Sweetest Readers!
Okay, are you ready? (I'm not. 😬😅)
All I want to say at the top here is that these next few chapters require just a smidge more...imagination. Not that they don't fit with the theme of the work, imho. But, I think you might have to lean in/immerse yourself just a little bit to get the full effect of what I'm going for, and to avoid having it automatically feel silly and/or boring.
Basically, even as a reader, you'll get as much out of it as you put in! 😉💗
With that said, I'll be including a few links in the next few chapters. And I totally, totally know that that is not everyone's cup of tea, even that visiting the links may be difficult for some at different times of day. I know I'm asking a lot of you. However, I've mulled over these chapters for a really long time, and I just couldn't keep myself from including the links. They've become a part of this. And I honestly feel that they help create a fuller experience for each chapter. (You'll see what I mean.)
Fan Fic . net readers, I know it'll be quite difficult for you guys to visit the links, and I'm so so sorry. (Remove spaces when you try.) But, if you are interested, maybe you can look them up on Y tube?
I encourage you to visit each link if you can, and I hope you'll give them a try!
Okay, here we go...
.
It was another few weeks before Arthur dreamed at all again. He'd begun to wonder if it was all over, if they'd left him altogether. If he could expect never to dream of them again.
As he sat on the edge of his cot beneath his covered wagon in camp one night, it was that thought that spurred him to glance at his satchel where it sat limp on the ground and to consider opening his journal to their pages, so far back as they were.
But again, for what seemed the thousandth time, he reminded himself that it was his journal—he could turn back to any page at any time—and he could do it another day.
So as the rest of the gang quieted and retired, he stretched his arms and back, reclined and turned over on his cot, and rested his head on the pillow as he pulled his sheet up over his long-john-clad shoulder.
As he slowly blinked his eyes closed, the images before him faded away from view—the woodgrain of the wagon bed beside his cot. The photo of Copper, one of his own father, and one of Dutch, Hosea, and himself as a younger man.
That was the last thing he saw, before closing his eyes and drifting off to sleep.
What came to him first was the sound of birdsong greeting his ears. Then, the distant sound of music from a gramophone, though it was a man and woman singing a song he'd never heard before:
"...Come Josephine in my flying machine, going up she goes! Up she goes!" ["Come Josephine in My Flying Machine," Ada Jones & Bill Murray, you tu . be /eFZDB6DqAnA?t=38 ]
Something about it was...off... Different.
When he seemed to open his eyes again, the unfiltered sunlight of day flooded him, and he blinked and squinted, trying to dodge the light a bit. But as his bleary eyes cleared and he looked down, he realized he wasn't in his cot. He was seated in a white wicker chair at a glass-topped garden table, both foreign to him. His chest lurched, and he instinctively gripped the arms of the wicker chair, worrying that something must've happened to the gang, and that he must've been captured somehow in his sleep.
As his gaze drifted over the table, he saw a silver-plated teapot, an empty shiny silver tray, a newspaper, and two small cups atop two saucers.
Vaguely glimpsing the headlines of the newspaper, he reached out and took it to get a better look.
"Wilbur Wright Dies After Brave Fight," it said. "Distinguished Aviator and Inventor Had Suffered from Typhoid Since May 4. - Made First Real Flight. - With His Brother, He Solved Problem of Aerial Navigation, Although He Had No Technical Training."
"What in the..." His brows came together as he tried to make sense of the words. He lifted his eyes to the top of the page to scan the name and date of the newspaper.
It read, "Misty Willow Daily Herald, Thursday, May 30, 1912."
"Thanks for playin' along, Arthur," he heard a familiar voice say from across the table as a lace-gloved hand reached out for the opposite teacup.
His gaze followed the hand as it pulled the teacup by the handle, drifting up the arm...until he saw her.
Sitting across the table from him, grinning up at him with a smile as she took a small sip from the rim of her teacup.
With his jaw hanging loose and searching for words, he quickly turned to look behind him for his younger or older self. But there was no one else around. She was looking at him. Him.
He turned back to her and took her in: the soft cream gown she wore, gathered at the waist and loose at the bust, adorned with eyelets and lacey frills, and reaching all the way up to a high collar around her neck. The rosy blush of her lips, the soft natural flush and freckles of her cheeks and nose, the fluffy lashes. The bouffant all the way around her head that her blonde hair was gently swept back into, and the very large, stately sun hat adorned with intricate flowers.
And those eyes. Pale green and vibrant as ever, gazing back at him.
"Ain't that so sad?" she said, gesturing with drawn brows to the newspaper in his hand. She briefly looked down at her cup. "He caught fever, and not a month later, he's just...gone."
Still frantically looking about him to try to make sense of the situation, he noticed that they were seated alone together in a lush green place, the gramophone on a little table to his left, and a wide expanse of rolling green pasture hills and trees to his right.
"Whoa! No, don't hit the moon, dear," the crackling sound of the voices spilled from the gramophone. "Oh, no, not yet, but soon, dear..."
He finally looked back at her with confusion on his brows. "'P-playin' along?'"
Her expression relaxed into a smile. "For Addie," she said, tilting her head to her right.
He looked in that direction to see a little ivy-covered house with a little old lady keeping an eye on them through the window. "Addie...?" he muttered to himself, his brows even tighter in sincere confusion.
