Stargazer
by Karen D. Morton
Copyright 1989 by Karen D. Morton. All rights reserved.

Chapter 5
1895

     I let my tears flow with the rain outside my bedroom
window.  This was my third day of self-imposed solitude.  I had left
the house only to go to work.  I skipped Thursday night's quilting
bee and our church's Flag Day picnic.  I was afraid I'd burst into
tears in public.  I preferred to do my thinking -- and crying alone.
     John stirred so many emotions within me, I didn't know what
to do.  I wanted his kisses far more than I could have ever imagined. 
At the same time, I knew my desires were wrong.  Sinful lusts led
only to anguish and heartache.  The only way I could ever let him
touch me would be to marry him, and that would mean opening my
heart to him.  I was afraid to even see him again.  He could very
easily take me by force, and I wasn't sure I could live through that
kind of torture again.  Perhaps it would be best to simply let him
leave.
     No.  No matter what I had done in the past, I couldn't bear
to face a lifetime of loneliness.  That was how Minnelkin's pitiful tale
had planted the seeds of distrust.  He had come to me at a time of
weakness, and I had let his woeful manner convince me that John
was guilty of a horrible crime.  John probably wouldn't have done
anything to hurt that girl, yet he could possibly weaken just like any
other man.  I had to know if he was as different as he seemed.  As I
rinsed my face in my porcelain wash basin, I decided visit him again. 
To-day.
     Linda met me at the bottom of the stairs.  "Aunt Car'lyn,
'Liza said to give this to you."  She held out an envelope.
     "Come on, girl!"  Eliza called.  "We ain't got all day!"
     "'Bye sugar."  Linda kissed my cheek before she left.
     The envelope contained a telegram from Mother.  She and
Mrs. Fisher were staying for another week in Atlanta.  Feeling
relieved, I walked past the parlor into the entrance hall.
     "Your move," said Eddie to Mr. Cromley.
     I slipped on my jacket and hat.  Moments later, I stood at the
corner of Highland and Sixth.  The street car would come by soon. 
Then what?  Would I tell the stranger I thought I loved him after
only three weeks?
     "Don't be so foolhardy," I told myself.
     The June sun slowly broiled me; perspiration rolled down my
legs to soak my underpants.  At least I didn't need the menstrual
towel today.  My monthly visitor would not cloud my thinking the
way it had on Wednesday night.
     I rented a carriage from Pryor Brown Livery to drive down
MacCammon Street and pick up the River Road ferry.  The Gay
Street Bridge would be closed for two or three years, according to
the newspaper.  Since we had come across the Tennessee River on
that bridge, I feared I would have trouble finding where John had
stopped the carriage.  It had been almost too dark to see.  Why
couldn't he have picked an easier place to find?
     Once across the river, I drove the carriage past the race track
to Old Sevierville Road.  Small signs of civilization gave way to the
woods.  I stopped the carriage in the first clearing off the side of the
dirt road.  These trees all looked alike! As I climbed from the
carriage, I spotted a small pathway that looked like the one John had
taken.
     Woodland creatures scurried from underfoot.  One squirrel
shook its tail at me from a tree. Did I hear thunder?  I felt I had
walked far enough, so I tapped on large maple trees.  It would take
days to find the right one.  A raindrop splashed on my nose.  Which
way back to the carriage?  Thunder booms made my ears ring.  Pick
a direction and run!  I slipped in the mud.  My wet skirts bound my
legs like ropes tied to river boat anchors.  Which way?  Lightning
flashed.  I jumped back.  Too late, I realized I was about to fall
against a tree.
     My top half landed on the Conveyance's entrance hall floor. 
When I pulled the rest of myself inside, rain stopped in mid-air.  I
stuck my hand outside.  Rain splattered onto my arm.  I stepped
back, and it stopped again.  The plain's sunrise didn't move either.  I
stared at the picture-still landscapes until bone-chilling cold forced
me to move.  Clenching my chattering teeth, I walked into the
hallway.
     The monkey dog snored on the small reclined chair.  Its
tightly closed eyes twitched, as if they raced around in their sockets. 
Its mouth snarled around pointed teeth.  I bumped into a wall. 
Perhaps if I held still, it would stay asleep.
     Instead, it sat up.  "Oh.  You again.  What do you want this
time?"
