“Mama...” she repeated, louder.
“I’m sorry honey, but I don’t know where your mama is,” Tony said softly. “We’ll find her as soon as we can.” First he had to make sure she didn’t succumb to hypothermia. “Let’s get you inside and out of those wet clothes before you freeze.”
“Ma- ma...” The little girl’s gaze darted around, focused on Tony, then at the raging floodwaters a few feet away. Her lower lip trembled, and she panted in shallow gulps. “Wa- waaaAAAAAHHHHer!” she shrieked. “No! No water! NO WATER! NO! NOOOOOOOOOOOO!” Tony reached for her and scooped her into his arms. Her screams faded into unintelligible blubbering. “Please don’t... no! Water! Please...”
Tony cradled the girl’s head against his chest. “It’s all right, baby, it’s all right. You’re safe now. It’s all right.” Finally, she quieted. “Let’s get you inside, okay?” Her head shifted against him in what he hoped was a nod.
Driftwood shifted beneath him as he hoisted her over his shoulder and painstakingly made his way back to the Smoke Shop, trying to hurry and get her inside before the whole pile gave way and the river claimed them both. She held still while he pushed her through the open window, then boosted himself through.
She struggled to sit. “Mama?” She searched the attic.
“Oh, God,” Tony murmured. Had the poor kid just watched her mother drown? “Your mama’s not here, honey. But we’ll find her.” Alive, he hoped. And soon, too. Not only for the little girl’s sake, but he didn’t know if he could handle another meltdown.
“She went... to heaven,” the girl said. “A long time ago.”
Some of the tension slipped off Tony’s bones. “We’ve got to get you out of these wet things, okay?” He unbuttoned her coat, grateful the child hadn’t just seen her mother swept away by the river. But what was he going to do with her?
She leaned over so he could more easily pull off her dripping coat. “Th- thank you, sir.”
“I’m just glad I was able get to you.” He knelt, leaned back on his ankles and gave his best shot at a don’t-worry-it’s-going-to-be-all-right smile, but the expression faded as the girl continued to shiver. “Can you get undressed? There’s a blanket over there, I’ll go get it.”
She looked down at herself, then brought a pair of shaking hands to the buttons on her dress. He jumped up and slammed the window shut, then dashed across the attic and grabbed the quilt he’d slept on, ignoring the chill settling into his own body.
He waited as she fumbled around the neck of her dress. Her fingertips had a bluish cast, and slipped over the tiny button.
He had to help her. The longer it took for her to get dry and warm, the more she was at risk for hypothermia. “Is it okay if I help?” Tony reached for the buttons.
Her golden brown eyes went round, but not fearful. Finally, the girl nodded.
Letting a stranger undress her felt funny. Even Charlotte’s papa hadn’t done that since she was little. But the man was right, so she let him unbutton her wet dress.
“What’s your name?” He worked the next button free.
“Ch- Charlotte. Charlotte Henderson,” she said through chattering teeth. “What’s yours?”
His hands went still, as if he had to think about it. “Tony Solomon.”
“It’s very nice to meet you, Mr. Solomon.”
The corners of his mouth turned up a little. “I don’t know about nice, considering the situation, but I’m glad to meet you, too.” He undid the last button and sat back on his ankles. “Can you get your clothes off the rest of the way?”
“I- I think so.”
He scooted around so he faced away from her. “When you’re done, wrap up in that blanket.”
“Y- yes, Mr. Solomon.”
“You can call me Tony.”
He sat with his back to her while she worked to pull the soaked dress over her head. “My papa says it’s disrespectful to call adults by their Christian names.”
“You and I will probably get to be real good friends by the time we get out of here. So under the circumstances, I think it’s okay.”
“My name’s really Dorothy.” Talking helped warm her insides. “Charlotte’s my middle name, but my mama’s—”
“No way.” He turned around, and his eyes got really big like she’d grown wings or a tail. Then, as if he’d suddenly remembered she had her dress half off, he quickly faced away again.
“Why do you say that?” Why didn’t he believe her?
“That’s my ex-wife’s name.”
