by Bess McBride
Nancy escorted Bertha away to the hats and left her there loudly complaining about “hired help” and “young women these days.” She returned to the accessory cabinet.
“There now, Mrs. Schultz. I will help you with your selection. Miss Holliday, could you await me in my office?”
“Mrs. Yates, please do not dismiss the poor girl,” Agnes said with a sympathetic glance toward Gem. “She did nothing wrong. My sister is too harsh by far. Really, most unkind. I intend to speak to her later.”
“Please do not trouble yourself, Mrs. Schultz. Thank you. Miss Holliday, if you would?” Nancy nodded toward the office.
Gem, humiliated, stepped out from behind the cabinet and hurried toward the office. She dropped onto one of the hardback chairs and mopped at the perspiration dripping down the sides of her cheeks. It wasn’t particularly hot in the shop, but the weight of her clothing and stress were taking their toll. She welcomed the chair, feeling oddly lightheaded, probably more so as she held her breath awaiting Nancy’s return.
When Nancy did finally return to the office, Gem jumped up. As she did so, the room spun, and she keeled over.
****
“Gem,” a deep voice said. “Gem, are you awake?”
Gem forced open her eyelids to see a dark blur above her. John’s bearded face came into focus. She looked beyond him to the now familiar ceiling of her bedroom.
“I got fired, didn’t I?” she mumbled.
“The doctor said that you were overheated,” John said. He slipped his arm beneath her to bring her to a sitting position on her bed, then reached for a glass of orange juice. “He said that you must drink and eat more and recommended fresh fruit. I should not have let you leave the house, knowing that you have only picked at your food.”
He took a seat on the side of the bed.
Gem, in a stupor, took the glass of juice from him and sipped it. She noted that she still wore her skirts, though her shoes had been removed. Her midriff felt remarkably comfortable, and her blouse lay loosely untucked from the waistband of her skirt, as if someone had unbuttoned and rebuttoned it.
“Did you undo my corset?” she murmured.
“No, not I. Mrs. Yates did even before I arrived. Cedric helped me carry you home. Unconscious as you were, I was not able to manage on my own.”
A dark shadow crossed his already troubled face.
“I must have fainted. I’ve never fainted before.”
“Yes, that is what Mrs. Yates said when she sent for me.”
“How did she send for you? She was alone.”
“Mrs. Landry came for me while Mrs. Schultz went for the doctor. Mrs. Landry was in quite a tizzy, incoherently babbling her apologies while I grabbed Cedric and ran out the door. I take it you had an altercation with her?”
Gem nodded and took another sip.
“Sort of. I don’t make a very good shop girl, I guess. Not to mention, I don’t know the names of all the clothing. I don’t know what a toque is.”
“Do not worry about that now. Mrs. Landry mentioned some surprise about you, your unfamiliarity with clothing styles, but I could not quite follow her words. I feared you might have disclosed something.”
“I hope not.”
“I do not think you did. Mrs. Schultz gave me an accounting of her sister’s behavior.”
“I just got so hot. I couldn’t stop sweating.”
“You are not used to so many garments, I believe.”
“No. Nor the level of stress that I feel.”
“No, of course not.”
John raised a hand to feel her forehead. The gesture touched her in its intimacy.
“Your skin is temperate.”
Gem nodded wordlessly. Humiliation gripped her.
“Was Nancy nice about firing me? I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to step foot inside her shop again.”
“That would be a shame,” John said.
“Well, I don’t need any more clothing. But I liked Nancy.”
“And she likes you. I spoke to her briefly about your accounting skills, and she has decided that you would be better employed doing her books while she manages customers. But you would have to ‘step foot inside her shop again’ to do so, I would imagine.”
Gem’s face broke out into a smile.
“Oh, really? Thank you! I’m so relieved! I couldn’t stand the feeling of failure.”
“No, I too abhor that feeling.”
“You? Since when have you failed?” Gem smiled weakly.
“Since I could not carry you home, or lift you and hand you a drink at the same time.”
“That’s not failure, John.”
“Perhaps, but neither is your struggle to begin a new life in a strange time. I admire your determination.”
Gem’s cheeks reddened. For some reason, John checked her temperature again.
“Still temperate?”
“Your skin is, yes. Perhaps not your disposition.”
“Ah! You mean Bertha Landry. After Mrs. Landry and Mrs. Schultz left, Mrs. Yates told me of Mrs. Landry’s complaints about you. I may not know you well, but I cannot imagine that you kept silent when berated in such a manner.”
“I didn’t, which is why I’m surprised Nancy didn’t boot me from the store there and then.”
“She seems a kind woman.”
Gem nodded. “Yes, I think so.”
“If it is at all helpful, I do believe that Mrs. Landry was genuinely remorseful that her behavior may have led to your faint.”
Gem scrunched her nose.
“Probably more the dehydration, I would think. I can’t faint every time I get anxious or stressed. Otherwise, I’ll find myself in a perpetual coma here in 1905.”
“Is it so very frightening here? I did hope to save you from such concerns.”
