Page 21 of Christmas Past
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If it weren’t for the way Devynn’s chest rose and fell while she slept, Seth would have feared that she actually had succumbed to the over-exertions of all those time jumps. She looked so horribly pale, the usual pink in her cheeks nowhere to be found.
All she needs is rest, he reassured himself.
He just wasn’t sure whether he believed those inner words.
At least they wouldn’t have to worry about anyone disturbing them here. His cousin Margie was long gone, and it didn’t look as if anyone had designs on the apparently empty bungalow, even though someone clearly had been coming in to keep it clean. Because of that, Seth was pretty sure that he and Devynn would be able to camp out here for as long as necessary…or at least until the caretaker came by to sweep and dust.
They’d need food, though, and at least one change of clothes if they were going to be in 1948…or whenever this was…for anything longer than a few hours. But he wouldn’t leave Devynn alone, and since they’d eaten a big meal in 1926 not too long before they’d left, he knew he wouldn’t need to go foraging any time terribly soon.
Besides, while he might not have been as wrung out as she was, he knew all those jumps in time had exhausted him as well.
Might as well take a seat in the armchair near the couch, close enough so he would be right there when she awoke. He didn’t want to sit down on the opposite end of the sofa, worried that even the slightest movement might wake her.
So he settled himself in the chair, and he shut his eyes. Just for a minute or two, just long enough so he could try to give himself a few minutes of quiet.
And then he was gone.
He awoke to find pale morning light trying to push its way past those obnoxious blue and green curtains in the bungalow’s living room, and for just a second or two, he couldn’t remember where — or when — they were. Those curtains helped to ground him, though, and then the events of the previous day came flooding back…the failed jumps, Devynn’s collapse, their arrival in what certainly seemed to be the late 1940s.
He shifted in the chair that had been his bed the night before so he could check on Devynn, who was still curled up on the sofa where she’d fallen asleep. Her color looked better, not as flushed and rosy as he would have liked, but no longer the alarming gray pallor that had frightened him so badly when they first arrived here. Her breathing was deep and even, and when he got up from the chair — pausing for a second to rub his stiff neck — so he could lean down and touch the back of his hand to her forehead, her skin felt cool and normal.
Since it seemed as if she was still sound asleep, he tried to be as quiet as possible as he made his way to the kitchen to see what he could find there. Whoever had been maintaining the bungalow seemed to have kept it well-stocked with basic supplies…coffee, canned goods, even a bag of flour and another of beans. Either his cousin Margie was still checking on the place occasionally, or someone else in the clan had taken over that responsibility.
He put coffee on to brew and stood at the kitchen window, which looked southward on the quiet street. Although he didn’t claim to be an expert, the cars he saw parked there certainly seemed similar to the ones he’d seen when he and Devynn had been here in 1947, so he thought they must have arrived sometime close to that date.
It was strange, being back in a time so close to his own era and yet knowing he didn’t belong here. The houses looked familiar, but he was acutely aware that this wasn’t his world anymore. He was a visitor now, a tourist in the past.
The coffee finished brewing just as he heard Devynn stirring in the living room. When he returned, a cup in either hand, she was sitting up and looking around with a slightly bewildered expression, as if she wasn’t completely sure of where she was.
“How do you feel?” he asked as he settled himself beside her on the sofa.
“Better.” She accepted the coffee — sending him a look of utter gratitude as she did so — and took a careful sip. “Much better, actually. Like myself again.” She paused, then added with a rueful smile, “Well, mostly like myself, anyway. I still feel a little out of it, but nothing like yesterday.”
Seth studied her face, glad to see that the smudges of exhaustion around her eyes had faded and her cheeks had almost regained their normal color. “That’s good,” he said, and hoped she could hear the relief in his voice.
“What time is it?”
He checked his pocket watch. “Just past nine in the morning. You slept for almost fourteen hours.”
“No wonder I feel human again.” Devynn stretched, wincing slightly as she seemed to realize her neck was stiff…probably almost as much as his was. “Sleeping on a sofa isn’t exactly comfortable,” she added, “but I don’t think I would have cared if I’d been lying on a bed of nails.”
“Do you think you’re strong enough to explore a little?” Seth asked. “I’d like to figure out exactly when we are, and maybe see if we can find any of the family.”
Devynn nodded. “I think so. As long as we don’t have to do any more time jumping for a while.”
“No more jumping,” Seth assured her. “Not until you’re completely recovered.”
They took their time getting ready, using the updated 1940s bathroom and getting into their last change of clean clothes — which he knew would be almost as anachronistic in this decade as they’d been in the twenty-first century — and he was encouraged by how much more like herself Devynn seemed today. Maybe all she’d needed after all was a decent night’s sleep.
The morning air was warm but still pleasant as they made their way up toward Main Street. This Jerome had a different feel from the bustling mining town Seth remembered from 1926, but it wasn’t the desolate place they’d glimpsed in their brief stop in the 1930s, either. There was life here, people going about their business, even if the town had clearly seen better days.
McAllister Mercantile was still there, Seth was relieved to see, and had the same sign with the angular lettering above the door that he’d noticed in 1947. Through the windows, he saw movement inside — someone working, tending to customers. Maybe it wasn’t quite as bustling as the shop his parents and brother had managed back in the ’20s, but, like Jerome itself, the place appeared to be hanging on.
“Should we go in?” Devynn asked.
Seth hesitated. Part of him desperately wanted to see the store again, to walk through the aisles he’d known so well and possibly speak to whoever was running it now. At the same time, though, he couldn’t help worrying about any complications that might arise if he gave in to that impulse. What if they started asking questions he couldn’t answer?
