by Carolyn Bond
He grimaced without breaking the gaze they shared. “Are you saying--”
“How can it be?” she interrupted.
He sighed and paused before answering, “So, you would be from the future, then? Is it really true?”
“I suppose so. How is that even possible? I mean, I’m just me. I was driving. It was 2018 and then,” she trailed off thinking how she wasn’t really herself, either, but she couldn’t tell him that. “I don’t remember anything particularly earth shattering happening. Shouldn’t I have felt something?”
“You’re asking me?” He stared at her incredulously.
“So, you believe me?”
“I have to admit you don’t act like any woman I have ever met. You do seem very genuine in your reactions. Either you are telling the truth or you are truly insane.”
The front door creaked as Carlton burst through with a sloshing glass of water. “Here Miss Wallingsford. You alright, ma’am?”
His chocolate-colored brown eyes were wide with concern.
“What’s going on out here?” Bettie belted out as the door creaked swinging wide. With a bang, it slammed back just as she flew to Lily’s side.
“I just got a bit dizzy, I think. I’m fine.”
Bettie looked her up and down quickly and crossed her arms. “When’s the last time you ate, darling?”
“Ate? Oh my.” She thought about breakfast. Of course that was a century ago. Or, would it not be for another century? She was lost in her thoughts.
“You must be delirious.” Turning to Evan, “Get her inside, Mr. McEwen.”
Evan took her hand and reached under her arm with the other hand. Lily felt herself hoisted up out of the chair. Bettie got under her other arm and she was unceremoniously led and then deposited into a chair on the kitchen table.
The table had already been set with rolls and a glass pitcher of water. The glass had small air bubbles trapped in it making it look like a frozen wave. A teapot and three teacups waited next to the water pitcher. Bettie ladled thick stew into three small white china bowls and carried them on a wood tray to the table.
“Well let’s tend to our belly and then things will seem clearer.” She winked at Lily.
“It smells delicious!” Lily said.
“Just regular old stew, but thanks. Mr. McEwen, where did you find her?”
“She was up at the cemetery.”
Bettie looked at her. “Do you have family up there, darling?”
“I, well, I thought I did.”
”Who are you looking for?” Bettie placed a bowl at each setting.
“My grandmother.” Lily bit back a pang of grief that twisted her insides.
Bettie sat down and reached her hands out on both sides palm up. “Shall we give thanks?”
They all held hands while she prayed, “We thank thee, our heavenly Father, for the sustenance your hand provides. Amen.”
“Amen,” said the others.
Bettie looked at them and waved her hand encouraging them to dig in.
Lily spooned a bite of broth drenched potato in her mouth and couldn’t stop the moan of satisfaction. “This is so good! I guess I am hungry, after all.”
Bettie smiled warmly accepting the compliment. “So who are your people, darlin? Do we know them?”
Lily coughed to stall, “I, uh, well, I am related to you through Thomas Helm.”
Bettie stopped and pursed her lips looking at her with her head tilted. “Huh. Are you from George’s line?”
Lily’s eyebrows perked up. “Yes! So that makes me a distant cousin.”
Bettie looked at her closely and then exclaimed, “We are so glad to have you! Mr. McEwen, how fortunate you came across her before anything unseemly happened.”
“Rightly so. That was fortunate. There are many strangers that come through town. It’s not safe for a woman alone.”
“So where are you from, Lily?” said Bettie.
“My parents and I live in Frankfort.”
“Frankfort! Well that’s not far. In fact, we have had several relatives with business in Frankfort. Did you travel alone?”
“Yes, no. Well, I traveled with a friend but she went on to Owensboro. So no. That would be crazy, right?” Lily felt a rising flush of heat creep up her neck. She hated lying but didn’t know how to explain what would be thought of as bizarre behavior. Bettie and Evan were giving her a stone-faced stare as they were evidently trying to make sense of her. Bettie broke the awkward moment by turning toward her bowl and spooning another bite of stew into her mouth. Evan just continued to study her before giving her a reassuring upturn of one corner of his mouth. She hoped this meant he could be trusted.