"She wants me to be a 'proper lady'," she said with a little roll of her eyes. "Dress real nice, and keep from runnin' and climbin', and...court you proper. You know," she started to grin, "keep our hands to ourselves an' all," she laughed. "So I was just thankin' you for sittin' with me and playin' along for a bit. You look real nice."
He cocked his head a bit at her. And when he noticed the shiny silver tray again, he quickly took it in both hands and held it up to his face. His eyes bugged wide at what he saw, what he hadn't seen in over a decade.
"My god..." he breathed, turning this way and that and bringing a hand up to touch his own face. Though he still had a bit of sun damage, his skin was clearly...simply younger. The crows' feet around his eyes were much softer, nearly absent. The creases in his forehead and near the bridge of his nose were almost gone. He must've been in his twenties, about twenty-four.
"Well...I know it ain't every day you shave, but...Jehoshaphat, you don't gotta make such a big drama about it," he heard Eliza chuckle. "You know I like you every way."
His hair was parted to the side and pomaded back, and his scruff was completely shaved away. As he set the tray back on the table and looked down at himself, he saw that he was wearing a white long-sleeved dress shirt, a pale blue silken vest, khaki breeches, and black riding boots that ended in a brown cuff just under his knee.
"W-wait... That makes you..." he muttered under his breath. He popped his head up and looked at her. "H-how old are you?"
She lifted her eyes up to the heavens and slumped her shoulders a moment. "Arthur... Nineteen," she grumbled as she looked back at him with a brief pulse of her eyes and reached for her teacup again. "I know I never let myself forget it, but I didn't think you'd needle me about it too."
"Naw, naw, it ain't that, it's just..." he shook his head, his brows finally relaxing as he looked away a moment. "So, this is just...another dream, I guess..." he mumbled to himself. He quickly looked back up at her. "But, you're lookin' at me. Me!" he hurriedly pointed to his own chest. "You can see me?!"
Her brows came together as she eyed him. "Yes..."
"There ain't...s-some other version a' me around?" he said, quickly glancing behind himself again.
She squinted at him for just a moment, then rested one hand over his where it rested on the table. "You're the only version of you I want, Arthur. Ain't one enough?" she chuckled as he took a sip.
"'S just...never happened this way," he said, rubbing his fingertips across his forehead. "I'm usually," he gestured haphazardly away from himself with the same hand, "on the outside."
Her brows came together for just a moment as she set her teacup back down. "We're outside together all the time, Arthur," she chuckled with a smile. "Where else would we go? You ain't bought us a house yet, like you said you want to. 'Sides. I love bein' outside."
He shook his head a little, trying to clear it. "All right, I'm... I'm playin' along," he mumbled and nodded, wiping a hand down over his face. "Playin' along."
"Yes, and I'm very thankful," she said, letting only her eyes slide back in the direction of the window where Addie was still standing. "I owe a lot to Addie. She's been so kind to me, and I don't know where I'd be without her. But...you don't think she can stand there...forever, do you?"
He met Eliza's eyes before turning to see the old woman still standing there, and he wheezed. "She always was an ol' coot." Lifting his eyebrows and offering a smile, he raised a hand and waved it once, almost like a salute.
Addie just scrunched her nose and glared deeper at him.
He wheezed again, wanting to loosely shake his head, but refraining. "Didn't know we needed a nursemaid."
Eliza laughed. "'Chaperone' is what she likes to call it." With drawn brows, she looked at him and clucked her tongue. "I'm so sorry, Arthur."
"Naw, it's all right," he smirked.
"Maybe if we look like we've really gotten to talkin', she'll take the chance to walk away... Here: d'you like my hair?" she said, lifting a hand to the edge of it. "They're callin' it 'Gibson Girl'. It's the fashion, I guess. I do like it. It's just...a bit more work than I like to put into my hair," she scrunched her nose. "Prefer it down or in a braid."
"I know you do," he smiled. "It looks terrific, any way you have it. You know, it...always reminded me of the sun," he said quietly, letting his eyes peruse the way little wisps of her hair fell about her face.
Her eyelids slowly draped down as she got caught up in his soft speech, and she smiled and blushed a little, until one of the wisps fell towards her eyes. "Eh... I always got these loose baby hairs, though," she said, frustratedly trying to swipe it away. "Look, I even got this silly little one back here, down my neck," she said, turning her head so he could see a particular wisp that hung against her skin, then curled up at the end away from her neck.
He couldn't help but smile and chuckle at the sight.
"It just won't make it into the pins," she grumbled, trying to twirl it around her finger and stuff it into the bouffant. But it wouldn't obey, and down her neck it softly floated again. "I wonder if these silly little things'll ever go away."
"They won't," he smiled bright as he brought his cup of tea to his mouth. "But I love 'em."
She smiled and chuckled. Keeping her eyes on him, she whispered, "She still there?"
Continuing to face her as he returned his cup to its saucer, he shifted his gaze towards the window. "She's gone, actually," he said, relaxing his shoulders.
"Wanna get outta here?"
Looking back at her, he slowly grinned. "There's nothin' I'd like more."
She matched his smile.
They both abruptly rose from the table, Eliza gripping the skirt of her gown with both hands as they darted off towards the trees.
"Hurry!" she whispered, unable to control her giggle. "Lord knows when she'll be back at the window!" As they went, she tore her lace gloves off, removed and tossed her hat away, and reached up to pull the pins from her hair, shaking her head until it fell in loose waves about her shoulders.