     "Nothing!"  I slipped in the puddle that had been quietly
gathering under my feet.
     "Calm down.  I won't bite you."  It carefully avoided my
water trail as it approached on all four paws.  "You must be
freezing.  Come on."
     I followed it down the hallway to a closed door, which faded
away to reveal a bedroom.  Two of its walls were mirrors, and a
large metal cabinet covered part of the third.  A grey suit was neatly
draped over a chair.  A large bed was butted against one wall with
red Empire style drapes serving as the headboard.  John lay
stretched on the bed; he had no blanket or long johns to cover his
nakedness.  I quickly put my hands over my eyes.
     "Wake up, Greistolon," said the monkey dog.  "Your friend
decided to come back."
     "Carolyn?"
     I faced the wall so I could take my hands from my face. 
"You're naked, Sir."
     His puzzled face reflected from the mirror.  I covered my
eyes again to keep from staring at his well-proportioned body. 
Sinful thoughts made me blush.
     "Oh.  Just a moment."  The rustle of cloth followed a
clattering.  "You can look now."  He had covered himself with a
robe.
     "I can still see you legs."  I faced him. "But I suppose it
would be too much to ask you to put on a pair of britches."
     He laughed, then he turned to the monkey dog.  They stared
at each other for a moment.  Shaking its head, the monkey dog left
us alone.
     "I hope he didn't frighten you too much.  Come this way. 
We'll get you cleaned up."  He took me into a room unlike any water
closet or bath I had ever seen before.  Its walls were also mirrored. 
The water closet (which didn't have any water in it) had a strangely
curving seat.  It was covered by the same skin-like material as the
reclined chairs.  A silver rack had oddly shaped bottles on it, and a
spigot without a handle sat over a small sink.  A towel hung on a
large ring next to the sink.
     "Where is the bath tub?"
     He patted an oblong partition.  "This will clean and dry you. 
If you'll leave your clothes on the floor, I'll take care of them."
     "But it doesn't have a door."
     "It doesn't need one."  He left.
     I unbuttoned my jacket.  When I looked over my shoulder to
see if he watched through the doorway, I saw the door had returned. 
This ship was indeed strange!  The oblong bather let me walk
through its wall.  Inside, a pink light warmed me.  Hot water gushed
on me everywhere at once.  Gentle, invisible hands rubbed me with a
sweet smelling lotion.  I tried to squirm away from the hands that
touched me in my embarrassing places.  More water rinsed away the
lotion.  Warm air blew onto my wet body.  Invisible hands tenderly
brushed and played with my hair.  When it was finished, the bather
pushed me backwards into the bath room.
     "Don't worry, I'm not looking."  John's eyes squeezed shut as
he held out a strange garment made of the same material as the
cover-all he wore.  "I thought this jumpsuit might be more
comfortable than your dress."
     I held up the "jumpsuit" against myself and looked in the
mirror.  The bather had braided my hair to one side.  I would have
to fix it properly after I got dressed.  The suit's material was softer
than any I had ever felt.  Instead of a skirt, it had pant legs.
     "I can't wear this.  It's a man's garment."
     "But I thought some women..."
     "Some wear those awful Bloomers.  But I prefer more
ladylike attire."  I faced him before I realized he had opened his
eyes.  "You promised not to look!"
     "Why should someone as lovely as you be so ashamed of her
body?"
     The preacher had told us the story of Adam and Eve when
Eddie and I were children.  The Tree of Knowledge had opened
their eyes to their nakedness, and they were cast out of Eden. 
Frederick had told me how wonderful my body felt while he
debauched me.  My blouse was opened, my skirt was raised, and he
hurt me inside.  Remembered pain drove me to the floor.
     "Stop crying," said Frederick.  "You know you wanted it."
     John knelt over me.  "Carolyn, who did this?"
     "You know you wanted it," said Frederick.
     "Let me go!"  My nails drew blood.
     "Please tell me about it."  John's arms tightened around me.
     "I can't."  I collapsed against him.
     "Why not?"
     I didn't want to remember it, not ever.  The feelings from
that horrible night came back in spite of my efforts to push them out
of my mind.  I could taste the whiskey and feel the cool autumn
breeze.  Frederick's hands tore and gouged my body; even my face
stung from his blows.  These feelings blurred into a long and painful
sensation.
