But Not Forever Page 5

  “Emma. Did you hear me?”

  The serving fork clattered to my plate. I jerked my head over to Emma’s mother. “I’m sorry, no.”

  “I said we will picnic at the river tomorrow with Missus Rodgers and Miss Olive, and Missus Jenkins and Miss Pearl. I expect you to converse nicely with Miss Olive, unlike our last visit to their home. I heard back you hardly spoke a word to the poor girl, and her mother was immensely disappointed. The report back from Missus Rodgers was unacceptable.”

  “Yes . . . Mother.”

  “I do not need to remind you we are senior in this society. And with that seniority go certain responsibilities and duties. You shall be decent and observe the niceties and standards of our station, at all times. That means conversing politely with someone, whether you want to or not . . . and that includes Olive Rodgers. Do you understand me, Emma? Or will you find it necessary to tax my patience during our picnic outing?”

  Her words scratched at my brain. “Yes, I understand. I won’t tax your patience.”

  “Do you feel up to this? Are you quite well now?”

  “Yes, I am quite well, thank you.” I lifted my chin. The dead chicken on my plate was a friend compared to her. I took a small bite and forced myself to swallow.

  Thorn leaned from me toward her oldest son. “Would you like to go with us, my sweet? You are almost a big boy now that you will begin school next month. And Missus Rodgers is bringing William. He is just your age and will be in your class. It would be nice for you both to play together at the river. Missus Rodgers will be quite pleased if I bring you. She is aware of the status you bring her son.”

  Jacob shifted his eyes from his mother to me and back again. “Yes, Mother. I would like that very much. Can Miles come along?”

  “No. He still needs his afternoon nap.”

  “But, Mother . . .” Miles’s joyful little face wilted.

  “My love, you must take your daily nap. Next summer, when you are no longer four, you may go out with us in the afternoon, and not until then.”

  Case closed. Miles turned back to his gravy-drenched potatoes.

  She called down the length of the table to her husband. “We will pick blackberries for Cook, John. You know her delicious pies. Would you like that, dear?”

  His voice rumbled out to the lump of peas and chicken his knife had just smushed up onto the back of his fork. “Yes, Rose.” The perfect male mouth, almost buried by a thick, blond mustache, opened, and the upside-down fork with the mash went in.

  Rose ran her gaze across the top of her husband’s bent head as he took his silverware and prepared another bite. “And if we find enough berries, I will have Cook make jam for some of the miners,” she went on. “Perhaps Emma can deliver the jars. This will be a godly endeavor—so many are without wives. Emma, are you listening?”

  Jacob flinched at his mother.

  “Yes, I’m listening,” I said.

  “Fine, then. You will finish your peas tonight before I allow you a slice of chocolate cake. And sit up straight. Slouching does not become a lady.”

  I sat up. A gooey cake perched in a cut glass stand on the sideboard behind her poufy, blonde head. The heavy glass sparkled rainbow colors next to flickering candles and dangling gaslight. From where I sat, the cut edges on the stand appeared sharp.

  I would have to keep that in mind.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Emma

  2015

  Emma awoke with effort, as if pulling herself out of thick, black molasses. She found it difficult to open her eyes. Her limbs felt as heavy as tree trunks and her skin seared with cuts and bruises. She felt something next to her move. She sat up, blinking at a pair of small, devilish eyes across the room. Her heart jumped. She heard quiet steps advancing, steadily, stealthily, wickedly.

  This was not her bed. Had she been captured?

  As if of its own volition, her voice shrilled out of her tight, strangled throat, “Help!”

  A body rolled over and clapped a hand over her mouth before she could cry out again. Emma struggled to escape, but found her wiggling body pinned to the mattress. An arm swung out and around her, igniting a white ruffled light.

  “Shhh! Emma! Are you cracked? You’ll wake up my parents.”

