by Bess McBride
“No, no, not I, Miss St. John,” Rory said with a twitch of his lips. “My attempts to revive you, short-lived as they were, involved calling your name and placing a hand lightly upon your cheek. Your sister, however, came upon us at the moment and thought I was…em…abusing you. She was quite the tigress in your defense.”
Marie sat back against the opposite wall of the narrow hallway facing both Rory and Annie. She crossed her arms.
“So, what was the shock?”
“Shock?” Annie asked with a quick glance in Rory’s direction. Rory knew nothing about her, but even he could tell she stalled for time. He thought he saw a plea in her eyes, but he did not know what she required of him.
“Shock,” Marie said.
“Ummm…shock, yeah, shock,” Annie hedged.
“Perhaps the date?” Rory offered.
“What about the date, Rory?” Marie looked to Rory, but he deferred a response by turning to Annie.
Annie pulled her knees to her chest in a most unladylike fashion, and rested her elbows on her knees as she rubbed her eyes.
“Annie!” Marie urged.
“Give me a minute,” Annie said. “I don’t quite know how to say this.”
Rory regarded both of them with interest. There was something so eccentric about the sisters—at once charming and yet unsettling.
“What?” Marie squeaked impatiently. “Just spit it out!”
“Oh, my gosh, Marie! Fine! I think we’ve traveled back in time.” Annie shot a quick look toward Rory, who stiffened at her words.
“Traveled back in time?” Marie and Rory said in unison. “Impossible!” Rory said with a shake of his head. “Whatever can you mean?” He ignored all the signs that pointed toward some untoward event.
Marie was not so quick to denounce Annie’s theory, he noted. She stared at her sister for a moment and then turned to survey the train.
“What year do you think it is?” she asked her sister in a small voice, which cracked on the last word.
Annie turned to Rory with an imploring look.
“I can’t say it. You tell her!”
“Ladies, I do not pretend to understand what is happening here. It is almost as if you play a trick on me, but I do not know you and do not understand why I would be the target of such a practical joke.” He could barely keep the exasperation from his voice. “The date is June 5, 1906. You are on the Oriental Limited on the way to Seattle.”
“1906,” Marie breathed.
“Don’t faint,” Annie warned her. Rory noted she favored her sister with a sympathetic smile.
“Ladies, I think I will return to my compartment. Perhaps I am short on sleep. Perhaps this is all just a bad dream,” Rory muttered as he pushed himself off the floor.
“Wait!” Annie called out. She grasped his arm, forcing him to slide back down to the floor in an ignominious position. “You can’t just leave us. Even if you don’t think time travel is possible, and believe me, buddy, I definitely didn’t think it was, you can’t just leave us here. We need help. What if we get into Seattle and it’s still 1906?”
“But of course it will be 1906 when we arrive,” Rory almost snapped. These women were sorely testing his Irish mother’s lessons in manners. But she had also taught him chivalry, and he forced himself to stay though his sole desire was to be done with the peculiar train trip and to be comfortably ensconced in his home in Seattle. “However, I will concede that something is amiss here. What may I do to assist you ladies?”
“At this point,” Annie muttered in a voice similar to his, “I can’t imagine what you couldn’t do for us.” She looked toward Marie, whose cheeks burned brightly. “If it really is 1906 Seattle, we don’t have any money. Our purses are missing. We don’t have anyplace to stay, and we don’t know anybody in Seattle.”
Rory did not hesitate. “I can offer you some funds and assist you in procuring a hotel for a week or so while you arrange your affairs or are able to contact others. Would that be helpful to you?”
“Oh, yes, thank you, Mr. O’Rourke, that would be great! I hate to ask since you’re a stranger, but…” Annie shrugged her shoulders helplessly with a rueful expression. He noted irreverently that she used the usual formal term of address for him, whereas her sister used his first name in a more familiar, if inappropriate, manner given the length of their acquaintanceship.
“You are welcome. And now, ladies, I believe I will return to my compartment with your permission. We will arrive in Seattle in a few hours. I suggest you get what rest you can.” He rose and stood over them, loath to leave them while they still sat unceremoniously on the floor like a pair of orphaned waifs.
“Come, ladies, I cannot leave you wallowing about on the cold floor.” He reached down to help Annie stand and then Marie.
“Thank you,” Annie said. Her sister nodded her thanks.
He watched as they entered their own compartment before entering his own. Annie’s face of unease as she looked over her shoulder softened his heart…a little. Her expression suggested she thought he might withdraw his offer of aid and disappear in the night.
“I will see you shortly, Miss St. John. Do not worry.” Rory hoped he sounded much more reassuring than he felt. Save for giving the young women some money and putting them up in a hotel room, he had no earthly idea what else to do with them. Time traveling, indeed! He thought not!
Chapter Two
Despite his fatigue, Rory did not sleep a wink, the gentleman in him keeping an alert ear tuned for a soft knock on his door or the sound of distress in the next compartment such as he had heard earlier. Though he heard no untoward noise, he remained awake, his body tense in anticipation of rising to render aid.
