Take Me Home, Country Roads

I don’t know how long I was knocked out. But I was pretty certain that Flo wasn’t crazy enough to forget about me and probably should have called for help. Concussions can be serious, you know? As it was, when I woke up I was lying on the ground, my head still resting against that log and my back aching.

“What the fuck?” I groaned, sitting up and taking in my surroundings. The sun was low in the sky, still early morning, but it was a bright and cloudless day, leaving no indication of the storm of the night before. I could see the river glistening through the trees just further down the hill, beyond a dirt road which ran along it, about 100 yards away. My head throbbed and I was certain I looked like a complete mess.

I seriously could not believe that Flo had left me out in the woods overnight. I wondered how appropriate it was to yell at an old lady.

I shoved myself to my feet, hoping Crazy Aunt Flo had a good stock of Tylenol in her house, and stumbled back up the hill. Only, when I got to the clearing…there was no house. I blinked, wondering just how hard I had hit my head. Had I rolled down so far that I was near someone else’s property? Had I concussion-walked down river somehow?

Whatever had happened, I wasn’t at Crazy Aunt Flo’s farm. There was no flowery garden, long drive or garage. There was no tall oak tree providing shade over a wrap-around porch where I had attempted to knit a scarf the day before. All that was there, on the far side of the field, was a small wooden shack, a little garden with some vegetables, and a few chickens clucking about. Talk about back-woods.

Panicking wasn’t going to help, and definitely wasn’t in my nature. I had always been a roll with the punches kind of girl, but, I'll admit, I was a bit concerned about my situation. There wasn’t much to do about it, though, other than figure out just where the hell I was and how to get back. Stretching my sore limbs, I stomped across the field towards the cabin, hoping to use whoever lived there’s phone to call Flo to come pick me up. As I approached the building, however, and noticed the lanterns hanging in front of the door and the old wagon near the side, I started to worry that they might not even have a phone. Were there Amish in West Virginia? That would be just my luck.

Feeling completely embarrassed and stupid, I stepped up the two creaking stairs to the front porch, looking quizzically at the black cat lying lazily in the morning sun, before knocking. I stared at the cat…it couldn’t be…

The door creaked open and I was certain I’d gone crazy.

“Aunt Flo?” I asked, completely floored to see my aunt on the other side of the door. She looked at me in confusion for a moment, before recognition lit up on her wrinkled old features.

“Emma? Emma Anderson? Good lord, child, where have you been?” She motioned for me to come in and I stepped over the threshold, only this time, I wasn’t met by classic southern charm and antiquity. I was met by the smell of farm and animals and smoked meat, of cats and straw and pipe smoke.

What the hell?

It was one large room, with a door leading to a smaller room in the back. There was a wood-burning fireplace near the one wall, with a simple table and chairs and a rocker near by. There were old pictures on the wall, like the ones I had seen in the album the night before, a rifle leaning near the door, a basket of yarn and flowers drying near the one window.

“I was in the woods all night, apparently,” I replied, suddenly feeling very angry and confused. “What’s going on? Why didn’t you look for me? And where are we?”

But Aunt Flo ignored me, moving slowly over to the stove where an old teakettle had started to whistle. “Tea, dear?”

“Um, no thanks.” Tea was not going to fix things. Flo looked the same, despite her surroundings. Same hunched walk, same cane, same half moon glasses. Same craziness. She ignored me completely and set a cup of tea on the table and motioned for me to sit down. In frustration, I did as she asked, but didn’t touch the drink.

“Looks like you took a mighty great knock to the head, dear,” she said, sitting down across from me and giving me a smile, the same one I had seen the other night – as if she knew something that I didn’t.

“Yeah, I hit it on a log or something. When I went to catch your cat last night, remember? In that massive storm?”

“Let me get you a cool cloth to press on it,” she said, completely ignoring my questions again. I sighed in annoyance, but felt myself relax a little bit. At least I was back and could get a hot shower soon, whenever we got back to the house.

I let Flo clean up my head and run a brush through my hair, before I questioned her again. “Aunt Flo…what is this place?” I asked, glancing around and finding myself missing the Internet-less house from before.

She chuckled. “Emma dear, I think you mean to ask when.”

I blinked. “Sorry, Aunt Flo, I’m not quite following. Are we at some fishing cottage or something?”

“No, dear, this is my home.”