“Wha-”
“Dorothy Henderson. My ex-wife,” he repeated. Charlotte wiggled out of her slip. “That was her name before we got married. Only her middle name’s Carol. And everyone calls her Dora because she doesn’t like Dorothy. Or Carol.”
“My grandma’s the only other Dorothy Henderson I know,” Charlotte said.
“Probably no relation, Dora’s family’s not from around here.” He half-turned. “Charlotte’s a pretty name.”
“Thank you, sir.” How funny that she had the same name as his wife. She pulled her stockings off. Her shoes had come off after she fell into the water. She hoped Papa wasn’t angry that she’d lost them. Her bloomers were wet too, but she left them on. Mr. Solomon was saying something about the rain. Her papa would say it was idle chatter, but she was grateful the man kept talking. He was trying to make her feel better, to help her forget the horrible cold and wet. She pulled the quilt around her.
Tony watched the corner of it slide along the floor. “You covered up?”
“Yes, sir.”
He scooted around and studied her. “You’re still freezing.” He motioned her toward him. She crawled over. He snatched a jacket off the floor next to him and piled it over the quilt. Then he sat, Indian-style, and motioned with his hands. “Come here.” He wanted her to sit with him. When she moved closer, he pulled her onto his lap and wrapped his arms around her. “This’ll be the best way to get you warm.” He lowered his chin so it rested on top of her head.
He was warm, but she couldn’t stop shivering. Keeping one arm around her, he swiped his glasses off with the other hand, rubbed them on the quilt, then pushed them back on.
She wriggled in the quilt until she could twist around.
He was a handsome man, though not quite what she would picture as a hero. His dark hair stuck up sort of funny, and he acted nervous, like Dewey did after he told Papa a fib. Mr. Solomon’s oval-shaped, gold glasses were just like Papa’s, only shinier, but something about his clothes wasn’t quite right. He wore a nice shirt and trousers, like those her papa wore to the office, but no vest, and the tie that hung loosely knotted below his neck was fatter than Papa’s. His collar had pointy corners, and was shorter than it should be. But strangest of all was the pale, thick scar around his neck.
He caught her staring. “Feeling better?”
She’d almost stopped shivering. “Yes, sir.” He looked like he expected her to say something, so she asked the first thing she thought of. “Do you have family out in that?”
He had to think about it. “Yeah. Distant relatives. I’m not sure exactly where they live. What about you?”
“My papa’s at work. He works in a big office on First Street. Mabel—that’s my sister—and my brother Dewey—they were still at home when I went to the store...” She stuck a hand out of the blanket and twirled it in her damp hair. “I hope they’re all right.” Her voice was shaky.
“I’m sure they’re fine.”
“And Mr. Henry.”
“Who’s he?”
“He owns the market... before the water tore it to pieces.” She told him about her morning up to the time she fell into the water near the building they now sat inside. “I was sure I was a goner, ‘cause I don’t know how to swim.” All that horrid, yucky water swirling around her... she couldn’t breathe... then the water swallowed her, every move trapped her further, and it was so cold... She shivered. Then everything had become bright, so bright she couldn’t s
ee anything. Nothing except her mama in the middle of all that light...
Tony rubbed his hands up and down her back. “How old are you?” He said it quickly, as if he was trying to change the subject.
“Nine.” She was glad he’d made her think of something besides the awful water and how cold she was.
“You look older.”
“Everyone says that. I’m tall for my age.”
“What grade are you in?”
“Fourth. I’m supposed to be in third, but last year it was too easy and they let me skip a grade.”
“You must be really smart.”
“I am,” Charlotte said. “Papa says I’m pre- preco...”
His mouth twitched, like he was trying not to laugh. “Precocious?”
“Yes! That’s it.”
“What’s your favorite subject in school?”
It was hard to choose. She liked them all, even math. “Science, I think. Or maybe reading. Because a good book can take you anywhere. That’s what my teacher says.”
“She’s right.”
