by Carolyn Bond
He realized right then that he could not let her get away. He wanted her to be his wife. He wanted to love her every day and night of his life. He wasn’t sure if she was willing or if she would be once she knew the real truth, but he would rather her turn him down than never try. His heart ached to have her so badly that now the pain of being rejected made no difference. He must try.
She heard his breathing quicken as he reached around to pull her shoulder toward him.
“Everleigh, I must tell you, I’m falling in love with you. You delight my very core.”
“Oh, Malcolm, I love you, too. I have never been happier than these past few days.”
“I’m not sure how I can offer you my hand in marriage. I may yet lose my uncle’s estate.” He sighed. “I will promise you, though, you will never go wanting for my love. Everleigh, will you marry me?”
***
Shocked at the sudden proposal, she blushed. Despite her fantasies of him kissing her, she had not allowed herself to think of him as a husband in every way. She had planned to enjoy a little side trip to the past, enjoy some romance, and then return to reality. Neither had she planned on falling in love, but she had. She couldn’t help it. Malcolm was every girl’s dream. Broad shouldered, smoky-eyed passion all in a tailored suit. He exuded masculine aura like steam rising off wet pavement on a hot day. Now thoughts of sharing his bed floated up in her mind. Heat rose on her cheeks.
What if she just let go of her fears and said yes? Was there a down side? Could she just stay in this time? Would she miss the conveniences of the next century, like air conditioning? She looked into his eyes and saw a lifetime love. She could love him with everything she had and he would return it back ten-fold. She knew the answer deep in her soul.
“Yes. Yes, Malcolm. Yes!”
There! She had said it. She followed her heart and let go of her fears. She wanted him with every fiber of her being.
He smiled like the sun rising on a spring day after a long winter. He leaned in and kissed her with smothering fierceness.
Unable to breath, she finally pulled back and smiled at him coyly.
His face turned serious and he held both her hands.
“I must tell you, though, you need to know something before we announce it. You are free to walk away if you must and I’ll never hold it against you.”
“What is it, Malcolm?” her brows knitted together in confusion. A tingling anxiety crept up her neck. She knew there was more to his secret.
“When we get back to Versailles, I need you to come to my house for a visit. Then you will understand.”
She didn’t know what to say. It sounded so mysterious. He looked at her with a faraway hope. Apparently whatever it was, he hoped she could live with it. She wondered what kind of secret the man must be hiding.
***
The train began to slow as it came around along bend. Malcolm stood and looked out the window toward the front of the train, his brown wavy hair blowing in the wind behind him. He looked back at her with a furrowed brow and then smiled softly.
“Everleigh, please stay here and I’ll come back after we are unloaded.”
She smiled and nodded. As the train squealed to a stop, he was out the back of the coach and disappeared.
She listened to the sounds of the grinding cargo doors being pulled open. Crates scraped the floor of the train car. Men shouted instructions. She looked out the window of the coach. The Asylum was a collection of buildings with the largest in the middle between two wings. The large building was three stories with two wings coming off either side. Numerous outbuildings dotted the green landscape. She noted how serene the lawn looked with benches and walkways.
A scream burst through her quiet reverie and she turned to look at the source. On the second story of one wing, she saw a woman trying to climb out a window screaming at them to help her. It appeared someone inside was trying to pull her back in.
The woman’s face was contorted with fear. Was she truly a lunatic, Everleigh thought? What if someone were brought here against their will? Would anyone believe them? Would they ever get out? A shiver ran down her spine.
What if Mr. Peeble had had her committed?
The woman was pulled inside and the window slammed shut. No other noise was heard. She wondered if there were children here. At what age did the Children’s Asylum move them? She didn’t see any nor did she hear the sounds of anyone playing. She crossed to the other side of the coach and looked out the other window. Acres and acres of lawn stretched out. She could see a reservoir in the distance. The whole scene looked ironically idyllic.
Then she saw a tiny face peering at her around a tree. It was a young man with Down’s syndrome. He smiled at her. She wondered what he was doing out there alone. Perhaps he had managed to sneak away from his caregiver. He beckoned her to him with a little motion of his hand.
She looked back toward the other side. They were still unloading the cargo. She decided to see what he wanted and let herself down the metal steps to the rocky rail tracks. Looking both ways to see if anyone was watching, she made her way over to him and knelt down. He looked young, maybe fifteen years old.
He smiled at her and touched her face.
“Pretty lady,” he said.
She smiled back at him, “What are you doing out here?”
“Ahhh. I sneak away. They not know.”
“Won’t you get in trouble?”
He laughed. Then his faced turned down.
“They whip me if they find me.” He looked around her quickly.
“Whip you?” She was appalled.
“Yeah,” he paused. “I go with you?” He gestured toward the train.
“No, sugar. I’m sorry.”
“Ah, it’s alright. I know.”
He looked around again and then his eyes opened wide.
He continued, “You go now. I hide.”