He slowed a bit and took her hand in his, and they sprinted for the trees with delirious smiles on their faces. When they finally made it into the forest, they slowed and stopped at an apple tree. And she brought her hands up to its lowest crevice, the base where the branches met, looking down at the trunk for a knob to place her heeled lace-up boot and climb up.
Without a second thought and without a word, he lifted her by the waist and seated her in the crevice, which was about his shoulder's height.
"Thank you," she said, trying to reach down and remove her black heeled boots.
He immediately began unlacing them for her and pulled them off. And when he saw her black stockings, he pulled at the toe and slipped them off, dropping them to the forest floor.
"Ohhh, that's better," she sighed, leaning back a bit as she pointed her toes and stretched her calves.
He smiled as he watched her arch and wiggle her toes before letting her legs hang limp and swinging them back and forth for a moment. His eyes glided up her form until they rested on her abdomen, where her plump, round little belly protruded just a bit beneath her delicate white gown. It was still small, still growing, but it was definitely noticeable.
A little stunned, he reached his big hand up and rested it on her small belly, which sat just within his line of sight.
"He's in there," he breathed. A little chuckle escaped him, and he began to smile as he glanced up at her and back down at her belly. "I never got a chance to see you like this...before. In reality. Not in the dreams, either. Not me, I mean. I mean, I did. But only from the side. It was always..." he tipped his head, willing himself to stop babbling what he only ever realized after the fact was nothing but gibberish to her. "The other me," he added quietly, swallowing.
"Are you feelin' okay, sweetheart?" she said, bringing her hand to his forehead and resting her palm against it.
He shifted his face to look up at her, letting his eyes close and all the muscles in his face relax completely as she softly ran just the tips of her fingers into his pomaded hair, sliding her hand down to the side of his face and brushing the backs of her fingers against his cheek bone.
He drank in the touch, feeling himself hold his breath and finally release it as he opened his eyes to look up at her. "I'm feelin'...better than ever," he smiled.
She smiled down at him in return, bringing her free hand over his that still rested on her belly. "You said 'he'. I think it's a boy too." She traced her fingertip down his smooth cheek until her hand rested on his angular jawline, and she brought her thumb to his scarred chin. "And I hope our baby is just like you," she whispered.
"H... How can you possibly say that to me?" he breathed so quietly, with drawn brows as he looked up into her eyes, her hand still resting on his face. "I was nothin' but horrible to you." He watched her brows pulled together in pain, and he was surprised that her eyes actually began to fill just a little.
"'H-horrible'? Arthur, please don't say such things," she said. "You have to stop beatin' yourself up. It takes two to make a baby, you know. And the leavin' an' comin' back... I know it's 'cause you want the best for me. And you're keepin' me safe. Gettin' things ready 'til you can stay for good, and we can hide away together."
He shook his head and quickly added, "I didn't mean to upset you."
"I know," she whispered with a small smile. "Just... Just don't say such things, all right?" She brought the side of her first finger down his temple. "You're a good man, and I trust you with my whole heart. And you're everything I want. Everything I want." She looked into his eyes. "All right?"
He could only nod, and gingerly breathe. "All right."
Just then a little gurgling sound arose from her stomach, and she slid her hand over her belly. "Ooohh, little man's hungry," she chuckled as she sat back in the tree's crevice.
"I think it's you that's hungry," Arthur said with a smirk. He'd already straightened and was taking note of the scarlet apples hanging amidst the leaves above them. Selecting the very best one he could find, he plucked it, rubbed it on his sleeve, and handed it to her.
"Mmm, thank you," she said with a grin. She took a bite and savored it as she chewed and swallowed.
Unable to take his eyes off her even as it grew quiet again, he watched her looked down, clearly thinking to herself as she rested her other hand and forearm below her small belly, as if cupping it. She leaned to the side against the nearby tree branch and rested her temple against it, letting the skin of the apple in her hand rest on her cheek near the corner of her mouth.
"Arthur?" she finally said quietly, moving only her eyes to look up at him.
"Hm," he softly responded.
She looked back down at her lap. "Do you think... And...you can answer honestly," she began, speaking slowly. "Do you think, if you had time...time to travel the world, that you would find somebody you like better than me?"
"No," he was ready with his answer, shaking his head as her eyes popped up to meet his again. "No. Not in a million years."
Maintaining his gaze, her mouth slowly grew into a beaming smile. She sat up again and took another bite of fruit, chewed, and swallowed.
He grinned and picked a leaf from the tree, looking down to fiddle with it between his fingers. "How's the apple?" he asked as he leaned against the tree trunk with the side of his shoulder and looked back up at her, their eyes rising to meet each other's at the same time.
"It'll have to do," she said lightly, sighing a bit.
He watched her plump bottom lip fold backwards a bit where her mouth lingered on the apple's red skin.
And she added, with a demure, almost imperceptible grin, "It ain't you."
He swallowed and caught his breath in the same moment, just managing to get out, "Jesus..."
He'd have to have been blind to have missed the way her grin brightened just a bit, the way she reveled in the effect she clearly and so easily had on him.
The apple came away from her mouth, and with one arm wrapped around the tree branch, she was leaning down for him.
He tilted his chin up, watching her slowly come towards him. And as he began to softly grin, he let himself close his eyes, eager for the feel of her soft lips on his.
But when another moment passed and that sensation never came, he opened his eyes to find himself indoors in a dimly lit corridor somewhere. Eliza was nowhere to be seen.
