Present Drifter

Chapter 4

My heart races as he stares at me from across the room, his lips turned upward in a proud grin. His face glows from the sunlight seeping into the room from the window. He stands tall with his hands gently folded in front of him.

The unfamiliar room around me starts to gently spin as the situation I'm in begins to settle. I feel myself stumble forward over my own feet. Quickly, I catch myself from falling completely but that doesn't stop everyone's attention from getting directed to me. I feel my mom's hand fly up to my back to help steady me.

"Are you alright dear?" She questions, concerned with my sudden loss of stability.

"Yes, my apologies. I just feel a little sick." I reassure, shocked at my use of old English.

Daxon's grin has fallen as he now looks at me with slightly furrowed eyebrows and the gentlest head tilt. His eyes have become almost empty as he looks at me with worry.

"Why don't you sit down," Daxon says while motioning towards one of the chairs placed in front of his coffee table. "James, will you get her a glass of water?" He asks, turning towards the butler. James gives a simple nod before leaving the room.

My mother gently pushes me in the direction of the chair that I fall into with a lack of grace that probably isn't acceptable here. I feel myself sink comfortable into the plush fabric behind me. My mom sits in the chair next to me, gently placing her hand on my arm for comfort. Daxon moves to sit in the chair on my other side but, unlike my mother and I, he sits up straight.

James comes back a moment later and places a small glass of water in front of me on the coffee table. It rests atop one of the many scattered newspapers and that's when something catches my eye. My gaze jumps around the table verifying what I've found.

On every single newspaper that lays in front of me, has a date with the year 1892 in it. I try not to let my eyes widen but I still feel myself shrink back a little in shock.

It's 1892. I'm in 1892.

I've somehow traveled back in time. To 1892.

Why would someone want to come here? What even happened in 1892? Was the U.S. even a thing yet? That's a dumb question. Yes, it was. But still, how the hell did I get here.

I feel Daxon's eyes peering into the side of my head as I sit here in confusion. Trying to be casual, I slowly turn to look at him and give him a small smile. I feel my eyes twitch though and I can tell from his slightly raised eyebrows that he can tell that I'm nervous. His lips twitch upwards as if he wants to laugh.

"Mrs. Roberts, would it be alright if I took Florence for a walk through my fields?" Daxon asks, or, as I am reminded by the mention of my own different name, William.

"Oh please, call me Mary, and I'm sure she would enjoy that," my mom answers, turning to look at me with one of those crooked smiles and a glance towards William commanding me to acknowledge him. I comply, and give him a small nod in agreement with my mother.

"You must call me William then," he responds, counteracting my moms demand. "I'll have James bring you out some tea while you wait for our return."

My mother smiles at him as he stands up from his seat on the couch. Slowly, I do the same and follow him into the next room, which happens to be a small kitchen. There's a couple of tables and a small stove and that's almost all that fills the room other than a cabinet. On the back door is a set of double doors that lead out back.

"James, will you make Mrs. Roberts a cup of tea. Ella and I will be back momentarily." William says before moving towards the back door. He doesn't even wait for James' response but from the sound of banging pots, I know he followed order.