by Bess McBride
She ran past Jeremiah in her nightgown and down the hall. She did her business, washed up and ran back up the hall, where Jeremiah had changed his leaning position by pressing his back against the wall.
“All yours!” she sang out. She shut the door behind her and began the process of dressing all over again. Mrs. Jackson hadn’t said anything about loaning her another dress or undergarments, so Leigh assumed that clothing was worn more than once between washings. She had no problem with that, having worn a favorite pair of pajamas around the house for two or three days at a time before they begged to be laundered. Working at home had given her the leisure to dress—or not dress—as she wished.
She drank the rest of her cold tea while she dressed as quickly as she could. After tying her hair up into a bun, she checked herself in the mirror and thought she made a presentable turn-of-the-century woman. At least she hoped so. For all that she had busied herself with dressing, she had temporarily forgotten that she was on her way to meet her great-grandmothers and coax them to come down to see Harry.
Cold sweat broke out on her upper lip, and she wiped at it with the back of her hand. Discovering that Harry was her fourth great-grandfather was one thing. It had happened by accident, and before she knew it. But intentionally presenting herself to her great-grandmothers was another thing, even though they would never know she was their descendant. What would they think of her? Did she measure up? Had their combined DNA found its way into an attractive, intelligent woman to be proud of?
Leigh flung herself away from the window and left her bedroom. She turned for Harry’s room to check on him. The bathroom door was closed, and she assumed Jeremiah was in there. With a soft tap, she opened Harry’s door and noted that he was sleeping. She eased the door shut and retreated down the stairs to the kitchen.
The seemingly indefatigable Mrs. Jackson was indeed already up, with pots and pans covering the stove.
“Good morning,” she said in a cheery tone. “How is your great-grandfather today?” She bustled around pouring out a cup of coffee and handing it to Leigh before returning to ladling out pancake batter onto a griddle.
“He was sleeping when I checked on him. I feel awful because Jeremiah watched over him all night. I thought he might wake me a few hours ago to take a shift, but he didn’t.”
“Oh, I’m sure he slept in a chair. The doctor has known many sleepless nights when there are babies to be delivered or accidents.”
“That’s right! I forgot that would be a problem for him, as the only doctor in town.”
“The only doctor in a twenty-mile radius. I don’t think Dr. Cook sees it as a problem though. He loves what he does.”
Leigh nodded and sat down at the table to drink her coffee. “Yes, I can see that he does. He’s very good at it. He has a wonderful bedside manner with Harry.”
“That poor man,” Mrs. Jackson murmured. She flipped pancakes as she talked.
“I know.” Leigh sighed. “He seems stubborn. It’s no wonder he got so ill. From the looks of his shack, it doesn’t appear as if he’s living very well at all. He’s very thin.”
“You’ve heard me say it. He is stubborn. Always has been,” Mrs. Jackson said. “Stubbornness can be a good trait, and it can be harmful.”
“I know,” Leigh said with another sigh. “I’ve been called stubborn in my time too, and it’s usually not meant as a compliment.”
“No! You? Stubborn?” Mrs. Jackson laughed and scooped some pancakes out of the pan before ladling more batter. “I’m teasing. I saw how stubborn you were the first night you came. You take after your great-grandfather!”
Leigh smiled. “I’m nervous about meeting my great-grandmothers,” she said tentatively. “Probably more than I am about meeting Harry. Well, I didn’t know he was my ancestor when I met him, but I will know about Nancy and Rosanna.”
Mrs. Jackson looked over her shoulder toward Leigh. “I can’t imagine how you must feel. What is making you nervous? That they will discover who you are? I shouldn’t think that is likely if you don’t tell them.”
“No, I don’t think they’d imagine in a million years that their great-granddaughter is standing in front of them, but I want them to think well of me, how one of their descendants turned out, how I turned out.”
Leigh blushed and put her hands to her cheeks.
Mrs. Jackson scooped the rest of the pancakes onto a plate, wiped her hands on her apron and came to sit beside Leigh. She took one of Leigh’s hands in hers.
