As she began to read, Connie felt Victoria's presence.
5 November 1857
Mama and Papa gave me this new journal for my birthday. I know I will think of them both when I write in it.
5 November 1857
evening. I saw her again. Last week I thought she was a dream brought on by my misery. Mama once told me all sorts of strange things will happen when it was that time. But I did see her. This time I talked to her and she to me. She appears in a strange cloud and her voice comes from a great distance. She wore a thin dress the color of a sunflower that did not cover her limbs, it was more an undergarment than a dress, yet she wore no other. Her shoes were but straps that held a piece of leather to the bottoms of her feet. Her name is Kone Heart.
A shiver crept down Connie's spine. Her hands shook so hard she thought she would drop the small book. Resting it in her lap, she continued.
Are you wondering the same of me, Kone?
You spoke of reading my journal. I do not know how this could be. The first is safe where I have hidden it. It may be that in this same way you will read this journal, then I shall write it as a letter to you. I hope to see you again.
I hope to see you too, Victoria. Connie thought.
A quick knock at the adjoining door drew Connie away from the diary, and back to the cozy room.
"Come in, Brian,” she called out.
Carrying the small book with her, Connie went to the door as it opened. “I have something to show you."
* * * *
"What's wrong?” He looked around the room. Everything seemed in order, but Connie's cheeks were a bright pink, and her eyes sparkled with excitement. She'd been tripping again. “Has something happened?"
"No. When I talked to her, Victoria was angry that I would be reading her journal.” Connie went on without waiting for his comment. “She also mentioned that she had just received a new journal for her birthday."
"Don't tell me.” Brian reached for the small volume.
"Yes. It's the other journal, the new one. I found it yesterday, but I didn't know what it was. It was behind a loose stone in the fireplace. I put it away without looking at it when I went down for supper. I forgot about it until now."
"The other journal?” He repeated turning the book over. “It's really old."
Connie's voice quivered with emotion. “Read the first entries."
The small book was almost lost in Brian's hand. He studied it with interest.
"It's fragile,” she warned.
Brian gingerly worked the cover, carefully separating the yellowed pages. It really was old.
Connie rubbed her arms.
"This is spooky,” he said after reading the first page. It wasn't a fake. At least to his untrained eye, it wasn't. Since he decided to trust Connie, it had to be the real deal.
"I feel like I'm in a fun house. The whole world is topsy-turvy. The things I say when I'm with Victoria could change the things she does. What then? Do I wipe out half the future population by saying something that convinces her to become a nun? Or maybe, I talk her out of doing something that would cause her death, adding some insane strain to the already insane world? Do I have a right to do that?” Connie started trembling as the words gushed out. Saying them out loud was somehow worse than thinking them. “On one hand, I wish there was some way of stopping this ... but on the other, I can't wait to talk to her again."
Laying the book on the bed, Brian went to her shaking figure. “Stop it. Something is taking you to the past; you aren't just on a pleasure trip. There's a reason for it. What if there's something you have to do, and you aren't there to do it? That could also change things.” His voice was gentle but firm. “We can talk after dinner but right now I think you need to come away from the nineteenth century for a while. You need to talk to people from your own time."
Taking her hand, Brian led Connie from the room. “Besides, if we don't show up for dinner, the others will wonder what we're doing.” He tried to lighten her mood but found Connie was deep in thought. She allowed herself to be guided to the steps.
"What are they celebrating?” She paused on the stairs, her hand gripping the worn banister.
"Who?” Brian watched Connie tilt her head, listening.
She turned looking up at him. “You don't hear them, do you?"
He confirmed her assumption with a shake of his head.
"It's the past then.” Connie continued her slow descent.
[Back to Table of Contents]
Sixteen
The empty parlor appeared in front of them. Connie stopped inside the door. As her eyes darted around the room, Brian put his hands on her shoulders and whispered next to her ear. “Do you see anyone?"
