[The History Mystery 01.0] Time and Again Read online

  She was right: Kate didn’t believe it—she literally didn’t believe it. She insisted that Abby was trying to get back at her for all the practical jokes she had pulled on her. She laughed the whole time. “Good one, Abby,” Kate said. “Of course, Lincoln slept in your house. He slept in every old house in Illinois.”

  Abby kept trying to describe Lincoln, but Kate said not to bother—everyone in Springfield was an expert on the subject of Lincoln.

  “But you’re good,” Kate said. “You should apply for a job on the Springfield Tourism Board. They shamelessly use Lincoln to sell everything. My personal favorite is the ‘Gettysburger’ served at the Anne Rutledge Restaurant. I have an idea myself that I might submit to them for the cover of the Springfield telephone book: Let Your Lincolns Do the Hawking. Ha, ha, ha. Get it? Instead of let your fingers do—”

  “Yeah, I get it, but that’s not the point,” Abby said. When Kate was in one of her hyper moods, there was no use trying to talk to her. So when a beep signaled a call coming through, she told her rather tersely that she had to go.

  The call was Pat letting them know she would be delayed getting home. She would be staying on for a panel discussion and some “essential” networking opportunities. She would be back by Sunday at the latest. Merrideth grabbed the phone from Abby. But Pat told her she couldn’t talk for long, because she was getting ready to go back and, besides, she didn’t want to run up the phone bill.

  Then Abby tried again to call the computer customer service number. This time the call went right through the first time she dialed, but regular customer service was closed for the day. However, after only a momentary delay, the mechanical operator switched her to their “award-winning after-hours technical service group.”

  At last! A real person she could talk to. But when Abby tried to explain that she wanted to get information about the Beautiful Houses software included with the computer, the technician, who sounded about fifteen, couldn’t seem to grasp the idea. He put her on hold for ten minutes while he consulted his “resources,” then was back to tell her that she would need to call during regular office hours and talk to someone in customer service.

  “I’m in a loop,” she said, slamming the phone down in exasperation.

  Merrideth was gone. She finally found her sitting in the dark on the front porch steps, gazing up into the night sky.

  Abby sat down next to her. “I still can’t get over the difference from the city. It seems like there are a zillion more stars here than we ever have there.”

  She glanced at Merrideth, who sat resting her head on her knees. Faint strains of Elvis came from somewhere down the road.

  “It’s about time for the train.”

  “Yeah. I know.”

  “You seem sad tonight, Merrideth. Is it because your mom’s not coming home tomorrow?”

  “Oh well,” Merrideth answered. “I guess that just gives us more time before we have to get back to long division.”

  She squeezed Merrideth’s arm.

  “I wish Dad would come. But it’s not just that.”

  “What, then?”

  “Charlotte, I guess. I feel sort of strange now after being with her all day.”

  “Yes, me too. It’s kind of a letdown.” She chuckled. “It’s like we’re just home from a foreign country, only no postcards to show for it.”

  “But it’s so sad,” Merrideth blurted out. “I feel sorry for her being stuck in that town…er…this town—whatever—and having to work all the time. After all, she’s only sixteen. ‘Too busy. Too busy.’ They’re always too busy— even in the olden days.”

  Abby was pretty sure her psych professor would say Merrideth was projecting. “Charlotte doesn’t seem sad to me.”

  They watched the lights of the Amtrak approaching fast from the south. When it neared the old depot, its whistle wailed, even though no passengers would be disembarking at Miles Station, and hadn’t in over sixty years. Was it from some longstanding tradition of respect for the old train stop?

  When the train was even with the porch, they could see, where window shades were up, the unsuspecting faces of passengers lit up like actors under stage lights. Then the train was past, on its route north and east through all the small towns of the prairie, then the larger ones, and finally Grand Central Station in Chicago.

  Merrideth followed its progress until it had disappeared from view behind the shadowy trees. “If I were her, I would have just hopped the train to the fair. Get out of this place.”

