For All My Relations: A Time Travel Story (Book One)

by Bess McBride

  Annie’s throat closed over, and all she could do was shake her head.

  “Why would you say Teddie’s name?”

  “Because the little boy was named Ted! Because I’m worried about you, about your family!”

  “Well, don’t, Annie! Now, you have cost me my druggist! Mr. Goodie won’t have me back in his shop.”

  “I’m so sorry, Belinda!” Annie cried out. “What can I do to make it right? I should go apologize. I know I should. Would that help?”

  “I’m angry with Mr. Goodie right now, so no, I don’t think there is anything you can do...but stop talking about this! I am so sorry your grandmother died of typhoid fever, I truly am, but I’m not going to, and Teddie isn’t going to! Stop trying to frighten us!”

  Belinda’s tone was final. Annie had run out of opportunities to persuade her or her family that they would fall ill from eating ice cream somehow, somewhere, sometime.

  “I’m sorry,” was all Annie could say. Tears filled her eyes, but she blinked them back.

  Belinda must have seen them. She linked her hand through Annie’s arm once again. “Yes, I believe you truly are. Can we not speak of this again?” Belinda started walking, and hopefully missing Annie’s refusal to acknowledge her request.

  “Tell me about your mother, Annie.” Belinda was obviously intent on changing the subject, but the topic of Annie’s parents always stressed her out.

  “Nothing much to tell,” she demurred. “She died when I was twenty.”

  Belinda paused and turned to her. “I’m so sorry, Annie. How awful! Was she ill?” She resumed walking, her hand still linked in Annie’s arm.

  “Yes,” Annie said.

  Belinda stopped again. “Not typhoid. Please don’t say that she died of typhoid fever as well?”

  “Oh, no, no. She died of liver cancer at fifty-six.”

  Belinda shook her head and made a sympathetic face. “Liver cancer. How terrible.”

  Restless as always when discussing her parents, Annie started moving, almost pulling Belinda with her.

  “Yes,” she said flatly.

  “How old were you?”

  “Twenty.”

  Belinda tsked. “Too young. Both of you.”

  Annie heard Belinda’s ironic words. “Then you know why I worry about early death.”

  Belinda’s lips tightened. “We agreed not to discuss that anymore, Annie. I appreciate your concern, I truly do, but I’m well and my family is well. We would have heard if there was an outbreak of typhoid.”

  Unless you’re the first ones to get it from that batch of ice cream. Annie kept the words to herself.

  “But yes, I do understand why you worry,” Belinda conceded. “Was she ill for long? Did you care for her?”

  Annie swallowed hard. “No, not for long. Yes, I cared for her as best I could, but she was in the hospital toward the end. She was miserable there. Couldn’t drink. She was fond of drinking, that’s for sure.”

  Annie had said more than she wanted to.

  “Oh dear,” Belinda murmured. “Do you think that contributed to her demise?”

  Annie nodded. “According to the doctors, yes.”

  “Did you have any brothers or sisters?”

  Annie gritted her teeth. To recap her entire family in one conversation was never easy. Life had been hard on them, as it would be on Belinda and her family. “My sister died when I was fifteen in an accident.”

  “How terrible, Annie,” Belinda said mournfully.

  Annie cleared her throat. “I don’t usually talk about all of that.”

  “I can certainly understand why. I hope you see us as your extended family.”

  Annie fought for control of her emotions, noting with relief that they had turned onto Belinda’s street.

  “Look, we’re almost back.” Belinda tucked Annie’s arm tightly against her side but said no more.

  They reached the house and went inside. After greeting the children playing on the parlor floor under the supervision of their sisters, Belinda set down her basket and removed her outer garments, hanging them on the hook. She took Annie’s hat and coat and hung those up as well before heading for the kitchen. Annie followed restlessly.

  “Can I help you with anything?” Annie asked. Having accomplished nothing in the way of saving her second great-grandmother’s life, Annie felt a growing desperation to brainstorm possible outcomes. She didn’t think she had been “sent back in time” or “fallen through time” to do nothing more than lollygag around the house getting to know her ancestors. If so, everyone would have had a portal to run back through time and say “hey” or even “what were you thinking?” depending on particular circumstances.

