Out of the Past

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Amazon 5* Review~~
I would never have thought family history could be made this interesting to the point were I could not put it down. The characters were very realistic and lovable. Great read. Left me wanting to read more.

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Torie travels to 1891 and inhabits the body of her great-grandaunt Mahala Wyman

                                            Dr. Jacob Krout and family

        I became aware of the weight, as a person sat down beside me and I looked over to see a man dressed in a black suit. He put a stethoscope in his ears, unbuttoned my gown and placed the disc over my chest, listening to my heart. He was Dr. Jacob Krout. He had been the doctor in Fremont for more than forty-three years. He looked young, and was probably in his early thirties. I had seen several photographs of him which people had added to his online memorial. He was buried in Cedar with his family. His wife Mary Alice was a Dinsmore.

      He quietly listened to my heart as I studied his kind face.

      “Take a deep breath Mahala,” he requested. “And another. Good.” He smiled kindly at me and buttoned my gown. “I will be making the rounds to see your sister Ivy when I leave here. She and Joshua are sure looking forward to that little one. I don’t think I have ever seen a couple more anxious for a child.”

      The doctor looked from me, to some point at my left and I became aware that someone was holding my hand. My great-great-grandma Rose was sitting beside me, in a chair.

      “We are all looking forward to that new grand baby,” Rose said, patting my hand. “I think Mahala more than anyone. How is your family, Dr. Krout? Mary Alice and little Erma,”

      “Everyone is just fine. Erma will be going on ten years next month.”

      The doctor looked back to me and smiled. “I will stop again tomorrow,” he assured, rising and taking his stethoscope from his neck to place it into his medical bag on the floor beside him.

      “I’ll see you out, Doctor,” Rose offered.

      “I can see myself out, Rose.” He patted her shoulder and walked to the door. “Until tomorrow,”

      Rose turned her attention back to me as the bedroom door closed softy and I noticed she had a bible open in her lap. She began reading to me from some chapter. I have no idea what chapter it was. The good book wasn’t one of those on my book shelf. I hadn’t cracked a bible since I was confirmed at thirteen years old. Rose finished the passage and then lifted my hand and kissed the back gently.

      “Mahala, you are the light of my life, sweetheart. I want you to know that. I love you so much. We will read and pray every day until you are well. I have faith in God. You need to have faith and believe.”

     “I will, Mother. Mother, what day is it?”

     “Friday, April 10.”

     “What year?”

     She looked at me as though fearing I was having a fit or something. She touched my forehead gently, searching for fever. I was almost certain I knew the year because the doctor mentioned Ivy being anxious to deliver Katie, but I just wanted it confirmed.

     “Eighteen ninety-one, sweet,”

     Mahala Wyman died on April 11, 1891.

Into the Future

         

       As I looked about the cemetery now, I started at the edge of the line of cedar trees along the south side of the drive. Everything south of this side of the drive was more recent graves, starting from the early nineteen hundreds and on. At the time of the newborn's funeral back in 1873 the southeast corner would have been just down the hill near the current fence line.

              I had assisted Clara with her hand in the crook of my arm as I carried the coffin to the open grave and with Clara's brother Walker’s assistance, placed the child in her final resting place. I had consciously tried to recall the lay of the land so that I could find it when I returned from the warp. It was out in the open part of the cemetery and not under the trees but the line of cedars was easily seen from the grave.

        The sun was shining bright and I didn’t think I should have any trouble finding the stone if it existed because the gems and pyrite would be sparkling on a day like today. I went all the way to the fence line and then turned to let my eyes scan the area. Nothing. I supposed that possibly it was never made. I had felt confident, though as Walker took the sacks of stones and placed them into the saddlebags of his horse that his intentions were to get it done.

          There was a simple white stone that caught my eye because it was broken off at the base and was lying on its side along its edge.  I headed over to investigate what was holding it propped up. When I lifted it I found that what it had been propped against was the headstone of Fairy June McFall.

       Fairy’s stone was about eighteen inches tall and a wedge shape with a thicker base. It was seated on a concrete slab. It had the exact style that Clara had asked of her brother. The entire stone sparkled now and the gems were just beautiful in the sunlight. The edge of the right corner of the monument had been sheared off slightly by the other headstone leaning against it for so long. I decided to lay the limestone monument on the ground. Fairy’s stone was already broken and I didn’t want it to cause any more damage by leaning it against it again. As I let the slab drop I saw the face of the stone.

       “Oh shit!” I whispered.

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