     I fell against the mirror.  "Stop making it come back!"
     "Carolyn, I know what he did.  I can even guess how.  But
who?  And why?  I can't read your mind.  You've got to tell me."
     "Don't you understand?  I brought it on myself."  Frederick
Quarrels had been my beau four years earlier.  He'd seemed nice
enough when I met him at church.  In the beginning, he called on me
like a gentleman.  Within a few months, I even thought I loved him. 
He would have made me happy with a proposal; instead, he just
visited me for long evenings in the far corner or on the porch. After
a while, Mother and the others kept a discrete distance, and
Frederick began to talk more openly.
     Frederick often talked about love between a man and a
woman:  "We all have passion inside waiting to get out.  Sometimes,
it should."  I was both afraid of -- and intrigued by -- him.  His
sneaky kisses made me hungry for more.  He encouraged me to act
bold and wicked.  To my surprise, I enjoyed playing the vixen.  He
often hinted about the pleasures a man and woman could share,
which I mistakenly interpreted as the prelude to a marriage proposal.
     Father finally gave him permission to take me out for an
evening, as long as I returned home by ten o'clock. "Two young
people should be alone when they plan their lives together," he told
Mother.
     That evening, my first and last outing with Frederick, we had
planned on seeing a show; instead, he talked me into taking a ride
with him.  We rode out past North Knoxville, where he opened a
bottle of whiskey.  He told me it would make me feel wonderful.  I
tried some.  The world spun around me, and I felt at odds with
myself.  The hour was late, but I couldn't go home like this! 
Frederick offered to let me rest in his apartment, so I went home
with him.  When we got inside, he made a pot of coffee.
     "It will make you feel better," he said.
     I sipped the strong brew while he touched my face with a
cool cloth.  Taking the cup from my hand, he laid me back on the
couch.  He kissed me several times.  I was so woozy, I wasn't sure
of what he was doing.  When I felt his hand on my breast, I realized
he would take advantage of me unless I stopped him.
     "Frederick!"
     "You girls are all alike.  You whip a man into a frenzy with
your sighs and kisses, then you expect him to stop when he really
wants more.  Well, you won't tease me tonight!"  He pulled me onto
the floor.  His hand clamped over my mouth before I could scream. 
I bit down and tasted blood.  He slapped my face.  Spots danced
before my eyes.  I tried to hit him.  He twisted my arm until I
thought it was going to break.
     "You like it rough, do you?  Try a little of this!"  Pain shot
from my groin.  My nails drew blood.  Grabbing my shoulders, he
banged my head against the floor.  I must have passed out because
he was now on top of me.  Pain shot up my body from my groin,
this time from inside.  He grunted into my ear, and his body stank of
sweat.  I didn't try to fight for fear it would hurt even more.  After
an eternity of torment, he sighed contentedly and rolled away.  I
curled into a ball and sobbed.
     "Stop crying.  You know you wanted it."  He threw a towel
at me.  "Clean yourself up and get out."
     "Now you know the truth about me," I said to John.
     "Carolyn, this wasn't your fault."  His voice strained.
     I should have known better than to expect a man, even one
from another world, to have respect for a woman like me.  My sins
would follow me for all eternity.  "I'll go away so you won't have to
look at me again."
     "I like looking at you."  His voice was calmer now.
     "Then you forgive me?"
     "Forgive you for what?  Trusting someone too much?"
     "Frederick said I teased him.  Maybe you think I'm teasing
you, too.  After all, I am naked."
     "What is 'teasing'?  It isn't translating into anything I can
understand.  Explain it to me."
     "When a woman, well, when she promises a man...
Something that she doesn't give.  It's never with words.  She lets him
touch her and kiss her, and he thinks she's going to let him have
what he wants."  I had let John kiss me in the clearing, and I now sat
in front of him without decent covering.  Then again, whores didn't
need clothes.
     "I think I understand.  You don't have to worry about that
kind of nonsense with me.  My people do not 'make promises' when
they touch each other."  He laid his hands on my bare shoulders. 
"Please don't be afraid when I touch you."
     "John, I --"
     "You will probably feel more secure with some clothes on." 
He walked to the doorway.  "I will wait in the bedroom."

