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I OPENED my eyes to a sky of pale pink, beige and buttery yellow. Grassy fields extended out to hillsides dotted with windmills. The pickup truck, now a horse and buggy, lumbered forward. Edgar slowed the horse to a halt and parked near an unpainted barn.
“How very interesting,” he said as he dismounted the forest green buggy. The dark black horse in front of it whinnied.
Edgar patted its mane and looked around. “This is unexpected.”
I agreed. Based on his description of Enta, I’d expected the truck to turn into a spaceship. But instead of stars and planets, earthy smells of straw, grass and livestock hung in the air. Everything about this place made it feel like we’d traveled back in time.
“Didn’t you say Enta worked on the travel glasses after you did?” I asked.
“That is true,” rang out a female voice. “That was long ago. I decided to spend retirement in an earlier past with a simpler lifestyle.”
A tall, fair woman emerged from the barn and smiled. Her gentle face appeared younger than Edgar’s, but soft lines creased the corners of her lips and eyes. She wore a blue muslin dress and black buckled shoes. The strings to her matching bonnet were drawn into a bow under her chin. I wasn’t sure whether I should bow, curtsy or shake her hand.
Edgar offered his hand. “It is a pleasure to see you again, Enta.”
“Welcome, friend,” Enta said as she hugged Edgar, ignoring his outstretched hand. “It’s been too long.”
Then she smiled at me. “You must be Calla.”
I smiled back. “Thank you so much for offering to help me.”
“Let’s get you two inside where I have dinner ready. I hope you like bread pudding and fresh milk.”
Edgar’s droopy eyes brightened as he smacked his lips. I was pretty sure that he hadn’t had much to eat or drink other than hard biscuits, vegetable soup and tea for a very long time.
As Enta led us to her home, she chattered about how much she enjoyed her life at the homestead.
“The longer I stay here, the more I feel the stresses of my past melt away,” she said.
I remembered her daughters’ accident and silently wondered what else could have happened to Enta to make her choose this of all places.
We approached a two-story house made of wood and stone. The planked front porch creaked as we walked across it.
“Welcome,” Enta said, opening the front door.
I followed Enta and Edgar into a candlelit kitchen, completely devoid of any modern appliances. Edgar and I sat down at a simple wooden dining table. Still chattering, Enta brought over plates of roast beef and potatoes, followed by a fluffy bread pudding and mugs of warm milk.
“I keep my dairy cow and pig in the barn next to where you arrived,” she said. “I’ve never been able to bring myself to slaughter that poor old pig. Seeing as the mercantile is only a three-mile walk away, I feel no need to assume the duties of a butcher.”
I took a bite of roast beef and sighed. Her cooking was so much better than Edgar’s.
“So, are you and Edgar going to fix whatever’s wrong with the travel glasses after dinner?” I asked in between mouthfuls.
Enta smiled. “I see no reason to rush. Today is Sunday, a day for visiting. We will experiment with the travel glasses tomorrow.”
Edgar, sated and relaxed, appeared to be in agreement. I tensed. Valcas’ metal shackles looked solid and strong, but I was sure that he’d figure out how to escape them. Then he’d be after me—he’d made that pretty clear during his warning. We needed to fix the glasses now. But instead, Enta told us about the joys of using oil lamps and manual hand tools. I hoped that her workshop had more modern resources.
It soon grew dark outside. Before showing us to our rooms, Enta whipped up a simple green nightdress for me on her treadle sewing machine. She insisted that I not sleep in my daytime clothes. That night I even slept in a proper guest room curled up under a handmade quilt.
***
A KNOCK AT THE BEDROOM door woke me up the next morning. Smells of coffee and pancakes infused the air. For a moment I thought I was still dreaming.
“Good morning, Calla,” Enta called out. “Breakfast is ready.”
I peeled myself out of bed and followed her to a washroom where she’d set out additional homespun clothes that fit me surprisingly well. I felt uncomfortable wearing them, though, so I changed into a clean pair of jeans and the sweatshirt I’d brought with me.
As I approached the breakfast table, I choked back a chuckle. Edgar sat there in a new outfit complete with suspenders and a straw hat. We ate while watching Enta bustle around the kitchen. She never stopped moving...or talking.
“What was she like before coming here to de-stress?” I asked Edgar under my breath.
“Happy,” he said.