by Donna Steele
“If you need to have the thing moved, bet he’d do it,” Charles chirped helpfully. “Besides, he’d prob’ly like to see this ‘car’ himself. After he saw the new tractor Mister Cutter got, he’s got the hankering to have one for himself.”
Towing the Prius through town would not necessarily be a good thing. Being low profile, however, was already out of the question, between Dee’s jeans and her “doctorin’ skills.”
“I’ll see about it tomorrow. Let me get my bag.” Dusty pulled out the fob Dee had handed him when they headed for town and, without thought, clicked it, unlocking the car. Bad move—the action drew a lot of excitement—and the genie wasn’t going back in that particular bottle. He needed to be more careful.
Hauling the suitcase out, Dusty protested when Josiah took the handle. “I can—”
The boy ignored him, examining the case. The wheels would do no good out here. Dusty pulled his briefcase out and searched for anything else Dee might need. An emergency car kit remained tucked in the trunk area. He took it as well; he couldn’t let the thing fall into anyone else’s hands. Dee had her purse and her medical bag, which he realized she had not displayed once they got to Dr. Tillman’s house. Couldn’t blame her there, after seeing the former doctor’s supplies.
They desperately needed to have a private conversation.
Charles took the car kit from him and Joseph the briefcase, leaving him empty handed. He let Joseph relock the car with the fob and listened to the boys exclaim about everything as they walked to town.
In their rush to hit the airport on time, he and Dee hadn’t eaten. Dusty’s stomach growled. The boys grinned and he mock glared at them.
“Doc Tillman has a cook. She worked there even before the Missus died. She’ll have something when you get there.”
“She won’t poison me for not being proper?”
They laughed out loud and Dusty relaxed. For questionable social skills, he was doing okay with this age group at least. And with Dee.
Even so, relief flooded him when the large Victorian house came into sight. He thanked the boys after they deposited the loot in the front hall. “We’ll come by after school tomorrow and see if you need anything. Joseph will need to have his arm checked, right?”
“Sounds like a plan, guys. Thanks.”
They grinned at his words and scurried off. Mrs. Masters emerged from an unknown area of the house as Dee opened the door to the medical office. The immediate lifting of his spirits drew Dusty’s attention. From the look on her face, Dee felt the same. He sure wasn’t going to complain.
“Lunch is ready,” Mrs. Masters intoned, sniffing slightly.
“T-thank you,” Dusty stuttered, his eyes fixed on Dee. She wore a costume of pure “proper.” The delightful hint of cleavage from the T-shirt was long gone, replaced with a blouse reaching up to her chin and down to both wrists. The long black skirt didn’t quite meet the floor. Her eyes narrowed at his grin.
“Come on, let’s eat some lunch and then talk.” When he offered his arm, she rolled her eyes but took hold of it.
There were biscuits, cheese, pickles, and sliced ham on the table, accompanied by a pitcher of tea.
“This is cold,” Dee remarked.
“Doctor Tillman has a very modern kitchen. Ice is delivered twice a week,” Mrs. Masters replied. “He spoke of having electric lights installed as soon as they become available.”
“He sounds most forward thinking.” Dee glanced around. “It’s a lovely home.”
A snow-white tablecloth stretched over the table, which had been positioned adjacent to what would someday be a beautiful antique cabinet displaying fine china. The piece appeared brand new. Mrs. Masters gave a tight nod of her head, then watched with one eyebrow raised as Dusty made a ham sandwich of the items before him.
Dee kept quiet and ate, carefully and properly using her utensils. When finished, she rose and picked up her plate, but Mrs. Masters appeared abruptly and loomed over her even though only an inch or two taller.
“I will take that.” She held out a hand.
“I don’t mind helping . . . Yes, ma’am.” Dee relinquished the plate to the older woman and glared at Dusty who tried to keep his face impassive. “I believe we need to talk.” She stared at him pointedly, sobering him right up. He followed her to the doctor’s office and eyed her warily as she closed the door firmly behind them and threw the bolt.
“Am I safe in here with you?” he asked with a half-grin.
Dee whirled on him. “I’m in no mood for jokes. What the hell is going on? Where are we? And how do we get home?”
“I believe the question is ‘when are we?’” Dusty held out a hand to forestall her. “I know. The whole thing is impossible. I’m the one who studies number theory. Everything I’ve ever been taught says there can be no time travel. And I agree. But here we are, Dee, and it’s real. This is no dream. Everything is too tactile. I smelled Daphne’s blood, I felt Joseph’s shoulder under my hand, and I just ate a ham sandwich. As for the second question, how do we get home, I don’t have a clue.”
He sank into the wooden swivel chair at the desk and looked up at her. “I’m willing to listen to theories.”
“I don’t have one.” She leaned against the counter, looking as beat as he felt. “We crashed into something, the car proves it, but there was nothing to hit. I did not drive us head on into something I could see.”
“I believe you.”
She took a deep breath. “Why did you tell them we were married?”
That was an easier answer. “They were ready to stone you over your outfit. If they’d found out we were traveling together unchaperoned, you would have been completely ruined.”
