Once in a Blue Moon by Diane Darcy

sighed, shut the
oven door and turned to the kids. “Your father will probably know
how to cook something.”
    Jessica crossed her
arms. “If he’s working all day, should he have to come home and
cook too?”
    “Should he have to come
home and eat mom’s cooking?” Jeremy countered.
    Jessica smiled. “Good
point.”
    The kids laughed.
    Put some food in them
and they became comedians. Melissa turned away. “I’m not
listening,” she said, her voice singsong. Her gaze fell on the
abandoned feed sack she’d hauled all the way from Sully’s. Enough
sitting around. She needed to get organized and then come up with a
plan of action. Just because she was in a different century, and
just because she’d only be here for three months, didn’t mean she
couldn’t stick with what worked for her. She clapped her hands
together. “Let’s get organized.”
    She expected resistance
from the kids, but when she turned they were grinning.
    Melissa eyed them.
“What’s so funny?”
    “You,” said Jessica
with a sweep of her arm to indicate the cabin. “What are you going
to organize?”
    Both kids laughed
again.
    A smile tugged at her
mouth, her own mood apparently improved by the food too. “Never you
mind, just follow me.” Melissa picked up the feed sack and pushed
the doorway curtain all the way open on the way into the smaller
room.
    The kids followed and
stood in the entrance.
    Melissa surveyed the
room. It wasn’t much. A small, short bed with a folded pile of
bedding on it took up almost the entire space, which wasn’t saying
much since the bed was so narrow. A chest sat at the foot of the
bed, there was a window with another ugly curtain, and that was it:
no closet, no dresser, nothing. It was pretty pathetic.
    She pulled her few
possessions from the sack: a hideous yellow dress, some stockings,
a ridiculous lace-edged apron, a few handkerchiefs, a cape, some
material, and her own dress, slip and shoes. Oh, the bounty.
    She spread open the
material. Several large patches were moth-eaten, making it useless.
So much for making Jessica a dress. She shook her head, opened the
trunk, folded everything and placed the meager possessions inside.
She couldn’t help thinking of her walk-in closet at home, packed
with more clothes than she could ever wear.
    She unfolded one of the
sheets and tried to remember the last time she’d made a bed. She
couldn’t. She opened the other sheet. Neither was fitted. She
stared in confusion.
    Jeremy grinned. “Need
some help?”
    Melissa tried to look
unconcerned. “Yes. Um, why don’t you two do this? And when you’re
done, make your own beds and clean your...er...room.”
    The kids exchanged a
sardonic look.
    Melissa pretended not
to see it as she walked out of the tiny bedroom and stood in the
middle of the... the living room. The little cabin was
claustrophobic. There was no way she could stay in this place for
three months. No, make that two months, twenty-nine days. She
glanced at the log wall by the front door and wondered if she
should scratch a line in one of the logs, indicating one day of
time served.
    She sighed. What she
needed was to quickly get a handle on things and figure out where
she stood. She needed a job, though how she’d get a job in fashion
wearing one of her new dresses, she didn’t know.
    She realized she didn’t
even know how far it was to the nearest town. Was it still Garden
City, or did that town exist in the here and now? She had a lot to
think about, and wished she had a pen and some paper to formulate a
plan on. She grimaced. Perhaps she should get a stick and go
outside and write in the dirt.
    A knock on the door
broke into her reverie, and hope widened her eyes. Perhaps it was
Richard coming home to apologize? She hurried to the door,
determined to forgive him quickly.
    Three young women stood
there, smiles on their faces.
    “Hello, I’m Sarah
Mendelson.” The chubby, full-breasted one in the middle seemed to
be the spokesperson. She