by Bess McBride
Jared Warner, retired chief master sergeant, had found golf with a capital G. Golf, golfing buddies, and eighteen-hole golf courses took up much of his time in retirement. Annie had been twelve when her father retired, and her mother turned to her own activities. Her mother had truly been a golf widow but had compensated with bowling on leagues three nights a week. Annie hated both sports, for some reason.
Belinda and Claire returned, and Annie basked in the charming warmth of the setting in those moments when she wasn’t brainstorming ways she could get the family to avoid dairy for a while. About an hour and a half later, the children were sent upstairs to wash up and get ready for bed. Claire helped her mother with the young ones.
“I’ll be there in a minute,” Monroe said to them as they left. Once the clattering on the stairs faded, Monroe turned to Annie. He smiled kindly.
“How can I help you, Annie?” he asked. “I don’t have much spare cash, but I could give you some money for a train ticket back to Washington. In the eventuality that I might not be able to locate your luggage at the train station in the morning, of course.”
Annie’s heart skipped a beat. She wanted to say, “Oh, Grandpa! That’s so nice of you!” but what she ended up saying was very different.
“Thank you, sir,” she said, biting back “Grandpa.” “I couldn’t take your money. I will—”
What could she say? I’ll figure something out?
“Please call me Monroe. What will you do then? You can stay here as long as you like, but won’t you want to go home?” He tapped his palm to his forehead. “Why didn’t I think to ask? Is there someone we can telegraph in Washington? Someone who you would take help from? Who could help you get a ticket home?”
Annie swallowed hard.
“It’s not that I’m refusing your financial help...Monroe. It’s just that...well, I can’t impose. I can’t just drop in on you and Belinda out of the blue and beg for money. You don’t know me. I might be a fraud!” She knew she was rambling.
“You are no fraud, Annie. You are small framed like Belinda. You share the same color eyes and hair as the children and their mother. I might not have recognized you as a relative had I just met you on the street, but you are definitely a Burman.”
Annie melted. “Oh, Monroe.” She sighed. She had to tell him the truth. He could handle it, couldn’t he?
“Monroe, I have to be perfectly honest with you.”
He tilted his head. “Yes?”
“The children are ready, dear,” Belinda said, descending the stairs. “They would like to say good night to you.”
Monroe rose, and Annie plastered her lips together, grateful for the interruption.
“We’ll talk when I return, shall we?” Monroe asked.
No, no, that was not okay. Annie had changed her mind. She couldn’t possibly tell them the truth. She didn’t nod or shake her head.
As Monroe went upstairs, Belinda asked Annie if she wanted something to drink.
“Would you like some tea?”
Annie guessed it was about eight o’clock. She debated saying she was tired and wanted to go to bed in order to avoid any further conversations about her and her supposed predicament. She was there to help them! She couldn’t continue to be the main subject.
Alternatively, she was nervous about sleeping. What if she traveled back in time without convincing the family to avoid dairy for an indeterminate amount of time? Yet what could she truly do? How could she really stop what was to come? She was no scientist with charts, graphs, facts and figures. She was no doctor with trusted medical advice. She had no proof.
“Do you have a family doctor?” Annie blurted out, ignoring Belinda’s question about tea. Her second great-grandmother blinked.
“Are you ill? Dr. Mallory’s office will be closed at this time of evening. Do you need to go to the hospital, Annie? Is there anything I can do for you? Are you in pain? I know Monroe asked you earlier, but you have looked pained all evening.”
Annie shook her head. “Oh, no! I’m fine. It’s nothing serious. I thought I might go see the doctor tomorrow for...a headache. I have been having some headaches.” She hadn’t, but it sounded plausible.
“I have some aspirin! I don’t know if you have used it before, but Dr. Mallory gave us a couple of sample packages when Cathy twisted her ankle a couple of months ago. They worked wonders for her pain. Maybe they would work on your headaches?”
“Aspirin? I wish I could, but I can’t take aspirin. It gives me a stomachache.” Not an aspirin user, Annie repeated something she remembered her mother saying.
