by Marja McGraw
I glanced skyward.
“Auntie, it seems you never threw a thing away, just like our relatives. I’ve got my work cut out for me. But first, some fun.”
Back in the attic, I pulled a few of the dresses, looking for one that might fit me. They all seemed to be for short, small women, until I found a skirt that might fit. I tried it on and it would have fit if I’d taken off my jeans. Off they came, and it was a perfect fit. I needed a blouse.
Looking around I saw a box that said “Blouses” on it. Perfect. Inside I found my choice of teeny tiny little blouses. Sighing, I remembered an old white blouse that had hung in my closet. It was probably in one of the boxes my dad had delivered.
Turning to leave, I stopped in my tracks. As long as I was in the attic, why not take the old crank phone down with me? I was taken with it and hanging it would give me something to do besides sorting through things.
Remembering the box that had aprons and cookbooks in it, I thought, what the heck? I opened it and pulled out an apron. It seemed to be a one-size-fits-all, so I put it on.
Careful not to catch the vintage skirt on anything, I walked carefully to the back of the attic where the phone rested. It was quite dusty, so I retrieved my jeans and wrapped them around it.
Remembering that my cell phone was in the jeans’ pocket, I pulled it out and slipped it in the large apron pocket.
The crank phone was heavy when I picked it up. I’d have to be careful on the stairs because I’d need both hands to carry it.
A wave of dizziness and nausea overtook me and I knew I needed to get out of the hot attic. My fingers were beginning to tingle, too. Was it really the heat? Or could I be coming down with the flu? I’d find out soon enough.
My skirt was long and my hands were full, so I pulled the skirt up and held it with the hand that was under the phone. The last thing I wanted was to trip on my way downstairs.
I set the crank phone on the kitchen sink and sat down at the table with a glass of water.
The sickly feelings I’d been having disappeared.
I studied the kitchen, trying to decide where to hang the phone. The most likely place seemed to be at the end of the sink, near the back door. Maybe that’s where it had originally hung.
The search for the box with my blouses didn’t take long, and before I knew it I’d taken off the apron, put on the blouse and replaced the long apron. After a look in the full-length mirror, I took off my tennis shoes, too. They looked ridiculous with the vintage clothing. With the heat, I didn’t mind being barefoot anyway.
Being an independent woman, I’d brought a tools, implements, nails and screws with me to the kitchen with me. I had a feeling, from the weight of it, that the phone would require Molly bolts to anchor the phone to the wall.
Yeah, I’m so independent, I thought. If it wasn’t for my father, I wouldn’t know how to do anything.
I knew I should change clothes before hanging the phone, but I was anxious to put it in its rightful place.
Rightful place? Uh, why would I think of that wall as where it belonged? Something didn’t feel right.
Why was I starting to feel so jittery?
Chapter Three
I shook off the jittery feeling, got a pencil, did some measuring, and marked the wall where I wanted to hang the phone. The only remaining problem was that the phone was so heavy. How was I going to hold it up and put in the Molly bolts at the same time?
For a moment I wished Sharon was still in the house.
A ladder might help. I could prop the phone on a step while I put in the bolts.
I walked out to the garage to look for the ladder and saw a neighbor walk by with a grin on his face while he looked me up and down. Oh, yeah, I still had on the vintage clothes.
“Lookin’ good, Carrie,” he hollered.
I laughed and waved. “I heard vintage clothing is coming back into style.”
He shook his head and kept walking. “Sorry about your aunt,” he said, looking back over his shoulder.
I knew all of my aunt’s neighbors because of her. She was one of those people who’d never met a stranger. She loved most of mankind.
Glancing across the street, I saw the Realtor putting up a Sold sign on the old Miller place. She turned and looked me up and down, too. I smiled and gave her a thumbs up as I pointed at the For Sale sign, then continued to the garage.
Carrying the awkward ladder, I returned to the kitchen and set it up, sliding it against the wall. I set the phone on the fourth step, but it was too high, so I moved it to the third step. Too low.
