Chapter 4
The only rational thought I had was that I was dreaming.
I had to be, in reality, lying off the beaten trail somewhere, unconscious. For what I was seeing and smelling and feeling was not possible. All around me people were walking around in turn of the century regalia. Men in suits with bowler hats and women in hobble dresses. It was like one of Minnie's stories had come to life before my eyes.
That was what I kept telling myself. My subconscious was simply dragging up old memories of the stories I had been told and that was that.
Because it is not possible that I am really walking down the street of 1920 Chicago.
I was beginning to notice the looks I was getting.
Amazing how my subconscious has created such believable delusions.
I was dressed as one might normally dress. Jeans, sweater, tennis shoes. But, compared to those around me, I don't know if they thought I was foreign or insane.
Beginning to get uncomfortable, I stepped into an ally between townhouses and sat down.
What was going on?
I was tired and dirty from walking.
Can you imagine being tired and dirty?
Everything felt real.
I pinched myself for the hundredth time and still was not woken from this experience.
I felt sweaty; my heart was pounding and my breathing picked up. From my little medical training, I knew these were signs of a panic attack.
Pulling my knees to my chest, I began to concentrate on breathing in and out and putting myself together.
Closing my eyes, I began to lay out all the clues to what had happened in my head.
First, I hike through Camp Sagawau. Last thing I remember is tripping and falling.
I wake up and find myself in the same wooded area with no time seeming to have passed. I walk for several miles--for half a day--only to end up in a Chicago that was not living in the 21st century.
I liked to think I was not insane, but I refused to believe the idea that I had somehow fallen through space and time and ended up in Chicago of the early 20th century. Scowling, I noticed a paper by my side. Not sure what date I wanted to see at the top, I was greeted by a glaring headline of "Draft registration underway" and other articles pertaining to the Great War.
Now, if this were a dream, my subconscious would know, thanks to a minor in History, that the Great War would later be called World War I.
The date on the top of the paper was June 1, 1917.
1917
World War I
Women's suffrage.
My great-grandmother would be seven years old.
Judging by the location of the sun in the sky, it was noon, and I realized I had not eaten anything for at least 24 hours, depending on how long I had been in this place. Another piece of evidence pointing to the reality of this situation was the immense hunger pains I was feeling.
I knew I could not walk around in my current attire: it would pose too many questions, none of which I could answer.
I began pushing all the stories Minnie had told me and my own history knowledge to the forefront of my brain. I would need all of it to act as inconspicuous as possible. I noticed that the alleyway I was hiding in was between two houses and their laundry was drying on a line. All I needed was a dress. Getting to my feet, I snuck to the dresses on the line, ducking underneath windows to avoid being seen.
There were several to choose from, but one in particular reminded me of a dress I seen on my great-great grandmother in a photograph. It was dark green and not too flashy. It would help me blend in. And it was long enough to cover my sneakers, my only option for footwear.
Hiding in a dark corner, I quickly removed my sweater and jeans, replacing them with the tight dress, tucking Minnie's key underneath. In frustration, I realized the modern zipper had only just been invented and was not yet mass produced and I could not fully tie up the dress on my own. Feeling guilty about stealing from someone, I added a jacket to my crime, covering up the back of the dress. Catching my reflection in a window I grinned. My hair hanging down my back, I looked good in the old attire. Secure in the knowledge that I would not look out of place walking down the street, I stepped out on the sidewalk and took a moment to look around.
I walked quickly to get away from the scene of my crime, but once I was far enough to feel comfortable, I slowed down again. It was amazing what 100 years could do to an area. Judging from the various geographical landmarks, I was not far from where I had grown up. And it was like another world. People went about their business, majority walking to and fro. The only automobiles seen were styled like the Model-T, which, I realized, they were.
Everything was smaller. Since the car was not the standard mode of transportation it would be in the future, everything needed to be in walking distance.
While walking, the key, which I had worn faithfully all these years, began to cut into my neck, the dress not leaving much room. Pulling it out from under the dress, I looked at it in the light. The small silver key shined in the brightness and reminded me of all that I had been taught by Minnie. As crazy as whatever this adventure was, with all she had taught me, I could survive here.
While walking, I came across a stressed looking woman. She was pacing in front of what I assumed was her home, looking up and down her street. Forgetting myself for a moment I went up to her and asked, "Are you alright?"
She met my gaze with one of alarm. "Do you know my son Edward?"
Aware that I knew no one in the area the answer was simple. "I'm afraid not. Is he missing?"
"Yes, yes. His birthday is today, you know. And of course our housekeeper is in the middle of a family crisis, so I let her go home and now I don't know where he is and I have so many things to take care of…"
She ran a hand through her bronze hair and let out a heavy sigh. I stood to the side, not knowing what to do.