Okay, she was officially crazy. “Aunt Flo,” I started delicately, not wanting to shock her system. Alzheimer’s, maybe? “I was just at your house. Yesterday, remember? This would be just one room in the place. Is it just up the road? Maybe you wandered down here…?”

But Aunt Flo just chuckled to herself. “You think I’m crazy, don’t you child?” She smiled at me with clear eyes. “Well, I’m not, though you’re about to think you are in a moment.”

I had no idea what to say. All I knew was that I wanted a shower and a nap. And maybe waffles for breakfast. I looked at Flo, starting to get impatient.

“What are you talking about?”

“Emma, child, I’ve been waiting for you for a while. Getting a bit worried you weren’t going to show up. You’ve missed quite a bit.”

She’d officially lost it. My anger left me as I felt sympathy for the poor woman. “Aunt Flo, I really think we should get you home. Maybe you should see a doctor or something and - ”

“Dearie, I am home. I’m sure it doesn’t look the same as when you left it, but this is the same place. It’s you who are mistaken.”

She seemed so confident, so sure of herself, that I found myself feeling a bit sick to my stomach. Maybe I was still knocked out and this was some weird dream?

“Emma, what year do you think it is?”

“It’s 2014,” I replied, already trying to plan in my head who I was going to call to come look after her. I certainly wasn’t going to do it.

Her thin gray eyebrows went up slightly. “Well, that is a long way to come. I wasn’t sure just from when you’d be coming. I’m sure there will be a lot to adjust to.”

What?

Flo registered the confusion on my face. “Child, this here is 1882. You’ve come back quite a ways.”

I let out a laugh, and then immediately felt guilty. I shouldn’t laugh at a crazy old woman. “Right, Aunt Flo, I really need to take you home.”

“Now you listen to me,” she shot back sternly, so much so that I was slightly caught off guard and took a step back. Flo stood and hobbled over to me, staring me straight in the eye. “You’re back here for a reason, Emma Grace Anderson. And you’re going to let me help you and I don’t want to hear no sass about it.”

“Oh – okay, Aunt Flo,” I replied, wondering if you were supposed to just go along with it when people went off the deep end like this. I suddenly found myself wishing I had paid attention to Lindy and her psychology nonsense. “What…what is that you want me to do?”

Flo relaxed a little bit and smiled. “Come with me,” she said, turning toward the back room. “We need to get you out of those ridiculous clothes.”

An hour later, I found myself looking like I was straight out of a Civil War reenactment – long, gray cotton skirt, white blouse and some ridiculous undergarments that really didn’t give any support, only thing missing was the hoop skirt, but Flo informed me that those weren't practical out here in the mountains. Okay, then. Flo had braided my hair into a long side-braid, and given me a pair of plain brown leather shoes that were horribly out of fashion.

“I think you forgot the corset,” I remarked sarcastically, and she flicked the back of my ear sharply. “Ouch.”

“I said no sass, now.”

“Really, Flo, I don’t understand what’s going on.” I had let her play around with me, but I was hungry and tired and just wanted to go home. “What’s the point of all this? Is this some weird West Virginia tradition? Some hazing ritual, maybe?” I could just imagine that she was preparing to launch me into the West Virginia society at some weird debutante ball. At 20, I was a bit old for all that, but it didn’t mean she wouldn’t try.

“You can’t show up as you were, people would think you a devil. And we can’t have that, now, can we?”

“I mean, I guess not.”

“Well, you’re about as presentable as you’re gonna get. I’ll give you some money to buy new clothes for when you get to town. Luckily these old things fit you.”

“Town?”

Flo sighed and looked at me with sympathy. I appreciated it, but maybe she shouldn’t be putting me through all this. “Emma, dear, sit down.”

I did as she asked, seriously beginning to wonder when I was going to wake up.

“Emma, I told you about the Hatfields and the McCoys, didn’t I?”

Jesus help me. “Yes, Aunt Flo. Last night. Remember?”

“Darlin’ you need to understand you aren’t where you think you are.”

“I’m not sure where I am,” I admitted angrily. “This is getting ridiculous, Flo.”

“Emma, you’ve been sent back to 1882. Don’t ask me how, but you have. You’re in Mate Creek, West Virginia, just across the border from Kentucky and you’re going to make a big difference here.”

