Warne and Violet exchanged glances over her head. “Maudie,” he said, “do you know where your mama and papa and sisters are?”
She shook her head, then stopped, compelling them to also halt. Passersby glanced at them before going on, apparently saying to themselves that people had many reasons for behaving strangely this morning. People wandering in the streets in various stages of shock were common these days. Perhaps they’d lost family and friends and all earthly goods in one terrible night. Children were left without parents, parents without their children. At least these three had each other.
“Mama sent me to gather the eggs, but I saw my cat and chased after him. Mama called us for supper and I saw Papa go in.” She seemed to choke and her eyes filled with tears. “But before I could follow, I heard a noise like thunder. When I turned back around the barn was gone and the yard and the house. I couldn’t see anybody, not even the cows. I was all by myself.” She started to shake. “Find them, Warne. Find them.”
Warne reached down to pick her up and carry her in his arms. “We’ll see what we can do, Maudie, but right now we’re going to Violet’s house where we can rest and get something to eat.”
Violet understood that he didn’t think the girl should be questioned further. She had to be pressed beyond her abilities to deal with this catastrophe so unexpectedly come her way.
She only hoped when they got to the house, some part of it would still be standing. Enough to give them a place to stay in this beleaguered city.
They had no money. That meant they would have to walk the long, long way through rubble tossed streets. She hoped this dream would end before they had to travel that distance. She comforted herself with the thought that if and when she woke up, she could cook herself a hot breakfast and have a warm bath.
“Wake up,” she murmured to herself. “Wake up right now.”
It didn’t happen and Warne shook his head to indicate that she was scaring Maudie.
They walked on through the increasingly crowded streets in silence.
A whole parade of people went out to look across at where the Clarence farm used to be. Some of them were in buggies like Papa, Caleb and Betsy. Papa went along because he said if there had been an accident of some kind, a doctor would be needed.
For the same reason Mama stayed in town, in case medical help was needed there. The constables weren’t even called as Grandpapa said they should be left in town which was their main duty, but a small posse of young men rode horseback ahead of the buggies. They joked and laughed about how old man Bolger must be losing his wits, though they were careful that the farmer himself didn’t hear them.
They made humor of the matter, Betsy knew, because they were scared and didn’t think it proper that other people guess that brave men like them could get frightened over a silly story.
Now that her children were safely left behind in the care of their protesting young aunt, Betsy didn’t care if anybody knew she was scared and worried. She’d known something serious was wrong last night as had Caleb. More than anybody else, they were close to believing Ezra Bolger’s wild story.
Betsy knew that strange things happened in and around Lavender, Texas.
Even the youngsters were silenced when they came into the area where the creek had been. Had been. It was gone now and Lavender seemed to stretch with grasslands dotted with a tree here and there to the horizon. It all looked perfectly normal as though this was the way it had always been.
But Betsy knew the truth. A lovely little tree-lined creek where she’d picnicked with her family should be here at this spot where she and her mom had first walked into Lavender all those years ago.
As they moved ahead the buggies bumping along a way that was more cattle path than a real road the landscape seemed to bend so that instead of continuing on to the east, they started heading south. The community of Lavender, town and countryside, lay within a circle with no way out, though Betsy knew that on the other side lay a major, modern highway and, within sight, a huge 21st century city.
Over there in that place where she could no longer reach, her sister Eddie and her brother-in-law Zan waited for word of them.
The gentle touch of her husband’s hand brought her back to the present and she looked up, knowing that over the hill ahead should be the home once occupied by Seth, the old farmer who had first welcomed Cynthia and her small daughter to Lavender. He was gone now and the house had been enlarged and improved to be home for the five members of the young Clarence family.
She grabbed hold of Caleb’s hand as they went over the hill, almost certain by now of what they would see. She hadn’t known the Clarences and their little daughters well, but each person who lived in Lavender was dear to her.
As she’d expected, when the buggy pulled over the hill the view ahead was only of more green summer pastures.
A part of Lavender had been chipped away and with it had gone the Clarences, their home and even their few animals.
It was as though they had never existed.
She sat frozen, listening to her husband’s soft and passionate swearing.
Chapter Fourteen
Considering the city blocks they’d had to traverse, the damage and debris that blocked their way, it was late in the day before, Maudie sleeping against his shoulder, he followed Violet onto the square where she said they would find her house.
Compared to the east side, this was a relatively undamaged area with only a house now and then either in ruins or the site empty, looking like blackened or missing teeth in an otherwise well-maintained mouth.
Few people were outside here, but hovered in their aging mansions as he guessed from the aging faces he saw peering out from behind the curtains at a world that must seem for the second time in their lives to have gone mad. The last war, the war to end all wars, had only been a couple of decades back.
They had seen their sons die and now it was their grandsons they were sending off to battle. After a half day walking at Violet’s side, he’d learned a lot about her homeland and the destruction that from his viewpoint in 1910 Lavender still lay ahead.
