On a cloudy afternoon the summer of her sixteenth birthday, Winifred Lancaster is led by hand up the winding steps to the attic of her best friend's childhood home. It is a small, cramped space, dark and stuffy. There is a single window casting cold, grey light across the room. Cobwebs hang from the rafters.
Her friends giggle and gasp around her. They are alone in the house. The entire county is attending the fair where Winifred will meet George Barnes in two years' time. "Is this a good idea?" Winifred asks.
Her best friend rolls her eyes. Her name is Jane. She has long blonde hair, and Winifred will never see her again after she elopes. She will die of the Spanish flu and take her bloodline with her. "C'mon Winnie, you're ruining all the fun!" she says. Jane shakes the dust off of an old quilt and slides a Ouija board out from underneath it. Winifred can hear the town preacher's words in her head, and see her mother clutching her Bible.
"Where did you get it?" another girl asks. Her dark red hair is braided tightly and wrapped around itself on top of her head. Her name is Delilah.
"My brother sent it from New York," Jane replies. Her brother has made a name for himself, like his father before him. He will die in a trench beside Steve's father. The connection will never be realized.
"Do you know how to use it?" is posed. Jane nods. She places it on the floor.
"Everybody sit down," she says. She is whispering even though there is no need. Everyone sits. "Now place your hands on the planchette." Four pairs of hands are placed on the planchette. Jane smiles. "Okay, I have some rules. First of all, everyone be polite." There are giggles. "I'm being serious! Let's act like ladies." She sits up. "Second of all, don't ask stupid questions." She pauses. "That's it. Those are my rules."
Jane takes a deep breath. "Spirits, hear us! If there is anyone listening, this is a safe space, and we would like to talk to you! Spirits, join us!" Her voice is loud and commanding. Winifred feels embarrassed.
"Nothing happened," someone whispers. Jane shushes them.
"Is there anyone who would like to speak with us?" she asks. There is a moment of stillness. Then, the planchette begins to move.
YES, it says. There is nervous laughter from the crowd.
Jane grins. This is her doing. "What is your name?" she asks. The planchette moves.
NO, it says. She frowns, for show.
"Then what should we call you?"
NOTHING, it spells out. Winifred's hair stands up on end.
"Are you a good or a bad spirit?" Jane asks.
GOOD, it says.
"Alright," Jane says. She sounds uneasy, but excited. She is a brilliant actress. "When were you born?"
1901, it says.
"They're our age!" the girl adjacent to Winifred whispers. Her name is Penelope. Winifred does not know her well. She will die in a car accident in 1967. "Are you a girl or a boy?" she asks.
BOY, it says. There is a ripple of excitement.
"When did you die?" Jane asks.
1901, it says. Winifred gasps.
"He's just a baby," she says sadly. Jane frowns. Wheels are turning.
"Why are you here?" she asks.
TALK, it says.
"What do you want to talk about?" Jane asks.
QUESTIONS, it says.
"Do you want us to ask you questions?" another girl asks.
YES, it says.
"About what?" Jane asks.
YOU, it says. Jane sits up. She smirks. Winifred thinks she's supplying the answers. Winifred wants to go home.
"I'll start," she says, sounding very pleased. "Who will I marry?" she asks.
"I thought you said no stupid questions," Delilah mutters. Jane shoots her a dark glare.
JOHN, it replies. Winifred rolls her eyes.
"That narrows it down," Delilah says again. Jane huffs.
"Why don't you do it then?" she asks.
"Fine," Delilah says. "Will I marry Danny Knowles?" she asks.
NO, it says. Delilah rolls her eyes.
"Jane, you only made it say that because you know I like him," she grumbles.
"I didn't make it say anything," Jane asserts. She is lying. "Penelope, you're next."
Penelope licks her lips. Winifred watches her closely. She is thinking. "Penelope, we don't have all day," Jane says. Penelope has longer than all of them. She will die of cancer in 1993.
"How many children will I have?" she asks, finally, making eye contact with Jane the entire time.
3, it says. Penelope smiles.
"Ooh!" she says. "Will I have any daughters?"
"No follow up questions," Jane says, but the planchette moves to YES. She furrows her brow. Penelope moved it that time, she thinks.
"How many?"
2, it says. Penelope coos. She has never thought of moving the planchette.
"I've always wanted to have my own little girls!" she chirps. "Winnie, you're next," she whispers. Winifred frowns.