“You are a lovely young woman. They would be very proud of you if they knew how clever and smart you are.”
“Mrs. Jackson!” Leigh exclaimed. “How sweet of you to say.”
“Nothing but the truth, my dear. Now, take your coffee into the dining room, and I’ll follow with breakfast.”
“Can I help with anything?”
“No, I can manage. I think I hear the doctor in the hall.”
Mrs. Jackson picked up a tray of food, and Leigh followed her. Jeremiah was in the hallway, looking clean and fresh, as if he’d slept the night through. His conservative Prussian-blue suit complemented his eyes. He sported a rather festive harvest-gold tie that matched his vest.
“Good morning,” he said to both women, allowing them to precede him into the dining room.
Leigh noted that Mrs. Jackson had already set out a coffee service on the table. She unloaded her tray of pancakes and other goodies.
She checked the watch pinned to her blouse. “Katherine will be here soon. I was thinking I would make Harry some soft food. Do you think he could eat something more substantial than broth? He must be so tired of soup.”
“You could try,” Jeremiah said. “Keep it thin and light though. And press more tea or lemonade or water on him. He must stay hydrated.”
Mrs. Jackson nodded and left the room. Almost immediately, they heard a knock on the front door. Jeremiah rose to go get it, but Mrs. Jackson hurried past the dining room door on her way to the front of the house. Jeremiah waited.
Within a minute, Katherine appeared in the doorway, elegant in a simple white waist blouse and chocolate-brown merino skirt. Her hat, a lovely confection of matching brown straw, sported a spray of white daisies.
“Good morning!” she said enthusiastically as she glided into the room. Despite—or perhaps because of—Katherine’s former work, she had a lovely grace about her tall bearing.
“Good morning, Katherine,” Jeremiah said, still standing. “Would you like some breakfast?”
“Good morning, Katherine,” Leigh said with a wide smile.
“No, thank you. I ate with John and the children. I will take a cup of coffee, though, on my way up to see Harry.”
“I truly appreciate your help today,” Jeremiah said. “I left Harry sleeping, and I believe Mrs. Jackson is making some breakfast for him. Nothing too heavy. He’s to have as much to drink as he wants of tea, lemonade or water. Actually, do push the liquid on him. The fluid will soften the phlegm in his lungs.”
“Got it,” Katherine said. She poured herself a cup of coffee from the urn on the table. “So you’re off to Orting!”
“We are,” Jeremiah said, “just as soon as we’ve breakfasted.”
“How are you going up there? Taking your buggy?”
“I am. I have not had the buggy on the road in some time. I look forward to it.”
“Good luck,” she said. “I know this is stressful for you, Leigh. I have faith that this will all work out.”
“I hope so,” Leigh said with a smile. “Thank you.”
“Well, let me go upstairs. How do I find Harry’s room?”
“I will take you up to his room,” Jeremiah said.
He escorted Katherine from the room, and Leigh helped herself to some of Mrs. Jackson’s pancakes, which were delicious. She was just pouring herself another cup of coffee when Jeremiah returned.
“You are almost done!” he said when he sat down.
Leigh waggled her eyebrows. “They were delicious!”
/> “Mrs. Jackson is an excellent cook.”
He settled food on his plate and ate fairly quickly.
“Don’t hurry because I’m finished,” Leigh said. “I can wait.”
“I never meant to dally at breakfast this morning, so I am glad that you are finished. I did hope to get going fairly early. The trip to Orting will take about an hour and a half. Of course, we need to find Mrs. Reid and her daughter and then speak to them. I would like to buy you lunch while we are there. Additionally, I think we might stop in a shop to see what they might have ready to wear for you. I was not able to send you shopping with Mrs. Jackson yesterday as I wished.”
Leigh looked down at her blue gingham dress. “So I shouldn’t have worn this a second day? I thought maybe you all did. Actually, now that I think about it, Mrs. Jackson was wearing something different today. Whoops!”