  “No, thank you, Annie, not just yet. Maybe in about half an hour. Why don’t you visit with the children in the parlor? If you can stand the noise.”

  Annie nodded. Unsure of what to do for the moment regarding typhoid fever, ice cream, time travel, saving lives and Danny’s probable panic, she returned to the parlor and sat down on the sofa to watch the kids play. Claire held Robbie on her lap while he shook a baby rattle. Cathy amused little Charlie with a sock puppet. Harry and Teddie played with toy soldiers.

  Annie studied them all, but mostly Teddie. Already a petite little boy, he really didn’t look as if he could withstand a bout of flu, much less typhoid. She sighed heavily as she watched him play.

  “What’s wrong, Cousin Annie?” Claire asked.

  Annie startled. She hadn’t been aware that Claire was watching her.

  “Oh, nothing,” she said with a smile.

  “I hope I didn’t keep you awake last night,” Claire said.

  “Not at all. You are very cozy to sleep next to.” Annie continued to marvel that she was talking to her great-grandmother as a child. Once again, Annie remembered Claire would be a wife in three years and a mother in four.

  “Thank you!” Claire’s cheeks turned pink.

  Annie smiled.

  “Could you hold Robbie while I go to the bathroom?” Claire asked.

  “Me?” Annie asked. She had never even babysat in her time. She had no experience with infants, or small children for that matter.

  “Do you mind? I won’t be a minute.” Claire rose, holding the baby.

  From her tap-dancing maneuvers, Annie deduced she really needed to go. “Okay,” she said, letting Claire drop Robbie into her lap. To Annie’s dismay, Robbie’s face puckered, but Claire hurried away up the stairs.

  “Hello, buddy,” Annie said, bouncing her knees for all she was worth. Thank goodness Robbie’s expression changed to one of glee. He laughed and hit her on the chin with his rattle.

  “Ouch!” she said playfully.

  “Ouch!” he responded, bopping her again.

  Annie wondered how long before he split her lip. She ducked her head away, though that just incited him to try harder to bop her.

  “Robbie, stop that this minute,” Belinda said, entering the parlor. “It’s time for lunch, children. Cathy, could you get the plates? Where is your sister?”

  “In the bathroom.” A general scramble of children ensued.

  “All right,” Belinda said. She reached for Robbie. “Here, I’ll take him.”

  Annie stood. “What can I do to help?”

  “I’ve made sandwiches. Could you take those into the dining room? I’ll get Robbie his bottle.”

  Annie followed Belinda into the kitchen, and for the next forty-five minutes was immersed in the chaos of feeding five children lunch. Robbie had his bottle and a snack, and the rest of them, adults included, ate peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Annie remembered that her grandmother Evie loved peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Claire must have passed that love down to her daughter.

  After lunch Claire and Cathy were tasked with washing dishes, while Belinda took Robbie and Charlie upstairs for naps. Harry orchestrated an outing for himself and Teddie in the fenced backyard, where the girls promised to join them when they were done. Something in th
e transaction convinced Annie that the boys, rather than sharing dishwashing responsibilities, were more welcome outdoors than indoors without supervision.

  Annie walked over to one of two parlor windows and looked out onto the street. An old-fashioned black Model T–style panel truck rolled down the road, stopping just across the street. A man stepped down carrying a wooden case of glass bottles filled with white liquid. The writing on the truck read “Swenson’s Dairy Farm.”

  Annie caught her breath. Was the delivery man coming to the Sellers’ house? Probably in his mid-forties, he wore a driving cap, short dark coat and galoshes. She watched anxiously as he dropped bottles of milk off at the houses on the opposite side of the street.

  Was that the place where the ice cream came from? Was that the dairy farm?

  Annie heard Belinda’s steps on the staircase, and she turned around.

  “What are you looking at?” Belinda asked.

  “Nothing,” she said guiltily.