The sounds of raucous music, distant and muffled, registered somewhere in the back of his mind. He looked down and noticed he was in a completely different getup than he'd had on just a moment before—dark gray suit pants. And on his wrists, cuffs of a suit jacket that matched in color.
When he glanced up and the gleam of a mirror on the wall caught his eye, he stepped forward from the shadows to see himself in the exact same young state that he'd been in a moment before. And he could see his getup in full—a double-breasted gray dress suit, complete with a matching suit vest, satin necktie, and dress shirt underneath. His vest was even adorned with the chain of a pocket watch.
And as he looked up, he saw on his head a matching gray fedora with a brim that cocked down in the front and gently transitioned into being slightly upturned at the back. It had a flat black band around the base of the crown and a flat bow on one side.
"Oo, hey now..." he murmured low as he turned to the side, sliding his fingers down the brim of his hat. He opened the suit jacket to reveal the suit vest and immediately sunk his hands into the pockets of his pants. "That ain't bad."
Still focused on the reflection of his new clothes in the mirror, he hardly registered the sound of a door opening down at the end of the corridor, the raucous music growing louder for just a moment and fading again as the door closed.
And out of nowhere, a young woman appeared, walking up to stand beside him.
Glancing up at her once, he had to quickly whip his head up to look at her again. It was Eliza, but she was hardly recognizable.
"Arthur, there you are!" she said, slipping her hand down into his. She paused and gasped. "Look at you, sugar, all dolled up! You look like a million bucks!" she spouted off as she tugged him towards the door with her. "What're you doin' in here, lally-gaggin' an' jimmy-jackin' around for? You're gonna make us miss the big grandioso!"
Trying to make sense of everything she'd said, he quickly blinked and lifted his brows. "The...what?"
"Midnight! You know...your birthday?"
Still confused by everything, his brows came together when he got another look at her outfit, letting his eyes drag up and down her form as the two of them made their way through the door into a lively, swanky, sparsely lit bar and dance hall together.
She was in dark gray heels and some sort of dark transparent stockings with a line up the backs of her calves. But his eyes nearly bugged from his head when he realized he was looking at her bare legs in public.
She wore a silvery, shimmery gown that hit just above her knees, with intricate beads and little bits that dangled from her here and there as she moved. A long string of lush cream pearls hung about her neck, clustered nonchalantly in a knot where they rested before her chest. And her blonde hair was cut short, pressed into distinct and separate waves that draped just a little near her forehead and ended just beneath her jaw.
As they began to make their way through the densely packed crowd, the bawdy sounds of loud trombone, distorted trumpet, brassy cymbals, bouncing piano, and several other instruments he couldn't name smacked him in the face. It reminded him of some strange conglomerate of the bar music, ragtime, vaudeville, and quick Saint Denis tunes he knew. But it had a slinky, peppy, rambunctious flair to it.
Feeling her hand around his wrist as she tugged him, he was having to bump shoulders and elbows with folks on either side of him that were dressed similarly to himself and Eliza—men in matching three-piece suits, some with mustaches and hair parted down the middle; women in short, shimmery dresses with long cigarette holders between their fingers.
He finally looked up ahead of Eliza and saw a cloth banner hanging across the bandstand stage painted with gold letters that read, "Happy New Year! 1927."
"Come dance the Chucky with me!" he heard Eliza say amidst the clamor around them as she continued to drag him further towards the dance floor where other women were kicking their heels back, bouncing and gyrating in time with the rowdy music.
"Eliza, wait," he said, tugging her back just a bit to get her to pause. "Wait."
When she stopped and turned back to him, his eyes grew wide, and his brow arched.
Her face was all made up, with clouds of something nearly as dark as charcoal smudged around her eyes.
"My god, sweetheart, what is this all over your face?" he asked, but the music all but drowned his voice out.
"What? I can't hear you," she lifted her voice over the music, squinting an eye and cupping a hand near her ear.
He took her by the hand back towards the bar and ducked close to her. "I said, what's this all over your face, darlin'?" he asked just as a waiter holding a silver tray with champagne glasses and a cloth napkin passed. And Arthur quickly reached out and took the napkin, dabbing it against his tongue.
"What do you mean? It's the thing!" she said, her brows coming together in slight offense. And when he held the soiled napkin up to her face, she jerked back a bit. "Arthur..." she grumbled.
As another waiter passed, Arthur caught him by the arm and shouted above the hubbub, "Hey, mister, can we get a glass a' water, please? Just a glass a' water."
"Certainly," the waiter responded.
"All right, so you ain't a fan of my new eye kohl. Well...don't you like my hair?" Eliza was asking, her pitch high and perturbed. "And my dress?" she said, looking down at herself. "I just got it, I thought it was the bee's knees!"
"Bee's...what?" Arthur eyed her in confusion, finally chuckling and shaking his head as the waiter returned and handed him the glass of water. "Sure, I like it, honey," he said, his tone syrupy and apologetic as he bunched the napkin around his first finger and dipped it in the water. "I just like to see your beautiful eyes, is all."
Remaining still as he lifted the wet napkin to her face, she kept her steady gaze on him while he tried to wipe her eye makeup away.
"I just...like to see your beautiful eyes, is all," he said again, though it was quieter. He tried to focus on his task, but with each slow swipe and dab of the napkin to her skin, he was finding it hard to resist her gaze.
When he glanced back to where the napkin met her skin and realized he was only making a streaky, muddy mess of her, he had to chuckle at himself. "Je...hoshaphat," he wheezed and shook his head as he turned to dip the napkin back in the water. "This ain't comin' off so easy, darlin'."