I pursed my lips, thinking. Ah! Books would do the trick, and setting the phone back on the sink, I headed for the living room and its bookcase. Two books should do it. I chose a thick dictionary and one of my own mystery novels.
I set them on the step and picked up the phone. My fingers began to tingle again, and I shook my hand, like that would put things right.
Ignoring the tingle, I set the phone on top of the third step with the books underneath.
“Perfect.”
The only problem was that the phone was too far away from the wall. I turned the ladder a bit and that seemed to work, for the most part. I’d have to use my shoulder as a backup. Huffing and puffing, I finally attached my crank phone to the wall, exactly where I wanted it.
That’s when I noticed that the front panel could be opened. Well, of course it could. There had to be somewhere to put phone parts, right? I pulled on the right side but it wouldn’t open. Taking a closer look, I saw hinges on the right and pulled on the left side.
It was stuck.
It became a challenge. I gently tried to pry it open with a screwdriver, and when that didn’t work I grabbed my hammer and used the claw end to open it. Just about the time I was ready to give up, the front flew open – and an aging, yellowed piece of paper fluttered to the floor.
Raising my eyebrows, I bent over and picked it up, shaking my hand as I did so. The tingly feeling was back.
“You need to come. There’s going to be another murder and I need help to stop it.”
It was signed simply, “G”. I sucked in my breath because it appeared to be in my great-aunt’s squareish handwriting.
“A murder? This doesn’t make sense. Why would Aunt Genny leave a note like this? She never, in all my years, ever mentioned knowing about a murder.” Who had she written the note to? My mind was full of questions, but there were no answers.
That’s when the phone rang. Not my cell phone, but the crank phone I’d just hung on the wall. The one that wasn’t connected to anything.
Ring, ring, ring. There was a pause before there were three more short rings.
It took a moment to take it all in. I lifted the ear piece from the phone and stared at it for a moment before listening.
“Hello?” My voice squeaked when I spoke into the mouth piece.
The tinny sounding voice of my aunt said, “I need you to come now, Carrie. Hurry.”
Two things happened simultaneously. The line went dead and dizziness hit me like a sledge hammer. The nausea wasn’t far behind.
I dropped the ear piece and sat on the floor, hard, closing my eyes and trying to breathe normally. I couldn’t do it.
My heart pounded and my head was throbbing. No, it was more like the veins were pulsating. The nausea increased and I closed my eyes tighter, trying to will the dizziness away.
It felt like a high wind was blowing through the house.
Not possible.
There was a feeling of vertigo, and then as suddenly as it had come on me, it stopped. I didn’t want to open my eyes because I was afraid it would start again.
~ * ~
It felt like a breeze brushed my face and there was a hand on my shoulder, gently shaking me.
Patricia must have come back and found me.
“Open your eyes very slowly, Carrie.”
I knew the voice, but something wasn’t right.
The hand started gently shaking my
shoulder with more vigor.
“Open your eyes slowly, and don’t be shocked by what you see.”
Huh? Don’t be shocked? The voice alone was throwing me for a loop. I was sure I recognized the sound of the woman speaking to me.
“Slowly?” I asked, my eyes flying open at the speed of light.
“Oh, dear,” the voice said. “I wanted you to take things in a little at a time.”
I looked up and my mouth dropped open. If I didn’t know better, I’d think the woman was… No, it couldn’t be.
“Close your mouth, sweetie. It’s not ladylike to stare with your mouth open.”
“But…”
“You always trusted me. Do it again. I’ll explain all of this to you.” She waved her arm in an arc, taking in our surroundings.
Glancing past the woman, my mouth almost dropped open again. I wasn’t sitting in my kitchen, nor was I with Patricia. I was sitting on the ground outside of the house. There was more. The white house was still white, but it looked almost new.
There were wet clothes hanging on a rope that was spread between two trees.
