She didn't answer for a minute. Her eyes were dry, but when she spoke, her voice was husky with tears. He had to lean forward to hear her. "I could go. Every week. But I still won't believe it. I'll end up hating it. And resenting it."
"If you do, then I would want you to stop," he said. "But you have to take it one step at a time."
"What's the barest minimum I can do?" she asked. He saw her shaky attempt at a smile and he gave up trying to not touch her. Moving to sit beside her, he pulled her against him, relieved when she snuggled into his shoulder. He could never give her up. In the other timeline, had he ever come this close to rebelling against his family's wishes? He was going to marry her, no matter what happened.
"Sunday mornings," he said. "Just the church service. You might consider Sunday School or one of the women's groups, just to find friends. But you don't have to. Come to Comber on weekends and go to church with my family." He squeezed her briefly. "Bow your head during family prayers." She giggled. Neither she or Sam had done that when the family prayed before dinner and one of the older children had mentioned it, and was promptly called to task for not bowing his own head. He touched her hair and she raised her head to look at him. "That's all for now. Start small."
She nodded, and he felt a slight loosening in his chest. There was a chance.
Chapter 20
April 1907
Tom played on the North Down Cricket Team, and he invited Casey and Sam to the game in Belfast on a Saturday afternoon in late April. There was no rain, so Casey spread a blanket on the grass with the other spectators. Tom loved seeing her there, looking over often enough that a few of his mates felt it necessary to remind him to play cricket. They were jovial about it, since he managed to score a respectable amount.
He kept looking because she was the perfect picture of a fashionable lady. Her beige skirt and white blouse were exactly right for a sunny afternoon, and the wide hat she wore hid her short hair. She had a parasol, but had deemed it superfluous with the hat, and besides, holding it kept her from clapping whenever he made a hit.
His friends approved of her. He hoped she would find a friend or two among the women. George's wife, Susan, had promised to make Casey a special project of hers. Tom noticed when Susan arrived and sat next to Casey, who began playing with Susan's five month old son. He liked seeing her laughing and chatting with the women. He wanted her to feel as if she belonged. He wanted her to say 'yes' when he asked her to marry him.
He had called his mother before leaving work, to let her know he wouldn't be over this weekend. Somehow, it had not occurred to him that he'd done the same thing the week before, and the week before that, and just possibly, the week before that. His mother, of course, remembered this, and she had never spoken to him in such an exasperated tone.
"Dear, perhaps it's not a good idea to pursue the girl with such dedication. There is something to be said for suspense, you know."
He trusted her advice, as always. So, touching the ring in his pocket, he considered her words for a moment before answering. "I can't play games with her, Mother. If I came to Ardara and didn't see her, I'd be miserable. I just want to be with her. It's not like I get to see her very much, you know."
"I understand she has been attending church with you in Belfast," she replied. "Is she willing to attend with us in Comber? She and Dr. Altair are, of course, welcome for the weekend."
"I know that Casey would be delighted," Tom said. This was, perhaps, a bit strong, but anyway, he knew she would go. Nervous, he plunged ahead. "Mother, I am in love with Casey. I want to marry her and I want to ask her as soon as possible. Will you and Father give your blessing? I know you have concerns, but I'm asking you to trust me on this. She is trying to meet your conditions, in spirit as well as practice. Please welcome her into the family."
He was surprised at her answer. "Tommy," with a sigh, "Your father and I have already discussed this, and we both agree that we have no real right to interfere in your decision. You're a grown man, and a good one. We have nothing but pride and love for you, and we want you to be happy."
She was quiet for a moment. "You're right, we still have concerns. But we know she is trying, and we have agreed that if this is really what you want, and if Casey will be your wife, then she will be our daughter."
~~~
After the game, Tom, Casey, and Sam strolled the market for food to take home for dinner. Now with the meal cooking, they settled in the parlor, Sam and Tom in chairs and Casey on the window seat, catching the late afternoon sun.
"So, what do you miss the most about the twenty-first century?" Tom asked them. He liked to ask things like this; he never got tired of hearing about the future.
"Miss the most?" Sam repeated, giving it some thought. "Television, I think."
"Television!" Casey was appalled. "How can you miss T.V.?"
"Oh, are you one of those snobs who never watched?"
She lifted her eyes heavenward and shrugged. "I suppose. I was a busy person. I didn't have time to watch."
Sam nodded in understanding while Tom looked on in amusement. He had no idea what they were talking about, but they'd get around to explaining. "It's not so much that I miss what was on T.V.," Sam explained, "it's the idea that I could watch something if I wanted to. That's what I miss."
"Oh." Casey thought about it. "I can see that, sure."
She was outlined in the sun; her hair seemed aflame. Tom smiled at her, enjoying the pleasure he got from looking at her. "And what do you miss the most about the twenty-first century, dear?"
Her glance returned to the window and her expression was melancholy. "My mother," she said.
Sam folded his hands and looked at the ceiling. Tom got up and went to sit by her on the window seat, cupping her face in his hands and kissing her forehead. "Sweetheart, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you sad."
She smiled a little. "I wish she could meet you."
