by Bess McBride
“Yes, you do,” he murmured with affection.
“I understand,” Susan said with a grave expression. “Your secret is safe with me.”
“I know it is, Susan. You’re very mature for your age.”
“Thank you,” Susan said with a blush.
“So, you probably realize that if I say it is best not to leave Dani notes in certain buildings, it’s because I believe they are now gone...or will be gone.”
Susan nodded, wide eyed. Stephen was not absolutely sure the events of the past week had not been too much for his young sister, notwithstanding her illness. She was so young, how could she understand the concept of progress in the form of destruction of many of the city’s grand buildings?
Stephen rose. “We must go, Ellie, if we are to make our way around the city. Please give Robert my best.”
“I will. He had pressing business at the bank today, otherwise he would have been here to greet you.”
“I had forgotten! Dani sent back some of the clothes she borrowed. I will have them delivered to you tomorrow.”
Ellie followed them to the door. “Keep them for now, Stephen. If she gets our mail, she may need them.”
Stephen kissed her cheek. “I am grateful for your encouragement,” he said quietly. “It eases me.”
****
Later, the notes having been dropped at strategic locations throughout the city that Ellie felt might survive into the twenty-first century, Stephen and Susan returned to the house. Stephen removed his derby and dropped it on the hall table in the foyer.
“I think you need to lie down, Susan. I should not have had you running about the city so soon after your illness.” Her face was pale.
“It was my idea, Stephen,” she said, her voice raspier than in the morning. “But not for anything in the world would I have missed the sight of you skulking about buildings looking for crevices in which to hide the notes.” Her face brightened with a mischievous smile.
Stephen chuckled. He had looked the fool, but Susan had enjoyed the spectacle, and it pleased him to hear her laugh.
“The chances of Dani finding any of those notes are slender, my dear.”
“I know,” she said, sobering, “but not of the notes at Mrs. Chamberlain’s house or the ones you shall leave her here. Where will you put them?” She looked around the house. “Will you leave them in the house or outside?”
Stephen shook his head. “I do not know, dearest. I cannot say if this house will still stand in Dani’s time, and if so, who might own it by then.”
“It will remain in our family, Stephen, I am certain of that.”
Stephen swallowed hard. “Then you shall have to convince your future husband to live in your house as it is likely I may not have children.” He attempted a smile to soften his words but failed.
Susan narrowed her eyes. “Stephen Sadler! Stop speaking that way at once.” She stomped her foot for emphasis. “Of course, you shall marry and have children.”
Stephen tightened his jaw. He had revealed too much of his pain to his young sister who was still unwell. He needed to guard his tongue better.
“Of course, dear.” He kissed her on the cheek. “Now, go rest.”
Susan threw one more worried look in his direction before turning away to ascend the stairs, her step visibly fatigued.
Stephen eyed the remaining two notes in his hand from Susan and himself. It was not inconceivable that Dani, on her return to her own home in Seattle, might look for the house. Whether it continued to stand or not was not certain, but if it did, where might she find a letter addressed to her without knowing it existed?
Chapter Twelve
Dani staggered off the train in Seattle at about 10:30. The morning sky was overcast as usual. Numb, she wandered aimlessly into the train station uncertain of her next move. Putting one foot in front of the other seemed to be the only thing she could manage. She remembered having some firm plans to hop off the train and purchase an immediate return trip to get back to Whitefish, but her feet didn’t lead her to the ticket counter. She followed them to the parking lot in a vague search of her car. Had she even left it there so many years ago? Taken a taxi? She couldn’t remember.
Since she’d lost Stephen, she’d had difficulty focusing, and she wondered if she’d lost her mind, perhaps had a breakdown, or even become delusional? Was this what insanity felt like?
She wandered further into the parking lot. She had no keys. She had nothing but the clothes she wore, her temporary ID and some money in her pocket. What good would it do to find her car, even had she left it there?