“I like everything about school, except for Sammy Schmidt and John Oliver. They’re boys in my class. They make fun of me and call me Too-Tall-Charlotte. But Miss Jessup—she’s our teacher—she makes them clean erasers if she hears. She’s really nice. She tells us lots of good stories, and... when I told her I want to be an inventor when I grow up, she didn’t tell me it was foolish and girls are supposed to get married and have children, like Uncle Curtis says. Miss Jessup says women can do anything if we put our minds to it.”
“Your teacher’s right,” Tony said.
“She does lots of work for women’s suffer— so women can vote,” Charlotte said. “Papa and Uncle Curtis say it’s nonsense, that women don’t belong at voting places.”
Mr. Solomon lifted his hand and brushed a clump of stray hair our of her face. “Well, I disagree. And I have a feeling your teacher’s efforts will pay off before long. By the time you’re old enough to vote, I bet you’ll be able to.”
“Really?” Charlotte searched his face for a sign he was joking.
“I think so.” He shifted her on his lap.
They talked about all sorts of things—Charlotte’s papa, Dewey, and bossy Mabel, Mr. Solomon’s—Tony’s—job in a big office building. He said he helped people find smarter ways—what a funny thing to say—to run their businesses. He’d traveled all over the world. He’d even flown in an airplane!
“Wow! Do you know the Wrights?” A friend of Uncle Curtis’ knew them, and one time he took Charlotte out to Huffman Field to watch them fly. It was the most amazing thing she’d ever seen.
“Uh... not personally.”
“I wish I could fly in an aeroplane,” Charlotte said.
“Maybe you will someday. I bet they’ll keep building bigger and faster planes. Ones that can carry hundreds of people, and fly over the ocean in just a few hours.”
“Woooooow!” Charlotte drew the word out. Maybe she’d get to go flying one day. Maybe she’d get to help build better airplanes. “Papa tells me I have an overactive imagination when I say things like that.” She twisted around so she could see Tony’s face. Even behind the glasses, his eyes were as blue as the sky on a pretty day. “Do you have any children?”
“I used to have a little girl.”
“Used to?”
A little muscle in his chin twitched. “Yeah. She ah, was killed in a car accident.”
“Oh.” Something in his voice told her he wasn’t telling the whole truth, but she shouldn’t ask any more questions about it. “My mama died when I was three. She had consumption.”
Tony’s fingers twiddled in the quilt, as if searching for something to grab. He gazed out the window, then into the far corner of the attic, where it was darkest. “Sucks, doesn’t it.” His voice came out harsh.
“Sucks?” Charlotte searched his face. He had a funny way of talking, and his words didn’t make sense.
“I mean it’s... hard to deal with.” His hands stilled on the quilt over her hips.
She snuggled closer against him. “What was she like? Your little girl?”
His arm tightened around her, and in the long silence the rain drumming on the roof and the water rushing by outside seemed to grow louder.
“She was beautiful.” His voice went soft. “At least she was to me.” He blinked a lot, fast.
“I’m sorry,” Charlotte mumbled. It was what people always said when they learned about Mama.
“Yeah, me too.” He fingered the edge of his glasses. “She liked to read, like you. And she liked to draw, though I think she knew she wasn’t very good at it. She did well in school when she wanted to. She played basketball, too. And when she grew up, she wanted to be a compu- uh, a mathematician.”
“Golly! Papa would say that’s foolishness, like me wanting to be an inventor.”
“Why does he say that?”
“Because I’m a girl.” She tried not to pout.
“So?”
“Because... I don’t know. You don’t think it’s foolish?”
“Not at all.” He rubbed his hand up and down the quilt where it covered her arm. “Women can do anything. Even be ast- uh, pilots. Aviators.”
“Like Harriet Quimby,” Charlotte breathed.
“Sure. Maybe someday we’ll even have a woman president. Are you warmer now?”
“Yes, thank you.”
“Good. Because I have to put you down.” He scooted her off his lap. “I’ve got to get something to drink.” He rose and walked to the nearest crate. “If I could just find something to catch some rainwater in...”
