Thoroughly Modern Amanda

by Susan Macatee

  Despite his aching head, Jack propped himself up against the headboard.

  “Forgive me for disturbing you.” The man set the lantern on the table beside Jack’s bed. “I’m Amanda’s father. I spoke to my wife and daughter, and they told me your story. You’d passed out by the time I arrived home, so my son and I carried you up here.” He gazed intently at Jack. “You look rather pale, son.”

  “My head’s throbbing.” Jack pressed his fingers against his temples. “This is your son’s room? How long have I been here?” He glanced around noting the furnishings in the lantern light. He sat on a narrow bed, with a small table, a dresser, and a small wardrobe against the wall opposite.

  “I’m afraid you’ve been in and out of it for days, son. I’ll have my wife bring up a cold compress and some headache power. I think you could do with some soup as well.”

  “Days?” Jack blinked a few times, trying to dispel the pain enough to see and converse. He needed to know just what the hell was going on.

  “I’ll leave the lantern.” The man turned toward the door.

  “No, wait,” Jack said.

  Montgomery turned back, frowning.

  “If you could give me some answers. I don’t know where I am or how I got here.”

  Montgomery raised his hand. “My wife will be more of a help to you in that regard than I. She came to me from a different place, too.”

  “What do you mean?” Jack’s pulse raced. “How did she get here?” He struggled to sit up straighter and drop his feet to the floor, but his limbs felt like a wrung out mop.

  “Please, sir, wait for my wife. She can explain this better than I. I’ll send her up right away.” The man stepped to the door and eased himself through, closing it behind him.

  Jack slipped to the edge of the bed to try to follow, but a wave of dizziness caused him to flop back onto the mattress.

  How the hell am I going to find my way back home?

  ****

  Amanda stepped into the kitchen. Her stepmother sat at the table conversing with the cook. Mrs. O’Leary was a stout, gray-haired Irish woman who her father had employed as a cook and housekeeper after the family had moved from Philadelphia. Amanda had only been ten years old when they’d come to Carver, but her earliest memories centered around her grandparents’ house in North Carolina before her father married Erin just after the war. She was only six at the time. Five years after the move to Philadelphia, they’d relocated to this small Pennsylvania town. Mrs. O’Leary was hired to help her mother out with the cooking and housework as well as the care of her baby brother, Billy.

  “Miss Amanda.” Mrs. O’Leary turned from the sink and propped a plump hand on her hip. “Tell me how it is you found the poor young man your ma’s told me about.”

  “I…ah…” Amanda met her stepmother’s warning gaze. “I was walking by the new house they’re building on Wendover Street. I heard a terrible crash and went in to investigate.”

  Erin bit her lip, but nodded.

  Amanda continued. “I found him lying on the floor unconscious, his head bleeding. I was able to revive him and wanted to get help, but he insisted I take him home.” She spread her hands. “But he couldn’t remember where he lived.”

  “Aye.” The cook nodded solemnly as she stirred eggs in a bowl. “A head injury could very well cause a man to forget many things.”

  “I told Mrs. O’Leary we thought to keep him here at least for a few days,” Erin said, “until he recovers from his injuries and regains his wits.”

  “A wise decision, ma’am.” The older woman clicked her tongue. “I wonder if he’s one of the Macmillan boys. They work construction around this part of town.”

  Erin shook her head. “I don’t believe so.” She shot Amanda a warning glance.

  The door creaked open. Billy stepped into the kitchen snatching one of the blueberry muffins Mrs. O’Leary had cooling on the sideboard.

  The cook swatted at him. “Mind your manners, young man.”

  “Billy…” Erin shook her head, but a small smile played about her lips.

  Amanda had seen that look before. Billy was Erin’s only natural child and over the years, she coddled the boy, much to her father’s consternation.

  Billy resembled their father with his dark hair and tall, lean build. Amanda suspected that was another reason her stepmother was so soft on her brother. Too soft for his own good, her father was fond of saying.

  “I’ve bacon and eggs for your breakfast, lad.” Mrs. O’Leary motioned to the pan on the stovetop.

