I thought again of my mother back home, laughing to herself. She and my father had been here not much more than a year ago, but just to pass through. My father had mentioned nothing negative. I wondered if he thought that warning me would seem like he was discouraging me from having anything to do with Garland Foxworth. From time to time, even he would admit that the way to get me to do something was to tell me not to do it, and vice versa.

“I got quite a nice ham cooked and made some of my bread. There’s collards I made with crispy bacon, sautéed onion, ham, and garlic. You probably don’t remember my collards. Oh, and we have some very nice potatoes, too. And then later, we’ll visit in the parlor and have some of my golden rod cake. Your great-aunt is quite fond of it, but I only make it for a special occasion.”

“Thank you, Hazel.”

“Sure, missy. You go on and unpack your things, and I’ll put up some hot water in case.” She squeezed my hand gently. “It’s so nice of you to think of us old folks. Most young folks don’t,” she said, and left me.

I stood there for a moment wondering if I would laugh or cry about what I had gotten myself into. When I opened the top drawer of the dresser, I jumped back. Even though they were harmless, two spiders harvesting ants and moths in their webs shocked me. I decided I would leave all my things in my bag. Gingerly, I peeled back the comforter and top sheet to see what might be living in the bed. There was nothing there now, but who knew what might be crawling in with me later?

Despite the clouds of dust I saw outside, I tried to open the window a little more, but it was quite stuck. Oh well, I thought, getting a comfortable sleep was not why I came here. I took out the clothes I thought I’d wear, now wondering if I would ever show my gala dress to my aunt. It would be a waste of time, I thought, and went down to take my bath. Hazel and my great-aunt were sitting in the living room. The instant Hazel saw me, she rose.

“Let’s see about the water,” she said, and led me to the bathroom.

I did remember the deep zinc slipper bathtub with the hand-painted marble on the exterior. My mother had given me a bath in it, and the image of it was stamped on a wall in my house of memories. Hazel ran some water and shook her head.

“Just as I feared,” she said. “Got to get George Thomas back to fiddle with the burner. I have two kettles cookin’.”

I felt a small panic. What if Garland came soon? He probably knew the train schedule between here and Alexandria and imagined I’d be here by now.