"Do you have any children?"
Well, that came out of nowhere…
"No, ma'am," I said, not sure where this was going.
"I love my son, but sometimes--sometimes I want to beat him for making me crazy…"
I could not hide a grin at this. She seemed so ashamed for something that, in my time, most mothers did do occasionally.
"Does your son run off often?" I asked, getting interested in who this woman was. For a moment I wondered if, should this time travel dream prove to be real, I was messing with space and time by having a conversation with her. That I shoved away, not wanting to think about it at all, ever.
"He is headstrong, that child. Today is his 16th birthday, my Edward. And all he wants to do is spend his time with his friends at the new naval base. I worry so, about his dreams and ambitions to join this foolish war. Ever since April it has been all he talked about. So many of his friends are older and share the same ambitions. The new base is for training and they all go up there to try to 'make connections.' Is it wrong for me to want to spend time with him?"
Whoa.
Something about me must scream 'therapist.' Everywhere I go, even traveling to the 1900s, people always tell me their problems and expect me to solve them.
"Boys will be boys, but I think if you shared some of those concerns with him, he might come home." Realizing her desire to go to her son, but the need for things to be done here at the same time, I threw caution to the wind. "Why don't you go get him and I can get things settled here? I can get things cleaned and ready while you're gone."
The woman looked at me like I was her saving grace. "Why would you help me? I don't even know your name."
"Amanda Hall." I said, giving her my hand.
"Elizabeth Masen." She replied with a smile, shaking my hand. "Would you really not mind?"
She started walking up to her home, while I followed behind her, but stopped suddenly. "Do you need work, dear?" she said softly, in a voice that said she meant no offence.
I, too, stopped suddenly. Did I? As I realized that this dream was not fading in the way dreams tend to do, the argument that this was somehow real was beginning to becoming likely. If I was to remain in this time and place, I would need to buy things, which required money. But, I also did not want to appear to need money. The woman in front of me was dressed in clothes that said she was wealthy, as if the large house before me was not further indication. This was a time when there was still a separation between classes. And I wanted to be friends with this woman. So, I would figure out money on my own.
"Money is no issue with me," I said with a smile, "I simply want to help a new friend."
She returned the smile and continued leading me into her home.
"Are you unmarried?" she asked me as I entered her house. It looked large from the outside, but upon entering it felt even larger. A large staircase was before me with a sitting room to my left and a formal dining room to my right. And it all looked lovely. I could tell that it was a home that Elizabeth took pride in running.
I then realized I had left her question unanswered. Looking back at her, I saw that she approved my admiration of her home and that she was willing to wait for my answer. It was then that random inspiration struck.
I recalled in the film Titanic a statement about 'new money.' That all you had to do was mention a gold mine or connection to the railroad and you were in the 'club.' I also recalled a college course about one of the World Wars that mentioned how spies were able to lie so well. I was taught that the key was to tell as much of the truth as was possible and be vague about everything else, to prevent anyone catching your lie.
So, I created my tale. I explained to Elizabeth that I was new to town, looking to make a new start after the unfortunate death of my parents. I subtly hinted that I had inherited enough money to leave easily on my own and I was now just looking for a place to live.
"Well, that is lucky!" Elizabeth said, getting excited. "There is a house available down the street. You must take it!"
Of course there is…
Before I could do anything of the sort, I needed to get money. I began to have a nagging feeling that there was a solution to this problem and I was simply forgetting it.
Elizabeth seemed anxious for a response, so I simply smiled and said I would have to look at it.
Looking closely at the beautiful home, I saw that there was not much needing to be done in the way of cleaning.
"What can I do to make things easier for you, Mrs. Masen?" I asked.
"Please, call me Elizabeth," she said with a smile. "There is not much to be done; I just need to be here when the caterer arrives."
"Well then, I'll wait for the caterer and you go get your son," I said with a smile.
"Thank you, so much!" she said with a smile, grabbing her coat and running out the door.
Amazing how trusting people were 100 years ago.
Alone in a strangers house, I took a moment to get acclimated to the surroundings. To my mind, the furnishings were antique, but upon closer inspection I could tell that many of the furnishings were quite new. There was no TV or computer and, like the first home I had visited the night before, the telephone was very strange.
I saw a different newspaper lying on a table that looked very recent. The date on the top was June 20, 1917. It was Wednesday. If the date was current it would mean that I had landed exactly 100 years in the past, for the day before, when I had gone hiking, it was June 19, 2017.
Slowly, the idea that I was not dreaming, that I was in the year 1917, was becoming easier to grasp. And, for a history lover like myself, I was going to take full advantage of the trip.
With that thought, I opened the door for the caterer and prepared to make myself comfortable in the past.