"No,” she whispered back. “But I can hear them talking. Some men, they are celebrating something. I keep hearing the name ‘Evan'.” Connie's teeth started to chatter. “I'm cold. Let's get out of this room.” She moved quickly toward the dining room.
As he lingered in the parlor, Brian felt goose bums rise on his arms. Was it cold in the room? Or was he reacting to Connie? He followed her.
Taking a seat next to her, Brian watched as Connie warmed her hands on a cup of hot tea. They were alone for the moment.
"Are you all right? You look like you've been pulled through a keyhole."
"Thanks. I needed that.” The cup shook slightly as she put it to her lips.
"My God woman, you look like hell.” Joe's voice intruded on the couple. The Handleys filled glasses before going to the table.
Connie looked up at them. “That makes it almost unanimous.
"Joe! Men are so mean. She doesn't look that bad, just a little tired.” Tracey blushed
Brian smiled. I'll bet she wishes she could swallow her words.
The others laughed at Tracey's embarrassment.
Connie laughed with them. “It's been a rough day, but I'm all right. I promise to get a good night's sleep.
She tried to follow the conversation and banter during the meal, but Brian could see the strain behind her smile. He heard the hesitation in her laugh. Her mind must be on Victoria and the diary waiting to be read. Neither of them mentioned the book to the Handleys.
* * * *
Someone had drawn the heavy drapes in the parlor while they ate. The room was darker, and the air cooler as Brian and Connie walked through it and up the narrow stairs to the second floor. Tracey and Joe had gone out for a walk.
He waited in the hall as Connie opened her door. She stood holding the knob in her hand, her back straight. Words scrambled in his head. Words that he wanted—needed to say. He wanted to be with her, nearby, to help or comfort. Yet he was quiet.
She turned. “I'm going to read for a while."
"The diary?” As she nodded, Brian continued, “Do you want me to stay with you?"
"It's only two-thirty and a nice day, don't you want to get some pictures?"
"I have all week to work. Today is my day off.” Not wanting to pressure her, Brian tried to think of a compromise. “Tell you what, I have some writing to do, it will take about an hour or so. While I'm working we can leave the connecting doors open, just in case, and around four we can go out for some fresh air. What do you say?"
"Sounds like a plan.” Turning, Connie went into the room, closing the door softly.
His arms ached to hold her, to try to comfort her fears, to tell her everything was going to be all right. But there was more, he longed to feel the warmth of her body against his own, to taste her breath as they kissed, to smell the lingering scent of shampoo in her hair.
He'd never felt this way about anyone. It must be a macho thing, see a girl with a problem and suddenly he had all the answers. That morning he'd been trying to figure out if she was crazy or a con-artist, now ... Brian, old boy, you better keep a clear head. He closed the door to the hall, before going immediately to open the connecting door.
She stood on the other side of the bathroom. Neither of them spoke. Connie smiled bef
ore turning away.
Macho thing, hell, Brian released a held breath. I just want her. Have to be patient, don't rush her, she has enough on her mind right now. But patience was never one of his strong points and having Connie so near would make the wait even harder.
* * * *
With deliberate care Connie prepared for an afternoon of work, ignoring the invisible pull toward the room next door. She picked up the newly found journal. With the ever-present notepad and pen nearby, she got comfortable in the wing-backed chair. A frown furrowed her brow as she focused on the faded words. Settling into the pillows she began to read, Brian temporarily put in some remote closet of her brain.
10 November 1857
It is one of Maxi's chores to bring in wood for the fireplaces. Lacy's husband, Sam, makes sure the kitchen is supplied every morning. Today he helped Maxi fill the boxes in the downstairs rooms and bedrooms. I wondered at this, Sam has never helped with anything in our house, except if Lacy makes him. Sam has a lazy way about him. But I have discovered the secret of Maxi's charm. Sam has agreed to take him hunting. An adventure they both enjoy. I have never eaten stew more to my liking than the rabbit dish Lacy prepares. Sam tans the pelts. I have a muff made of those from fall a year ago. It was my birthday gift from Lacy and Sam. Kone, I wish you could know Maxi, Mama, and Papa and Lacy and Sam.
