A Revolutionary Moment (Chapter three)

by Aimee in ...I don't know. HOLY CROW, I'M LOST!!!!!!!!!

A/N: Sorry it took so long, I've been caught up lately.

Chapter Three:

            Aimee awoke a few hours later. She heard Mary calling for her to come down for dinner.

            “I’ll be there in a minute,” Aimee called back.

            She looked to her right. Out her window it was dark, but not the midnight ebony of late night. There was a bluish tint to the darkness and just a few stars were beginning to decorate the evening sky. Though she couldn’t see it she could hear that the town square was empty.

            She scurried out of bed as to not concern Mary again by taking long. She quickly slipped on the dress she had worn earlier that day but didn’t bother with the corset.

She shuffled over to her table that held the mirror and brush and began pulling the brush through her hair.  When she thought she looked organized again she picked up the mirror.

She didn’t know what to expect. Considering everything that had changed she could’ve been a brown eyed blonde. But this surprised her more.

            She had been sure she must look different, but looking in the mirror now she found the same deep grey-teal eyes staring out at her.

            She still had the pale but not unnatural looking beige skin, speckled with literally a hundred freckles covering her cheek bones.

            Her hair was the same dark mahogany that was straight only when it was just brushed but as the day progressed looked more and more wavy, each individual lock curling a different way than the others like octopus legs.

            Satisfied with her appearance she stood and again found another pleasant surprise. She still seemed to be the very tall five foot eight inch girl she had been back at home.

Home, she thought wearily. I wonder how long this will go on…she mused, but then quickly remembered she was expected for dinner.

            She hurried downstairs and found Mary sitting across from the man in the painting. This must be Randall, she thought as she took her seat –the only one that was unoccupied.

            Mary began passing around the plates to serve the food. Dinner was very quiet. The only sound was the scraping of forks and knives as they cut through the juicy meat. Aimee wasn’t sure what it was, but looking out the window she saw the remains of a hog. So that’s where her “father” had been, hunting.

            “Eat quickly. We are scheduled to meet with the Johnson’s family for tea after dinner and don’t wish to be late,” Mary said suddenly.

            “Who are the Johnson’s?” Aimee wondered aloud.

            “Bill, Molly, Mildred, and Claire. Why don’t you remember? You and Claire have been friends since you were five years old! And Mildred is her older sister!” Mary explained perplexed.  

            “I don’t know,” muttered Aimee. Truly she knew it must be Claire. Though they had met when they were four she still knew it was her, and was secretly glad. “Must’ve slipped my mind,” she finished, trying to hide her joy.

            Though she somewhat concisely knew Claire had come back to the past with her, she was relieved it would be this easy to find her. Now she just needed to find Abby and Trevor.

            The rest of dinner remained in awkward silence. When the family had finished they all headed over the Johnson’s house in a horse drawn carriage.

When they had reached the house on their slow carriage Randall climbed out first and helped Mary out, and then Aimee. They walked up to the door, Aimee trailing a few feet behind the others. Randall reached out and knocked on the door stiffly. After a few moments of silence, Aimee heard a shuffling, the unlocking of the door and then it swung open. A short, petite woman with blonde hair stood before them, wearing a dress similar to the style of Mary and Aimee’s, but with deep plum coloring. Behind her stood a man about three or four inches taller than Aimee wearing a long dress coat with another one of those strange pocket watches in his breast pocket.  

            “Welcome! We’re so glad you could make it!” greeted the man, Bill.

            “Yes, please come in! Aimee, Claire is in her room if you wish to accompany her,” supplied the woman, Molly, gesturing with her hand down the hall behind her.  

            “Thank you,” replied Aimee. Molly merely smiled.

Aimee followed in the direction she had pointed her in, going down a yellow hallway with a single wooden carved table at the end with an elegantly painted vase holding a dozen roses. There was one room to the left in the middle of the hall, and another to her right.

            Aimee wasn’t sure which one was Claire’s so she hesitantly knocked on the one to her right.

            “What?” snapped a quiet voice that, despite barely being able to hear it, was as sharp as knives.

            “Sorry,” replied Aimee and immediately turned to the door to her left and gave it another timid knock.

            “Yes?” answered  a quiet voice that was a perfect mimic of Claire’s.

            Flooding with relief, Aimee opened the door to find Claire sitting on her bed with red rimmed teary eyes.