Across the Winds of Time

by Bess McBride

  Suddenly, an orange shape darted past us and ran down the hall into the dining room, leaving small footprints on the dusty floor.

  “Bad kitty!” Cynthia scolded as she took a halting step forward. “I guess we should have shut the door.”

  “I’ll go after him,” I offered, no stranger to cats as my next door neighbor was taking care of my own calico, Sassy, who was more than aptly named.

  I moved quickly and hurried down the hall, which led into an empty room with large windows on two sides, which I assumed to be the dining room. The kitchen opened to the right, and orange kitty eyed me from a door that presumably led to the outside. I approached him slowly, and the cat bolted, heading toward the living room.

  I raced through the living room just in time to see the cat running up the stairs while Cynthia and Laura watched me with a suspicion of laughter on their faces, though they did their best to control themselves.

  “I’ll get him, I swear,” I panted as I grabbed the large oak newel and poised on the first step to see the cat sitting at the top of the landing. He bent to lick his tail once and meowed loudly while he watched with interest.

  “Come here, kitty. Kitty, kitty, kitty,” I coaxed. I eyed the old wooden stairs with suspicion, but they looked remarkably sturdy. Tentatively testing the first one, I pulled myself up by the newel. The steps felt solid—as if they had just been built.

  “Come on, kitty,” I urged with some impatience. I followed him up the stairs at a slow pace, wondering if the twitter I heard behind me at the bottom of the stairs came from Laura or Cynthia.

  I reached the landing and began the next ascent. “If I don’t get you out of here, you’re going to get locked in. Forever. I’m not kidding.”

  I watched him run just past my head on the second floor as I moved up the stairs. When I reached the top, I turned to see that he’d run into another open doorway—probably a bedroom just to the right of the staircase. Several open doors along the hallway enticed me, but I was determined to catch the cat. The oak floors on the second floor also appeared to have had a lustrous shine at one time, though they were now scratched and dulled. Nothing a good sanding and another coat of varnish wouldn’t take care of.

  I followed the cat into the room and came to a halt. Orange kitty sat on the large sill of a huge bay window situated on the south side of the room. A white-painted wooden window seat nestled below it.

  Forgetting about my pursuit of the cat for a moment, I crossed over to the window to peer out, driven by an excitement I did not understand. Down below in the garden, a small pond sparkled under the rays of dappled sunlight that were allowed in by a huge oak tree, which shaded the right side of the house. Beyond the garden, I could see the rolling hills and dales of the nearby farmlands, with seemingly endless fields of corn. And occasionally, the oak tree parted just enough to allow me a glimpse of white stones on the hill of the cemetery beyond.

  I sank down on the window seat and unconsciously reached out a hand to pet the cat as I stared out the window. The view was mesmerizing—at once tranquil and scenic, charming and beautiful—everything a gal could want from a bay window.

  The cat purred as he looked out the window alongside me, seemingly content to soak up the midday sun streaming through the window.

  “I don’t know if Sassy’s going to like you, Marmaduke. She likes to rule the roost.” I scratched the newly named cat’s ears and watched the sun highlight the tombstones in the distance. “Just give her some space when she gets here, buddy. You’ll be fine.”

  Because I knew in that instant when I saw the view of the hill from the window that I would buy the house.

  Chapter Four

  “What?” Sara swung around from the mirror, brush frozen in midair. “You did what?”

  I rested on the bed, exhausted from the excitement of the day, massaging my right ear, which ached from spending half the day with the cell phone pressed up against it.

  “I bought a house.”

  Sara dropped the brush with a thud on the oak veneer dresser.

  “Where?”

  “Here,” I murmured, suspecting that a mere fifty years before, my sister would have had me committed to an asylum for the insane. I kept my eyes on my aching elevated feet, wiggling my toes now and again.

  “Here?” Sara shrieked. There were no other words to describe the sound. She really shrieked, and I didn’t blame her one little bit.

