"Maybe we should ask Peggy if we can ride in her nice car, too?" he asked, trying to get a rise out of me.
"If you can't take the cold, sweetums, then feel free." I stretched and yawned. "I guess I'm just tougher than you."
Kipp replied to the latter by leaning in and giving me a rather significant nip on the calf of my left leg; I was certain there would be a bruise. In any case, I limped on down to the library while Kipp went to meet Juno and the class of juvenile lupines that they instructed.
"Why are you hobbling?" Fitzhugh asked, as I walked in.
"Kipp bit me."
"Oh, okay," he answered, as if I'd said nothing of importance. "On a more significant note," he began, "I took a little peek at the archives and so far find nothing to indicate there has been a time shift to chronicle the abduction of the General." Fitzhugh stared at me over his reading glasses. "That doesn't guarantee an approval, of course, but it does help if one is not completely duplicating a past trip."
Peggy walked up and greeted me politely before beginning to outline my work load for the day. Fitzhugh stood next to her like a proud papa, watching his baby girl speak or walk for the first time. Honestly, it sort of irritated me. I'd been in the library long before Peggy, and I really didn't need her telling me what to do. Fitzhugh was another matter since he couldn't help but be bossy.
"Take it easy," Kipp said, his voice resonating in my mind from his perch several floors above me. "She's just trying to do her job. Take a deep breath, count to, uh, five, since ten takes too long, and let it go."
"Whatever you say, Dr. Kipp," I replied sarcastically. But I took his advice as well as my sheaf of papers and went to my desk. Or at least I thought I was going to my desk. "Okay, where's my desk?" I asked. It had been in a comfortable nook where there was a small collection of upholstered chairs for reading as well as gathering.
"I moved it to the back where it would be out of the way," Peggy replied, her expression neutral.
"I'm on my way," Kipp echoed in my head, sensing a Petra meltdown.
"You moved my desk without speaking to me?" I said, trying to keep my tone level. But it was difficult. "I was out on a job, on a time shift, and you moved my desk that has been here for years without the courtesy of speaking to me, right?"
The more I spoke, the angrier I got. I was not necessarily given to rages of temperament, but I could get hot, just like the next symbiont. And this particular moment was a little complex. Fitzhugh could have intervened and told her to not move my desk, but he had just stood there, like a silly love struck teenager, and let her do whatever she wanted with a pat on the head, despite how it made me feel. The door to the library opened softly, and in a second Kipp was at my side, staring up at me with concern.
"I didn't think it was a big deal, Petra. I really didn't think it would bother you, but it obviously does," Peggy began, her pretty face beginning to flush. She could have backed down, apologized at that moment and salvaged the situation. But she, unfortunately, didn't. "After all, Petra, you just work here. Fitzhugh is in charge, and I am next in charge, so we make the decisions about where subordinates work and what they do." Peggy put her hands on her hips once she decided to go the aggressive, dominant route.
I stared at Fitzhugh and immediately noticed that his face had taken on a gray pallor; he looked absolutely stricken. At that moment, I knew he realized how shabbily I'd been treated and his immense regret and horror over the situation. He'd been so caught up in liking Peggy that he'd taken me for granted. My worry over his health humbled me in a flash, because I knew he had deep affection for me and wouldn't have deliberately injured me. Even symbionts could be thoughtless at times with those whom they loved.
"It's okay," I said, forcing a smile. "You're right, Peggy. I'm in and out a lot, anyway. And my desk is always cluttered and disrupts the seating area." I managed a laugh. "Actually, I've always been worried someone would mess with my manuscripts since they were so close to the front of the library. A little privacy is a good thing."
Fitzhugh was frowning at me at that point, but I was relieved to see he was no longer gray. Kipp pushed up next to my leg, the one he'd nipped, and folded his haunches so that he was seated, his head in the right location for a good scratch between the ears. I almost could hear him utter a sigh of relief.
"I'm gonna get to work if you'll point me in the right direction," I said, a little too brightly, feeling a silly, artificial grin overtake my face.