  Belinda looked out the window and grimaced. “We’re not getting a milk delivery today.” She turned to Annie.

  “I didn’t say anything,” Annie said. She remembered the name now.

  “You didn’t have to.”

  “You said you get your ice cream at Goodie’s Drugstore, right?”

  “Well, I did, but I won’t be getting it there for a while now, will I? Not until Mr. Goodie calms down.”

  Annie sighed. “Do you eat it there? Or bring it home? Is there anywhere else you might eat ice cream? When did you last have ice cream at Goodie’s?”

  Belinda pressed her lips together, as if she didn’t want to talk about it anymore. Annie wasn’t surprised. Not then. She was surprised a moment later when Belinda spoke.

  “I took the children to Goodie’s Drugstore two weeks ago to get ice cream. It was our third time eating ice cream there. We are all fine. No one is sick. I would know. I’m their mother.”

  “But ice cream can be contaminated at any time, any moment, really. By unwashed hands, I think.”

  “Unwashed hands?” Belinda repeated.

  “Yes, that’s how the bacteria gets into the food supplies, or so I’ve been told.”

  Belinda shuddered. “I had no idea.” She sighed. “Annie, I cannot deny my children ice cream for the rest of their childhoods. Jerry Goodie appears to be a clean person.”

  “Someone isn’t, maybe at the dairy farm then, if that’s where the ice cream comes from.”

  “Annie, please don’t continue on about this,” Belinda said.

  “You are only speaking from your own grief.”

  Annie pressed her lips together. She had the name of the dairy farm. She had to follow up there, to get proof, to get the ice cream tested. How to get there though?

  “What are your plans regarding your family history studies?” Belinda asked.

  “Family history,” Annie repeated, stalling for time. “I thought I might visit a cemetery or two, maybe a library?”

  Belinda drew her brows together. “We don’t have any family buried here in Lancaster though. As I mentioned, Monroe and I just moved up here. What information do they have in libraries?”

  “Goodness!” Annie exclaimed. “That’s right. No family history here then! I should probably go to Baltimore.”

  “I think that is a good idea! My parents are from Baltimore, though both emigrated from Germany.”

  “I should do that,” Annie repeated again needlessly. Of course, she wasn’t going to Baltimore.

  “I think I will begin dinner so I don’t have to rush,” Belinda said. “I’m baking an apple pie for dessert.”

  “That sounds lovely. Where is the local library? Could I walk there?”

  “It’s about a half-hour walk. I could go there with you tomorrow morning if you like.”

  Annie smiled through her teeth. She wasn’t going to the library, not at all.

  “I really wanted to get a head start today, and I could use a walk. I don’t mind walking a half hour.”

  Belinda nodded and gave her directions. Annie stared at her, not memorizing them but letting her brain throw ideas around in a bit of a frenzy.

  “Thank you,” she said when Belinda stopped talking. “What time is it?”

  “Almost two o’clock,” Belinda said, noting a clock on the parlor wall.

  “I didn’t see that,” Annie exclaimed. “I’ll just get my outer gear and hurry off to the library.”

  “Of course. Would you like me to send Claire to accompany you? I’m sure she wouldn’t mind.”

  Chapter Seven

  “I wouldn’t want to trouble her,” Annie said hastily. “I’m sure this will be boring. It usually is.” She planned to head out to the dairy farm, though she had no idea how to get there. Maybe some sort of taxi-like vehicle could take her?

  “All right,” Belinda said. “Dinner will be at five thirty, as soon as Monroe gets home. Will you be able to return by then?”

  Annie nodded. She didn’t carry a watch. She had no money. She wasn’t sure where she was going. She hoped she would return by five thirty. She had to do something, anything.

  “Do be careful,” Belinda said and returned to the kitchen.

  Annie donned her loaned hat and overcoat, stabbing her scalp with her hatpin until she readjusted it. She left the house and moved out of view of the parlor windows.

  Once clear, she paused and surveyed the street to the left and right. In the distance she saw a trolley moving away. It didn’t matter. She doubted it was free. A black car, another Model T variation, approached from the opposite end of the street, driving slowly. She stared at it, contemplating hitchhiking. The idea seemed farfetched.