She sounded so sure of herself, so convinced of what she was saying, that I couldn’t respond right away. I knew that time travel was impossible. But was Flo really so convinced that she had kept this weird shack and Victorian clothing on hand just to convince me that I had time traveled with her? Had she been planning this whole charade since I was little? That seemed just as impossible as the idea of me actually being in 1882.

“Flo,” I said, rubbing my face in exhaustion. “I don’t understand what’s happening."

“Nor do I, child. Not really,” she smiled wider. “All I know that you have been sent here to save that family. God works in mysterious ways.”

“Save what family?”

“The Hatfields, child. Now, I’m going to give you a basket with some bread, and a note for Lavicy. Do not give it to anyone but her, you hear me? It will take you the better part of the day to get town, so you best be on your way soon if you want to get there by dark. Use the money to rent a room for the night at the saloon and in the morning, ask how to get to the Hatfield homestead. Anyone should be able to give you directions. Remember, go straight to Lavicy. If anyone asks, you’re my ward and I’ve sent you to live with them. You got that, Emma?”

I blinked at her. “Uh..yes?”

“Child, you need to learn to listen, better.”

Before I realized what was happening, she was shooing me out the floor with her cane, but not before handing me a basket of food, and a small leather purse.

“Best keep that money out of sight, and find a good keeping place for it at the Hatfields. Have a good trip dear.”

“Wait, wait!” I finally said sternly. “You’re sending me to town?”

“Mate Creek, dear. Head down towards the river and follow the road for about ten miles.”

“Ten miles?”

“That’s right, so you best get a move on!”

And with that she shut the door. I was gobsmacked, and stood there for a moment completely unsure of what to do. 1882? Hatfields? What the hell was she on about? But, I was clearly getting no where with Aunt Flo, and the road was the best chance I had of finding someone with a cell phone in order to call for help. And if I didn’t see a car, well then someone in town would have to know about Flo and her antics. I was over the embarrassment of how I was dressed now, and with a frustrated huff, set off back down the hill.

The road was a dirt one and looked like it had never seen a car. But, this was rural West Virginia...time travel was impossible and Aunt Flo was crazy, just like I’d been hearing my entire life. Worst case scenario, I was hallucinating or having some weird reaction to medication given to me for the concussion I received last night. I’d wake up in a nice, comfy hospital bed in no time. So, for the time being, I decided to just enjoy myself. Look at it like an adventure…with a crazy aunt pulling the strings.

I took off, wishing I had my iPod and sunglasses, eating some of the bread that Flo had left in the basket for me. This whole thing was ridiculous, I kept telling myself. Somewhere along this road would be a house or a service station or something where I could get help. And a Diet Coke. But the longer I walked, the more desperate I became, and as the sun hit the middle of the sky, I felt the tears well up in my eyes. I just wanted this to be over.

With a frustrated sigh, I sat down in the tall grass in the shade of a tree – exhausted, sore, and desperately wishing I knew what was going on. I sat there for a while, trying to cool off, before I stood back up, determined to find someone. I set off again.

Within ten minutes, my prayers seemed to be answered, as up ahead in the distance I saw two figures on horseback coming towards me. I wasn’t big on talking to random people on the side of the road (stranger-danger and all), but this was an extreme circumstance.

“Excuse me!” I called out, waving my arm at them as they approached. The horses slowed to a walk and the two young men sat stride them looked at me with interest. “Excuse me, hi, um, I was hoping you might be able to help me…” I said quickly, noticing their attire – which looked like the male version of what I had on. This could not be happening.

“Hello, Ma’am,” the closer of the two said, tipping his wide brimmed hat at me. “Are you alright?” He looked oddly familiar (and frustratingly attractive), with his sandy blonde hair, stubble and strong jaw line. His smile was wide and toothy, full of charm. His white shirt was unbuttoned halfway down his chest exposing a tanned and toned chest – blonde chest hair glistening with sweat. I swallowed hard, his looks momentarily distracting me from my woes. Cowboy Bill here was quite a stud.

“Um, I’m a bit lost, to be honest,” I admitted with embarrassment. Why couldn’t it have been some family of four in a mini van on a road trip? It had to be a hot, horse-riding piece of man.

“Where you headin’?”

“Um, Mate Creek?”

“Well,” he said with a wider smile. “You’re headin’ the wrong way for a start. Mate Creek’s thatta way, about twelve miles or so.” He pointed back to the direction I had come and I felt my head swim in the heat.

“Of course it is,” I muttered, beginning to feel like I should sit down again.

