Give Me Tonight(11)

As the woman slipped an arm around her shoulders, Addie could detect the sweet fragrance of vanilla that clung to her, as well as the fresh starch in her linen morning-collar. The fanlike sweep of her skirts brushed against Addie's as she squeezed her shoulders affectionately.

"Why is everyone bein' so dreadfully serious?"

May asked, and her laughing gaze seemed to soften Russell's countenance. Ben's expression didn't change.

"We're waiting for Adeline to explain why she was two hours late in town," Russell said, much more ca­sual than before. "She cost us a lot of time and worry, May, and she's got to learn there's a time for games and a time for gettin' work done. But right now I want to know what she was doin' while Ben and Cade couldn't find her. "

Three pairs of eyes rested on Addie's face. She could hear a nearby clock ticking in the silence. She felt like a cornered animal. "I don't know," she said, her voice wavering. "I can't tell you because I don't know. The last thing I remember is being with Leah." Her voice broke as she tried to continue. It was all too much. She was too tired to face this any longer. "Leah . . .' The tension inside her snapped and she jerked her hand up over her eyes and she burst into tears.

She was vaguely aware of Ben leaving the room in disgust, and Russell's anxious promises of pocket money and bonbons to keep her from crying, and above all, May's soothing.

"I'm sorry," Addie choked, wiping her wet nose against the lacy frill of her sleeve, taking a handker­chief as it was thrust into her hand. "I'm sorry. I don't know what's happened. What have I done? Do you understand any of it?"

"She's overwrought. She just needs to rest," Addie heard May say, and she seized gratefully on the idea.

"Yes. I need to be alone. I can't think—"

"Everything's fine, sugar. Mama's here. Come up­stairs with me."

Submitting to the gentle coaxing, Addie started to follow her out of the room, her head downbent. She saw a calendar on the small desk by the door.

"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. "