by Rodney Jones
“I didn’t mean for it to happen this way. I haven’t told them anything. I need to—”
I straightened at the sound of my uncle’s footsteps on the stairs, then helped Tess slide her chair in.
“John here tells me you have an interest in trains.”
Tess glanced up at me, a question in her eyes. I blinked.
She turned to my uncle. “Yeah, I like trains.”
He took his seat at the head of the table, to Tess’s right. “Well now, that’s good. Seems now we know a little something about you. You live near the tracks, then?”
“About a half-mile.”
My aunt walked in with a basket of rolls wrapped in a cloth. She set them in the center of the table, then took her seat opposite my uncle. While he was saying grace, I peeked at Tess. Her head was tipped a little forward, and her eyes were darting around the table, but stopped at mine.
“Amen.” My uncle raised his head.
Aunt Lil picked up the bowl of potatoes and held it toward Tess. “Now, hon, you have as much as you like. You must be starved.”
Tess took the bowl, thanked Aunt Lil, scooped out a dollop, and passed the dish on to my uncle. Once all the food went around, everyone began eating.
“Did Jacobson’s have everything Zach wanted?” my uncle asked.
“Yes, sir, they did. It’s all in the wagon yet.”
“What sort of door handles did you buy?”
“Ceramic, sir.”
“Like in the Tabors’ home?”
“Yes, sir.”
“I suspect Zach’ll be fine with that.”
“That fabric you brought home… they sure are making some unusual ones these days,” Aunt Lil said.
“Abigail picked it out, ma’am. I told her how pleased you were with the other material.”
She turned to Tess. “That little dress you had on—I’ve never seen the likes of that. I noticed the little tag on the inside says it was made in China. That must be very special. Have you had it a long while?”
Tess appeared confused. “I don’t remember.”
“You think you may have outgrown it just a bit?”
“Oh.”
“It certainly has kept well. It’s very pretty.”
“Thank you… ma’am.”
“You’re welcome to wear the one you’ve got on ’til we get you home.”
Tess glanced down at the dress hanging like a sack on her. I had an image in my mind of her coming down the mountain, a dress clinging wet to her body, her legs bare from the knees down. I felt a knot in my belly at the thought of Hugh ogling her.
I glanced toward Tess. I didn’t know if the little bit she ate was her usual, but the little I could manage certainly wasn’t mine. I picked at the food on my plate until it was pretty much gone, but then turned down the seconds my aunt offered. My uncle looked as though he was waiting for me to finish up before saying anything more, but then it came.
“John, you recall our conversation from earlier?”
I took a deep breath. “Yes, sir.” Of course, I had no idea what Tess had come to tell me, but I was certain she wasn’t gonna spill it there at the supper table. I hoped she could see I had no choice but to ask. I stalled. “Would you like some more pork, Tess?”
She shook her head.
“Another roll?”
“No, thank you.”
I peered into her eyes, trying to say something of it without actually speaking. “I understand…” I took another breath. “I understand you came here to tell me something?”
She nodded.
I swallowed. “Do you want to tell me?”
She turned to my uncle. “I’m sorry, Mr. Bartley—”
“Paulson. Bartley’s my wife’s maiden name. Mine’s Paulson.”
“Mr. Paulson… sir, I’m sorry, but I can’t tell anyone but John, and I have to tell him. It’s very important.”
My shoulders drew tight. Everyone seemed to stiffen. I took a quick glance toward my uncle, looking for signs of anger. I didn’t see any, just a blank stare.
“I’m a bit confused here, young lady. Just a while ago, John pretty much swore to me that he doesn’t know you in any way other than talking to you. You understand what I’m saying?”
Tess looked at me for a moment, but then drifted away as though she was gathering a reply. She turned back to my uncle. I was begging her in my mind, willing with all my might for her to say the right thing, knowing how easy it’d be, at such a moment as this, for her to say a Tess thing. It was no fault of hers; she just didn’t seem to understand right from wrong at times.
“Sir, what John told you is true.”
My uncle’s brow furrowed as he rubbed his chin.
My aunt said, “Tess, it just ain’t proper, secrets being passed around behind our backs like that. What could you possibly have to say to John that you can’t say in front of us?”
“I can assure you, ma’am, that it has nothing at all to do with John, or me, or anyone in particular. It’s not about that, not about people; it’s about a place. I really can’t explain it any more than that. I have to do it this way. I have to tell John… and then, he can tell you.”
Bam! Dishes rattled as my uncle’s palm slapped the table. “This is crazy.” He glared at Tess. “John can tell us—”
“Ed.”
My uncle turned to Aunt Lil. Whatever it was she had to say didn’t require words—a look was all. Silence stretched so thin, I braced myself as though something was about to break. I glanced at Tess. Her eyes were on the empty plate in front of her. Her hands, to either side of it, were shaking.
My uncle went on, his voice slow and low. “This makes no more sense than a bushel of mules.”
I heard Tess draw a breath. “I’m sorry, sir. I just can’t tell anyone but John.” She lowered her eyes. “I can’t.”
My uncle rubbed his brow like his head was bothering him. “You can’t.”
She shook her head. Her eyes were moist, and her chin crinkled.