26 November 1857
A gentleman has asked to call on me. He is not the first, but he is the most worldly. Evan Brewster is a barrister and a friend of Papa's. He has many meals with our family and I see him in church and at socials, but he never approached except to show kindness as a family acquaintance. I thought he saw me as a child. I have hidden my own interest except to my good friend Annabelle Hastings. She in turn has teased me greatly and I her as she also harbors an interest in the barrister.
I will wear my Sunday dress and the green cloak and take the rabbit fur muff. We are going for a buggy ride.
What a fine figure he is. He is as tall as papa, my head barely reaches his chin, but thinner, I think. His hair is dark and he has mutton chops, trimmed short, that grow down the length of his face to his chin. He has no beard or mustache. I am glad that he does not cover his smile. It is a very nice smile. I hope my appearance will not shame him.
Connie closed her eyes against the building headache, after a few minutes she turned back to the journal. Why was the name “Evan” familiar?
30 November 1857
The air was cold and the ride bumpy, but I had great fun. Lacy made hot toddies for us when we returned. She stayed until Evan took his leave, as my father had instructed.
He kissed my hand. A thrill ran through me when he touched the lace of my glove. Even the smell of him makes me dizzy.
17 December 1857
Evan squires me to all the best places. We have seen traveling stage shows, and dined at a Judge's house. I have suffered their boring conversations on slavery; every man in my life seems to have an opinion. Why is this a question at all? The plantations need the labor to operate. Lacy and Sam are freemen, as are their children. How is slavery different? They must all work to live, free or slaves. Evan sees the freeing of the slaves as the downfall of the South and another sign of how the North interferes where they are not wanted.
28 December 1857
Evan has gone to Washington, I do miss him. He sends me letters and I answer them but they are sorry replacements for the touch of his hand and his presence at the diner table. Mama is concerned by my depression. Her own has disappeared since Evan's arrival. It is strange that she should worry about me when all these past months I have worried about her. She has taken over her duties as mistress of the house, cleaning and directing Lacy in the kitchen. She still will not go to the market, leaving that job to me.
We spend idle hours in the parlor or in her room reading, or sewing and talking.
9 January 1858
Evan arrives home tomorrow. Lacy will help me prepare the evening meal in his honor.
10 January 1858
He kissed me. My toes felt the thrill of it. He asked my permission to go to Papa for my hand in marriage. As it is expected of him, Evan has written to his father and received his blessing. Of course I agreed. He will ask after supper next Sunday.
17 January 1858
Papa gave his permission. The wedding will be in my sixteenth summer, a little more than two years from now. Lacy and Mama will help me prepare a chest of linens. Mama pledged the set of china she received on her betrothal. Papa promised a horse and a real buggy not the pony cart I now use. Maxi will make a chest of fine wood at his job with Mr. Carson, the cabinet and barrel maker. He is skilled at building things. I know it will be beautiful.
Before leaving Evan asked me to walk with him. Snow had started to fall again, only lightly this time. The air was cold, but his hands were warm as he touched my face. “You are beautiful. Before long you will be a woman. It will be hard to wait."
I agreed. “The wait will be hard for me also.” I told him. He smiled and kissed me gently. His lips a feather's touch on mine. I could taste the cigar he enjoyed so much and the brandy he shared with Papa. Even one year is a long time, but two? I pray they pass quickly.
2 February 1858
Much is happening. Mama and I are going to Richmond to meet Evan's family and friends at the end of May. Lacy will accompany us. Papa has promised that he and Maxi will join us before we return at the end of June. I have much to do in preparation. I am excited, but afraid too. What if they do not like me? Will Evan and I still marry? He has said as much, but he is kind and may be trying to spare my feelings.