“Aunt Genny? It can’t be you. I mean, it really can’t.”
“It’s me, but call me Elsbeth. People will still call you Carrie, which makes life a little easier.”
“Have I died?”
She laughed. “No, sweetie. You’ve come a long way to help me – a long way in time, that is. You’ve traveled through time.”
“That’s impossible.”
Aunt Genny, or Elsbeth, or whomever she was, held out her hand to help me stand. I grasped it, bending my knees and pushing myself up with my other hand.
“You look like you did in the old photographs, except you’re dressed for the turn of the century – but you were born in the nineteen-twenties.” I took a step toward her, stepped on a rock and stumbled. Glancing down at my bare toes, I remembered taking off my shoes.
She steadied me with her hand, looking down at my bare feet. “Carrie, I have a lot to explain to you. Come with me and I’ll find you some shoes. Daniel and I will explain everything.”
“Daniel?”
“My soon-to-be husband.”
“You’re talking in riddles. I have no idea what’s going on. I think I must have fallen and hit my head and you’re part of my delirium.”
My great-aunt looked deeply into my eyes. “You traveled in time, Carrie. I simply did it first. I leaped into Elsbeth, and you leaped, thankfully, into your namesake, Caroline. Caroline was Elsbeth’s sister. There’s another sister, much younger, named Tess. She’s only nine. I’m twenty-five and you’re twenty-three.”
“I’m thirty-two, in case you’ve forgotten.” Yes, I had to be dreaming or in a coma or something.
“You were thirty-two in your other life. Now you’re twenty-five. Get used to it, Carrie. You’re living in Little Creek, Washington, in 1909 with your family. I’m your sister, not your great-aunt.”
“But…”
“No. You’re a mystery writer. If you can’t come to grips with what’s happening, then you might as well hang up your computer right now. Anything is possible, and we’re living proof.”
I threw my arms around the little pixie and hugged her. I couldn’t help myself. I started to cry. “I’ve missed you so much!”
“Don’t grieve for me, sweetie, because I’m right where I want to be.”
“But…”
“Please stop saying ‘but’. There’s a lot to explain and not a lot of time to do it.” She looked at my disbelieving face for a moment. “Let me prove something to you. Hold out your hands.”
I looked down at my hands like they were foreign objects.
Aunt Genny, or whoever she was, took hold and lifted my hands. “Open them.”
I did.
She reached into her pockets and brought out two objects, placing them in my hands and closing my fingers over them.
I curled my hands into fists and squeezed. Yes, I could feel something in my hands. I nodded.
“Good.”
I opened my fingers to see what she’d handed me. One hand held a modern household key. The other was clutched around an old key – the one I’d seen in my aunt’s hand when she passed away.
Pulling myself together and standing straighter, I said, “What the heck is going on here?” It was more of a demand than a question. “I don’t believe any of this.”
My aunt stepped in front of me, raised her tiny foot and stomped on my right foot.
“Ow!”
“Now do you believe me? Have you ever felt honest to goodness pain in a dream?”
I rubbed my foot and nodded. “Pain is a good indicator.”
Aunt Genny looked over my shoulder and smiled. “Here comes Daniel. We’ll go to the park where we can talk without worrying about being overheard.”
Taking hold of my hand, she pulled me along behind her and walked toward Daniel.
For a brief moment I realized I had to be losing my mind. It was probably a combination of the flu and grieving for my great-aunt.
The woman holding my hand was moving too fast and I stumbled again, falling to my knees.
It hurt. Lifting my skirt, I saw that I’d skinned my knee and I was bleeding.
I needed a pair of shoes, and I still held two keys.
This was real.
Chapter Four
“Let’s go to the park. Is it in the same place now as it is in the future?” I asked. I felt foolish even asking such a question. “And can I have some shoes?”
“Of course.”
Daniel strode to us and smiled, taking my aunt’s hands. “Elsbeth.”
