"Worlds Away" by Deborah Cullins Smith

                                                                                      WORLDS AWAY
                                                                                 
                                                                                             Part One

                                                                                   By Deborah Cullins Smith



“Jeremy, I said NO!” Angelica stated emphatically.  “You still have homework and you are not going to Andrew’s house until it’s all done.”

“But…”  came the plaintive whine.

“No buts,” she said, a little louder this time.  “Homework.  Now.”

Jeremy’s footsteps thumped on the stairs, his grumbling, anti-parent tirade low enough to be heard but not understood.

Angelica pursed her lips.  He’ll never see his ninth birthday, she swore silently.

“Mo---om,” came the sing-songy voice of twelve-year-old Carrie.  “Did you finish fixing my purple blouse today?”

Count to ten, Angelica instructed herself.  “No, Carrie, I’ll get to it this weekend,” she said with the beleaguered sigh of a woman who’d had just about all she could take for one day.

“But, Mo –o-oom,” Carrie groaned with the anguish of a girl who has just learned that her classroom crush is moving to the opposite coast – tomorrow.  “I told you I need it for class pictures.  You never listen to me.”  Tears of self-pity sprung up in the big brown eyes.

“Enough, Carrie,” Angelica said in exasperation.  “You’ve made your point.  I’ll try to get to it after supper.”

“Mo-o-ther,” she started in again.

Before Angelica could cut her off, the phone beeped.  She closed her eyes and pressed the heel of her hand against her forehead before grabbing the cordless handset from its base.

“Hello,” she snapped, her tone much sharper than she’d intended it to be.

“Whoa, Babe,” came a masculine voice.  “Bad day?”

Angelica released a sigh.  “Hi, Honey, and yes, it’s been a thoroughly lousy day,” she said.  “What’s up?  Please don’t tell me you’re working late again tonight.”

“We-e-e-ell, not exactly,” he said.  “Bob and I have a presentation to give to the regional manager.  He’s only in town for this evening, and flies out again early tomorrow morning.  So I want to bring Bob and Mr. Sanderson home for dinner tonight.  Then we can sit down in the den and discuss our proposals in a more informal atmosphere.”

“Jimmy, I don’t have time to throw together a fancy dinner.  It’s all ready four o’clock.  I’ve had two school conferences and a major battle with the phone company today.  Not to mention trying to balance the checkbook amidst an ocean of solicitation calls.  These people have been crawling out of the woodwork ever since you went online to find a new mortgage company.  And they…”

“Slow down, Ang, slow down,” Jimmy said, cutting off the building tirade.  “Angie, I really need you to do this.  I’m sorry.  Mr. Sanderson wasn’t supposed to come in until next week, but he’s got some problems at home, sick wife I think, and he has to cut his agenda short.  He’s flying back to Chicago tomorrow, and I don’t know when he’ll be able to get down this way again.  Come on, Angie, please.  I need you tonight.”

Angelica’s headache shifted into high gear.

“Look,” Jim continued, “it doesn’t have to be a banquet.  Steaks, baked potatoes, and a salad would be fine.  And it will be a late supper.  Probably eight o’clock.  Honey, Mr. Sanderson is stressed out to the max, but…”

“And I’m not?” Angelica retorted hotly.

There was a moment of silence before Jim continued.  His voice was calm, but there was a steely quality that made Angelica’s insides twist in hurt, angry knots.

“Angie, we need Mr. Sanderson’s approval for the expansion of the office.  I need your cooperation tonight.  This has to be a calm, laid-back evening, preferably without the kids.  You need to feed them early and send them upstairs.”

Angelica swallowed hot tears, not trusting her voice enough to speak yet.  It was so unfair that these things always landed on her shoulders.  Dinners like this were frequent impositions in her schedule.  Jimmy had struggled up the ladder, one painful rung at a time, from small business owner to a franchise in a much bigger piece of the corporate pie.

“Babe, you know that Darlene walked out on Bob last week.  There’s no one else to pull this together.”  Silence rippled over the phone line.  “Please?”

“OK, Jimmy,” she said with a sigh.  “I’ll do the best I can.”

“I’ll make it up to you, Honey,” he said softly.

Turning off the phone abruptly and plunking it into the base, Angie thought bitterly, Yeah, right.  A fiercely vicious bubble in her chest told her that maybe Darlene had the right idea.  Jimmy's promises were about as substantial as over-filled balloons.  She was asking herself more and more often these days just why she bothered to stay with a man who seemed to think marriage required no effort on his part.

They had made plans many times over the past several years.  Vacations, overnight get-aways, weekend campouts.  It never worked.

Four years ago, they tried six different times for weekend trips.  First, Jeremy ended up breaking his leg three days before their camping trip, which had been coordinated with two other families.  She ended up waiting on the cranky child hand and foot while Jimmy went on the trip.  

“No sense wasting the deposit,” he had reasoned.

Then a sudden business trip had disrupted a weekend getaway to Las Vegas.  Again, Jimmy flew out and Angie was left at home with a broken dryer, a head cold, and two kids with plans of their own that kept her firmly planted in the car with her Kleenex box.

A death in Jimmy’s family, a flooded basement, the emergency removal of Carrie’s wisdom teeth, and a fender bender that totaled the family van had cancelled two more campouts, a romantic overnight get-away, and their family vacation.

