Steam Over Stephensport: Steam Through Time Series - Book 2

by Carolyn Bond

  She smiled looking down at the ground. Evan certainly seemed used to women who had their own opinions. He wasn’t afraid of that, from what she could tell.

  They reached a secluded stretch of path between thick leafless bushes sleeping the winter away. Without warning, he took her hand and pulled her to him.

  “Miss Wallingsford, the passion ye have for yer students tells me there’s a fire in you. It excites me greatly. Ye remind me of the women at home that would fiercely protect their family.”

  The depth of his longing was evident in his eyes. She wasn’t sure what he wanted her to say next. All propriety in her mind screamed for her to protest his forthrightness, but she couldn’t. She didn’t want to move. She wanted to stay in his hot embrace and feel the adoration he had for her.

  He must have taken her lack of protest as consent because he pulled her even closer and kissed her. The scent of cedar filled her senses. She wasn’t sure if it was from him or some magic that had catapulted her into his time and arms. The sharp woodsy scent and the rush of emotion inside her seized her breath until she nearly fainted.

  He gently released her, holding her steady as she regained composure. Looping her hand onto his arm, they strolled forward silently in their thoughts.

  They reached the porch and went in the house. Bettie was bustling about dusting the parlor. The aroma of chicken, sage, and rosemary filled Lily’s nose. She hummed an ‘mmm’ out loud.

  “Welcome home, you two. How did your first day go, Lily?”

  “Oh, fine. They’re good kids. I think we will be fine together.”

  Bettie gave Evan a sideways glance.

  “What was that look for?” Lily asked.

  “We just haven’t had good luck with teachers staying long. There must be something about that group of kids. That’s all.”

  “I see.” She sat down on the velvet sofa. “They behaved perfectly. I am used to a whole lot worse than that.”

  “Things must be bad in Frankfort, I imagine, then,” said Bettie.

  Bettie and Evan took seats in the two occasional chairs in front of the sofa.

  “Oh my, I almost forgot,” said Bettie and she jumped back up and went to the fireplace mantle. “This came for you today.” She handed Lily a parchment envelope.

  The envelope was small and stiff. It reminded her of the fancy paper you would buy to print off your resume’. The name ‘Miss Wallingsford’ was written in a flourish in black ink. She had seen fonts for wedding invitations that weren’t that elaborate.

  She turned it over. It was sealed with wax with a big E in the middle. She pulled the flap open and pulled out the notepaper folded in half. She didn’t see Evan make a face at Bettie.

  Dear Miss Wallingsford, the pleasure of your company is requested for supper on the morrow. I’ll send my carriage for you. Best regards, Brian Everbright.

  She looked up at them. They were waiting patiently.

  “Well. What did it say?” Bettie let out.

  “Brian Everbright has invited me to dinner. Tomorrow.”

  Evan didn’t say anything, but his face turned a shade of red.

  “I don’t even know where he lives,” she said.

  Now he exploded. “Ye aren’t actually going to go are ye?”

  “I, well, I guess so. I mean, I don’t want to be rude.”

  He made a snorting noise and then looked at the ceiling.

  “Apparently, you don’t approve.” Lily said.

  Bettie piped in, “Now, Mr. McEwen, you can have your opinions. However, getting an invitation from a man like Mr. Everbright is a feather in a young lady’s bonnet. She must decide for herself.”

  “Wait a minute! It’s just an invitation to dinner. Not a marriage proposal. Cool down, Mr. McEwen. I’m sure he just wants to talk about the school,” said Lily.

  “I just think it’s a bad idea. Brian Everbright doesn’t do anything that doesn’t somehow improve his lot or entertain him. He’s a revolving door of ladies he uses and drops. And those ladies are all upper crust. What designs do you think he has on you?”

  “Are you insinuating I am going to let him use me?” she said aghast.

  “I just think he is not in yer best interest. Do what ye want. It’s not up to me.” He stormed out of the room with his eyes on her like lasers.

  Bettie and Lily looked at each other. Lily smirked.