"Ah, I wish that too, lass." He tilted his head, eyes crinkled with curiosity. "Would she approve? And your father?"
Her smile widened. "Oh yes. I think if they could meet you, they would not be worried about me at all." She turned her face to kiss his palm, her expression thoughtful. "It's silly, maybe, to miss her like this. After all, she lived in Berkeley and I lived in Belfast. But we used to talk all the time, almost every day."
This kind of statement always gave Tom the shivers. What kind of technology was it, that allowed a mother and daughter to talk every day between Berkeley, California and Belfast, Ireland?
Casey gave a little laugh. "She had this uncanny knack for calling me just as I had sat down at a pub to do some serious drinking with my friends. It never failed that my phone would ring within ten minutes of sitting down." Her voice changed as she mimicked the call. "'Hi, Mom.' 'Hello, Sweetie. How are you? What are you doing?' 'Getting drunk, Mom. So, what are you doing?'"
They both laughed, and Casey looked at Tom in embarrassment. "You must think I'm awful, going out and drinking at pubs."
He touched her hair, his expression serious. "You and I have had quite different upbringings, even not accounting for the time difference," he said. "My mother was firm that none of us ever drink alcohol, and none of us does to this day. Alcoholism is such a problem in this country that I could never fault her for her insistence. But according to your society you weren't doing anything wrong. It comforts me that you weren't doing anything your parents weren't aware of." His fingers caressed her cheek. "I know you well enough to know how good you are. I think you're…young." He shrugged. "Maybe I never drank, but I did not always make excellent choices either, when I was your age."
"I never got very drunk, you know," she clarified, patting her stomach. "I can't hold enough beer."
He gave a little laugh and hugged her, more content than he had ever felt in his life. When Sam cleared his throat they broke the embrace, but didn't move more than a few inches apart.
Sam just grinned and went into the kitchen to get dinner.
She wrapped her fingers through his and led him through the house to the back door. It had been a warm spring day, but with the fading light, a breeze had come up. Tom slipped his jacket off, to help her into it. The yard had submitted to Casey's ministrations and the grass was thick, with early plants beginning to rise along the border. Ash trees were spreading with leaves and some birds had built a nest. Tom smiled when he saw it, considering that a good sign.
It was a small yard and they soon traversed it, even though they strolled. They paused next to the hedges in back, to admire an early and brave rhododendron Casey spied within the branches. Rather, Casey admired the flower while Tom admired her, hands in his pockets, fingers caressing the ring he had there. He smiled steadily at her until she turned with a laugh. "There are other nice things to look at, sir."
He tilted his head. "I'll be the judge of that, Miss." He reached into the hedge and plucked the flower, bringing it out and cupping it in his hands. Its red was almost black in the gathering twilight and he presented it to her, keeping the stem covered by his fingers.
"For you, my flower," he whispered.
She didn't take it right away. Instead, she reached to cup his face in her hands, her lips meeting his in a tender and languorous kiss. Not wanting to crush the flower, he could only stand there and return her kiss, shivering under her lips. He felt as if a wave of love had crashed over him, and he would gladly drown in it.
She pulled away, her expression dreamy, her hands a feather-light stroke on his face. She laughed a little as she remembered the flower and she took it in both hands, with a slight, teasing curtsey. He couldn't speak, just watched her pleased smile change to astonishment as her fingers found the ring he had slipped around the stem, the diamond sparkling in the light from the house. As her eyes went back to his face, he took both her hands, enclosing the flower and ring, in his hands.
"I love you, Casey. I need you for all my life. Please Casey, will you marry me?"
His heart overflowed with joy as she nodded. He would forever hear her answer, "Oh yes. Yes, Tom," and forever remember the look on her face. He slipped the ring onto her finger, joyful, nervous and excited all at once. He had no doubts at all.
Chapter 21
April 1907
Casey struggled to button her delicate, flouncy blouse before Tom arrived on Saturday afternoon to drive them to Ardara. Why is Edwardian fashion so enamored of fastenings in the back? It’s like they expect everyone to have a personal maid. She stared at her face in the mirror of her vanity: skin flushed, eyes wide, like a deer in the headlights. I can’t figure out what my role is supposed to be in Tom’s family. They think I was born in 1885! In how many ways am I screwing up what they expect to see? What do they expect of me as Tom’s wife, as daughter-in-law or sister-in-law or aunt?
Her stomach felt like a mass of buzzing bees. And even in her thoughts, she knew she was avoiding the Real Issue.
Irritated, she gave up on the blouse and pounded downstairs, demanding that Sam please get those last two buttons in the middle of her back. He did, but used the opportunity to bring up another sore point.
“We should think about hiring a maid for you, Casey.”
“What?” She whirled to face him, causing him to draw back in mock alarm. He spread his hands to show his innocence.
“It’s just a suggestion, dear. You’re going to have to have one sooner or later. Sooner would be better, for a couple of reasons.”
“Like what?” She tapped her toe, but Sam ignored it.
“You’ll be going out more often now, both with Tom, and with other women. Tea times. Shopping.” He watched her as she narrowed her eyes. “You’ll have to dress up more often and you need help with these outfits. And you’ll need a chaperone whenever you’re with Tom, and I don’t want to always have to be available.”
