Fated Memories (9 page)

“I wondered about that myself. I have a hunch we all blacked out because neither Simon nor I remember anything after that tousle in the parking lot either.” Maggie paused, mulling over the possibilities. “Y'know, I wouldn't put it past Doyle to bribe the waitress into drugging us, then after staging that fight, he and his friends carrying us off and dumping us in the middle of nowhere. That might explain why we threw up, too.”

“Oh my God, you’re right. Why was he out there anyway? We’d left him at the table.”

“Exactly. You know, he's been chasing me for months and I've been ignoring him. I'll bet he got jealous seeing me with Simon and pulled this dirty trick for spite.” Maggie slammed her hand on the counter. “Wait till I get my hands on him, I'm gonna wring his conniving little neck.”

“Okay Lucy, you take his neck, I'll aim a little lower.” Despite their jest, something still nagged at the back of Maggie’s mind that she couldn’t pinpoint. Something didn’t smell right, and it wasn’t their vomit. The last thing she needed, though, was for Kitty to go into one of her frenzied meltdowns and get them shot. She’d best stay positive and not let on that she had misgivings.

Back in the kitchen, they found Simon sitting at the table, his face pale and worried. He’d spent the last several minutes defending their virtue. Mr. Blandford had put the rifle away and now drummed his fingers, signaling for everyone to be seated so he could dive into his breakfast. Pewter platters of fried eggs with thick slices of bacon, fresh made biscuits, a steaming bowl of baked beans and a pot of hot coffee waited on the table to be devoured. They tried to be polite and take small portions, but it tasted so good, their hunger got the best of them. They drank the coffee black in their little tin cups and gorged themselves on the butter and honey, slathering it over the biscuits. While everyone else ate, Mrs. Blandford sat off in the corner absorbed in the task of sewing extra lengths of fabric onto her daughter’s old dresses.

Aside from the sound of their munching and the occasional compliments to the chef, the table remained quiet. Kitty broke the silence. “So Mr. Blandford, your wife tells us your daughter is a military nurse. My older sister is a nurse and I've been working in a hospital for the last several years myself. It seems we have a lot in common.” 

Still scowling, Blandford considered Kitty’s statement with his fork suspended in mid- air. “I doubt that, but it’s good to know. They’ll need you up there.”

Up there? Up where? What the hell did he mean by that?
Simon’s eyes stayed glued to his plate and Maggie shook her head at Kitty’s skyrocketing eyebrows. This guy would never win any personality contests, but at least he wasn’t calling them whores anymore.

After breakfast Mrs. Blandford led them to a tiny bedroom to try on the dresses and the undergarments she’d laid out.  

“This is my daughter’s room.” Mrs. Blandford’s wistful fingers stroked the end rail of the old and chipped white iron bed. At first Kitty felt sorry for her and then for her own mother who’d also had trouble adjusting to an empty nest. That is until she remembered the role-playing gimmick. 

“What’s your daughter’s name, Mrs. Blandford?”

“Aurora. That means sunrise you know.”

“How beautiful, is she your only child?”
Oops, I guess I hit a nerve.

Mrs. Blandford’s face dropped by a mile. “We lost our son early this month in Virginia. He’s buried up there on the hill behind us. We’re told he was a brave soldier, but that’s little consolation for his loss. His death made Aurora offer her services to the army, to honor his memory and support his comrades. I only hope we won’t be burying her alongside her brother.” She retrieved a wrinkled and balled up handkerchief from her pocket, dabbed her watery eyes, and sucked in a deep breath, re-gathering her dignity. “I’ll just give you ladies some privacy so you can change. Unless you need help?”

“No, no, that’s quite all right,” Maggie assured her. “We’ve been dressing ourselves for a long time now. I’m sure you have things to do.”