25 April 1858
My fingers are stiff with the great amount of sewing. Mama too has been making new dresses for the trip, as well as putting a fancy edge to a linen tablecloth as a gift for our hostess. It is beautiful. Lacy is preparing a special basket of food to be eaten on the long train trip.
18 May 1858
We leave next week. All is prepared. I would be happy not to see another needle this summer, but alas, Mama and I will have to make new clothing for the beginning of my married life.
5 June 1858
Evan is an only child. His father owns a tobacco plantation ten miles south of Richmond. His parents, Henry and Elsie, are very kind to us. Lacy shares a room with one of the house slaves. Next weekend we are going into the city for two weeks. Accommodations have been arranged at a hotel. We will attend a play, an opera and several gatherings planned in Evan's and my honor.
20 June 1858
We returned to the plantation today. Mama and I await Papa and Maxi. Elizabeth Ann, Evan's cousin has proved an entertaining companion and a friend. Her family lives near the Brewster's and we have spent many hours riding or talking. She is fond of her cousin, and is happy that it is I who will marry Evan.
28 June 1858
Maxi and Papa arrived today only to say we must prepare for the return trip immediately. There is turmoil in the country and danger everywhere. John Brown has done murder and was hung, all in the name of freeing the slaves. A home militia will be formed to guard against the likes of another John Brown or, God protect us, an uprising among the negroes. We are prepared to depart in the morning.
After supper, the men retired to the den to smoke and talk over brandy. The ladies shared tea and cakes in the parlor. I found it hard to sit still and make small talk. I strain to hear the sound of his voice. We retired early. As I passed the den, I could hear the men talking. Papa spoke his opinion that slavery is not necessary. Negroes could be hired as workers at a decent price that would still allow a profit. “After all, he said, “there is expense in sheltering, feeding and clothing slaves."
Henry Brewster spoke loudly, saying that if he was to free his servants, it would be to set them loose in the streets, no better than stray dogs, to take care of themselves and probably to starve. While now they were fed and clothed, taken care of, as freemen they would die, being too dumb to know when to come in from the cold.
&
nbsp; The door opened, surprising me. It was Evan with Maxi close behind. “And what are you doing here, my girl."
"I was passing by on my way upstairs.” I blushed at being caught, but was pleased it was Evan who found me. We went to the parlor. Maxi excused himself and went into the evening for a walk before bed. He and Elizabeth Ann took quickly to each other. I wonder if she is waiting for him tonight.
Evan held me as never before, his arms pulling me close. I have never felt so safe, or so frightened. I could hardly breathe. Why was I afraid of Evan? He would never hurt me. His eyes narrowed and his face reddened as he gazed into my eyes. Evan pressed his parted lips to mine, gently pushing his tongue into my mouth. I pulled away, surprised. He released me mumbling words of apology. I stopped them with my finger on his lips. Leaning to him, I using my tongue as he had used his. His face darkened, I thought him angered by my brazen act. But he was only surprised. “Have you lied to me? You are not yet fifteen, but you have the instincts of a mature woman.” I could see that I pleased him. We sat together holding hands as we talked about our future and made plans. We had forgotten the reason for our early return to Fredericksburg.
Evan will have a house built for us. I will make a list of the household items we will need and he will provide them.
Connie smiled enjoying Victoria's excitement. Unable to make out many of the entries following the trip, she skimmed the pages. Some showed a line here and there to indicate that words had once filled them.
5 August 1858
Evan calls several times during the week and attends Sunday church and dinner every week, but we are never alone for more than a few minutes. I ache for him to hold me again as he did in Richmond.
21 September 1858
So much unrest. I hear bits and pieces of conversation coming from the parlor when the mayor or councilmen come to call on Papa. They bring news of killings and raids as near as Maryland and brutal murders in Kansas. Papa said some men think violence is the only answer to a question. If others do not agree with them, they become the enemy and must be silenced.
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