  “You can’t blame him,” Bettie said. “It’s obvious he has designs on you.”

  “Designs?” Lily’s eyebrows shot up. “As in planned out our future? Don’t you think that is jumping the gun?”

  “Of course not, dear. He’s a healthy young man. You’re beautiful. And, you’re right under his nose. He practically saved you from succumbing to shock beside the creek.”

  Lily turned her head toward the window. A gentle breeze blew the bare limbs of the maple tree in the yard. She couldn’t deny that Evan did something to her. He had a raw, rugged appeal. She wondered what it would be like to be held in his strong arms. He seemed like a good man. Hardworking and loyal. He was a man that could love her very soul. Even so, being the wife of a man like him would be hard. Everything he would ever have would come from the sweat of his brow, and hers. He was also a man that would mean it when he said he would love her always. Wasn’t that what she always wanted? Why didn’t that seem like enough now?

  Brian Everbright, assuming his invitation was of a personal interest, would keep her well-cared for. She would want for nothing. Her mother would have been thrilled. That cinched it for her. She would go see what Mr. Everbright had to say.

  Her materialistic internal argument was settled, but something nudged the back of her mind. Images of Stephensport in 2018 formed in her mind. It was a sleepy riverside hamlet of a handful of homes. No stores. No hotels. No steamboats or passenger trains. Forgotten by time except for a few farmers and humble country folk. What happened to the Brian Everbrights of this time? Clearly, the likes of Evan McEwen were the only ones that could promise forever.

  Evan didn’t have supper with them that evening at the house. Lily was not surprised. She snuggled into her covers as she shivered against a chill in the winter air. The cotton pillow case felt cool against her cheek. She closed her eyes and fatigue made her dizzy. She let herself fall deeper into the topsy-turvy world of darkness. Images of the school kids flitted through her mind. Slates and chalk. Brian Everbright and his perfectly combed and oiled hair appeared before her eyes. His gray-blue haunting eyes looked at from the other side of his long nose. He leaned in and his soft lips brushed against hers. His breath smelled of mint. She breathed in the scent of him. Then Evan’s face took his place. Cerulean blue pools of ocean locked her in a hold. His arms wrapped around her and pulled her into him. She felt the heat of his skin beneath the coarse cotton tunic. Her hands inched up his arms and the muscles tightened. His arms were rock hard and too big for her to get her hand around. Her breath quickened as he pressed his lips into her neck. She let out an audible sigh of ecstasy and her eyes flew open.

  She looked around to make sure she was alone. Her heart pounded in her chest. The darkness hid her, but she felt like she was being watched. She wondered if it was merely because she was an outsider here or was she truly being watched? Letting out a huff, her head fell back on the pillow and she stared at the white ceiling, now a pale gray by ambient moonlight. A sound reached her ears like a trombone or a baritone. A low moan. The tone sharpened to a far-away ringing. It seemed familiar but she didn’t know why. Her heart pounded and she looked toward the window. In a matter of seconds, the tone diminished and was gone. She felt totally alone again. She pulled the cover closer and drifted into a fitful sleep.

  PART II

  Chapter 5 – An Invitation

  Priscilla Ames sat at her desk watching every move Lily made. Her dark eyelashes batted her cheeks when she blinked. Her brown cotton dress was clean but had seen better days. The seam across the shoulder that attached the sleeve had a zigzag that made Lily wonder i
f it had been mended from a mishap. A new pale pink ribbon looped around the neck and lay in a neat bow under Priscilla’s chin. It was a desperate attempt to freshen the hand-me-down dress.

  “Priscilla, could you read to me the twenty-third Psalm?” Lily asked.

  “Yes, Miss Wallingsford,” she beamed with wide eyes.

  As the girl began to read, Lily realized she was reciting from memory despite giving the appearance of following a text with her finger. Priscilla was twelve. Lily could tell she was bright by the way she watched the others in class. She would mouth the answers silently to herself when others were called on. When Priscilla finished, Lily decided she needed to talk to her privately.