For two years, Jimmy’s business expanded, crashed, re-organized, and took off again, this time under corporate management.  His time and energy were consumed by work, leaving Angelica to cope with the children by herself.  Jimmy left for work before the sun rose and stumbled home well after the children’s’ bedtime every night.

Then last year, they had finally planned a three-week tour of England, Scotland, and Ireland.  It was all they had talked about for six months.  Planning, dreaming, it was supposed to reaffirm their marriage and bind their family back together by providing some quality time with the kids.

Two months before their departure, Angelica’s mother had a massive stroke.  Her father fell apart without his wife’s strong-willed presence.  Jimmy cancelled their vacation plans when it became obvious that Angie was going to be spending all of her time either sitting at her mother’s bedside or taking care of her father’s needs.  To her consternation, her father – once a tower of strength in her life – seemed utterly incapable of running a washer or dryer, or even a vacuum cleaner.  He even forgot how to prepare meals.  When she discovered he was living on bologna sandwiches and Cheerios, she took over his dietary needs, too.  After three months on life support, her mother slipped away from them in her sleep.  Angelica watched her father closely for several weeks before she made the appointment with a geriatric neurosurgeon.  Her father was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s disease.  She was running in circles trying to deal with her own family and her ailing father who kept ranting about how his wife dumped him for a male stripper.  

Early one morning, a state trooper awakened them with the news that her father had eluded his full-time caretaker and wandered out onto a freeway before dawn.  A sleepy truck driver on a long haul wasn’t able to stop quickly enough when the elderly man shambled across the highway.
 
For six months, Jimmy promised her a weekend away for just the two of them.  Somehow, one week slipped after another and the work obligations, school activities, and everyday disasters impeded their plans.  Angelica finally gave up.  When Jimmy would mention a trip, a campout, or a vacation, Angie would smile like a good little wife, but her heart stopped believing the empty promises.  She watched movies late at night when the kids had gone to bed and Jim was trapped at the office.  Historical movies were her favorites, and she longed for the simplicity of an era before cell phones, car phones, car pools, Little League, Girl Scouts, Boy Scouts, business dinners, social obligations, traffic jams, mortgages, and the pressures of life in the 21st century.  Enviously, she wondered what it would have been like to sit in the Queen’s chambers and sew or do needlepoint all day in a long, beautiful dress.  The children would be a lot more self-sufficient, (and much more obedient) and her husband would work hard, but he wouldn’t be running from city to city on business trips.

Angelica sighed.  No time for daydreaming right now.  Fortunately, she had made a market run this afternoon right after the meetings at the school.  She had a fantastic recipe for an Italian casserole with layers of noodles and a mixture of cream cheese, sour cream, cottage cheese and parmesan cheese with parsley flakes, topped with a made-from-scratch meat sauce.  That would be easy enough.  And since she had planned to fix this particular dish over the weekend, she had purchased all the necessary ingredients.  She started a large pot of water for boiling the noodles, and crumbled ground beef in a skillet to brown.  She studied the contents of the freezer thoughtfully and decided on a mixed vegetable combination in butter and herbs as a side dish, a fresh salad, and garlic bread to round out the menu.

While the herb-laced meat filled the kitchen with a mouth-watering aroma, Angelica gave the den a quick dusting and fluffing.  She called both kids down to tell them about their father’s plans for the evening.  Amidst the groans and the eye-rolling typical of their ages, she gave firm instructions about keeping the den spotless, their manners impeccable, and the early retreat to their rooms when the men arrived.

“But, Mom, my blouse,” Carrie moaned.

“I’ll fix it, Caroline Jane,” Angelica interrupted, her patience now orbiting Jupiter.  “As soon as meal preparations are rolling, I’ll stop and do the machine work on it.  Then I’ll do the hand sewing tonight after supper while the men have their meeting.  Now please stop nagging me.”

Carrie knew she was pushing it when her mother used her full name.  Her lips trembled with a teenager’s frustration and she gave one more eye-roll for good measure before trudging back upstairs to the world of junior high math and history.  Life just wasn’t fair.

Angelica made a smaller casserole and an extra loaf of garlic bread for the children, and boiled some small ears of corn on the cob for them, blessing the Jolly Green Giant for the bags in the freezer.  It was their favorite vegetable and something of a treat to make up for their enforced retreat for the evening.  They also received ice cream floats for dessert, another form of appeasement, which they dove into with delight.  While Carrie and Jeremy loaded their own dishes into the dishwasher and cleared the kitchen table, Angelica dressed the dining room table with lace over dark green cloths, crystal candle holders, and burgundy tapers.  She laid out the best china, heavy silverware, and sparkling crystal wine glasses, then chilled a bottle of wine in an ornate silver bucket.

Dinner was artistic perfection.  Angelica had taken the time to don a silky tunic over a pair of wide-legged lounging slacks, low heels, and artfully applied make-up.  She was every inch the gracious hostess by the time her husband walked in the door.

“Angelica,” Mr. Sanderson greeted her warmly.  “How kind of you to provide for this old codger at the last minute.  I hope that husband of yours appreciates what a wonderful woman he has.” He gallantly kissed her on the cheek and handed her a cellophane-wrapped bouquet of roses, unmistakably purchased hastily at Wal-Mart on their way home.