  The lamp illuminated a girl with dark tousled hair. With a jolt, Emma remembered where she was. In Lia’s bed. In Lia’s room. In another world. “I saw a demon with yellow eyes—beyond the bed, over there. A terrible vision! I heard it clacking and clicking at me—”

  “Quiet down! That’s just my owl nightlight. And my cell phone. I probably have text messages coming in.” Lia held out her pointer finger at Emma for a moment, shaking it. “Stay put.” Sliding out her side of the white-canopied bed, she tapped her finger on the owl and held up a similar item as Emma had seen emitting light in Evan’s pocket that first day.

  “See?”

  Emma reached out and touched the slender box. It felt cool, like a china plate. She sat back against the pillow and clutched the neck of the pony-covered sleeping garment. Sonnet’s pajamas, borrowed for the night. “There are many things to educate myself on in this new life.”

  Lia yawned and joggled her hair, clawing it with her fingers, as if that would fix the snarled mess. “There are, and lucky for you I’m a good teacher. I’m just glad you finally woke up. You’ve been asleep for over twenty-four hours. We had to make sure someone babysat you during the day. We didn’t want you to wake up and get scared and go running through the house like a demented lunatic, scaring my mom and dad to death.”

  “I have never slumbered for two days!”

  “We just figured it was a major case of jetlag.” Lia smiled. “Time travel lag.”

  “You are speaking in riddles.”

  “Yes, well, I’ll tell you everything as we go along. I have one day to bring you up to speed on our modern life you know nothing about. And then we’re all meeting over at Rapp’s tomorrow, to come up with a switchback plan.”

  “Good. I am ready to go back. But right now, I’m famished. Would you mind ringing for a breakfast tray?”

  “Yeah, just ring for a tray of food. I wish.” Lia laughed. “But there aren’t any servants at this house. The sun’s coming up. Let’s go down to the kitchen and grab some breakfast. Then you can take a shower. You still have black gunk between your fingers and toes.”

  “Riddles, again. Shower?”

  “Sorry, I promise I’ll explain. Now, don’t forget who you are when my parents are around. They probably thought the person they knew as Sonnet was acting kinda goofy at the picnic. Just sitting there, tired, not saying a word and stuff. You’ll have to remember to call them Uncle Vince and Aunt Kate, okay? And act normal. There’s no formality around here.”

  Emma nodded. “Speak directly to adults. Act normal. I can do that.” She noted Lia’s rare beauty again. She had never met anyone as foreign as the Macadangdang sisters. It was as if she and Lia should be sipping tropical juice together on a hot, steamy beach instead of sitting on a bed in their sleeping garments somewhere in the modern city of Seattle. “Lia, are you and Niki and your father Tahitian?”

  “Tahitian?”

  “Are you Siamese?”

  “Huh?” Lia shook her head.

  “Oriental?” Emma felt her cheeks burn.

  “Are you trying to say Asian?”

  She had blundered. “I am not sure what I’m trying to say.”

  “My dad is Filipino. Which makes me and Niki half Filipino, half white.”

  “What is Filipino?”

  The smile disappeared from Lia’s face. In its place came a furrowed brow and something close to pity. “I can only imagine what’s going through your head right now. It’s like you’ve landed on the moon, isn’t it?”

  “I’m having a difficult time understanding much at all. I have never met the likes of you and your sister. The races are not known to mix in my time. We are not allowed to even speak of such a thing in polite company, and your family would ce
rtainly be banished. But I believe you and Niki are quite lovely with your darkened skin and golden olive eyes. Your mother and father have created a unique combination.”

  “Unique and lovely.” Lia’s smile returned. “Get used to diversity, Emma—it’s everywhere. And thanks for not banishing us.”

  Lia sat down on the floor and opened the lid of a slim trunk. “Now, what do you feel like wearing today? You can decide for yourself which of Sonnet’s clothes you like.”

  “Why does Sonnet have her apparel in a trunk?”

  “Trunk? You mean like a suitcase? Luggage? They don’t live here. Jules, Evan, and Sonnet are just here for the summer. A vacation from their lives in South Africa.”

