A Timely Concerto (10 page)

With those sweet words, her fears faded and she knew that not only was it possible, that it would happen and she would live the remainder of her life decades before she had been born.

Sharing the news that she planned to get married with her mother proved to be one of the hardest things that she had ever done. After Vinnie, now a firm believer in both Howard and time travel, headed home, Lillian steeled herself to make the necessary phone call. Although she knew that it would be difficult, she never expected it to be so tough or to hurt so very much.

“Mom, it’s Lillian,” she began with the basics.

“Hi, honey. Did you have a nice visit with your sister? She called a little awhile ago to say she’s on the way home.”

“Yes. Mom, I have something to tell you.”
“I know,” Sylvia cooed with delight. “Lavinia said that you are planning to get married! And, that she met your groom. Have you set a date yet? I have always thought that an autumn or even a Christmas wedding could be lovely.”

Damn Vinnie, she thought, tightening her jaw with anger. This was hard enough without Vinnie muddying the waters. Praying for patience, she cleared her throat to continue.

“Mom, we’re planning a very simple ceremony,” Lillian said through gritted teeth. “And there’s a little more than what Vinnie told you about my wedding.”

“And what is that? I hope you’re not pregnant.”

Trust Mom to think of that, as if she were a sixteen year old. Torn between amusement and annoyance, Lillian sought the right words to explain and did.

“No, no, nothing like that. Mom, here is the thing. I am going to marry Howard Speakman but to do that, I have to go back in time to 1904, before he died. And I will have to stay there, living out my life then instead of now.”

Her mother said nothing. She made no sound at all and the seconds ticked off one by one until more than a minute had passed.

“Mom?”

The silence was like the calm before a major storm.

“Lillian Ann Dorsey! I don’t think that is one bit amusing, not at all! How could you make a joke out of the ghost that terrorized me throughout my childhood and tell me that you are going to marry him! I think it is time for you to quit playing house and come home to your real life. You are becoming someone I don’t even know, Lillian.”

Hurt and outrage made her mother’s voice shrill, harsh in her ear. The tirade was no more than what she expected, probably no more than she deserved but the words still stung. She wanted to part on an even note, to reach some place of understanding before she said her last farewell, so she struggled.

“Mom, I’m sorry, I really am, if I have hurt your feelings but it’s not a joke. Ask Vinnie; she can tell you. She met Howard while she was here. I love him; he is very real even if he is a ghost and I have already been to 1904 once, by accident. But since it happened once, we believe it can happen again and so we’re preparing to go.”

Sylvia made an awful mewling sound as if a very large kitten needed milk. “If you’re not joking, Lillian, then you have some serious mental issues, MAJOR ones and you need help. Come home, come now and I am sure that Joe can recommend a good therapist. Maybe a few sessions with someone would help rid you of this delusion. Please, Lillian, now you terrify me. I’m worried.”

Tears threatened but she soldiered on with the task. “Mom, I am not crazy. I know it sounds insane and impossible but it is neither. I am happy. I want you to be happy for me. I am getting married, Mom, and I love Howard very much. Won’t you be glad for me?”

“Glad?” Sylvia’s voice snagged on the word and choked on a sob. “Glad that my oldest daughter has lost her mind and believes she is marrying a man who has been dead since the early 1900’s? Glad that you think you are going away where I will not see you anymore? Of course I’m not glad; I’m sad, sad, and scared.”

Blinking back tears and choking around a lump of ice that clogged her throat shut, Lillian shifted the phone from one ear to another.

“Mom, leaving behind my family is the one thing that I am sad about. That is the only regret I have but otherwise, I am happy, happier than I have ever been. I will miss you, Joe, and Vinnie all very, very much but I will think of you often. If I can, I will leave letters or a diary or something so you can know how our life is like, Howard’s and mine. Please, Mom, we are going soon, any day, please don’t give me anything to remember but this. Please don’t be as hard hearted as your father was when you were pregnant with me.”

She mopped her streaming eyes with a tissue and cringed, waiting for a response. Two full minutes later, she got one.