  “Don’t have time,” Billy insisted. “Have to get to the bank early.” He popped the muffin in his mouth and slipped out the door.

  Amanda gathered her skirts and sat across the table from her stepmother. “He said his name is Jack Lawton.”

  Mrs. O’Leary shook her head. “Don’t recall anyone by that name.” She stepped to the table and served bacon and eggs on each plate. “Won’t the Mister be joining you for breakfast, ma’am?”

  Erin waved her hand. “If he graces us with his presence, he can serve himself. You go on and eat.”

  The woman smiled. “Don’t mind if I do.”

  Amanda grew up with her stepmother’s cavalier attitude regarding the help. Although her father paid Mrs. O’Leary’s salary, Erin insisted the woman sit down to meals with them. She also refused to eat in the formal dining room set off from the kitchen, unless they were entertaining guests.

  As a result, Amanda had always thought of the cook as a sort of older relation, calling her Auntie Ida when she was small.

  After a cordial breakfast, Mrs. O’Leary cleared the table and plopped a kettle on the stove to heat water for washing dishes. Amanda saw this as her opportunity.

  “Mother, before I leave for work, I’d like to have a word with you in the parlor.”

  Erin quirked a brow but nodded. With the cook occupied at the sink, she gathered her skirts and followed Amanda from the room.

  At the parlor door, Erin frowned. “Is there a problem, Amanda?”

  She nodded and opened the door to the empty room. She had to find out the truth about Jack and was sure Erin knew more than she admitted.

  Motioning her stepmother to take a seat on the settee, Amanda waited, tapping her foot.

  Erin sighed, eyeing her. “So, tell me what’s wrong.”

  “Where did Jack come from, Mother?” Amanda propped both hands on her hips.

  Erin spread her hands. “How would I know? From his clothing and the place you found him, he must be a workman. But I don’t understand why no one else was in the house at the time. He surely wouldn’t have been working alone.” She shook her head. “And he doesn’t seem to remember anything except his name.”

  Amanda bit her lip. “I don’t believe you, Mother. I heard you and Jack talking upstairs.”

  Erin’s eyes widened, but she said nothing.

  “He was saying something about the future. And he also uses those phrases peculiar only to you.”

  “Amanda, I told you those were only stories I made up to entertain you when you were a child.”

  “So I believed. But no longer. You have a connection with Jack.”

  “I never met the man before. I swear.” Erin raised her hand.

  The door creaked open, startling Amanda. Her father stood in the foyer.

  “Something wrong, Will?” Erin asked.

  Her father stepped into the room. “I was just upstairs with Jack. He needs attending to.”

  “I’ll go.” Erin stood. “There are breakfast leavings in the kitchen if you’re hungry.”

  He nodded. “I’ll get a quick bite, then I have to get to the bank.” He stepped forward and kissed Erin on the lips.

  Her stepmother’s face flushed. “See you tonight.”

  Her father pecked Amanda’s cheek, then stepped out, leaving the door ajar.

  Amanda grasped Erin’s arm. “I’ll see to Jack, Mother.”

  Erin’s brows rose. “Nonsense. You get yourself rea
dy for work. I’ll take care of Jack.”

  Amanda scowled. “But they can do without me for a half hour. You can get started on your new book.”

  Erin opened her mouth but hesitated. “I’ll have plenty of time to work after I take care of him.”

  Amanda huffed and left the room. She’d catch her father before he left for the bank but intended to see Jack and question him further.

  She found her father in the kitchen, sampling a slice of bacon. “I’ll be more than glad to heat up the leftover eggs for you, sir,” Mrs. O’Leary said.

  “I’m fine, Mrs. O’Leary.” When her father turned in Amanda’s direction, his dark brows rose. “I thought you’d be readying to leave for the paper.”

  “I wanted to speak to you first.”

  Both the cook and her father frowned.

  “I’ll finish up in here, sir, then be about my chores,” the cook said.

  “I take it Billy’s already left.”

  “That he has. He’s a bright and eager lad.” She wiped her hands on her apron. “I’d wager he’ll be earning more than you before long.”