“You ain’t from around here, are ya?” He said, still smiling.

“New York City,” I replied trying to focus on him and not how fuzzy my head was feeling.

“A Yank?” He let out a whoop of laughter. “And a city girl at that! You sure out of your e-lee-ment.”

“A Yank?” If Flo was playing some sort of joke on me, she had really done an amazing job…like, I was impressed. Getting the townsfolk in on it? That took commitment. “Listen, if I could just - ” I was going to ask to borrow a cell phone or something, but then I caught sight of the dead deer hanging from the back of Cowboy’s horse, blood dripping from it’s mouth. That, plus the heat and my dehydration, was enough to make me feel faint.

“Woah there,” Cowboy said, as I sank to the ground and my eyes fogged over. He and his companion swung down from their horses and rushed over to me. “Fetch her some water, Cap,” the cute one said, as he held me upright. His friend messed around at his horse, while I tried to regain my focus.

“I’m sorry,” I mumbled, trying to ignore the fact that, no matter how good he looked, he smelled like he had been sleeping in a barn. “I’m just a bit hot…”

“And it looks like you got a goose egg on your head,” he replied, brushing my hair aside, lightly. The fellow called Cap returned and held out a skin of water.

“Here,” he said softly, his voice deeper and more gravelly than his friend’s, and he held up the bottle for me to drink. I took a sip, already feeling a bit better – that was until I looked at him more closely.

I choked on my water and Cap sat back, looking annoyed. It was him, the one from the picture Flo had shown me, the one with the cloudy eye. He was real, alive, right in front of me…but he had been alive over a hundred and thirty years ago. Well, I now knew I must have been delirious. But there he was, stark white eye and all. The black and white picture really didn’t do him justice – it was hard to make out his other features before, but now I could see that his good eye was blue, his hair was pale blonde, and his face, though still stern, was young and handsome. Even with the eye.

The cute one laughed. “Yeah, Cap has that reaction with girls. Don’t worry, Miss, he won’t bite.”

Cap looked less amused and I immediately felt guilty. It wasn’t because of his eye that I was surprised…it was because of him in general. And that I was beginning to believe what Flo had been telling me. But…it wasn’t possible.

I cleared my throat, my head now focused more since that shot of adrenaline. “Thank you, really, I’m fine. So, um, that way, you said?” I looked back down the dusty dirt road, where waves of heat radiated as far as the eye could see. It was hot for April.

“Well now,” Cowboy replied, “seeing as you can barely stand on your own, it wouldn’t be proper of us to let you just wander on by yourself. We’re heading to Mate Creek too, ain’t we Cap? We’ll take you.”

The idea of spending more time than necessary with these two boys straight out of the history books wasn’t really what I had in mind. But the idea of walking that far was even less appealing. I was too tired to argue. Just go with it, I told myself. You’ll figure it out eventually.

“Um, okay.”

“Well, alrighty then,” he grinned, before scooping me up bridal style with a swift movement.

“Woah,” I said, grabbing his shoulder.

“Looks like I’ve swept you off your feet, haven’t I?” he grinned again, carrying me over to Cap’s horse, where the one-eyed boy was already perched. “I’m Johnse Hatfield, by the way. And this here’s my brother, Cap.”

Johnse and Cap Hatfield. My head hurt.

“Um, it’s nice to meet you,” I said, squealing a bit as Johnse pushed me up on to the horse behind his brother. I gave the back of Cap’s head an apologetic grimace, since I was so unceremoniously plopped down behind him. “I’m Emma. Emma Anderson.”

“Well Miss Emma Anderson,” Johnse said, handing my basket and purse. “It’s a pleasure.” He tipped his hat again and gave me a grin.

A moment later he was back on his own horse and kicked off. Cap did the same, and the sudden lurch had me grab onto his waist to stabilize myself. He looked over his right shoulder so he could use his good eye to look at me.

“You alright?”

“Yeah,” I said back, trying to figure out the bumping and lurching movement of the horse and trying to best situate myself. “Just never ridden before.”

“Ha!” Johnse let out another whoop of laughter next to us. “Never ridden?” he called out in disbelief. “What do you Yankee girls do then?”

I wanted to reply that we go to the mall and the movies and get coffee, usually in our cars or on the busy or subway, but I held my tongue. If for some impossible reason I was in the 1880’s, talking about things that weren’t invented yet probably wasn’t the best idea. Though I still wasn’t sure if I wasn’t believing what my head was telling me – that this was all real.