  “Why on earth would you buy a house here?” she continued. “I mean...I know you’ve been saving for one, but here?” She held up her hands and looked around the room. “This is so far away from Seattle. What’s here?”

  “A house I want.”

  Sara moved over to the opposite bed and dropped down to gape at me.

  “Where? I thought you went to the cemetery in Lilium today. When did you decide to go house hunting?”

  I grinned and closed my eyes for a moment, trying to recall the whirlwind sequence of events. I elected to skip telling her about Darius. At this point, I decided he must have been a figment of my overactive imagination. I subdued a surge of grief at the thought.

  “It all seemed to happen at the same time. I met these two little ladies at the cemetery and...well...they sold me a house.” I smiled widely as I recalled Laura and Cynthia’s not so subtle maneuvers to entice me to buy the house. Now they were happily planning their move to Florida. And I had inherited a house with no central heating and a marmalade cat.

  Sara narrowed her eyes and cocked her head as she regarded me. I got the distinct impression that my sister was planning on having me committed anyway...modern day notwithstanding.

  “You’re wondering if I’m insane,” I mumbled, wishing only for sleep, and not at all certain that I didn’t want to use sleep as an escape from my bizarre choices of the day.

  “Well, yes, as a matter of fact, I am,” Sara muttered. “So, exactly where is this house?”

  “Just down the road from the cemetery. In fact, just about right next door.” I closed my eyes again, fully expecting an animated response.

  “To a cemetery?” Sara’s shriek tapered off to a whisper. “Now, I know you’re nuts. Who buys a house near a cemetery?”

  I opened one eye and focused it on Sara. With a lift of my eyebrow, I asked, “And what have we been doing for the last week?”

  “Yeah, well, that’s different. We’ve been looking for our ancestors—at your instigation, I might add. This genealogy thing was always your thing. I’m just along for the ride.”

  I grinned. “And I thank you very much, Sis. I couldn’t have gotten this far without you.”

  Sara crossed her arms and arched her own brow in response to mine.

  “This far...as in buying a house?”

  “Exactly.”

  “Okay, so the darn house is just about sitting on a cemetery. What else?”

  “It’s a Victorian.”

  Sara nodded. “Well, I’m not surprised about that with all the oohing and aahing you’ve been doing over those silly houses ever since you were little.” She shook her head with a lift of her lips. “How many of those weird Victorian house Christmas ornaments do you own now, anyway?”

  I chuckled. “Five, so far. Don’t forget to get me one for this year.”

  “Do you have a picture of the house? Did you take any pictures? You know...most people do that when they buy a house?” Sara shook her head again. “I can’t believe you just bought a house.”

  I nodded. “I did take pictures. The camera is in my bag over there.” I wriggled my toes once again, trying to bring life back into my feet after being on them all day. Sara got up to search my bag for the camera.

  “By the time I’d met with the realtor, and we called the bank and started on the financing and the ladies finished telling me their plans for Florida, it was almost dusk. I was so exhausted, I just wanted to get back here and put my feet up.” I didn’t mention that I’d driven back to the cemetery one more time but could see nothing in the dark and o
pted not to get out of the car.

  Camera in hand, Sara sat down on her bed once again and began to fidget with the buttons of the camera.

  “I’ll have to go back with you tomorrow to check out this house,” she said as she peered closely at the photos on the camera.

  I watched her face carefully to see if I could tell when she saw the pictures of the house. Maybe the photographs would be too small on the camera screen to do the house “justice.”

  “I warn you. It’s a fixer upper,” I said with a shaky smile.

  “Of course it’s a fixer upper,” Sara snorted, pursing her lips together as she viewed the camera. “What Victorian house isn’t?”

  Was that a good reaction or a bad reaction, I wondered? What were my parents going to think? Sara’s report to them on the house would be influential in having them accept my impulsive decision with a minimum of recrimination.

  She raised her head and stared at me like a newly discovered specimen under a microscope.

  “Oh, yes, that definitely looks like a fixer upper. I’m just trying to figure out who would build a Victorian house on the prairies and cornfields of Iowa?”

