by Bess McBride
“Please take my arm,” he said.
She tucked her hand around his arm, and he looked down at her hem.
“Ready?” he asked.
“Yes.”
He walked slowly behind Faith and Agnes, who moved ahead more quickly than he liked, given Sarah’s recent fall. He wasn’t about to drag her down the street.
With her spare hand, she clutched at a fold in the skirt, as if to keep the hem off the boardwalk.
“Have you never worn skirts before, Sarah?”
“No, never, not this length anyway.”
“You have worn trousers, even to school?”
“Even to school,” she said.
“How extraordinary!”
“Not in 2020,” she said.
He sighed heavily. “That again? I cannot tell if you are just teasing us or whether you really believe that.”
“It’s not what I believe, Jeremiah. It’s what is true. I know who I am and where I come from. At first I thought I had hit my head and was dreaming in an unconscious state, but I went to sleep and woke up, and I’m still here.”
Jeremiah chewed on his lower lip. Her unfamiliarity with skirts seemed genuine, and her clothing had been quite unusual for a woman, especially the snug denim trousers.
“Do you have proof?”
“What more proof do you need?”
“Something that you brought with you? Something with a date on it?”
She shook her head. “Unfortunately, I didn’t have my purse with me, or you would see currency from the twenty-first century.”
“That would have been proof indeed. Do you have anything else?”
“Well, there’s nothing on my body stamped 2020, so I guess not!”
Jeremiah drew in a sharp breath and looked down to see Sarah’s lips twitching, as if she attempted to hold back laughter. “I wish I could believe you, but I just can’t.”
“No, I know. I wouldn’t believe you either if you showed up in my time claiming to be from 1890.”
“You say you entered the hotel in the future? Who owns it?”
“I don’t know. It’s for sale. It’s pretty run down though, Jeremiah, so whoever owns it doesn’t care much about it.”
“Run down?” he repeated sadly. “How so?”
“It just looks abandoned. Exterior and interior paint is peeling. Dust and cobwebs are everywhere.”
“Is there any significant structural damage?”
Sarah seemed to think about his question. “You know? Actually, I don’t think so, now that I think about it. I didn’t manage to go upstairs, but I didn’t see the ceiling falling in or the floor caving in.”
Jeremiah noted stares directed their way, which he imagined was due to the incessant speculation about his bachelorhood. He couldn’t understand why people must concern themselves with his romantic future, but Benson was a small town, and gossip a small-town hobby. Nancy could certainly attest to that. She had suffered much for her husband’s crimes, as if she herself had committed them. Eric had been subjected to some taunting in school, and those boys had seen Jeremiah’s wrath, but it was Nancy who, according to Jeremiah’s father, had suffered the most.
Jeremiah quickly dismissed the thoughts of his father and Nancy. He had not wanted her as a stepmother, had not wanted any stepmother for that matter, and he wondered if she had known that and refused his father’s proposal for that reason. As an adult, he regretted saying as much to his father. Growing into adulthood, he had come to understand loneliness, pining for the touch of another human being...the touch he felt now with Sarah’s hand on his arm.
She could not know, but he was not in the habit of offering ladies his arm for a stroll. He had not yet met the woman with whom he wished to spend the rest of his life, the woman he wanted to be the mother of his children, the woman whom he desired above all others.
Sarah was speaking, and Jeremiah shook his head to snap out of his reverie.
“Anyway, Benson is much smaller than it is now, surprisingly. Usually, that goes the other way. Towns grow. Granted, I didn’t see much of Benson, but there are a lot more buildings on the street now than there were...are in 2020.”
“Such a shame,” Jeremiah said. “The railway, mining, ranching and the cavalry all contribute to support Benson, and Benson in turn supports those endeavors.”
Sarah tsked sympathetically. Then she raised her head to direct a questioning look at him.
“Are you starting to believe me? You didn’t even argue or sigh or look sad that I’m so demented when I mentioned 2020.”