She thanked him profusely, and retreated to the kitchen for a vase.  The roses made a lovely centerpiece for the antique sideboard, where she made sure the fragrant display was prominent.

She nodded politely, allowing the men to dominate the conversation, but she added her comments just often enough to answer direct questions, or indicate fascination with their insights into the business world.

Bob looked terrible, pale, drawn, and totally stressed out.  She tried to conjure some remnant of sympathy for him.  But she knew why Darlene had left Bob, and spousal abuse was one thing she had little tolerance for.  She did wonder fleetingly if Darlene had finally decided to press charges, and if so, would Bob’s position with the company sway Mr. Sanderson’s decisions.  Since he was an out-of-towner, perhaps he wasn’t aware of Bob’s personal problems.

When the men denied they could eat one more bite, they retreated to the den, while Angelica cleared the table.  She did her best to move about quietly so she would not disturb the sanctity of their meeting.  Jimmy was funny about little things like that.  He once told her that clanking dishes and silverware seemed to broadcast the fact that she was still hard at work, while the men, preoccupied with business or pleasure, did nothing to help.  It made for an uncomfortable restlessness with his guests.  As usual, Angelica acquiesced and kept the rattle and clatter to a painful minimum.  She had finally put away the last of the leftovers and finished hand-washing her delicate china and crystal, when she heard voices in the hallway.  She made her final obligatory hostess appearance to say good night as Bob and Mr. Sanderson departed.  When the door had closed, Jimmy and Angelica both sagged visibly.

“How did it go?” she asked

“As well as we could expect, I guess,” he said wearily.  “He’s going to look over all of our proposals and give us an answer sometime next week.”

“Was … well … did I …” Angelica hated fishing.  It made her feel guilty, and more than a little angry that Jimmy never bothered to express appreciation for her efforts.  “Was dinner OK, Jimmy?”

Jimmy gave her a blank look.  “Yeah, Ang, dinner was fine.”  He passed a hand over his face as if trying to wipe away the stress of the day.  “I’m beat, Honey.  I’m going to bed.”  He started up the steps, then turned when she didn’t follow him.  “You coming?”

Maybe the expression on her face was too enigmatic; maybe he was just too tired to catch her mood; or maybe he just didn’t care what she felt.

“I still have to finish loading the dishwasher,” she said, her voice suddenly frosty.  “Then I have to finish Carrie’s blouse before tomorrow morning.”

“Oh,” he said, still looking like a man who had somehow found himself inexplicably set adrift in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean.  “Can’t it wait?”

“No,” she said, still looking up at him, that odd, cold look in her eyes.  “I promised her.  I don’t want to break my promise.”

Jimmy frowned a little, then shook his head.  If he caught the subtle rebuke, he didn’t show it.  “I’ve got an early morning.  I’m going on to bed.”  He turned and trudged up the stairs with a final “see you in the morning” tossed over his shoulder.

Angelica bit her lip, refusing to allow even the hint of a tear until he had closed the bedroom door.  She kicked off her shoes, and they slammed against the bottom step, before she returned to the kitchen.  Standing in front of the sink, Angelica gripped the stainless steel sink with whitened knuckles and let the tears stream silently down her cheeks.

Would it have killed him to say, “Great job, Angie!  The food was wonderful.  Thank you for going to all that trouble at the last minute.  What would I do without your support?” Anything, any hint of appreciation, would have made the whole lousy day worthwhile.  He never even asked about the school conferences.  Carrie’s snotty attitude was getting her in trouble with several of her teachers.  And Jeremy had instigated more than one disturbance in the classroom, usually as the class clown, making disparaging parodies of the teachers.  The counselor had asked if there was trouble at home, citing that these were usually the signs of a boy who didn’t receive enough attention from his father.

And did Jimmy care that she was dealing with all the phone calls from the mortgage companies that he had made inquiries with?  He was the one who submitted their phone number, and she was left to deal with the deluge of questions.  Why couldn’t he even offer to help in the kitchen?  She would most likely have insisted that he go on to bed while she finished up, knowing how stressful this meeting had been.  But he didn’t even offer, didn’t seem to care that her day hadn’t been easy either.  He had to get up early?  Was he under some delusion that she would be allowed to sleep late?

Angelica slammed one of the serving bowls into the dishwasher and swore quietly when it broke against the top rack.  Disposing of the jagged fragments, Angie finished her chores and turned off the kitchen lights.  She stopped to glare at the flowers on the sideboard.  She had an unreasonable urge to rip them from the vase and heave them into the garbage with the broken bowl and table scraps.  She gave the colorful rosebuds a wobbly smile and wiped her faced with a Kleenex.  No need to blame the bouquet – or even Mr. Sanderson – for her lousy day and temperamental disposition.

She curled up on the couch and picked up Carrie’s blouse with a sigh.  The silky shimmer of the fabric was part of some new fad, one that the younger girls were adopting to imitate their older, sexier counterparts strutting about the local high school.

Why do they try to grow up so fast, Angelica wondered with a sigh.  At twelve, I was still playing with Barbie dolls.  What happened to childhood?

