Clockwise Page 8

“REMIND ME AGAIN, why I’m following you?”

  I let a sizable branch whip behind me, feeling a certain amount of satisfaction when it smacked Nate in the face.

  “Hey!”

  “Because I know where I’m going.”

  “Is that why we’re hacking through brush alongside the road instead of walking on the road?”

  We're hacking through brush because you asked me to dance on a dare. “Yup.”

  My dress didn’t provide much warmth for mid October, but my nervous energy kept me warm enough. The musty, damp smell of compost under our shoes wafted up as we trekked through the carpet of yellow and red leaves. I grabbed bare branches to keep from slipping; my shoes lacked traction and felt more like skates. The spotty foliage worked against concealing our presence.

  “Okay, you win.” Nate stopped, throwing his hands in the air. “It was a funny joke, but, you know, it’s getting old.”

  At that moment a carriage trotted around the corner towards us. Unlike Willie’s cart and goat, this carriage looked like it came straight out of Cinderella. The driver wore a suit with tails, and I glimpsed a wide brimmed fancy hat through one of the windows. I squatted down, pulling Nate with me. At least my yellow dress blended in.

  “What was that?” he said after it passed out of view.

  “Exactly what it looked like.”

  “Where are we, Casey?”

  “Like I told you yesterday, we’re just outside of Cambridge.”

  “Man, I’m messed up. I can’t get my bearings.”

  We got to the edge of the Cummings’ property. Smoke rose from the chimney of a two-story house set in from the road. I’d been here before and knew the Cummingses had lots of kids. Proof hung on the line out back, trousers of every size and several long linen dresses.

  Unfortunately, the yard wasn’t empty. Three young boys played ball with a puppy. I squatted low, motioning for Nate to do the same.

  “We’re going to have to wait it out.”

  “Wait what out? Why don’t we just go ask to use the phone?” He took a step out of the underbrush.

  “No!” I grabbed his arm and tugged him back so hard I stumbled, pulling him down on the ground with me.

  “Hey!” He landed with a soft thump, pressed up against my side. Close. I could feel his chest move as he breathed. Our eyes locked and I shuddered internally, like someone had pulled a thread from the seam of my being. I wondered if he felt it, too.

  “Sorry, Nate,” I said softly, “but you can’t do that.”

  Just then Mrs. Cummings walked out onto the deck and screeched like an army sergeant at her kids to come in for breakfast. She was a robust woman with an apron tied around a full, floor length gray skirt. She had that no-nonsense expression worn by some teachers I knew.

  Nate leaned up on one elbow, analyzing the scene. The puppy followed the little boys into the house and an older girl, also in a long dress and apron, stepped out of a chicken coop with a basket of eggs. I supposed to Nate, she looked like she was still in her nightgown.

  Mr. Cummings and the older boys had probably already eaten breakfast and were working at the textile mill. With the exception of a braying donkey, the yard was quiet. I had my window of opportunity.

  “Wait here,” I said. Nate seemed too stunned to argue. Despite my stupid shoes I moved stealthily through the brush, keeping low to the ground. My stomach grumbled, but I pushed thoughts of food aside. At the line I plucked a dress and a pair of trousers I hoped would fit Nate. I scurried away and thought I was home free until I heard the cocking of a gun.

  “Come back with my laundry, you low life trash!”

  A stout Mrs. Cummings stood on the porch with a rifle aimed in my direction. Nate’s eyes were as wide as quarters. Mrs. Cummings wasn’t messing around. A boom filled the air, a bullet splintering the tree to my left.

  “Run!”

  Nate and I sprinted into the denseness of the forest, two more shots whizzing over our heads. I lagged behind, my slippery shoes no help at all.

  “Nate!” He reached back and grabbed my hand, dragging me as he darted wildly through brush, dodging branches, lobbing over fallen trees. Nate may have been a star athlete, but I sure wasn’t. My lungs burned.

  “I think. She stopped.” I said, wheezing like an asthmatic. Nate stretched tall, listening. All quiet but for my rasping breath. Once I knew we were out of firing range, and that no one was chasing us, I paid attention to the fact that Nate was still holding my hand.

