The Lilac Tunnel: My Journey with Samantha

I stammer out that my name is not Ruby. Elsa leans forward and says then in that case, I should explain what I’m doing here. Samantha winces at Elsa’s words. She says that I look quite nice in my bloomers. But she asks where my bicycle is. I follow her eyes toward the hedge, as if a bicycle will appear. Samantha then asks if I crashed. I have a bump on the side of my head. Elsa’s face softens as she examines my head. It has started to throb. Elsa says it’s a goose egg if she ever saw one. I should come inside and let Mrs. Hawkins have a look. I don’t argue. I’m starting to feel kind of dizzy.

The back door leads into a warm, spacious kitchen, with cupboards to the left and a sink and stove to my right. I do a double take at the stove. It’s bright blue and antique. So is the long black dress of the plump, white-haired woman who turns from the stove to greet me. Mrs. Hawkins sees my head and says I should sit down. She fills a bowl with water from the sink and I sit in a wooden chair and glance at the newspaper resting on the table beside me. It’s talking about the World’s Fair in St. Louis. And the date of the top of the paper says June 1st, 1904.

There’s a rushing sound in my ears. 1904? I press my fingertips against my forehead. Did I fall out of bed and fall backward in time? That would explain the old-fashioned stove and the clothes that everyone is wearing. Mrs. Hawkins examines my head. Samantha says that I fell off my bicycle. Mrs. Hawkins tsks. She says she needs to clean me up. She asks me where I live. Samantha answers that I’m from the city. She asks if I took the train to Mount Bedford. Surely I didn’t ride my bicycle the whole way.

I stare at my feet, wondering how to answer. I tell her that I’m not exactly sure how I got here. Everything is a blur. There’s silence in the room, and when I glance up, Samantha looks worried. Mrs. Hawkins places her hand against my forehead to check my temperature. She asks Samantha to go find Mr. Hawkins. Samantha jumps up from her chair obediently and darts down the hall.

Mrs. Hawkins pats my leg and tells me she’ll make an ice pack for my head. She opens a wooden cabinet where I see food and bottles of milk inside. On the top is an enormous block of ice. She chips away at the ice with a sharp pick and puts the pieces in a linen towel. Then, a balding man in a black suit appears with Samantha. He asks if he should call the doctor. I start to say I’m okay but Mrs. Hawkins interrupts me and says that it doesn’t hurt to have a doctor take a look. We must let Mrs. Edwards know of our young guest as well.

The man leaves the kitchen and Mrs. Hawkins gives me the ice. Samantha pulls her chair closer to mine and sits down. She says Mr. Hawkins is the butler. He’s married to Mrs. Hawkins. They live in the room above the carriage house. They have a butler and a cook here? Wow. Samantha’s grandmother must have a lot of money. I’ve always wondered what that would be like.

Suddenly, Samantha jumps back up from her chair and an elegant, silver-haired woman walks into the kitchen in a long blue skirt and jacket. The woman greets Samantha and Samantha calls the woman Grandmary, with a curtsy. Samantha glances nervously at me and bobs her head upward, as if reminding me to mind my manners, too. I stand up and try to imitate Samantha’s curtsy.

Grandmary introduces herself to me as Mrs. Edwards. She eyes me up and down, as if she disapproves of my outfit. I flush with embarrassment, but there is kindness in Grandmary’s blue-gray eyes, with a hint of curiosity.

Hawkins returns to the kitchen and tells Grandmary he’ll phone the doctor. He goes to a large wooden box on the wall beside the sink and lifts something like a small trumpet to his ear. He cranks the handle on the side and in a moment, he’s speaking into another trumpet shaped piece on the front of the box. When I hear him asking for the doctor, I feel a swell of anxiety. I rub the heart-shaped pendant in my pocket, reminding myself I can go home anytime I want.

Hawkins looks up and tells Mrs. Edwards that the doctor is busy with other patients this afternoon. He has invited us to come to his office and wait, or he can attempt to make a house call later this evening. Grandmary studies me, as if wondering how critical my condition is. I’m not sick, am I? Maybe I bumped my head too hard? That would explain a lot.