He brought his hand down to his chin, gave his head a subtle shake, and cleared his throat. “Huh. Well, if that’s how it’s got to be done, then we’ll just have to do it that way.”
I let go of a sigh, which drew a glance from my uncle.
“Thank you, Mr. Paulson.”
“Lettin’ it go this way don’t necessarily make it right.”
Tess nodded. “Well… thank you… and you, too, Mrs. Paulson… for a lovely meal. Those were the best dinner rolls I’ve ever had.”
“Why, thank you, Tess. Glad you enjoyed them. Now, I didn’t prepare any dessert tonight, but there’s some oatmeal cookies left over from yesterday. Would anyone care for a cookie?”
My uncle pushed out his chair. “I think I’ll be turning in, Lil. It’s been some kind of a day, and I’d like to get an early start tomorrow… escortin’ our guest home.”
“And what about church?” Aunt Lil asked.
“I don’t think it’ll mean our souls if we miss a day.”
Tess said, “Sir, I don’t really need to be escorted. I’m very capable of getting myself home.”
“You being capable is not in question.”
“Sir, I could see her home,” I offered. “Then it’d be just me missing church.”
“It’d be you and this young lady,” my aunt said. “I can’t see as how that’s any better. Two young folk going off like that, unescorted, on the Lord’s day of all days. It ain’t right.”
Uncle Edwin stood. “Lil, if it’s the neighbors you’re concerned with…”
“Well, I think it’s fair to be.”
“This can wait ’til morning. Things might look different come sunrise. Now, if you’ll all excuse me.” He slid his chair in and headed for the stairs.
“Can I help you with these dishes, ma’am?” Tess said.
“John, why don’t you light the lamp in the parlor? I’ll get the dishes, and you can get whatever it is that needs said, said.” She turned to Tess. “Come in here
, hon, and get some of these cookies.”
I lit the lamp and took a seat in the armchair. A moment or two later, Tess walked in with a plate of cookies. I indicated the settee. She put the plate on the lamp table and then sat on the edge of the seat.
“I can’t believe I did this,” she whispered. “I can’t believe that I’m here. My God, your uncle… sir, ma’am… My knees were shaking all through dinner. And my dress. It was the longest one I had. I should’ve gone shopping. Maybe I should’ve worn pants, you think?”
“Tess, I don’t know that we have much time to chat.”
“Oh, yeah, right.” Her eyes turned to the lamp, her face aglow. “The other day, I was thinking about you, about how Greendale… how it is now, I mean, in my time. Well, I did some more research. It’s a curious thing. Apparently, Greendale was never legally incorporated. It was… it is officially a part of Weston. Did you know that?”
I shook my head. I had an urge to reach out and touch her cheek, perhaps to assure myself it was real.
“But there was a historian in the nineteenth… there is… she’s probably alive. Abby Hemenway. She grew up somewhere around here.”
“I know of some Hemenways, near Andover.”
“Andover, yeah, that’s it. She collected the histories of every community in Vermont and then compiled them into fourteen volumes, one for each county. Before they were published, there was a fire; all but one volume was rescued. That one, the one that didn’t survive, happened to be Windsor County.” She glanced toward the doorway and lowered her voice. “The only thing I could find about Greendale—and I searched—was in the University of Vermont’s historic archives. There was only one mention of Greendale, this Greendale. They don’t know for sure, but they think it may have burned, the whole community. Something happened in 1875.”
It took a moment to realize she was talking about the same Greendale and the same 1875 that we were sitting in. I whispered, “Burned?”
“That would explain what you saw here.”
“Wait.” A picture from the day I was at the ruins with Tess came to mind. It made even less sense than it did then. “If it was to burn, folks still have their land. Why wouldn’t they rebuild here on their land?”
“I don’t know. I couldn’t find anything.”
“Well, what happened? Were people killed?”
“I don’t know, John. I looked, but that’s really all I could find, just that there was a fire.”
“It didn’t say what day or month or how it happened?”
“No, just 1875.”
It sounded straight and simple enough, but my mind was stumbling. I was trying to find my balance. I needed a moment.
But Tess continued, “I thought if you knew, you might be able to convince people to leave. Maybe you could convince your aunt and uncle, or at least you could leave, for a while. At least be prepared.”
I shook my head.
“If you could convince everyone that you know certain things about the future, tell them you saw it in a dream, maybe.”
“What?”
“You know, like a psychic.”
“A what?”
“You’ve heard of people who can see into the future.”
“Yes, but they’re… well, don’t you think they’re just… quacks?”
“Maybe, but if you know about things that are definitely going to happen, and then they do…”
“Like what things?”
“I found this stuff on the internet.” She looked at the palm of her hand, then tapped it with her index finger. “Uh, today is the eighteenth?”
“The twenty-third.”
“August?”
“Yes.”
“Shit.” She slapped a hand over her mouth. Her eyes widened.
“She can’t hear you,” I whispered.
“It was the eighteenth when I left the house this morning. One of them has already happened. The Treaty of Saint Petersburg was ratified on the twenty-second.”
“The what?”
“A disagreement between Russia and Japan over some island.”
