Kindred Spirits

by Julianne Lee

  Father didn’t seem to approve. He frowned as she sat in Mary Beth’s spot at the table. Mother said, “Mary Beth. I thought we’d disposed of that dress.”

  Shelby wasn’t certain how to respond, but shrugged, “Apparently not. I saw it in there this morning and thought I’d give it an airing.”

  “Perhaps you’ll want to change after breakfast, dear. That dress should have been passed to the servants long ago.”

  “I rather like it.”

  “It doesn’t suit you.” Meaning, it revealed her lack of curves.

  “I’ll wear it today, then pass it along tomorrow.”

  Mother fell silent and attended to her food. Father refrained from addressing the issue, though it was plain he didn’t care for the dress. Shelby eyed her plate, irritated by the whole discussion and wishing she could fit into the clothing available to her. Better yet, she wished for a pair of jeans. Old, saggy, faded, stretched-out ones that wouldn’t cut her through the middle.

  As dishes were passed, she discovered she was famished. She could hardly wait to dig into her plate of eggs, thick-sliced bacon and grits. And she hated grits. But now she ate them and liked them.

  Father filled the silence with a cough, then said, “Caught Bumper Carmichael in the quarters this morning, inciting the field hands to run away.”

  “Bumper Carmichael?”

  “One of Henry’s darkies. That buck is more trouble than he’s worth, I’m telling you. Next time he’s caught over here, I’ll have him shot and Henry can just take the loss. Last thing I need is that nigger putting ideas in the heads of our help.”

  Shelby flinched. Having been raised to never say that word, she now looked at Mr. Campbell and wished she could tell him to knock it off.

  And he continued, the conversation as one-sided as it had been the night before. “These niggers, they just don’t know any better than to believe what anyone will tell them. They’re just like children.”

  “They’re not.” It was out before Shelby could think better of it.

  Father blinked at her. “When have you ever known Annie to have a sensible thing to say?”

  Shelby glanced at Annie, who stared at the floor so nobody would see her eyes. She hadn’t known Annie long enough to have heard her say much of anything. To Father, Shelby said, “People get treated like children, they act like children.”

  He laughed, and that stung. Heat rose to her cheeks and ears as he shook his head in deep amusement. “Darkies aren’t people.” He chuckled some more, then continued, “Mary Beth, I don’t know what’s gotten into you, but I’d advise you to quit talking this sort of nonsense. Not if you wish to be taken for an adult and a lady.”

  Shelby shut her mouth, angry enough that anything she might say at that moment would be irresponsible and regrettable. A glance at Annie, who hadn’t moved a muscle, then Shelby returned her attention to her breakfast and closed her ears as Father continued at great pains to explain why “darkies” shouldn’t be considered people. None of the women spoke again for the duration of the meal, as Father never paused until he was finished eating then rose from the table without excusing himself.

  Shelby sighed with relief when he left. Then she picked at her eggs and wished she could fit some more into her stomach. It was a sure thing she’d be falling-down hungry by midday, but she just couldn’t eat any more in this corset.

  That morning, Shelby found herself tagging along with Father again, riding in his buggy between the fields behind the house and crossing Drake’s Creek by a nearby ford rather than going all the way north to the bridge. This time they found themselves at the much smaller house of another tobacco planter who lived by a lake so small it was nearly a pond.

  “Indian Lake,” Shelby whispered to herself. She’d heard of it, but never seen it because in her time the little lake itself had been quite overwhelmed forty years before by the lake behind Old Hickory Dam. In the twenty-first century, the land up the slope from here would be the wealthiest part of Hendersonville, where sailboats and motor boats of some considerable size would be moored at their owners’ backyards. But now all that future lakefront property up the slope, as well as acres of future lake bottom, was planted with tobacco in between patches of thick forest, and the nearest boat dock big enough to accommodate more than a rowboat was in Nashville, several miles down river.