Following Peggy, I almost skipped through the stacks until we located my desk which was in a dimly lit, far corner of the library. I wondered if I would need to bring a Swifter to keep ahead of the cobwebs that would accumulate in the dungeon to which I'd been relegated. Peggy looked as if she would hover a moment, but I politely shooed her away, saying I was late getting started and had a pile of translations waiting on me.
"She really didn't mean harm to you," Kipp said, after Peggy had left.
"Did you do one of your stealth runs into her brain?" I asked. "You know that's not really ethical unless it is an emergency type situation," I grumbled, as I tried to find a pen that would write. My favorite pen, the one with the chewed end, seemed to be missing in action. Another notch in Peggy's belt, I thought irritably.
"This was an emergency, since it compromises your relationship with Fitzhugh," he said. "Peggy was only thinking of the aesthetics of the library and thought, since you are absent a great deal, that it wouldn't matter to you."
"Well," I muttered, "I guess it helps to know it wasn't on purpose."
Fitzhugh appeared, his footsteps quiet and unexpected. I looked up and smiled, a rolled up sheaf of papers in my hand.
"Trying to get my head wrapped around this stuff again," I began, my voice superficially cheerful as I tried to suppress an inappropriate giggle.
"Oh, Petra, put that stuff down and talk with me," Fitzhugh replied. He looked better but still held an air of fragility. "The bottom line is that moving your desk was thoughtless and rude, and had I been thinking about your feelings, it wouldn't have happened. I am truly sorry." He paused and looked around. "And this is entirely unsuitable, because I'm now missing a chair that I can sit in when I consult with you or..." He drew the last sentence out in a dramatic pause. "Just visit," he concluded. "I plan on correcting the oversight."
I sat on the edge of my desk and beckoned him to sit in my chair. After a moment's hesitation, he did so. Fitzhugh was wearing the Irish sweater I'd given him; the knotted tie at his throat was slightly askew. Feeling bold, I leaned forward to straighten it and brushed a stray cat hair from one Lily feline from his collar. Kipp, seeing things were calmer, winked at me and trotted off, since he had a classroom full of youngsters waiting on him.
"I was angry, but I'm really not any longer," I said, hoping he'd hear my sincerity. "It's just a desk, and the location does not matter. You're here, and I need to be more flexible."
When I say I'm over something, I mean it, and I was gratified when we both arrived home that night that neither one of us mentioned the desk issue again. However, when I got to work the next morning, my desk was back in its old spot, with my stack of papers right where I'd left them the previous day.
Chapter 14
"So, Peter wants to make his first, uh, serious trip to experience the Great Locomotive Chase?" Philo asked, after I'd given him a brief outline. "He's not made the formal request yet," he added.
"No, but he will. He's still fine tuning his application since he wants it to be perfect. It may take him a year," I added, yawning without bothering to politely cover my mouth. I was sitting across from Philo, wishing there was not a desk there between us. The physical barrier felt odd and had only come about since his promotion.
"And why are you telling me this prematurely?" Philo asked, his heavy eyebrows rising in query. I noticed more and more gray flecking in the hairs. He looked tired, I thought, noticing dark stains beneath his eyes.
"Well, you're the boss, so I want to advocate for Peter." I t
ried to keep my voice neutral, my affect one of uninvolved innocence.
"On another matter, Peggy Shelton approached me about a transfer," Philo said, his dark eyes meeting mine. "She seems to think there is conflict in the library and would be better served in another location." Philo carefully moved a stack of papers from one side of the desk to the other. When he sat back in his desk chair, I heard it squeak in protest and almost offered to find him some WD40 before I saw the look on his face. He was not amused.
"I don't think she should leave," I replied after a moment's thought. "She is qualified and Fitzhugh likes her. It's rare he finds someone he enjoys."
"The issue is with Fitzhugh; he seems to be cold towards her, and you know how he is when he gets harsh," Philo said.
"I'll talk with him, and in the meantime why don't you see if you can convince her to stay." I startled myself in that I was sincere at that moment. Here was the chance to get rid of Peggy, and oddly I didn't want to see her go. Fitzhugh liked her, and she was talented. The problem was me and it boiled down to an ugly emotion–jealousy.
