Fade to Grey (7 page)

“You’ll need to fill us in on Chicago. It’s been so long since we’ve been,” Mr. Bradenton spoke.

“Yes, dear, and we’re overdue for a visit. I haven’t been feeling well and have been having some pains in my back. When I get better, I want to go and do some shopping.” Mrs. Bradenton nudged her husband with her elbow.

“Yes, I promised you.” He winked at Donna. “Matter of fact, I’m taking Elizabeth to the doctor today. We’re leaving in a little bit.”

Donna noticed the look in his eyes changed to a more concerned demeanor. He continued, “You’re welcome to come with us if you wish. But then a young person might not want to sit around the doctor’s office.”

Lilly reappeared with a large silver serving tray of toast, jellies, and butters. Rose brought up the rear with another tray holding a tea pot and three cups.

“I think I’ll sit it out. This place is so soothing after the hustle and bustle of the big city.”

“All our guests say that!”

They filled their plates with tea and butter and the delicious toppings. Mrs. Bradenton told Donna all the jellies and butters were made at the farm. Donna nodded her head silently in agreement. Though she had eaten breakfast with the maids, she had to admit the hot tea and toast were scrumptious. Maybe it was this country air.

“You do
so
look like someone we know from Chicago. Please fill us in on which relative you favor?” Mrs. Bradenton asked.

Donna felt a bit uncomfortable. They were asking questions she had no ready answer for. She squirmed in her seat trying to come up with a plausible answer.

Just then Mrs. Bradenton leaned forward with a look of pain on her pale face.

“Here, here, Dear.” Mr. Bradenton jumped up, almost spilling his breakfast tea. “Just stay put—I’ll have the maids bring a hot compress.” With this, he dashed down the hall.

“It’ll pass. It always does,” she managed through clenched teeth.

“I’m so sorry,” Donna said. “Is there anything I can do?”

“Here, sit and hold my hand until George gets back. Get my mind off my pains.”

Donna stood and went to comfort her relative. Her mental acrobatics were set aside while she tended to another ailing human being. She heard a clattering in the kitchen, as if people were rushing around fetching things.

“I didn’t used to be this way. It happened when we were riding horses. George and I were courting and we decided to go out for a ride. My horse was startled…” at this point she gasped.

“You don’t have to explain,” Donna said. “I get the picture.”

George Bradenton came rushing back down the hall with a bowl. Donna noticed he didn’t even have the maids do it, probably figuring he could do it faster himself. He sat the bowl down on the tray, taking out some hot towels. Then he folded up four or five of them into a sort of large pad and placed it behind his wife’s back.

“There, there, dear. This will help in a minute or two.” Elizabeth Bradenton closed her eyes as the warmth of the towels worked through her cotton dress.

“Right now, that’s what the doctor says to do. That, and take a good stiff dose of whiskey if the pain gets too unbearable.”

Donna nodded. She thought to what modern medicine could do, with physical therapy, spinal fusion, and if nothing else, pain patches and acetaminophen. Dosing oneself with whiskey seemed jolting to her, but on the other hand, what did modern drugs do but dull pains and destroy your liver?

Then as quickly as the pain hit her, Elizabeth Bradenton straightened up. “George, I think the hot towels worked.”

“Marvelous! If you feel up to it, we’ll head to the doctor.”

Lilly hovered in the library entrance.

“Is there anything I can do, Sir?”

“Go to the stable and tell Royce I need a wagon immediately. Have him harness up the team and bring it to the front entrance.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“We’ll take the smaller of the wagons. It’ll be faster than the hay wagon.”

Soon, Royce arrived with the team and helped Mr. Bradenton and the maids assist his wife into the wagon and arranged a lap robe over her. Donna thought she had recovered fairly fast for the severity of the spell that she’d had.

After they had driven off, she again had time on her hands. She thought this was a good time to work on her life story—a background resume, so to speak, if anyone asked about it. After all, she couldn’t go on with the vague introduction of being from Chicago. She could be a college student. Yes, that would be good! She could easily pull that off. No wait; she was a little old at twenty-eight, wasn’t she? Were there professional college students back then as in modern times?

