Igor and Alex stood in a small glen, alongside a steep hillside. A small, dark cave opened several feet over her head. The Bridge, she knew. At least this one wasn't all foggy and cold.
"First we'll get you back to 1886," Igor said. "Then you'll be on your own. When you go through that cave, you'll find yourself just outside Hartford, where I showed you on the map." He paused for a few moments, then said, "I'm very proud of you for doing this."
In their short time together, Alex had become very fond of Igor. He had a nice sense of humor, a beautiful voice that always reassured her, and a friendly manner about him. They shook hands solemnly, then hugged.
"Okay, are you ready now?" he asked. When she nodded and closed her eyes, his soft voice began the countdown of years, as before, then the months, then the days to "fifteenth, fourteenth, thirteenth of July, 1886."
His voice stopped, she opened her eyes, and immediately knew that she had gone back!
Half the journey was done. She carefully climbed the small slope, then sat in the mouth of the cave. She looked back at Sandorra. In her short time here (either a few days or few minutes), she had grown to like the land and the people. She'd become used to seeing mushrooms as tall as small trees, and real trees so high overhead that she couldn't make out the branches. And the people, especially Deanna and Igor, but everyone else too, were people she knew she wanted to see again.
But now it was time. She swung her legs about, and began inching her way into the dark cave. She had no idea how far it would be. The light from behind her was beginning to fade. On her hands and knees, she rounded the first corner, and it became even darker. She went more slowly, then bumped her head on a wall she couldn't see. So far, this whole adventure had been very tough on the top of her head. She turned to the left. To her relief, she saw that the floor of the cave was lighter ahead. She crawled more quickly now that she could see a little, then made one final turn and saw bright sunlight just ahead.
She stuck her head out of the cave, and saw she was just a short distance above a stream. It was a clear, sunny day, exactly the kind of day she had left behind when she first crossed the Bridge to Sandorra.
The stream ran through a gully. Looking downstream, she could see a bridge crossing the gully, and on both sides of the road she could see the tops of houses.
Carefully, she made her way down the slope to the floor of the gully. She brushed off her clothes, rinsed her hands in the water, then headed downstream toward the bridge. It was an easy climb to get out of the gully onto the roadway. This she knew from the map, was Hawthorn Street. She was staying at a boarding house at 322 Hawthorn Street. She headed off toward the right, and passed in front of the first house on the right, number 431.
It was a large, wooden house, painted mainly a rich, dark green, with a wide front porch that reached around both sides, farther back than she could see. The porch was full of white wicker furniture with brightly flowered cushions. The top of the porch, as well as the rest of the house, was decorated with 'gingerbread,' the fancy corners and arches and spindles that made these old houses so wonderful to look at. Then Alex remembered that these 'old' houses weren't so old now.
The gingerbread was painted a lighter shade of green that blended nicely with the darker green. Most of the windows were open, and curtains of many different colors shimmered in the slight breeze. The curtains in one window hung outside.
There was a wide double door on the front porch, and the top half of each door was an etched-glass window. Above both doors was a single long window, about eight inches high, of ruby-red glass. There were words on the window, but Alex was too far away to read them.
The house had a wide side yard, with a big old shade tree right in the middle of the lawn. A young boy, perhaps five, was playing in a bare spot in the lawn, pushing a tiny horse and carriage around in a circle. He was wearing a white short- sleeved shirt, brown pants with brown suspenders, and a small round cap. His pant legs were rolled up a little to reveal heavy-looking black shoes. His face was heavily freckled, and big ears, exposed by a short haircut, stuck out unevenly. He looked like a cartoon, almost, of the cute mischief-maker. A slightly older girl, who looked like his sister, was sitting on a porch step, reading a book. She was dressed as though she were waiting to go somewhere: pretty white dress, black shoes, dainty white socks. From inside the house came the sounds of someone practicing a piano tune, badly.
Once again, Alex had the feeling of sadness, realizing that these were real, live people, and if they still lived in her time, they'd be over a hundred years old.
Alex wanted to stop and watch life happening, but knew she must continue. She walked further along Hawthorn Street, passing down through the four-hundreds to the three-hundreds. All the houses were as pretty as the first green one she'd studied; all had wonderful porches; all were decorated and multi-colored; all had wide shaded lawns. The street itself was paved (Alex had expected dirt streets) and had tall old trees that intertwined overhead. There were ornate black street lights, which were probably gas, about two or three per block.
As she walked, she passed numerous children either playing by themselves or playing games in small groups. Boys and girls seemed to stay separate. One large group of boys was playing a game which Wendy had described to her, called "ring-o-levio" (it was spelled, pronounced, and played differently everywhere) which consisted of a line of boys, bent over at their waists, with other boys running and jumping onto their backs. Eventually, the entire line would collapse, a great hubbub would occur, and the process would start over. It made no sense at all, but seemed like great fun. Of course, Alex couldn't even think of playing such a boys' game here.
