Chapter 3

Abby realized she was awake. For no apparent reason. She started to turn over and then remembered Kate was sleeping next to her. She managed to complete the maneuver without flailing about as much she usually did and then concentrated on getting back to sleep.

The house was completely silent. Except for the rumbling in her stomach. If only she hadn’t eaten that last piece of pizza. And that pile of cookies. And the Rice Krispy Treats. The three cans of soda weren’t helping either. Her head was hurting, too, and she vowed she would never eat junk food again. Ever. Then she was relieved to find that the headache was only from the braids grinding into her scalp. She slipped off the elastic bands, unbraided her hair, and massaged the sore spots on her head.

Counting sheep never helped anyone fall asleep. The secret was to concentrate on sleepy thoughts. Take deep breaths. After a moment, she recognized with relief that she was drifting back to sleep. But as soon as that thought registered, it made her wake up all over again. Then John sneaked into her head and wouldn’t leave. Finally Abby opened her eyes.

A blue light was streaming under the door into the dark room. Her eyes opened even wider.

She slipped out from under the sheet that covered her, and, remembering at the last second not to step on Merri who slept on a twin mattress beside the bed, she put her feet carefully on the floor and stood. Even knowing it was there, she managed to trip over the mattress. Merri mumbled incoherently.

Abby knelt beside her. “Merri,” she whispered, shaking her shoulder. “Wake up.”

“Whaa?”

“It’s the blue light again. Come on. Let’s go see.”

Merri, instantly awake, scrambled awkwardly to her feet and followed Abby. The door creaked a little when she cracked it, and Abby looked back at the dim lump on the bed that was Kate. She didn’t stir, and so Abby opened the door and they went out into the hall. She shut the door carefully. Even so, the click sounded loud in the quiet house.

The blue light came, as she knew it would, from Merri’s computer in the room across the hall. And it meant, she hoped, that Beautiful Houses had decided to work again.

Merri rushed eagerly ahead of her and sat down at the computer. As soon as she put her hand on the mouse, the glowing blue screen morphed to a familiar scene.

It was the kitchen downstairs, only without electric appliances and running water. And the young woman wearing a calico dress who came into view was definitely not Merri’s mom.

“It’s Charlotte!” Merri said. “Oh, Abby, she’s back.”

Abby sat down next to Merri and squeezed her arm. “I have to admit, I thought we’d never see her again.”

Colonel Miles’ daughter, Charlotte, bustled about the kitchen, her calico skirts swishing as she hurried back and forth between the chopping block work table in the center of the room and the cast iron cookstove where steam rose from a pot bubbling there.

“She looks stressed out,” Merri said.

“Look at the clock on the shelf. It’s almost six o’clock. About time for the train to come into the station. I wonder how many people she’ll serve today. Well, not today. That day.”

Abby checked the date on the menu bar at the top of the computer screen. It told her they were visiting September 23, 1861.

“Let’s go virtual,” Merri said. “I want to find out what’s happening.”

“Wait here. I’m going to go get John.”

“In that?” Merri said dubiously.

Abby looked down at the skimpy knit shorts and T-shirt she wore. “Right. First, I’m going to have to sneak back into the room for some clothes. Without waking Kate.”

“Hurry.”

“I’ll try.”

 

 

 

They had left the kitchen light on in case John or Ryan needed anything in the night, and that helped as Abby padded barefoot downstairs. However, when she got to the living room she realized that it was a long way from the kitchen, and there was not enough light for her to distinguish the furniture from the room’s occupants.

Ryan, she knew, had claimed the couch. It was light-colored and she saw it and the blurred shape on it easily enough in the gloom. The tricky part would be finding John. Pat had brought a sleeping bag from the hall closet for him, but Abby had no idea where he had put it. Other than the soft snores coming from the vicinity of the couch, the room was completely quiet.

She discovered the answer to her question when a hand came out of the darkness and grabbed her ankle. She stumbled and landed on a warm chest. A bare warm chest, from which came a soft whoosh of air. Right after the whoosh, a large hand covered her mouth. The precaution was unnecessary. She had recognized John’s cologne and knew in an instant that it was no nightmare monster attacking her.

He put his mouth to her ear and whispered, “What are you doing here? I thought Turner was the one planning on nighttime shenanigans.”

Abby pulled his hand away from her mouth and tried for indignant, which was difficult when whispering. “Don’t be ridiculous, Mr. Roberts. If I was inclined to get into your bed, and I’m not, it wouldn’t be with Ryan in the room.”

“Well, you are in fact in my bed, and you’d better get out of it quick. I know the Bible says God will never give us any temptation stronger than what we can handle, but…”

“Just to be clear, you are the one who dragged me into your bed, and—”

“Abby. Please. Have pity. What is it you want?”

If felt wonderful being in John’s arms, but she had promised him and God that she wouldn’t intentionally tempt him to break his commitment—their commitment—to abstinence.

“Come up to the computer room,” she whispered. “There’s something you have to see.” And then she rose less than gracefully and stood looking down at him. “And don’t wake Ryan.”

“Trust me. I have no intention of doing that.”

 

 

 

“So I finally get to meet the elusive Charlotte Miles,” John said a few minutes later.

Abby was relieved to see he was wearing a shirt. She tried not to think about what was beneath it. “Yes, although I have no idea why Beautiful Houses would suddenly start working again after all this time.”

Merri’s eyes were glued to the screen where Charlotte was stirring the steaming pot on her cookstove, and her cousin Joshua was bolting down a bowl of stew.

“This is the part where we found out about the gourd on the front door,” Merri said.

“What do you mean?” John asked.

“This house was a stop on the Underground Railroad,” Abby said. “The gourd indicated that to runaway slaves. Watch for how cool and collected Charlotte is when she’s serving the train passengers—the whole time she’s sheltering slaves in her attic.”

Beautiful Houses must want us to see something,” Merri said. “That’s why it started working again.”

“I know your theory, kiddo,” Abby said, “but I’m having a hard time believing a computer program has an opinion one way or the other.”

“Who knows,” John said. “We’ve come to believe other strange things about it. Why not artificial intelligence?”

“I don’t mean that—what you said, John,” Merri said impatiently. “I think it’s like God wants us to know certain things. Important things that could help people. You know. Like with the Old Dears and Reuben.”

“Well, anyway,” Abby said, “pull up a chair, John, and let’s go virtual