth drew the three of clubs and, with it, Lynch and his dubious talent at cards; he always overbid and could never keep track of trump.

  At precisely eleven-fifty, Sister’s right hand, holding the deuce of spades, was maliciously, gleefully poised to trump Lynch’s singleton ace of hearts and so take the winning trick. A stay of execution was granted the defenseless ace, and Lynch’s degradation was postponed at the moment Ginna and Neal accidentally stumbled back into the past. Their unorthodox action froze time in the present and stopped not only Sister’s hand, but the hands of every clock at Swan’s Quarter at exactly ten minutes before noon.

  All through the big house and on the grounds of the sanatorium, time stood still. Dr. Kirkwood’s pen scratched to an abrupt halt on a report he was signing, so that it read, “Leonard Kirkwoo—” Zee, working at his compost pile, was tossing a shovel of mulch into a wheelbarrow. Not only did his shovel stop cold, but the tossed loam froze in midair. On the back veranda, a calico cat, who had been chasing a pesky flea, stopped scratching. It made no difference. The flea stopped too. Even the Sunday fried chicken ceased its sizzling in the black iron skillet on the stove in the kitchen.

  Silence fell. Swan’s Quarter waited for the retu
rn of the pair of time-travelers.

  So little time!

  Ginna closed her eyes, trying to shut out the inevitability of Channing’s words, but there was no way to escape that haunting echo. The war was coming and something was going to happen that would separate Virginia Swan from Channing McNeal forever. There would be no wedding, no future, no everlasting happiness for the two of them.

  Soon Ginna felt the room, the Fifth Avenue Hotel, the entire city of New York swirling around her. She grew dizzy and disoriented. She had experienced these uncomfortable sensations before, whenever she overtaxed her imperfect heart. She was going to faint. There was absolutely nothing she could do to stop herself.

  Bright pinpoints of light appeared against the red-black backdrop of her closed eyelids. Her whole body suddenly felt weightless. Next came a sensation of flying or falling through space. Then a fierce wind. Then nothing.

  “Ginna? Ginna!”

  Neal’s urgent cries parted the black curtains that had closed over her consciousness. She opened her eyes slowly, dreading what she might see. To her surprise and vast relief, the two of them were back in the greenhouse. Overhead, she saw the gnarled wisteria vine, its delicate, purple cascades of blossoms trembling in a slight breeze. And Neal was there, his arms around her waist, supporting her full weight.

  “God, you scared the life out of me!”

  She rubbed a hand over her eyes, then glanced up at the pane of glass where the ghostly shades of Virginia and Channing had wavered in the bright sunlight, such a short time before. The sun had moved higher. Their images were no longer visible.

  “What happened?” Neal asked.

  She stared at him, trying to decide if he recalled any of the bizarre adventure they had shared. She couldn’t tell for sure, although Neal’s dark eyes still held the lovelight that had kindled each time Channing looked at Virginia. But now he was Neal again, and she was just plain Ginna.

  She forced a faint smile. “Did you see the ghosts?”

  Neal looked at her blankly for a moment. He frowned, then nodded. “I saw them. It was eerie—like they were right here with us.”

  She could tell by his hesitant answer and the puzzled look on his face that he remembered more than he was willing to tell. Had they merely shared a common vision, or had they really traveled back in time? Whichever it was, Ginna guessed that Neal knew what they had been through together, whether he wanted to admit it or not.

  Ginna was right. Neal did remember most of what had happened, although he refused to admit the fact, even to himself. He chalked up the visions of New York to one more side effect of the trauma he had suffered at the time of the plane crash. Just another one of my weird dreams, he told himself. He decided not to think about it Instead, he turned his attention back to Ginna.

  “You fainted,” he accused. “I’m taking you to Dr. Kirkwood right now.”

  “I did not faint!” she argued. “I’ll be fine. Just give me a minute to catch my breath.”

  “No!” he stated bluntly. “You need a doctor, Ginna.”

  “Please, Neal.” Her voice softened, and she begged him with her eyes. “This has happened to me before. It’s a passing weakness. I’ll be all right, really I will.”

  He gazed at her uncertainly, his dark eyes once more filled with the old pain she knew so well. “Humor me. Okay, Ginna? I never had a woman go all limp on me before. I’m worried about you. I’d feel better if the doc took your blood pressure or gave you one of his magic pills.”

  At the moment, Ginna would have done anything to wipe the concern from Neal’s face. He had enough on his mind without having to worry about her. “I ll go,” she said quietly, “but I promise you, there’s nothing wrong.”

  “That’s my girl!”

  Neal made the remark casually, but something about the tone of his voice and the change in his eyes warmed Ginna through and through. He really cared what happened to her. Knowing that made her feel good.

  Neal knocked at the door, and the doctor called for them to come in. When they entered Kirkwood’s office, he was just adding the d to the end of his last name. A radio was playing classical music softly in the background. When Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony ended, a sultry-voiced announcer came on and said, “The time is now exactly twelve o’clock noon.”