She sewed the new silver and purple buttons in place, knowing that the top two buttons would undoubtedly be unfastened as soon as Carrie was out of her eyesight.  She’d caught her trying to act like a vamp a few times, tying a shirttail up to expose her midsection, or rolling a waistband beneath a tight sweater to shorten her skirt.  Angelica had tried to explain the dangers of provocative behavior, but rolled eyes and long-suffering sighs of martyrdom let her know how well her admonitions were being received.

Angelica slipped the blouse over a plastic hanger and draped it over the back of the couch.  She rested her head against the soft micro-fiber cushion.  Such a long day.  So many problems, so many hoops to jump through.  And not just today.  Everyday was like this.  The phone, the car, the shopping, meals, virtually single-parenting – since Jimmy was always working, the unexpected, the catastrophic…

Angelica massaged her throbbing temples with her fingertips, then kneaded her neck muscles in a useless effort to ease her tense frustration.  She remembered the early days of their marriage when Jimmy would work the knots out of those tight muscles.  Massages usually turned into love-making back then, but those days were long past.

“Tough day?” a soft feminine voice intruded on her thoughts.

Angelica’s eyes shot open and she blinked.  “I’m dreaming!” she gasped.

The shimmering figure before her wore a diaphanous gown of a silvery gossamer weave with long trumpet-shaped sleeves that floated from her wrists like a butterfly’s wings.  Her long dark brown hair cascaded about her face and shoulders in tight ringlets, and her deep green eyes glowed in a porcelain oval face.

Her smile was wry as she tilted her head and asked, “Now why would you think you’re dreaming, Angelica?”

“You don’t look … real,” Angie stammered.  A new thought struck her.  “You know my name?”

“Of course!” The woman’s light laughter was almost musical.  “Just think of me…” she tapped a perfectly tapered finger against her chin as if searching for an understandable parallel for a not-so-bright child, “… as your …. Hmmmm … fairy godmother!” she exclaimed, as though the idea had just popped into her mind.  “That’s it.  Just like Cinderella.  Angelica, I am Lilith, your Fairy Godmother.”  She executed a flamboyant bow, arms extended, torso bent forward at the waist.

Angelica shook her head sharply, as if trying to awaken herself from a daydream … or a nightmare.

This is it, she thought.  I’m having a nervous breakdown.  Maybe a psychotic episode.  It’s been coming on for a long time, and this is it.

“Now why would you think that?” asked the clearly-amused apparition with arched eyebrows.
 
"Think what?” asked Angie guiltily.
 
“Yes, well,” the woman cleared her throat delicately.  “You are wondering if your mental faculties have suddenly deserted you.  The list of possibilities scrolling through your over-worked, under-appreciated imagination now include…” she paused as if perusing an invisible parchment attached to Angelica’s forehead, “… nervous breakdown, brain tumors, Alzheimer’s, psychotic symptoms, early mid-life crisis…  Should I continue?” asked Lilith  

Angie’s mind was indeed reeling through the various options her visitor was ticking off!  

Lilith stopped and gave the flabbergasted woman a look of exasperation.  “We are going to get absolutely nowhere, Angelica, until you can accept me for who I am.”

Angelica remained silent as her heart hammered against her ribs.

“All right,” Lilith said with a roll of her eyes that would have put Carrie to shame.  “Let’s just suppose, for the sake of argument, that I am really your Fairy Godmother.  If I could grant you just one wish, what would it be?”  Angie continued to stare.  “Come on, now, what would it be?” coaxed the strange woman.  “There must be some wish, some secret little desire, you harbor in the very deepest part of your soul.  Tell me.”

Angelica shook her head mutely.

“Money?”  the woman coached.  “Fame?  One night in the arms of your favorite movie star?”

Angelica stared at Lilith.  It was ludicrous, but what the heck?  It was a game, a diversion, even if it was only a dream.

“No,” Angelica said at last.  “Those things usually lead to more complications instead of any lasting enjoyment.”

Lilith seemed impressed with this answer, and considered Angie thoughtfully.  “Would you have been happier if you’d never had children, or maybe never met your husband?”

Angelica frowned.  “No.  I love my kids, and I do still love Jimmy, in spite of our difficulties.”  She drew in a deep breath and closed her eyes.  “I just wish we all lived in a simpler time.  An era of knights and ladies, manners and chivalry, a slower pace, gardens and needlepoint.”  She opened her eyes and smile whimsically at Lilith.  “A pretty dream, isn’t it?”

Lilith smiled.  “Simple life indeed!  Are you sure you wouldn’t be bored?”

Angelica laughed.  “Well, it’s only a dream.  After all, time travel isn’t possible except in the movies.”

Lilith’s full red lips curved into an amused smile.  “Maybe.  Then again, maybe this is the one wish in your life that will come true.  You’ll know in the morning.  Ta-ta, Angelica.”

And she was gone.

Angelica blinked and scrubbed at her eyes with both fists.  “I really need some sleep,” she told herself.  “I’m starting to unravel when I see fairy godmothers in my living room.”

Grabbing the blouse and her discarded shoes, she tiptoed upstairs, stopping briefly to hang the blouse on Caroline’s doorknob before slipping into the master bedroom.  Jimmy’s snoring never faltered as she stripped down and donned a white cotton nightgown.  She was asleep the instant her head hit the pillow.