  Father let himself down from the buggy and left her there while he conversed with the man of this house. Shelby wondered why she’d been brought on this expedition if she wasn’t going to be asked to participate. Already she was bored. Too bad she hadn’t brought a book, for it was looking like they’d be there a while.

  The business at hand was wagons, as Shelby learned by listening in on the men’s conversation, for vehicles to haul harvested tobacco to and fro were at a premium during these weeks. It appeared Father and his friend were working cooperatively to bring in the sheaves. But as she listened from the buggy, she realized the man was not a fellow plantation owner at all, but rather was Father’s overseer. This land was among that owned by William Campbell.

  The men talked and Shelby listened, ignored. She left the buggy and wandered to a tree near the house, where a bench stood. It was roughly made, and would leave splinters in her dress, but there was nowhere else to sit that her dress wouldn’t be hopelessly dirtied. Splinters were the lesser evil, so she arranged her hoop—the smaller one today—and sat in the cool fall breeze, wishing she were home in the future, doing her job and settling into her new house. Lucas’s old house. This was not fun, and any more it wasn’t even interesting.

  No wonder her heart leapt when she saw up the road a cluster of horses on leads, and the rider leading them was Lucas. These animals weren’t the sort of thoroughbred she’d seen him riding yesterday, but instead these were work horses suitable for pulling wagons. Now she knew why she’d been commanded to come along on this business trip, and she bit her lip to hide a smile.

  Her first impulse was to run over and say hi, but she resisted it. It might be unseemly to show too much enthusiasm. Father would be critical of unladylike behavior, lest Lucas might be put off by it. Besides, she couldn’t hope to second guess what Mary Beth would have her do. Allowing him the kiss yesterday had probably been a bad idea, for Mary Beth would be restored to her body soon and next time he tried to kiss her it would end up ugly. So she waited until the five horses were handed off to the overseer, who in turn passed them on to a slave who led them away, and then she waited some more while the men talked. She couldn’t hear what they were saying, but from the sound of their voices it seemed they were up to nothing more than shooting the breeze. Her impatience grew, but she held still.

  Lucas stood with his fingers slipped into his back pockets, casual but attentive to the older men. When he grinned at a joke, his smile lit up white, and when he spoke his voice was distinctively low. Shelby couldn’t help but think hunk. And her mind wandered in that direction.

  Hunkalicious.

  Hunkamundo.

  Robo-hunk. An idiot grin began to rise, and she fought it back. She had to look away, or run the risk of betraying herself. Her patience was wearing thin in this boredom. Much longer, and she would be ready to go over there and join the conversation just for something to do.

  And that might be as good an excuse as any.

  But before she became that desperate, Lucas separated himself from the others and headed toward her. Shelby’s heart began to beat faster, and she kept her attention on the trees overhead. The sun was nice here, and the fall leaves quite colorful. She admired them, and Lucas walked past, his gait a saunter and his boots scuffing slightly in the dirt with each step.

  A frown creased her brow, and she watched him go. She’d not noticed a well just beyond the tree that shaded her, and now Lucas went to it for some water. He dropped the bucket, pulled it back up on the rope, then removed his hat and bent to drink from his hand before splashing his face and neck thoroughly. A good shake of his head, and fingers run through his d
amp, jet-black hair, and he replaced his hat and turned toward her. His face and hands were now free of the dust and sweat from his ride here. The blue, collarless shirt he wore was somewhat faded and dusty, and dotted with drops of water, but his face shone clean.

  “Howdy.”

  “Howdy yourself, Lucas.”

  He came over and squatted on his heels before her, his elbows rested casually on his knees. “How have you been since yesterday? Got over your fainting spell, have you?”

  She nodded. The linen dress she wore today didn’t require nearly the extreme of tiny waist as did the more fancy dress she’d had on the day before, and the absence of stuffing at her breasts gave a lot more room for breathing. Though the corset was tight, it was no longer cutting off her circulation. She said, “How is your arm?”