"Go ahead, Winnie," Delilah says. "Ask."
Winifred's arms shake. She can't think of anything to say. "Will I be happy?" she decides upon.
The planchette moves quickly. NO, it says. Penelope gasps.
"Oh no!" she says. "Why won't Winnie be happy?"
MAN, it says.
"Who?" Delilah asks. She and Penelope are leaning forward, eyes wild. Jane and Winifred are frowning.
H – U – S – B – A, it starts.
"Jane, stop it," Winifred says.
"I'm not doing anything!" Jane says. This is the truth.
- N - D, it finishes.
"Who will she marry?" Delilah chimes in.
LATER, it says.
"That's no fun," Delilah says.
"Don't be rude," Jane tells her, trying desperately to regain control of the situation.
"Will she have any children?" Penelope asks.
YES, it says.
"How many?" Penelope asks again.
3, it says.
"Any girls?" Delilah chimes in.
YES, it says.
"How many?" Penelope asks.
1, it says.
"Will they be happy?" Winifred asks. Her voice is heavy and pierces the room.
SOME, it says.
"What do you mean?" Penelope asks.
ELDEST, it says.
"They'll be happy?" Winifred asks.
NO, it says.
"Why not?" she asks again.
WINTER, it says. Winifred frowns. Jane bites her lip.
"Alright," she says. "Enough about Winnie, what about me!" Her words are planned. She is attempting to come to Winifred's rescue.
It works. Winifred says nothing for the rest of the afternoon. She walks home in the rain. That night she tells her sister. Beatrice laughs. "Winnie, don't worry. Ouija boards are scams. Jane's just trying to trick you. Forget it and whatever you do, don't tell mother."
Winifred doesn't tell her mother. Winifred doesn't say a word. Winifred falls in love with a boy for his smile. He fucks her in a wheat-field, and she gives birth to a son. "You are mine," she whispers to her eldest because she can already feel the cold claws of her husband digging into her flesh.
"I think that I would kiss a boy," her son says to her on a rainy afternoon. Her heart sinks, but not for fear of sin. Beatrice is loved in Chicago. There is a body of a boy in the ground in Michigan.
James picks up the nickname "Bucky". He brings home a tiny, bleeding boy one sunny morning in 1925. "What's your name?" Winifred Barnes asks while she gets a cold, wet rag.
"Steve Rogers," he says. He is thin and sickly. Bucky grins. Winifred cleans up his face and watches her son fall in love.
"Are you going out tonight?" she asks Bucky. It is 1934. She has two months left to live.
He shrugs. "Nah, probably just going over to Steve's place." He is in front of the ornate mirror she inherited from the apartment's previous tenants. He is fixing his hair.
"Come here," she says. Bucky gives her a look, but obeys. She smiles, pats his shoulders. He's strong. He's healthy. He's handsome. She sees the looks that girls give him. He looks like his father. She smoothes back his hair. "You know that I am proud of you," she says.
"Ma," he whines, but he plays the moment over and over again in his head until HYDRA takes it from him.
"What was my mother like?" Bucky asks Steve. The press-conference is three days past. They are lying in bed together. Steve runs a hand through Bucky's hair.
Steve thinks. "She was… well, she was a lot like you."
Bucky scrunches his face. Steve continues. "I only knew her when she was in Brooklyn. She hated Brooklyn, Bucky. I don't think you realized at the time how much she hated Brooklyn because you liked it so much, but she hated it."
"She wasn't from Brooklyn?" Bucky asks.
Steve shakes his head. "No, she was from back West somewhere. I'm not sure. I could probably look it up."
"No," Bucky says. "Don't. Just what you remember."
"Alright," Steve replies. "Well. She looked a lot like you. She paced a lot, like you do. She was very quiet. She got sick a lot, but she was very involved. Everyone in the neighborhood knew her, and whoever knew her liked her."
Steve can't see his face, but Bucky smiles sadly. "She loved you a lot," Steve says. "You had siblings that I never met. They were sent away to school. I think that your family lost touch with them. But you were the only one that she had left. She was great to you, Buck."
Bucky makes a sad, low noise. "I wish that I could remember her," he says.
"You'll remember someday," Steve tells him.
"I hope so," Bucky murmurs. In the past, Winifred thinks of a grey afternoon while she watches her son walk away.