“Ruined?” she echoed faintly.
“If we are in 1891, that’s the correct word. Women don’t even have the vote until 1919, if I remember my history. Caleb asked me if you were one of those suffragettes, with all that ‘book learnin’ behind you.’”
“Oh God.” She dropped her face into her hands.
Dusty stood and moved to her side; touched her shoulder. When she didn’t pull away, he took her in his arms. “I’m sorry.”
“This cannot be happening. Dusty, I have family, responsibilities. And we don’t even know each other. We picked each other up in a bar last night and had sex. Okay, world class sex, as in the best ever, but still . . .”
He had stiffened at her words, but relaxed at the last. “Best ever?”
“Oh God,” she repeated. “Of course that’s all you heard. Listen, other than your prowess at sex, I know nothing about you. How old are you? Are you an only child? Do you play the tuba? Where did you graduate?”
“Thirty-one, yes, no and MIT. Is the information important?”
Her shoulders slumped, and he pulled her against him. “I don’t think we’re going to wake up,” he murmured into her hair.
She didn’t speak, resting against his chest. After a moment, she lifted her face and took a couple of steps back. “What about my family, my dad? I need to be at work in a couple of hours for my shift. You’re supposed to be on a plane to Denver. No one is going to know what happened to us. My parents are going to be devastated. We’ve vanished without a trace, and they’re not going to link the two of us. The bartender last night doesn’t know my name.”
“He doesn’t know mine either. I’d never been there before. I don’t know what drew me to Ginty’s last night. I hadn’t even planned on going out. I planned to be responsible and go over my notes.”
“You’d never been there either?”
He shook his head. He reached for her and to his dismay she retreated a pace. He followed, unwilling to have her refuse his comfort. He drew her against him, his arms around her.
“This is my fault. You weren’t supposed to be on the highway
. I was. If you hadn’t offered to drive me, you’d be safe at home.”
He couldn’t decipher the shiver he felt course through her.
“I would have wondered why you never called.”
His arms tightened. “And I’d be stuck here with a cab driver who didn’t speak English.”
She huffed at that. “What are we going to do?”
“I don’t know of anything we can do right now. Why don’t you go upstairs and lie down? You didn’t get much sleep last night and you’ve already handled two emergencies.”
“You didn’t sleep much either as I recall. No, I need to check out what medicines and instruments are here, and see if I can even recognize them. When did you have your last tetanus shot? You probably haven’t had a pertussis booster since you went to first grade.”
The topic caught him off guard. “Tetanus? I’m not sure.”
“I can’t exactly call your mother for your shots record.”
“Well, neither could I. She died when I was a kid.”
“I’m sorry.” That seemed to depress her again and he wished he’d kept his mouth shut.
“You’re right. We do need to know more about each other. But I don’t think it’s the best use of our time right now.”
“True,” Dee sighed. “Go on, look around and see what you can find out. I’m going to keep exploring in here. Honestly,” she said, pushing him back a bit, “I can’t lie down now. I’m too keyed up. Two emergencies aren’t going to wear me out. I’m used to the ER at Georgetown.”
Dusty had to agree there. “I’ll check around outside. I want to get your car towed here. You know a Prius is not the kind of car we can leave out on the street.”
“Towed?”
“By mule,” he said dryly. “The boys are going to help me set up a time with some farmer for the actual towing.” He kissed her brow and saw her swallow hard. She had been more together during the emergencies. The “facts” of where they were must have finally crept up on her. He watched as she squared her shoulders and turned away.
For an instant he wanted to pull her to him, enfold her in his arms again, but they both had things they needed to do. “For the record, do you play the tuba?”
She stared at him, startled, then chuckled. “No, not even the flute.”
He nodded. “I’ll want more information later.” He headed to the rear of the house as she returned to the desk in Dr. Tillman’s office.
As he suspected, Dusty could see a well-maintained carriage house through the window. Painted white to match the residence, it appeared to be large enough for a horse and buggy. Or the Prius.
Mrs. Masters confronted him as he opened the door. “What do you want?” she demanded.
“I would like to see the carriage house. Our automobile needs to be brought here to see if I can repair the damage.” Not a prayer of that. “Did Doctor Tillman have a horse?”
“He did. She’s been taken to be cared for elsewhere for the time being.”
“Good idea. I’ll go and have a look.”
“Don’t expect to be here long. The town will not put up with a woman thinking she can care for their sick.”
He released a tired sigh. “Personally, I hope we can get home very soon. Until then, you may have to contend with a woman in the position for a short while. She’s a good doctor. This town would be lucky if she wanted to stay. She does not. Is that clear enough?”
Mrs. Masters huffed, finally allowing him out the door. The weight on Dusty’s shoulders felt a lot like hopelessness as he trudged to the carriage house.
Chapter 10
Uncomfortably anxious once Dusty left, Dee took a moment to analyze her fear. Yes, she was afraid, more than she wanted to admit. Her body chilled with him out of sight. Insane to feel that way, but true.
Dusty couldn’t be right. No way could they be in 1891. The whole premise was completely impossible, but if not, then where were they? She was alone in a strange house, using antique equipment, and in the company of a man she had not even known twenty-four hours ago.