  A wry smile lifted one corner of his mouth and he held out the injured arm. His sleeves were rolled down today, so the cut was covered. “It’s a mite sore, but it’ll heal. He glanced down at the arm, and for a moment Shelby saw the man she'd found asleep in her bed not long ago. But here he was, alive, without the slightest knowledge he would end up a trapped spirit consumed by grief. There was no way for him to apprehend that the course he was taking in courting Mary Beth was a mistake that would cost him his soul.

  Then he looked up at her and smiled, his face so open she thought she could see through to that soul. “I was wondering,” he said, now glancing away as he worked up to something emotionally risky, “whether you would care to accompany me to the dance tomorrow.”

  A smile lit her face before she could stop it, and her mouth opened to say she’d love to go, but then she closed it and looked away. It wouldn’t be right to lead him on and encourage a courtship Mary Beth obviously did not want. It could be uncomfortable for them both if the owner of this body returned from the future and found him with expectations she hadn’t encouraged.

  At her hesitation, he hurried to add, “I know I’ve left it late. I would have asked you yesterday, but it slipped my mind with all the...well, you know, excitement.

  She looked at him, and found such a light of humor in his eyes she knew he meant the kiss and not the fight. But, looking for a graceful way out of this, she grasped the one he’d just presented her. “Surely you’ve known about the dance longer than two days.”

  “Samuel Clarence told me he was taking you.”

  That made Shelby blink. “So you stepped aside? Why?”

  But Lucas shook his head. “He told me you’d already accepted his invitation. It wasn’t until day before yesterday Amos told me it was a lie. Your father had mentioned you were free for the dance, and they both wondered why I hadn’t asked you.”

  Ah. Shelby nodded. “I see.” She stared at her hands. “But that’s not the prob...that’s not why...”

  Disappointment dulled Lucas’s eyes, and she had a sudden urge to kiss him just to brighten them again. He said, “Then, what?”

  “I....” Oh, no. She couldn’t come up with a plausible reply that would neither hurt him more nor earn her a long lecture from Father on the way home. “I, um....” Damn. There was no graceful way out of this. She took a deep breath and said, “Actually, Lucas, I’d love to go to the dance with you.”

  That lit his eyes like fireworks, his smile bright and wide, and he stood. “Good.” He didn’t seem certain of what to say next, and so repeated, “Good.” He backed away a couple of steps.

  “You’re not leaving, are you?”

  He stepped toward her again, glanced at the bench next to her, but then looked toward his horse that had wandered to a trough by a paddock fence. “I’ve got to get back. Amos hates it when I duck out of the gelding, and he’s got three colts today needing it.”

  “You couldn’t beg off for a bad arm?”

  He smiled and shrugged. “I’d like to, but he’d just tell me I won’t bleed any more than them colts. Besides, he won’t start till I get back, and if I don’t get home he’ll just tear me up at supper about being lazy. Then it’ll still have to be done tomorrow.”

  “Before the dance.”

  “Right.”

  It looked like the huge difference in age between Lucas and his oldest brother put him at a disadvantage in the family. Amos was about fifteen years older, so Lucas wasn’t just the youngest brother, he was the baby of the family and probably would always be seen as such. She nodded. “Then, by all means, get on home. We can talk tomorrow.”

  He nodded, and there was a slight pause in him as if he were about to say something then changed his mind. But his smile warmed and he nodded again and touched the brim of his hat. “See you tomorrow.” With that, he backed off a few steps before turning to retrieve his horse and mount. A few more words to Father, and he kicked the horse to a trot and left.

  Tomorrow. A date with Lucas. Shelby found herself looking forward to it in spite of herself.

  Chapter 8

  The next day, Shelby found her heart lifting and fluttering like a teenager’s as she anticipated Lucas’s arrival. According to Father, he was to call for her at the Campbell house, even though the entire family was going to the dance and his trip would be much shorter if he met them on the road. Shelby even suggested it, and was met with puzzlement. Calling for her and transporting her to the event seemed expected, and anything less was deemed laziness and disrespectful.