                                                                        ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~


“Sir James!” cried a deep voice, as a fist banged against a wooden door.  Angelica moaned as wakefulness stole up on her in bits and pieces.  She reached for the clock on the nightstand, but her fingers fell on coarse bed linens.  She fumbled for the edge of the bed, and found Jeremy curled up in a ball.  What was Jeremy doing in their bed?  She opened her eyes and gazed up in confusion at wooden beams and rough stone walls.

Jimmy was pulling on rough tan trousers and a long tunic that touched his knees.  He reached for a thick leather belt and a sheathed sword.

What on earth was he wearing?  Where was the clock?  Where was the bedroom?

“Ye best be rising, m’lady,” he said with a lascivious grin.  “Ye’ll miss the last of the bread unless ye hurry.  Up lad!” he said, poking Jeremy with the scabbard tip.  “Ye’ve chores to do before your lessons.”

“Wh-where’s Caroline?” Angelica asked, almost afraid to hear the answer.  

“Why, I imagine she’s in the kitchen all ready,” James said with a laugh.  “Seeing how her side of the bed is empty!  Now up, up!  There’s work to be done.”

James strode out of the room, and masculine laughter filled the hallway, echoing against stone walls.

“I’m still asleep, and this is just a dream,” Angelica whispered to herself.  She pinched herself hard on the arm.

No, that hurt, she decided.  But how in the world…?  Then she remembered her curious visitor last night and bolted upright.  It was true!

Jeremy bailed out of bed, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, and snatched up a small leather belt as he ran for the door.  Turning abruptly, the child leapt onto the bed and hugged his befuddled mother before bounding out the door.

Angelica sat in the middle of the rustic bed, a human stone, as cold as the massive walls rising on all sides.  Her mind refused to function, but her eyes darted around the room frantically.  One room, one bed, no bathroom, no closet, no curtains, an odor like a backed up sewer, a dingy yellow gown that looked like it hadn’t been washed in weeks, and a metallic, coppery smell that was familiar and yet it eluded her…  It was a nightmare.  It had to be a nightmare.  Angelica tried closing her eyes and opening them again, then again.  Still here.  She pinched herself.  No.  No change.

“Lilith?” she whispered tentatively.  “Lilith?” she called a little louder.  She wanted to shriek the name, but feared the stampede that a scream might arouse.

“What is it, Angelica?”  The musical voice came from a dark corner of the room, and Lilith stepped into Angelica’s line of sight.  

The dazed woman drew a shaky breath and let it out.  “Oh, thank God,” she murmured.  “Lilith, what on earth is going on here?  Where am I?  When am I?  And when can I go home?”  The questions tumbled out in frantic confusion.

“Home?  You are home,” Lilith replied with raised eyebrows.  She hoped Angelica had not seen the brief flash of anger in her eyes for that tiniest fraction of a second.  “This is what you wished for.  Remember?  A simple life.  No cell phones, no car phones, no appliances to break down, no mortgage lenders…  No complications.”

“But…” Angelica stammered.  “But… what do I do?  Where’s Caroline?  Do we all sleep in one bed?   Lilith, help me, please.  Where’s the bathroom?  What do I wear?  What do I do?”

Lilith shook her head in amusement.  “Humans always amaze me,” she said.  “You wish for things and you don’t have an inkling what the consequences will be.”  Lilith assumed a lecturer’s mode and instructed Angelica patiently.

“First, you are Lady Angelica, head seamstress in the Great Lady’s chamber.  By day, you labor to do her bidding, whatever that may be.  Lady Augustina is the jealous, ill-used wife of Sir Robert of Calstrom.  You don’t want to make an enemy of her.  She loves your needlework and keeps you busy.  Mostly, you make her garments and embellish them with fine embroidery work.  You also teach needlework to the rest of her entourage, which is comprised of the young wives of her husband’s knights.

“Your husband is one of Sir Robert’s most valued knights.  He trains many of the young men in Sir Robert’s service.  You are both very highly placed, but in this century, that can change in the twinkling of an eye.  You must tread very carefully, Angelica.  But, all in all, you have a very comfortable life compared to the rest of the people of this country.”

Lilith took a deep breath and continued her lecture.  “Caroline is a servant, also at Lady Augustina’s beck and call.  At this moment, she’s in the kitchen plucking pheasants for tonight’s feast.  Not her favorite chore, but since she has a tendency to complain, Lady Augustina often gives her duties she is known to hate.  You’ll see her off and on during the course of the day, and naturally, tonight.

“Jeremy is a page, but he has already begun some of his training with swords and knives.”

Angelica blanched.  “My eight-year-old son is handling weapons?”

Lilith’s eyebrows raised another notch in amusement.  “Of course, Angelica.  As are all the other young sons of Sir Robert’s knights.  He’d be the butt of some very derisive speculation if he wasn’t preparing for manhood.”

Tears filled Angelica’s eyes, and Lilith’s patience showed signs of wearing thin.  “Angelica, life here is quite different from the 21st century.  Children achieve adult status in their mid-teens, at the latest.  Adults are middle-aged by their thirties, and old at fifty.  Life is shorter, more tenuous.  But it is simple, which is what you wanted.  Life here isn’t about possessions or advanced education or technology.  It’s about survival.  You’ll find it much more elementary once you’ve adjusted to the lack of a few little amenities.”

“What kind of amenities?” Angelica asked apprehensively.