In several yards, men in rolled-up short sleeves, all wearing either straw hats or other kinds of caps, pushed lawn mowers. The sounds of the lawnmowers blended together into a rich kind of mechanical sound she hadn't heard before. Missing was the roar of gasoline engines. She watched one young man work from front to back of a long yard, tilt back his straw hat and wipe his forehead with a large handkerchief from his back pocket, then start again from back to front. He seemed to be very careful not to overlap the cuts too much, obviously wanting to get out of the warm sun. When he came to the front of the lawn, near Alex, he nodded politely and said, "Nice day, isn't it?"
She managed to agree with him, then walked on. She felt a fear of talking to these people, a fear of being exposed. She remembered when she had taken her first year of Spanish in third grade. Even though she had taken the Language Prize and felt comfortable during tests in school, when she had the chance to actually speak in Spanish to a visitor from Venezuela, she was too unsure of herself to say anything at all.
Across the street she saw the number "322" on a black iron mailbox. It stood in front of the largest and grandest house she had seen so far. It was three stories high, a light lavender color, with reddish-purple trim. The porch seemed to wrap all the way around, and was full of wicker furniture. The cushions were a lavender to match the house. At the right front corner of the porch, she could see chains and the top of a swing. The railings of the porch were filled with clay flower pots of bright red geraniums. It was not only grand, but sparkling clean and neat.
But most wonderful was the upper floor of the house, with its collections of eaves and dormers and other things Alex could not name. One corner of the house, the one with the porch swing, had a rounded tower which rose to the height of the highest roof peak.
The roof itself was a forest of peaks, valleys, chimneys, lightning rods, and a weather vane with a rotating copper pig! Each lightning rod had, halfway up its length, either a round- faced sun or a crescent-faced moon.
The house was surrounded by a lawn, with fine old shade trees all around. The lawn was surrounded by a low hedge with red berries. In front of the house, the hedge sloped upward on both sides of a white iron gate. Alex crossed the street and opened the gate, which easily swung outward. As soon as she closed the gate, a large golden retriever bounded around a corner of the porch, wagging its tail, barking excitedly, and obviously acting as the welcoming committee. Alex stopped, put out her hand for him to sniff, then patted his head when he accepted her.
She crossed the wide front lawn, walking a smooth brick path partially covered with moss. Alex was pleased to see that the moss here was moss-high, not knee-high. Accompanied by her escort, she climbed the four steps to the porch, then rang the doorbell alongside the wooden double doors.
Through the wavy pink-tinted glass alongside the doors, she could see a large female figure coming. A tall, wide black woman opened the door. She was cheerful looking, very dark, with a round face. She was wearing a long-sleeved, full length dress, pink with tiny flowers, and a white apron. Her head was covered with a tied kerchief, whose color matched the dress. A big smile creased her face. "Can I help you, child?" she asked.
"Yes," she answered, "my father rented a room here for us, if I'm at the right place. Is this Mrs. Bloomfield's boarding house?"
"Sure is, come right on in," she said. "My name is Jane Simpson; call me Jane."
"My name is Alexandra Lee," she said, entering the house. The dog slipped past her and, having completed its duties as official greeter, disappeared around a corner. It was cool and dark inside. The entry foyer was papered in a dark flowered pattern. There was an empty coat rack, an empty umbrella stand, and an impressive piece of walnut furniture that included a full- length mirror, coat hooks on both sides, and places for several knick-knacks.
"That was Goldenrod," Jane said, smiling and looking after the dog. "Mrs. Bloomfield isn't here right now." She led Alex across the foyer to the room opposite. "I'll show you around some, then take you to your room. This is the dining room." It was crowded with a long table with ten or twelve chairs, and a long hutch loaded with dishes in a variety of patterns. The chairs were thickly padded, and flowered. The center of the table bore a large vase with bright zinnias from the garden. There were two small wheeled serving tables along one wall, with two extra chairs. "Breakfast is at 7:00, dinner at 6:00," she said. "The kitchen's in there."
Alex could see a big black iron stove, with a bucket of coal alongside. Copper pots hung from the ceiling, and in the center of the room was a long, wide worktable. The double sink had a water pump with a long, curved iron handle. Dried herbs hung in clusters from various places, and the whole room had a kind of marvelous disorder to it. Through a large window, Alex could see the flower garden from which the zinnias had come. A large pot simmered on the stove, with an incredible aroma coming from it.
Next was the parlor, with three sofas, and several overstuffed chairs. Over the large fireplace was a long mantel full of figurines, pictures, and other mementoes, and in the center was a large white plaster figure showing several people grouped around a piano.
The rest of the first floor was a small library with every inch of shelf space fully stuffed, a mud room, a pantry, a small bathroom, and two other rooms of unknown function.
Alex's room was on the third floor, at the back of the house. Jane opened the door for her, and Alex entered the small bedroom with a single bed, washstand with a basin and towels draped over a rack, dark wooden bureau, and a wooden chest shaped like a pirate's chest. The floor was dark wood, with a blood-red (but slightly faded) area rug that covered most of the floor. One window overlooked the back garden, the other overlooked a narrow side garden and an unpaved alleyway, which separated the boarding house from its neighbor. "This is the coolest room, because of the two windows," Jane said.
Alex thanked her, promised to be on time for dinner, then lay on the soft bed. It felt good just to relax and get her bearings. She'd come a long way (about two hundred miles) and a long time (over a hundred years) since starting this trip. With those thoughts, she promptly fell asleep.