She gave him a concerned look and turned back to the train. She had just made it to the step when she saw a man in a white uniform poking around the corner of the coach. He stopped when he saw her and abruptly changed his expression from annoyed to polite.
“Madam,” he bowed his head acknowledging her, “You should stay on the train. For your own safety.”
She nodded and climbed back onto the coach platform. She waited until he passed by before looking back toward the young man. She couldn’t see him anymore.
He must be good at hiding.
Soon Malcolm climbed aboard and sat next to her on the wood bench. The train lurched backward and left the way it came. The sound of a boyish cry rang out. She jumped to look behind them in the window. The caregiver was hauling the boy by the corner of his shirt toward the building.
She heard, “I be good! I be good!” and her heart wrenched.
The train turned around a corner and she couldn’t see anymore. She turned to Malcolm who had been watching, too. His eyes glistened with moisture.
He looked at her like he wanted to say something but stopped himself.
“Do you think they will hurt him? He wasn’t hurting anything.”
“I don’t know. I do know they treat Mongoloids as though they are insane.”
He watched her reaction. Her eyebrows shot up and he stiffened.
“They are not insane! That’s crazy!” She said.
She saw him swallow hard and bow his head. “You realized most people do think that, that they are insane or monsters?”
She didn’t know much about the history of how the disabled were treated prior to the nineteen hundreds. In her lifetime, she had seen disabled children moved from hidden rooms in schools to mainstream classrooms. The Special Olympics advertised smiling faces of Olympians. Bullying of people who were different was a stigma of intolerance.
She knew there were some in society who were truly insane. People who lived in residential treatment facilities and received therapy. Most disabled people, though, dealt with physical or intellectual challenges. Even those with behavioral challe
nges were able to live in group homes or function on their own after research-based therapy.
She felt a grip on her heart as she realized the ignorance that pervaded in times before hers. Not just this time, but in all of history, how many sweet people had been hidden away, abused, or worse? How many had cried in fear, not understanding, no one comforting them? She could imagine that many had been beaten like animals, possibly to death and no one would have noticed they were gone. Her gut clenched as she grieved for the ones harmed that no one knew about.
She stared absently out the window to hide her grief for all those souls. Trees now blocked her view of the Asylum. She wondered if those that lived there were treated well. If they weren’t, would anyone know? Was there any government oversight? She figured not. Chances were, for the most part, no one really knew what went on there. That was a recipe for all manner of human abuses when you had a population that was vulnerable.
Crossing a road just outside the walls of the asylum, she saw a sign posted that read: Lunatic Ball, September 20th.
Good Lord! They really see nothing wrong with calling a fundraiser that!
The ride back to Midway was quiet as they were both lost in their thoughts. Everleigh wondered if somehow she could do something now, in this time, which would hasten the movement toward seeing the disabled as valuable citizens. Maybe it was just a matter of getting through to people to change the culture.
She knew that the eugenics laws would be stifled since they were unheard of in the future, but more needed to be done now to help the disabled of this time. Perhaps, like in her own time, if people were just exposed to them more, they would see they are just people who want to be loved. They were not crazy or dangerous. Maybe if articles were published, like a pre-historic blog of sorts, that talked about the everyday life of the disabled, then people could peek into their world and see for themselves.
Instead of having asylums, maybe schools could be opened where people with mental and physical handicaps could live and receive therapy. One thing is for certain she knew, she could design such a facility that would make it easier for them to get around in. She wondered what impact she would have on the future if she started all this in 1888. Maybe it wouldn’t take until the 1980s for the them to come out of hiding.
As the train slowed into the Depot at Midway, she pulled out of her thoughts. She looked at Malcolm who had been chewing his lip. Had this trip actually started with him proposing? A blaze of emotion tore through her. What a tender-hearted man he was. She felt humbled that she had made an impression on such a man that he had fallen in love with her. She could feel the heat of the blush creeping up her neck.
Feeling her gaze, he turned to her and all at once his countenance changed. His chest swelled and he flashed a smile that made her heart melt. He pulled her under his arm, folding himself around her. He kissed her forehead and lifted her chin to look in her eyes.
“I love you, Everleigh, with all of my being.”
She nearly swooned in the delicious umbrella of his hold.
“I love you, Malcolm.”
They departed the train and after he checked on some things with the agent, they found Mr. Sloan waiting patiently for them on the road next to the depot. The afternoon light was fading on their way back to Versailles. Her belly rumbled with hunger.
“Are you up to supper at my estate? If you’re too tired, I can drop you off at the inn.”
“No. I’m fine. I’ve been sitting most of the day, so I’m not tired. In fact a good walk might be nice to stretch my legs.”
He exhaled and relief filled his face. He called out for Mr. Sloan to take them all the way to his estate. The night air softly wafted through the open windows and the scent of honeysuckle filled the air. Rock walls lined the dirt road and bushy green trees grew along the wall covering the road making a cool, shaded tunnel for them to escape the summer heat. Beyond the rock walls, great open grassy fields extended over gentle rolling hills dotted with graceful horses.