  Nate stared at me, utter disbelief on his face. “Casey? What the heck?”

  He released my hand and I tossed him the trousers.

  “Wow,” I said. “I’ve never been shot at before.”

  “You’re a freakin’ thief,” he said. I took a deep breath.

  “I like to think of it as a loan.”

  “You’re nuts, girl. Looney tunes.”

  Obviously he wasn’t fazed at all by our recent hand holding experience. “I’d put those on if I were you,” I said.

  He shook his head. “I think I’m done playing around, Casey.”

  “Fine,” I said with a grin. “But you split your pants.”

  He twisted around to look. A big rip ran down his left butt cheek to the back of his leg, revealing blue boxers. I think he actually blushed. I spotted a crevice in the side of the hill where I took my newly acquired article of clothing to change in privacy. The dress fit okay. A little short but just snug enough in the chest area. I still needed proper shoes and a hat, but I’d worry about that later.

  When I went back for Nate, I couldn’t find him. “Nate?” I scoured the area, but nothing.

  “Nate? Where are you?” I tried to guess which way he’d gone. “Na-a-a-te!” This wasn’t funny! What if I lost Nate? He couldn’t get back without me. There’d be a massive manhunt when I got back. They would know it was me somehow. I’d go to jail. “Nate!” How’d he survive here in the past alone? He’d get into trouble for sure. He’d go to jail. My throat was closing up with nerves. I couldn’t swallow. My forehead felt moist with perspiration. I had to find him. “Nate!”

  “I’m over here,” He came walking out of the trees, suit gone, trousers on, sleeves of his white shirt rolled up. Gorgeous.

  “Don’t do that to me!” I stammered.

  “What? Were you afraid? Little Miss I Know How to Survive.”

  Please God, could we just go back now? I didn’t know how much more of this I could take.

  “I’m not afraid for me.”

  He was staring again.

  “What?”

  “That dress suits you.”

  “Shut up.”

  “Hey, it was a compliment. Don’t bite my head off.”

  Did he really mean it? He thought I looked good? Nah. He was smirking.

  “Just stick with me from now on, okay?”

  “Yes, ma-am.” He saluted. I stormed away. I Hate Nate. He caught up effortlessly. We detoured south until we hit a dirt road.

  “What’s next?” Nate said. “Food, I hope. The guys better have beer and wings waiting.”

  Dream on, buddy. “There should be a highway or something, somewhere.”

  “We’re on a main road now,” I said.

  “I mean something paved.”

  “You could be waiting a while.” I’d planned to keep going past the Watson Farm because I was unprepared to answer to Sara. Though I doubted that she had minded being left alone with Robert Willingsworth. But by the time we arrived my feet were dying and my stomach protested bitterly. Nate added his complaints without restraint.

  “We’ve been walking for miles; we must be near a major roadway.”

  A vast lawn stretched toward the road from the front of the manor. A garden spread out behind it leading to the barn. In the distance, I could see the lake.

  “Wow,” said Nate. “They did a great job restoring this place.”

  “Actually, in our time, it’s a shopping mall.” Sara was in the garden along with a c
ollection of younger Watsons.

  “Jonathon and Michael, quit fooling around. If you want to eat this winter, you’ll mind me and get to work.” Mounds of potatoes and carrots dotted the soil and I nearly snatched one, dirt and all, to scarf it down.

  “Cassandra?” she said when she spotted me. Her eyes reviewed my attire and windblown hair. “What happened to you?” I’d been thinking of an excuse for the last five miles.

  “Sara, I’d like you to meet my brother, Nate, uh, Nathaniel.” He squinted at me. If I had to be Cassandra, he could be Nathaniel.

  “Like the author,” she said. Seeing his confusion she added, “Hawthorne, Nathaniel Hawthorne. She reached out her hand. “I’m Sara. It’s nice to meet you.” Then back to me. “Cassandra? What happened to you? You told Robert you were faint and left Faneuil Hall before Abby Foster even started her lecture. We searched everywhere for you. I was worried.”

  Nate listened with narrowing eyes. Then he scoured the yard and the sky. “Where are the power lines?”

