The Lilac Tunnel: My Journey with Samantha

I turn to Elsa and say that I can do the wash. Elsa reaches for my elbow and tells me to come along. I follow her across the backyard and into the house. Samantha follows, giving me a reassuring smile. We step into the kitchen, where a white-haired woman is stirring something in a pot on a bright blue stove. Elsa introduces her as Mrs. Hawkins, the cook. She smiles kindly at me. She’s wearing a starch white apron and black dress that reaches the floor. I look around the spacious kitchen, sensing something is missing. That’s when it hits me. There’s no dishwasher or microwave. There’s not even a refrigerator. Elsa tells me to follow her; Mrs. Edwards is in the parlor.

Elsa leads me down the hall into a fancy room where I see an elegant silver-haired woman writing a letter at a small desk. This might be Samantha’s grandmother. Elsa clears her throat to tell the woman that we are here, and she glances up. Her steel-gray eyes flicker over to me, and then back to Elsa. Elsa says the wash girl has arrived early from the city. There was a misunderstanding. She asks if I should be sent back. Mrs. Edwards looks me up and down, casting a distinct look of disapproval at my outfit. I wish I could blend into the rose-pattern walls behind me.

Samantha pipes up from the doorway and rescues me. She says that Ruby (me) must be tired from her trip to Mount Bedford. She asks if I can stay with them tonight? Mrs. Edwards seems surprised to hear from Samantha, but her eyes are kind when she says that I probably am tired. She says I can stay with them tonight and help with the preparations for Piney Point tomorrow. If all goes well, I can join them on the trip. Elsa should show me to my room and find me some proper clothing.

Elsa’s face darkens and she starts to lead me away reluctantly. But, Mrs. Edwards stops her and says that we should talk about wages first. If I stay, I’ll be paid a dollar a week for my service. She asks if that will be acceptable to my family. One dollar a week? I get more than that for my allowance, and that’s just for doing a few chores. I’m trying not to make a face when I notice the calendar on the wall above the desk. The year at the top reads 1904. 1904? I do a double take, but the numbers are crystal clear. Did I open a locket and travel back in time more than a hundred years? My head starts spinning again, and I reach for the frame of the doorway to steady myself. When I don’t answer, Samantha leans forward and asks if I’m all on my own. At that moment, I do feel very alone and confused.