The following morning dawned bright and clear with just a few clouds. She stayed where she lay, listening to her surroundings. They seemed sharper in comparison to the more familiar sounds of home. All the sounds she heard this morning seemed organic—the birds in the trees, the light breeze rustling the leaves, the rooster heralding a new day, the distant lowing of a cow. It wasn't that she had never heard them before but that, there wasn't the accompanying rumble of engines, hum of air conditioners, or other mechanical noises was absent.
At home, her alarm buzzed unannounced into her slumber. From that moment on, the days usually felt rushed. Hurry and shower, grab a bite, get to the office before the clock clicked a minute after the hour. Time in the twenty-first century waited for no one and every man hustled to meet the demands placed upon him.
In contrast, this morning, waking up to pleasant sounds, even if her bed seemed a little hard, the atmosphere relaxed her. It seemed that she didn't have a care in the world. This morning was the kind of relaxing vacation she'd yearned for.
The heavy door of the cabin squeaked softly, announcing the arrival of someone. "Morning my sweet." Albert's deep voice floated up the steps.
Trish imagined the morning embrace and sweet kiss between Albert and Lucinda and wondered if the day would ever come that she might enjoy a similar moment with the man of her dreams. She had never found the right guy that fit in with her heavy class load at law school. She had a difficult time dealing with her multiple failures to pass the bar and if she wasn't good enough at what she loved, how could she be good enough for a man to love? Her new job had at least gotten her through the courthouse doors, but even that wouldn't work out with her not showing up. Law and love, no matter how much she wanted both, would have to wait until she proved good enough…at least to herself.
Albert's voice rumbled with warmth from the rooms below. "Brought some ladylike things to replace that girl's getup. I ain't seen nothin' like it. She probably had little choice. Quinn describes a rather unsavory situation when he stumbled upon her. How would you expect a woman to travel the wilderness? Certainly not in a long skirt."
"Ya think women folk back east have takin' to dressin' like a man these days?" Lucinda asked.
"Guess you're right, you usually are." Trish strained to hear more, but for the moment only heard the birds chirping outside. "Penelope sent these, too."
"If you would set them on the bed, I'll tuck them in my sewing basket to work on later." Lucinda's gentle Tennessee drawl answered and grew closer as she climbed the stairs. Trish sat up.
"Oh, I didn't think you were up yet, honey." Lucinda continued climbing just far enough to set a bundle of clothing on the landing. "Albert just brought these things from Penelope with a message that we must come down and introduce you. I hope these fit. How did you sleep, honey?"
"Fine, thank you. When do we plan to visit…Penelope? Is it?"
"No hurry, dear. We can see to that after breakfast." Lucinda smiled before retreating down the steps.
"I'll hurry and dress and come down," Trish responded, reaching for the bundle of clothing. She had the skirt and blouse on before she realized she should have dressed in the camisole and bloomers at the bottom of the pile. She decided against the stockings, but redressed with the other items of underclothing. Going without a bra would take some getting used to, especially as she decided not to do up all the buttons of the high-necked blouse. She appeared modest, by twenty-first century standards, but when Lucinda saw her, she obviously thought all the buttons of the blouse should be buttoned clear up to her throat.
"Do you really dress that way where you are from, honey?"
"Actually, where I'm from, most of the girls wear less than the underclothing Penelope sent." Lucinda's wide-eyed expression spoke volumes. "Don't worry, I'm not like most of those girls, although it is a bit warm for long stockings."
Lucinda looked at Trish's bare feet, carefully evaluating her. She sighed as though deciding that a little understanding and friendship would prove appropriate.
"It is warm. I'd like to go without them too, honey."
Trish smiled, feeling a little guilty, and buttoned up one button. "Sorry, I didn't mean to offend."
"What do you mean, honey? I'm just trying to make you more comfortable. I must admit that I thought after reciting the Bible verse last night you would be different." Lucinda's smile seemed uncomfortable. "Back home in Tennessee, we dressed a bit different too."
"You're from Tennessee? You're a long way from home."
"Well, it was either come out west or consent to an arranged marriage to my cousin, honey. I reckon that out west sounded better," Lucinda admitted.
"So you are happy."
"It took me three winters to work my way out west." Lucinda paused from her task to reflect. "It would've been faster if I had traded my body, but in a way, that is why I left home. Why leave the devil I knew for one I didn't? Some men merely want a woman to warm their beds. I refused to be a 'sin-stained woman', honey. Albert came to Salt Lake City to get an anvil for the black smithy. We liked the looks of each other and were married and here I am. I reckon that isn't for everyone, but it was the right thing for me." Lucinda changed the subject. "I hope that eggs are okay for breakfast. I can't stomach smoked pork of late."
"That's fine, I usually only eat…" Trish caught herself before she said a bagel or muffin. A simple life prevailed here. "Just a little, that would be fine. Should I tell Albert that it's almost ready?"
"No honey, Albert has already ate before taking care of the livestock." As if on cue Albert entered the room.
"Morning ma'am, sleep well?"
"Good morning. Yes, thank you."
"Hoping you'd feel a bit more like a lady outta them trousers, ma'am."
Trish couldn't help wondering if a woman in pants was so distasteful. Of course, even in the Western movies she'd grown up on, the women almost never wore pants. They rarely even rode horses. What must they think of her?
The Talisman - Crisscross Page 12