Dani turned around and retraced her circuitous steps back to the station, presenting herself at the customer service window. Yes, they had retrieved her purse. They verified her picture on her driver’s license. A miracle it was not stolen, they said. She hardly cared. Were the keys in it? She rummaged through the bag. Keys.
When she left the building again, a heavy rain started to fall. Good. Why not? She found her car and climbed inside, settling herself into the driver’s seat. Placing two hands on the steering wheel, she pressed her head against the wheel and alternately screamed and sobbed for the next half hour as rain pelted the hood of her car. Everything she could not beg for, curse about or shout over at the loss of Stephen on the train came out of her now in the privacy of her car. No one tapped on her window to ask what was wrong with the shrieking woman. The rain provided a cover for her noisy grief, though she barely cared.
No sooner had Stephen’s breathing relaxed into a pattern of sleep, than his image had begun to fade in and out, and his body grown insubstantial. She herself had felt dizzy from swirling images of colors. Blackness had threatened to descend. Though her instincts had told her to hang onto Stephen, to wrap herself around him, she let him go. The image of the single tear slipping down her mother’s face grew stronger, pushing the colors out of reach. When it was over, she sat there alone, and Stephen was gone.
While on the train, she had changed her mind several times—deciding to go with Stephen, then standing by her earlier decision to stay with her mother, and then again giving into her heart’s desire to stay with him. It had only been a matter of timing—the swinging of the pendulum had fallen and the travel occurred when she felt the pull of her mother’s grief as strong as she felt her need to remain with Stephen. And she had let go.
Spent, her throat raw from her shrieks and sobs, Dani rubbed her eyes and rested her head on the seatback, a vague plan forming in her mind. She would return to her mother’s house tomorrow, but she would stay the night in Seattle, in her own condo. And at the immediate moment, she would see if she could find Stephen’s house.
The rain had eased by the time Dani left the train station and headed north to Queen Anne Hill. With the advent of paved roads, traffic lights, housing congestion and overgrown trees, she struggled to find the road on which Stephen’s house had been, and she directed a baleful glance at her phone—the GPS dead along with the battery. Once she found the street, she couldn’t find a house that remotely resembled his, and she wondered with a sinking heart if his house had been demolished—Stephen’s beautiful gabled Queen Anne-style mansion.
Out of the corner of her eye, Dani spotted the roofline of a house, the house itself mostly hidden by large trees. Something about the pitch of the roofline looked familiar, and she pulled the car over to peer down the driveway—the only clearing through which one could see the house.
She thought at first that she had found Stephen’s house but soon realized that the roofline didn’t show the turrets and gables of Stephen’s house. Her heart raced as she realized that the front of the house, although repainted and modified, bore a strong resemblance to Ellie’s house.
On shaking legs, Dani climbed out of her car and slowly walked up the driveway, intently studying the landscape and structure of the house to see if she recognized any details. She climbed the stairs and, with a shaking hand, knocked on the front door, or at least what she thought was t
he front door. The house was large, and for all she knew, the front could have been around the back. So many years had passed, though she’d seen the house only several days ago in 1901, and then only at night.
Dani clasped her trembling hands behind her back. What would she say if someone answered? She had no earthly idea. The address was etched into an old mailbox by the front door. It seemed familiar, yet she couldn’t remember seeing an address prominently displayed at Ellie’s house. It had only been known as the Chamberlain House, as Stephen’s had been known as the Sadler House.
An image of the address written down on a card came to mind, but she couldn’t remember where she’d seen the image. Her breaths were shallow and fast as she awaited a response to her knock. She knocked again, and tried the doorbell. No car sat in the driveway. Maybe no one was home.
Deflated, Dani turned to descend the brick steps. Several looked loose, and she stepped over them tentatively, thinking the owner should throw some new mortar on them. Pausing at the bottom of the stairs, Dani took a last look at the house. It looked so much like Ellie’s, but she couldn’t be sure. A thick hedge hid the foundation of the house, and too many large overgrown oak and maple trees, their leaves turning red for fall, hid the contours of the house.