She thought back to May and remembered she had watched the 142nd running of the Kentucky Derby. That meant the 14th Derby had just been run in this time. She glanced up at Malcolm and wondered what he would think if he knew the truth about her. Would he ever believe her?
“So what do you think of the Derby?” she asked.
“What? Oh. I guess it’s alright. I don’t really have time to keep up with it. It seems to be a sport for the rich. I can’t see how it’ll last as expensive as it is to raise these horses for nothing but racing.”
She giggled.
“Is that funny?” he looked confused.
“No. I’m sorry. It’s just that sometimes reasonableness has nothing to do with what lasts.”
“I suppose that is true.”
They pulled into the drive of his estate. Her pulse quickened. He had been so guarded before about her being in his world. She shot a glance at him. He was looking toward the fields in a resigned, relaxed manner with no concern at all on his face.
At the house, he jumped out and turned to lift her down.
“Welcome to my home, madam,” and he offered his arm.
Jones appeared to greet them and Mr. Sloan drove the carriage down a small path around the side of the main house.
Jones, will you let Cook know we will have a guest for dinner.
“Very good, sir.”
Malcolm led her inside into a foyer with a great staircase that wound around as it disappeared into the ceiling. He motioned to the left, and through a wide opening, she entered the parlor. Thick rugs covered hardwood floors that gleamed in the light of the oil lamps covered the large room. A red velvet-covered sofa and two chairs sat around the focal point of a great hearth with ceramic tiles around the opening. The tiles had carved scenes in them of people involved in various farm activities. A wide glass case of various curiosities sat along the back wall. She could see large seashells and sponges mounted like scientific specimens and various books and a magnifying glass lay on top.
“Please sit down.” He motioned to the couch and pulled a cord and moments later a footman appeared.
“Bring us a tea service and biscuits, please,” Malcom asked.
Without a word the footman disappeared. Malcolm sat in a chair opposite her.
“Can I get you anything else? Would you like to freshen up?”
“Perhaps that would be nice in a minute. Thank you.”
“Certainly.”
She noticed his leg lightly hammering. He stopped as soon as she looked and ran a hand through his hair.
“The room is lovely. Did your aunt decorate it?”
“What? Oh, yes. I suppose so. I haven’t changed anything.”
He looked around as though noticing it for the first time.
“Is that them? Your aunt and uncle?” She pointed to a portrait over the mantle.
“Yes. That is Cecelia and Jasper Williams.”
“Your aunt has the same smile as you. They seem like they were very nice people.”
If it were possible to smile and frown at the same time, Malcolm did.
“Thank you. They were, indeed. They were very loving people.”
The footman brought tea and set it on the table and left. Malcolm poured and handed her a cup. He sat staring at the floor with his jaw flexed and just a straight line of lips.
“Malcolm, are you alright?” She had a note of concern in her voice.
He looked up and tried to smile but all he could accomplish was a watery turning up of the corners of his mouth. He got up and sat beside her taking her hand, holding it with both of his.
“Everleigh, there is something you must know. If you choose to marry me, it may be difficult for you.”
“How so?”
He looked down and sucked in a breath of air.
“My nephew, I take care of him. My aunt and uncle had hidden him away. When they passed, I knew that for his sake, I must continue what they started.”
“Why did they hide him?”
He looked at her with sad eyes but the hope of understanding set his mouth in strength.
“Percy is feeble-minded.” He watched her closely to see her reaction.
“Why would you have to hide him, though?”
Hs brows shot up. “Surely things are not so different in Charleston.” He paused, “Percy is a Mongoloid. Even in Louisville it is scandalous. Children such as Percy are either allowed to perish at birth or quietly transported to an orphanage for such children. Usually, the story is told that the infant died in childbirth.”
Everleigh though about what Suzanne had told her about Cecelia’s childbirth and subsequent lying in. Her gut twisted at the unfairness to parents of this time.
So the child hadn’t died. They choose to hide him and keep him.
It all made sense now. His reaction at the asylum. His fear. He was protecting Percy. This wonderful man was willing to sacrifice his own dreams to protect this little boy. Emotion shot through her like coursing lava.
“There are no laws yet, but we were so afraid he would be taken from us. For his sake, we have kept him a secret.”
“Oh, Malcolm! I’m so glad they kept him! How awful it must have been for them to feel so alone. And you, you have loved him just as your own.”
Tears sprang from his eyes and he looked down to hide his emotions.
“Yes,” he said hoarsely, “it was unbearable for them, but they loved this child, as do I. How could I not continue to care for him, even if just for my aunt’s sake? The boy shares my blood.”
Everleigh’s eyes filled with moisture as she imagined being his aunt.
“I have worried so about it. I made a decision to remain single until somehow I could ensure he would be taken care of. But I love you, Everleigh. I love you like you are part of me. I cannot choose between you and him. I need you both. I have feared you would reject him. That you would reject me for having a mark on our family that our family line is damaged.”