As Mrs. Blandford closed the door behind her Maggie and Kitty marveled at the melodramatic performance they’d watched. “Oh, my heavens, look at the clothes she left us, they’re period costumes the same as hers, and so authentic.” Maggie got that Lucy look on her face and Kitty knew she was getting ready to launch a scheme. “So Ethel, what do you say? Want to be part of the re-enactment?” She flaunted one of the dresses in front of her. “It’s what Simon came to Harrisburg for in the first place and now we can join in as well. I’ve never done it before, but I’ve seen hundreds of people coming to join in year after year, so it must be fun or else why would they keep on doing it?”

“Your Lucy logic scares the hell out of me, but okay. I guess I’m learning to trust you on the ‘fun’ part.”

Kitty let Maggie think she talked her into this though, in reality, adrenaline rushed through her veins at the thought. They’d be like kids again playing dress up and prancing around pretending to be their great-great grandparents. At least it wasn’t something that would get them arrested or killed doing like Lucy’s—uh, Maggie’s—other schemes.

It was such a relief to peel off the grungy clothes. The push-up bra Kitty wore had wires poking into her ribs that drove her crazy. They put on the costumes in the order they found them, starting with the craziest underpants the girls had ever seen. The legs reached their shins and the waistband tied with a drawstring, but the back was slit open without a middle part. No crotch, just legs and a waistband. They nearly burst from trying to keep their laughter from being heard in the next room. Over that went a full-length, loose cotton slip with short sleeves, topped by a front laced corset with shoulder straps. The corset was made of sturdier cotton than the slip and inset top to bottom with corded stays. 

“Great, I get to trade the pushup bra’s underwire for stays that go all the way to my hips.” Once she got it on though, it wasn’t that bad. “The support actually feels good as long as I don’t breathe too hard. I wonder if this corset is the nineteenth-century version of Spanx.”

Maggie admired herself in the mirror stand from every angle. “I hope Simon gets to see me in this before we go home. I think it’s sexy. Maybe I’ll send away for one of those fancy ones I’ve seen in catalogues for those ‘special’ moments. After all, he did call me his wife.”

Kitty started to ask what Simon had whispered to her when Mrs. Blandford knocked at the door. “Are you ladies ready? Mr. Blandford wants to be leaving in a few minutes so if you don’t hurry you might miss your ride.”

“Oh, yes, okay, we’re almost ready. Quick, Kitty, put on the petticoats and the dress. We can pin up our hair in the car.”

They hurried to button, lace and squeeze themselves into their costumes, and stashed their dirty clothes into the linen sack Mrs. Blandford had supplied. Their dresses came with a large pocket sewn on the inside, reachable through a slit in the skirt, and that’s where Maggie hid her locket for safekeeping. Kitty copied her good sense, depositing the jade earrings in her own pocket. 

Costumed and ready, they arrived outside in time to see Mr. Blandford hitching two horses up to an open wooden wagon with a high bench for the driver while Simon waited on the porch. “Really, no car?” Kitty asked. “Okay, let’s hear it for authenticity.” Simon still wore his now scuffed and stained khaki Dockers and blue shirt, but his face paled with worry. 

His obvious discomfort concerned Maggie. “Simon, are you okay? Are you sick? I can ask Mrs. Blandford if she can get you something if you want.”

“No Mags, don't. I'm not sick. At least I don't think so. Something is wrong though and we need to talk, in private, as soon as possible. It's nothing dangerous. Only strange. When the three of us are alone we can discuss it. Just keep going with the flow for now.”

Simon helped the women up into the bed of the wagon where they sat on top a pile of quilts surrounded by baskets of fruits and vegetables, then climbed into his place on the bench. Mr. Blandford met Simon's attempt at conversation with occasional one-word responses. After several minutes of that, Simon gave up and leaned back.

The sun had risen higher in the sky now with only a few clouds to block its welcomed warmth. Kitty lay back and relaxed. If this was Doyle's doing as Maggie said, then his little scheme backfired because they were making the most of this adventure. Still, she wondered what had Simon so upset, and why he wanted to talk to them in private.

