“You have holes in your ears!” Lizzie cried, her voice equal parts awe and horror.
“So?” Maggie raised her eyebrows, laughing at the shock on the little girl’s face.
“Nobody has their ears pierced! Irene told me only girls who aren’t very nice pierce their ears.”
Maggie didn’t know what to say. She stared at Lizzie for a moment, wondering if that were true of everyone in the fifties or just the Honeycutts.
“No one wears earrings?”
“Girls wear earrings. See?” Lizzie grabbed a ornate jewelry box sitting atop the vanity table and riffled through it, pulling out two glittering bobs with screw like attachments on the back. She stared at the little loops in Maggie’s ears, as if they were spiders hanging from her lobes.
“How do you get them off?” she whispered, poking at one of the loops.
Maggie popped the earrings out of one ear and then the other, showing Lizzie it wasn’t that big of a deal.
“How do you put those on?” Maggie nodded toward the bobbles in Lizzie’s palm. Lizzie eyed the holes in Maggie’s now bare ears, her face wrinkled in revulsion.
“Good grief, Lizzie!” Maggie chuckled. “Where I come from, everyone has their ears pierced, and sometimes their lips and eyebrows too!
Lizzie backed away, horrified. Maggie could see that Lizzie was a little afraid of her now. Time to change the subject.
“Let me try these. Can’t be too hard, can it?” Maggie stood and took the earrings from Lizzie’s palm, giving Lizzie a comforting pat on her back before she moved away.
“Turn the back until it screws in tight,” Lizzie supplied helpfully, her eyes never leaving Maggie’s earlobes. Maggie sighed and shook her head. Ghosts and time travel didn’t seem to bother the girl, but pierced ears had almost sent her over the edge. The earrings weren’t very comfortable, and Maggie could see why women had eventually given in and put holes in their ears.
It seemed that Irene had more than enough make-up to spare, and Lizzie had spent a fair amount of time watching her big sister apply it. She showed Maggie how to wet the little brush and rub it across the black rectangular pan of mascara to coat it before combing it through her lashes. She then talked her through applying the foundation and powder “just the way Irene does, using the middle fingers only.”
When they pulled out the curlers, though, Lizzie was horrified by the long drooping waves and curls. Maggie thought it looked kind of pretty, though, kind of like a movie star from the 1930s or ‘40s. She parted it on the left side and let the right side play peekaboo with her lined and mascaraed blue eyes. She thought she looked kind of sexy. Lizzie just sighed and let her shoulders droop dejectedly. Maggie was pretty sure Lizzie thought she had blown it before she even set foot at the prom. Hopefully Johnny would think differently.
The wrinkles in the red dress had all but disappeared, and Maggie slipped it on over the half slip, the nylons and the garter belt (gasp!), and the strapless bra Lizzie had pilfered from Irene’s drawer. The slip kept the net skirt from irritating her legs, and Maggie wondered why slips had ever gone out of style. She’d never worn a slip or hose. The garter belt dug into her skin, and the nylons were torturous, but they weren’t so different from dance tights, so she endured them. The bullet shape of the bra still embarrassed her, but she had to give it props. The girls never looked better...or more deadly.
Lizzie tried to douse Maggie in Irene’s perfume, but Maggie declined. If she got close enough to Johnny tonight for him to smell her perfume, she didn’t want him to think of Irene. Instead, she dabbed the spot behind her ears, the inner crease at her elbows, and the barely visible valley between her breasts with a little rose water that Lizzie had been given for Christmas and never used.
When she was ready, she twirled for Lizzie and picked up the little silver purse that had still been wrapped around her wrist when she had awakened to find herself in a time long since past.
“You’re so pretty....even with that old-fashioned hairstyle,” Lizzie sighed, her smile slightly dreamy. “I wish I could come.” Lizzie sat up suddenly. “Maggie? How are you going to get there?”
Maggie had thought of that already. She would walk, of course. It was only three blocks down and three blocks over. She would be fine and told Lizzie as much.
“You can’t walk!” Lizzie said, horror-stricken. “You can take Nana’s car. She’ll never know.”