  Abby put an arm around Merrideth. She didn’t even shake it off. “Charlotte’s life seems pretty happy to me. Just because she didn’t get to go to the fair doesn’t mean she’s not basically happy. I wonder how far forward in time the program goes? It would be cool if it came all the way to our time.”

  “But maybe we don’t want to go forward too far.”

  “Don’t you want to see what happens next?” Abby said.

  “Sure, but…well, I just don’t want to go too far.”

  Abby thought about Charlotte and the passing of time. Maybe Merrideth was right. She didn’t know if she could stand to watch her grow old. “How about tomorrow we try going back farther in time? Maybe we’ll see when Miles Station was first settled, depending on how extensive the software researcher got.”

  “That would be interesting, I guess. But I still want to see Charlotte go to Alton,” Merrideth said.

  “Okay, the future it is—just not too far. You know, maybe I’ll use this for a term paper this fall.”

  Merrideth stood and started back to the house. “And I'll tell all the kids at school that Lincoln slept in my house.”

  Chapter 15

  The next morning, Abby told herself that she would show some self-control by taking the time to call Customer Support before she let herself go back to stalking Charlotte. Merrideth set no such restrictions on herself.

  “That was the biggest waste of fifty-five minutes I’ve had in a long time,” Abby said when she finally got to the computer room.

  “What’d they say?”

  “That I should try calling the Montel Williams Show,” Abby said in disgust. “The guy said they would probably have a spot for me when they do their show on reincarnation. That little gem of wisdom came after I had waited in the queue for twenty minutes, then got transferred to various baby techs as I made my way up the hierarchy to the Technician in Chief.”

  “You could have saved yourself a lot of time, because this is not a software program,” Merrideth insisted. “Well, not a regular one.”

  “I’m telling you, Charlotte’s not real,” Abby said, pretending to pull her hair in frustration.

  “Of course she’s real. We read all about the Miles’ family in the history books.”

  “Haven’t you ever read historical fiction? The characters may be real people, but the author makes up a fictional story about them. Nobody could know all these details about Charlotte’s life.”

  “I don’t care what you say. She’s real.” Merrideth turned back to the monitor to watch Charlotte.

  “I want to go to the library again to look up some stuff about Lincoln,” Abby said as they finished eating lunch.

  “You mean you want to go see John,” Merrideth said.

  “Don’t be silly. I need to do some research on—”

  “Hello. If you wanted to do ‘research,’ you’d be surfing the web right now,” Merrideth said with a smug smile.

  “And even if he is cute, I’m not interested at the present time.”

  “Sure.”

  “Besides, I want a man with ambition. I could never get interested in a guy who thinks working at a Tropical Frost is a high-paying job.”

  “Whatever.”

  They browsed the library’s Lincoln collection, such as it was, and settled down in old but comfortable chairs in one quiet corner to read the books they had selected from the shelves. Abby and Merrideth found they did not do well studying together. Every few minutes, one would interrupt
the other’s concentration by blurting out nuggets of interesting information.

  Abby looked up from a book about Lincoln’s life married to Mary Todd. “Hey, guess what? Lincoln was ambitious. I never thought of him that way, but the author says part of the reason he married Mary was because she came from a wealthy, socially prominent family, which was sure to help his political career.”

  “Hey, you said you admired ambition in a man,” Merrideth said without turning from her book on Lincoln’s early life.

  “I don’t mean Lincoln was ambitious in a cut-throat way. And that’s sure not what I’m looking for either.”

  “Did you know he didn’t go to school? He did all his reading and studying on his own, even Shakespeare and stuff like that. He read for hours at night, laying on a pile of leaves, twigs, and animal skins. That was his only bed up until he was a grown man,” Merrideth said in wonder.

  “Lying,” Abby said.

  “He never lied; he was ‘Honest Abe,’ remember?”

  “No, I mean you should say he was lying on a pile of leaves.”

