Time Tantrums (12 page)

Mariah put the bottle back where she’d found it then inspected the others. With her curiosity satisfied she opened the designated underwear drawer. Her mouth gaped at the contents, and she held up a scant piece of material by two fingers. She eyed the other items and sneered. How could this possibly be an undergarment? They looked nothing like her comfortable chemise. There were no camisoles or corsets, just bottoms and things she assumed were tops… and those didn’t look very comfortable. Only the bottoms even compared to a chemise. She held one up for closer inspection, trying to decide which, if any, to wear.

 
Well, I can’t possibly wear these. Part of them appears to be missing.

 
She dug through the entire pile before she finally found and selected the closest thing to plain, white cotton drawers. Turning her attention to the strange breast covers, she held one up against her chest to see how it looked.

 
Now all she had to do was figure out how to put it on. What she wouldn’t give for her comfortable, one-piece chemise. She'd even settle for her corset.

 
She fumbled with the contraption until she figured out how to hook it.

Since the accident, she’d been without undergarments. It seemed strange to wear something so confining. She inspected herself in the mirror, turning around to look from every angle, then touched her breasts and smiled at her reflection.
 
She didn't look so bad, although her chest was a bit bigger than she was used to, but….

She reluctantly donned the clothing David had selected and looked at her reflection again. Although the pants felt strange and the shapeless shirt had the word ‘NOW’ imprinted across the front, she had to agree with him—they were much more comfortable than the drafty hospital gown.

* * * *

Mariah walked through the house, looking at and touching the walls, the window coverings, and the fabric on the furniture. The flowers on the table looked real but she discovered they weren’t when she bent to smell them. She flexed the fake petals and clucked her tongue against her teeth.
“Seems nothing is real here.”

David appeared from the hallway. “What do you mean?”

“Fake flowers, see-through unmentionables, these things called tee-shirts.”
 
She yanked at the material and smiled. She bent down and splayed her fingers through the lush carpeting.
“Even rugs that cover every bit of the floor.
David, your home is perfect.”

 
“
Our
home,” he corrected.

Mariah shuddered and stood. She wrung her clasped hands. “No, this isn’t my home. You can’t make me be someone I’m not. I have a whole history in my head that doesn’t fit any place in this time period. I don’t know what’s true or not anymore, but I do know being Mariah Cassidy seems very right.”

David dropped into a big leather chair and peered up at her, despair in his eyes. “I’m trying not to rush you. I just keep praying you’ll remember who you are and where you’re from.” He leaned back and pushed against the arms—a footrest popped up.

Mariah gaped. “How did you do that?”

“Do what?”

“With the chair?”
She bent to look underneath.

 
“It’s called a recliner.” He chuckled and pushed the weight of his body against the chair back and stretched out even further.

Mariah furrowed her brow and shook her head. “Lordy, I couldn’t forget all these wondrous things.”
 
She crossed to the sofa and perched on its edge. “Is this going to do anything strange?”

David displayed perfectly straight teeth in a wide smile. “No, you’re safe. This is the only reclining piece of furniture we own.”

Mariah wanted to see more; in fact she wanted to see everything in this place David called her home. She sprang to her feet. “Would you mind if I looked through the rest of the house?”

He kicked himself back into a sitting position and stood.
“Of course not.
Let me show you around.”

David led her into a bright, cheery room. Her eyes widened as she took in all the strange sights.

 
This looks like a kitchen. That thing over there could be the stove. That’s definitely a basin of some sort.
Oh, but what’s that big boxy thing next to the stove? Where are the table and chairs?

“This is our kitchen,” he said, confirming her suspicions. “Come to think about it, this room probably won’t jog any memories for you.” He chuckled. “You don’t believe in spending much time in here. I don’t mean to hurt your feelings, but we both know you aren’t a very good cook.”

“Oh, is that so?” She squared her shoulders and held her head high. “I believe you’re wrong about that. What would you like me to prepare for you?”

 
“Yeah, right.”
David snickered. “Hmm, let’s see.” He grasped his chin, seeming to give her offer thought. “I know! I’ve been craving pot roast.”

“That’s easy enough. Do you have all the fixin’s?”

“Besides the meat, what else do you need?”

 
“Potatoes, carrots and onions.”
She ran the ingredients through her mind and rattled them off.
 
“Do you have those?”

“Carrots and onions in the refrigerator, potatoes under the counter, but I’ll have to run to the market to buy a roast. I tried to stock up on some things, but I guess I forgot meat. I’m not used to someone cooking around here.”

She didn’t understand what he found so amusing, but while he laughed, she scanned the kitchen.

W
hich of these things could be a refrigerator?

Luckily, David walked over and opened the door of the big box. Inside were shelves and drawers, and lots of containers. David bent over and slid out one of the drawers to retrieve the fresh vegetables.

Mariah craned her neck to see around him. “Oh, you meant the ice box. Goodness, this one even has a light inside.”
 
She viewed the contents and pointed. What’s that?”

David held six cans bound by see-through material. “It’s
Pepsi
... soda.” He tore one from its binding and thrust it behind his back. “Would you like one?”

“Yes, I believe I would. I’m thirsty.”
 
She surveyed the colorful container. “Does it taste good?”

