No Facilities

I got excited when Teagan Geneviene announced her Christmas in July blog hop, and I wrote this story. When Teagan released the guidelines, I realized that I may not have touched all the bases, but I think I’m in the ballpark.⁽¹⁾

The Vicar’s Gift

1834– Brimfield, Massachusetts

“Asa Herrington, where do you think you are going?”

“To my workshop. I must finish the chess set for the Vicar. Tomorrow is Christmas, and the congregation commissioned it as a gift for him.”

“You’ve had a fever for four days now. You go out into that weather, and the Vicar is going to perform your funeral for Christmas.”

“I feel much better today than I have. Your loving care has pulled me back from death’s door, my dear. I’ll be fine. Besides, I haven’t much left to do.”

“Let me make you some tea first. Sit at the table. Then see how you feel. You’ve hardly been upright more than a few minutes to visit the necessary.”

“Speaking of which, I should go there now. I’ll empty the chamber pot. You’ll see—I’m fine.”

Asa bundled against the cold December wind and walked to the outhouse. On his return, he looked over to his cabinet shop. The thought of sitting at his bench, with a tool in his hand gave him strength. The thought of completing the Vicar’s gift made him happy.

Inside, Elizabeth had prepared his tea, warmed a bit of dried apple pie and some baked beans. She also woke their oldest son.

“Duncan, your father has a small job to finish in his shop. I want you to go with him. He isn’t well enough to be over there alone. But join us for some breakfast first.”

“Yes, mother.”

Asa and Duncan ate and then walked to the cabinet shop.

“What’s left to do on the chess set, papa?”

“Not much, son. I have to finish the white pawns and the white knights. The pawns will be easy to carve. The knights will take some time. Then we can oil the lot of them and be done.”

Inside the shop, Asa had Duncan build a fire in the stove. His workbench wasn’t far from the stove and the chess set sat proud on one side. The black pieces were complete. Carved from oak, darkened with iron buff and ready to be oiled. The white rank of pawns had been lathe turned from small blocks of maple. They stood like fat little soldiers but were missing the carved armor of the black pawns. Two rectangular blocks stood in the knight’s positions. On both sides, the king and queen were stunning works of art, but the bishops, in recognition of who this gift was for, were the consummate carvings in the set. The wide sleeves on their robes looked like flowing cloth. If he concentrated, the player might be convinced the robes were moving.

With the fire started, Duncan sat on his favorite stool, the one opposite his father. He helped make that stool, and always used it. He liked being in the shop, learning more and more about his father’s craft as he grew older.

“How will you make these pieces, papa? Is there anything I can do to help?”

“I will chip-carve scales in the excess girth of the pawns to represent their armor. I’m afraid you’re too young to handle the sharp knives involved. I’ll cut the knights with a coping saw, as close to final form as I can. Filing, carving and sanding will take them the rest of the way. For now, you can help by handing me the tools as I need them.”

Asa cut and carved one of the knights. He gave the roughed-out horse’s head to Duncan to sand, admonishing him to be careful.

“Work along the grain, and within the shape. You’re not to remove any details, just make everything smooth. I’ll start on the pawns and get ahead of you before moving back to the second knight.”

Duncan fondled the knight. Proud of what his father accomplished. “The horse’s mane is blowing in the wind, papa—it looks like flames.”

Asa smiled. After completing four pawns, the arthritis in his hands began to make it hard to hold the small pieces. He stood to warm his hands by the stove. As he rose, Asa clutched his chest.

“Duncan, quickly, go get your mother.”

–––2024 – Old Sturbridge Village, Massachusetts

Michael Wesley and his fiancé Megan Carmen were touring Old Sturbridge Village after attending a lecture on 19^th century gardening. To avoid the crowd leaving the lecture, they set out going backward from the traditional loop into the main street of the village. Arriving first at the print shop, they watched as the team of period dressed artisans printed and bound a small booklet. Megan always enjoyed the print shop, as it was one craft that employed women where they would have earned almost as much money as men.