Jeremiah’s face transformed into a grin. “We change our underclothing and shirts every day. I might sport the same suit two days in a row. I suspect ladies usually change their undergarments and blouses every day, perhaps dresses too.”
Leigh pursed her lips. “Corsets? Do you think we change those every day?”
As she had hoped, Jeremiah’s cheeks turned red.
“I truly cannot say.”
“I imagine not,” Leigh said. “Since we wear a chemise and then a corset cover, it seems likely that we can wear them more than once, maybe even more than that!”
“I simply could not say,” he repeated, chewing furiously.
“I appreciate your offer to stop in a store, but I really wouldn’t know exactly how to buy clothes or what to buy. Maybe I should wait and go shopping with Mrs. Jackson or even Katherine.”
“Very sensible,” he said. “Very sensible indeed. I do not know what I was thinking.”
“You were being very thoughtful and generous,” Leigh said. “You know I was only teasing you about the corsets, but I really wouldn’t know how to shop for clothes in this era, and I can’t imagine what the clerks might say about you buying me clothes since we’re not—” Leigh smiled.
“Married,” Jeremiah finished. He looked down into his cup of coffee.
“Mmmhmmm,” Leigh murmured. She sipped her coffee and tried to act as if she wasn’t embarrassed. Jeremiah was still in love with Tanya, and that was fine with her. She was still in love with Sam. She had no room in her heart for another man. Love meant loss. Loss meant pain. She had lost enough in her time.
“Are you ready?” Jeremiah asked.
“I am,” she said.
Chapter Fourteen
Jeremiah gave the reins a flick, and Maximilian, his horse, moved out.
“Whooee!” Leigh exclaimed. “I’ve never been in a buggy.”
She held on to her hat, as if it would fly off her head, but truthfully, Jeremiah had set a slow pace.
“No, I imagine you have not,” he said with a smile. “You do have a hatpin in your hat, do you not?”
She smiled and lowered her hands. “I do. Mrs. Jackson gave me one, but you know that I’m not used to wearing hats.”
“I promise we shall not race for Orting. You are used to seat belts in automobiles—you call them cars, I believe.”
“Another Tanya-ism?” Leigh asked.
Jeremiah swung his head to look at Leigh, who averted her face in embarrassment.
“I beg your pardon?” he asked, returning his attention to the road as they turned to head up the hill leading out of Kaskade.
“Nothing,” Leigh muttered. She really didn’t understand why the mythical Tanya got under her nerves, but Leigh couldn’t deny that she did.
The ascent toward what would become the Kapowsin Highway was a gradual incline, not the steep grade it was in her time. In the future, the two-lane highway bypassed the lake and boat launch area with barely time for a glance through the thick trees at the mystical water.
Leigh hoped that Jeremiah would ignore her comment as he concentrated on maneuvering the horse up onto the main road leading toward Orting. To see it as a rutted dirt road instead of an asphalted highway was surreal, but then everything had been to date.
A large three-story white building farther up a hill to the left couldn’t fail to catch her attention. It stood near the church.
“What is that building?”
“That is the school. It is a fine building, is it not?”
“Very grand for this small town. Funny! I never realized the building was there!”
“No? Tan—” He paused. “I was told that the foundation and steps leading to the school are still there in your time, albeit moss and vine covered.”
“Really? I’ll have to look.” Leigh didn’t miss Jeremiah had been about to mention Tanya again.
He turned to look at her. “You mean when you return?”
“Yes, of course. That’s what I meant. When I get back.”
“Of course,” he repeated.
The buggy rolled on along the road with Kaskade in full view. Few trees stood to hide the lake. Leigh was surprised at the size of the town. It seemed as if there were dozens of buildings, from houses to shacks, stores to the church, recognizable by its spire.
“What a thriving little metropolis,” Leigh murmured.
Logs floated at the east end of the lake near a large warehouse-style building that she assumed was the timber mill.
“I enjoy it,” Jeremiah said.
He waved at a couple driving a wagon coming from the opposite direction. Several children filled the back of the wagon, along with what looked like crates of fruits.
“That is the Hunsucker family. They come in from Orting weekly and supply the mercantile in town.”