Their individual beauty had not been lost on him even in the midst of their surreal meeting—Annie, petite with her lovely hair the color of autumn leaves, and Marie, taller with striking, gold-highlighted blonde hair. Banishing the vision of their lithe lower limbs from his mind, he forced himself to concentrate less on their physical appearance and more on their state of mind. It was possible that one of the sisters might be experiencing some sort of delusion, but that both women should fall victim to the same fantasy was indeed disturbing. A familial trait? An inherited mental disease? He contemplated contacting his physician to make inquiries into the matter but deferred a decision for the moment. Not only were the sisters likely to be confined to the psychiatric facility at Western State Hospital for observation, it was possible the good doctor would wish to extend an invitation for him to sojourn in the hospital awhile as well.
No, it would not do. He could not imagine the sisters in such a facility. He would do what he could to ensure their safety and comfort for as long as necessary, though he had only verbally committed to a week. How he could best handle the matter taxed him at the moment, but he knew he had no time to waste in devising a scheme. A survey of his pocket watch showed six o’clock. They would reach Seattle in approximately two hours. The first order of business, and the first test of his ingenuity, was breakfast. The Misses St. John certainly could not go to the dining room car dressed in their current attire.
Rory climbed out of bed and dressed quickly, suddenly concerned they might choose, in the light of day, to saunter through the adjoining sleeping car and into the dining room. He did not like to think what might happen to them there or whether they would even be waited upon.
He exited his compartment and tapped on their door.
Annie, her hair charmingly tousled, opened the door with a hesitant smile. Beyond her, he could see the shades had been raised, and soft early morning light filled the compartment. Marie, her head tucked against the wall, still slept on the bench.
“Good morning, Mr. O’Rourke,” Annie said. The lilt in her voice suggested a more optimistic outlook than the previous night.
“Good morning, Miss St. John. I cannot help but notice that your sister sleeps on the bench. Please tell me that you and she did not sleep upright all night.”
S
he turned to look at her sister before returning her attention to him with a look of surprise.
“Well, the benches aren’t long enough to really lie down on, so we just sat up. It’s not the first time I’ve slept sitting up, let me tell you—especially on road trips.”
Rory cursed himself. “My apologies, Miss St. John. I didn’t realize you were not aware that the benches fold down into a sleeper berth. Normally the porter attends to that, but I could have assisted you.”
She studied at the bench again, and laughed. “Oh, really? We didn’t even think to check on that. That’s okay. We got some sleep. I have to admit, though, I’m starved.”
“Ah, yes, I am sure you are, and that is why I hastened over to tap on your door this morning.” He hesitated, keeping his eyes trained on her face and nowhere else. “With all due respect, Miss St. John, it would not be seemly for you or your sister to be seen in public in your current…em…costumes. I realize how discourteous my words may sound to you at the moment, and I apologize, but your attire is…unexpected…and would elicit comment. I am not at all certain you could be seated for breakfast. You say you have nothing with you? No baggage? No other clothing?”
Annie tilted her head to the side and regarded him with her lips pressed together, almost as if she were prepared to both laugh and cry at the same time.
“Nope, nothing.”
“Miss St. John! Are you laughing? I can assure you I am very serious about this.”
“I know you are, Mr. O’Rourke, but there’s nothing I can do about it. If I don’t laugh, I’m going to cry.” She turned to look at her sister. “Is there a chance you could bring us back some food after you eat?”
Rory could not imagine how he might ask the waiter for extra food to bring back to the observation car. He checked his pocket watch again. Six-fifteen. The porter would arrive soon, and perhaps other passengers might visit the car, although the hour was still early for that.
“I will see what I can do, Miss St. John. In the meantime, I think it best if you and your sister remain in your compartment. If you need to freshen up, there is a women’s lavatory just next to your compartment, but I would make haste before the porter arrives.”
“Okay, we will. Thanks.”
Rory gave her a small bow. “My pleasure, Miss St. John.”
She shut the door, and he turned away and made his way through the sleeper car and to the dining car. Being one of the first passengers to arrive, he was seated promptly. A waiter handed him a menu and poured him a cup of coffee. Rory studied the menu, wondering how on earth he was going to enjoy a leisurely breakfast while the women went hungry and without food.
“I noted the porter in the compartment-observation car served coffee, tea, sandwiches and bullion yesterday,” Rory said to the waiter upon his return. “Do you know if he will be serving again this morning, given our imminent arrival?”
The middle-aged waiter shook his head. “No, sir. There won’t be any sandwiches or soup this morning in the observation car. You might still be able to get coffee or tea there, though.”
Rory sighed. “Well, I wonder if I could make an request. My…sisters are not feeling well, and they do not wish to present themselves to the dining room. Could the cook prepare something for them to eat? Perhaps some sandwiches? I could take the food to them myself.”
“Sure,” the amiable waiter said. “We can have the porter take the food to them. No need to carry the food yourself, sir.”
“Oh, no,” Rory said. “No trouble at all.” Rory closed his menu. He knew he could not do more than enjoy his coffee while he waited for the food. “In fact, could you ask the cook to prepare a sandwich for me as well? I think I will join my sisters. And put the whole in a small container of some sort. I do not wish to be seen carrying a tray through the length of two cars. Thank you.”