“Sewing clothes was women’s work for the family,” she scoffed, “Sewing books was a trade.”

As they entered the end of town opposite the Meeting House, they had to decide which way to go.

“I think walking through the covered bridge and around the mill pond will let us avoid the crowd. They’ll all be starting near the Meeting House.” Michael pointed to the other end of the green.

“You just want to see the sawmill. You know, I don’t think it’s running today.”

Michael laughed. “You know me, too well, but I do think it will be less crowded. We can see all the buildings on the back side of the pond, visit the cabinet shop and then come down through town.”

“I know you well enough to know that the cabinet shop is your destination.”

Michael pointed across the green. “The tavern is open. Would you like something to drink?”

“We’ve been inside enough.” Megan insisted. “But I could go for a glass of iced tea. It is getting warm out here.”

Michael laughed. “You’ll long for the warmth of Christmas in July when we’re freezing our butts off in December.”

Megan smiled. “When we come back for Christmas by Candlelight, you can buy me hot chocolate with Peppermint Schnapps.”

Michael and Megan toured the sawmill, the grist mill and the carding mill. All powered by the central mill pond, but sadly, none of them operating this day. Still, the mechanical contrivances on display were fascinating. Turning energy from a water-powered wheel into controlled, useful power and transmitting it throughout each mill with wheels, shafts, and belts, to where it was needed captivated Michael’s imagination. He would point to the various transfer points, control mechanisms, and explain how they worked.

“I think you should have been born two hundred years ago, Mike. Then you could have grown up to be a millwright. I think you would have enjoyed that work so much, you’d have done it for free.”

“No. I would have been well paid, my love. How else would we feed ourselves and our seven children?”

“Seven children? Megan shuddered at the thought. “Given the maternal mortality rate at the time, I’m not sure I like those odds. Maybe I should stay single and be a book binder.”

1834 – Brimfield, Massachusetts

Duncan returned to the cabinet shop with his mother. He explained what had happened as they ran across the packed snow to the shop. Elizabeth took one look at her husband lying on the floor next to his bench and grabbed her chest in fear. He was barely moving. Reminding herself to be strong in front of her son, she suppressed her desire to scream. She knelt beside Asa and shouted to Duncan to run and get the doctor.

Duncan returned a few minutes later with Doctor James Crawford. Three other men, curious of the sight of the two of them running by, ran after them. Once inside, the doctor, Elizabeth, and Duncan moved the heavy workbench away from Asa’s limp body. James stretched Asa out and placed some rags under his head.

“It looks like angina pectoris. His heart has stopped functioning properly.”

By this time, the other men were in the shop, including the shopkeeper, Wilson Beavers.

“Willson, bring me some brandy and warm water—mix it strong. Elizabeth, prepare a mustard plaster.”

“Shouldn’t we move him home, doctor?”

“No. It will be easier to keep this small space warm. We’ll make him as comfortable as possible here. I hate to tell you this, Elizabeth, but you should send for the Vicar as well.”

2024 – Old Sturbridge Village, Massachusetts

Michael and Megan stopped at the blacksmith shop. They watched as the blacksmith fashioned hooks and other accessories for hanging tools. The experience drew them in completely. The sound of the bellows boosting the fire, the cigar-like smell of the coal, the hammering and even the loud hiss of the iron as it was quenched. Michael imagined himself manipulating the red-hot metal with nothing more than his own strength and the leverage of iron tools. Megan stood in amazement, watching the man she loved disappear into a land of wonder.

“Before you ask, no, you cannot build a forge.”

“I’ve seen plans for a small one, powered by propane and an old fan from a car’s heater.”

“The neighbors would hate us, Michael. No matter how many iron doodads you’d make for them, they’d hate us.”

They laughed as they walked around the pastures and passed the barns. They stopped to watch an artisan cooper making a wooden bucket from damaged fence rails.

“Nothing went to waste, Megan. They used everything. Not like today.”