1987
     Several times during the next week, I tried to tell Judith
about my memories.  Every time my tongue would trip over the
words, and she would tell me that everything was all right.  She
would then hug me or kiss my cheek.  She didn't talk about our
encounter in the bathroom, which relieved some of my worry.  I
wasn't sure if I was capable of doing those things with her again. 
Her unquestioning acceptance of me as a lover made it even more
difficult to talk about John.
     Paul and Teri acted as if they didn't notice a change in my
interactions with Judith.  Each tended to his or her own business and
let us be.  I was grateful for their discretion.  The trio continued
their "fannish" activities, into which Judith tried to involve me.  I
didn't have the heart to tell her I had no interest.
     Instead, I spent my time watching leaves fall from the trees
in her back yard.  Only a few shrivelled brown leaves remained on
the branches.  I wondered if I would still be here when the leaves
returned in the spring.  Wednesday evening's chill and darkness
forced me back into the rec room.  Judith, Teri and Paul carried on
with their hobbies of sewing and painting.
     "I love to paint."  Teri dipped her brush in red paint and
dabbed it onto the canvas.  "I wish I could get better at it."
     That shapeless blob looked like nothing I had ever seen
before, so I withheld comment.
     "So, have you decided what you're going to do with yourself
yet?" she asked.  "You've already been here longer than anybody
else Judith ever brought home."
     "Yoo hoo, Girlies."  Paul stood up from his sewing machine. 
"Doncha think it's grand?"  He held up a blue and silver cape.
     "It's very pretty, Paul."
     "I think it'll make me look very regal."  He draped it on
himself.  "I'm supposed to, you know.  I'm going to do the Puppet
King in Xanadu's masquerade.  Problem is, the only people who will
get it are Rush fans."
     "Then why do it, Captain?"  Judith entered wearing a red top
and skirt that barely covered her breasts and hips.  Her legs were
encased in fish-net hose and high heeled boots that went up to her
thighs.  She held a fake dagger against her arm.  "I need to make a
holster for this."
     "You're not going to do 'Mirror, Mirror' again, are you?" 
Paul wrinkled his forehead.
     "I'm just going to wear it as a hall costume."  Judith tied a
gold sash around her hips and pat her bare stomach.  "I wonder how
much more tummy I can lose by Xanadu?"
     "I think a little bit of tummy looks good on a woman.  You
know, that would be a neat outfit if it wasn't from Star Trek.  God,
that was a dumb show."
     She tossed the dagger into a cardboard box filled with toy
weapons, mostly pistols.  "And this is coming from a Whovian."
     "Don't start that old argument again."  Teri cleaned her brush
with paint thinner.  "Do you think this is good enough to enter in the
art show?"
     "You've got too much green on that bad boy."  Judith
caressed my shoulders.  "Then there's the question of what we're
going to do for you."
     "I'll just wear my regular clothes."  Fortunately, Judith's old
clothes fit with only a little taking in and some hemming. I was glad
now that I had worn my corsets loosely, for a tightly trussed body
wouldn't fit at all in 20th century clothing.
     "Uh uh.  Too mundane.  Paul, do you think you can whip up
an appropriate costume and hairdo for my pal?"
     "I've been dying to get my hands on that hair!"  He sewed a
sequin onto his cape.  "But why can't you do the costume?"
     "Lack of time, Sweetheart.  I've got to pull O. T. next week
so I can go to the con.  I'd recommend something long and flowing
to go with that hair.  Don't tell me you want to cut it!"
     "I'd like to take it back to shoulder length and give her some
curl.  She'll be the belle of the ball by the time I'm through."
     "A woman's hair is her glory," I said.  "I'll keep it as it is."
     "Oh, come on!"  Paul winked.  "  A shorter style will be
much easier to care for --"
     "I said I don't want you to cut my hair!"  My cheeks flushed
with embarrassment.
     "Okay, okay.  Man, you women can be really bitchy
sometimes!"  He stuck his tongue out.
     Teri answered the phone while Judith and Paul exchanged
friendly insults.  Teri's tone changed from puzzled to friendly to
excited.  She bubbled with joy by the time she cradled the phone. 
Cheering, she jumped up and down.
     "What is it, Teri?"
     "They want to include two of my pieces in the display of
local painters at the Mall!"