“I don’t think anyone would give two hoots about that in these parts.”
“Well, it’s too late for that, anyway. On the twenty-fourth, tomorrow, Matthew Webb will swim across the English Channel.”
“Swim across what?”
“The waterway between England and France.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s really difficult, I guess.”
“So?”
“He was the first person to ever do it.”
“Why would anyone dream about that? Who could possibly care?”
“Someone cared enough to put it in the history books.”
“You don’t know of anything a little more… important?”
“Well, on the twenty-fifth… there’s a hurricane, the Hurricane of 1875. It’ll come in at North Carolina, come up the coast, cause damage all the way into New Hampshire, and even damage the White House. Over four hundred people were… will be killed.”
“Four hundred?”
“That’s what I read.”
“My Lord, that’s an awful lot of people.”
“People will definitely hear about it. Don’t you think?”
“The twenty-fifth?”
“Yeah.”
“Two days. Could we maybe warn them?”
“Warn who, John? Who would believe you?”
It didn’t take much to realize Tess was right. Who’d believe a young gristmill apprentice from a village in Vermont that no one’s ever heard of? How could I convince anyone? The twenty-fifth. If I went, I’d be arriving there just in time to be one of those four hundred.
Tess leaned forward. “A lot of bad things are going to happen. Believe me. I thought about it—a lot. What if I could change something? It scared me. But this… this fire, it’s different. You showed up at my door. Maybe that shouldn’t have happened, but it did. And then I learned of the fire. I just couldn’t stand the idea of you…” Her fingers twiddled about. Her eyes were on her hands, but her mind was obviously elsewhere. “I don’t know if doing this is right or not.”
“How could it possibly be wrong?”
“Interfering with fate? Destiny? I don’t know.” She shook her head. “I did it, though.”
“It’s all right, Tess. I’m sure it is.”
We heard my aunt’s footsteps and stayed quiet. “John, I hope you’re done with your business here. I believe it’s time we all got to bed.” She stood in the doorway, a folded quilt in her arms.
“Yes, ma’am.”
She laid the quilt on the end of the settee, then turned and left.
“I can’t believe I did this, John. I can’t believe I’m actually here.”
I nodded. “Yeah.”
“Eighteen seventy-five.” Her eyes moved all about the parlor. “I can’t believe it.”
“Is it about what you expected?”
“No, not really.”
“Tess…”
She turned. “Your aunt.”
“She’s really a patient woman, but given the circumstances…”
“I don’t want to test her.” She stood, looking anxious.
“You need anything?”
“Where’s the bathroom?”
It took me a moment to realize what she was asking. “There ain’t one, Tess. An outhouse out back is all.”
“Oh.”
chapter fifteen
I AWOKE BEFORE DAWN WITH A dream of a great storm fresh in my mind. In the dream, I was standing on a beach, staring out over the ocean at an immense wave. I was transfixed by the sight, knowing escape was impossible and aware that I was living my last moment. I stood and watched that wall of water tower fifty feet above my head, silently break along its height, curling like a claw poised to snag its prey. And then, accepting my fate, like one accepting the coming of night, I awoke.
I lay there awhile, thinking about all those people whose lives were about to end. Was I a
ll right with their last moments? I didn’t know what to feel; I wasn’t entirely convinced. Same as that fire business. Greendale catching fire? Who would believe me if I were to tell them I saw it in a dream? I knew I wouldn’t. And Zach, all excited about his house, the raising set for the end of the following week. Would I have any chance of convincing him to wait? And if I could, what then? I mean, if the fire was something destined to happen, would I be acting counter to God’s will?
I wasn’t getting any closer to understanding it or believing it. The whole village burning? All six homes? All at once? But was that what Tess had said? No, she’d said, “may have.” She said no one knew for sure. Maybe it won’t be fire. Maybe something else will bring it down, something in the future.
When Pa had died, Ma was told it happened in a battle at Shepherdstown, but J.W. caught wind of a rumor that Pa was killed a few days before the fighting even started. That bothered my brother to no end. He wrote letters of inquiry, but never got anything back. So he went to some of the families of the other men in my pa’s regiment, but he came home still unsatisfied. My ma later told us that some things were just not meant to be known, and the sooner we accepted that, the better off we’d be.
I heard a stirring from my aunt and uncle’s bedroom above me. I got up and folded the quilt, then made a trip to the outhouse. As I came out, my uncle was standing there. I said, “Mornin’.” He just nodded and stepped in behind me.
Soon after, my aunt was up, standing over a cast iron pot of bubbling-hot oatmeal. “I believe our guest was likely spent last night. That’d be quite the walk, even on a nice day.”
“Should I go and wake her, ma’am?”
“I know Ed’s wanting to get a move on. Why don’t you just tap on the door, let her know breakfast is on? And don’t be a dawdling up there.”
I climbed the stairs, then stepped up to my bedroom door and gave it a light rap. “Tess?”
“Just a moment.”
The door opened a crack, and she peeked out, then opened it the rest of the way. Her hair was all a scatter, her eyes puffy from sleep. She had a crease across her cheek from a wrinkle in the pillow. I couldn’t have imagined anything more beautiful.