Jeremiah’s lips curled. “Did I not? Well, I certainly meant to.” He sighed. “Is that sufficient?”
A broad smile lit Sarah’s face, warm in its humor and beautiful in the curve of her lips. Several thumps in his chest startled him.
“All joking aside, are you at least giving me the benefit of doubt?”
“Have you ever wondered what that expression truly means? I doubt your story—that has not changed—but I do think that you believe it.”
He felt her hand slipping from his arm, and he pressed his hand over hers. Her skin, as warm as her smile, sent a tingle up his arm. “Do not withdraw.” He immediately wished he had not said those words.
Her hand relaxed, and he relaxed.
“Forgive me. That was very forward!”
“Well, I was pulling away, so withdrawing was a good word. I’m sorry. I just feel frustrated, unheard and disbelieved. It’s a scary place to be—1890 is a scary place to be. I’m not sure how I’m going to manage or how long I’m going to be here.”
Jeremiah’s step faltered. “What do you mean? How long? Where do you intend to go?”
He looked up to see Faith and Agnes had reached the front of their boardinghouse and waited for them.
“I have to go back, Jeremiah. Even if you don’t believe me, I have to go back home. I can’t stay here. I don’t know how I can get back home, but I have to go back. I’m hoping that the next passenger train through can fix the problem. Maybe I can get on it. I’m not sure.”
“I—” Jeremiah was interrupted in his protest by Faith’s voice.
“This is our boardinghouse, Sarah. I do wish Mrs. Griggs had extra room, but she does not. Jeremiah, you will walk Sarah back to the hotel, won’t you?”
“Of course,” he said.
“We will come see you tomorrow, if that is all right with you.”
“Yes, of course.”
Faith and Agnes said their farewells and turned up the walkway to the boardinghouse.
Jeremiah felt helpless, not a normal situation for him. He turned to retrace their steps while he struggled to think of what to say. “What is this about the train?”
“I just think that since I got off the train and then crossed the road to explore your hotel, that is the way I’ll get back.”
“How do you mean?”
“I have no idea. Maybe if I get on a train going the opposite way, back toward the east, I can just shoot through time and get back to my century.”
Jeremiah struggled with the fantastical notion that a train could carry anyone anywhere except to a destination a few hours one way or the other. He shook his head. “How preposterous!”
He regretted his hasty outburst when he felt Sarah’s hand ball into a fist.
“No, this is preposterous,” she ground out. “No matter what you think, Jeremiah, this is happening. It’s real, and if you’re going to ask me questions, then please be polite while I brainstorm the answers. You don’t have to help me—well, of course you’re helping me a lot, and I really appreciate it—but you don’t have to help me brainstorm. Just don’t make fun of it either.”
“I am sorry,” he said. “I am truly sorry. I will try to control my outbursts.”
She tilted her head to look up at him, a smile forming. His heart bounced about in his chest.
“I know this can’t be easy for you.”
He was about to answer, when a familiar voice boomed.
“I just stopped by the hotel to give you an invitation to dinner at my home this evening. I would be most honored if you would accept.” Samuel had eyes only for Sarah, and he all but ignored Jeremiah.
“Oh!” Sarah said. “I don’t know—”
“Do not say no,” Samuel said. “Please come. My daughters will be there.”
Sarah looked up at Jeremiah, and he did not know what she wanted from him. He really didn’t want her to dine with Samuel, so he declined to give her an approving nod.
“I am sure that Jeremiah will be busy at the hotel—otherwise I would invite him,” Samuel said.
Jeremiah lifted an eyebrow. While he had not sought an invitation, the mere fact that he was being excluded seemed suspicious.
“I...I—” Sarah stuttered.
“Miss Chilton and I have plans for dinner this evening, Samuel. I am so sorry.”
“Tomorrow night then!”
Jeremiah, taken aback at Samuel’s insistence, started to protest, but Sarah responded.
“Okay, yes, thank you. Tomorrow night.”