  “Give me a break, Abby. We’re not in English class. Anyway,” she said, giving Abby a pointed look. “He did all his studying without a teacher standing over him with math and grammar books.”

  “That’s because he knew how important education was.” Abby grinned. “If he had an amazing tutor such as moi to help him, who knows how brilliant he would have been.”

  “Right. Anyway, I’m getting tired of this. Let’s go get a snow cone.”

  “But isn’t research fun?”

  “Actually, it is when it’s someone you know.”

  A long line of people was waiting to be served when she and Merrideth got there. When they discovered John wasn’t there, Merrideth nudged her arm, and she tried not to show her disappointment. There was an elderly woman at the counter. She seemed rattled by the crowd and was slow and inefficient at taking money and handing out cones. Fortunately, everyone seemed to be cutting her some slack. Eventually, the line shortened and it was their turn.

  “Sorry about the delay,” she gasped, wiping her face with a paper napkin. “First day on the job. My name’s Elsie. What flavor do you want?”

  “Pineapple—just plain pineapple—for my friend, and I’ll have the Cheery Cherry.” Sooner than they had expected, they had their cones in hand and Abby asked, “Doesn’t John work here anymore, Elsie?”

  “Why, mercy. Yes, girl. Where else would he work?”

  “I suppose there aren’t many places to work around here.”

  “There’s some. And as smart as he is—got a full scholarship to the University of Illinois, you know—anyway, he could work any place he wanted. Like maybe at Rural King or the Farmer’s Co-op or—”

  “So why here?” Abby said.

  “Hey, don’t knock it. It’s better than being a greeter at Walmart. That was my last job. But he works here because he owns the place. Has ever since he was a junior in high school, and now that boy’s a junior at the college, believe it or not.”

  “No wonder he said the pay was good,” Abby said.

  Elsie snorted. “Course the pay’s not good. He knew that when he saved his money to buy this place. He opened it for the kids to have a little fun in this town. Not to get rich, though with his ambition I’m sure he will be someday. He’s studying to be a lawyer.”

  “Don’t you think ambition is so important in a young man?” Merrideth said sincerely.

  “Oh, be quiet, Merrideth,” Abby said under her breath. “Speaking of ambition, we’ve got to go home and get to work.” She smiled at Elsie. “Thanks for the snow cones.”

  When they opened Beautiful Houses, Abby set the controls and they occupied themselves watching the mundane details of Charlotte’s life. Merrideth agreed not to speed up too fast for fear they would miss something interesting.

  Abby was more interested than Merrideth in the developing romance between Charlotte and James McGuire. And she liked to hear James’ accounts of his work with Lincoln in the Springfield law office. They never did get all the details of the case Lincoln was working on for Jonathan Miles—some complaint against the railroad company for failing to compensate for timber he sold them.

  But James seemed to make many trips to Miles Station to confer with Jonathan—not that he actually spent much time in the office. More often, he strolled with Charlotte in the garden or around the village. And he always stayed behind to help with the heavy pots and pans after one of Charlotte’s meals.

  Merrideth was beginning to be bored by the adult conversation, and Abby was just about to speed up when they caught the announcement James was making at the table. Mr. Lincoln would be seeking a seat in the Senate.

  James’ face was a comical mixture of conflicting emotions. On one hand, he was proud and excited that he would continue to be the assistant of the new senator, when he was elected—and he was sure he would be. And he had nothing but praise for the character, honesty, and kindness of the man for whom he worked. He was confident Mr. Lincoln would be the best senator the state had ever had, far greater than that windbag Stephen Douglas who was running against him.

  But on the other hand, James knew that his free time would be limited for the next several months, and he probably would not get to see Charlotte for a while.

  James’ announcement that Lincoln would run against Douglas for the Senate was no surprise to Abby. She knew that the campaign would focus on whether or not slavery should be allowed into the Western territories of the United State. And she knew that the two candidates would square off against each other across the state in a series of seven debates that would capture the attention of the whole country.

