Chapter 32

I have one thing to say here. There is nothing like seeing someone, especially the mother of the girl you love, the first time. It's not that 'First Impressions' last forever but they do lock in the most important moments and set the tone for the foundation of a relationship.

There are two extremes for initial impressions: Nausea and Euphoria. One you hope for and the other you dread. Anticipation of that first view, flip-flops your insides, like you're on an amusement ride going up-and-down ... twist-around ... upside-down, time and time again.

The old adage says, 'You can't tell a book by its cover.', but it's the first impression that sets the pace. It can be a footnote, which is soon forgotten, or an influential preface long remembered.

It's all in the anticipation. That's exactly how I felt as Morgan and I began the search. Or more specifically, right after we landed in my bedroom back in 2014 during our escape from the suite in the 1930's, Prince Hotel. Bag and baggage, well in hand.

I loved Morgan with all my heart. For all intents and purposes, she was thirteen and on the cusp of her journey toward being an adult. Days, a week or two, at the most a month and her body would blossom. When I met her she was a grownup child. A contradiction in girl's clothing. A child, but yet a woman.

I felt if I blinked, and turned around three times, before me would be the woman I longed for, morphed from the girl I loved. So, meeting her parents gave a roller coaster ride from the doubts to desires I was feeling for Morgan. If only things could be sped up for her but that was something I couldn't use my ability to do. I didn't work that way.

Life must be lived by the second, one after the other. That's the only way to perform the passage through time. Shifting through time may be easy for me but the usual rites of passage for a life have to be lived.

I know Morgan loved her mother and father. She had no desire to escape from them. She wanted to bring them with her as we chose not only the places to live but the time when we were to spend our days.

Morgan was anxious. She began to rattle on wondering how she was going to convince her parents to move with us to 1850. Would they like our house? Could they live without electricity? Running water?

"For that fact," she said, "Could they live without indoor plumbing?"

I tried to allay her fears and apprehension. Then I figured the best thing to do was for us to go to 1850 and see how the preparations had gone on in what was to be our house. When she agreed it was a good idea, we were on our way.

We arrived, just after sunrise two weeks after we'd left. I aimed it so we'd get there before any workmen would have arrived but with safety in mind, chose to settle in with a Buzz Shift just in case someone might be there. I selected the kitchen. Morgan gasped as the room faded-in.

I kept the buzz going for a couple of seconds, listening for any indication we weren't alone. Her first words as the buzzing stopped was a bubbling over, "I love it!"

Tenement kitchens and bathrooms of the 1930's were filled with the classic inch hexagonal or square black and white ceramic tiles. They were everywhere from the floors and lower parts of walls like Wainscoting to back-splashes above kitchen counters.

Morgan had gasped because the kitchen looked marvelous. From the top down, it was exquisite. A very light pastel blue covered the ceiling and was met at the walls with light colored wallpaper with pastel swirls of yellow, violet and blue.

The cabinets had been painted in a pastel yellow gloss paint matching the swirl in the wallpaper. Plus, the counter had been wrapped in oilcloth of the same yellow pastel. The sink had the usual 1850's small hand water pump but was a new, shiny brass model. Surprisingly, there was also a water spigot at the rear of the sink.

There was only one so I figured it was cold water only, and when I twisted the enameled star shaped handle on there was running water. How that was accomplished was a surprise.

But bigger, bolder and took the breath from me was the centerpiece of the kitchen. A brand new, bright red, gas stove. It was head high with a warming cabinet above the six gas burners spread over its top. Below were two ovens, one large and the other small. It all stood off the floor on shiny, silver plated legs. A wonderful surprise!

Now mind you. We were ten or so miles from the edge of Dyersburg. It was a modern city by 1850 standards. In town the streets were lit with gas lights and homes had all types of appliances like gas stoves and lighting. Here in what could be characterized as 'The Sticks', it would be many years before a gas main would be extended out as far as our property. If ever at all.

That was a mystery to me. How was gas going to be a reality I thought. My father had said he had a surprise for me. This was some surprise. How he had accomplished that feat was something I wanted to find out.

While I was curious about the gas stove, Morgan was thrilled. I knew Jim and Lilly had to be jealous.

The eggshell, soft white Wainscot panels and the light red, almost pink oilcloth floor covering, completed the pleasant harmony of colors in the kitchen. I will admit that the kitchen in this old house was thankfully oversized. Two women were going to be working in it. And there was room for more, if need be.

"I love it," said Morgan, "Mom will love it. Dad will love it.

"I don't know how they have done all of this but I love it."

I had to echo the same thing, adding I was sure my mom would love it too. Of course, I was concentrating on the stove. There was a secret there and if we had that here in our house, I wanted the same thing in the two houses which were under construction.

But there were other fish to fry. Right off, Morgan wanted to walk the hallway leading back to the three bedrooms. The theme of the kitchen flowed the length of the hallway. Off white Wainscoting, wallpapered walls and pastel blue, the color of the sky, flowed across the ceiling.

Each of the bedrooms had its own color scheme. The master bedroom was a violet pastel. The other two were, Robin's Egg Blue and a pastel, soft pink. They were under construction, but nearly finished.

The Wainscoting was working its way around the bedrooms and curtains and drapes were yet to be installed. For the most part though, I felt with a couple of days to finish the little details and move in furniture, the house would be ready in no more than a weeks time.

"I know you're anxious," I told Morgan. "Before we go and get your parents, I want to stop back in 2014 and talk to my father about all this. Plus, let him know in a week's time we'll be bringing your parents here."

"That's wonderful," she said as she almost hummed showing her anticipation. "Mom and dad will love it here," she said as we walked back into the kitchen.

Sometimes, timing is everything. I laughed to myself as we shifted back to 2014. I'd heard a key rattle in the back door's lock. As the doorknob twisted in preparation for someone opening the door, 1850 faded-out and we faded into the exam room in my parents office.

In seconds, my dad strolled in. "Thought I'd see you today," he said. "Sort of figured you'd check out the house at One Pine."

"I love it," chirped Morgan. "My parents will love it too.

"Thank you so much."

Even before I asked, dad was right there saying, "You can take them there this coming Saturday. It should be fine."

"And the stove?" I asked.

His laugh was classic. "So I cheated a bit. I told everyone I was setting up a Gas Manufacturing Plant. You'll see it off away from the houses and has a large collection tank."

"But it doesn't work?" I asked.

"No," he told me, "It's just a ruse.