“Yes dear.” Megan offered wearily as they walked along the path past the newly built piggery. “Please don’t tell me how they used all the parts of a butchered hog.”

Michael laughed. “I won’t.”

They stopped next at the cobbler’s shop. Michael teased Megan about the many pairs of shoes she had as they watched a young man sewing a shoe and explaining the process.

“Laugh now, but we’ll be in the cabinet shop next, where I get to tease you about using cordless drills instead of, what were they called, a brace and bits? Your precious craft of woodworking has changed quite a lot in two hundred years.”

As predicted, the crowds had thinned considerably at the top of the town green. The cabinet shop was empty, save for the lone craftsman carving chess pieces at a small bench. He urged Michael to examine a few pieces as he explained the process. He handed Megan a cup and ball toy and explained some of the other toys he had made during earlier demonstrations.

Michael was fascinated by the small piece. The artisan pointed to a scrap pile. Megan rolled her eyes as he commented about how not much went to waste in the shop. She turned back to Michael.

“I can see you working here. I’d be home alone with those seven children you keep telling me we should have while you sat quietly carving knights and bishops.”

Michael drifted into thoughts of working at the various stations in the shop, each laid out with works-in-progress nearby. Suddenly, he felt faint. A cold sweat rolled across his face and pain radiated from his chest to his arms and up to his jaw. He was having trouble breathing and he collapsed to the floor. Megan yelled to the cabinetmaker who was still standing at his bench.

“Call 9-1-1, I think he’s having a heart attack.”

“We have first aid staff on site. I’ll call them. Their station is just behind us. They’ll call the others but they can get here sooner.”

The first aid staff arrived in a few minutes. They began CPR and prepared a portable defibrillator as Michael drifted from consciousness.

??? – Whereabouts Unknown

“Hello Michael.”

“Hello. Wh, who are you? Where am I?”

“My name is Asa Herrington. As for where you are…in my time we called it limbo. I’m not sure what you folks call it today.”

“Am I dead?”

“No.” Asa pointed to the right to a hazy scene beyond the mist that surrounded them. “Look closely. Those men are working to save you. Quite the change from my situation.” Asa pointed to the left as the doctor was applying layers of folded cloth to his chest. “That’s a mustard plaster. It won’t save me, but it will ease the pain.”

Michael shook his head slowly. “I, I don’t understand. Please tell me what’s going on.”

“I don’t know exactly. We both suffered what your fiancé said was a heart attack, although that term isn’t in use in my time.”

Asa pointed around at the eerie, mist-filled area they occupied.

“This region is a curious place. I lack an exact term to describe it. Time doesn’t pass at the same speed as in the places we left. I suffered my angina pectoris—that’s what we called it—twenty minutes ago in eighteen thirty-four, and I’m still alive down there. You only just arrived, by my perception, but you’re from one hundred and ninety years in my future.”

Michael grabbed his forehead. He was breathing hard and heavy. “How can this be? How can we be alive at the same time? And if we’re not dead, are we dying? Those men down there, are they going to save me?”

Asa shook his head and laughed softly. “I am surely dying. I’ve seen these ministrations before. They will keep me alive for a few hours, perhaps a day or two, but I will die. You will likely be saved, but there is a task you must complete—it’s why you’re here.”

“A task. What kind of task—I don’t understand any of this!”

“I can’t explain the complexity of where we are or why you’ve been chosen to help me. I only know that you are here to fulfill a purpose so that I can move on, as it were. I can’t reach into my world any more than you can comfort your fiancé down there by your side.” Michael sobbed as he watched Megan suffering as the ambulance arrived and EMTs surrounded him. “However, young man, you can reach into my world. And you must.”

Michael shook his head in quiet resignation. “What do I have to do?”

“You must finish the Vicar’s chess set. A single knight and four pawns remain undone. Finish carving them, and I can move on.”

“Move on? You mean die. I finish those pieces and you die. What about me? Do I die with you?”

