PART 2 OF A SERIES: Lily Kate Monroe and her brother David reside in one of Waco’s oldest houses. Filled with reminders of fascinating family history, it is also the setting of an intriguing puzzle and a mysterious watch.

The door creaked. Someone moved into her bedroom. Lily Kate Monroe peered through the slits of her squinted eyes and held her breath. It must be early morning. She waited for the person to move into view. It was the servant girl from her dream — Tildy. She remained in 1861.

She was still dreaming. Or was she? Lily groaned and sat up.

“Miss Lillian, you feeling any better today?” Tildy moved from window to window opening the shutters to allow the bright morning sunlight to flood the dim room. “You ready for breakfast?”

Lily’s head started to swim again, and she shaded her eyes, lying back on the pillow. “I ... yes ... I mean, no ... I mean ... oh, I don’t know what I mean.” She sat up and swung her feet over the side of the bed, shoving them into a pair of slippers Tildy had placed beside the bed.

What she wouldn’t give for a cup of Starbucks. “I need to see David.”

Tildy paused in her fussing with the bedcovers. “He’s gone, Miss Lillian. He didn’t want to disturb you since you weren’t feelin’ well. Parade’s at 10 o’clock downtown. He said he’ll see you there.”

Lily stood at the side of the road and watched the replica of the static sepia photos she had seen in her history textbooks of the Lone Star Guard. The soldiers marched by in full color, the pounding rhythm stirring up circles of dust around their booted feet. Young men, some as young as 16, were hopeful and eager for their quick, sure victory. She shook her head as they tramped in front of the cheering town citizens. Holding a handkerchief to her eyes, she blotted the tears that refused to stop. After the rousing formalities she clung to David, who continued to assure her that he would be fine. And then he marched away with his company — head held high, brandishing his weapon, the embodiment of manhood and patriotic pride.

The black driver pulled the buggy up in front of the house and assisted her exit from the quaint vehicle. She stared at the slave and wondered what his name was. “Thank you.”

“Yes’m.”

When is this nightmare going to end? I must be losing my mind.

Flinging the wide-brimmed hat that Tildy had insisted she wear on the bed, she grabbed the album and went to her mother’s room. She hefted open the lid of the trunk and tossed the book on top of dresses and crinolines. Lily started to search through the garments — for what, she didn’t know — something, anything that could give her a clue. The album fell to the floor and landed at her feet.

Beep, beep, beep, beep. Huh? The microwave?

Jumping to her feet and stumbling over her hooped petticoat, she ran to the kitchen.

David stood at the sink holding his hand under the running water. Without looking up at her, he asked, “Do you know where the bandages are?”

“D—David?”

He turned toward her, his shirtsleeves pushed up, exposing his tattoos. “Who else were you expecting? Whoa! Where did you find that get-up?”

Lily looked down at the voluminous skirt of the day dress Tildy had helped her don only hours ago. She wiggled her foot clad with the front-laced Balmoral boots. Sitting down at the kitchen table, she buried her head in her hands.

“What’s wrong, Sis? Are you OK?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think so. You’d better sit down. You’re not gonna believe this.”

She took a deep breath. “I ... I just traveled through time to 1861.”

David sat across from her and stared. “Sure you did.”

“Believe me, I know how weird this sounds. But you were there too, with your injured hand. You were marching off to the Civil War with the Lone Star Guard, and I was helpless to stop you.” Tears pooled in her eyes. “I tried to explain the lost cause of the South to you and you wouldn’t listen.” She shook her head. “You ... you were marching to your death, and you wouldn’t listen to me.”

David patted her hand. “Hey, you’re really upset, aren’t you?” He stood. “Look at me. I’m fine. Nothing’s happened to me.”

“Hear what I’m saying. I really was in 1861.”

“Be reasonable, Sis. You put on a dress you found in that trunk and imagined all of this. Or you fell asleep and dreamed it.”

“No, I put the dress on in 1861. The pages of the book were blank.” Lily grabbed her brother’s hand and pulled him out of his chair. “Come with me. I’ll show you.”

Dragging him through the dining room and across the hall into their mother’s bedroom, she pointed to the album that lay beside the open trunk. She picked it up and opened it, afraid of what she would see — printed pages.

Slamming the book shut, she shuddered. “They’re not blank anymore, but I don’t want to look at them right now. I was looking at this when I ... oh, I don’t know what happened to me. I just know I was really there, and it was awful knowing what was going to happen — helpless to save you or anyone else.”

David laughed at her and looked at his watch. “Gotta go. The band has a gig tonight. Won’t be back until after midnight.” He shoved his hands in his pockets. “Will you be OK?”

“I’ll be fine. I need to get out of these clothes. But I’m telling you, David, it was real.”

David waved at her as he left the room. “Yeah, whatever. See ya later.”

Lily returned to her mother’s bedroom and struggled to get the dress unbuttoned. Now I know why they had servants, she thought. This is impossible. She put on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt and folded the dress and crinolines carefully. Wondering what else she might find in the trunk, she dug down through the garments and felt along the sides and bottom of the trunk. She noticed a bulge.

Something was stitched into the cloth lining of the trunk. That was not there in 1861. She shook her head and pulled on it. The thin, fragile cloth ripped, and a small package wrapped in soft blue fabric, along with a folded piece of paper, fell into her hand. She opened the brittle paper. In faded ink written in beautiful script:

This simple gift

Beloved, mine,

Will mark the days,

Measure the time.

Our love, forbidden,

Will one day be free.

Wait for me, Beloved,

I wait for thee.

The package was heavy. She turned back the delicate folds of the package and an ornate gold woman’s pendant watch on a long gold braided chain lay in her hands.

Watch ... watch! Was this what her mother was talking about? A timepiece? She turned it over in her hand. It didn’t look like an 1861 timepiece to her — more like the turn of the century. Clicking it open, she read the engraved message on the inside. “I wait for thee.”

Golden Keyes Parsons has written four novels for Thomas Nelson Publishing, three of which were set during the reign of French King Louis XIV. This is the second article in a 12-part historical fiction series scheduled to appear in Waco Today.

Catch up wih past installments of A Watch in Time at wacotrib.com/wacotoday.

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