  Her father winked. “Could be.”

  “Father…” Amanda grasped his wool clad arm. “If we could speak now.”

  “Yes.” He turned to face her.

  “Not here. Outside.”

  He shrugged. “If you wish.”

  Mrs. O’Leary continued cleaning up the kitchen, but Amanda was sure the woman had sharp hearing.

  “Good day, Mrs. O’Leary,” her father said in way of departure.

  “Good day to you, sir.”

  Amanda led her father to the door. The parlor doors were closed, and she didn’t see Erin, so assumed she’d gone upstairs to see to Jack.

  Her father stepped through the entry door and she followed, closing the door behind her. Amanda inhaled the fresh spring air as sunshine bathed her upturned face, promising a lovely day.

  “Is something wrong, Amanda? Are you having problems at the paper…or with Randolph?”

  “No, Father…I want to speak to you about Jack.”

  Her father shrugged. “I know as much, or maybe less, about him than you.”

  Amanda frowned. “I’m sorry, Father, but I believe Mother knows more than she’s saying. What has she said to you?”

  “She thinks his head injury is inhibiting his memory of where he lives and what he was doing before he was hurt. But she said he might remember in time. It’s the reason she wanted to take him in for now.”

  “I think there’s more to his story and Mother knows.”

  “Amanda, I have to get to the bank. If your Mother knows anything more, perhaps you should speak to her.”

  Amanda crossed her arms over her chest. “If she did know something, she wouldn’t tell me. She’d tell you.” She pinned her father with a glare.

  “Nonsense. You’re imagining things, stories your mother told you as a child.”

  Amanda sighed, knowing she’d get nothing from her father. She turned to step back into the house. At the door, she hesitated and glanced back to find her father frowning. “I’ll see you tonight, Amanda.”

  She nodded, then entered the foyer. Glancing at the staircase, she decided she should try to catch Jack and her stepmother in conversation.

  She lifted her skirts and ascended the stairs, being sure to keep her footsteps light. At the top of the staircase, she gazed down the hall. Light filtered into the hallway from Jack’s room. Erin stood in the open door holding a tray. Amanda ducked back until she was sure her stepmother had entered the room. Creeping toward the door, Amanda stopped at the edge of the half-open doorway. If Erin caught her, she could just say she was going to her own room.

  Voices drifted to her. Erin and Jack.

  Chapter Five

  Jack opened his eyes. Mrs. Montgomery hovered in the open doorway.

  “Jack?” She stepped into the room, carrying a tray. “How are you feeling?”

  He slid up on his elbows and fought off a slight wave of dizziness. He’d been lying on his back for days, according to Amanda’s father, but no one in this house would let him up, even to relieve himself.

  “Ah…” His hand slid to his head. A dull ache still bothered him, but otherwise, he felt a lot better than he had when they’d brought him here. “I think I’m feeling okay. I’d like to try to get up and walk around for a bit.”

  She nodded. “Good idea.” She propped her hands on her hips. “We’ll try getting you over to the chamber pot.”

  “Chamber pot?”

  “To relieve yourself,” she explained. A grin lighted her face. “It’s not like having a bathroom, but it’ll have to do. I don’t think you’d make it out to the privy in the backyard.”

  Jack ran a hand over his face. “I’d like to wash up too. How long has it been?”

  “Just a few days.” She grasped the sheet covering him. “Are you decent under there?”

  He glanced beneath the covers at the long nightshirt Erin had insisted he wear. “I don’t usually dress this formally for bed.”

  She laughed. “Sorry. But with my stepdaughter and Mrs. O’Leary seeing to your needs, it was necessary. Once you’re up and about, you can wear whatever you want in the privacy of this room.”

  “Well, truth be told, the clothes I was wearing when Amanda brought me here weren’t mine. Not sure how that happened.”

  Erin bit her lip. “Let’s see if we can get you over to the chamber pot, then we’ll talk. I know you have a lot of questions I might have answers to.”

  Jack nodded and pushed to a seated position in the bed.