“I can’t take her car!” Maggie gasped, equally horrified. “What if she discovers it’s gone and calls the police, and I get thrown in the slammer and have to try to explain who I am and where I came from.”
“Let me take care of Nana!” Lizzie resisted the notion that Mary Smith would ever discover her car had been absconded by a teenager from the future, posing as her young charge’s cousin.
“I will walk, Lizzie.”
“Maggie!” Lizzie got all watery-eyed and serious immediately. “You can’t walk in the dark, at night, completely alone.”
Maggie tried to brush Lizzie’s worries aside. “See these red shoes? I’ll just click my heels three times and wish myself home.” She thought Lizzie would laugh. But Lizzie just shook her head soberly.
“If you disappear, no one will ever know what happened to you. No one here will even know to look for you! And I will worry about you.....forever.”
Maggie had no response, and Lizzie knew she’d won.
“I will get the keys and distract Nana. She always watches Perry Mason on Saturdays. I think she’s in love with him. After that it’s Lawrence Welk. When Daddy’s gone, she doesn’t budge from the couch all night long. I’ll go down and tell her your mother is coming to pick you up, and then I’ll sit with her and whine about wanting to watch Dick Clark, and I’ll make sure the television is plenty loud. Go out to the garage, start the car, and before you go, give a loud toot on the horn. I’ll run and call up the stairs that your mother is here and then talk for a moment like I’m saying goodbye. Then I will walk to the front door and open it. When I shut it, wait a few seconds, and drive away. She’ll be fast asleep when you get back, but there is a key under the rocking chair on the porch just in case I fall asleep too, all right?”
“How old are you, Lizzie?” Maggie had to laugh at the devious mind of her young maternal grandmother. She had a sneaking suspicion she had inherited it. She gave the girl a fierce hug and suddenly felt close to tears.
“Lizzie, I don’t know when or if all of this will end. If I don’t come back tonight, then you’ll know why, okay?”
“But I need to know what happens. I want to know if Johnny falls in love with you!”
“Well, I guess you’ll just have to ask Johnny,” Maggie winked, and Lizzie huffed, folding her arms.
“I will, you know!” Lizzie grinned impishly. Then she turned and ran out of the room. In seconds she was back with the key to Nana’s car. She threw herself at Maggie, hugging her around her waist, and then without a word ran down the stairs again. Maggie took a deep breath and descended the stairs just enough to hear what was going on below. Sure enough, Lizzie commenced whining, and Mary Smith commenced sighing. Then the volume on the television was turned up, and Maggie sneaked the rest of the way down the stairs and out of the house.
She raced to the garage and found Nana’s car parked in its stall. Very little had changed in the unattached building in fifty years. It even smelled the same. Maggie felt a sudden tugging, as if the smell of home had telegraphed a message to some far-off time and place and received an immediate response. Breathing through her mouth, she heaved the garage door upward, wincing as it refused to ascend quietly. She jumped behind the wheel and shoved the key into the ignition. Without turning on the lights, she backed out of the garage and halfway down the drive. Then she laid on the horn, causing her heart to bounce erratically, as if trying to escape its bony confines. She laid a hand across her chest, soothing it as she searched for the headlights. There they were; the beams hit the windows on the front of the house, and twenty seconds l
ater the door swung open and then shut again almost immediately. Maggie counted slowly to ten and then backed out of the drive.
She didn’t see the door open and Mary Smith rush out into the front yard seconds after she had pulled away.
~12~
A Time to Dance
The dance was already in full swing when she arrived. Maggie saw only one couple walking along the sidewalk towards the entrance of the school gymnasium. When she slid into an empty spot and turned off the engine, she could hear music pouring from the building. Fear and adrenaline shot through her in equal measures. What was she thinking going to a prom all by herself? What would she do once she got inside? Maggie considered turning the car around and high tailing it back to the relative familiarity of home, even though it wasn’t currently her home.
And then Johnny’s face appeared in her mind’s eye. Johnny. He was inside, and she couldn’t wait to see him. She checked her lipstick and bared her teeth in the rear view mirror, making sure none of the bold red had found its way onto a tooth. All clear. With a fortifying inhale, she stepped from the car and placed the key just under the gas pedal. She wasn’t too worried. No one stole cars in Honeyville, certainly not in 1958.