She climbed back into her car, and with a last look toward the house, drove away. She tried to remember where Ellie’s house had been in relation to Stephen’s. Not more than a mile it seemed, but which way? As Dani rounded the corner, she noted that the back of the house she’d just stopped at descended down a heavily treed slope to another street. She traveled down that street for a few moments, but it ended abruptly, forcing her to turn left and drive back up the hill to yet another road. Having spent almost no time in Queen Anne Hill in the present time, Dani had no idea the roads were so narrow or tortuous. They certainly hadn’t felt that way in Stephen’s time.
Two miles down the road, she spotted what she’d been looking for—a witch’s cap on a gabled roof. She slowed and parked across the street. There seemed to be no driveway on this house, not unusual for the old homes on Queen Anne Hill. Stephen’s carriage had deposited them in front of the house before disappearing somewhere to the rear to park and unhitch the horses. She hadn’t had time to figure out the process.
This house lacked the overgrown trees of the previous house, but the landscaping was much different than it had been in Stephen’s time. In 1901, the landscaping had been sparser, less mature, less regimented than it was now. A few young trees had adorned the grass between the sidewalk and the road. Massive power poles had flanked the house. None of those were in evidence now.
The color of the house was different, lighter, the shingles probably having been replaced. Though sandwiched as it was now next to a narrow white Colonial mansion and a Tudor-style house which had not existed in 1901, Dani nevertheless recognized the house as Stephen’s.
Her heart thudded, and she felt almost nauseous with excitement at the wild thought that if she were to walk up to the house and knock on the door, Mrs. Oakley might answer and tell her that Stephen was in his library.
She climbed out of the car, and on shaking legs, crossed the street to step onto the sidewalk. A small iron gate had been erected with a short fence and hedge serving to ensure bystanders didn’t wander onto the lawn. Dani looked up at the long-paned decorative windows almost imaging Stephen watched and waited for her. Perhaps Susan would wave from a window.
The pain she thought she’d left behind at the train station resurfaced, and she struggled for air, her chest aching. At that very moment in time, as she stood on the sidewalk with her hand on the gate, the realization that Stephen and Susan were dead brought a wave of dizziness, and she gripped the gate with both hands. Despite her best efforts, tears spilled down her face, and she sagged against the gate on weakened legs.
The front door opened, and a woman called out.
“Can I help you? Are you all right?” A tall woman with gray hair came out to the gate and peered into Dani’s face with startling bright green eyes. “Miss? Are you all right?”
Dani shook her head but could not speak.
“Should I call an ambulance?” The older woman, appearing to be in her late 80s, looked up and down the street. “Are you on foot?”
Dani could only shake her head. If she opened her mouth, she thought she might scream. Stephen was dead. Though he lived in the past—a wonderfully vibrant loving man—in her time, he was dead.
“Is that your car?” The woman asked. She indicated Dani’s car across the street.
Dani nodded.
“Well, you’re in no shape to drive. You don’t look well. Why don’t you come inside and I’ll get you a glass of water?” She pulled open the gate, and Dani almost lost her footing so tightly did she still grip it.
“This gate wasn’t here,” Dani mumbled inconsequentially.
“What?” The woman paused and stared at her.
“This gate wasn’t original to the house.” Dani finally let go of the gate and attempted to straighten.
“That’s right,” the woman said. “It’s only about fifteen years old. How did you know that? Come inside, it’s starting to rain again.” She pulled her cardigan tighter.
Dani followed her robotically through the front door and into the foyer. Even after all these years, the foyer was as beautiful as ever, almost unchanged.
“I’m Edwina Sutton, by the way. And you are?” Mrs. Sutton showed her into the parlor which faced the back of the house, just where it had always been. Dani stared out the window over the city of Seattle, the view much different than it had been.