Hands shaking, Dee realized she’d reached for her cell phone to call her father. He was a psychologist. Maybe he could convince her she hadn’t lost her mind. He would be destroyed when informed she was missing. Tears prickled at her eyes.
Then she straightened her back. There wasn’t time to indulge in fear now. Dusty had trained as a scientist and didn’t seem the least afraid of their predicament. Hell, she could see for herself how intrigued he was. He’d find something to explain all of this and a way to get them home. He had to.
Locating Dr. Tillman’s medical journal, Dee took a seat to flip through it, hoping to get her mind on anything else. The information provided in the large book fascinated her, the man’s notes meticulous. Dee knew she’d have to pen her own reports of Daphne and Joseph while those details were fresh in her mind. But for now, she only wanted to read the doctor’s records. She began at the most recent entries and worked her way toward the front of the book.
She read of the yellow fever epidemic, relatively mild here outside of the swamp that was Washington. Anesthesia was in fairly common use. Tillman used both chloroform and ether, noting in his record indicating there were higher risks with the chloroform, though it worked faster. The flammability of ether added to the problems. Where did he get and keep his supplies? She’d have to investigate further.
Dee hadn’t taken a course in medical history since undergraduate school. Hadn’t needles for injections been invented in the 1830s? Vaccines weren’t mentioned in the journal. Salk wouldn’t be born until 1914. Smallpox and diphtheria had vaccines now, didn’t they? Obviously not in widespread use.
Dee could feel herself begin to tremble.
She concentrated harder in an attempt to push away the fear. So much was different.
Tillman set a lot of bones, pulled teeth and stitched wounds. There weren’t many babies listed, but surely she’d find a midwife or two in town. He’d removed a tumor from a man’s abdomen several weeks ago. The patient hadn’t survived. Tillman had used chloroform for the operation. He listed no local anesthesia for procedures at all. He either put them all the way under or they endured the pain.
The laudanum she’d given Daphne wasn’t mentioned as a quick solution. Stitches were done and the patient endured the discomfort. Dr. Tillman did advocate washing his hands, though no gloves were in evidence and he didn’t mention disinfecting wound sites before or after any procedures. Was disinfectant so widely used he didn’t need to mention the fact? Shit!
Dee didn’t know how long she’d hunched over the desk, reading, before she sat up, stretching her back. From what she could tell, she’d done nothing too far outside of Dr. Tillman’s habits, except the honey, which wasn’t in widespread use even in her time.
Her time. What a weird thought.
Dee was stunned at how limited her education proved to be in certain areas. This man compounded his own medicines, versus the current-day procedure of relying completely on pharmacists to handle the medicines physicians used. If she got back—no, when she returned—Dee vowed to take some courses in pharmacology. She’d be a better doctor for the additional education.
Finally, she took the fountain pen in hand and recorded her first two cases.
A delicious aroma coming from the kitchen drew her attention. On cue, her stomach growled. How long had she been reading?
The door to the office abruptly opened and Dee jerked, startled. Would Dr. Tillman have been given the courtesy of a knock?
Mrs. Masters stepped inside and muttered, “Dinner is served.”
No ma’am or doctor, Dee noted. She forced a smile. “That smells wonderful.”
“I’ll tell Cook you said so.”
“Cook? I didn’t realize—”
“Miz Tillman main
tained a staff of three. Only Cook lived here. After the doctor lost his wife, I moved in to care for him and the house. Ginny comes in days to clean.”
“I see. This is a grand home. I suppose I need to look around,” Dee ventured.
Mrs. Master scrunched her long, straight nose as though fighting off a sniff of something nasty. “The house is quite large. Half of the downstairs is used for the medical offices. There is a small recovery room in addition to the clinic and Doctor Tillman’s personal office.” Her pinched expression fairly screamed aloud that Dee, a mere woman, should not be allowed in the office, much less to sit at the desk.
“Have you seen Du-my husband?”
“I believe he is in the backyard. I will call him now.”
“Thank you.” Lord, if she had to play lady of the manor, she needed to get lessons somewhere. Fast.
Dusty smiled when he joined her in the dining room. As soon as Mrs. Masters left for the kitchen, he leaned in and kissed her. “We didn’t dress for dinner.”
She gave him the stink-eye. “I’m not going to start wearing stays.”
He grinned wider, then tried for a sober mien as Mrs. Masters returned carrying a tray piled with roasted chicken, fresh corn, and beans. “Cook was unprepared for today, so a more complete menu will be available for your review in the morning. Should I present the menu to your husband?”
Dee stared straight into Mrs. Masters’ eyes. “I am perfectly capable of running a household as well as a medical practice. As a fellow woman, I’m sure you are more than aware of our capabilities. I do not feel the need to hide mine from my husband.”
Out of the corner of her eye she could see Dusty barely managing to keep a straight face, but Mrs. Masters nodded, as though rethinking her position. “As you wish.” She left them to their meal and Dee drooped in the chair.
“Don’t suppose you’ve figured out a way home?” she sighed.