Belinda nodded. “Cathy didn’t experience any discomfort with it, but I took a pill several months ago for a backache, and I too had a stomachache. I do have some willow bark tea. That has helped me with my headaches.”
“I don’t have a headache right now,” Annie said, struggling to extricate herself from her lie. “But I thought I might visit the doctor to ask about future recommendations. You say his name is Dr. Mallory? Is his office close?”
“Yes, it’s just on the next block over. I can go over there with you tomorrow, if you like.”
“I wouldn’t want to trouble you,” Annie said. She wanted to talk to the doctor alone. “I could go over tomorrow.”
“It’s no trouble,” Belinda said. “I should go to the market to pick up some things. Claire and Cathy take care of the babies while I’m gone.”
Annie nodded with a smile. She would figure out a way to speak to the doctor alone. Her smile faded. What if the doctor charged her? She had no money!
“Actually, I might just wait till I get back to Washington.” Thwarted at every opportunity to stop the inevitable, she sighed heavily and dropped her eyes to her lap.
“If it is a matter of money, Monroe can pay the doctor’s bill,” Belinda said gently. “In fact, I think we must ask him for your train fare back to Washington, mustn’t we?”
Annie’s chin sagged to her chest.
“He already offered. I am so embarrassed.”
Belinda sat down on the sofa and patted Annie’s hand. “I imagine you must be. It will do me no good to tell you not to worry. You have done nothing to be ashamed of. This is not your fault.”
Annie covered her second great-grandmother’s hand with her own. Belinda’s skin was soft, warm and very much alive. Her blue eyes sparkled with good health.
Monroe came downstairs and saw them. He cleared his throat. “Am I interrupting a private moment?”
Belinda looked up and gave him an affectionate smile.
“Not private, dear. Annie was just asking about Dr. Mallory. She would like to visit with him. I was assuring her that you will help her pay for a doctor visit and her ticket back to Washington, but I believe you already talked to her about that, didn’t you?”
Monroe resumed his seat in one of the easy chairs. “Yes, and she was just as unhappy with the discussion that time.” His teeth flashed under his thick mustache.
“I’m so sorry,” Annie said. “This is really embarrassing.”
“I told her there was nothing to be embarrassed about,” Belinda said.
“And still...” Annie murmured.
“Is there anyone you wish to send a telegram to?” Monroe asked.
Annie wondered how long it would take a telegram to reach Danny. Other than that, she was fresh out of connections.
The night was long. Monroe started yawning early, and Annie took her cue and told Belinda she was ready to go to bed. Belinda retrieved the muslin nightgown she had loaned Annie and brought it to the bathroom, where Annie washed and changed as quickly as possible. She gathered up the mounds of clothing and her flats and left the bathroom to find Belinda waiting by her room.
“Let me take those,” Belinda whispered. “We’ll set them on a chair in Claire’s room.”
Annie turned over the clothing except for her shoes and followed Belinda to Claire’s room. She balked as light from a hallway sconce filled the room. Claire was fast asleep i
n a bed that was little more than a twin. Belinda didn’t notice and set Annie’s borrowed clothing down on a nearby chair before going over to the bed and pulling the covers back.
Feeling much like a child, Annie set down her shoes and slipped into the bed, noting that she and Claire would apparently be sharing a pillow as well. Belinda pulled the covers up to Annie’s neck and tucked them under her chin.
“I know the room is cold, but you’ll warm up soon enough,” Belinda whispered. “Claire is like a little stove.”
Belinda was right. Her great-grandmother’s childish body was emanating heat.
Belinda put her hand on Annie’s forehead. “Good night,” she whispered.
“Good night,” Annie said.
Claire stirred and turned over, pulling the covers with her.
“That girl,” Belinda murmured, adjusting the covers again. She left, and Annie, eyes wide open, lay in the dark, wondering how she could possibly sleep.