That evening, Fitzhugh and I sat across my small dinette table from one another after having finished some vegetarian chili that had been simmering in the crock pot all day. There is nothing better in cold weather than hot soup or chili, to my way of thinking. Kipp and Juno were full from their chicken and rice and both lay on the kitchen floor; Kipp seemed to be waiting for me to go ahead and do what needed to be done. Lily, after finished off the scraps in Juno's bowl, crawled between the two lupines and had fallen asleep on her back, her four paws stuck up in the air like a dead raccoon on the side of the road.
"Fitzhugh, Philo told me that Peggy wants to leave," I began. His bent head tilted up as he glanced at me. "I think that would be a huge mistake."
"You do?" he asked, his voice soft.
Outside, the wind was picking up and began that eerie howl that it acquires in the winter when there is no foliage to help brake its progression. There was humidity in the air, and the forecasters predicted snow and ice. The world was dark and full of anticipation.
"Yes," I replied, my voice gaining more force. "I fear that maybe your attitude has been influenced by my feelings," I said. It was getting harder to go on with him staring at me.
"And what are those, might I ask?" he said, tilting his gray head.
"This is hard...." I stammered. Kipp was looking up at me, prodding me like a red hot poker in the back of my brain.
"Go on," Fitzhugh urged.
"I've been jealous," I finally said. Gosh, that felt good to get it off my soul. Even as bad and even silly as it sounded, it was a relief to say the words.
Fitzhugh started to smile but caught himself and ducked his head while he regained his composure. I sat there, my lips trembling, as I crumbled a piece of cornbread to tiny shreds while waiting.
"It's been a long time since I've had an attractive female express jealousy towards me, so I am gratified," he said, nodding his head. "I knew you were uncomfortable, Petra, so I encouraged Peggy to leave. But I think the source of the problem is me, and the fact I've not bothered to see how all these disruptions have affected you. For example, the desk thing was done without any thought as to how you might feel about it."
"Do you think we can start over again?" I asked. "I would hate to see a qualified and very nice person leave due to my insecurity." Dipping my head, I finally managed to peek up and meet his eyes. "I know you like her, too, and would prefer she stay."
I was relieved the situation did eventually resolve itself, and I was able to return to the library and regain my focus. Peter and Elani completed and presented their application for a more complicated time shift to the Twelve, and it was accepted. The next thing I knew, the four of us were dispatched to Suzanne's work room for her to plan a wardrobe for Peter and me.
Remembering the stories I'd heard about Suzanne, I tried to keep my banter light. It was easy to tell that she was still somewhat listless, a hangover of sorts from her depression at her lost love. A pretty woman, with dark hair and flashing eyes, Suzanne had the air of a bohemian, but on that day, she seemed deflated. Her usual bright red lipstick had faded, and she'd drawn one cat eye line crooked so that one eye looked smaller than the other, almost as if she had a pirate's squint. However, she did hold out a cup of coffee when I walked in, knowing my tastes. Peter shook his head at her offer.
"1862...right?" she began. Looking over at me, she smiled. "Crinolines, Petra, your favorite."
"Ugh," I replied, looking down at Kipp and Elani who had found a spot from which to watch in amusement. Kipp always got by with a collar designed like a money belt to carry extra currency. I figured Suzanne would concoct something similar for Elani.
"This period is a challenge, in a fashion sense," Suzanne began. "Women's clothes contained a lot of fabric. The amount of fabric in one formal dress could contain twenty yards of material." She paused and added, "Your bustle bank is of no use since a bustle is a few years away."
Thoughts of the bustle evoked fond memories. It was a clever design constructed to carry concealed currency and had been used more than once. And then there were my leather boots designed by Suzanne. I almost sighed. Elani looked at Kipp and smiled as only a lupine can. I knew, without reading her thoughts what was on her mind–she was glad to be a lupine and not of my sort.