Lilith grinned at her and tried to keep the laughter out of her voice.  “Well, my dear, you mentioned a bathroom.  The chamber pot is under your bed.  I believe you caught a whiff of it when you first woke up.  There is no sink or shower.  In spring and summer, you may take advantage of the river just a short walk from the castle.  I would advise you not to go alone.”  She forestalled the questions hovering on Angelica’s lips.  “For now, just take my word for that.”

Angelica looked at the rumpled bed, so recently occupied by her entire family.  “What about… well… intimacy?” she asked.

Lilith’s laughter was gay and teasing.  “Well, let’s put it this way, my innocent god-daughter, privacy is not a priority here!  You’ll notice you only have one room for your entire family.  By and large, acts of intimacy are ignored by the children, and pleasure is taken whenever and wherever the mood strikes.  If you thought the counterculture of the 1960’s was free and wild, you’ll be shocked at the lack of inhibitions in this world!”

Angelica swallowed hard and blushed deep crimson.  Children were allowed to witness sex between their parents?  It was positively indecent!

Lilith’s smile held a lewd edge.  “You are so naïve, Angelica,” she said, shaking her head.  “You and James have a room of your own – for your family, that is.  You are part of the privileged few.  Most of your lord’s subjects sleep in the Great Hall on the floor, and they take their pleasures with no privacy whatsoever.”

Angelica’s jaw dropped this time.  They never taught this in World History!  Nor did they portray it in films.

“Then there is a matter of meals,” lectured Lilith, as she paced languidly about the room.  “There is only one meal served daily.  In late afternoon, everyone meets in the Great Hall for the banquet.  It won’t exactly be the type of feast you treated Mr. Sanderson to, but at least you won’t starve.”  Lilith’s mocking smile held a hard edge as she added, “Which is more than you can say for the peasants.”  She resumed her leisurely inspection of the room, and Angelica’s eyes followed her, panic rising with each new revelation.  “You can go to the kitchen or the Great Hall and grab a quick bite of bread or a leftover from the previous night’s feast, but you would be wise not to dawdle too long.  Your mistress isn’t that patient.”

“How on earth will I be able to help my children adapt to this… this… this savage lifestyle?” she whispered in despair.  “What have I done?”

“Angelica, dear,” Lilith laughed.  “They don’t have to ‘adjust’ to anything.  As far as they’re concerned, this is the only life they’ve ever known.”

“What?”  gasped Angelica.

“Of course,” she said with that intense smile.  “This is your fantasy, not theirs.  Only you retain your memory of another world, another era.  They remember only this life.  Later, you’ll remember it as they do, right down to your childhood, your marriage, and the births of your children.”  Lilith paused to caress Angelica’s stricken face with one finger.  “You’ll love it, my dear.  It’s the simplicity you longed for.  Remember?”

Angelica squeezed her eyes shut and shuddered.  What have I done? She asked herself again.

“Come now,” Lilith commanded briskly.  “It’s time for you to be up and dressed.  Lady Augustina will be wondering where you’re hiding.”

Angelica scrambled out of the huge bed and looked down at the rumpled linen shift.  Lilith saw that deer-caught-in-the-headlights look and heaved an exasperated sigh.  “Must I dress you now?” she asked ruefully.  “Make use of the chamber pot while I pick out your gown for the day.”

“No…” stammered Angelica.  “I don’t need…”  She stopped.  This was impossible.

Lilith had turned to a row of hooks along one wall and selected a dark green gown with long trumpet-shaped sleeves.  When Angelica moved to slip off the ugly yellowed gown, Lilith stopped her.  “No, no, my dear, that stays on,” she said.

“But I slept in it,” Angelica protested.

“Yes, and you’ve worn it for the past week.  But you just washed your other chemise a few days ago.  You’ll wear this one for another week or more,” Lilith instructed.  Catching sight of Angelica’s expression of disgust, Lilith once again showed strained patience.  “You don’t have a washer and dryer anymore, child.  No one has the luxury of an unlimited wardrobe in this century.  As one of Lady Augustina’s personal entourage, you have two chemises and three outer garments.  That’s twice as much as most people in this era.  Lady Augustina purchases her fabrics from caravans returning from the Orient.  They’ve been returning with the Crusaders periodically.  Her fabrics are dyed in the rich colors that denote her rank and position in the aristocracy.  The Lady buys several bolts at a time.  When the pot of dye is prepared, her bolt is first, giving her the richest colors.  Then bolts are dyed for her ladies in waiting.  That would be you, my dear.  Then more bolts are dyed, and those are given to the garments of the children and servants.  Each bolt dyed comes out lighter and lighter, denoting one’s station in the household.  When your clothes become worn, or new fabric is made available to you for new gowns, yours are given to the poor.  And any unbleached cloth is given to the poor as well.  That’s the way this society works.  Really, my dear, you must show a little gratitude.  I’ve placed you in the higher echelons of the feudal system!”  She helped Angelica slip the green folds over her head, then she tugged at the laces on both sides and adjusted the dress.  It was a flattering color, in spite of the ugly chemise showing at the neck and hem.  

“But I haven’t showered… er… bathed yet,” Angelica protested.

“Oh, baths,” Lilith waved an elegant hand dismissively.  “As I said before, you only take those two or three times a year.”  Lilith smiled derisively.  “As a matter of fact, you can bathe in your chemise, and wash yourself and your undergarment simultaneously.”