“That is an unfair comparison,” Sylvia’s voice still sounded strained but the strangled tears were gone. “Your outlandish nonsense is nothing like the reality of being unmarried and expecting a child. However, the last thing I want to be is as stiff necked as my father was. Therefore, although I cannot believe the insane things you told me, I will say congratulations. If you are getting married, whether it is to a ghost or to Count Dracula or to some local yokel, then I wish you well. I hope that you are as happy as you say that you are and that the happiness lasts. Don’t expect me to send a wedding gift or even come to the festivities but if and when you come to your senses, you – and your husband – are always welcome here.”

“Thank you,” she choked out the words. “Mom, if it was possible, I would want both you and Joe at my wedding, Vinnie too. You know that.”

“No, Lillian, I seem to know very little.” The cold tone wounded but Lillian preferred it to tears or open anger. “I know that you are my daughter and that I love you but I do not understand you, especially not now. I wish you well, Lily girl, I truly do.”

The old nickname from early childhood stabbed like a steak knife inserted into her chest. “I love you too, Mom, and I’m sorry that things are the way that they are. I wish that Howard could live now or that you could all go back with me. I know I can’t have both and it’s not that I love him more, but I do love him so very much.”

“I hope that – Howard – is worth such devotion. I need to go, Lillian. My emotions are on overload and I feel a migraine starting. I love you.”

“I love you too, Mom,” Lillian said, then put down her head, and bawled. Howard, who might have provided verbal comfort, was absent and so she consoled herself with half a Ghirardelli dark chocolate bar. Even that bittersweet rush of flavor did little to assuage her hurt feelings so she went for a walk, stalking around the quiet neighborhood and wondering it would look when she went back to 1904. Most of the present homes would not exist, she guessed. After two turns around the block in the humid morning, she went home. When she heard the lilting sound of the piano, her spirits lifted and she hurried, needing his presence, his nearness even if for now it was still ethereal.

Without preamble she said, “I talked with my mother.”

His fingers halted. “Did she give you her blessing?”

“I think so. She isn’t happy though.”

Howard sighed. “I am truly sorry, Lillian. If I could sway her, I would but she would pay no mind to me. She was a most stubborn child. I struggled not to frighten her but she refused to accept the fact that I might be benevolent. If it will help to wait, we can linger as long as you like.”

She smiled at the thought of her mother as a headstrong little girl. Mom hadn’t changed, not at all. “

She won’t change her mind so we can go as soon as you like. What else do we need to do?”

She could now dress, walk, and talk like a lady at the turn of the last century. Lillian could perform light housekeeping tasks with ease and was reconciled with the loss of modern amenities. The antibiotics were stored away and so were the few personal things she could take. She was ready and she could not think of a single missing detail so his answer surprised her.

“You must get rid of the modern trappings that might send you back to this time.” Howard said. “Oh, some things can stay but I think you had best toss away your potato chips, milk in the plastic jugs and such. That small telephone apparatus you use must go and so must your wristwatch.”

His theory seemed sound. After all, she recalled the scene where Christopher Reeves’ character jolted back to the present when he discovered a coin from his time in the movie,

Somewhere
In Time.
She didn’t want to experience that so she nodded.

“Good idea. I will take care of that today. What then?”

“Then in the morning you rise and believe that it is 1904, spring 1904. May, perhaps. You dress in proper clothing and come downstairs. If all goes well, I will be waiting for you with a cup of Shugie’s strong coffee in one hand.”

Every nerve tingled with anticipation as she imagined it. “And then, if it works, what happens?”

Eyes intense, he smiled. “It will work. I have no doubt about that. After breakfast, I will have Shugie’s Jim take you down to catch the early train to Kansas City. I will follow you on the next one and meet you at Union Station.”

Lillian swallowed around the lump that filled her throat. Going back to 1904 thrilled her and she was eager to do it so that she and Howard could be together. The one detail that made her palms sweat and her breath hard to draw was traveling alone to busy Union Station. Waiting for him alone in an unfamiliar time would be nerve wracking but she realized if she loved him enough to do this crazy thing, then she had to trust him enough to travel on the train.