A
fter a brief, bumpy ride, Mr. Blandford maneuvered the wagon up to the guard post at the tall wooden fence. He advised the sentry on duty that he carried supplies and enlistees for the camp and was waved inside the gate.

“I wonder where we are.” Maggie scanned the sea of canvas and smoking campfires for a sign or familiar landmark. “I've never seen this place before. I had no idea the people who ran this gig were so organized. Look at all these tents, there’s got to be over a thousand people here. It’s going to be so exciting to be a part of this.” With a delighted giggle, she squished Kitty’s shoulders in a tight hug.

The three of them dismounted from the wagon into a slushy muck that oozed through their bare toes, making them wince with disgust. It seemed setting the camp somewhere that had paved roads wasn’t realistic enough for these actors. They found themselves in front of a large teepee shaped tent that opened wide in the front. The sparse office furnishings included a wooden desk, a side table, a bookshelf, two chairs and a wood stove in the middle. Two soldiers in full Union regalia maintained their posts as an officer rose to greet their driver.

“Mr. Blandford, it’s good to see you again sir. And you've brought more desperately needed donations for our men. That’s wonderful, our sincerest thanks to you and your wife for your continued generosity and support. We're forever in your debt, sir.”

The three passengers tried to thank Mr. Blandford for his help as well, but he ignored them, speaking straight to the officer instead. “Got another enlistee for you here, too, and these whores say they're nurses.”

Blood burned in Kitty’s ears as she whirled to face her accuser. “Why you mother-fu...” Simon's hand came out of nowhere leaving her sprawled on the ground in shock. Simon bent to help her up and whispered through gritted teeth. “You can't use that language here, you're gonna get us all in trouble. Just be quiet for Christ's sake and let me do the talking.” Blandford smiled for the first time, displaying a mouthful of yellow teeth as he drove the horses to the supply tent.

The officer stood by with his mouth hanging open and eyes bulging, watching the kerfuffle. “Please sir, you'll have to forgive my sister. She suffers from an unusual affliction that makes her lose control and blurt out the most outrageous obscenities to the embarrassment of our whole family. The doctors call it Tourette's syndrome and we've learned that the only way to stop the flow of filth is a sharp blow to the mouth shocking her back to her senses.” He sent her a withering look, daring her to say anything.

The officer bought Simon’s explanation, but issued an ominous warning that would have a lasting effect on them. “There’s an insane asylum on the east side of the camp where she might get help, but, if your sister's to stay in this camp, she must behave herself. Commander Biddle doesn't approve of the men using foul language, and he certainly won’t put up with it from the women.”

An insane asylum?
That got Kitty’s attention.
Tourette’s or not, I’m not the one who’s insane here.

“Biddle? Did you say Commander Biddle?” Maggie’s head wheeled around, her eyes flashing from one side of the camp to the other and then back at Simon in disbelief. 

Simon seemed to read her mind. “I don't know. We'll need to discuss it later.”

Meanwhile, the officer went back to his desk and asked their names to record in his log. Back on her feet, Kitty noticed that he was a short man, as the two other soldiers in the tent towered over him. Unkempt long, dark hair floated around his head in disarray, and a full beard and moustache covered most of his face like Mr. Blandford. 

“My name is Simon Reiger, sir, and the ladies are my sister Kitty and my wife Maggie.”

Kitty thought the officer might fall over backwards as he looked up at her. “Yes,” he drawled studying her up and down, “I can see the resemblance. I guess size runs in your family.” The officer drew himself back to the matter at hand. “Well, Mr. Reiger, ladies, welcome to Camp Curtin. Where are you from?”

“Wellsboro, sir, Tioga County.”

“A northerner, splendid. We have a regiment of soldiers from the northern counties who call themselves the Bucktails. Sharpshooters, every one of them. Are you good with a rifle, Mr. Reiger?”

Simon swallowed hard as his pallor faded once again. “Y’yes sir”. Simon must be impressed by this man, Kitty guessed, to be so shaken.