She had been gone over seven or eight hours. Danny would soon discover that she had disappeared. He would probably have texted her in the night, and definitely to say good morning. If he couldn’t reach her, he would probably go over to her house. He had his own key.
He would have seen that her car was still at her home, her purse and wallet still in the house, her phone on the desk. He wouldn’t hesitate to call the police. They had become close since they’d reconnected, so close that they checked in with each other often throughout the day. It had taken them no time at all to return to as intense an emotional bond as if they had parted only recently. She knew him, she loved him, and she believed him when he said he had never really stopped loving her.
She wanted to get back to Danny, to reassure him that nothing terrible had happened to her, but she wasn’t really sure that was true. What if she couldn’t return? How had she traveled back in time? What was the particular catalyst?
Right before she’d “traveled,” she recalled wishing fervently that she could warn Belinda about the danger to her and her son. Could she reverse the process by wishing she was back home, back in Danny’s arms?
I wish— She stopped herself. Nothing was going to stop Belinda and her children from eating ice cream or drinking milk or whatever dairy product had caused the fatal typhoid fever—not if she didn’t stay longer and try to do something more to stop them.
She couldn’t go back yet. She couldn’t test her theory so soon. If she had been sent back to fix the past, then she needed more time.
Not only was Great-Grandma Claire warm as a toaster, she snored. Annie smiled. She hadn’t known that. She listened to the purr of the thirteen-year-old girl beside her, marveling that if history held true, Claire would be married within three short years with a baby on the way.
Claire turned over again, her breath on the side of Annie’s face. Annie resisted giving Claire a kiss on the forehead and instead turned over and went to sleep.
Chapter Five
The following morning following a chaotic breakfast at the dining table, Monroe left. Instead of going on to work, he returned within an hour stating that there was no sign of her luggage. Annie mourned that he’d had to waste his time, but she hadn’t been able to dissuade him from making inquiries.
He left again to go to his store, and Belinda turned the smaller children over to Claire and Cathy with cautions and instructions, stating that she was going upstairs to get Annie a coat and hat.
She returned quickly, wearing a thick knee-length dark-brown winter coat and a lovely chocolate-brown straw hat on her head, with ruby-red satin ribbons. She held out a similar coat in navy blue and a matching hat with a spray of pink silk roses. Annie, in the same clothing Belinda had loaned her the day before, demurred on the hat.
“Oh, I wouldn’t know how to wear one of those.”
“You can’t go outside without a hat, Annie,” Belinda said, as if the idea was ludicrous. “Slip into this coat.” She held it out.
Annie did as she was told.
“Don’t you wear hats in Washington?” She settled the hat on Annie’s head and wielded a deadly looking hatpin before securing the hat to Annie’s hair in a painful twist.
“Yes?” Annie responded, wishing she could rip the thing off, but she thought her roots might come out with it.
“Let me get my basket from the kitchen.” Belinda hurried into the kitchen and returned with a large woven shopping basket. She then hustled a continuously protesting Annie out the door.
“No, no, please do not worry,” Belinda said. “If you truly feel you must pay Monroe back, then do so after you return home and have the means to do so.”
“Then that’s exactly what I’ll do!” Annie said firmly, with no possible means of repaying them.
Moments later, she walked with Belinda down a cobblestone street of attractive brick rowhouses. Belinda, seemingly very comfortable in the oversized hat perched precariously on her head, nodded at passersby.
“Do you know all those people?” Annie asked, admiring how friendly everyone was.
“Oh, no! We’ve only been here in Lancaster for about six months. It’s polite to greet people. Is it different in your area of Washington?”
“A little bit,” Annie said. They turned a corner, emerging onto another street, and Belinda stopped in front of a building, a rowhouse similar to all that they had passed. The trolley Annie had seen the day before rolled down the street with a clanging bell.
“Here we are!” A sign outside noted that they were in front of Dr. James Mallory’s medical office. Belinda opened the door, and they stepped into a parlor that had been converted to an empty waiting room with several padded wood benches. Belinda tapped on a bell on a coffee table and took a seat, setting her basket on the floor beside her.