Asa smiled. “I don’t think so. Don’t ask me to explain. I have a knowledge of things I didn’t have when I left.” He pointed down to the scene in his shop. “But my knowledge is incomplete. When you finish those pieces, I think you will return to your time. I suspect you will live a good long life.”

Michael remained confused. “What do I tell the people below? The people in your time.”

“Nothing. They won’t even know you’re there. As I said, time for us is fluid. It moves at different rates, and we’re out of sync with their world. As they perceive reality, the pieces, one by one, will just appear changed as you finish them.”

Asa pointed to a clearing in the mist that appeared before them. Michael stepped through and found himself standing, unobserved, in Asa’s shop. He picked up one of the pawn blanks and began carving it to match the others.

Duncan was stunned as he observed the finished pawn appear on the chess board.

“Mamma, look!”

“Please Duncan, be quiet. The doctor is trying to help your father.”

The Vicar held the boy’s shoulders. “It’s okay, son. What is it you see?”

“The chess set. There were four unfinished pawns. Now there are only three.”

The Vicar looked toward the chess board. As he started to suggest to Duncan that he had miscounted and imagined what he thought he saw, a second finished pawn appeared.

Startled, the Vicar squeezed Duncan’s shoulders. The boy shouted.

“You saw it, too, didn’t you. Mamma, the chess pieces are changing—all by themselves.”

As Elizabeth looked toward the Vicar, he nodded and tilted his head toward the chessboard. Just then, a third pawn appeared.

Michael struggled to understand his role in the process. He looked back toward Asa for an explanation, but he could no longer see him. He carved the fourth pawn.

By now, all eyes in the 19^th century workshop were on the chessboard. The row of white pawns stood proud in their rank—ready for battle. Michael picked up the blank for the remaining knight, but he didn’t know how to begin. From a distance, he heard Asa’s instructions.

Michael cut the rough shape and as many of the details as could be cut with a fine coping saw. Then he used small chip carving knives, chisels, a small rasp and a file to finish the shape.

Duncan saw the finished knight appear. Elizabeth was frightened as she saw her son reach for it.

“Duncan, don’t touch that.”

“It’s all right mama. This is what I do. Papa carved the pieces, and I sanded them. I sanded the other knight just before he collapsed.”

The Vicar moved to Elizabeth’s side.

“We can’t understand this miracle, Elizabeth, but this is the boy’s role in a mysterious process that I feel we must let run to completion.”

The mist returned to partially obscure Michael’s view of the shop. He was once again at Asa’s side. Asa was smiling as he watched his son finish sanding the newly completed pieces.

“The Vicar’s gift is complete, young man. Thank you.”

“What happens now?” Michael pleaded.

“We go our separate ways.”

Asa disappeared into the mist. Michael looked around and the mist itself started to dissipate. He looked up from the floor of the modern-day cabinet shop, at the faces of two EMTs kneeling over him.

2024 – Old Sturbridge Village, Massachusetts

“Welcome back, Michael. An ambulance is here. We’ll take you to a hospital. You’re going to be fine.”

They lifted Michael onto a stretcher. The EMTs accompanied Megan to the ambulance. The cabinetmaker returned to his bench, where he found the chess set complete. Stunned and shaken, he picked up one of the bishops.

“What happened here? This bishop is beautiful. I didn’t carve these elaborate details.”

He examined the bishop closely. When he turned it over, he saw several letters that had been carved into the bottom — “Asa H.”

The gallery features photos from Old Sturbridge Village that begin with Asa Herrington’s world and moves to Michael’s and Megan’s tour.

Thank you for reading. I will spare you the usual lengthy bit of self-promotion, but if you enjoyed this story, please visit my Amazon author page. Also, pop over and visit Teagan’s author page as well. It’s never too early to start thinking about Christmas.

(1) I normally participate in Linda G. Hill’s One-Liner Wednesday. I couldn’t resist, so I’m using the last line of the introduction as my one-liner.