“Well, sir, the Union thanks you for your support and desire to preserve our great nation. Corporal Barnes, find Mr. Reiger and his family suitable quarters while they await induction. And see that the quartermaster issues them shoes, I won’t have any volunteers walking around the camp barefoot.”

“Yes, sir, Colonel Kane.”

“Colonel Kane?” Simon cleared the high-pitched squeak from his voice.

“Yes, Mr. Reiger?”

“N… nothing, I…, thank you sir.”

***

With the first order of business being shoes, Corporal Barnes led them back around towards the front gate to the Quartermaster’s office. Simon and the corporal walked a few feet ahead of the women in deep conversation. Although the corporal did most of the talking and Simon just nodded. Barnes stood over six feet tall, and Kitty guessed his age to be sixteen or seventeen. Pale blond hair stuck out from under his hat and his light eyelashes were almost invisible. At least he didn’t have as much facial hair as the other men in the camp. It amazed Kitty that any of them could even eat around all that hair. If Barnes had grown a beard though, it might have gone a long way to cover the pock marks on his face that Kitty assumed were remnants of a raging case of acne.
Poor guy, I can sympathize.
The most distinguishing feature, though, the one that caught Kitty’s attention the most, was the enormous Adam’s apple that kept bobbing up and down in his neck as he spoke. She found it very distracting and kept wanting to reach out and grab it to make it stop.

Once inside the wood shack that served as the supply office, Corporal Barnes relayed the colonel’s orders to the desk clerk. “Will you women be working in the hospital or the laundry?” the clerk wanted to know.

The laundry was out. As far as they’d gone to keep this authentic, it was a sure bet there were no washing machines or dryers here and Kitty had no intention of hand washing anyone’s dirty drawers. She could do first aid for a few days though. How hard could that be? Maggie and Kitty nodded to each other in agreement. Hospital.

“Well then Aunty Jackson will supply you with what you need there. I’ll just get you the basic camp supplies.”

“And shoes, don’t forget the shoes,” Kitty called after the clerk. “Anything you have in a ladies’ size ten, preferably something without too high a heel.” The clerk ignored her and continued towards the back room. The others gaped at her in stunned silence.

“What, I’ve got big feet okay? I want to make sure I get the right size.”

Moments later the clerk returned with a pile of stuff for each of them. They each got the same exact pair of plain brown leather ankle boots that laced up, two pairs of brown woolen socks and a messenger bag he called a haversack containing a frying pan, a canteen, a tin plate, cup and utensils. A blanket was folded on top of each pile. 

Kitty’s cold, wet feet were crusted with mud from walking through the camp. “I’m not putting these on without washing my feet first Corporal, where are the showers?”

Mystified, Barnes gazed up to the sky.

Her patience waning, Maggie snapped at Barnes that she’d meant the bathing area where they could wash. Barnes hesitated, disturbed at her attitude. He pointed over to the western edge of the camp, asking them to wait while he checked to see if the designated bathing area was available. It would be scandalous, he explained, to subject the ladies to the sight of naked men in the midst of their own ministrations. 

Satisfied with his inspection, Barnes motioned them over to the shoreline where they made their way past several tents as large as the colonel’s office. Many of the tents had graffiti all over them with banners and signs indicating the soldiers’ assigned units. A few men, dressed in casual pants and shirtsleeves, milled around campfires in front of the tents and gawked at them as they passed.

***

Fidgety and shuffling on his feet, Simon dismissed Barnes and ushered the ladies over to sit on the rocks near the riverbank. “Thank you, Corporal, we can take it from here.” He and Maggie hadn’t had any privacy since arriving at the Blandford house and now, at last, they could talk. Kitty lifted her voluminous skirts to her knees, dangling her feet in the cool, refreshing water of the river.

“Simon, what the hell is going on?” Maggie demanded. “The historical names, the primitive camp, Blandford and that horse and wagon, everything is so realistic. It’s scary. Are these re-enactors really that good? I thought it would be fun for me and Kitty to play a part in it, but now they’re just making me nervous and you look like you’ve been walking on hot coals. Would you stop hopping around and sit down with us, please? You’re making it worse.”