“All right.” Her deep sigh exhaled some of the tension. “I can hardly wait, Howard.”

His smile soothed her fears. “Neither, dear Lillian, can I.”

There was much to do. She spent the morning packing up her things, all of them that were too modern and might be a problem should they transfer with her to 1904. The bulk of them she put back into her suitcases and those she put in the trunk of her car. Disposable things like perishable groceries, discarded make-up, and such ended up in trash bags, which she put out at the curb for city pickup. To get into the spirit of things, she dressed in one of her vintage outfits, right down to the undergarments that looked more like shorts than panties. Then she began packing one of the antique trunks with her “new” garments, leaving out the ladies' walking suit from Retro Rags. Howard deemed it suitable for travel. She also tucked the Keflex into the trunk; it had to travel back with her even if nothing else did.

Last, in the still June afternoon, she sat down and wrote a long letter to her mother and another to her sister. In both she expressed regret, love, and a plea for understanding. Writing out her emotions brought tears to her eyes and more than once, she paused to wipe away tears. By the time she finished both letters, stamped each one, and put them out on the mailbox to be picked up after she was gone, Lillian wanted nothing more than a long soak in the tub and to sleep.

“Howard?” Her voice echoed in the big rooms. She had not seen him since that morning and although she believed he would be there when she woke, Lillian felt afraid. The bath calmed her and she was weary enough after her bath to fall asleep, sleeping through the night without dreams.

Something about the light that poured into the room was different when she awakened and after a few groggy moments, Lillian realized what it was – the window coverings had changed. The drapes she remembered were gone and thin lace panels hung instead from each window. Her heart skipped beats as she sat up, looking around the room that had changed overnight. The bed was the same but the other furnishings were not and the wallpaper had darkened from soft beige to a rich Turkish red with flocking. From downstairs, she heard a woman’s voice rose in song and recognized Shugie’s husky velvet tones.

She was here; a thought so surprising that her hands flew to cover her mouth, an old gesture from her childhood. Outside this room, she realized that the house had reverted to its original glory and that beyond the windows the view was now different. If this was – and she had no doubt that it was – 1904, the remaining question was where Howard might be. He had promised to meet her with a cup of Shugie’s coffee but what if he wasn't here? Although the breeze that lifted the sheer lace curtains was soft and warm, Lillian felt cold. Doubt traveled down her back as a chill shuddered through her body. Until this moment, she had expected nothing save success but now, in the 1904 present, uncertainty crept past her guard. Was she here or had her imagination gone askew?

“Howard?” He did not answer but her voice sounded faint even to herself and mewling, like a weak kitten. If Howard was downstairs, he could not hear her through the thick walls anyway.
He said he would be waiting,
she thought. So all she had to do was find him.

That was enough to propel her out of bed and across the floor. Even preoccupied with finding Howard, Lillian noticed the heavy furniture that filled the room, matching pieces that complimented the massive bed. Her trunk lay where she had left it last night and for a moment, she wondered if she should stop long enough to dress. The nightgown, however, came to her ankles and was shapeless with sleeves that reached to her wrists. Dressing in one of the vintage outfits would take time and she had no patience – she had to know now if this crazy stunt had been a success or not.

Barefoot, she dashed through the wide hall and slowed as she reached the front staircase. If things had gone according to plan, Howard’s parents would be away at the World’s Fair but maybe she should not descend into the entry hall in her nightgown. Shugie’s clear voice echoed and she remembered the back staircase. Maybe Howard was in the kitchen with Shugie so to find out, Lillian crept with slow tread down the stairs so she could peek around the corner when she reached the first floor.

Shugie’s song continued and so did the sounds of a busy kitchen, the comforting clatter of silverware and pans. The sound of something sizzling in the pan joined the cacophony and the delicious smell of frying bacon made her stomach ache with hunger. As she reached the bottom, she could also smell coffee and biscuits. Distracted by the aromas, she failed to realize that Shugie’s song had stopped until the woman appeared at the foot of the stairs with a broom raised high like a baseball bat.