  What she had not realized until she heard the announcement at the Miles’ dining room table was that the last of the famous Lincoln-Douglas debates took place only twenty miles away in Alton on October 15, 1858.

  They did not have to time-surf past very many months—boring, lonely ones for Charlotte—before they began to see flyers posted around the village listing the dates and times of all the debates. Everywhere in Miles Station, the conversation turned to the progress of the political campaigns of the “elegant” Democratic candidate Stephen Douglas and the “homely” Republican candidate Abraham Lincoln.

  Travelers passing through were kind enough to leave copies of the Daily Courier from Alton or the Illinois State Register from Springfield. The newspapers were eagerly read and re-read by the villagers, and Abby and Merrideth began to realize the huge importance such events were in the lives of an earlier generation. Entertainment of any sort was a rarity that no one took for granted.

  Reporters boasted their skill with the new shorthand method and promised to capture the “full phonographic verbatim reports” of the “Last Great Discussion.” Some villagers made plans to hear the debate in person, and many more made that decision when the newspapers informed them that the Chicago and Alton Railroad Company would carry passengers at half-fare.

  Abby and Merrideth were happy that at last Charlotte would get her chance to ride the train to Alton. And although it was not the State Fair, the entertainment would be every bit as exciting for her. An added attraction for Charlotte was that she and her father would meet James there.

  And now, if Abby could keep the lock on Charlotte when she left the vicinity of Miles Station, she and Merrideth would get to go along too.

  Abby checked all the settings and told Merrideth to keep her fingers crossed. But when the porter handed Charlotte up the steps into the train, they were right there with her. And they stayed with her the whole trip to Alton.

  The day was cool and overcast and rain threatened, but nothing could dampen Charlotte’s excitement, or that of the nearly five thousand people crowding the streets of Alton. People had come for many miles for the chance to hear the two politicians debate. When they stepped from the train, the bustle and noise of the crowd was at first overwhelming, but Charlotte felt safe at her father’s side and observed everything
with interest. Then James appeared out of the crowd and Charlotte’s felt joy well up and threaten to spill over.

  “There you are, James,” Jonathan said above the noise of the crowd.

  “Mr. Lincoln,” James said, “calls all this ‘fizzlegig and fireworks.’”

  “It is for sure. I’ll leave Charlotte in your capable care—as we discussed earlier.” She saw that a silent message passed between the two men. At her questioning look, her father added, “I’ll be right back—railroad business.”

  “But, Father, how will we find you in this crowd?” Charlotte asked.

  “Don’t worry, sir,” James said to Jonathan. “The hotel is just two blocks down. It’s quiet and Charlotte can rest there until the speech begins.”

  “Surely you’re jesting, James,” she said in alarm. “I want to see every bit of this…this fizzlegig and fireworks.”

  Jonathan took out his pocket watch and pondered it for a bit. “We’ve got about two hours before the speeches are set to begin. Where can I meet you, James?”

  “I have reserved seats in the tenth row right in front of City Hall. We’ll meet you there.”

  Charlotte smiled in relief and took James’ arm. “Let’s do see it all.”

  Red, white, and blue bunting hung from every imaginable surface, and a marching band was coming up State Street behind them. A souvenir seller hawking his wares caught Charlotte’s attention, but she had so little spending money that the thought of stopping never occurred to her. Watching her face, James was quick to interpret the wistful look and insisted that Charlotte have a memento of the occasion. She picked out a miniature log cabin with the words Honest Abe inscribed on its roof.

  After James paid the vendor, they decided to walk the two blocks to the landing on Front Street to watch the passengers disembarking from the steamboat White Cloud, up from St. Louis. Charlotte knew that her dress and accessories would never compare to those of the belles and matrons in crinolines with tiny parasols being escorted by gentlemen in frock coats and silk high hats. But she didn’t care. She was wearing her best and knew, with a passing recognition of her vanity, that she at least out-dressed the farm women in their gingham.