  Africa? Emma stared at the clothes for a moment, processing the information. Perhaps their father was a missionary. She had heard of such a thing, religious men and their families traveling around Africa, bringing the word of God to the people. Jules and her brother didn’t strike her as the religious types, but this new world was topsy-turvy. Not wanting to appear naïve again, she swept her hand through the pile, and brought up a handful of clothes. “I should like this pink shift under a pretty dress.”

  “That’s not a shift to go underneath a dress. That is a dress. Considering, it’s probably way too short for you, though. But you could wear it as a top with jeans or shorts or leggings. We could even make it work with yoga pants, I suppose. We’ll start you slow so you don’t feel too crazed.”

  Emma had no idea what too crazed meant, but whatever it was, she was sure she was feeling it. She knew nothing of the words Lia had just rattled off regarding Sonnet’s wardrobe. But she would pretend to understand, and soon she just might. As if she were learning an expressive foreign language. Like Italian. “Yes, that will do. Are these Sonnet’s books?”

  “Yeah, you could say she’s a committed reader.”

  “Would she mind if I read them? I would handle them with care. I adore the written word. I spend much of my day reading.”

  “No, she wouldn’t mind a bit. If I know Sonnet, she might be reading your books right now. You should start with this one, though.” Lia slid Meth Zombies out of Emma’s hands and replaced it with Up a Hill with Thérèse Du Plessis, reading off the back cover. “Let’s see. This is about a French girl traveling around Vietnam in the late 1950s before the war breaks out, and she becomes a nun. A stranger traveling in a strange land, trying to figure it all out. Just like you. You can move on to the more lurid books as you get used to this place. I don’t want you to be freaked out.”

  “You are very thoughtful. I appreciate you not wanting to see me upset because of a frightening story. I assume freaked out has the same meaning as upset. I am learning!” Emma thumbed through the book before setting it aside. “Because of the black gunk, perhaps I should tend to my bathing now and then breakfast afterwards.”

  Lia led her down the hall to the bathing room and rummaged around in a drawer. She took out a pair of scissors, slicing the air with them. “It has to be done. Like Niki said, my mom has eagle eyes. We’ll cut your hair after you wash it.”

  “All right.” After what Emma had been through, losing five inches of hair seemed minor.

  Lia took a wall lever behind a smooth, slippery curtain, and pulled. Warm water from a round metal disc above their heads shot out in a perfect, steady stream into the porcelain tub. Emma would stand upright under the spray and wash herself, with the used water running down a drain to some unknown destination. It was a marvel.

  Lia instructed her. “Keep it mostly in the center here so that the water temperature is medium. See these red and blue marks? If you want it hotter, edge it toward the red. Colder, the opposite way toward the blue. Just do it incrementally, though. It doesn’t take much effort at all. When you’re done, push the lever back toward the wall like this. Here’s shampoo.” Lia put the container under Emma’s nose and flexed the soft material a few times, letting sweet coconut air dance across her face.

  And Emma knew, without a smidgen of doubt, she was sniffing heaven. “Divine!”

  AFTER a quick breakfast of toast and blackberry jam, standing like thieves at the kitchen counter, Lia and Emma strolled out to the sunny backyard in a quest for Lia’s mother. They found her kneeling on a cushion in the rose garden trimming away unruly shoots like a common gardener. Her own mother would be horrified at such a display of coarse pedestrianism coming from the lady of the house. But here sat Aunt Kate without a hat and in the dirt, casually pruning as if it were just one of her many female duties around the Macadangdang household.

  “We’re gonna go mess around today, Mom. Probably go downtown, maybe see a movie. We’ll be gone all day,” said Lia.

  “When will you be home? I was going to make tacos tonight. I’m just working a half-day.”

  “We’ll be back after dinner. But save some for us. We’ll be starving by then.”

  A daughter telling a mother what she was going to do. And they would be allowed to wander the city alone without a chaperone or escort. What a fascinating world Emma had been dropped into.

  “How about you, Sonnet?” asked Aunt Kate. “You’re awfully pale. Will you be okay?”

  “Yes, I will be . . . okay.” The sun’s rays shined directly on the rose garden and its gardener. Emma was struck by Aunt Kate’s coppery hair and familiar eyes. With a twinge, she realized the similarities between them and had to stop herself from reaching out and touching the freckled face.