Jeremiah gritted his teeth.
“Good, good. I will send a carriage for you.”
“A carriage?” Sarah said.
“My house is six miles out of town. About six o’clock?”
“Okay, thanks.”
He tipped his straw hat and passed them. Jeremiah glanced over his shoulder. He had never imagined Samuel Treadwell was in the market for a wife, but the tall man with the energetic stride certainly had eyes for Sarah.
“Well, that was weird,” she said as they resumed walking.
“Why did you agree to go? I was about to make your excuses for tomorrow, but you suddenly agreed.”
“Don’t get me wrong. I like Samuel. He’s a very nice man. I was just surprised by his invitation, that’s all. And you did offer to have dinner with me tonight, so that wasn’t a lie. Unless you’ve changed your mind?”
“Not at all,” Jeremiah said with a sinking heart. “Do you find Samuel attractive?”
Sarah smiled. “Yes, I do. He’s a handsome fellow, isn’t he, with that great white mustache and thatch of thick white hair. I love that he wears all black except for that silver vest. Very distinguished.”
Jeremiah looked down at his conservative brown suit, suddenly finding it dull, colorless and the same hue as the boardwalk, the dusty road, the desert sand. No doubt he simply blended in with his surroundings.
He ran a hand along his mouth, clean shaven. Should he grow a mustache? He had wondered on occasion but preferred a smooth shave.
“When you dined with Samuel and his daughters this morning, he said that you regaled them with tales of your journey and ‘abandonment’ here in Benson? Did you tell them your tale that you told Faith and Agnes? He certainly seems to have accepted it well. As did his daughters. When I saw you, everyone looked very relaxed and happy, as if everything was quite, quite normal.”
Sarah paused and turned to look at him, wriggling her hand from his arm.
“He’s a nice man, Jeremiah. But no, I didn’t tell him that I was abnormal. I pretended I had been on a train in 1890. It was easy enough.”
“I have not said that you were abnormal, Sarah—” Jeremiah began in protest.
“No, maybe not those exact words,” she said with a sigh. “Agnes is taking it well. Faith isn’t running for the hills screaming, though she thinks I’m not quite all there. You don’t believe me at all. Why do you think Samuel Treadwell couldn’t handle the truth?”
Jeremiah shrugged. “I do not know that he can’t. I am certain his daughters could not. But I would caution you against telling anyone else. I worry for your safety.”
“My safety?”
“Well, perhaps not safety. Reputation? I simply do not want people to ridicule you.”
Sarah eyed him. “I don’t plan on telling anyone else before I leave, Jeremiah.”
Jeremiah nodded and offered his arm again. Sarah took it, and they fell silent for the rest of the walk back to the hotel, where they parted ways—he to his office and Sarah to her room. Upon closing the door to his office, he crossed over to the window to stare at the train depot. Could an object of metal, wood, coal and steam truly carry a woman back through time? Why just one woman? Why Sarah?
Chapter Seven
Sarah returned to her room and walked over to the window to stare down at the train station. How had she been carried back in time? Why her, of all people?
She couldn’t wait for the next train heading east in two days. She would probably have to borrow money from Jeremiah to get on it, but she was determined to ride out of 1890, to get back home to the comforts and security of 2020, to her condo, her job, all that was normal.
She had agreed to go to Samuel Treadwell’s house for dinner because she knew she wasn’t actually going to go. She would be gone, one way or the other. She only hoped she didn’t end up riding the train east in 1890. On the awful chance that she did, she wondered how she would manage Richmond, Virginia, at the turn of the century—without a job, a home, her parents having not yet been born. Nope, that wouldn’t work.
Samuel Treadwell’s invitation had surprised her. She had seen sparks of interest in his eyes earlier that day but hadn’t taken them seriously, assuming he just liked to flirt with younger women. He wouldn’t be the first older man to do so, nor would he be the last.