"Ahahaa!" she let out a high, giddy laugh and giggled as she pointed at him. "You said 'Jehoshaphat'!"
His grin brightened. But as he turned back to her with the dampened napkin, he looked up to find her gone. In fact, the whole club was gone.
He was standing outside in the dark somewhere, and in his hand was no longer a napkin, but a smoldering cigarette. "What in the..." he muttered in a high pitch, to only the cool darkness of late evening, the crickets chirping, and the sound of gravel shifting beneath his feet.
He looked down to see high-shine, saddle brown wingtip shoes on his feet and loose khaki slacks on his legs. He brought his hand to his waist and ran it over the belt he found there.
"Jesus," he nearly shouted, squinting and bunching up his nose as he firmly nodded once. "What year is it now?"
He looked up at the night sky full of sparkling stars, then out at where the gravel ended and met green grass right before the ground was cloaked in shadow before him. When he turned to look behind him for the source of light, he saw a long, squat building with lamps affixed to the side and a sign that read, "Suds & Swing Roadhouse," and only then did he register the sound of distant music originating there.
He let out a low, quiet groan and lifted the cigarette to his lips, taking a drag that he knew he'd need the effects from in the next few moments.
When the flash of something caught the corner of his eye, he looked back out to his right where a row of very large, curious contraptions sat atop the gravel before the building. They almost reminded him of covered wagons, but they were much, much more compact.
With knitted brows, he took a few steps closer to better inspect them. They looked to be made of painted metal all the way around, and the wheels were wrapped in something thick and black. Panes of glass for lookout windows were placed at the top of the front and sides, and when he peered through, he saw that the seats were padded with leather, and there was another slimmer wheel where the driver would be holding the reins if it were a wagon.
With brows still knitted, he cocked his head to try to make sense of the sight. A wagon, with no horses...
And just then the front door of the roadhouse opened, and Eliza dashed out to him.
"Arthur, you can smoke anytime!" she said, slipping her hand into his and pulling him with her towards the building. "Addie's got the baby for one night—one night, and we have to make the most of it!"
His eyes were glued to her. "B-baby? W-what'd you say? Baby?"
"Yes! Addie's got Isaac just for your birthday, and I ain't about to waste it waitin' for you to never finish smokin' an' come inside!" she said with a chuckle on the end.
Letting her tug him by the hand, he took note of her new outfit. She was in black and white wingtip heels and a navy-blue dress that fell to her knees and had little white polka dots all over it. The dress had lapels on each side of the collar and buttons down the bodice. It was fitted at the waist, and the skirt swished about her a bit.
She pushed through the front door, and they found themselves in a little foyer, walls littered with black-and-white photographs of men and women.
When he caught sight of his own reflection in a little mirror on the wall, he quickly stopped there to get a look at himself. His face remained young, and his hair was parted to the side and pomaded back. He wore a simple short-sleeved white button-down tucked into his khaki slacks.
"Arthur, quit fussin', you look great!" Eliza said.
He glanced at her and once again, had to quickly look back up at her. But this time, it was for all the right reasons.
Her blonde hair was cut below her shoulder and smoothed ever so beautifully into silky rolls—the top half of her hair was sectioned and pinned into rolls on each side, and what remained of her hair underneath cascaded and fell into soft rolls at the end.
She wore no dark smudges around her eyes, but she had the same fluffy lashes and freckles he adored. And her gorgeous lips that always beckoned him were colored a ravishing, velvet scarlet red—set perfectly against her soft, plush skin.
As she started to turn for the next door, he quickly caught her by the wrist. "Whoa, hey," he said as she turned back to him, and her smooth curls spun with her. He looked her in the eyes. "You look...fantastic," he breathed.
She slowly smirked. "Well, thanks. You ain't so bad yourself, cowboy."
He felt himself softly grin as he looked down at her mouth, and they both started to lean in.
But before he could ever reach her mouth, someone opened the next door and yanked Eliza by the wrist.
"Come on, Eliza! They're playin' my favorite song!" a young woman with Auburn hair said.
And with his hand still in hers, he was tugged right along with her into another bar and dance hall, though it wasn't nearly as dimly lit or quite as densely packed as the last one. The men and women around them were dressed similarly to themselves—the men in loose, short-sleeved white or cream button-downs, and the women in dresses or blouses and skirts.
The swingy, swanky music, with playful bursts of trumpet here and there, rang out and filled his senses:
.
"First you say you do, and then you don't. And then you say you will, and then you won't. You're undecided now, so what are you gonna do?" ["Undecided," Ella Fitzgerald, you tu . be /FtaGfixdATM]
.
A man suddenly stopped them before they'd made it very far inside. "H-hey, now… Miss Eliza, you ain't allowed in here, you ain't twenty-one yet, now are ya?" he said, leaning to the side and peering at her with a smirk and a wry gleam in his eye.
"Ohhhh!" both women immediately shouted with latent grins on their faces, though their brows could've signaled exasperation.
"Oh, quit with your shenanigans!" the other woman said. "Don't you want any patrons?"
"Get outta here, ya big lug!" Eliza gestured as though she were about to swat him, unable to keep down her grin. "You know I turned twenty-one last year! The war's over... And it's Arthur's birthday!" she said in a high pitch. "What, are you gonna turn us away on Arthur's birthday?"