He pulled his head out of the refrigerator, took the can and popped a piece of metal on top. “Here, have a taste.”

Mariah took the can and sniffed the contents. It had little smell. She tipped the can to her mouth and took a big gulp, then immediately pinched her nostrils together.
“How very strange.
Little bubbles tickled my nose and now I feel like they’re inside me. Is it supposed to feel like that?”

He grinned. “Yes, it’s called carbonation.”

She tipped the can again and took another drink. “Well, I certainly like carbon--”

Before she could finish the word, she belched loudly. She muffled a giggle and felt her cheeks warm. “Oh, I’m so sorry. Excuse me.”

“That’s a side effect. It happens to most of us.”
 
David’s eyes sparkled, making Mariah uncomfortable beneath his gaze.

She put the can down on the counter and turned her attention back to supper. “Well, show me where the pans are and I’ll get started. Where did you say you’re going to get the meat?”

“The supermarket a few blocks away.”

I’m not even going to ask if that’s a fancy word for the mercantile.

She worried about being left alone for the first time, but squared her shoulders in false bravery. “Please hurry back… and before you go, please show me where the knives are so I can cut up the vegetables.”

He pulled out a drawer full of different sizes of carving knives. “Here, take your pick.” Then, in rapid motion, he pointed out where things were located. “If you need bowls, they’re up in that cabinet. If you need dishes or glasses, they’re in that one and the pans are inside the doors next to the stove. I’ll be right back with the roast.”

As soon as the door closed behind him, Mariah roamed around the kitchen, opening doors and drawers. Her mind raced at the marvels that filled them. She fingered the intricate “M” etched into the drinking glasses, and jumped back in fright when the contraption hanging under the cabinet came to life when she pushed its handle.

 
Another question hung on her lips to ask when David returned, but now she needed to find a pot. She opened the cupboard he’d indicated.

 
Lordy, I’ve never seen so many pots and pans. How could a body use so many?

It took quite her awhile to decide which one to use.

She moved to the refrigerator and eyed it with apprehension. Then, taking a step back, she grasped the handle and gave it a tug. The door partially opened. Mariah peeked around it, expecting something to jump out at her. When she felt certain nothing would, she opened the door fully and rifled through the contents—milk, eggs, jelly,
jam
, a packet of ham slices. She slid the bottom drawers in and out, gaping at all the food.

 
Heavens, it’s like having a mercantile in your own home.

 
She opened the smaller door on top. Icy air escaped and caressed her cheeks when she took a step closer to peer inside. She touched one of a few wrapped packages—hard as a rock and very cold. She licked off the snow-like piece of ice clinging to her finger and closed the door. It seemed every gadget was more wonderful than the one before it. This all had to be a dream and she was bound to wake up and share a good laugh with Frank. She pinched herself and felt pain. “Okay, so it will take more than that to wake me. I’ll be patient.”
 

 
Mariah moved to the big basin, grasped the handle and moved it to the right. Immediately water poured out and sent a fine spray splashing upward. Although she’d had a similar experience at the hospital, with the glee of a child, she clapped her hands each time she turned it off, on, and off again. “
Imagine,
a cool, clean drink whenever you want.”
 

A lever-like device protruding from the wall caught her attention. She reached over and flipped it up. Immediately the basin growled at her. With a trembling hand, she pushed the lever back to its original position and stepped away. She quivered at the thought of touching anything else, stood in the middle of the room, and turned in a slow circle.

“Surely, the vegetables won’t grumble at me.”
 
She moved to the counter to prepare the ones she needed. While chewing her bottom lip, she prayed the basin didn’t growl at her again, and cautiously approached to clean the potatoes.

How can I possibly explain all of these things? Oh Frank, if only you could be here to see the wonder of this place… or dream.

Chapter Fifteen

Taylor lay curled atop the patchwork quilt and tried to make sense of things. She pulled her knees up and wrapped her arms around them, finding comfort in a fetal position. The sunset bathed the bedroom orange and yellow. Hours had passed since Frank dropped her off at the front porch and disappeared into the barn. Not wanting to face him, she sought shelter in the bedroom, but secretly hoped he’d come looking for her. The clock downstairs chimed to announce the half-hour and her head spun with a million thoughts.

 
Is this ever going to end? Am I really Mariah, and David is just a figment of my imagination?

Guilt tugged at her heart.

 
Why did I let Frank kiss me? Why did I want him to kiss me?

She heard footsteps coming up the stairs and waited to see if he knocked. Instead, the door across the hall opened then closed. Taylor took a deep breath, got up and lit the lamp. How she missed flipping a switch. She moved to the window and pushed the curtain aside. Only the sun’s tip was visible, and shadows of the barn stretched across the yard. Through the burlap covering the bunkhouse window across the way, Taylor watched shadows pass.

Her stomach rumbled
,
reminding her she hadn’t eaten in hours. She tiptoed to the door and opened it enough to peer out. Frank’s door remained closed so she sneaked down the stairs and, into the kitchen.

In the pantry, she smeared butters over a slice of bread and poured herself a glass of milk. She took a drink and shuddered. “It tastes horrible when it’s warm,” she muttered. “How in hell does anyone stand this stuff?”

She poured it back into the pitcher and popped the last bite of bread into her mouth.