Amanda stood still for a moment, looking around her. An oil lamp in the middle of a small table shed a rosy pool of light. A cast-iron stove stood in place of the more familiar gas stove, and there was no porcelain sink with or even without its ancient plumbing. Some sort of pump was attached to a deep metal tub that apparently served as the sink. A brick fireplace stood at one end of the kitchen; in it a pot was slung over small flames.
Amanda closed her eyes briefly, then opened them again, hoping it would clear her vision and restore things to normal. No such luck.
"Pay no mind to Jesse," Deborah said as she put a copper kettle on the stove. "He's a bit protective since all those Yankees came through here a few days ago. We'd like to keep Oakleigh intact."
"Oakleigh-" Amanda drew in a deep breath. Oakleigh. Of course. There must be some vital information she needed to know. Maybe that was why-incredible as it might seem-she had somehow traveled back in time. She didn't know how, but if she could find out why, maybe this would all make sense and she could do what she'd obviously been sent back to do. "Are you one of the Brandons or the Scotts?" she asked Deborah.
Deborah gave her a shy smile. "Scott. That's why I'm here at Oakleigh."
Amanda nodded. "All right. That's a start-wait. Deborah-Captain Jordan. Are you Deborah Jordan Scott?"
With a perplexed smile, Deborah nodded. "Why, yes. Is your memory coming back?"
Drawing in a deep breath, Amanda murmured, "Let's just say it's coming in bits and pieces. You're from Memphis, too, then."
"Yes, but I've been in Holly Springs since right after Memphis fell to the Federals. I'm sure you understand why I had to leave Memphis."
"Yes, I think I do. If I remember my history correctly, the wives of Confederate officers were held hostages of a sort against the actions of the Rebel army."
"Well, when I left Memphis, it was before I married Michael. The Federals were well aware of my brother's activities, however, so I was often taken before General Grant to be questioned."
"Grant? I thought it was Washburn-"
"Grant was commanding officer when I was still there. As I said, I've been in Holly Springs since Jesse managed to get me past the sentries out on Pigeon Roost Road."
"Pigeon Roost? I remember-Highway 78 used to be called Pigeon Roost Road because of all the pigeons that roosted in the trees there." Aware that Deborah was looking at her curiously, Amanda shrugged and added hastily, "Your brother must be very adroit at sneaking past sentries."
"Jesse?" Deborah smiled. "He's wonderful. That's why they call him the Hawk-because he can get into and out of places that most men can't."
"The Hawk? He sounds dangerous."
"He is. General Forrest has used him many times to- well, I suppose it's common knowledge, and anyway, we need to fix them some coffee. These discussions can go into the late hours, and the general looked exhausted. No, don't try to help. You look tired, too."
Amanda plopped down on a three-legged wooden stool that she had never seen before. Her head was still spinning, and she felt very weak. Plucking at the folds of the borrowed robe, she tried to gather her wits. She retraced her steps of the past hour, from fighting boredom and heat in the bedroom to trying on the gown in the attic. After several moments of silence, she glanced up to find Deborah gazing at her curiously. None of this should be happening. It was too incredible, like something out of a bad movie.
"Are you unwell?" Deborah asked softly, and the question provided Amanda an explanation that sounded plausible.
"Well… I did faint earlier. Perhaps that's why I'm still having trouble making sense of things. Maybe I have a concussion. Or temporary amnesia. That would explain why I don't remember things so well, wouldn't it?" Her voice trailed into hopeful silence.
Deborah took some cups from a cabinet. "Poor thing. It would certainly explain it. Your visit here is quite unexpected, you know. General Washburn evicts ten wives of Confederate officers from Memphis every time our boys fire on one of his men, so I suppose not even widows are safe. Your journey must have been… quite harrowing." She paused delicately, as if waiting for Amanda to elaborate.
Though Amanda knew a response was expected, she had no idea what she could say. After a moment, Deborah continued as if the silence were not at all strained. ' 'Jamie said nothing about your arrival to me before they left to rejoin Forrest, and he is very good about keeping me informed." Deborah gave a slight smile. "If you've been in recent contact with him, you must know that things were rather awkward right after Michael and I were married. I suppose it's only to be expected, as I was betrothed to Jamie at one time, but still, it was a strain. I'm glad it's behind us now."
Amanda could feel her head whirl again. The clue to the reason for her improbable journey had to be hidden in the family feud. But there didn't appear to be a feud. Was she here to prevent one from happening? It took her a moment of silent struggle before she asked hesitantly, "By Jamie, do you mean James?"
Deborah nodded. "Yes. I still call him Jamie, just as I did when we were children. Oh, I shouldn't go on about my own affairs. Not when it's obvious you must have had a dreadful time. I shall give Tangie a proper scold in the morning for not waking me when you arrived. I hope she gave you the guest room, and made certain there are clean linens on the bed. Is everything suitable?"
"Suitable. Yes. Yes, of course." Amanda had no idea what she was saying. She knew a response was expected, but as everything else was so surrealistic, it probably didn't matter what she said. She stood up. "I think I'll go back to bed. Maybe if I go to sleep, when I wake up everything will be normal."
"I hope so. As normal as things can be these days." After a brief silence, Deborah said, "Forgive me, but I'm afraid I never asked your given name. I feel very foolish, for I'm sure that Jamie must have mentioned you at one time or the other, but I fear that I cannot recall it."
"Amanda."
"Oh, my, you must be one of the English Brandons. But you don't sound a bit English…"
"English-oh, yes. I'd forgotten about the English Brandons. From somewhere in Somerset, weren't they?"
Deborah stared at her for a long moment. The sudden piercing shriek of the kettle broke the silence, and Deborah gave a startled jerk. "I'll make the coffee. I think perhaps I should send for Dr. Higdon in the morning."
"Now, wait a minute." Amanda paused. Her head began to throb, and she felt slightly nauseous. Maybe she should see a doctor. She didn't feel at all well. She looked up to see Deborah gazing at her with a worried frown.
"All right," she agreed faintly. "I think you're right. I should see the doctor."
"I'll light the way to your room," Deborah offered in a kind voice as she took the kettle off the fire. "Candles are in rather short supply, I'm afraid. I'll bring you up some tea to help you sleep just as soon as I take General Forrest and his officers some coffee. I imagine they need it greatly, if the little I overheard is true. Poor men. Some of them are still bloodied from the battle."
"The battle? Oh. Yes. I forgot. Brice's Cross Roads." Amanda allowed Deborah to lead the way to the main staircase. The handrail glowed with soft luster curving to the second floor with a gratifying familiarity. It was the same house that she'd always known, though subtly changed. The plaster frieze over the parlor door looked bright, and the wallpaper was no longer faded and dull. The wooden floors were bare and glowed with a rich, deep finish. So this was how the house had looked when it was still fairly new. She was grateful she had this opportunity to see it- and perhaps save it. All she had to do was figure out how.
The bedroom Deborah took her to was not the room she'd occupied earlier, but Amanda remained silent. As Deborah turned down the coverlet and helped her out of the robe and into bed, the story of Alice Through the Looking Glass came to Amanda's mind. That's how she felt. As if she'd stepped through a mirror and into a parallel world where things looked the same but nothing was as it should be. All she needed now was to see a white rabbit. Or a Cheshire cat.