"Ahh, I'm just teasin' ya," he smiled wide as he started to walk away. "Have a great time tonight, on the house!"
The young woman continued to tug Eliza, and Eliza held fast to Arthur's wrist as she pulled them to a table at the edge of the dance floor.
"Oh, this is such a swell song!" Eliza clucked her tongue and smiled when they arrived at the table, where a group of other young women and men were already congregated. A few of the women were standing, and a few were seated on their man's lap, with each man gazing and grinning up at the women.
"A goodie," the auburn-headed woman replied to Eliza with a smile.
.
"Now you wanna play, and then it's no. And when you say you'll stay, that's when you go. You're undecided now, so what are you gonna do?"
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"Here, I got you guys drinks already," she said, passing two shot glasses to Eliza and taking a half-gone stein of ale from the tabletop for herself.
"Oo, yes, thank you," Eliza said with big eyes, gingerly taking them and handing one to Arthur. "Drink up, babe, if you're gonna push me around the dance floor!"
As she downed hers and set the glass on the table with a clink, he took a moment to look around the room—the pairs of men and women quickly jiving and hopping and swinging each other across the dance floor, the big sign once again over the band stand stage that read, "Happy New Year! 1946" all set to the rollicking, effervescent music.
When he turned back to the people at the table, the women had begun singing along with the words. And as Eliza joined them in singing, she eyed him and the shot still in his hand. Continuing to sing along, she let her gaze pulse wide a moment as she cupped her hand around an imaginary glass and acted out downing it, pointing at him and gesturing for him to drink his shot.
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"I've been sittin' on a fence, and it doesn't make much sense, 'cause you keep me in suspense, and you know it."
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Arthur watched as she turned back to the other women and continued singing along with them. The group of them smiled wide as they brought emphasis to the last few words of the line and pointed firmly to the floor with laughs and giggles amongst themselves. When one of them went so far as to playfully stomped her foot with a little pout of her lip, Eliza let out a laugh.
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"Then you promise to return. When you don't, I really burn. Well, I guess I'll never learn, and I show it!"
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With the next line, the same young woman with a flair for the melodramatic clenched both fists over her chest and sang out with drawn brows as the other women tipped their shoulders in time with the music and sang and laughed with her:
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"If you've got a heart, and if you're kind, then don't keep us apart. Make up your mind. You're undecided now, so what are you gonna do?"
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And at last, the flourish of the song came, and they all belted out together:
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"Now, if you don't love me, I wish you'd say so! I love you so much, honey, I've just got to know! I'm just a fool for you... What are you gonna do?"
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Eliza laughed and whooped, lifting her hands up high and clapping as the song ended. She took a few almonds from a little bowl on the table and tossed them in her mouth to munch on them.
When she caught a glimpse of Arthur setting his still-full shot glass on the table, she started in with a high-pitched, "Baby, why'm I the one trying to get you to drink tonight? Just one, babe! Just one. To loosen you up a bit. Come on," she said, taking the shot from the table and trying to hand it to him.
"Naw, naw... I ain't interested," he said with a scrunch to his nose as he held up a hand to the glass. His senses were already inundated and overstimulated, and he was just managing to keep his world from whirling.
"Well now, how're you gonna dance if you don't have just a little help?" she said. "You know you promised me one dance on your birthday!"
He took a breath and looked out at the bustling dance floor again. "Did I...?" he said quietly. He took note of the men's legs—they were so limp and fast, they looked as floppy as lasso ropes. No way in hell was he doing that.
And when a couple somewhere to his left caught his eye, he turned just in time to see the man dip the woman between his legs, quickly pulling her back out and lifting her to stick her legs straight up into the air so her skirt fell about her waist and displayed her silken undergarments for just a moment. And still another couple off to his right stood back-to-back, the man bending and quickly pulling the woman over his back, tumbling her with legs flying through the air until she landed on her feet again before him.
And Arthur simply lifted his brows, amazed at the difficulty, the audacity of the whole maneuver. No way in hell.
"Oh, no, no. Don't you back out now!" Eliza said low, though his focus was still elsewhere. Finishing the almonds she'd had in her mouth, she grabbed a paper napkin and set the rest of her handful on the table. "I'm getting' that dance."
And just then, bright pops of trumpet announced the start of a new song.
Eliza gasped. "I love this song!" She looked into his eyes and slipped her hand down into his. "And it's just perfect for us, hun..." she said with a wry smile as she slowly walked backwards onto the dance floor, taking him with her, tucking her chin, and mouthing the smooth, slow words,
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"Yippee yay...there'll be no weddin' bells for today..." ["(I Got Spurs That) Jingle, Jangle, Jingle," Kay Kyser, you tu . be /s0ofuXYkYi0]
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When he felt her twist a band that he hadn't realized was on his left ring finger, he glanced down to see one on her own left ring finger as well. And he understood then just how cheeky her expression actually was.
As the tempo picked up speed, she clapped with the beat, continuing to mouth the words beneath her ever-wry gaze,
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"'Cause I got spurs that jingle, jangle, jingle as I go ridin' merrily along."
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Remaining in place, he squinted an eye at her and couldn't restrain the deep smirk that rose on his own face as she began to slowly stride around him, dramatically pinching her brows up and clasping her hands to her chest at the "Oh…" of the next line,
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"And they sing, 'Oh...ain't you glad you're single?' And that song ain't so very far from wrong!"