All he said was her name, but there was something in his tone that made it the sweetest word I’d ever heard.
Her returning smile probably melted his heart.
I cleared my throat.
“Oh. Daniel, this is my niece, Carrie. Carrie, this is Daniel McGee. He sees you the way you really are, believe it or not.”
“The way I really am? What does that mean?” I needed so many explanations.
“I should have explained this part right away.” She took hold of my hand again. “Come with me.”
We walked back to the house and I followed her inside.
“No one is home right now, so we’re safe.”
Safe?
She pulled me along behind her and stopped in front of a mirror. “Take a look.”
Before I looked in the mirror, I took in my surroundings. I recognized a few pieces of furniture, and even some knick knacks. My aunt had hung on to a lot of family memorabilia.
Aunt Genny, or Elsbeth, took hold of my face and turned me toward the mirror. She stood next to me, so her reflection was next to mine.
My heart started to pound again. I didn’t see either one of us in the mirror. I saw two total strangers. One was an adorable little woman who slightly resembled my aunt, and yet it wasn’t her. She had strawberry blonde hair piled on top of her head, and the bluest eyes I’d ever seen. Well, at least that hadn’t changed. My great-aunt’s eyes were blue, too.
My reflection was of a woman I’d seen picture of, but it wasn’t me. We were both quite short, which wasn’t a change for my aunt, but it was for me. I had a pinched face, and it wasn’t anything to write home about. I thought how much make-up would do to help. My hair was loosely pulled back, and as I turned my head, I could see that it was in some kind of knot or bun at the nape of my neck. I was no longer a blonde, but had medium brown hair. My blue eyes were still blue, like my aunt’s.
My breathing became labored. Something unseen gripped my heart.
Elsbeth, the woman whom I saw in the mirror, patted my back. “This is the way people see us. We are Elsbeth and Caroline, women who lived in 1909. You and I see each other as ourselves, and so does Daniel. Odd, isn’t it?”
“That’s putting it mildly.”
She stepped away while I studied my reflection, returning with a glass of water and a pair of shoes. “Drink this. I know
just how you’re feeling. Your body will adjust in a few minutes. I know this is too much to take in so quickly. Need I tell you that I’ve been through this before? Before you were born, I made the journey in time.”
I gulped the water and choked.
“Now, now, sweetie. You’re only here for a little while, to help me, so get used to it and enjoy the ride.”
“Why do I have a feeling that it’s going to be a wild ride?” When I coughed again I sipped more water.
“Oh, Carrie. You’re here for a serious reason, but we’re going to have such fun together. Fun that we couldn’t have when I was an old woman. Now put on the shoes and let’s leave for the park.”
I had trouble tearing my eyes away from the mirror. I wondered if it was possible to act short when I knew I wasn’t. The woman in the mirror was much more delicate than the real me.
“Elsbeth?” Daniel’s voice came from the general direction of the back yard.
“We’re coming,” she called.
We met him outside and strolled to the park, which was much nicer than it had become over the years. It was fresh and new and people were picnicking under the trees. There was a bandstand where I assumed a band played, maybe on the weekends. In current times there was no bandstand. Just a lot of walls and graffiti. In the area where I often saw kids smoking, or drinking if it was after dark, there was a seesaw with two young girls giggling and going up and down, up and down.
My shoes pinched and I wished they were at least a size larger.
“Let’s get to it,” Daniel said. He had a deep, somewhat impatient voice. He spread a blanket under a tree, far from the other people. “We need to tell Carrie what’s going on and save your life.”
He held out his arm and Elsbeth placed her delicate little hand on it while he helped her sit. He was so tall next to her. He had to be at least six foot two to her four feet and eleven inches, if she was that tall.
Then he held out his arm to me and helped me sit on the blanket.
“Is it possible to act little?” I asked.
Elsbeth laughed. “Just be yourself, sweetie. Caroline was a bit of a klutz, too. No one will notice a thing.”