Gracie's Time

By Christine Potter

October, 1962
It's almost Halloween, but something a lot scarier than ghosts is on everyone's mind: nuclear war. After President Kennedy's speech to the nation about the Cuban Missile Crisis, Grace Ingraham overhears her parents' plans to keep her safe. She'll be sent off to live with a wealthy uncle—in the nineteenth century.

Gracie's from a family of Travelers, people who can escape into time. Too bad her mom and dad haven't Traveled since their honeymoon trip to the Lincoln Inauguration. So Grace will have to go alone—even though taking a wrong turn can have serious consequences: like heading for 1890, and ending up ...in 2018.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Evernight Teen
• Release date: Aug 23, 2019
• ISBN: 9780369500304

Book preview

Chapter One

October 23, 1962

My mom hung up the phone. Then she kissed me on the forehead, the way she used to when I was tiny and was only sending me off to kindergarten. It’s all set up, Gracie. He’ll meet you where Merrygrove Drive ends, up by the old Brown Estate. Act like you’re just out for a walk or something. With this Cuba nonsense, everyone’s glued to the TV. You know what Mr. Mahoney’s new car looks like, right?

Did I ever! He’d only had that screaming red Corvair for a few days. I’d been crazy for a ride in it—but not like this. Definitely not like this! I stared into the mirror over the living room couch and wished I hadn’t let Mom cut my hair freshman year. But I probably couldn’t have stopped her.

You’re going to high school now. You’ll look like a baby with those braids down your back, she’d said. Don’t you want to set your hair on rollers, like mine? She’d shown me how to brush it into a little wave at my shoulders—a flip, that’s called. Even though I hated the idea at first, I still wear my hair that way. I’m a plain old brunette except for my blonde highlights, and a flip shows them off. But sometimes when I’m nervous, I still want my braids back.

And I was nervous that night—really nervous. I wasn’t positive where Mr. Mahoney was supposed to take me, but I had it almost figured out. Dad was sitting in front of the TV, watching Walter Cronkite with the News.

C’mere, Gracie, he said, and I ran to him and kissed him on the cheek. He smelled like the martini he was drinking. Dad’s probably where I get my blonde highlights from. His hair was a really pretty shade of gold, and only a tiny bit thin on top. I remember exactly how it looked that night, in the light from the TV.

He turned his tired blue eyes on me. It’ll be okay, honey. Mr. Mahoney Travels all the time. He’s way better at it than we are these days. He’ll point you where you need to go.

Mr. Mahoney was my parents’ best friend, the only bachelor on our block, and he really was a neat guy. His place had all the weird sound effects on Halloween—he had a fancy hi-fi set, and it was loud. He already had everything hooked up to scare the trick-or-treaters this year. When it wasn’t Halloween, you could hear his jazz records two houses away: saxophones, drums, and trumpets.

Mom took my hand and walked me to the door. My good girl, she said, and hugged me. She dabbed at her eyes with the apron we had made that past summer. It was yellow cotton, with red hearts for pockets. I’d wanted one like it, but we ran out of time in September. Mom and I used to sew together. I was almost good enough to follow a Butterick pattern alone.

Under the apron, Mom still had on her red dress from teaching art at Stormkill Elementary. That actually looked snazzy, like she’d planned the outfit. Her hair was still a slightly darker brunette than mine then, and she looked great in bright colors.

You look pretty, I said. Your apron goes with your dress. That felt like a stupid thing to say considering I might never see her again … considering I might never see anyone again. Depending on when the bombs started to drop, that was.

Mom and Dad were being pretty closed-mouthed about it, but there was a reason they were sending me away—or maybe I should say sending me back. President Kennedy had been on TV the night before. He’d explained all about Cuba and the Russians. We’d watched his speech together.

Afterwards, Mom and Dad tried to act like nothing much was wrong, but Dad had three martinis that night. They waited until they thought I was asleep to talk. I snuck out of my room to spy on them from the top of the stairs. They stayed in the living room smoking cigarettes until after midnight. Mom had a martini, too, and she almost never drank.

No, no, Alda! That’s just crazy. Gracie’d never survive the 1790’s, Dad had said. Poor kid’s blood has to be half penicillin by now. She’ll get another one of her throat infections…

She’s almost sixteen. She hasn’t been sick like that since she had her tonsils out. All right, then, how about that uncle of yours with the dairy? That’s the 1890s, right? Wasn’t that the only place that sold pure milk in New York City? You said he was really rich and a Master Traveler! Might even be fun for her.

Dad’s face brightened. Augustus Ingraham! Wore diamonds and drank fancy cocktails at The Grand Central Hotel. But let’s not make her any promises. Just in case… He lit a cigarette off the one he’d just finished smoking. So you talked to the high school?