“Hatfield, you said?” I asked Cap, trying to lighten the odd tension between us. “Do you know a Lavicy Hatfield?”

“That’s our Mama,” Johnse replied, even though I hadn’t really been directing it at him. He smiled. “You know our Mama?”

How do I explain this? “Um, I’m the ward of Florence Anderson – she sent me to meet her. Give her a letter.” Ward…what a weird word. Made me sound like I was some sort of orphan…which, I thought with a gulp, I sort of was now. I had started out as one and was one again. I tried to ignore the shot of pain that burst through my heart.

“Well ain’t that perfect,” Johnse replied. “Means we don’t need to stop at Mate Creek no more, we’ll just head home.”

That did sound perfect. Maybe the faster I got to this Lavicy, the faster I could be out of this nightmare.

The rest of the ride was quiet, aside from the ‘oofs’ I uttered whenever my chin slammed into Cap’s back. Horse riding was not as elegant as it looked.

Eventually, having apparently bypassed Mate Creek - I saw nothing that resembled a town of any sort – we arrived at another wooden cabin, resting at the top of a hill. It had been hours and I was exhausted and sore, so it was a welcome relief to see some place to rest, no matter how rustic it was. There were a few other buildings around of similar make – a barn, a chicken coop, a woodshed, and numerous children running around the property, hooting and hollering as we rode up.

Johnse and Cap pulled the horses to a stop just at the front of the house, dismounted and tied the horses to a post. I tried to follow their example, throwing my leg over the side and trying to slide off on my stomach. The ground was further away than expected, though, and I fell back – right into the sturdy chest of Cap. He held my arms to keep me upright, and when I looked back at him, his face was still as stern as ever.

“Thanks,” I said quietly, wondering if he hated me for how I reacted earlier. It was completely inappropriate and his eye really wasn’t that bad at all. In hopes of showing him it didn’t bother me, I caught his gaze and held it. We looked at each other for a long moment, to the point where I thought it was a bit awkward, until he let go and moved to the porch.

“Come on in and our Mama will make you up a nice supper,” Johnse said, taking the steps two at a time and striding through the open door with unbridled confidence. “Best cook this side of the Tug, I swear it!” Cap was more reserved, following his brother quietly.

Swallowing hard, I followed the two blonde men, wondering just what was in store for me. Any signs of the 21st Century were unnervingly absent, and the knot in my stomach was tightening each minute this thing went on. Hoping I would walk in on some TV cameras and some weird West Virginia version of ‘Punk’d’, I walked up the front steps and over the threshold, immediately overtaken by the smell of freshly baked bread and a variety of spices. Nope, still pre-industrial revolution, apparently. The house was very open, though dark due to the lack of windows, and boy and girl were sitting at the large wooden table in the middle of what I assumed was the kitchen. The boy looked to be about fifteen, the girl a bit younger. They looked up from their reading when we entered, their eyes falling on me. A tall women was working at the wood fire stove, her back to us and dark brown hair pulled up into a loose bun.

“Hey there, Mama,” Johnse greeted, going up and kissing her on the cheek.

“Back already, boys?” she asked, without turning around. “Get anything good out hunting?”

“Yeah, we got a buck, actually. I’ll head out to skin it after we eat. And we found us something else, actually,” Johnse replied, a sneaky grin on his face. I stood awkwardly in the middle of the room, unsure of what to do. Cap had taken of his hat and sat down, though his eyes were on me. When their mother didn’t turn around right away, Johnse shifted impatiently and nudged her slightly. “Mama, let me introduce to you Miss Emma Anderson.” Mrs. Hatfield turned around as Johnse bubbled on. “We found her out near Tug Fork, just wanderin’. She’s a Yankee. We don’t get many of them, now do we?“

Lavicy Hatfield turned around and looked at me, her eyebrows furrowed in confusion. I gave a small, awkward wave, my stomach sinking as I recognized her from the photograph. She was older than when it was taken, but still beautiful. This wasn’t ending.

“Um, hello.”

“Hello,” she replied, her gaze still focused on me as if she was trying to remember something. “Emma Anderson, you said?”

“Uh, just Emma is fine.”

“She’s from New York,” Johnse added, smiling at me proudly like I was some prized collection item. I had a feeling I was going to need to get used to feeling like some sort of exotic bird.