The sidewalk leading up to the entrance was lined with lanterns and a thick red carpet, the kind that brought to mind movie premiers and Hollywood starlets. At the entrance to the gymnasium was a huge pirate’s chest, spilling out all manner of treasures; golden goblets and plastic gold coins, beads and baubles littered the ground around the base of the trunk. Maggie peered through the open door and slowly walked into the highly decorated hall. The entrance had been made to look like a sunken ship, and for a moment she could not see the people beyond its gaping hull. Then she was inside, silhouetted in the doorway, staring out at the swirling dresses in a myriad of pastel shades; ruffles and sparkles and white sports coats were everywhere. She looked down at her own dress and back at the dresses of the girls being escorted to and from the dance floor. She stood out like a sore thumb.
She caught a few curious glances and felt the same fear that had gripped her in the car. And then she saw him. He was on the other side of the room, but her position on the gang plank elevated her enough to see him clearly. He had stopped and was staring at her, and then he was moving, not breaking eye contact, coming toward her. She watched him make his way through the milling crowd, until he stopped several feet in front of her. Her fear faded like yesterday’s daylight, and the heat of his gaze sputtered and sparked something deep within her belly. She smiled at him.
Johnny smiled back. It was a slow, curving smile that lifted the corners of his well-shaped lips and marked his lean cheeks with deep grooves on either side of his mouth. For a minute, the world righted itself, and Maggie had the distinct sensation of time stopping, adjusting its track, and beginning again. The moment was so ripe with possibility, the flavor of forever so sweet upon her senses, that it was all Maggie could do to not walk right into Johnny’s arms and lay her smiling lips on his, sealing him to her for eternity.
Instead she said, “Are you going to ask me to dance?” Her voice was amazingly steady, as if she traveled through time to dance with her lover on a regular basis.
Johnny held out his hand, and she closed the distance between them. She took it without hesitation, the contact making her catch her breath in wonder, and she knew he felt it too. He seemed to hesitate when they reached the dance floor, as if the song that had begun was not his preference. Oh, but it was hers. She had been waiting so long to dance with him again. Her skin was on fire, the music sending flames licking their way down her body. He looked down at her, and his eyes held a question. She raised her chin, urging him forward, and that was all it took. She was swinging in and out of his arms, flying in time with the drummer who knew his craft. She knew Johnny’s body, the way he moved, the way he danced, and she reveled in the knowledge, matching him step for step and throwing herself into every move he asked of her.
People gathered around them, but her eyes were locked on him, and she didn’t want to look away. The song ended and they were surrounded by applause, and someone hollered out, “I taught Johnny everything he knows.”
Johnny seemed to recognize the voice and shook his head, laughing as he pulled her into his arms, wrapping his arms around her waist. She lifted her arms and settled them on his shoulders, a sloppy imitation of an embrace. The Bell Tones crooned out in harmony, and the couples around them turned away to dance or leave the floor. Johnny looked down into Maggie’s face, and his arms tightened, pulling her closer.
His eyes were on her mouth, and Maggie lifted her chin, inviting him, and her eyes slid closed.
“Johnny,” she whispered, and he froze above her.
“You know my name?”
Maggie nodded slowly, realizing her error. “Yes...I do.”
“Should I know yours?” Johnny wasn’t flirting. His brow was furrowed as if something niggled at him, as if somehow he had missed something vitally important, and had just realized it.
“No.....would you like to know mine?” Maggie was flirting, and she smiled a little to make the cheesy pick-up line a little less cheesy.
“I would very much like to know yours.” Johnny’s brow furrowed again, as if he wasn’t used to playing the anxious admirer.
“My name is Maggie.”
“Maggie....That’s right,” Johnny said, and then looked surprised. “Are you sure we haven’t met?”
“Now that you mention it....I’m not so sure....I feel like I’ve known you for a long time.” Maggie meant to continue the playful exchange, but her words rang too true, and she felt a sudden rise of nostalgia engulf her and her eyes sting with emotion.
Johnny had stopped dancing, and Maggie’s arms dropped to her sides. His hands found hers, and the music whirled around them. “Earth Angel, Earth Angel...” The song echoed as if it came from somewhere far off, and Maggie gripped Johnny’s hands, willing time to let her be.