“I don’t want someone following me around all day. I’m still working. I don’t need a maid, there.”
“No, but perhaps we should hire a woman to be available on evenings and weekends. I’m not sure how it’s done, exactly, we’ll have to ask.”
“No, Sam.” The bees in her stomach began doing flips. “Constant chaperones are just another way of keeping women as chattel. I will not subject myself to that. I’m an adult; I’ve been on my own for almost four years. I’m not retreating into childhood, again.”
“Case, you have to consider how you look to the rest of society. At least, to Tom’s family. This isn’t about independence. It’s about fitting in. They don’t see you as a child.”
“No, they see me as woman. So I’m either weak and silly, and therefore unable to take care of myself, or I’m a source of evil temptation that Tom and I both must be protected from! This all makes me so mad, I could spit!”
“Yes, very mature.”
“You don’t have to deal with it, Sam!”
“Casey, people will talk about you. You and I know it’s ridiculous, but they’ll do it. And they’ll talk about Tom. He’ll never force you to do anything, but if you run around without a maid or chaperone, it will end up reflecting poorly on him.”
She closed her eyes. This was the one argument for which she had no response. Whatever else she did, she was determined that Tom Andrews would never suffer because a girl from the future had stumbled into his life one day in 1906.
“Am I making a mistake, Sam?”
He laughed, making her tighten her lips in frustration. “This is all just a case of second thoughts, isn’t it?” he said.
She glared at him. “Not exactly.” She didn’t sound convincing, even to herself.
“You’re nervous about going to church aren’t you?”
There it was. The Issue. She and Sam were spending the weekend at Ardara and tomorrow, she had agreed to accompany Tom and his family to church. Sam had politely refused and Tom had accepted that. But Casey didn’t have that option. She had been attending Tom’s church in Belfast and in truth, she did not like it, although the music was nice. But the Andrews family had attended the church in Comber for literally centuries. Casey knew she’d be on display. Tom had tried to reassure her. She wouldn’t have to always attend, he had said. But for now, it was important.
She thought about ignoring Sam’s words, but knew it wouldn’t do any good. “I love him, Sam. But I’m not so naïve that I think love answers all problems. I don’t know if I can spend the rest of my life going to church every Sunday.”
“I thought you two worked out a compromise. He doesn’t expect you to always attend church, does he?”
“His family expects certain behavior from me, even if he doesn’t. All of society expects me to be pious and submissive. I’m not sure I can deliver that. Another thing I do that will reflect poorly on him.”
“Nonsense. Remember, you won’t be living in Comber. Tom believes in Christianity but after all, he usually only goes to church when he’s at Ardara and only occasionally when he stays in Belfast. He’s already said you won’t be spending every weekend with his family. Maybe just once a month or so.”
She nodded, disturbed. “I know, I know. I’m just worried that once people start expressing disapproval, Tom will cave. You know how he hates to disappoint people. And this is an important issue in this society.”
Sam shrugged. “You’ll always be the “odd” member of the family, along with your equally “odd” guardian. We won’t be able to change that.” He studied her for a moment. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but it might help to remember you’re not the center of the universe. They aren’t going to be watching you closely for the rest of your life. In a short time, you’ll just be another member of the family, and it’s a big family. If we play our cards right, you and I will just get lost in the jumble.”
~~~
Tom did not seem surprised at Sam’s question about a personal maid as they drove through Belfast in Tom’s Renault. The day was warm for early spring and alt
hough Casey was wrapped in a travel cloak to keep her clothes clean, the men wore just their jackets and bowler hats. Their usual habit was for Casey to sit up front with Tom, while Sam relaxed in back, so Tom directed his remark over his shoulder in an attempt to be heard by both of them, but he glanced apologetically at Casey. “My mother brought this up when we spoke on the phone the other night. They were all quite surprised that you didn’t have a maid.”
“Meaning I am supposed to have one?” Casey couldn’t keep the defensiveness she felt out of her tone.
He shrugged. “They just put it down to being American.” He gave her a teasing smile and reached over to squeeze her hand. “You can get away with a lot using that excuse.”
Sam laughed at that and Casey let her lips twitch, but she was too upset to enjoy his teasing. She sighed in defeat. “So how do we find a maid? Do we advertise in the paper?” She remembered seeing lots of advertisements for servants back when she and Sam were scouring the classifieds for jobs.
“You could,” Tom said, “or there are agencies you can use, but Mother had a different suggestion, if you don’t consider it meddling.”
Grabbing the door of the car as they went over a steep bump, Casey shook her head. “No, of course not. In fact, I’d love suggestions.” Just please don’t stick me with a stern, bitter spinster who doesn’t think girls should ever have fun. The bees returned to her stomach as she considered possible options.
“Do you mind if we make a quick stop?” Tom asked. “It’s just a short detour and I’d like to show you something.”
They had no objections, and as he turned right at the next street, he continued with the previous discussion. “You’ve met Penny Altwright, haven’t you? She’s an upstairs maid at Ardara.”
“Of course,” Casey told him. “She was very sweet.”
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