  I will look like her when I am older.

  “Your arms are all bruised,” said Aunt Kate.

  “She fell in a ditch,” countered Lia.

  Eagle eyes, thought Emma.

  Charging down the wooden deck stairs beyond Aunt Kate’s head, a black ball of fur charged over the lawn toward Emma. It yipped and pawed and sniffed at her shoes. She stepped back, fright flooding her veins.

  As if she were an ax chopping down on firewood, Lia fell over Emma’s feet and gathered the writhing animal under her arm. “Silly dog.”

  Aunt Kate had turned back to a particularly long sprout. “Lia, put Peetie in the house before you leave. And grab a couple of apples and some breakfast bars to go. You girls will need something to munch on along the way. Have fun!”

  Lia’s unoccupied fingers reached out to Emma’s arm and tweaked, breaking into the chaotic moment. “Let’s go.”

  THEY spent the rest of the day on foot, touring landmarks and places Lia deemed important for Emma’s modernity lessons. Their first stop was a grand science building, entered through arches and pools and fountains, where Emma gawked at bewildering new gadgets and walked in a daze through a butterfly exhibit. They battled the masses and made their way further down the street, entering large tiered buildings and ascending levels on moving staircases, ambling through shops with every kind of clothing and shoes. To all this, Emma remained almost mute, so startled by the immenseness and noise and humanity pressing against her.

  In an old part of the city, Lia thought it would be fun for Emma to see how Seattle looked in her time. “These were probably important businesses in 1895. Just think, if you had come here, you would have seen these buildings when they were new.”

  Emma imagined the old buildings had most likely held saloons and whorehouses and nefarious gambling operations. She changed the subject by pointing at a totem pole sitting in a small grassy park in the middle of the street. “That object, there, is especially fascinating. Last May, I saw the same type of carved poles in an Indian encampment during a long carriage trip to a stallion farm. In fact . . .” She smiled. “Our horse and carriage driver is an Indian of the nicest sort.”

  “You need to say Native American. Not Indian.”

  Emma had tried to impress Lia with her understanding of diversity, but had failed. Would it take forever to learn the language?

  Their last stop was the Cinerama Theater, where they sat in the dark, ate buttered popcorn, and watched the film, Mockingjay. Instead of being “freaked out,” Emma kept her eyes
and her ears open to the sensory assault, telling herself this lesson was a necessary example in understanding the future of the world.

  As she came out of the theater with her ears still ringing and her heart still breaking, the sun had set, and Emma had thoughts of the white-canopied bed. “I am generally driven in a carriage. Walking from place to place is frowned upon for someone of my class. In other words, Lia, my feet are weary.”

  Lia nodded. “That’s fine. We’ll head for home. You’re up on it now. Immersed and ready to go.”

  Emma had nothing to judge her readiness by, so she believed Lia and let her put them on a bus and lead the way back to the Macadangdang house under a darkening sky and an almost-full moon.

  Lia walked straight to the kitchen. “I’m so hungry. Let’s get those tacos.” They rooted around in the refrigerator and found the leftover food from the evening meal.

  At the kitchen counter again, but sitting on it this time, they ate the strangely spiced food directly off the platter Lia had placed between them. Finished, Emma jumped to the floor behind Lia and tottered upstairs where she promptly put on Sonnet’s pony pajamas and climbed into bed. It was good she was getting her sleep. She had a big day tomorrow with the rest of her new friends. They would search for a way to get her home.

  “Good night, Lia. Thank you for the extraordinary day. My head is stuffed full of all your lessons, and I believe I will do just fine now. Immersed and up on it. Ready to go.”

  And just maybe, she would get to see Aunt Kate again. Aunt Kate, who noticed her pale face and bruised arms and worried that she might be hungry.

  Yes, if she was lucky, she would see her again tomorrow.

  Emma reached for the white-ruffled lamp on her side of the bed, found the little black button, and pressed it, extinguishing the light—just as she had seen Lia do earlier that morning.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Sonnet