Young men and women who attended college for ten years? And what colleges were open to women now? Were they only open to men? That might be a little risky using that approach. Could she pass for a governess or tutor? But would a woman from a wealthy family do that? She certainly wouldn’t need the money.

With her advanced age of twenty-eight, she would probably be considered a spinster in the family household. Yet she didn’t think that actually was a profession, though you could idle away your hours with visiting and stitching and painting. That was a possibility. But even better, she could be a writer! That was a suitable career for a young woman from Chicago. She would give that serious thought.

Selecting a heather colored wrap from the hallway coat rack, Donna thought it a fine time to take a walk around the property. She was curious as to what the place was like, the lay of the property and the buildings. With no one about, she could peek around and check things out in a leisurely manner.

She went to the kitchen to tell the maids where she was going. Though there was nothing she could imagine happening to her, she thought it best to let them at least know she would be outside in case they started looking for her. Taking a walk was a perfectly respectable thing for her to do and shouldn’t arouse any suspicions. Both of the young women were busy cleaning and cutting up vegetables. The sight of them peeling and washing made her feel certain they would be occupied in case she got caught up in her explorations and wanted to pry a bit deeper than might be considered normal for a guest. They appeared disinterested in her exercise and went back to their work bent over the large metal pans on the floor.

Pushing open the front door, she squinted into the bright fall sunshine. Since the house was built on a small hill, she saw a great deal of Fallow Field sprawled before her. She thought she would head to the western side of the property first, and continue circling around in a counterclockwise tack until she ended up back at the house. First she would go to where the flower gardens were—or where they were in 2010.

The path was fairly good. Someone had set in large flat fieldstones to give better footing and ease the discomfort of walking in dirt and mud. The flower garden was now a vegetable garden. Wilted cabbage stalks and twisted, blackened corn filled neat rows. Other root vegetables had been picked and the tops tossed. About a hundred feet from the garden patch was a large grape arbor. The vines were empty of fruit, but the curly brittle stems and thin leaves still hung on for dear life.

The path ran out and she walked across flattened grass. In the spot where she now stood, her Gran had kept an ornamental goldfish pond. Both of them used to love to feed the fish bits of mashed potatoes or even miniscule pieces of boiled eggs or crumbled hamburger. Now the place was traversed by a small stream, with a solid little rock building squatting on top of it. The miniature building, no more than five feet tall, was the size of a modern lawnmower shed, roughly ten or twelve feet square. Curious, she walked around it, unable to figure out what was inside. The windowless door was shut with a simple hook and eye latch and a large rock shoved against it. She grunted and moved the rock, and then unhooked the door to see what was inside. Peering into the semi-darkness, she was surprised to see the water running underneath the floor boards! A ditch was cut through the house and a wooden trough was set in the middle with crocks and baskets set into it! So this was the spring house Lilly mentioned! She had read about them, how people had placed perishables, mainly dairy products into them to keep them chilled until they could be used. People lucky enough to have a cold stream running through their properties had built-in natural refrigerators! Lifting the lid on the biggest crock, she found it was full of milk. A smaller crock held a large lump of yellow butter. Brown eggs filled a wire basket. A glass bottle had what appeared to be lemonade in it. Shelves lined the long side walls and they held a few baskets of potatoes and onions. There was even a tin dipper for drinking, hanging on a nail.

Backing out, she shut the door, hooked the latch, and moved the stone back in place. She figured out the stone was to keep out animals. The spring house would work fairly well in hot weather, but when it turned to winter, all you had to do was set your perishables outside the window ledge or in the cellar for cooling purposes.

Looking around, she saw she was still alone. All the important people were either in town or working in the house.