Oh, God, Angelica thought in horror.  Two or three times a year?  It was an appalling revelation.

“Don’t be so prudish,” Lilith scolding reprovingly.  “Just think of it this way – no more water bills!”

Reaching for an ecru square of cloth, Lilith draped her head with the fabric and secured it with a circlet of metal.  Angelica felt like Olivia deHavilland in “The Adventures of Robin Hood”, with Errol Flynn.  So much for late night movies…

“Must I wear this headpiece?” she asked, fidgeting under Lilith’s skillful fingers.  “I’ve always hated hats of any kind.”

“Of course, you must,” Lilith commanded.  “No lady of quality would dream of appearing in public with her head uncovered.  Only the ‘available’ women run about flaunting their hair.”

The implications of that statement hit Angelica like a stone from the massive walls, and she felt ill.  In that case, she’d glue the blasted thing to her head!  Oh, wait, she told herself.  No glue in this century either.

Lilith stood back to survey her handiwork and nodded approvingly.

“Now hurry!” she said, urging Angelica out the door and into the hallway.  “You’re already late.”

“But…” Angelica turned to face Lilith as the door closed behind her.

Lilith had vanished again.

A door opened, and Angelica jumped, startled, when a young woman stumbled out of the next room.  She was almost a child, but her distended stomach indicated an advanced stage of pregnancy, and she waddled in that off-balanced fashion that Angelica remembered so well from her own experiences.

“Oh, Lady Angelica,” the girl gasped.  “I’m so glad… I mean… I thought I was the only one to arise late this day.”

Late?  Angelica thought.  The sun was barely up.  But she nodded, and tried to look sympathetic.  The young woman couldn’t be more than sixteen or seventeen at the most.  Far too young to be having a baby, at any rate.

Angelica swallowed hard and smiled encouragingly at the girl.  “Good morning.  How are you feeling this morning?”

“I fear I don’t fare well today,” the girl sighed apologetically.  “I did not have an easy night.”

“Did you have pain?” questioned the older woman with concern, thinking the child had been in labor and not recognized the symptoms.

“Nay,” she answered with a timid smile.  “It could come anytime, of course, but… well…”  the girl seemed embarrassed.

“Go on, child,” prompted Angelica, taking her arm and walking down the hallway toward a steep stairway.
   
“Sir Thomas… well…” the girl seemed to stumble for words.  “He… seems to grow more… insistent… as I grow in girth.”

“Insistent?” Angelica questioned blankly.

“Yes, insistent” the girl added awkwardly.  “His… thrusts … are rougher.  He says it is because my body is so distasteful that he wishes to … finish…” her voice trailed off as an icy fist congealed in the pit of Angelica’s stomach.

“But he should not be ‘insisting’ at all!” exclaimed Angelica indignantly before she could stop herself.  “Not this close to your delivery.”

The young woman stopped to stare at her in astonishment.  “What mean you, Lady Angelica?” she asked.  “All men take their pleasure when they wish.  You know he would beat me unmercifully if I denied him!  It isn’t … seemly.”

Angelica bit her lip.  She’d already blundered, and she didn’t even know the girl’s name yet.  “No, of course not,” she amended hastily.  Putting a comforting arm around the girl’s thickening waist, she tried to manufacture a plausible cover for her feminist tirade.  “My own James saw my discomfort at this stage and did not force his attentions upon me when it began to hurt.  I suppose… I am luckier than most.”

A servant girl backed out of a room to their left and almost collided with them.  The smell of human waste arose from the bucket in her hand, as she skidded to a halt, abruptly bobbing a curtsey when she saw the two women.  “Lady Angelica, Lady Chantell.”  She slipped into another room, obviously to empty the chamber pots.  But she had given Angelica the young lady’s name, Lady Chantell.

Lady Chantell sighed and rubbed her swollen belly, picking up the thread of their conversation.  “I fear Sir Thomas demanded his pleasure right up until the day of my delivery with Ian.  His… manhood never suffers deprivation,” she smiled ruefully, completely oblivious to the rising anger in the older woman beside her.  “And he had his way with me even as I labored with little John.  Of course, he was drunk at the time,” she said, excusing her husband’s vile behavior.  Angelica felt hot words bubbling up, but she bit her tongue as the girl continued.  “I’m grateful to God that both boys are healthy though, after losing my two babes a season too soon the year before.”

Angelica patted the girl’s arm consolingly, but her mind was racing.  Two miscarriages, two children, and another on the way?  How young had this child been when she married?

“You will show me that stitch for the border of my tapestry today, will you not, my lady?  You said you would teach me,” the girl seemed to cling to Angelica’s arm a little tighter as they descended the steep stone stairs.  Angelica wondered again if the girl could possibly be in early labor, or if she was just an insecure child, seeking approval in some area of her abused existence.

“Surely,” Angelica said, hoping it was a stitch she knew how to do in both centuries.  She was purposely allowing Lady Chantell to lead the way.  Lilith’s sketchy instructions had not included a map of the castle, or navigational directions.

They entered the Great Hall, a huge room filled with heavy oak tables and long narrow benches.  The floor was strewn with straw and stank of sweat, urine, rotted food, and … something else.  What was that stench?  Then Angelica’s stomach turned as she recognized the odor:  feces.  Servants were busily raking up the straw and shoveling it into carts to be hauled away.  Another group was maneuvering into the Hall with bales of fresh straw to be laid down in place of the old, soiled refuse.