“You’ve done so much for me now, John. There’s only so much you can do though. But yes, I do find it overwhelming sometimes. I don’t know how I’m going to manage, how to get home. I don’t know what the future holds.”
John clucked under his breath. “I will help you in any way that I can, Gem. You know that.”
Gem’s cheeks burned at the intensity of his gaze.
“Are you going to help me go home when it’s time?”
“When is that?” he asked.
Chapter Sixteen
John’s chest constricted as he awaited Gem’s answer.
“I don’t know,” she answered vaguely. “I don’t even know how to try. It’s got to be the train. I think I have to get back on the train.”
“When?” he persisted. From Gem’s startled expression, he realized his tone had been sharper than he intended.
“I don’t know. If things were normal, I’d say, ‘But I just started a job. Why would I go now?’ Except things aren’t normal. I’m lost in time.”
John raised his head to look toward the window.
“Lost,” he repeated in a thick voice.
“Well, not lost exactly, but I don’t really belong here, do I? I don’t even know what a toque is.” Gem chuckled, though the sound seemed to hold little joy.
John watched her out of the corner of his eye. Tousled reddish-brown hair curled around her ears. The color in her cheeks was high, rosy really. Exquisitely blue eyes looked at him inquiringly, though he did not understand the question.
He imagined his life after Gem left, when she returned to her time. The absolute dreariness of the future loomed before him. She had been right. His life was void of promise. He would have no descendants. Not unless he married. And the only woman he could imagine ever wanting to marry, the only woman he could envision ever trusting enough to let her see his mangled body, sat beside him, desperate to go home, to leave him.
He wanted to grab Gem and shake her, to plead with her to stay...with him. But he couldn’t even grab her, couldn’t hold her, couldn’t take her into his arms. He didn’t have two arms.
John expelled the breath he had been holding. He hardened his heart and spo
ke.
“No, you do not belong here. Whatever I can do to help you return home, I will do. Short of riding the train. I will never ride another train.”
John rose, addressing her as he would one of his clients—with professional courtesy.
“Drink your juice and rest. Sally is preparing some broth, and I will bring that up in a few hours. The doctor said nothing too heavy for now, in case you faint again.”
He turned away, dismissing the moisture pooling in Gem’s eyes as distress at her continuing displacement in time. He thought he heard her call his name, but he did not turn around.
John strode out of the house and turned toward downtown, unsure of his destination. He simply had to get away from the house, from Gem. She had burst into the life that he had attempted to rebuild following his accident. She had taken from him any sense of normalcy that he’d known, had uprooted his beliefs in his heritage, had torn at his heartstrings, and now she begged for his help to return home, leaving a barren wasteland in her wake.
If he were a crying man, he would cry, but all he could do was swallow hard against the painful constriction in his throat.
John reached the town center before he was aware that he had, and he barely managed a nod to passersby who greeted him. He wandered in the direction of his office but came to an abrupt halt at the doorway of the building as the sound of a train’s whistle rent the air.
Turning to face the train station across the street, his body involuntarily stiffened and his skin crawled. His arm ached, and he reached for it to find nothing there.
John grimaced. As if he couldn’t hate trains more, one now threatened to take Gem away. He turned his back to the station, but another blast of the train’s whistle forced him to look over his shoulder.
Steam billowed in the distance as the black locomotive approached. John watched in horrid fascination, unable to turn his eyes away. As if some strange power possessed him, he crossed the street on leaden legs, working his way through wagons awaiting supplies and passengers. He pushed open the door of the station to find people moving about—some rose from wooden benches and collected bags, others stood by the windows watching the approaching train, and still others lined up in front of the station agent’s window, purchasing tickets.
Another blast from the train’s whistle galvanized John. He approached the ticket line, thrust his icy hand into his trouser pocket and took his place. The hiss of steam and scream of brakes echoed throughout the station as the train pulled in. He had no idea what he would say when the line dissipated, but all too soon, it was he who stood in front of the ticket agent.
“Can I help you?” the gray mustached man asked.
“I’d like to buy a ticket to Seattle on tomorrow’s train, a sleeping compartment,” he said.
“Just one, sir?”
“Yes, just one.”
As if in a trance, John handed over the money and took the ticket. He noted the departure time before pocketing the ticket. Keeping his back to the view of the train through the windows, he walked out of the station on shaking legs and crossed the street. He dragged himself up to his office, greeted Cedric woodenly and closed the door to his inner space.
From a safe distance, he crossed to the window, fingered the ticket in his pocket and stared at the activity at the station. Wagons departed the station, even an automobile or two, bearing goods and passengers.
The following day, the train would leave with Gem as one of those passengers. Mrs. Yates would have to find another bookkeeper. If Gem wanted to leave, and if it were possible for her to travel forward in time, then there was no reason for her to delay.
He thrust away his concerns that she might not find her way through time, that she might find herself stranded in Seattle. He would settle enough money on her so that if she could not effect the travel through time, if she found herself in Seattle in 1905, she either could stay there and build her life or could return to Montana...or go anywhere she wanted.