  Erin yanked up the sheet, and he slid his legs to the floor.

  “Now, take it slow,” she advised. “I can’t have you collapsing on the floor.”

  He nodded. She stretched out her hands. He grasped hers and with her support, lifted himself to a standing position. His head swam, but after a moment, everything steadied.

  “I think I can do this,” he said.

  She held his arm and step by step led him to a screen in the corner. Glancing around the edge, he caught sight of a large ceramic pot with a lid.

  “You want me to go in there?” He turned to meet Erin’s gaze.

  She laughed again. “I’m sorry. Seems I’ve gotten used to the way of things over the years. But when I first got here, I was as lost as you.”

  She pulled a wooden chair over to him. “Hold on to this. I’ll give you privacy. Just holler if you need help.”

  His face heated, but he nodded. Once she was out of sight, he took care of business, then replaced the lid on the pot. When he stooped, dizziness threatened to send him sinking onto the chair, but he grasped the back and held on, until it passed.

  “I’m finished,” he called.

  Erin reappeared and glanced at the pot. “You didn’t have to replace the lid.”

  His cheeks burned with embarrassment. “I’m fine.”

  She nodded. “I’ll help you back to the bed. Maybe later, you can try walking a bit further.”

  He allowed her to lead him to the bed. He sat on the edge, not yet ready to lie down. He’d spent too much time flat on his back and wanted to sit up and talk to this woman.

  “You mentioned something about when you first got here.” He tilted his head and held her gaze.

  She fiddled with her skirts. “Well…I didn’t always live here…in this century, I mean.”

  Jack’s pulse raced. “So, you know where I’m from?”

  “Not exactly.”

  “What century is this?”

  “The nineteenth. The year is 1881.”

  “Shit!” Jack folded his arms across his knees. “Sorry.”

  “No need, Jack. I was as confused and startled when I first woke up here.” She leaned forward. “Tell me, do you remember what you were doing right before you woke up in the house?”

  “I was in the same house, but in my time. The house was old, dilapidated. It was scheduled to be demolished by the new owner.”
<
br />   “Why were you there?”

  He shook his head. “I wasn’t supposed to be there at all, but something about the house called to me. I couldn’t stand the thought of it being torn down. I wanted to restore it but didn’t have the cash to do it. I’d never have qualified for a loan, either.” His gaze sought hers. “Amanda’s photo was in the house.”

  Her red-gold brows rose. “Amanda?”

  “I’m sure it was her.” He glanced away. “If not, a woman who looked just like her.”

  Erin frowned.

  “Whose house is it anyway? It’s still under construction.”

  “Randolph Norwood, Amanda’s supervising editor at the newspaper where she works.” She pursed her lips. “He wants to court her. I think he has marriage in mind.”

  Jack’s heart sank. “Is he rich?”

  Erin smirked. “He’s well off, but…” She sighed.

  “What? Is he a major butthead or something?”

  “He’s not exactly the type of man I’d want for my stepdaughter.”

  “Why not?” Jack sat up straighter.

  “He’s too old-fashioned. I’m surprised he even hired her as a reporter. She’s the only woman working at the newspaper except for his secretary.”

  “So, I take it you don’t like this guy, much.”

  She grimaced. “I raised Amanda to be her own person. I don’t want her to end up married to a man who treats her like property. Men of this period can be so backward in their opinion of women.”

  A sudden wave of fatigue caused Jack’s head to droop.

  Erin leaned forward. “Are you feeling all right? Maybe you should lie down for a bit.”

  Jack shifted on the bed, leaning back on his elbows. Erin rose to lift his legs and adjust his pillows.

  “Thanks. I just felt really wiped all of a sudden.”

  Erin nodded. “You mustn’t take it too fast. I’ll bring you something to eat, then after you’ve taken in some food, we’ll try getting you up again. For now, I think you should rest.”

  “No, wait.” Jack’s hand shot out to stop her. He needed answers to more questions. “I still don’t understand why I woke up in those old-fashioned clothes.”

  She bit her lip. “I’m afraid the same thing happened to me.”