  Dr. Kirkwood checked his watch and frowned. “Do you believe this? I just bought this watch last week and already it’s losing time.” He reset his expensive timepiece, running it ahead seven minutes. Then he turned his full attention to Ginna and Neal. “What can I do for you two?”

  “Somthing’s wrong with Ginna, Doc.” Neal blurted out what had happened, without giving Ginna a chance to say a word. “One minute she was standing next to me in the greenhouse, and the next minute it was like her bones turned to water. She just collapsed. Scared the hell out of me!”

  Kirkwood rose from his desk and led Ginna to his leather couch. He took her pulse, then said, “Roll up your sleeve, please.” When she complied, he fastened a blood pressure cuff around her arm.

  “A maidenly swoon, eh?” The doctor tried to cut the tension in the room with a small joke. It didn’t work. Neal only glared at him for taking Ginna’s condition so lightly.

  “Maybe she needs a real doctor,” Neal snapped back at him.

  “I apologize,” Dr. Kirkwood said. “I didn’t mean to minimize what happened. If you’ll wait outside, Neal, I’ll see what I can do to help.”

  Neal looked at Ginna questioningly. “It’s all right,” she said. “I’ll be out in a few minutes.”

  Reluctantly, Neal left the room.

  Leonard Kirkwood’s manner turned professionally serious, once he was alone with Ginna. “So, it happened again, exactly like last month, when Zee found you unconscious in the woods. Are you ready to tell me what’s going on, Ginna? The first time, you said you were running because it started raining and that you tripped and hit your head. I didn’t believe that then, since there was no bump on your head, and I don’t believe it now. But I do believe something is wrong with you. I also believe that you know exactly what it is. Am I right in my assumptions?”

  Ginna didn’t answer for a time. She wasn’t sure how much she should tell him. Instead, she let her gaze roam the room. Somehow she knew that this had been the plantation office back when Swan’s Quarter was a working tobacco farm. She could see a high plantation desk made of local pine as clearly as if it were here today, instead of Dr. Kirkwood’s modern desk with its smooth design of sleek, polished oak. She remembered working at that old desk. Long hours of backbreaking, eye-straining labor, bending over ledgers and writing sums by candlelight into the wee hours of the night. But how could she remember such things? She had never even been in Dr. Kirk-wood’s office before today.

  “Ginna? Am I right?” he prompted. “Are you ill?”

  “It’s nothing serious,” she answered, watching him remove the blood pressure cuff. “I had a restless night and skipped breakfast”

  “How about the truth, Ginna?”

  Ginna sighed. She had tried to be so careful. She didn’t want anyone at Swan’s Quarter to know about her condition. Still, Leonard Kirkwood was a doctor; he would have to keep her secret. And one of these days, she might need his help. She might go for years with nothing more serious than an occasional fainting spell, but…

  “It’s nothing new,” she began. “I was born with a slight heart defect. I’ve always figured that’s why my mother left me on the steps of the hospital, right after I was born. She could probably tell from the start something was wrong with me. I doubt if she could afford to take care of a sickly infant. I know for certain that’s why I was never adopted. I had interviews with plenty of prospective parents. When I was little, I used to wonder why I was always turned down. Then, when I was about eleven, I overheard one of the social workers discussing my case with a couple I had just been introduced to. They said they wanted a child desperately, but that I was not the one for two rea
sons. First, they were not financially able to provide the medical care I might need. Second, they said they could not bear the thought of taking me into their home and growing to love me, then possibly losing me at an early age. After they left, I asked the social worker what they meant I was really torn up. I could tell I had made a good impression and they really wanted me. I was sure I was going to have a home and a family, as of that very day.”

  “What did the social worker tell you?” Dr. Kirkwood asked gently, passing her a box of tissues. “Take your time, Ginna.”

  “She said that I was born with a deformity of the heart. Then she told me that was the reason they tried to keep me quiet most of the time. While the other kids at the home were out playing and running, I spent most of my time reading, coloring, or just staring out the window, wishing I could go out and pitch softball or jump rope.”

  “Have you undergone any corrective surgery?”

  Ginna shook her head. “There’s nothing that can be done through surgery, short of a heart transplant.”

  “Well, then …” Dr. Kirkwood brightened, thinking that would be a solution to her problem.

  “No,” she whispered. “I don’t want that, not even if I had a chance of ever finding a donor, and the odds are against that, since I don’t know who or where my family is. Besides, I’m single, no ties, no kids. I’d feel like I was cheating someone else if I put my name on the list.”

  “But Ginna …”

  Once again she cut him off. “I don’t want to talk about it please. Waiting for a heart would be like going through waiting for parents when I was a kid. My life’s fine. Maybe it won’t be as long as I’d like. Then again, I could live to be a hundred. I just need to start taking better care of myself, eating better and taking my vitamins. Visiting here at Swan’s Quarter helps, makes me realize how lucky I am.” She smiled shyly at the doctor. “And now there’s Neal…”