  “Oh, come on, Sara! You know how beautiful it is over there in Harrison County! Those rolling hills? The beautiful trees? The wind!” I sighed. “At any rate, the house belonged to Cynthia and Laura’s family. They grew up in it. They say it’s always been in their family.”

  “Good gravy, how old are these gals? A hundred and ten? Because they’d have to be to live at the turn of the century when this house was probably built.” She peered down at the camera once again.

  “No, silly. They’re in their 70s, I think. Both widows. I’m sure it belonged to their grandparents or something.”

  “Whose tombstone is this?” Sara glanced up.

  I blinked. I knew which photo she meant.

  “I don’t know. It was in the Lilium cemetery. I just thought it was interesting.”

  “But no one we’re related to, right?”

  I shook my head. “No, I can’t even read the name.”

  Sara gave me a quizzical look and shrugged. She put her hands on her blue-jeaned knees to rise.

  “Well, let’s go get something to eat to...uh... celebrate. Something is bound to be open this late.”

  “I’m too tired,” I whined.

  Sara reached down to pull me to my feet. “Get up. We’re going out amongst your peeps now. You’re going to be a resident of Iowa! Do you have any idea what the tax laws are here in the state? State income tax? Property taxes?”

  “No,” I mumbled. “Should I?”

  “Geez, you’re naïve,” Sara chuckled as she found my shoes and set them in front of me.

  ****

  Two weeks later, I was back in Iowa, thanking my lucky stars that the Indian summer nights had not yet turned cold because the heating and cooling guys weren’t going to be able to get on the project for another week.

  I could have waited in my apartment in Seattle for the comfort of upgraded wiring and plumbing in my new house, but Sassy asked me daily when we were moving. I rocked in my white wicker porch chair and grinned. Not really.

  Sassy had traveled from Washington State to Iowa in my small hybrid car, caterwauling and screaming for the first two days. On the third day, she settled into a depressed resignation and hung like a limp rag doll in my arms when I took her out of her cage that night in the motel room.

  Now, Sassy sat on the inside window sill of the large bay window on the first floor and threw resentful looks in my direction as her human enjoyed the wind on the front porch of her new house—her newly purchased house, that is.

  Sassy was a born and bred indoor city cat and it was too dangerous to let her out on the town, so to speak. I had no idea what critters roamed the nearby fields looking for naïve kitties. The cornfield-wise Marmaduke took full advantage of the situation by preening with tail held high as he freely marched up and down the railing of the front porch. Little did he know that I had already set up an appointment to have him neutered the following week.

  I reveled in the first purchase for my new home—a white wicker porch set that smacked of Victorian décor—or at least I thought it did. I adored the fluffy bright yellow and rose-flowered seat cushions. With a bottle of lemonade on a dainty glass-topped table by my side, I waited for the movers to bring the rest of my furniture, which, in its entirety, wouldn’t even fill up the living room.

  My funds were limited, and I would have to furnish the bedrooms and formal living room of the house slowly. The cable company was scheduled to set up my satellite service within the week, so I would be fully wired and online with my graphic design work—a great job with a wonderful company that allowed me to pick up and move halfway across the country just as I had done.

  The wind I loved blew gently across the porch from the south. I turned my head in that direction, but of course I couldn’t see the cemetery through the trees of my garden.

  My garden! I hugged myself with glee. A garden. Who would have thought I would ever have a garden of my own? Admittedly, it was overgrown and not much to look at, but I hoped to have that fixed soon. I would have to hire someone to re-sod the front lawn as weeds had taken over the grass.

  I straightened in anticipation as a car pulled into the driveway. It wasn’t the movers, but Laura and Cynthia. I jumped up and made my way down to the car to help Cynthia alight.

  “Hello, my dear. So, here you are, your first day in your new home. How do you feel?” Cynthia leaned on me while Laura retrieved her walker from the back seat of the town car.

  “Great, Cynthia. Just great. Broke, but great!”

  Cynthia laughed. No...she snickered.