Lavicy paled a bit as she took me in. “Boys, why don’t you go skin that deer now – supper won’t be ready for a while.”

“But Ma, we just got back,” Johnse whined, his mouth stuffed with a piece of bread.

“Now, Johnse,” she said, smacking the back of his head. “Don’t sass me none. You too, Cap. Get your brother and sister to help.”

I took a deep breath and looked back at Mrs. Hatfield after the others left the room. She had now taken a seat at the table, looking as though she couldn’t stand much longer. She ran a hand over her face – a face that was worn and sunned, but still beautiful. “My Lord, I never would have believed it.”

I stood there, awkwardly, unsure of what to do. Then, I remembered the note from Flo, and took it out of my dress pocket. “Um, Mrs. Hatfield, my aunt, Florence Anderson, asked me to deliver this to you.”

At the mention of the name, Lavicy looked up at me briefly before taking the letter. Opening it and reading it, she stood and paced back and forth across the room. She must have read it three or four times before she finally sighed and looked at me.

“The Lord works in mysterious ways,” she said, looking at me, her eyes wide amazement.

She went over to a chest on the far side of the room. Rummaging through, she withdrew an old silver picture frame and brought it over to me. I took it from her, hesitantly, and had to check myself from dropping it when I saw the photograph inside.

“My great-aunt Florence told me when I was a girl that one day a young woman from a different time would come into my life. I believed it then and waited…waiting every day hoping you’d show up on the edge of the woods. As the years went by and I grew older and new better, I obviously thought they were just foolish tales that Florence told.”

I stared at the picture of Crazy Aunt Flo – or Mrs. Hatfield’s Great Aunt Florence – looking exactly the same as she had just last night in her living room and how she had this morning when I saw her. Only she was sitting with a younger version of Lavicy and Devil Anse Hatfield.

“This is fucking insane,” I muttered, trying to work it all out in my head, trying to convince myself it was still all a dream. But it wasn’t…it couldn’t be.

Mrs. Hatfield let out a quick breathe in surprise. “She said you’d have a mouth on you.”

“This can’t be happening.” I sat down heavily, my head dropping into my hands. “This can’t be real. This morning when I saw her I thought it was some sick joke she was playing.”

“This morning?” Lavicy asked. “Miss Anderson, Florence has been dead for over two months now.”

I blinked. “Dead? No, I just saw her at her place…or some place…this morning. And I was with her last night. She’s more alive than I expected her to be, to be honest.”

Mrs. Hatfield sat down next to me, looking just as amazed as I felt. “Miss Emma Anderson from New York,” she said, “I have no idea what on earth is happening, whether it’s witchcraft or I’m just going plum crazy. But you’re here now, clearly for a reason. Florence entrusted you to me and my family and we’ll keep you, just like she asks.” Lavicy fingered the letter in her hand. “I remember the story. She described you when I was little, I’d know you anywhere. Chestnut hair, blue eyes…she even said you’d have music written on your skin, though I don’t know what that could mean.”

My breath hitched. Slowly, I pulled my skirt up, revealing the music notes tattooed on my ankle that there was no way Aunt Flo could know about it. I felt sick to my stomach. Lavicy looked like she might cry.

“What else did she say?” I asked, my voice tight.

Lavicy looked at me, her eyes glossy, her face pale. “She said that you’d save the life of my son.”

I blanched. “I…what?”

“She’s not been wrong, yet, Miss Emma.” Lavicy said, suddenly looking like she believed everything without question. I wasn’t quite there yet. “You’re here, aren’t you?”

I must have looked like a fish out of water, my mouth opened and closed so many times without any noise coming out.

“Mama!” The girl from earlier came running into the room. “Pa’s home and he’s brought Uncle Ellison and Cotton Top!”

Lavicy finally tore her eyes away from me. “Help me get more chairs, then, Nancy. Supper will be ready soon.” Nancy looked over at me with curiosity.

“This is Emma,” Lavicy said. “She’ll be staying with us for a while.”

“Hello, I’m Nancy.” She must have been about fourteen, but held herself like she was a full grown adult. “It will be nice to have another older girl around.” How quickly she accepted me was a bit surprising, but I didn’t think I could be surprised by anything anymore. I sat there for a moment, watching as Nancy and Lavicy bustled around the kitchen, when a new voice interrupted my thoughts.

“Can I help at all, Mrs. Hatfield?”