  Hello? Can you drive me out to Swenson’s Dairy Farm? And wait for me to notify them that they have a bacteria in their milk or ice cream? Or that one, if not more, of their employees are diseased and contagious? Though I have no proof? I just know somewhere, sometime, someone’s ice cream is tainted with typhoid. And then could you drive me back?

  The car passed her and kept going. An unexpected image kept popping into her head. Dr. Mallory’s face. She looked down at the concrete sidewalk, trying to understand what her brain was suggesting.

  Go to Dr. Mallory and ask him to drive her out to the dairy farm? Hadn’t he already said he would not do that? No, he had said he wouldn’t report the possibility of typhoid at any business without proof. That was not the same as driving her out to the dairy farm. Who else could she ask? She didn’t think Monroe had a car, nor could she possibly ask to borrow it.

  She hurried down the road and around the corner, reaching Dr. Mallory’s office quickly. Upon stepping inside, she noticed with relief that he had no patients waiting. She rang the bell and waited, lacing and relacing her fingers as she thought about her words.

  Dr. Mallory came out of his office and stopped short when he saw her. “Miss Warner! Annie! Are you ill? What can I do for you? Come into my office.”

  “Hello, Dr. Mallory,” she said, following him into the office.

  He shut the door behind them. “Do you need an examination, or do you have more questions? I only ask because I don’t know whether to direct you to the examining table or the chair.”

  “The chair,” Annie said, though she was too agitated to actually sit.

  Dr. Mallory sat down in his office chair, and she paced. He watched her patiently.

  “I was wondering if you would be willing to drive me out to Swenson’s Dairy Farm?”

  “Drive you out to Swenson’s Dairy Farm? Me?”

  Annie nodded. “Yes. Do you have a car?”

  “I do,” Dr. Mallory said. “Is this about your concerns over typhoid?”

  “Yes,” she said, finally dropping onto the chair. “I need to go out there to talk to them. That’s where Goodie’s ice cream comes from, isn’t it?”

  “Annie, we spoke about this earlier. You have no proof they have typhoid out there, nor do you have proof that the ice cream in Goodie’s is affected.”


  “It will be,” she said darkly, “if it’s not already.”

  He scrunched his eyebrows together and leaned forward in his chair, his hands on his elbows.

  “How can you know this, Annie? What makes you so certain? Do you know someone who has fallen ill? I would have heard about it. All the doctors in the city would have been informed of such an outbreak.”

  Annie shook her head and fixed him with a pleading look. “I can’t explain how I know. I just know.”

  “Annie, I truly don’t mind driving you out to the farm, but I don’t know what you hope to discover. Detecting the Salmonella typhi would require investigation by the public health department. I do not have the tools to sample the ice cream, nor would the farm allow me to do so. I could not request that dairy workers provide blood samples. Only the public health department could do that, and not without evidence of disease. I could only be a means of transportation. And should I drive you out there, what would you intend to do?”

  Annie dropped her head to stare at her clasped hands. She drew in a deep breath.

  “My great—” She stopped. “Belinda and Teddie are going to die of typhoid fever from tainted ice cream. Belinda will die on December 3. Teddie will die on December 17. Belinda will fall ill on November 20—at least that’s when a doctor states he will first diagnose her with typhoid fever. I presume Teddie’s infection will start at the same time. He will die of cerebromeningitis due to typhoid fever.”

  Annie, almost whispering, kept her head down at first. When time passed and Dr. Mallory didn’t say anything, she looked up. He stared at her with his mouth open.

  “I can’t tell you how I know. I just do.”

  He finally spoke.

  “It’s November 16.”

  She nodded. “I know.”

  “That is four days from now.”

  “I know, I know. Hence, my sense of urgency.”

  “The incubation period for typhoid fever is approximately six to thirty days, Annie. Death can occur two to three weeks after onset. If you believe that Belinda will die on December 3, then she is probably already infected...and Teddie, I presume. Perhaps all the children!”