“Dani Douglas,” she stated mechanically. Bemused, she turned around to inspect the room further.
A young blonde woman came to the door, with a suspicious look in Dani’s direction. “Is everything all right, Mrs. Sutton?”
“Yes, Tammy, thank you. Would you please get Miss Douglas a glass of water? Or would you like tea, Miss Douglas? It might help revive you.”
Dani nodded wordlessly as she struggled for control.
Tammy left.
“My helper,” Mrs. Sutton said with a wry smile. “My brother insisted I needed someone to watch over me, and my children and grandchildren agree. I’m lucky I get to stay in my own home.”
“Please sit down,” she said hurriedly as Dani weaved unsteadily. The furnishings had changed but the fireplace mantle, and the woodwork were the same. Dani sank into a forest green velvet easy chair.
“I was actually coming to knock on your door, Mrs. Sutton.” Now that tea had been mentioned, Dani longed for a cup, her mouth suddenly dry.
“Oh, really? What can I do for you?” Green eyes, somehow oddly familiar, regarded her with interest.
“I used to know the family—that is...” Dani swallowed hard. She hadn’t prepared anything. “I was interested in the family who owned this house back in 1901.”
Mrs. Sutton nodded, again with interest. “Yes? And why did you want to know about them? Is it the house? It’s a registered historic landmark, you know.”
Dani shook her head. “No, I didn’t know.” Stephen would have been so pleased.
“Oh, I thought you knew. The Sadler House.”
Dani gasped.
“Oh, my goodness, Miss Douglas! Whatever is the matter? I really think I should call you an ambulance.” Mrs. Sutton stood, but Dani jumped up to put a staying hand on her arm.
“No, don’t! I’m not sick. I’ve just been traveling all night, and I’m a little tired. I just didn’t realize the house was still called Sadler House.”
Mrs. Sutton retook her seat, now eyeing her as suspiciously as Tammy had.
“Well, many of these old houses retained the names of the owners. Before they had street addresses, you know?”
Dani did know.
Tammy entered, carrying a tea service. She set the tray down on an oval mahogany table that looked vaguely familiar, and she left.
Mrs. Sutton poured out tea.
&nbs
p; “Is that table original to the house, Mrs. Sutton?”
She looked at the table. “Yes, I believe it is.” She handed Dani a cup of tea. “I inherited it from my mother.”
Dani’s cup clattered in her saucer. She gulped some hot tea, soothing to her raw throat.
“Do you mean to say that some of the furniture stayed with the house?”
“Oh, yes, much of it has. What I don’t have downstairs is either upstairs or in the attic.” Mrs. Sutton eyed the table lovingly.
Dani thought again how happy Stephen would be to know that his things had remained intact. She thrust aside the thought that his wife would probably have been pleased as well.
“So, the furniture was sold intact with the house?”
Mrs. Sutton cocked her head. “Sold? This house has never been sold that I know of. It’s been in my family since the late 1800s.”
Dani jerked, spilling her tea on her T-shirt.
“Oh, dear, here’s a napkin.” Mrs. Sutton handed her one.
Dani searched her face, studying her features. Stephen’s grandchild? Could she possibly be looking at Stephen’s granddaughter?
“Are you...are you Stephen Sadler’s granddaughter?”
“Stephen Sadler?” Mrs. Sutton laughed. “Oh, no, not Stephen Sadler. My grandmother was Susan Sadler Richardson. Stephen Sadler was her brother.”
Dani could have cried to see Susan’s descendent. She longed to throw herself upon the older woman and ask a million questions—about Susan, about Stephen. Relief that Susan had survived her illnesses and gone on to have a family filled Dani with joy and pride. And here was her granddaughter.
“I didn’t know she’d married,” Dani whispered. “I thought she was sickly.”
“How could you possibly know that?” Mrs. Sutton said. “You’re right. She was ill a lot, until she turned about eighteen according to my mother. Then she just started improving, and went on to get married and have children.”