Told them she’s going out to Indiana to help Brenda for a few weeks. ‘Course, Ralph Bucci thinks we’re just trying to get her away from the New York area, but who cares what he thinks? Even Indiana won’t be safe if… Mom sighed.

Yeah. Dad fished the olive out of his drink and ate it.

You’ll contact Uncle Augustus, then?

My father had a big drag off his cig and exhaled two long streams of smoke. And then he sighed. Guess I could try. Sure hope I remember the fine points. We haven’t Traveled since our honeymoon!

Ah, the Lincoln Inauguration. You sure know how to show a gal a good time.

Yeah, that was some fun, wasn’t it, Alda?

Mom’s smile was sad. Grace’s never Traveled before. One of us should go along.

Dad looked lost. You know I can’t. I’m mayor of this town. And there are my students at WCC. Knowing history might be their only hope! Jack Kennedy just told the nation we need to sacrifice, and he’s right. You go. I’ll invent a story, cover for you…

How could I leave my students? That would look terrible, especially now.

It got quiet for a few minutes. Then my dad held up his pointer finger. Another idea. Gracie’s a capable girl. All she really needs is the right place to stand and a little push. Bill Mahoney can launch her. Kiddo’s going to be a natural."

If you think she just needs a little push, why don’t you do it? Why don’t we do it?

I thought my father was going to cry. Could you, Alda? Could you really? I know I couldn’t. The truth is I’m not even sure I remember how. It’s never worked from inside this house. And of course if anyone saw us…

Mom drained her martini and looked down. Oh, Ed…

I’ll have Bill get hold of Augustus. Dad stubbed out his cigarette.

Maybe you’ve figured out by now that I come from a family of Travelers. Since you’re most likely not one yourself, I’ll explain. Being a Traveler means you can go back in time. You don’t need a machine and it’s not like the movies. It’s just something that some people do. And it’s generally top secret stuff.

Most Travelers only get a little peek at the past—a few minutes or an hour or two. Dad always told me those people aren’t from real Traveling families. Those folks are invisible when they visit the past, almost like ghosts. They can’t break through and talk with anyone until they’ve gotten more experience.

But if you’re from a Traveling family, it’s different, right from the start. You can even live in the past if you have to, as long as you’re careful. Mom and Dad always said when I got older we’d all Travel somewhere together, but somehow they were always too busy—classes to teach, votes to get out, papers to grade.

There are Rules for Traveling. Rule One is that you’re never supposed to travel for profit. You can’t even change things in the past to make stuff come out better for you when you get home. So forget about stopping wars and rescuing the Titanic. Dad always said history teaches us that stuff is way more complicated than you’d think.

Rule Two is that you can’t ever go to a time in the future. That’s a biggie. Some Travelers break The Rules, but they can end up in big trouble or even get killed.

Once upon a time, I thought that was everything you needed to know.

I was wrong.

I was about to break a really big Rule, and I didn’t even know it.

After I kissed Mom goodbye, I put on my brown corduroy jacket and went out the door. All the living rooms in our neighborhood were lit up with blue TV light. The air smelled like smoke from everyone’s leaf-pile bonfires. And it was too late in the year for crickets.

I walked to Merrygrove Drive, where our neighborhood kind of gives up. The houses stopped maybe half a mile before there, and then there was a collapsed horse barn, overgrown with vines. At driveway of the abandoned Brown Estate, Mr. Mahoney was already waiting in his brand new Corvair. He jumped out, and ran around to the passenger side to get the door for me.

He was younger than my parents. His hair was jet black, in a crew cut. He wore a long V-neck sweater and dark colored pants and he smoked cherry blend tobacco in a pipe. It smelled so much better than my parents’ cigs! I thought Mr. Mahoney’s pipe was almost as cool as his car.

I got in. He’d been listening to the radio, but he turned it off right away.

So, your very first journey tonight, Gracie!

Yeah, I said. And I happen to know you’re not coming with me.

You do, huh?

Yeah. I kind of eavesdropped.

Mr. Mahoney chuckled. You’re right. I’m just … launching you. You know, like an astronaut! Except you don’t even need a rocket ship! Did your parents tell you where you’re going yet?

They said you would. They haven’t been telling me much lately. I heard them talking about some uncle who owned a milk business in the 1890s in the City. Maybe they were afraid I’d say I wouldn’t go or something.

Mr. Mahoney’s eyes looked sad despite his smile. You figured it out! Smart girl. Don’t worry, Gracie. You’ll like the 1890s. Great clothes, very glamorous, and your uncle Augustus has piles and piles of money. Plus he’s a Master Traveler. Did they tell you that? Master Travelers can sort of—tune in, I guess is the best way to put it—on the rest of us. We’re heading for the train station, perfect place to start your first trip, always an easy lift-off down there. When you arrive in his time, Uncle Augustus will be waiting for you. Bet he’ll have a big bag of pretty dresses for you to wear so you’ll fit right in.