The broom began to swing at her with force and Lillian screamed, eyes shut, as she waited to be whacked hard but instead, the broom smacked against the wall as Shugie screeched even louder. The broom dropped to the bottom step and Shugie stared up at her, eyes wide.

“You ain’t no cat,” the woman said eyes narrowed as she studied Lillian’s attire. “I thought a darn old cat had got in here again and I was fixin’ to run it out with the broom. You’re just the pussy cat.”

Shock silenced Lillian. She had no idea that the use of “pussy” dated back so far and she realized, too late, what Shugie thought. Back home, as she had begun to think of her life and proper time, getting caught in pajamas at your boyfriend’s house wasn’t a major shocker. Here and now, however, it apparently was one and if she was here to stay, she should say something to defuse the tension.

“It isn’t what you think,” Lillian found her voice but it sounded funny, strained, and too low. “Please don’t think I’m wicked.”

Hands on her hips above the apron, Shugie glared.

“I don’t know what to think and that’s the truth. I sure thought Mister Howard was straight as an arrow but now I just don’t know, not at all. But, I know you’re fly and you got no business at all in this house. I think you had just better get out quick, before Mister Howard comes downstairs and I can just tell him that you’re gone.”

This was not the happy arrival in 1904 she had anticipated and Lillian pressed one hand against her rolling tummy, hoping she would not be sick. A mess on the backstairs was unlikely to make Shugie any happier and if things ever went well, she would be living here. She opened her mouth but before she could speak, Howard’s voice barked and the back screen door slammed hard.

“Shugie -that is enough.”

Lillian had never heard that tone in his voice and from the shock that paled Shugie’s face, neither had she. The broom clattered to the floor and Howard stepped around it with one hand extended.

“Lillian, dearest, is everything well?”

She reached for his hand like a lifeline and nodded. His large hand folded over hers with such solid security, the first familiar thing in a world suddenly foreign, so comforting that she burst into tears. Sobbing like a little lost child, Lillian walked into his open arms, seeking security and support. In his embrace, she felt both and although there was an underlying hints of the passion she felt before, for the moment she was content to feel his very real arms about her. His solid flesh beneath her reassured her that this would work and that the shift from one time to another had been worth the sacrifice.

He smelled of wind and fresh turned soil and fragrant wood smoke. A dark smear of earth grimed his otherwise immaculate chambray shirt and when she peeped downward at his hand, she saw that dirt crusted his fingernails. His presence and his reality eased her fears. Howard was alive now and so was she. Nothing else mattered, not for the moment.

When one of his hands stroked her hair, Lillian sighed with contentment. “Everything is fine now.”

“Good.” Howard released her but her skin tingled where he had touched her. He ran one finger from her forehead, over her nose, and touched her lips. “I’m glad you are here. Did you sleep well enough?”

Shugie cleared her throat, a deep rumble that sounded like a growl. With eyes fierce as a wildcat, she retrieved the fallen broom and glared at Howard.

“Mister Howard, I thought this was a decent house and that you were a decent man but I guess I was wrong. Your mamma and daddy are going to get their hearts broken with your carrying on. I never . . .”

“No,” Howard said, interrupting the flow of her tirade. “Shugie, I’m ashamed of you, thinking the worst. Your speculations are wrong. Miss Lillian and I are to be married. She spent the night here but I did not. I have been at the farm. You will not mistreat her or say such terrible things about my bride.”

Lillian had never seen someone’s mouth drop open from shock until now. Shugie stared and tried to speak but couldn’t for a few moments. Her lips opened and closed like a fledgling fed in the nest until she found voice.

“I’ll swan,” Shugie said, all harshness gone from her tone. “Mister Howard, can you forgive me for thinking bad things about you and your bride? I should know better than that.”

His smile could have melted butter as he answered his eyes on Lillian. “I promise to forget all about it. Are the biscuits burning?”