Suddenly, from around them shouts rose up, and the singer at the mic was rather rudely pushed aside. The band ceased playing and a dull roar rose up from the dance floor. Johnny tore his gaze from hers, and together they turned toward the bandstand.
A skinny man in an ill-fitting brown suit and thick black-rimmed spectacles stood testing the mic as if it hadn’t just been used to serenade the people now staring up at it. The band’s front man was looking at the interloper like he wouldn’t mind shoving him off the stage. The man in the brown suit reminded Maggie of her chemistry teacher, Mr. Marshall, and she instantly disliked him. He was clearly the principal and seemed to relish the opportunity to hear his voice echo around the room A policeman stood next to him, his arms akimbo, his stance wide, his face....familiar. Maggie wrinkled her nose in confusion. She knew him....
The answer came almost instantly, and Maggie almost jumped up and down in excitement. It was Clark Bailey -- Chief Bailey, she supposed she should call him. He was handsome in the way men are when they are solid and trustworthy. His shoulders were broad, and his big frame was well-proportioned and trim. Though his face was serious, his manner conveyed calm, and his tone was mild as he took over at the microphone.
“Students, we want to let you get back to the dance right away. We just need some information, and we would appreciate your cooperation.” The man looked out across the upturned faces and waited for the excited chatter to cease.
“We got a report earlier tonight of a stolen car. We found that car here at the school just a few minutes ago, parked out in the back parking lot.” Voices rose in question and wonder and Maggie felt her lungs seize and her breath hiss out in dismay. Johnny glanced down at her, his eyebrows raised in question. Maggie looked away, her mind racing to find a way out of the disaster that was hurtling toward her.
Chief Bailey continued. “The doors were unlocked, and we’ve recovered the key. No harm done. But we still need to know who is responsible.”
Maggie moaned in abject horror and then bit her lip t
o keep more from escaping. Johnny was staring at her in wonder, and a small smile was playing around his mouth. He leaned in until his lips touched her ear, and in spite of her fear, she shivered at the brief caress.
“Why, Maggie....are you a car thief?”
Maggie shook her head adamantly, her blue eyes wide and beseeching. “It’s not what you think,” she mouthed, her voice so low only he could possibly hear.
“Maybe there’s a reward for the apprehension of the little thief,” he mouthed back, one eyebrow quirked. Maggie’s eyes widened even further.
“Please help me get out of here, Johnny.” Maggie gripped his hand and turned into him, her lips barely moving, her eyes trained on the officers now stationing themselves at every exit. “I promise I’ll tell you everything. I’m really not a bad girl.”
Johnny’s eyes twinkled, and his lips twisted wryly. “Yeah, I was afraid of that.” He gripped her arm and led her to where a tall blond kid stood with a glass of punch, hanging on every word spoken by the girl who swayed in front of him, her skirts swishing to and fro as she looked at him coyly from beneath her lashes. Peggy Wilkey was a very attractive girl, and Maggie held back a little, suddenly remembering that Peggy was Johnny’s date for the evening.
Johnny leaned toward Carter, sliding an arm around his shoulder as he conveyed something neither Maggie nor Peggy could hear. Carter wasn’t as discreet.
“Oh man, Johnny! You didn’t! I shoulda known you had somethin’ to do with it!” Carter groaned and then threw his head back and laughed. Johnny just shook his head indulgently and smacked Carter in the center of his forehead, stopping him mid-chortle.
“I need you to get Peggy home. Can you do that, Slick?” Johnny turned to Peggy and gave her a kiss on her cheek. “Carter will take good care of you, Peg. It looks like I’ve run into a little trouble, and with your daddy being who he is, I think it’d be better if I got out of here. Thanks for coming with me tonight; you look beautiful.”
Peggy looked from Johnny to Maggie, and there was a fleeting wistfulness in her gaze. It disappeared when Carter raised his glass of punch and said happily, “I’m taking Peggy Wilkey home! Thank you, Jesus!” Everyone within earshot started to laugh, and Peggy blushed prettily, her attention now riveted on the boy who was so obviously smitten by her.