The waiter nodded and moved away, and Rory sipped his coffee and contemplated the scenery from the window. Evergreen trees huddled near the tracks, forming a lush gauntlet. He knew they had reached the mountains but could not see the hills for the thickness of the dense forests.
So engrossed was he that he failed to note when two women and a man were seated at the table next to him. One of the women faced him, an attractive woman in a fetching beribboned hat who looked to be about twenty-five. The other woman, middle-aged, sat next to the man, and he assumed they were husband and wife. He was not at all certain he would have noticed the threesome except for the frequent glances the young redheaded woman directed toward him caught his eye. He was not immune to the admiration of a beautiful woman, and would normally have engaged in a flirtatious exchange with the lady, but at the moment he could think of little else but a pair of bewildered sisters wearing little more than bathing costumes who needed his help.
He favored the redhead with a brief smile, paid his bill and left the dining car, feeling not a little foolish carrying a basket resembling a picnic hamper, heavy with dishes and cutlery and covered with linen napkins.
When he returned to the compartment-observation car, the porter had indeed arrived. Rory cast a quick glance around to see that the sisters were not in sight. The porter ran forward to assist Rory with the basket, but Rory waved him away.
“Thank you, no. I have just picked up some food for my sisters who are not feeling well. Could you prepare some tea and coffee? I’ll come and get the beverages and take them to my sisters.”
The porter gave him a surprised look but nodded and moved away to the front of the car toward the small kitchen, not much larger than a closet.
Rory set the basket down and tapped lightly on the young women’s compartment door. He listened carefully, but heard no response in answer to his knock. He cast a quick look toward the front of the car, but the porter was not in sight. He knocked again, this time harder. Still no response.
“Miss St. John,” he called in a low voice. “It is Mr. O’Rourke. I have brought food. Are you there?”
No response. Rory wondered if they had gone to use the lavatory and had been trapped there by the porter’s arrival. He ensured the porter was still out of sight, and he moved toward the lavatory and rapped on the door.
“Miss St. John! Are you in there?”
There was no response to his knock. Had they disappeared? Was it possible that they had indeed traveled in time and had vanished back to wherever they had come from? No, he refused to entertain such a theory.
Rory turned away from the door of the lavatory and surveyed the length of the observation room, lined on both sides with dark green plush chairs. The room was silent, empty, the seats vacant. He slumped against the wall, crossing his arms across his chest and stared unseeingly at the carpet. Weariness overcame him. Either Miss St. John and her sister had made their way to another compartment unseen by him, though that seemed unlikely, or they had vanished into thin air as rapidly as they had arrived.
Was he so tired that he had conjured them up? Had his mind played tricks on him? He rubbed his eyes and bent to retrieve the basket before the porter returned with the beverages. A flash of movement at the far end of the car caught his eye. A large plate-glass window looked out over the observation deck, but the window had been shuttered for the night. The smaller window in the door, however, was uncovered, and it was through that window that Rory had seen a spot of color—the turquoise color of Miss Annie St. John’s blouse.
They were on the observation deck? In the open? What had possessed them? His anger at their disregard for his warnings warred with his relief that they had not somehow vanished.
Rory, picnic basket in hand, strode through the observation room and pushed open the door. Annie leaned over the side of the railing gazing at the ground flying past, her hair billowing in the wind. Marie reclined in a chair tucked up against the wall, appearing as if she felt ill. A red and white striped awning blocked the sun from her face.
“Good gravy, Miss St. John! I expressly directed you to stay in your compartment!” He addressed himself to Annie, almost s
houting to be heard above the wind and the rumbling of the train on the tracks. “The porter is within, and he will soon see you given the brightness of your blouse.”
Annie whipped around at his voice. She looked toward her sister with a look of concern before turning back to him with a raised brow and narrowed dark eyes.
“I beg your pardon,” she said, also raising her voice against the elements. “I appreciate the help you’re willing to give us, Mr. O’Rourke, but please don’t think you have the right to talk to me like that. You don’t get to direct me…or my sister.” She added the last few words almost as an afterthought. “Marie was feeling nauseous, maybe from being enclosed on the train—there are a lot of strange smells—and I had to bring her outside. Otherwise, she was likely to puke in the compartment.”
Rory cursed himself for his unusual heavy-handedness. “I am sorry, Miss St. John. Of course, you are right. I was out of line.” Apologizing by bellowing—as he was forced to do by loud reverberations of the train on the rails—seemed as if it might add insult to injury, and he bowed his head. “Is there anything we can do for your sister? Perhaps some food?” He held out the basket as a peace offering and favored Annie with a bright smile, one that had successfully eased women’s displeasure on occasion in the past. However, the dubious expression of the woman before him showed no sign she had succumbed to his smile.
“Thank you for the food, Mr. O’Rourke. That probably will help Marie feel better. She might just be hungry.” Annie turned toward her sister but paused and looked over her shoulder. “Oh, and that smile of yours?” She shook her head with a twitch of her lips. “It’s pretty effective but I’m not going to fall for it. I’ve seen a lot of smiling men in my time, and you look like you’ve practiced that smile quite a bit.” She chuckled and moved forward to help her sister up.