"Almost all women wore corsets, crinolines and very full skirts." Suzanne put down her coffee cup and pulled out a well-worn book with pictures of fashions over decades. She, as did everyone at Technicorps, had access to computers but still liked the feel of a tabbed and familiar book in her hand. "You've shifted to the 1860s during various points in the American Civil War, so you know the drill," Suzanne remarked.
I felt a grimace assemble on my face. I liked the comfort of jeans, sweatshirts, sweatpants, hoodies and the like. We were going to have to make some quick compromises, or I might just stay home. Indeed, I'd made several trips during the war era and dressed appropriately for the times but just felt a stubborn resolve come over me in a wave of rebellion.
"I'm not wearing a corset or a crinoline," I began, putting down my cup of coffee. Cutting my eyes over to Kipp, I was gratified to see him nod his support. "We're not going to be there very long, and I just refuse to be cramped into something where I can't breathe." I shrugged my shoulders. "And who's gonna know anyway unless they peek up my skirt?"
Suzanne sat down in her swivel chair and began to rock slightly, closing her eyes as she contemplated my dilemma. I was not her most difficult client but probably ranked up in the top tier.
"Why don't you go as a man?" Elani asked, tilting her head at me. "It would be a disguise, and since you are assuming a different character, what would be the problem?"
For a second, I thought she was trying to be funny before I realized she was serious. I glanced at Peter, who raised his eyebrows and shrugged his shoulders. Suzanne's eyes flew open in horror, since her mind had gone in the direction of full, hooped skirts and bonnets festooned with lace. But after the shock wore off, she smiled. At her core, Suzanne loved a design challenge.
"Why not?" she said, lifting her shoulders with a delicate shrug of surprising indifference.
Men's fashions were simpler and required much less physical bondage–since the despised corset was eliminated–and there was no reason why she couldn't dress me as she did Peter. After all, we predicted a quick in and out and would have very few interactions. We could keep my hair contained, my, uh, natural endowments under tight control, and I could wear a hat pulled down low so that much of my face was not visible.
It was not long before she'd sketched out the basics. Peter and I would both wear full length trousers, a frock coat, waistcoat and a white shirt with a stiff, upright collar. She lined the top part of my waistcoat with a compression fabric, much like a sports bra, that would keep me contained. Extreme stove pipe type hats were popular, but Peter and I both turned down that idea and he opted for the bowler, which was coming i
nto fashion. Mine was a slouch hat with a larger brim that dipped down in front, to conceal my face.
Why had I not thought of this earlier, I wondered? So much simpler than all the falderal associated with women's fashions, application of makeup and the like.
"I'm not sure William Harrow would have appreciated me as much if had been dressed like this," I remarked, as I looked at my reflection in the mirror of Suzanne's work room. I'd carefully tucked the dainty pearl necklace so that it was hidden beneath the stiff collar of the shirt. With deliberation, I tried to loop the wide tie until I had it secured, using an antique stick pin Suzanne supplied.
"He would have loved you if you arrived in a potato sack," Kipp replied as he gazed at me critically. "It's hard for me to think of you as a guy like me, so put on the hat and let's see how you look."
I wound my hair into a rope and tucked it on top of my head before settling the slouch hat, pulling the brim a little lower in front. Suzanne had constructed the body of the hat to accommodate my hair, which I planned on pinning in place. I did a little promenade back and forth and was in the middle of my cat-walk turn when Suzanne arrived.
"Looks pretty good, but I think your booty looks a little too big," she opined, looking at my posterior with eyes half closed. "I think I'll do something to the cut of the trousers to help diminish that feature."
"Great, thanks," I replied, my voice dull.
"I told you to lay off the ice cream," Kipp said, trying to not laugh. "And you might consider running an extra mile or so." The door to the work room opened, and Philo entered, accompanied by Fitzhugh. I raised my eyebrows at Suzanne, wondering what was up.
"I asked them to come by since this is a little more unusual, and I wanted plenty of critical review," she said, as she circled around me, using a piece of tailor's chalk to mark a couple of places for alterations.
The Great Locomotive Chase, 1862 Page 14