“Bettie, I was wondering, in Frankfort I’m a member of DAR. Are you? Do you have a chapter here?”
Bettie studied her intently before answering, “Darlin, what in the world is the DAR?”
“Daughters of the American Revolution?” she offered.
“No, ma’am. I’ve never heard of them. What do they do?”
“It’s a patriotic society.”
“I see. Well, ever since that Colonial Exposition back in ’76, there have been a great many of those spring up.”
A pang of shock hit Lily. Maybe the DAR hadn’t been founded yet. She couldn’t remember exactly when it was founded. She didn’t know what to say next.
Bettie jumped in before she had to, “No matter that I haven’t heard of it. I have been busy here since I married William. Before then, mother and I used to be involved in several groups. There was a woman, Mary Desha, I think, in Lexington that’s a teacher. Mother was in the same social circles and we would see her occasionally. She was always quite vocal about us ladies persevering in educating others about our country’s history and helping our community in the name of patriotism. I think it’s a good idea. I think I heard she is in Alaska now teaching the natives and fed up with how Washington isn’t doing anything to help those people.”
Lily remembered a presentation at a chapter meeting about Mary Desha. Mary Desha was one of the organizing members of the National Society, Daughters of the American Revolution. The year 1890 came to mind.
Whoops! No wonder Bettie has no idea what I’m talking about.
Changing the subject, Lily said, “So where is Mr. Black?”
Bettie took the change well and relaxed her shoulders, “Oh, Mr. Black, yes, he has gone to meet with the town council members. Seems we need to find a new teacher for the school. Apparently the last one got all in a huff and told the council members she would never teach their-, let’s see, how did she say it? Yes, I’ve got it: Their wee bastard primates! Apparently one of the boys said she wasn’t fit to polish his shoes. He’s a surly uppity boy, but then again, this poor girl couldn’t have been a day over fourteen. She and he were nearly the same age.”
“Fourteen! The teacher was just fourteen?” said Lily.
“I agree. Fourteen is just too young. The teacher should at least be sixteen,” said Bettie.
“Sixteen? You’re kidding me. Surely they should at least be through high school.”
“Through high school? We would never find a teacher at all if we required that.”
Lily thought for a moment. She remembered learning about the one-room school houses prior to the legislation that created public schools. She knew they were mostly headed by single women. She remembered a funny article on Facebook about the requirements of teachers around 1900. They had to be single and not drink, be chaste, and other crazy things modern companies could never require of an employee. She tried to imagine these teachers as fourteen year olds. Surely not. Then again, girls would get married as young as sixteen or eighteen. At thirty-six, she was an old maid by their standards. She looked at the smooth firm skin on her hands and wondered how old she was in this body. If she had to guess, she must have been about twenty-one.
She wondered if she should mention she was teacher. She didn’t know how long she would be here. She wasn’t even sure how to get ba
ck. Maybe she was stuck here. A pang clenched her gut and she reflexively pulled her hand up to her stomach.
“Are you alright, dear? Does the stew not suit you?”
“Oh, no. I’m not sick. Just thinking.”
Evan watched her as though taking note of her every move. She glanced up to double check the feeling of being watched and found him solidly contemplating her. Her belly lurched again, but this time in a delightful way. A warm rush flushed her neck again and she suppressed a girlish giggle but could not stop the sudden curve of her lips as she turned away.
Apparently pleased with his effect on her, his face changed to a subtle grin. He picked up his spoon and sipped the warm broth.
“Just what are you thinking about, then?” he asked still grinning.
Bettie noticed his puffed up countenance and raised her brows.
Lily raised her eyes to him and tried to cover the quiver inside her, “I was just thinking that I am a trained teacher and perhaps I could help out until a new teacher is found.”