  “Class, I would like each of you to read that passage silently to yourself until you are sure you can read each word. Then move on to the twenty-forth psalm.”

  She waited a minute for them to start working, then whispered to Priscilla, “Priscilla, would you come to my desk?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Priscilla got up and tiptoed to the front.

  “Priscilla, I want you to know how pleased I am with how much you understand.”

  Priscilla’s eyes lit up with delight and her cheeks reddened.

  “Have you ever thought about what you might like to do when you grow up?”

  The girl’s face froze in confusion. “Uh, no, Miss Wallingsford. I guess I will just be a wife and mother like my momma.”

  Lily sighed and smirked. “Yes, well. I’m sure your mother is a wonderful wife and mother. And you would be too. But, I wonder if you have ever daydreamed about doing any other kind of work.”

  Priscilla’s forehead pressed down into her eyebrows. “Other kind of work? What do you mean? Like taking in wash or sewing?”

  Lily shook her head. This was harder than she thought. “No, I mean, well, have you ever thought of being a writer or studying medicine or inventing things?”

  Priscilla’s eyes nearly popped out of her head, “No. No, ma’am. I’m certain I would have no idea how to do such things. Why would I ever think about things like that?”

  “Because I think you are very smart. I think you are capable of it.”

  “But ma’am, I don’t even know how to write. How could I ever be a writer?”

  Lily sighed thoughtfully, “Priscilla, writing is a skill. You just have to be taught. No one is born knowing how to write.”

  The girl’s mouth fell open as she took in the thought. “But, but ma’am, girls aren’t taught to write.”

  “I understand, sweet girl. Girls here aren’t taught. But there are girls that are taught. And they can learn to write as well as any man.”

  Priscilla stood there with her eyes wide again. Then her face fell and she looked down. “No, ma’am. I can’t learn to write. It would take time away from my chores. I have to go straight home with the other girls to start chores. The boys stay to learn to write, but I have chores to do in the afternoon before my brothers get home.”

  “I see.” Lily was the stumped one now. “What if I talked to your mother and father?”

  “Oh, no, ma’am. Please don’t. If I’m any trouble, Pa will tan my hide.”

  “Oh. Well, I don’t want you to get in trouble. I will think of something. But tell me, Priscilla, would you like to learn to write?”

  “I would, yes, but I still don’t know what good it would do me. It’s not like I’ll go to high school or anything.”

  “I’m glad to hear you are open to the idea. You may take your seat now.”

  Lily decided then and there it was time to introduce the girls to a little career exploration. They had been raised to think their only option was to marry and raise a family. She couldn’t imagine what that must be like. She had been prompted to dream of what she wanted to be when she grew up since she was able to speak.

  “Class, when I tell you to begin, I would like the boys to pair up as we practiced yesterday and work together to compose a letter to the town council expressing what you would like to learn in school. You will create one letter as a pair.”

  The boys groaned.

  “Girls, I would like you to gather around on the rug for a discussion with me. You may all move to your places to begin.”

  The boys picked up their tablets and chalk and the whole class then got up and moved to their assigned places. The girls moved to the rug and sat in two rows of a semi-circle around a chair. Lily sat in the chair and waited for the boys to begin to work, scanning her eyes across the room to make sure all the pairs were busy. Then she took a deep breath and looked around at the huddle of femininity.

  “Young ladies,” she noticed Priscilla watching her with fascinated interest, “I want to talk about some famous women in history, some even living now, who have chosen to pursue what interested them.”

  She waited a minute. They were all transfixed on her words. She could tell they were eager to hear what she had to say. Not one protested. She searched her mind for examples and the first to come to mind was Clara Barton.

  “Have any of you heard of a woman named Clara Barton?” They shook their heads. “Clara Barton was, is, I guess, a woman that followed the Union troops during the Civil War. She provided aid to the soldiers. Later after the war, she would go to places that were affected by disasters and offer relief aid. She started and runs an organization called the American Red Cross. It helps a great many people.” Lily was a bit fuzzy on the dates of her life, so she hoped they didn’t ask too many questions.

