1 One Fine October Evening

Irving, Poe, Whitman, Emerson. Emerson, Irving, Poe, Whitman. Caroline silently noted each author to herself as she carefully arranged the books back into alphabetical order on the shelf. Shelving books was considered one of the least desirable tasks by most of the library volunteers, but Caroline didn't always mind it. There was something almost cleansing about being able to spend an hour or two thinking of nothing but letters and the order someone long ago had decided they ought to come in.

She traced a finger across the indented spine of The Scarlet Letter. This of course, was the only hard part about shelving books. She was constantly coming across old favorites or new discoveries that she longed to drop everything and devour. With one last longing glance she filed Hawthorne next to Hardy and reached for the next title in her stack.

Caroline pushed apart the books that had taken to leaning on each other in order to make room for more in between. As she did so, she noticed through the empty hole in the shelf another young lady on the far side of the library. She was sitting on one of the many plush sofas with her legs pulled up to her chest and her gently curled hair cascading around her figure like a fiery sunrise. She looked like a painting that belonged in some far off museum. A moment frozen in time, locked within an unmoving canvas and sealed with delicate brushstrokes. She was completely immersed in the paperback that she cradled in her arms as if it were her own child. Caroline longed to ask her what she was reading that had put her into such an ethereal trance.

Then, as if she had sensed Caroline's thoughts or felt her eyes on her, the trance broke and the lady looked up. Caroline, suddenly aware of how long she had been staring, quickly replaced the books, closing the window between them. The orange glow that had begun to envelop downtown and was now creeping in to flood the library atrium meant that she was due home any minute.

Her mother's rule had been the same since Caroline was ten years old: always be home before dark. It didn't matter that nine years had passed since then, or that Caroline by this point could walk the three dozen blocks from the library in her sleep. It wasn't that her mother was overprotective exactly. In fact, Caroline enjoyed more freedom than many of the girls she knew. Her mother was sensible, and unfortunately sensibility has a tendency to stand in the way of fun.

A white fog hung over the city as Caroline stepped out of the library doors and onto the street. The night was cold, dry, and a bit unpleasant as they had a habit of being in the beginning of October, but a glance at the sky suggested it would not stay that way for long. Heavy clouds were gathering low over the skyline as if a snowstorm was due to start any minute. On the road in front of her, a horse whined and stomped impatiently. Perhaps he too could feel the impending danger and was eager to get home. As the carriage pulled away, Caroline noticed a familiar wave of fiery gold in the passenger compartment. Their eyes met briefly, and then she was gone; lost in the swarm of downtown Chicago. Caroline pulled her coat tighter around herself, and set off.

Color had already begun to fade from the sky as Caroline made her way through town. The click of her heeled boots on pavement echoed along the street as the cool night air began to bite through her skirts at the skin beneath. Although the crowds had thinned out considerably in the hours since she had arrived, this part of town was never empty. Well dressed businessmen and dirt covered factory boys alike were heading home from a day's work.

There was something almost surreal about twilight in the city. It was as if for a moment everyone became equals. It didn't matter what you did, if you were going home to a mansion or the slums, if you would arrive to a feast or bare cupboards. All that mattered was that everyone was here, and everyone was going home.

Caroline, for instance, was going home to be scolded by her mother. Already, the normally vibrant street had been reduced to a series of grays as the sun disappeared below the skyline. She understood why her mother worried. After all, she wasn't entirely comfortable being out alone after dark either, but it wasn't as if she'd had much of a choice. It was unfair the way the sun worked. In the summer months she could stay an hour after the end of her shift to read and still make it home with time to spare. By next month she would probably have to leave her post early if she wanted to keep her mother from sending out a search party.

By the time she turned the last corner onto her street, it was hard to describe the sky as anything other than dark. Not that Caroline wouldn't try when she got inside. Hopefully she could at least convince her father to back her up. He was often the one who supported her explorations in the city, sometimes even further than she wanted him to. Several years ago when her best friend had moved to New York leaving them both devastated, it had been her father who suggested that she buy a train ticket and go stay with her family for a few weeks. Caroline had been fifteen and not entirely sure if he was joking or not. Either way, the two girls had appeased themselves with writing letters for the time being.

Caroline pulled down on the ornate handle of her front door, or at least she tried to. The door remained firmly locked in place. With a sigh, she pulled the bag off her shoulder and began rummaging through it to find her key. Her parents knew to keep the door unlocked for her on the nights she was working at the library, so the key was hardly ever needed and therefore quite buried. Unfortunately her half frozen and difficult to move fingers were not making the search any easier.

By the time Caroline entered the sitting room, she was so focused on her own body temperature that she had almost forgotten who should have been there waiting for her. The newly installed electric lights cast a warm glow on the room. Not a single rug or decorative pillow was out of place, yet something was off. The faintly burning fireplace clearly had not been stoked within the hour, meaning that no one had spent substantial time here. Caroline briefly considered sneaking off to her room and telling anyone who came looking for her that she had been there for hours, but something told her that might take a while.

Footsteps sounded down one of the many mahogany hallways. Caroline turned around, listening for a tell that would indicate who it was. It didn't as much matter where they were; no matter how much of a maze the passageways in her house were, they all led back to the sitting room at some point. The footsteps were quick. Not heavy like her father's but not delicate like her mother's, which only left...

"Charlotte?" Caroline's call echoed through the expanse of rooms.

The familiar shape of her housekeeper and former nursery attendant stepped out of the darkness. Charlotte was short, but well built. Her broad shoulders had carried a young Caroline on many adventures and provided an ideal perch for viewing the world. Her strong arms had sheltered Caroline from the monsters under her bed, and delivered her to them when she fell asleep at one of the parties that her parents paraded her around at. If you asked Caroline about her parents, she would have told you she had three.

"Are my parents home?"

"No, not yet. Your mother went to bring dinner to your father's office a little while ago. He's working late tonight and I imagine she'll stay there with him for a while. There's food for you in the dining room, let me know if you need me to heat it up."

Charlotte turned her attention to the fireplace that was now little more than glowing embers.

The chicken wasn't unpleasantly cold, at least not at first. The first few bites were pleasantly warm, but the closer she got to the center the more she felt like she was eating small, stringy pieces of ice. Caroline didn't bother asking Charlotte to heat it up. She didn't know where she was, and it wasn't worth the trouble for either of them if Caroline were to go find her. Instead, Caroline pulled a book out of her bag and began to read. This was one of the benefits of the nights her parent's spent at her father's office. No one was there to enforce the "no books at the dinner table" rule.

After she had eaten, Caroline briefly considered going back to the sitting room to await her parent's return, but experience warned her otherwise. Instead, she made her way to her bedroom and slowly began preparing herself for bed. The moonlight out her window neutralized the rose in her cheeks, causing her to look more like a porcelain doll than a person.

She pulled the pins from her hair, watching them pile up on her vanity tray until she was unsure how they had all fit on her head. Reaching behind her back she carefully pulled at the gray laces on her bodice. Leaving the skirt and bustle crumpled on the rug with a silent promise to pick them up in the morning, Caroline stepped into a thin white nightgown, pulled the curtain, and extinguished the light. Errant thoughts of sunrisen hair and snowkissed skin followed her to sleep.