Mom says Traveling doesn’t feel strange or anything. She says once you decide where you’re headed, you just end up where you’re supposed to be, in the right time and everything.

That’s right. We were passing Stormkill High. It was a brick building with big leaded glass windows. It looked like a fancy college in England, and I’d only gone there for a year. I felt like I should wave goodbye to it or something, but that seemed childish.

Mr. Mahoney? Do you think there’s going to be nuclear war?

I can’t imagine. But I’ve never met anyone visiting our time from the future, if that’s what you mean. With this Cuba thing, it gets a man thinking…

Is he saying there won’t BE a future? I felt cold inside.

I’m scared, I said, and it was true.

Honey, this may not be for keeps. You’re just going somewhere really nice where you’ll be safe no matter what. Think about all the parties and fancy gowns. You’ll be the toast of Manhattan society!

I’d seen pictures of ladies in Victorian ball dresses. They looked kind of tight around the waist to me.

We drove down to the station and parked by the river. A train from the City stopped and let a few people off. They got into their cars and drove away. When we were alone, Mr. Mahoney opened the trunk of his car and pulled out a little suitcase.

Here, he said. Your mom wanted you to have this. She packed up a few things for you to remember us all by. She told me she didn’t have the heart to give it to you herself.

I heard a snoring sound in the sky then, but it was only a plane. For a moment I thought about how terrible it would be if a nuclear war started right that minute, before I could escape to the past. Then I thought about Mom and Dad. I hoped they’d come get me from the 1890s if there weren’t a war. I didn’t want them to die. I didn’t want anyone to die. I really wanted there to be a future.

Mr. Mahoney and I walked past the train station and out onto the empty platform. He looked over his shoulder to be sure no one was around. Are you ready? He took my hands, squeezed them, and then he let go. It’s the right time and place! Go on back, Gracie!

At first, I thought nothing had happened, except then it wasn’t evening anymore. It was morning—and certainly not the 1890s. Nobody named Augustus introduced himself to me.

Dad always told me that if you get confused when you Travel, you should always look at what kind of lights there are in buildings and what clothing people have on to help place yourself. But what I saw only confused me more.

A freezing wind came off the river and cut right through my corduroy jacket. People in puffy grey and brown overcoats stood in clumps, staring at what I first thought were really tiny transistor radios. I learned that same day those things are called smart phones. I’d missed the 1890s by over a hundred years—and in the wrong direction.

A sleek, silvery train roared into the station from the north and everyone got on it but me. Bingo, the future! I’d just broken one of the biggest Rules there is.

Chapter Two

February 12, 2018

There was nothing else to do, so I opened the door to the station house and went inside.

At least I was out of the cold. Everything seemed much too bright. Lights were everywhere, on everything. A big electric sign flashed what trains were arriving and departing in how many minutes. The wooden benches that used to be there had been replaced with rows of ugly green and yellow plastic seats. Off in one corner, people were lined up to buy coffee, but when I looked at the prices, that didn’t seem like a good idea. I only had five bucks in my pocketbook, and just one cup cost a dollar fifty.

Despite the glare, the room was oddly quiet. People stared at their phones. Almost no one talked to anyone.

I sat down and looked out at the Hudson River. At least that looked normal. Silver-blue water sparkled in the morning sun, and the reddish stone cliffs of the Palisades on the other side looked like they always had. But the cars parked outside the station were all wrong, either too little or much too big, almost like buses.

I went to the future! That made me feel shivery-sick inside. I didn’t mean to do it, though! I really didn’t! If you didn’t mean to, maybe you wouldn’t get in trouble.

But wait a minute. If I really had Traveled far enough forward for things to have changed this much, it was proof that the world had survived! That thought should have had me celebrating, but I was way too busy being lost.

My clothes were all the wrong colors. Everyone else was wearing grey and black and I had on green and orange plaid slacks under my corduroy jacket. Nobody seemed to notice. Maybe I didn’t look strange enough to make people stare. I wandered back over to the coffee stand and saw a copy of The New York Times for sale. It looked the same—sort of. But the photos were in color! And the date said February 12, 2018. So that’s where I’d landed. I wanted to read the news stories, but I didn’t get any further than the price. It was two-fifty, even more than coffee.

I sat back down on one of the ugly chairs to think. Commuters hurried through the station—a parade of padded coats that looked like quilts with zippers on them. Some people wore black leather jackets and dungarees—that’s what I called jeans until I came here. The glowing green numerals on the clock over the coffee stand across the room said 9:25.

I decided to see if I could think my way into Traveling home again. I didn’t even care if someone saw me doing it. I was tired from having stayed up half the night before, listening to my parents worry and plan. I closed my eyes and tried to relax. I focused on Mom and her pretty apron, about the kids I was just getting to