  At the sound of horses and a clattering wagon on the drive outside, Shelby hurried to her bedroom window to see an open buckboard wagon. Lucas was sharply dressed in a dark wool coat and pants over a linen shirt with a high, stiff collar, and a new-looking hat with a round brim. Even though the wagon was not what one could call upscale, he drove two of the finest horses she’d ever seen. One a deep red roan, and the other a bay with a white muzzle, both sleek and brushed to a high shine. Shelby gazed at them as they trundled up the drive to the front porch, and felt a bit of a thrill. As slow and inconvenient as travel by horse could be, there was something to be said about the God-given beauty and grace of a well-bred animal. Had she been Mary Beth, the mere prospect of living on a farm that produced such fine stock would have been points in Lucas’s favor as a suitor.

  But she wasn’t Mary Beth. She would return to reclaim her life any day now. Perhaps any second. The thought was at once heartening and disheartening. A deep breath cleared Shelby’s head of silly thoughts as she retreated from the window and readied herself to go downstairs.

  “Come, Mary!” Susannah called from the hallway. “Lucas has arrived!” Tom Donelson was already there and had been waiting for several minutes downstairs in the parlor with Mother and Father. Shelby steeled herself and went with Mary Beth’s sister to meet Susannah’s beau. Shelby had been in this century for only three days, and already she was sick of being the “plain” sister. Let them give her a book to edit, and she would show them that beauty wasn’t everything. She had talents the beautiful but un-intellectual Susannah did not.

  However, no jobs were in the offing, so she accompanied Mary Beth’s sister down the stairs to hear the compliments not meant for her. At least she was able to breathe today. The dance being a casual and outdoor affair, akin to a barbecue and open to the entire township, the dress she wore was not the fanciest in Mary Beth’s wardrobe. No hoops, thank God, and it had been a wrangle with Mother to not have one. The lack of handkerchiefs in the bodice wasn’t terribly obvious, and she felt confident of not passing out from suffocation.

  The folks in the foyer below stood in a cluster near the archway to the drawing room, and erupted in a chorus of how lovely Susannah was in her emerald green dress and shiny red hair done up in cascading ringlets. Patiently, Shelby waited for the hoo-haw over the red-haired princess to die down, her smile tight on her face and her ears beginning to feel warm at the tips as she kept her gaze on the fireplace mantel beyond.

  But when she saw Lucas’s face, his eyes on hers, the deep awe in them brought as much joy as any amount of praise from the others could have. Hat in one hand, pressed to his side, he reac
hed for her hand with the other. Then he bowed and kissed her knuckles. Her heart fluttered with unaccustomed self-consciousness, for the formality seemed both silly and flattering. His hand was rough and strong, as it had been before, in her bed of the distant future. He looked up at her as he straightened, and murmured, “I’m breathless.”

  A joke about mouth-to-mouth resuscitation rose to her lips, but she kept it to herself for the compliment was too sweet and didn’t deserve a wisecrack reply nobody would understand anyway. Instead she smiled and said, “You’re very kind.”

  Father’s voice boomed out to the room as he herded everyone toward the door, “Well, if we’re all ready then let’s get a move on.”

  Shelby couldn’t tear her eyes from Lucas’s for a moment, until Annie helped her on with a heavy woolen cloak, then they all followed Father out the front door. He drove the Campbell buggy, with Mother his passenger and their covered dishes tucked away in baskets under the seats, and Susannah rode with Tom in his fine carriage drawn by matched horses. Bringing up the rear in the buckboard, Lucas slapped reins and his horses obeyed. Shelby perched carefully on the rigid bench seat, her corset still tight enough to make her posture straight and the low board across the back of the seat worthless for support. She sat carefully next to Lucas, unsure as to how close to get without leading him on, or how far away to sit without hurting his feelings.