But the invitation to dinner suggested he was interested in more than just flirting. She supposed she could just go ahead and announce that she was from the future and see how that went. It wasn’t going well with Jeremiah, who thought she was off her rocker, so maybe Samuel would think the same thing.
She looked at the clock on the mantel: 5:23. Jeremiah had arranged to meet her downstairs at six. She wanted to see the train schedule for herself and thought she had just enough time to check it out before returning to wash up for dinner.
She wondered how best to sneak out of the hotel without attracting attention. Then she wondered why she felt she had to sneak out at all. No one owned her. She hadn’t signed indenturing papers. She wasn’t under house arrest. She would simply tell whoever inquired—as if it was any of their business anyway—that she was walking over to the train station.
She tugged at her hat to make sure it was still secure and went downstairs, pausing at the landing to check the lobby. A man and woman with luggage stood at the counter, and Eric attended to them.
Sarah hurried down the rest of the stairs, looking straight ahead, and hustled to the door as fast as she could. She slipped out, fully expecting to hear a shout. She heard nothing and closed the door behind her. Then she grabbed up her skirts and trotted across the dusty street toward the train station, hating the feeling that she was doing something wrong. Of course she wasn’t!
She hurried around to the railway side of the building, stepping up onto the platform. Several weathered wooden benches lined the wall outside the station. She opened the door and stepped inside. Empty benches dominated the large waiting room.
She spotted a counter at the far end of the room and walked toward it. A short, stout gentleman sitting behind the counter rose. An improbably black mustache covered much of the lower half of his face, and Sarah wondered if he colored it with shoe polish. Underneath a train cap, the wispy sides of his hair were gray.
“Can I help you?” he asked.
“Hello. I was wondering when the next train out was?”
“Out?” he asked, blue eyes twinkling. “Most people leave Benson to go to another destination. Which way ‘out’ did you wish to go?”
Sarah’s cheeks colored. “East?”
“Again, I ask. Destination?”
“Virginia?”
“Ah!” He consulted something behind the counter. “The next train east leaves tomorrow morning at ten a.m. You’ll—”
“Oh good!” Sarah said with relief. “How much is it?”
“As I was saying, you’ll have to change trains in Chicago. Depending on the city of your final destination, the cost could be as much as forty-two dollars.”
“Forty-two dollars?”
“Yes. I know it seems excessive, but the price of travel keeps going up, doesn’t it?”
“No, that didn’t seem expensive at all. Can I make a reservation?”
“Certainly. What is your final destination?”
“Where does the train go in Virginia?”
He took a deep breath, as if trying to be patient.
“Where do you want to go in Virginia?”
“Richmond?”
He glanced down again, and Sarah rose on tiptoe to see what he was looking at. He caught her movement, and the twinkle in his eyes deepened.
“I am writing out your ticket, miss.”
“Oh! So soon? Do I have to pay now?”
“Yes. Are you not prepared to pay?” He stopped what he was doing.
Sarah shook her head. “No, I don’t have any money on me right now. Can I—”
“Sarah!” a familiar voice called out behind her.
She turned to see Jeremiah striding toward the counter.
“Good afternoon, Henry,” he said with a nod. “Miss Chilton, may I speak with you privately?”
Sarah, her cheeks flaming, looked at Henry, who watched the two of them curiously.
“I’ll just be a minute,” she said to Jeremiah, turning back to Henry. She was trapped though. She would have to borrow money for a ticket from Jeremiah, and there he was.
“Okay, sure,” she said, changing her mind. “Could you excuse me for a minute?” she said to Henry. “I’ll be back in a bit.”
“I’m closing for the day in two minutes, miss,” Henry said, consulting a pocket watch.
Sarah, in the act of turning away, whirled around. “What?”
“I close at 5:30, miss. Sharp.”
She turned back to Jeremiah. “Can you lend me forty-two dollars so I can buy a ticket for tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow?” Jeremiah repeated in a strangled voice. “Tomorrow? A ticket? Where are you going?”
“East. I told you. On the next train out.”