Leigh nodded. They rolled on until they turned left on a road sooner than Leigh expected.
“Don’t we parallel the Puyallup River?” she asked. “The highway goes along the river heading north. At least it does in my time.”
“No, that is the long way. This is the Orting-Southern road. It’s a direct road to Orting, perhaps not as scenic but much faster.”
“Oh! I’ve been on this road. It wanders through the hills above the river.”
“Yes, it is elevated above the river valley. Very convenient when the river floods and overspills the other road.”
“I’ll bet.”
“Now then. What is a ‘Tanya-ism’?”
Leigh swallowed hard and turned away to look at the rolling hills of green grass on either side of the road.
“I’m sorry. I was being rude,” she said without looking at him.
“Was it rude? I could not tell. I do not know what an ‘ism’ is.”
“Truism, altruism, fascism, pacifism, you know. A philosophy. I can’t really define it.”
“Ah! The suffix. Yes, I am familiar with it now. I did not understand it in the context of Tanya-ism.”
“I was being snarky.”
“Yet again another term I do not understand.”
“Sarcastic,” Leigh said. “I am sorry.”
“I acknowledge your apology but still do not understand the need for it. Were you suggesting that Tanya had a philosophy? How could you know that?”
“No, it was just a reference to—” Leigh swallowed hard. “It’s just that you often mention Tanya and what Tanya said.”
“Yes?”
“So I said ‘Tanya-ism.’ And I said I was sorry.”
“You were suggesting that I quote Tanya too often?”
Leigh shook her head. “Look, can we just drop this? I was rude, and I have apologized.”
“If the subject makes you uncomfortable, then certainly we may drop it. I am not offended, however. Tanya might be, but I am not. I think it rather amusing, to tell you the truth. Are there Leigh-isms to be heard?”
Leigh laughed outright. “Oh, I’m sure there are.”
“For instance?”
Leigh shrugged, still smiling. “I don’t know. Hmmm, let’s see. What was I just thinking about today? I had a philosophy of sorts. ‘L
ove means loss. Loss means pain.’” She looked over at Jeremiah.
He drew in a deep breath and let it out in a sigh.
“No good?” she asked.
“It is dark.”
“I know.”
“I do believe that loss brings pain, but does love always mean loss?”
“In my experience, it does,” she said.
“Yes, I know.”
“And as we mentioned before, you’ve lost a lot too.”
“My parents certainly. Patients inevitably. I mourn each one.”
“And?” she prodded.
“And?” he repeated.
“Tanya?”
He took his eyes off the road to look at her.
“Yes. Tanya.”
Though Leigh had suspected Jeremiah still mourned the loss of Tanya, her throat tightened at his confirmation. A part of her had wanted him to say “Tanya who?” or “Now that I’ve met you, I can hardly remember Tanya.” Better yet, “You are the only woman I can think about.”
She forced such foolish romantic yearnings from her mind. No, Sam was the only man she would ever love. They had been together so long. One didn’t fall in love in a day or two. That was infatuation, and as long as she recognized it for what it was, she’d be all right. Anyone could become infatuated. Real love, enduring love, came from years of shared experiences.
She was never again going to meet a man that she’d grown up with, a man whom she’d watched mature from teenage boy to manhood. Leigh couldn’t imagine falling in love with a stranger. Jeremiah was a nice man, of that there was no doubt. But she knew nothing about him, about his upbringing, his values, his experiences. Furthermore, he just happened to live in the wrong century.
She looked at him out of the corner of her eye. Handsome as could be in his dark felt derby and blue suit, Jeremiah was every girl’s dream. She wished the best for him and hoped that he would find a woman to marry, that he didn’t turn his back on marriage because one silly female couldn’t see what he had to offer.
Over the rumbling of the wheels and the thud of the horse’s hooves, Leigh heard a shout from behind them. She looked over her shoulder to see a rider trotting toward them. The rare sunshine gleamed on his blond sideburns. He sat tall on his bay horse and raised a hand in greeting.