Bettie, startled by this revelation, turned to her and gasped, “Really? That would be wonderful! I know the town council would be so pleased. We have such a hard time finding good teachers with experience.” Then she scowled at her stew, “The last three have been worthless, mamby-pamby things. Carlton doesn’t help the problem. He makes their time here difficult. He seems to like you, though.”
“Carlton? He goes to school there?” Then she caught herself. “Well, of course he does. Maybe he could give me some pointers about things others have tried that didn’t work.”
“Perhaps. He is a smart boy. However, I can tell you what you need. A firm hand will go far. The uppity children act like they are too good to take orders and the farm children are out as often as they are there. It surely must make it difficult to teach any of them anything.”
Uppity well-to-do kids were nothing new to her. She had taught at an affluent public school. She knew there were definite rewards to teaching children of parents of means. She often had volunteers and never ran short of supplies. A good communication line also meant she could get parents to help students with homework.
Farm children being absent frequently was a different problem. She was used to poorer children being absent due to the transient nature of their lives and lack of transportation to school. She had an idea, this was going to be a different problem, though. While the farmers were most likely poorer, they were likely not as transient and could walk to school. There was no way to fight harvest season.
“I’d be happy to fill in for the time being. I can’t guarantee how long since I’ll have to go back home at some point.”
Lily noticed Evan’s face took on a dark cast.
“I’m certain that any time you could give the school would be appreciated. You will be staying here with us, won’t you?” asked Bettie.
She hadn’t even thought about where she would be staying. She didn’t have any money. She didn’t even have any clothes. Grateful for the offer, she said, “Oh, Mrs. Black, it would be so kind of you to let me stay here. Thank you.”
“Certainly, darling! You’re family. But you must call me Bettie.”
Lily was very pleased. How odd, she thought, to be in her great-great-great grandmother’s house and soon to be teacher of her great-great-grandfather.
“Carlton!” Bettie hollered out. Carlton came skipping into the kitchen.
“Yes, ma’am?”
“Carlton, sweetie, run in to town and go to the town hall building. Tell your daddy I have a teacher for him that can start right away. Go straight there, you hear me?”
His face contorted into a frown. “Yes, ma’am,” he grumbled before darting off. They heard the screen door slam in his wake.
Bettie winked at Lily and then said, “Now they won’t pay you hardly anything but you will get a little something for your trouble.”
“Does the school have books? Does the town council make the curriculum?”
Bettie and Even exchanged glances. “No dear. You will need to do all that. Did they do that where you taught before?” Bettie asked.
“Well, yes, the school board was very strict about exactly what the children must learn.”
“Hm. I would say just teach what you have taught before. As far as the town council is concerned, they follow what the church tells them should be taught.”
That worried Lily. Men at a church deciding the direction of education, supposedly basing it on what they thought the Bible wanted them to do. That could be good or really bad. The 19th century wasn’t known for busting out of convention. Convention had women dressed up to their chin and down to their toes. Convention made people stay in line with strict class lines where the poor did not rub elbows with the aristocracy. Convention also made people put on a face for society that was more about show than a reflection of their true character.
They finished their meal and Bettie cleared the table.
“Lily, I need to go upstairs and freshen up your room. Would you excuse me?”
“Certainly, but you don’t have to go to any trouble for me.”
“Oh, no trouble dear. I just want to put out some fresh linens. Make yourself comfortable and I’ll be back in a jiffy.” She paused and then turned to Evan, “And you behave yourself, Mr. McEwen.” She winked at Lily as she turned away.
Lily gave Evan a wary smile.
“No need to worry, Miss Wallingford. I’m quite house trained, despite Mrs. Black’s admonition.” He smirked.
“So what is your story, Mr. McEwen?”
“My story? Well, I stay here with the Blacks. William hired me on about a year ago. I came from Scotland to find a new life. Some of my clan settled up river a ways and I started there, but took a job on a paddle wheeler and found my way here. I liked it here. The soil is so good. The land is lush and green, rich soil, and, well, William needed a farm hand.”