“Oh, thank the Lord,” sighed Chantell.  “I couldn’t eat a bite last eve for the smell of the thrushes.  I’m so glad the floor is being raked clean today.  ‘Tis long past due.”

Angelica wondered how often this function was performed, but was dreadfully afraid to ask.

The women proceeded to the kitchen area.  Angelica saw Caroline sitting by the enormous hearth, plucking savagely at a freshly killed bird.  Her dress was a pale blue, and her dark brown hair tumbled about her sullen face.  She glanced up long enough to see her mother enter, before looking pointedly back down at the bird.  Angelica sighed.  Evidently, some things did not change from one era to the next.  The mother stared at her daughter and felt a pang of fearful dread.  What fate would her own daughter suffer because of her careless wish?

Chantell found a round lump of bread and broke off two large pieces.  Shyly, she handed one to Angelica.  The last thing she wanted to do right now was eat, but she had no idea when food would be readily available again, so she accepted it with a forced smile.

“She still does not speak with ye?” the girl asked softly.

Angelica glanced up sharply.  Of course.  Chantell had the room right next door.  If there were any loud altercations with her rebellious daughter, Chantell probably heard every word.  Besides, Angelica felt fairly certain that the gossips in the castle let nothing go unnoticed.  There would be no secrets in a closed community like this one.

“No,” she sighed.  “I guess not.  I suppose all mothers go through these tribulations with their daughters.”  She tried to smile, but her lips wobbled.

Chantell’s eyes filled with tears.  “’Twould not be so if my own mother still lived, God rest her soul.  I would give anything to have her with me still.  Especially…”

Angelica’s heart went out to the child.  Lilith’s words rang in her ears.  “Life is shorter, more tenuous…”  She wondered how long ago the mother had died, but dared not ask.  If she had supposedly grown up in this life, she should most likely know the answer.

“Ye’ve always been kind to me, Lady Angelica,” the girl said timidly, as she sipped a cup of water.  “Ye will help me, won’t you?  When my time comes?”

Angelica felt hot tears trying to force their way past the soccer ball lodged in her throat.  “Of course,” she said, swallowing hard.  “If you wish me to be there.”

The girl heaved a sigh of relief and Angelica wondered, for the umpteenth time, what she’d gotten herself into now.



The two women hurried to Lady Augustina’s chambers.  Angelica followed Chantell’s lead and tried to memorize the passageways and corridors between the main rooms of the large castle.  A dozen or so women sat scattered about the large, high-ceilinged room, busily sewing and gossiping.  Angelica paid close attention to names and faces, as greetings rippled through the bevy of ladies.

An austere woman, hideously ugly but regal in manner, cleared her throat and the voices died down instantly.  Lady Augustina was in her mid-thirties, a dark-haired, bitter woman with hard black eyes and a cruel mouth set in an angry face.  Her pear-shaped figure was clothed in a deep burgundy gown that was embroidered around the neck and sleeves.  When she spoke, her voice was cold enough to freeze a lake.

“I had thought to send for one of our valiant knights to seek you out,” Lady Augustina observed bitingly.  “I felt you must surely be held captive, or left lying mortally wounded in a passageway to be so late arriving.”

“I plead for your pardon, my Lady,” Angelica said, lowering her eyes to keep from broadcasting her instant dislike for the hateful woman.   “Lady Chantell moves more slowly these days, and I stayed to help her on the stairs.  We don’t want her to fall, do we, my Lady?”  If she thought to appeal to the Grand Dame’s sympathetic nature, she failed miserably.  The woman obviously had none.  And that last question hung in the air like a cheeky reprimand, which brought a sharp gasp from some of the older ladies in the room.

“Then perhaps,” the Grand Lady snapped imperiously, “you would both do well to rise a little earlier.”

Angelica felt her blood boil and her cheeks burn, but she kept her eyes lowered as she and Chantell both dropped deep curtseys and murmured, “Yes, My Lady.”  Angelica slipped Chantell an apologetic look and felt horrible to realize that the girl was almost in tears from the harsh rebuke.

Simple life, indeed, thought Angelica as she sat beside Chantell.  The stitch she wished to learn was a simple chain stitch, much to Angelica’s relief, and the girl picked up her instructions readily.  Soon her needle was plunking in and out of the taut fabric in quick, even stitches.

“Lady Angelica,” the Great Lady ordered imperiously.  “If you have finished with your lessons, I wish to discuss the trim for my new gown.”

“Of course, My Lady,” Angelica nodded submissively, and the remainder of her day was spent suggesting colors and designs with the peevishly temperamental Lady of the Castle.  Gold and silver threads were to be woven into a motif of the most intricate nature onto the newly acquired cloth, dyed of deepest purple.  It took all of Angelica’s patience to rework the sample swatch until the Great Lady was, at last, appeased.  The gown would be unsurpassed, but the needlework would demand hours and hours of sewing.  Angelica could not help but remember her desire to do nothing but sit and stitch with other ladies in a simpler day and age.  She never dreamed that one little wish could have proven to be more disillusioning.

Little did she know that her day was only beginning.  It would grow worse with the passing hours – much worse.