That was what he would do! He left the office, feeling more certain of himself than he had felt in the past week. He hated the vulnerability that women evoked in him. Not since Cassandra had he felt so exposed to emotion.
No, he thought. That was not true. He had never felt so vulnerable with Cassandra, not as he did with Gem. She seemed to know more about him than even he knew, and he had let his guard down.
But that was over. He did not need romantic love, he did not need to marry, and his life would go on as it had before Gem arrived. It must!
Upon his return to the house, John stepped into the kitchen to pick up some broth for Gem. Sally had set a bowl of broth and some bread on a silver tray.
“No need to trouble yourself, John. I can take it up to her. You do not need to wait on your guests.”
“Thank you, Sally. I will take it. I would rather keep some distance between you two. Frankly, I’ve been appalled at your behavior toward her, though I have already spoken to you about it.”
John felt like a cad. Hadn’t Sally just made soup for Gem?
“I gave you my opinion,” Sally said with a raised eyebrow. “That hasn’t changed. I’m sorry she’s ill.”
“She’s not ill. She’s exhausted and worried. She hasn’t eaten well, and this is the result.”
“As I said, I’m sorry to hear that,” Sally said. “I cannot imagine what must be worrying her.”
She nodded toward the tray, but John didn’t pick it up. Instead, he studied the tall woman, searching for a resemblance. Prominent cheekbones dominated her angular face. Her gray hair, pulled severely back at the crown, held a distinctive wave.
“I want to ask you something.” John could not believe what he was about to do. Surely there was some better time!
“Yes?” Sally asked, turning from the stove.
“Have you ever been married, Sally? I know we call you Mrs. Stanton, but I don’t recall a husband.”
Sally’s face reddened, and she pursed her lips.
“What a question to ask, John! Really!”
“I know it seems impertinent, and is, in fact, not my business as your employer, but you have been with the family for a long time. It’s a simple question, really, when compared to what I want to ask.”
Sally hunched a shoulder to him and resumed stirring something in a pot. Her voice, when she responded, was curt.
“No, I’ve never been married. It is just a courtesy title. Many housekeepers are called Mrs.”
“Have you ever had children?”
As Sally’s face had reddened, it now blanched. She turned to stare at him with darkened eyes.
“John Morrison! How could you ask me such a thing? Didn’t I just say that I had never been married?”
“Yes, but you did not say whether you’d had children.”
“I find this very rude of you, John, and I’m very surprised by it. I am offended that you should question me this way!”
“I understand that you might be insulted, but all you really have to say is yes or no, Sally.”
“What drives these questions? You have never asked me such things! Did that woman put you up to it? Is she trying to drive a wedge between us?”
“Between us?” John snapped. “You are my housekeeper! Not a family member. What wedge should anyone put between us, Sally? How many impediments have you tried to put between Gem and me?”
“I have done nothing but take care of the Morrison family and then you. You are blind, John. You were blind to that silly girl, Cassandra, who cared nothing for you in your time of need, and now this woman comes from some vague place and announces she is related to you. Well, she is not related to you, John.”
“And how could you possibly know that?”
“Because I know everyone to whom you are related.”
“Which begs the question again, Sally. Have you ever had children? No, never mind dancing about the subject. Let me ask you directly. Am I your son?”
There! It was out. He had finally asked the question.
&
nbsp; Sally gasped and stepped back, her face contorting into an expression of disbelief.
John knew instant shame that he could have spoken to her in such a manner. Clearly, he was wrong. Gem had been wrong. Sally was not his mother, and he had treated his housekeeper abominably.
“Who told you?” she whispered. “No one alive today knows that!”
John’s jaw dropped. He had never really believed Gem’s theory. Not truly. He could not imagine Sally and his father in an intimate setting. His father perhaps, but stern Sally?
“Then it’s true?” he rasped. “You and my father? What my mother must have suffered!”
Tears pooled in Sally’s eyes, and John took a step back. He had never seen his undemonstrative housekeeper cry.
“Your mother, John? I suppose you mean Amelia Morrison?”
John realized how cruel his words must have sounded. “I am sorry, Sally. I did not mean to suggest that you too did not suffer. I am struggling to understand how I could not have known all these years. We resemble each other. How did I not see that?”
Sally wiped her hands on her apron and sank down into a chair at the small kitchen table where she had her meals. John looked at the table. His mother had eaten alone all his life. While another woman smiled at the son she knew was not hers.
“Did my mother...did Amelia know that I was your child? And that of her husband?”
Sally propped her elbows on the table and buried her face in her hands.
“Yes,” she murmured. “Yes.”
John crossed the room slowly and pulled out a chair at the table.
“I will not humiliate you by asking how this came about, Sally. Again, I regret that I didn’t know, that I failed to recognize you. When Gem told me her suspicions, I could hardly believe her.”
Sally looked up, her eyes now dry. Anger contorted her expression.
“Gem,” she said bitterly. “So she was the one. How could she possibly have known?”
John tried not to take offense. However he and Sally might conduct themselves in the future as mother and son, at the moment, he remembered her only as the housekeeper. He bit off an impending lecture.