She didn’t have to cross the stream; there was nothing on the other side except an empty field and some fruit trees. She guessed that they must have been apple trees from the vinegar smell of rotting fruit on the ground. Continuing on her scouting mission, she headed to the barn. Walking parallel to fences, she toyed with the idea of hopping over for a shorter route. She stopped and leaned her arms against the top rail and almost convinced herself to give it a try. She placed her foot on the bottom rail and rested it there. She knew they had horses, of course, but didn’t know if they kept any bulls. The spring house had butter and milk, so the odds were great that they had a Guernsey or Holstein. Even goats were a possibility. So she had reservations on entering a pasture and getting charged by who-knows-what. Besides, the long skirts she was wearing would have been a hindrance in topping the rails.

Sighing, she pulled her foot back.

Walking along the fence, she did see some goats peek their heads around the corner of the barn. She didn’t see any with large horns, though, but still was glad she hesitated on her original idea.

As she approached the stables, she heard horses neighing. Though there were three pastures in close proximity, no horses were outside. She realized that Royce might not have had time to let them out due to the unexpected trip to Saint Joe with Mrs. Bradenton. She would have loved to have gone inside, but thought it best not to, since she was alone. Nothing might have been said, but she thought it best to be cautious.

After circling the stable, she headed over to the barn, her last stop. Royce said Lilly’s husband kept the cows and milked them, so perhaps he was around. Didn’t you have to milk cows twice a day? If so, they should already have had their morning session. While these thoughts went through her mind, he came around the corner with a milking bucket in one hand and a three-legged stool in the other. Both were startled to see the other.

“Good morning, ma’am!” he said.

“Good morning.” Donna felt a bit foolish, as though she had been caught where she shouldn’t have been. But she composed herself, and put on a friendly face.

“I was just out taking a walk while the Bradenton’s went to the doctor.”

The man didn’t appear the least bit surprised at this news.

Donna continued. “You must be Lilly’s husband.”

“Yes, I’m Edward. Glad to meet you.”

He shifted his weight from one foot to the other in an uneasy way, and Donna thought perhaps she was keeping him from his chores.

“If you don’t mind, I need to get this milk to the kitchen for the maids. They’re expecting it.”

“Well, it was nice meeting you,” she said cheerily.

“Yes, ma’am, same here.” He nodded his head a bit and set the stool down. Now that she had actually met someone, albeit unexpectedly, she thought it best to head back to the main house. If she had glanced at the windows on the bottom floor, she would have seen someone drawing back the curtains.

After she hung the cloak in the closet, she fetched a cup of tea and retreated to the library again. She would have at least another two hours to while away until everyone returned. Sipping and reading, she tried to keep her mind on the book. But every time she would start a new chapter, she was reminded she was adrift in time. The thought scared her and she fought vainly to keep the black fear at bay. How could she get back to 2010? Would she be able to do it on her own? Could someone else help her, and if so, who?

She was jarred back to reality by the sound of the maids’ voices when they opened the front door to help the Bradentons out of the wagon. Only an hour had passed after all, by the clock on the wall. They must have been watching out the window because Donna didn’t hear the wagon wheels. Curious as to the outcome of the doctors visit, she placed her book on the couch and went out with the rest of the staff.

Mr. Bradenton helped his wife down from her seat. She gingerly placed her feet on the stool that Lilly provided. Donna thought she had a good color to her cheeks, but she still appeared to be in some pain. Royce held the team’s head, steadying the bays. She stepped up at first to assist, but when the maids bustled forward to help, she stepped back. Between the maids and Mr. Bradenton, they led her back into the library. Royce threw out an iron weight to hold the team steady, and then flipped back some horse rugs in the back of the wagon. Putting his fingers to his lips, he gestured for Donna to step towards the wagon. She did and then he nodded towards the contents of the back. Donna saw four large brown traveling trunks. What on earth did Royce mean by showing her these?

She looked at him and he began whispering. “Your lost luggage.”

Donna didn’t know what to make of this development. Where had Royce come upon these and why was he helping her?

“Let’s get these in the house, shall we?” he said.

He flipped the first one out, setting it on its end. He did the same with the others, stacking them neatly by the door. Each time he bent down, his hair covered his eye patch and he had to brush it back with his hand. It made him look all the more intriguing. Donna could just imagine the muscles in his back expanding as he lifted the trunks. What a magnificent physique he must have!