Simon slumped onto a rock, his anguished head in his hands. “I don’t know,” he groaned. “This has never happened before. My memories have always been flashes, lasting no longer than a few minutes, just enough time for me to experience a particular incident or a moment in time. Never for this long. And people I know in the present have never been in the memories because I didn’t know them then. But you’re both here and that Corporal Barnes

Simon’s yammering got on Kitty’s nerves.
What the hell? Am I losing my mind or is he? What did his so-called memories have to do with any of this?
“Am I missing something here? I don’t know what the hell you two are talking about, but you’re scaring the daylights out of me. Anyone want to explain?” 

“Kitty’s right, honey, you looked as if you’d eaten something bad earlier, but since you and Barnes talked on the way to get our shoes, you’ve been a nervous wreck. What in the world did he say to you?”

Simon took a deep breath, hesitated, and then stared them both in the eye. “I thought something was weird when I talked to Blandford and now Barnes has confirmed it. Barnes has never heard of the battle at Gettysburg. He’s a farm boy from Dauphin County with a third grade education. These people are not re-enactors at all and the date today is June 28th, 1861. Gettysburg hasn’t even happened yet. We are here, physically, somehow, in what is the past for us and the present for everyone else around us.”

***

Corporal Barnes came back to escort them to their quarters before they could continue their bewildering discussion. Kitty wasn’t sure if she and Maggie were on the same wavelength, but Simon appeared to be having some kind of breakdown. He couldn’t seriously believe they’d travelled back in time. Science fiction may have been her favorite genre, but she could still tell the difference between fantasy and reality.

Their luxury accommodations turned out to be one of the big teepees they’d passed on the way to the river. The furnishings included a wood stove, like the one in the colonel’s office, and six rope-laced cots with only a quilt on each for a mattress. It smelled as if a hundred men who had done hard labor in the sun without bathing slept in here for a week straight. At least it had a wood foundation under the canvas floor to keep out the ground moisture and mud.

“You’re lucky I found this for you,” Barnes admonished Kitty when he saw her pinched expression. “One of the regiments shipped out the other day and no one from the smaller tents in back has claimed it yet.”

“Do you have a separate privy or latrine for women here?” The last time Maggie and Kitty had relieved themselves was in the small outhouse at the Blandford house and, after being in the river, they both needed to go.

“Oh, no ma’am, there ain’t but a few women here so we all use the same facilities. It’d be best if you have your man here be look out for your, um, privacy. If you know what I mean. Oh, and you’ll find the chamber pots under the beds.”

“Speaking of privacy, there are six cots in here, Barnes,” Simon interjected, “I hope you’re not setting me and the women up with other soldiers.”

“Oh, no sir, that wouldn’t do at all. This’ll be just for you and your kin. Mind, it’s only temporary now. There’ll be some shuffling done when the regiment comes back.”

“What regiment is that?” Simon asked.

“Colonel Biddle’s, sir. He took his Bucktails and a regiment of infantry and artillery units down to Cumberland. They’re sure to see action there.” Barnes graced them with a huge yellow smile, showing a missing front tooth.

“Thank you, Corporal Barnes. If you’d please excuse us now, the ladies are tired.”

“Sure thing, I’ll come back after a while and take you ladies to meet Aunty Jackson. She’ll show you around the hospital and explain what your duties will be.” His voice lowered to a confidential tone. “Oh, and those blankets you got from the quartermaster. The men haven’t been using those ‘cause they’re infested with lice.” Barnes tipped his hat at them and left. 

“So where’s Cumberland?” Kitty asked, waiting to be sure Barnes was out of earshot so she wouldn’t sound ignorant again. Holding it gingerly with two fingers, she tossed the already inhabited blanket off into the corner of the tent. “Is that where they stage the fighting scenarios? Do they call it scenarios or something else?”