With a cry, Shugie rushed to tend the scorched biscuits; Howard put his arms around Lillian and kissed her, hidden in the back stairwell.

“You are a temptation, my dear,” he said when they surfaced for air. “Do get dressed before we shock anyone else.”

“But, Howard, …” She wanted to talk, to know how he had spent his time since he regained his life but he shook his head.

“We can talk over breakfast. Dress before you scandalize poor Shugie any more or one of the neighbor ladies drops by to borrow a cup of sugar.”

Upstairs, Lillian’s fingers fumbled as she buttoned herself into the navy blue walking skirt and donned the matching shirtwaist. Putting up her hair was more difficult than it had been when she practiced but she managed to roll the length into a knot and pin it into place with long hairpins. By the time she finished, Howard was calling up the stairs and she dashed down, careful of the unfamiliar shoes with hat in hand.

“Do I still have time for breakfast?” Her stomach wanted food and the new aromas from the kitchen covered up the slightly bitter smell of the burned biscuits.

“You do. Lillian, you look beautiful.”

His compliment increased her heart rate. “Thank you. Am I as pretty as a Gibson girl, Howard?”

He shook his head, smiling. “No, my dear, you put them all to shame.”

In the dining room, she drank strong, black coffee and munched on a crisp, perfect biscuit slathered with the sweetest butter she had ever eaten. A now grinning Shugie delivered a platter of bacon and Lillian took two slices, marveled at the thickness of each slice, then delighted in the full flavor. Between mouthfuls, she questioned Howard.

“Were you really at the farm all night?”

On his fourth slice of bacon, he nodded as he swallowed. “I was. As soon as I realized I was indeed here, then I rode out to the farm. I think I walked over every acre of the place and touched every tree. I have missed the farm, you know.”

She did. “Yes. I will miss you until you arrive in Kansas City. Should I wait at the station or go to the hotel?”

Spending time alone in 1904 within hours of her arrival scared Lillian and from the frown that creased Howard’s forehead, he was worried too.

“I’ve had a change of heart about that,” Howard said.

She choked on a piece of biscuit, her heart stopped and unable to breath.

“What ?” He surely still wanted to get married; he had just called her his bride to Shugie.

“After reflection, it does not seem wise to send you alone on the train to Kansas City even should I follow you. Too many things could happen to delay me and there you would be, alone and lost, out of your element at the railroad station. I don’t know what I was thinking, my dearest.”

“Aren’t we going to Kansas City then?”

“We have no need to visit the city, not when we can just wed within a few days and begin our life together. Will that do, my dear?”

Relief sent giddy joy racing through her nerves and she giggled. “It will, indeed, Howard. How will we marry here without gossip? Won’t people talk?”

Shugie and her broom were fresh in her mind; what Shugie thought might be a patch on what the respectable folk of a small town could think.

“I have given it much thought and I believe it will be fine.”

“Tell me.”

Howard did. His plan was simple. He would spirit Lillian out of town in the carriage, traveling to Joplin, the booming mine town to the north. She would take the afternoon train back to Neosho and he would meet her at the station. Miss Julia, a spinster and neighbor, would come to stay at the house as chaperone. A quiet wedding at the Methodist Church, possibly even at the parsonage would follow or they could wed here at the house. He would telegraph his parents to return for his wedding; their delight would overshadow any shock.

“What do you think, dear heart?” Howard asked, his face earnest, his eyes shining.

“I like it,” Lillian said. “And I love you.”

He chuckled. “I love you as well, Lillian. Let’s leave within the hour so we can return.”

“And be married in a few days.”

“Yes,” Howard replied, his eyes never leaving her face, his hand reaching out to touch hers. “As soon as my parents return, then we can be married.”

His plan sounded plausible, workable, and doable. “

“Then what are we waiting for?” Lillian asked.

“Not a thing,” Howard said, his smile a mirror of hers. He crooked his arm and offered to her. “Shall we?”
Therefore, they did.