Another Chance by Janet Cooper Read Free Book Online Page A

but swallowed the retort. "Fear?" she offered.
    "Doeth thou not trust in the Lord?"
    "Yes ." But He might be busy and I'm here now. For an instant, she wondered where "here" was, still a dream or a new reality?
    He glanced at her attire . "Thou is not properly gowned," he admonished.
    "Yes, Father," the word slipped out, astonishing her . Was she as mad as all those about her?  Her father had passed on two years ago. An unbidden thought quickly filled her mind, of her mother who had followed quickly after him. She swallowed remembering losing her only family Inclining her head, partially to hide the tears forming and partially from respect, she retraced her steps. Why had she obeyed?  Whose dream was this?  A horrible thought stabbed her. Might it not be her imagination?  She refused to consider that.
    As she walked, the chill in the air attacked her . Earlier, the excitement had kept Sarah unaware of the temperature or that she wore only a shift. No wonder Benjamin had been distressed by her déshabillé . While the cold chewed her insides, the sense of losing control struck again. If this was happening, then last night had happened. She, Sarah Tawes, had met an 18th Century Lenape Indian. She pinched herself. The pain startled her. Two small nail prints appeared. She recalled the burn on her hand and remembered it had hurt. Glancing quickly at her hand, she noticed the red spot. Why was this happening?  Sarah hadn't a clue. However, she decided to see "it," whatever that was, though.
    After washing, she brushed her teeth as best she could with her finger, resolving to find a twig to help . A twig. Who would have guessed what she had demonstrated at the museum would become a way of life? When she finished, she wondered what to wear. Last evening, she'd hung her costume on a wall hook, but slept in her shift. She glanced down at the badly wrinkled chemise. She sniffed and the aroma of wood smoke greeted her. Ugh!  I do hope I have clean ones.
    The stench again invoked a memory of the men she had served last night and made her wrinkle her nose until she recalled Luke Keenan. The smell of pine, fresh air and a hint of maleness appear to be his trademark. His scent reminded her of the fragrance she had sensed when her neighbor had visited her home. Sarah shivered partly at the memory.
    Needing to get warm, she searched for clothes . A chest stood at the foot of the bed. Kneeling down, she opened it. On one side lay a large pile of linen shifts, corsets, un-boned bodices called "jumps," and cotton and woolen stockings, but of course, no underpants. Thank goodness she had worn hers, but she had forgotten to wash them last night. She would have to go without for a day. This idea didn't please her.
    The next section held aprons . To the left, flannel and cambric petticoats, closest to the end short gowns of varying colors, all folded. Sarah marveled at the neatness. If anyone opened her drawers, she'd died. Pushing the impossible thought of not returning aside, she reconsidered the number of clothes available. Benjamin must be far wealthier than Sarah had suspected, judging by the size of her wardrobe. She remembered reading how a colonial lady passed her clothes onto other relatives, and the receiver appreciated the ‘gift’.
    Feeling cold seeping into her legs, Sarah threw on a clean shift, drew on white stockings, and tied them with dark blue garters. She dropped her pocket over her head, secured it at her waist, and then put her sewing kit and penknife inside. Her navy blue petticoat followed. Finding a white and blue stripped short gown, she pulled it on and fastened the bodice with straight pins. A milk-white apron finished off her attire.
    "Daughter," Benjamin called up the staircase. "Daniel just arrived and has news."
    As she started for the steps, a cold stream of air attacked her upper thighs, so much for going without panties. Sarah grabbed a worn apron, tore it and made a diaper for herself. Anxious to hear the