"Wait," she said, breathing in shallow gasps as she saw the black numbers printed on the ivory paper. "Wait, She was afraid to look. But she had to. Even if it was a dream, she had to find out. The year. What was the year?
May paused in the doorway, while Russell stood behind her, both of them plainly confused by her behavior. Addie moved closer to the desk and ripped the top sheet off the calendar, holding it with hands that trembled so badly she could hardly read.
I880
The room reeled around her for one dizzying moment. "Is this right?" she asked hoarsely, extending it to May, who took it and read the date in an interested manner that was clearly intended to humor her. Addie waited with tightly clasped hands.
"No, it isn't right, sugar," May finally said. "This was two days ago." She walked over to the calendar and ripped off another sheet, crumpling it neatly and dropping it into the basket next to the desk. "There," she said with satisfaction. "Now we're right back on schedule. "
"Eighteen-eighty," Addie breathed. Fifty years ago. That’s impossible. I can't have gone back fifty years.
"Last time I checked, it was," May said cheerfully. "Now, come on upstairs, Adeline. You have no idea how tired you look. I've never seen you like this."
I880. Oh, yes, this was a dream. It could be nothing else. Numbly Addie followed her to a bedroom with fringe-trimmed curtains and elaborate flowered wallpaper. A brass bed with embroidered sheets and downy pillows was positioned between two windows. On the nightstand was a small crystal vase filled with wildflowers.
"Take a little nap, sugar," May said, pushing her gently toward the bed. "You're just tired, that's all. You can have a nice rest for a couple of hours. I'll have Leah wake you up."
Addie's pulse quickened. Leah was here? That couldn't be true. "I'd like to see her now."
"Rest first."
In the face of May's gentle insistence there was nothing Addie could do but take off her shoes and lie down on the bed. Her head sank into the softness of a pillow, and she turned her face into it with a grateful sigh, closing her burning eyes.
"Thank you," she mumbled. "Thank you so much."
"Feel better now?"
"Yes. Yes, I feel better. I just want to fall asleep. And never wake up. "
"I'll go downstairs and have a talk with your daddy. We won't talk about this afternoon anymore, not if it makes you upset. You know he'd never do anything to make you cry. Why, he'd get you the sun and moon if you wanted them. "
"I don't want the sun and moon." Addie whispered, barely aware of the light hand that smoothed her hair repeatedly. "I want to be back where I belong."
"You are where you belong, sugar. You are."
"Adeline? Aunt Adeline, it's time to wake up." A loud whisper broke into her slumber.
Addie awakened with a start, sitting up and squinting through the room. The walls were tinged a peach color as the setting sun cast its light through the windows. "Who is it?" she asked thickly, pushing her disheveled hair away from her face.
There was the sound of a little girl's giggle. "It's me. Grandma told me to wake you. "
Addie blinked to clear her vision. A child approached the bed, a skinny girl with gray eyes and long black braids.
"Leah," she said hoarsely. "Is that you?"
Another shy giggle. " 'Course it is."
"Come here. Come closer." The child hopped onto the bed beside her, and Addie touched one of her braids with a trembling hand. Her heart ached and her lips pulled at the comers with an unsteady smile. Good Lord, it is her. Leah! She had never been so stunned in her life. The woman who had raised her, disciplined her, fed and clothed her, given her pocket money, was standing right in front of her. But she was a little girl. She could see Leah in this child's face, could hear Leah in her voice. "Yes, it is you. I can see it. Tell me how old you are."
"I'm ten. My birthday was last month. Don't you remember?'
"No. I don't remember," Addie said huskily. "Why are you crying, Aunt Adeline?"
For you. For me. Because you're here and still lost to me. "Because I love you s-so much." Giving in to a powerful urge, she put her arms around the little girl and held her tightly. It didn't make her feel any better. Uncomfortable and bashful, Leah tolerated the embrace for only a few seconds before making a move to pull away. Immediately Addie let go and wiped her eyes.
"We're having fried chicken for dinner," Leah said.
"Your dress is all dirty. Are you gonna change?"
Addie shook her head slowly, wondering when all of this would end.
"Aren't you even gonna fix your hair?"
"M-maybe I should." Sitting on the edge of the bed, Addie jerked on her shoes. There was an ivorybacked brush on the painted dresser, and she pulled it through her hair after plucking the pins from the tangled mass. Same face, she noted as she looked in the mirror. Same eyes, same hair. "Leah," she said desperately, turning to face the little girl, "do I look the same to you as I always have? Is there anything different about me? Anything at all?"
Leah seemed puzzled by the question. "No. Nothin' is different. Do you want something to be?"
"I'm not sure." Addie faced the mirror again and brushed until her hair was smooth. She couldn't manage any styles as elaborate as those she had seen that day. Using a few hairpins, she pulled the front locks away from her face and let the rest fall down her back. After smoothing her bangs, she set the brush down and squared her shoulders. "I'm ready to go down now."
"Like that?"
"Yes. Is there anything wrong?"
"I guess not."
As they went downstairs, Addie noticed how beautiful the house was. The furniture was polished and elegant, draped with lace table covers and embroidered tidies for all the chairs and sofas. The curtains were made of expensive coarse linen in shades of chocolate brown and Thrkish red, while the carpets were boot-heel deep. The appetizing smells of food and coffee wafted through the air, awakening Addie's appetite and reminding her she hadn't eaten in a long time.
"There aren't going to be any leftovers when I get through with dinner," she said, aware that her stomach was beginning to growl insistently.
Leah wrinkled her forehead. "There aren't gonna be what?"
"Leftovers," Addie said, and as the girl continued to look confused, she realized the word wasn't familiar. "Extra food."
"Oh." Leah's brow cleared. They neared the dining room and the sound of easy conversation and clinking dishes. As they came to the doorway, all sound vanished. Everyone was staring at her. Even Cade had paused in mid-bite. The room was filled with people, most of whom seemed to be family members.
Addie's attention was drawn to a pair of icy green eyes, and she saw that Ben Hunter was seated at Russell's right hand. Ben was looking at her with subtly veiled contempt. His glance encompassed every detail of her appearance, the loose hair and flushed face, the warm and tumbled picture she presented, and a cynical smile touched his mouth. What was wrong? Why was everyone looking at her like that?