“There it is,” Violet said, pointing up the street. It was, of course, one of the damaged houses, now a big and hovering hulk that he could barely imagine as a refuge.
“We can’t go in there,” he said, quickly analyzing the dangling arches, the partially fallen roof in the front. He could see that it had once been a spacious dwelling with the beauty of a bygone era, but now it was a sad old lady fit only to be torn down. “It wouldn’t be safe.”
“We must have someplace to stay and we may find food in the kitchen. We’re tired and hungry and poor little Maudie is beyond that.”
He looked at the child. She was too exhausted to even stir at the sound of their voices. She lay in his arms, limp and pale. They’d managed to get water for her as they crossed the city, begged from strangers, but the only food she’d had was an apple Violet had snatched when a street vendor was looking the other way.
Neither of them had eaten anything and his grinding stomach reminded him of the fact of his hunger. Quickly he shook off thoughts of his own discomfort, his concern for Maudie and Violet.
“You can stay with Violet under that tree,” he nodded at a lofty oak, enough of its leaves left to provide shade, “while I see if I can break in and get something for us to eat.”
She didn’t answer immediately, but as they approached the mansion examined it with intent eyes. “It looks just the way it did,” she said, sounding puzzled.
He raised questioning eyebrows.
“There was the second bombing when we were all hurt and ended up in Lavender. The walls and ceiling fell in back of the house, but it’s still there, that part of the house is hardly damaged.”
He shook his head. He’d been through so many mental mazes in the last few days that he couldn’t even pretend to try to find answers.
“If the back is safe, maybe we can find a place to stay there.”
She nodde
d and took the lead, making a wide circle through what had once been a lovely garden.
When he came to a stop, almost too weary to take another step, he saw they were facing a rather modest side door. “We’ll go in here,” Violet said.
The door was locked and if Violet had a key it was long gone, but he lay Maudie down on the ground, where she awakened to begin to cry softly.
Violet came to offer soothing words of comfort. “We’re safe, little one. Warne and Violet are with you. You’re not alone.”
“Mama,” the child whispered in that broad Texas accent that seemed both sweetly familiar and strangely out-of-place to Warne’s ears. “Where are we?”
“Home,” Violet answered simply, cuddling the child in her arms as Warne, with his background of training and experience as a constable easily got the door open, then went inside to try to spot any dangers before he allowed the other two to enter.
The silence inside the house lay around him as he walked into a hallway where boots, shoes and umbrellas lay tumbled to the floor so that he had to step around them as he found his way through what seemed like a back hall. Guests at least would have come in through the ornate front doors to be greeted formally by servants. Maybe the working folk came in this way and deliveries were received here.
Next was a huge kitchen with a big cooking stove and deep sinks. It was a set up for serving meals to a small army and even at a glance he could see modern appliances beyond anything available in his own time. This was 1940, he reminded himself; the future was here with all its marvels.
A few dishes lay shattered on the floor. Some of the cupboard doors stood open. Otherwise the bomb hadn’t produced much damage here.
He passed by several other doors to head toward the front of the house. Dark laughter rolled from deep within him, echoing oddly in the abandoned house. He’d gone to the trouble to break in the back door when all he’d had to do was approach from this direction. Not only could he see the cloudy gray of the sky through the openings overhead, but whole walls were gone, the rooms exposed to the air.
Rain had fallen since the bombing and the collapsed ceilings and walls lay sodden on what had been a floor.
Furniture, sculpture and paintings set oddly, most of it smashed into a mixture of loss while over in one corner a lovely old desk stood virtually untouched.
This was a place that a whole family, both kin and servants, had lived for who knew how many generations. The beauty and pride had been smashed in the war, even as had the more modest but equally important homes of east-enders like the Johnsons hovering in their Anderson shelter.
And the loss of life. He considered those who had been left lying under the debris as the bombers flew away, their mission done.
Violet had been here, had been part of the whole tragedy. He had to get her and little Maudie back home to Lavender before another wave of terror rolled over them.
He’d turned, intending to go out and bring Violet and Maudie into the back of the house when he halted abruptly at the sound of a familiar voice. “Warne?” Forrest Stephens called. “Son, you need to wake up. We’ve got an emergency here.”
He blinked his eyes and sat up, glancing around without understanding to find he was in his bed at the rooming house and that late afternoon sunlight came in through the double bank of western windows.
Violet waited, patting Maudie’s bony back and expecting Warne to call to them to come inside.
She waited, then waited some more, hearing the noise of a car moving past out front. It was late in the day and most likely people were returning home after work. In the past, this neighborhood would not have been one inhabited by those engaged in trade, but by members of the elite. Since the last war, however, many had slipped in status and means, as had the dwellers in the once elegant neighborhood. For years the members of Lady Laura’s family had tried to talk her into moving into a more notable address, but she had refused. The history of the Smythe-Hatton family lay in this house, she’d always insisted, and she would not be driven out, not even by war.