“The doctor will come get us when he can.”
Annie presumed Dr. Mallory was a one-person shop without receptionist or nurse.
A tall man in a white doctor’s coat entered the waiting room from the rear. Annie’s eyes widened. No silver-haired kindly country physician, Dr. Mallory’s dark wavy hair matched his luxuriant mustache. Bright white teeth gleamed as he smiled at them. Warm brown eyes twinkled.
“Mrs. Sellers, how are you today? What can I do for you?” He eyed Annie with interest.
Belinda stood, and Annie followed suit, blushing unaccountably.
“Good morning, Dr. Mallory. I’m fine. This is my cousin, Miss Annie Warner. She is visiting from Washington State and wondered if she could see you regarding frequent headaches. That’s right, isn’t it, Annie?”
Annie nodded dumbly. What a handsome man! She noted he wore no wedding ring. Unfathomable.
Dr. Mallory held out his hand, and Annie shook it.
“I’m very pleased to meet you, Miss Warner. You’ve come a long way. You’re visiting family then?”
“Yes, I was hoping to do a bit of genealogical research here in Lancaster.”
“Goodness, I forgot that is why you came here, Annie.” Belinda laughed.
“Why don’t you step into my office?” the doctor said, indicating the way to the rear of the parlor.
Belinda followed the doctor, and Annie balked. What she had to ask the doctor needed to be private. Dr. Mallory turned back and quickly assessed the situation.
“Mrs. Sellers, why don’t you wait here for us? I promise Miss Warner will be in good hands. I shan’t need a chaperone to examine her for headaches.”
“Will you be all right, Annie?” Belinda asked.
“Oh yes.”
“I’ll wait right here then. Doctor Mallory always has the most delightful magazines to read.”
Dr. Mallory held the door open for her, and Annie stepped into what had probably once been the dining room but was converted into a medical office. She imagined the office furnishings were typical for a doctor in 1913. Several glass-fronted cherrywood cabinets held medical supplies and books. A small rolltop desk, largely hidden by papers and ledgers, flanked one wall. An interesting padded wooden ca
binet with drawers had a place of honor in the middle of the room. The stirrups made clear that the piece was an examination table. A few chairs were spaced throughout. As in modern doctors’ offices, framed diplomas served as wall art.
“Why don’t you sit here?” he suggested, indicating the exam table.
Annie hesitated. “I have to be honest with you about a couple of things. First off, I don’t have the money to pay you. I lost my luggage and purse on the train while traveling to Lancaster. No hope of getting them back. But I think Mr. Sellers is going to pay my bill. I’ll pay him back.”
Dr. Mallory nodded calmly. “That’s fine. Why don’t you sit here so I can examine you?” he suggested again. “How long have you been having headaches? Has anyone ever suggested that you need glasses?”
Annie shook her head. “No, I don’t. My vision is fine. What I’m really here to discuss is typhoid fever.”
Dr. Mallory blinked. “Typhoid fever? What symptoms are you having?”
Annie hurried to clear the air. “No, not me. I’m not sick. I wanted to ask you about typhoid fever, how it’s contracted, if there are any cases currently here in Lancaster, and what you know about local dairies and ice cream at a nearby drugstore.”
Dr. Mallory stared at her, and Annie bit her lower lip. “Can I sit?” she asked, pointing to a wood-backed chair at the side of his desk.
“Yes, of course!” He scooped several books off the chair. “Then you are well? You just want information?”
“Yes, that’s right,” Annie said, sitting down.
The doctor sat down in an oak desk chair, the likes of which would fetch a pretty price in an antique store. He rotated to face her. “What’s this about, Miss Warner?”
Annie warmed under his sympathetic gaze, so much so that she wondered if she could just hop into his lap and sob her story out on his shoulder. He wasn’t Danny, but he would have to do. She drew in a deep breath.
“Annie, please,” she said, stalling while she tried to form her words.
“Annie then.” He pressed his fingertips together and tilted the chair back, as if prepared to wait.