I looked to the stairs and saw a tall girl, about my age, with flowing blonde hair and a pale, thin frame. She was beautiful, there was no doubt, but a little wispy as well. She also didn’t have the dusky Hatfield coloring like the rest of them.

“Roseanna, this is Emma Anderson,” Lavicy said, with none of the warmth she showed to her other children. “Emma, this is Roseanna McCoy. She’s been staying with us.”

“Hello,” Roseanna greeted sweetly and meek as a mouse. I was confused – she was a McCoy and from what I knew the Hatfields hated the McCoys, but I wasn’t going to question it. No point in sticking my nose where it doesn’t belong.

Roseanna McCoy was holding a baby in her arms, and for a moment I wondered if it was hers, but then four more children came tumbling down the stairs behind her. Roseanna was much too young to be mother to them all and she must have seen the shock and confusion on my face.

“I’ve been keeping the children occupied upstairs for Mrs. Hatfield,” she said with a smile, before looking down at the small faces. “Do you all want to say hello to Miss Anderson?”

One by one the children introduced themselves to me, despite their young ages. Oldest to youngest they went, the first being no older than twelve and the youngest maybe four: Elliot, Elizabeth, Mary and Elias. “And this here is baby Detroit,” Roseanna said, looking at the infant in her arms.

“Give him to me and I’ll feed him while you set the table,” Lavicy said, taking her son away from Roseanna. I barely said anything, trying to keep them all straight. My head was swimming.

“Hey there, darlin’,” Johnse said, strolling back into the house, making a beeline for the blonde. He gave her a quick peck on the lips, before turning to grin at me. “See you’ve met Miss Emma Yankee.”

“Emma was just gettin’ introduced to the children,” Lavicy said. “She’ll be stayin’ with us for a time.”

“Who’s gonna be stayin’ with us?”

I turned to the door again to see a tall man with a short beard and pipe hanging from his lips. A revolver hung at his belt and he radiated authority. There was no mistaking his intimidating figure. Devil Anse.

Cap stood behind him with another man, younger then Devil Anse but similar in looks, and a third – a boy with almost white hair and crystal blue eyes. I gulped. Devil Anse was incredibly intimidating in person, more so that than picture could have let on. He stared me coolly and not without interest.

“This is Miss Emma Anderson,” Lavicy said, coming to stand next to me. I saw her discreetly shove Aunt Flo’s letter into her apron pocket. “Florence Anderson’s ward from New York.”

“Florence Anderson’s dead. And I didn’t realize she had a ward.” Anse was not one to mince words, not saying more than absolutely necessary.

I opened my mouth to respond – though I had no idea what I was about to say, but Lavicy cut in.

“Word didn’t reach up north about Florence’s passing. Miss Anderson just showed up today. I told her we’d take her in.”

Devil Anse continued to stare at me, but addressed his wife. Everyone in the room hung on their interaction.

“Where are you parents?” He asked me, but once again, Lavicy took over.

“Dead,” she replied and I fought the urge to look at her. “Fire took them, God rest their souls.” Well, it wasn’t really a lie.

Devil Anse shot his wife a hard look. “And does she speak, this Miss Emma Anderson of New York?”

I gulped. “Yes…Yes, sir.” I stopped, trying to think of something else to say. He looked at me some more.

“How’d you get here?”

“We found her by the road, Pa,” Johnse jumped in quickly and Devil Anse looked at his son. Johnse didn’t seem to know when and when not to talk.

“Boy, be quiet.” Johnse promptly shut his mouth. His father took a drag of his pipe and then propped his hands on his waist with a heavy sigh. “We’ve too many mouths to feed as it is,” he said. “Can’t be taken in just any body, now can we. We’ve already got one lost girl.”

I saw Roseanna shrink back out of the corner of my eye.

“She’s got money, husband,” Lavicy said. “Florence left her a good amount. She can help me with the children and the house chores, and can contribute.”

“I really don’t want to be a burden,” I finally spoke up, wondering when this dream would be over. “I’m sure I can get a room in town or something until…”

Until what? I came out of whatever coma I was in? Until it was 2014 again?

“Nonsense,” Devil Anse said sharply, as if I were an idiot. “A young woman in a room all by herself – unheard of.” He sighed. “You are practically kin, I suppose.”

Lavicy relaxed considerably beside me. Apparently, she had won the day. Devil Anse had given in. “So what’s for supper?”