Death had accomplished that purpose, however, and now only a kitchen servant was left while the family hid out from the bombs at the distant country property.
Where was Warne?
As if sensing her unease, Maudie began to quietly sob. Poor kid, she’d been through too much. Deciding to ignore Warne’s command that they stay outside until he’d completed his search, she said, “Come on, Maudie. Let’s go find Warne.”
The little girl clung tightly to her hand as they went inside. “I used to live here before I went to Lavender,” Violet kept up a soft spoken monologue to reassure Maudie as they tiptoed through the quiet house, telling her how she’d grown up here as a kitchen helper, how she’d scrubbed floors and peeled vegetables and slept in one of the little rooms at the top of the house with two other girls.”
“I share with my sisters,” Maudie said. “Or at least I used to.”
Violet asked her to name her sisters and then tell about her pets on the farm back in Texas, but barely registered the answers as she took in the damage in the house. They could find temporary shelter in the back of the house, she decided. It didn’t look as if it would fall on them unless it was hit by another bomb. She cast a look through an opening where a window used to be and was reminded that before long night would fall and the risk of another bombing raid would rise.
They must find food, water and a hiding place before then, but where was Warne?
“Did you hurt your leg?” Maudie’s thin little voice barely penetrated the haze of her worry, but then she took in the words and realized that as they went through the house, she was limping.
The dream was over and she was back in reality where she’d been born with a damaged leg and had limped since she began to walk. The dream was ended and Warne wasn’t here. In sudden panic, she hurried through once familiar rooms, now looking as though giant hands had smashed and disordered them. “Warne?” she called as loud as she could, and then went through the house shouting his name. “Warne! Warne!”
She hardly expected an answer and stopped when she came to the area of most damage where she and Maudie would be at risk. He was gone and she was left with the responsibility for the little girl.
“What’s happened to Warne?” Maudie asked, her voice choked with fear.
“He’s all right,” she reassured herself as well as the child. “He’s just gone back home to Lavender.”
“Why didn’t he take us?” Maudie whispered.
Violet knelt to put her arms around the thin little shoulders. “He couldn’t, Maudie. He would never have left us behind if he had any choice.”
She expected the child to break into more tears. Instead she nodded, pale and calm. “Like Mama and Papa. They wouldn’t have left me if they could’ve helped it.”
The first thing was to find food and drink for both of them. The house had been so well-stocked when the others left that they’d managed to live on what was in its pantries by adding what fresh produce they could buy in the markets. To her relief, Violet found tinned foods still lined the shelves and was able to find soup which they ate unheated and bottled fruit juice which provided them with liquid.
They ate hungrily even though in other circumstances she would have found the cold vegetable soup unpalatable, but it tasted so delicious that she got second helpings for both of them.
The house had piped water, electricity and a gas cooker, but of course none of these were working since the latest damage. She was just grateful that she didn’t scent gas in the air as she’d heard stories of terrible explosions after bombings .
There was one small coal stove in the housekeeper’s old rooms, a leftover from earlier times. Tomorrow she would go down to the cellar and look for fuel so they could use it to heat their food.
In the meantime, the inside of the house was darkening as dusk began to fall outside. Because of her familiarity with the house she was able to find candles and matchsticks and leading the way to the b
ack bedroom where she’d slept since the family left, she made sure the blackout curtains were firmly in place and then lit a candle.
Everything was as she’d left it and she was able to find a nightgown for herself and a soft blouse that provided sleepwear for Maudie.
The room had once been used for guests and was comfortably outfitted with a large bed, shrouded in curtains, an old-fashioned vanity with mirror, chairs and even a desk. A thin covering of dust tarnished the furniture, but otherwise it seemed untouched by the damage out front. Violet hoped and prayed that the ceiling was as intact as it looked and wouldn’t come falling down on them as they slept.
Maudie cuddled under the blankets even though it wasn’t a cold night and Violet guessed she was trying to hide from an increasingly scary world.
She blew out the candle and closed her eyes tight against the darkness and crawled into her side of the bed. This place was safer than any other she knew and yet the damaged front of the house left them open to vandals who could come looking for what they could salvage.
And the bombers would come again, if not tonight then tomorrow or the next night.
Buried deepest among her fears lay the possibility that Warne was still here, that he’d gone searching in the front of the house and falling debris had buried him unconscious beneath it. She didn’t really believe he was still here and knew how dangerous it was to try to look for him in that area, but the very slim possibility kept her awake for a long time.
When she finally slept the dreams began.
Chapter Fifteen
Warne called Forrest to come in even while he pulled on his trousers and reached for his boots. The old man, normally so perfectly groomed, had dirt on his knees as though he’d knelt on the ground, his jacket hung crookedly and his white hair was a disordered blaze that framed an alarmed face.
“Whole family missing,” he said excitedly, “and bits of our land gone. Just gone, Warne. People are upset and we need all our men on duty.”
Lavender Dreaming: A Time Travel Romance (Lavender, Texas Series Book 5) Page 9