“I see. Was it hard? Leaving Scotland? Coming somewhere unknown and being alone?”
His gaze drifted out the window while he thought of an answer, “In some ways. I miss my family. But, there was nothing for me there. Being the third son, I had no land, no home of my own.” He turned to her. “Here, I can work as my strength allows and create my own legacy. There is freedom here to make my way. In Scotland, everything goes to my older brother. My sisters go to their husband’s land. I would never have my own land. I would always be a farmhand on my brother’s lands.”
The concept was hard for Lily to get her head around. “Never? You would always be a farmhand? Why couldn’t you get your own land?”
“All the land is passed down based upon your birth order. Unless my two older brothers died, I have no land of my own. It is a good system for keeping the estate whole.”
“I see. That makes sense. But-- it’s so unfair to you.”
“Yes and no. There are responsibilities for being the laird that I would not have to deal with. The laird takes care of several families. And, I would always be taken care of. I had a cottage to live in. As long as I gave my allegiance to the laird, I shared in the food and supplies.”
“But that didn’t’ sound like a good life to you?”
“It is good. It’s not that I’m not grateful.” He looked down at his hands. “I just want to make my own life. Besides, my brother is a bit hard headed and difficult to live with.” He smiled as he told her this.
“That seems reasonable, that you wanted to have your own life. Every person should be able to choose what they want.”
He turned his head to the side and sucked in his breath quietly. She barely heard the whooshing sound as his diaphragm contracted. There was no mistaking the lusty wistful look in his eye.
“I agree, lass. Sometimes we have to look on the other side of the world to find what we want.” The corners of his mouth turned up.
“Mr. McEwen, are you flirting with me?” She leveled an assertive gaze into his eyes.
“Since you ask, Miss. Wallingsford, I will say I am just makin
g an observation. Would it bother you if I was hoping to catch your attention?”
Her heart was pounding in her ear making it hard to concentrate. Thoughts in her head were obscured like staring into the sun. Struggling to regain her head, she caught a passing logic. “Wouldn’t you be happier with a woman who is from your homeland? I’m sure there are habits and traditions that I know nothing of, but which are important to you.”
His smile turned softer and his blue eyes locked on hers, “Sweet woman, I only seek one who would love me as I love her. All the rest is what makes life interesting.”
He stretched out ‘as I love her’ and she felt the heat grow the pit of her belly. Her words she’d spoke to her grandmother echoed his. Her mother had tried to set her up with a man who could take care of her and she felt bad about that. She never wanted to take advantage of a man. As a tenant farmer with nothing but a dream, that certainly wasn’t the issue with him.
He was different than any man she had ever met. There had been men that openly flirted with her and she would rebuff them for their forwardness. Their obvious assertiveness seemed to be an attempt to win a challenge. Evan, however, gave her the feeling he was entirely genuine. Perhaps it was his patient control over himself. It was as though he knew she would fall in love with him and he merely needed to wait. A knowledge that was not conceited, just sure. As though he already knew the future and he was waiting for her to catch up to him. How perplexing it was for her to get her head around that thought. She was the one from the future, yet she felt like he was the one who knew what would happen.
Before she could respond he stood, took her hand and kissed it. “Now, Miss Wallingford, you must excuse me, the cords of wood won’t chop themselves.”
“Uh, yes. Of course.” She stumbled over her words.
With a devilish grin, he said, “I will look forward to the conversation at supper.” He turned and left the kitchen in two steps and a bang as the screen door slapped the door frame.
She sprung from her chair and smoothed her skirt down several times. It was unnerving how affected she was by him. She didn’t want to feel these feelings. She was still licking her wounds from Andrew. She didn’t know how a 19th century Scottish immigrant would respond in a relationship. What if this was all an ego-stroking play to him. She was not going to be the fool again. Maybe men from this time just jumped at any girl that would agree to cook his dinner and have his babies. What if her mother had been right? Maybe she should just worry about finding security first and love later. Her mind was racing in circles.