  “What about Louis May Alcott? Anyone heard of her?” They shook their heads. “She was a writer. She wrote a book called Little Women that is wonderful literature. I’m certain its popularity will continue for at least another hundred years.”

  She tried to think of other women. Amelia Earhart hadn’t been born yet. Same for the physicist Marie Curry that would win a Noble Prize.

  “There have been women who have led political movements like Joan of Arc and, oh, Susan B. Anthony. What I’m trying to say is, I would like you to think about what really interests you. It may be that you really want to raise a family, and that’s fine. But you may also wish you could heal people when they are sick or injured. Or heal animals. You may have stories in your head that you wish you could write down and share with others. You may have strong feelings about what is right and wrong in society and want to change how people think and live. Your homework assignment for tonight is to imagine if you were a man, what would you want to be when you grew up.”

  They all stared at her wide eyed. A girl of about fourteen raised her hand.

  “Yes, dear,” said Lily.

  “Ma’am, my daddy will get powerful mad if he finds out you are talking to us about stuff like this.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “I just know, ma’am. He tells me to be quiet and let him make the decisions. He has plans for me to marry a boy he knows and he says I don’t have a say in it.”

  “For right now, let’s just keep this to ourselves. I understand what you are saying and I don’t want you to get in trouble until you have a chance to think it through. But, you have a mind God gave you. No one can tell you what you should think. Do you understand that?”

  Lily looked from one delicate face to another. They nodded and most of them made a secretive curl of a smile as they got up and tiptoed back to their desks.

  Lily dismissed the students for the day and began reading the letters the boys had written to the town council. She was curious what they would say. The comments were all over the place. They ranged from learning to make a volcano to how to drive a steam locomotive. They wanted to know how to build a house and they wanted to know how to read the stars and predict the weather. The boys had much clearer dreams about what they wanted to master in this life. She wished the girls had been given more opportunities to dream.

  ***

  Brian walked into the conservatory to find his mother. She was watering lilies in pots with small wood dowels driven down into the soil beside the stems. The stems
were tied to the dowel rods with twine to keep them standing upright and straight despite the heavy weight of their flowers.

  “Mother, I need to speak with you.”

  “Certainly, dear. What can I do for you?”

  “It’s about our guest tonight,” he paused.

  “The school teacher, yes. So kind of you to invite her over. We should always support the working class and show them our appreciation.”

  Brian stiffened and squinted. “Of course, however, I would like to discuss with you the possibility that she,” he stopped. He hesitated and plunged in. “The possibility that she might be thought of as more than a teacher. It’s just, you know well that I have had trouble finding a companion that doesn’t,” he struggled to find the words. “Someone who doesn’t bore me.”

  His mother turned to him, “Son, a wife’s job is to complement your station. Not entertain you.”

  He took a deep breath. “Mother, I believe this girl would make me happy. And, the business is thriving. Could you just give her a chance? I don’t know much about her life in Frankfort but perhaps she has friends in Frankfort that would be of use to us.”

  “My dearest son, enjoy a dalliance. I will, of course, be ever gracious, as is my duty. Don’t get your heart set on an impossible situation, though. This school teacher would be crushed in our society circles and you know it. There are plenty of suitable ladies that I will introduce you to in Lexington. Don’ give up so easily.”

  ***

  Walking home, she remembered Mr. Everbright’s invitation. His carriage would be by to get her soon. She wondered what he would want to discuss over dinner. Was this just a polite social appointment or was he truly interested in her.

  She climbed the stairs to the porch and let herself in the door. She realized she had not seen Evan since their conversation where he expressed his opinion of the invitation. She missed him. She missed talking to him. She didn’t have time to stay in her reverie, though. Bettie met her at the door.

  “There you are, missy. Now let’s get you upstairs and get you ready. I hope you don’t mind. I freshened up one of my dresses for you to wear to dinner.”