  “And I feel very well off, thank you,” she hooted.

  Laura came around to meet us, and we hauled Cynthia up the steps.

  “I’m afraid I don’t have anything to offer you,” I sighed. “I just arrived this morning myself. The appliances aren’t being delivered till tomorrow.”

  “Oh, you’re getting new things? How lovely for you!” Cynthia was settled into the wicker love seat, and Laura took up one of the chairs.

  “Did you just get this furniture? It looks new!” Cynthia patted the arm of the love seat.

  I preened, just as Marmaduke continued to do on the porch railing.

  “Yes, I did. The store delivered it this morning, just about an hour ago. I ordered it online last week, with the express plan to have it here first thing. What do you think?”

  “It’s lovely, dear. Just lovely. My parents would have loved to own such a set.” Cynthia sighed. “But they really couldn’t afford nice things, as poor as they were.”

  “Poor? With this beautiful house?”

  “Oh, they didn’t buy the house. Our dad inherited the house from his grandmother, and she really didn’t have any money either. It seems her husband, my great-grandfather, a scholarly type from Virginia, inherited it from some brother who died young. I think he was left some money by the brother, but bad investments...” She smiled with a small shrug. “Something like that.”

  “So, even though my family owned the place, they never really had the money to actually buy it or maintain it.” Laura grimaced as she looked around. “And neither of our husbands wanted to live here. I’m afraid we let it go.”

  “I wouldn’t worry about it, Laura,” I patted her arm. “The house has good bones. That’s what the inspector said. In fact, he said it had been built by a master craftsman. Did you know that?” I couldn’t contain my pride.

  Cynthia and Laura turned bemused faces on me. “No, we didn’t. That would be that great-great uncle I just told you about. I don’t remember what his name was. He built the house himself.”

  Laura added, “I’m glad to see it in good hands—like yours, Molly. We had to let it go, but I’m glad it went to you. You seem very...I don’t know...comfortable here. Like you fit in.”

  I beamed. “I feel very much at home here. It’s strange really. I
don’t think my family has any ancestors in this particular town, but somehow, this place just captivates me. It feels familiar in some way...like home.” I blushed at my whimsy. And I wondered how long before I would be able to get to the cemetery. I hadn’t been back since the day I bought the house. Sara and I had cut our trip short and returned to Seattle so I could make arrangements to relocate.

  Cynthia leaned over to pat my blue-jeaned knee. “Well, it is your home now, dear, and we’re your new family now—even though we’ll be in Florida for most of the year.”

  A round of chuckles accompanied Cynthia’s quip, and they moved onto a discussion of their plans for buying a condominium in Tampa Bay, Florida.

  When the moving truck pulled in a short while later, Laura and Cynthia thought it wisest to get out of the way. After some discussion, the truck driver backed out into the road to allow Laura to pull out. I said goodbye to my first visitors while the truck driver patiently pulled back into the driveway.

  Two hours later, my furniture was settled into the living room, kitchen, and the upstairs bedroom that had the view of the cemetery, and my new appliances had been delivered, although the only thing that could be hooked up was the refrigerator. The stove, washer, and dryer would have to wait for a wiring upgrade, scheduled for later in the week.

  Hands on hips, I surveyed my modern bright orange microfiber sofa with its angular lines and geometrically patterned sage green pillows, and I shuddered. Sassy, finding something that smelled like home, jumped up onto the couch and took the opportunity to clean one of her paws.

  “This is awful, Sass. Our furniture really looks hideous in here. And I need a carpet for the floor. I’m not sure I have enough money to get any more stuff. The electrical work and heating and cooling are going to put me in the poorhouse as it is.” I scrunched my face, and my lips twitched. “Did you hear that, Sass? Poorhouse? That’s what this is.” I waved a hand to encompass the house. “The poorhouse. Everyone’s been too poor to afford the darn thing. Now, I know what they meant.”

  Sass ignored me completely and moved on to capturing the end of her tail and cleaning it as if this was once-a-week Saturday bath day.