     "That's great!"  Paul hugged her.  "Which ones?"
     "'The Road to Nowhere' and 'Judy's Ball Gown.'"
     "You didn't!"  Judith peered down at her.
     "It's a good painting," Paul said.  "I told her she should."
     Judith looked at herself in the mirror.  "I was so fat back
then...  But he's right, though.  It's one of your best pieces. 
Congratulations on the showing."
     "Thanks!"  Teri threw her arms around Judith, who ruffled
her hair.
     "Come on, kid.  Let's see if we can't add another masterpiece
to your portfolio."  Judith leaned over to study the blob on Teri's
canvas.
     Paul tapped my shoulder.  "Could we step into my bedroom
for a minute?  I'd like to take some measurements."
     He closed the bedroom door behind him.  His room held a
double bed, a night stand, knick-knack shelves, and a sculpture of a
nude woman in one corner.  Pictures on his walls were tasteful
paintings of landscapes and flowers.  He kept his room even more
neat than the rest of the house.  I stood still while he measured me. 
"You're a little thinner and a lot shorter than Judith, but still nicely
shaped...  All right, what's going on between you two?"
     "Sir?"  I looked up at him.
     "She's been hugging on you like she's in love."
     "What business is that of yours?"  I almost flushed with
embarrassment.
     "I never thought -- Just take it easy, okay?  Judith is still
trying to get over her ex."
     "I'd rather not talk about this."  I avoided his eyes.
     Paul spun me around to face him.  "Has it ever occurred to
you that there might be somebody else?"
     What I wanted to say was "Good! She'll stop pursuing me."
Instead, I asked, "Are you saying you're in love with Judith?  Have
you told her?"
     "It's not that easy."  He slumped onto the bed.  "I can't do
anything about it."
     "I don't understand."
     "I have...  A problem."
     "Perhaps if you told me about it, we might be able to solve
it."  I sat beside him.
     He laughed bitterly.  "God, woman I wonder about you
sometimes!  But if I don't tell you about my problem, then you'll go
ask Judith.  She'll want to know why I brought it up.  And I'll have
to tell her."  Tears filled his blue eyes.  "My ex-girlfriend tested
HIV-positive last year.  She's got AIDS."
     "Why does that affect you?"
     "Get real, Carolyn."
     My cheeks burned even hotter.  Apparently, abstinence was
no longer common.  Maybe they would go back to the old ways
now that they had this horrible plague to deal with. People on
television talked about this every day.  I shuddered at the thought of
Paul dying an awful, slow death.
     "You see," he continued, "I moved in with Judith about that
time with the intention of helping her get over her ex.  And maybe
eventually getting married.  Now, thanks to my fooling 
around, I can't pursue a relationship with her.  To be honest, I don't
think she can ever think of me as more than a friend."
     "You could still tell her how you feel," I said.
     "And make her feel guilty for finding somebody else?" He
shook his head. "Look, Carolyn, I had no right to jump on you. 
Judith needs someone a hell of a lot more than she'll admit. Just
don't hurt her."
     "If it'll help, you can talk to me whenever you feel... 
Overwhelmed."
     "I shouldn't be burdening you with this.  We hardly know
each other!"
     "I -- I'm not so sure I know myself sometimes."  What I was
saying?
     Paul frowned with puzzlement. "I thought Judith was jiving
me.  You mean you really don't know who you are?"
     Tears came to my eyes.  I needed to tell someone about
myself.  I had wanted it to be Judith, yet how could I tell her now? 
She'd be hurt if she knew my heart really belonged to another.  Yet,
I had no cause to put my burdens on Paul.  His problems made mine
small by comparison.
     "I didn't mean that."  I avoided his eyes.
     He sighed.  "Yeah.  And to quote our mutual love, that's
'pure B. S.'  Now, do you know who you are or not?"
     "I know my name.  As for everything else..."  I wanted to tell
him about the dreams and memories I'd been experiencing, especially
the ones about John.  Yet, where was he?  Even someone on foot
could have covered Knoxville in two weeks.  Was John only a
figment of my imagination?  I wasn't sure I wanted to know.
     "Paul, what would you do if you had memories of another --
another place, but you weren't sure if these memories were real."
     He stared at me for a long time before answering:  "I'd
wonder if I was losing my mind."