She settled against the wooden box and pulled the blanket and his jacket tightly around herself, then craned her neck and turned around. He picked at the crate’s lid. “Damn thing’s nailed tighter’n hell.” He moved to another crate a few feet away, then the next.
“What are you looking for?” Charlotte asked.
“A screwdriver, crowbar, something to open this with.”
“I’ll help.” Clutching his jacket and the quilt to her with one hand, she rose and tiptoed around the staircase hole. Water filled it up to the second step from the top.
At the other end of the attic, she found a box full of fascinating junk—ashtrays, empty candle holders, electrical wires. But before she reached it something shiny on the floor near the window caught her eye. A copper coin. She reached for it—
“Aha,” Tony said. Charlotte’s head flipped around. He’d found a crate someone had already opened.
He lifted the lid and held up a red and white, soup-can-sized canister of tobacco. The kind her papa bought. “Perfect.” He pulled the lid off and dumped the tobacco into the opened crate. “Sorry, Mr. Goodwin, but we need some water.” He walked to the window, eased it open, then wedged the can under the sash. “Now we wait.” He scooped Charlotte’s dress off the floor and carried it to the stairwell, leaving a wet trail.
“What are you doing?” She gripped her quilt tighter.
“Laying these out to dry.” He held her dress over the opening and wrung the water out, then spread it on the floor. He did the same with her coat. “They’ll take a while to dry in this cold, but there’s not much else we can do.” He returned to the window and sat, watching the tobacco can as if that would make it fill faster. Charlotte started to join him when she remembered the coin on the floor.
She picked it up. A quarter. Finding a penny was supposed to be lucky, so a quarter must be even luckier. She hoped it was. They needed all the luck they could get.
She frowned as she held it up to the light coming in from the window. It looked like a quarter, but the picture on it was all wrong. Instead of Lady Liberty, it had a picture of George Washington, with IN GOD WE TRUST beside his head. But it said QUARTER DOLLAR right beneath him.
She flipped the coin over, and the other side was even stranger. It showed an outline of Ohio, with the Wrights’ aeroplane, and a man wearing what looked like a big, puffy diving s
uit. Above the aeroplane it said “Birthplace of Aviation Pioneers.”
She’d never seen a quarter like that. She turned it again and angled it.
At the top it said OHIO 1803. She supposed that was all right, for that was when Ohio became a state; they’d learned that in school. But what could the number on the bottom mean? It should be the year the coin was made, but that couldn’t be right. 2002 was almost a hundred years away! She scooted closer to the window and tilted the quarter in the light, in case she’d read it wrong.
It still read 2002. She squinched up her nose. It must mean something else, or it had to be a mistake.
She looked at Tony. He stared out the window, hadn’t seen her. She closed her fist around the quarter. Maybe it was his. Giving it back was the right thing to do, but she didn’t want to.
She searched the floor. Maybe she could find more funny money. There were no more coins in sight, but a thick square of brown leather lay next to one of the crates. A billfold. Probably Mr. Solomon’s. She picked it up, and it flipped open.
From a white card with typing on it, a photo of someone stared back at her. Him. In color. When she tipped it in the light from the window, tiny rainbows danced around a circle thing beside it. She gasped.
Tony’s head snapped around. He sat frozen with a dumbfounded look on his face, like something important had just happened, but he didn’t know what to do. When he spoke, he drew out the words slowly. “Oh... shit.”
“It’s beautiful,” Charlotte breathed. Unable to tear her gaze away, she studied the strange card. Ohio Driver License, it said across the top. He strode across the attic and snatched the wallet out of her hand before she could read further. “Mr. Solomon?” she asked as he jammed it into his pocket. “What’s the pretty card for?”
“It’s, uh...” His teeth pressed at the tip of his tongue.
“Mr.— Tony? Where are you from?”
He clamped his mouth shut for a second before he answered. “Not far from here.”
She wasn’t sure she believed him. “I’ve never seen anything like that before.” Pictures were just black and white and gray unless someone colored them... but his photograph looked... real. And what made the rainbows? “Where did you get it?”
Time's Enemy: A Romantic Time Travel Adventure (Saturn Society Book 1) Page 10