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He couldn't help but break out into an all-out grin then, wagging his head and watching as she came back around him and playfully scrunched her brows together, pouted her lips, and shook her finger in time with the next line,
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"Oh, Lily Bell! Oh, Lily Bell! Though I may have done some foolin', this I why I never fell: 'cause I got spurs that jingle, jangle, jingle as I go ridin' merrily along. And they sing, 'Oh…ain't you glad you're single?' And that song ain't so very far from wrong!"
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Finally allowing herself to break from her playful façade, Eliza let herself laugh at the expression on Arthur's face. "Come on and dance with me, babe. Come on!" she lifted her voice over the music, reaching out to take his hand.
But he resisted, throwing his head to the side and groaning, "Naw, naw, honey!"
She smirked a half-frown. "Well, don't blame me for whatever happens while I dance on my own, then."
In the next few moments, he found himself standing still in the middle of a pulsating dance floor, listening to the wub wub and wub wau of the trombone, watching Eliza bounce and dip her shoulders back and forth, the best she could do without a partner.
And suddenly a young man rushed up to her with a big smile on his face, and without skipping a beat, they were holding each other's hands and dancing right along with the music.
Arthur's brows involuntarily came together, and he cocked his head and folded his arms as he watched the pair jive and hop.
The man would let go of one of her hands while holding fast to the other. And Eliza would lean back and swish at the hips, holding her free arm up and dangling her hand limp at the wrist as she quickly kicked her feet forward to touch her heels to the floor, one at a time. She was so light on her feet, and the soles of her shoes would just barely touch the floor—it looked as if the floor itself were burning hot.
Then the pair would come back together again, quickstep and shift to stand side-by-side, and the man would spin Eliza out like a yo-yo, holding onto nothing but her hand as she suddenly stopped twirling. Then they'd do another set of similar quick step moves.
Arthur tried to take note of the moves, the ways their feet were shifting across the floor, though the steps themselves always seemed to be changing and varying. It seemed to him that as far as the dance went, the man's job was to step and move just enough, and to hold onto the woman's hand as he swung and spun her around, so she could shine.
But the young man wore a big grin all across his face nonetheless, right along with Eliza, both of them clearly having a high ol' time. And Arthur realized, it was more a feeling than anything.
Suddenly the guy twirled Eliza under his arm, then brought his arm around her and folded her in close, so she was standing with her back to him, and the two of them swayed side to side. And in the very next moment, he quickly spun her out and lifted her off the floor, swinging her through the air so her legs flew once on either side of him.
Thankfully her underthings weren't displayed to the world, but it was enough for Arthur to finally step in.
When Eliza next swung out, he took her by her free hand and took his rightful place as her partner.
"Aah! There you are!" she smiled bright, her red lips still captivating, and her cheeks now a flush rosy color.
With a similar bright smile, he yanked her close and whispered in her ear, "I like this one much better than the last one."
"What?" she scoffed a laugh. She looked back at him as he let her spin back out. "Yeah…I like this one a lot better too!" she said in a low, knowing tone as she nodded and pointed to him with a cocked brow, referring to the change in partners.
"Oh, I got spurs that jingle, jangle, jingle…" the song continued as they danced together, a woman's voice now joining in to echo each line.
Arthur made sure to hold tight to Eliza's hand as he let her spin out, lean back, swish her hips, and kick her heels.
She lifted her chin a bit and gazed over her cheeks at him with a latent grin that clearly wanted to spread across her mouth. And when he whipped her to him again, it immediately bloomed bright, and she cackled and laughed in his arms.
The sound initiated a bloom of a grin across his own face, without even trying. He couldn't resist it if he wanted to.
Again, he unfurled her from being tucked under his arm. She brought her free hand up to rest it at his back, and he instinctively did the same. They quickly spun across the floor as if it were nothing more than a two-person, quick-step ring-around-the-rosy.
With his hand in hers, Eliza quickly dipped their arms a bit, then lifted his hand and twirled herself under it.
And just like that, the song ended with a bright trumpet flourish.
"Whoo!" Eliza laughed and clapped her hands. "Thank you for dancin' with me, honey," she huffed with a smile as she caught her breath. "I'm just gonna go get a little bit of water. You want any?"
"Nah, I'll be fine," he smiled in return.
"'Kay. Be right back," she quietly replied, gently resting her hand on his forearm. "Hold my place?"
He nodded and watched her for a few more moments as she walked off, the soft, delirious grin still written across his face.
After a while he started to look about the place, taking in things he'd never laid eyes on before. Bright electrical signs on the wall that looked to be made of tubing, though they shone unnatural colors. One he could make out that read, "Pabst on Tap."
He turned to the stage and noticed one of the members of the band, a gentleman of color, taking a break to tune his brass instrument—an instrument Arthur had never once seen before.
He walked to the stage and smiled up to the man. "You sound terrific on that thing," he said with a chuckle to the end, his voice relaxed and low.
"Well, thank you, mister," the old man said with a smile. "Mighty good to hear that."
"W…what's it…called?" Arthur squinted one eye.
"A sax?" the man said, holding up the instrument with one hand.
"Sax…?"
"A saxophone," the man clarified, realizing only too late Arthur was serious.
"Saxophone," Arthur repeated with a nod, looking at the instrument. "Kinda like a…like a telephone? But with music?"
The man scrunched his nose and brows and simply turned to look back at his band mates, who shrugged.
"Ain't ever seen one before," Arthur said, rubbing behind his ear as the man turned back to him. "How long they been around?"
