An hour later, Edith and I left the brownstone mansion to cross Fifth Avenue and enter Central Park. I had changed into a soft blue walking gown, and Edith had pinned a large matching hat on my head. I’d purposely chosen a hat with a veil, hoping to hide the emotions playing upon my face.
I thought I had always known how I felt about leaving this time path—and I had not changed my mind—but I hadn’t allowed myself to truly think about this final year. I was facing a year of good-byes, even if the people around me weren’t aware. I just hadn’t thought the first good-bye might be to my mother.
The air was hot and humid as we meandered along the shaded paths with no particular destination. Edith walked beside me as we passed through the park’s menagerie. I usually conversed with her on walks like this, but today I had nothing to say. She knew I had accepted Lord Cumberland’s proposal, but shedidn’t press me for the details. I wasn’t too concerned about the betrothal, but I still didn’t want to think about it. With the Atlantic between us and the threat of Mother’s death, a yearlong engagement would not only be acceptable, it would be expected.
Even with Edith at my side, my loneliness overwhelmed me, more so than usual. With my impending departure next year, I longed to discuss my other path with her. I thought about Congressman Hollingsworth for the first time since Mother grew ill. Part of me wanted to go to Virginia to talk to him, but the other part knew it was foolish. What good could come from knowing more about the lives of other time-crossers?
All my society friends were in Newport, though they couldn’t ease this loneliness I felt either. Perhaps, if I could be by the ocean, it might be a little better. But even if we were in Newport, it would not erase the pain of Mother’s illness or the eventual loss of this life.
Birds sang in the trees overhead while white clouds drifted in the bright blue sky. The smell of popcorn mingled with the sound of children laughing and playing. The world I currently occupied was a beautiful one—and I was extremely blessed. I could not deny that. New York City in 1914 was magnificent, especially with the luxuries afforded to me. The life I lived was a charmed one, even if it was tainted by Mother’s machinations. If it had been the only one I’d been given, I could have learned how to be content.
But it wasn’t the only life I’d been given. The one in which Mama and Henry resided was my true home. Yes, I would miss the motorcars and the indoor plumbing. I would miss the electricity and modern medicine. I would miss the conveniences of the telephone and the elevator—but none of those things could compare to what I was gaining in purpose and pleasure.
We came upon the Lake and boathouse. Edith and I bought peanuts, which we ate as we watched people rowing on the water. All around us, people were laughing and playing—surroundingme with life—but it only made me feel more isolated. I was eager to return home for luncheon.
“Cook has a special surprise for your lunch,” Edith said, trying to draw out a smile. “Chicken fricassee.”
I did smile, thinking about how different our cook, Mrs. Malone, prepared her chicken fricassee than Mariah.
Since Father was home today, I wouldn’t have to eat alone. Perhaps, by the time I arrived back at the mansion, he would have convinced Mother to go to the hospital. The thought quickened my steps.
At home, Edith and I went to my room so I could change for the third time. I would not miss this exhausting ritual when I left this path. I often changed outfits six or seven times a day.
It didn’t take long to put on an afternoon gown, and when I finally reached the dining room, Father was already there, waiting for me. He rose from his place at the table and offered me a tight smile.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, immediately sensing that he had bad news. “Is it Mother?”
He opened his mouth to reply but was interrupted.
“Elizabeth, I’m so happy you’ve returned. We have so much to do.”
I spun on my heels, my mouth slipping open, as Mother entered the large dining room.
For the first time in weeks, she was properly dressed, though her gown hung off her frame in an appalling manner. Her hair was combed and styled in her usual twist, yet her skin was still a sickly pale. The transformation was remarkable from what she had looked like on her bed, hardly breathing, just this morning.
“Mother.” I stared at her. “What? How?”
“It’s a miracle,” Father said, his voice flat and dry. “I had Dr. Payne come to examine her, and he said he’s never seen anything like it before.” He leveled Mother with a cool stare. “It appears that whatever was causing her distress has vanished.”
“I feel like a new woman,” Mother said, ignoring the storm gathering around her. She allowed a footman to pull out the seat at Father’s right hand.
Another footman held out a chair for me. As I sat, I could not take my eyes off her. Was she truly on the mend?
As the first course was brought out by the footmen, Mother placed her napkin on her lap. “It feels good to be among the land of the living again.” She took a deep breath and gave us a contented smile.
“Perhaps it’s not too late to go to Newport,” I said, hope in my voice.
“Oh no, we couldn’t.” Mother shook her head as she picked up her soup spoon to sample the tomato bisque set before us. “We have too much to do.”
Father narrowed his eyes, and I noticed he had not touched his food.
“What is there to do?” I asked.
“Plan the wedding, of course.” Mother lifted an eyebrow at me. “Now that you have finally agreed.”
A cold sweat broke out across my forehead.
“The wedding?” I choked on the word as I looked from her to Father. “We have months to think about that.”