  I noted Sara’s confusion. “Sara, we’ve had a long day of travel, and my brother isn’t feeling well…”

  “Oh, excuse my manners. Come in for some tea and I’ll fix you something to eat while you explain everything to me.”

  “Casey, I’m weirding out here.”

  “I already tried to explain,” I said. Sara glanced over her shoulder at us. I lowered my voice. “Let me do the talking, okay.”

  “Is this a commune? Why does everyone dress like that?”

  “Shh. Just keep your mouth shut.”

  We went through the back kitchen entrance and took a seat at the long wooden kitchen table. Though it was luxurious for 1860, I tried to see it through Nate’s point of view. The wood burning stove and grill, the kind you find in museums, small icebox, pitcher and large bowl for water. Nate’s eyes darted back and forth. I could sense him mentally trying to put together all the pieces.

  Sara cooked up pancakes and scrambled eggs, enough for an army. Soon we were surrounded by a mass of noisy, dirty children and choruses of “Move over, You’re in my spot, I was here first.”

  “Children!” Sara commanded. Amazingly, they fell immediately silent. “Josephine, please take a plate up to Mother.” To us, “Missy comes in three days a week to help out. Today is her day off.”

  Willie walked in, dropped a newspaper on the counter, pulled the chair at the head of the table out and sat down. He blew stray red curly locks from his eyes. I kept my head down, letting my loose curls hide my face. Did Sara mention my deception? Does Willie know that I’m a girl? Fortunately, the other smaller Watsons distracted him from me for the time being.

  Cobbs came in next, setting his big butt in the chair nearest the door. He didn’t care about manners and openly stared at me. Creeper! Willie said grace and everyone dug in, Nate and I wolfing down our serving in record time. Sara leaned back with a scowl on her face.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “Our manners are atrocious.”

  Cobbs finished quickly, offered a weak thank you and left.

  Willie must have been famished too. He waited until his dish was empty to speak. “I’m afraid my manners are dismal as well. Sara, I haven’t been introduced to our new friends.”

  Sara looked quickly at me. “This is Cassandra and her brother Nathaniel.”

  Willie studied me. Hard. So, Sara hadn’t mentioned my lie. I could see his mind computing, unbelieving. “C-Casey?” The hurt in his voice was loud and clear. Nate could tell something was up, and stopped eating.

  “You’re a girl?”

  “Willie, I pretended to be a boy, because it was easier for me to get work.”

  “But, we, uh, I…” I could tell he was trying to remember if he had taken any boy/hygiene liberties around me. He hadn’t, I'd made sure of that, for myself as well.

  Willie stood with a start. “Sara, you knew about this?”

  “It’s a recent discovery.” His face flamed red as his hair.

  “Willie,” I said standing with him, “I didn’t mean to deceive you.”

  He lifted the newspaper off the counter and slapped it onto the table. After a beat he left, letting the door slam behind him. Nate looked shell shocked by the whole exchange. He reached for the newspaper and scanned the front page. I read over his shoulder: The Boston Journal, October 11, 1860.

  Nate’s face paled. He didn’t look well. “Are you okay?” I said.

  “I thought you were joking,” he said weakly. Ah, he was converting.

  “You don’t look like brother and sister,” Sara said. Now what were we going to do? She’d caught us. Or so I thought. “Although, I don’t look like half my siblings either.” She walked to the door. “We have an empty workers’ cabin out by the lake. I’ll take you there.”

  My legs ached, and I barely had the strength to make it the hundred yards to the cabin. Nate followed in a zombie-like state. I hoped he wasn’t going into shock. The cabin was a small, maybe twelve by twelve wooden structure. A narrow footpath through high grass wound around from the front door to the back, I assumed to the outhouse.

  “You both look like you need a good night’s sleep.” Sara’s said. “Cassandra, I’ll expect you in the kitchen when the rooster crows tomorrow morning. Nathaniel, you can meet up with Willie in the barn.” She walked inside and opened the lone window.

  Now, quite honestly, I'd expected two rooms. Really. “We’re sharing?” I squeaked, but she had already gone back to the demands of her busy home.

  CHAPTER EIGHT