"Oh, it's gotta be…about a hundred years, brother!" the man chuckled.
"Hundred years! Really!" Arthur lifted his brows and huffed a laugh. "Things you didn't know… Well, you're really…doin' a really great job," he slowly shook his head. "And my wife loves it."
"Oh, I saw you dancin' with that real pretty lady!" he smiled and dabbed his finger at him, and Arthur was already nodding. "Stately little blonde, in the blue polka dot dress."
"That's the one," Arthur smirked.
"Ah…I saw you with her!" he said low, letting his volume rise a little as he smiled wide and started to laugh, and his band mates joined him in laughter. "Ohhh, you got it bad, brother, in the worst way! And for good reason!"
"Yeah, yeah," Arthur smirked, his face warming as he rubbed the back of his neck. "Gotta be a reason I put a ring on her, right?"
"Listen," the man said, bending at the waist and holding a hand out palm-down with a burgeoning grin on his face. "We'll both do our part to keep her happy, and call it square—I'll give her the tunes, and you give her the chilluns." He promptly leaned back and clapped his hands across each other once, laughing at his own wit.
Arthur couldn't help but wag his head and chuckle with a wheeze. "Sounds like a deal."
A few moments later the band was finished with their break, and the man was announcing to the people on the dance floor:
"All right now, folks, it's gettin' about that time. So our lovely lady here is gonna sing, and we're gonna play you a real nice slow one, made famous by the great Lady Day, to get all you love birds in the mood for midnight."
With a trill on the keys, the pianist started off the song, and Arthur watched as the lights dimmed just a little bit, and couples paired off around him on the dance floor. The trumpet flared quiet and low and smooth, and the woman on stage stepped up to the microphone to begin very slowly singing,
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"I'll be seeing you in all the old familiar places that this heart of mine embraces all day through..." ["I'll Be Seeing You," Billie Holiday, you tu . be /9l44_n60QQ8 ]
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Standing there still waiting for Eliza, Arthur began to look around and notice more things he'd never seen before. The men wore little pocket-watch faces on a leather strap on their wrists. When he looked up, he saw thin strips of colored paper hanging from the ceiling; and he saw the same type of thing hanging horizontally like banners on the walls. He walked over to examine them and found them to be very thin and light, almost crinkly to the touch.
It was then that Eliza made it back to the dance floor, rising on her tiptoes to look around and over heads for him. She finally caught sight of him inspecting the crepe paper banners on the far wall, and she stilled and had to look again, briefly bringing her brows together and almost chuckling.
But her mirth fell away as she watched him. He straightened his back and swung his arms, dipping his head and rubbing the back of his neck for just a moment as he walked back onto the dance floor. He hadn't seen her yet, and he simply stood there, looking around the place.
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"I'll be seeing you in every lovely summer's day. In everything that's light and gay. I'll always think of you that way..."
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She continued to watch him, as people passed in front of her between them. It wasn't as if Arthur was never fidgety or nervous or unsure of himself. Even so, something about him, in this moment...
Finally, Arthur saw her, and they connected eyes through the pairs of dancers, though the two of them weren't terribly far apart.
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"I'll find you in the morning sun. And when the night is new, I'll be looking at the moon, but I'll be seeing you!"
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They stood there on the dance floor, and her steady gaze held his fast, as if seeing straight to his soul. And the atmosphere within the moment somehow stilled, just a little bit.
Her voice was soft, quiet. "You're different tonight…Arthur."
He took a breath, taking in the sight of her deep, round, green eyes. He nodded, just slightly. He wanted to tell her everything, from his side of things—where he'd come from, how he didn't know why he was here, didn't know anything about this place. Or time.
Didn't know anything but her.
But he was transfixed to his spot by those eyes.
As the song ended, he finally decided to take a step towards her. But just then, with the briefest blink, he was somewhere else entirely, bouncing into a seat.
He quickly looked around and realized he was inside one of those covered wagon type things he'd seen earlier, with the wheel before him.
Before he'd even had a chance to get his bearings, he heard someone holler for him. He looked up to his right through the window in the door to see Eliza running towards him with a big, giddy smile on her face, her blonde ponytail quickly swinging back and forth behind her, books in her arms tucked tight to her chest, and her wide, felt pale blue skirt swinging and swishing as she went.
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The next few chapters will all be a continuation of this one dream. Trust me, you will know when the dream has ended.
*biting my lip* I hope you enjoyed the chapter! I've been really nervous/anxious about how these chapters will be received.
It will all make sense, I promise to you! I know it's probably nothing but very confusing right now. But, imagine, you are as confused as Arthur!
I don't expect any comments besides total confusion. And that's okay. If I've lost you, if you hate it, or if it's just not your thing, I completely understand. Maybe you can come back in a few chapters, to see how this part of the story works out?
If you have any questions or theories, please spout them off at me! But just know, even if you get close to the truth, I will NOT be telling you! 😉
To Paige, Ariana, and the 3 anonymous guests who left reviews on chapter 20-I see you! You are so sweet and kind to me! 5 reviews on 1 chapter, WOW! I don't think I've ever even come close to that before. 💕
Lastly, to all readers, if you're on Tumblr, please feel free to visit me there. My username is "rivetingrosie4". I'd absolutely love to chat with you about anything and everything, if you'd like! I can even give you any links, even from any prior chapters, if you weren't able to get to them.
Love to all,
Rosie