Holiday Dream

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February 1971

Eric Daniels sat in the third row of the orchestra, his eyes tightly fixed on the flag draped Presidential Box above him to the right. As he listened to the Park Ranger recount the events of April 14th, 1865, he closed his eyes for a moment and could visualize the seats around him, filled as they had been that night. Few of the attendees that night probably gave notice to the well-dressed young man working his way along the walls of the upper tier, even though he was one of the most celebrated actors of the time. They had no way of knowing the murderous intent in his heart, or that the history of the Republic itself was about to be changed.

In his imagination, Eric could hear the single shot that ended the life of Abraham Lincoln and see the blur of motion as the assassin used his blade to clear a path, injuring the President's guest before leaping over the railing to the stage below -- fracturing his leg in the process. History had always been one of the sandy haired carpenter's favorite subjects back in school, and while he was far from a historian, the twenty-one year old had read several books about the assassination.

As the tour group exited the theatre and moved across the street to the Peterson House where Lincoln had died the following morning, Eric decided that just the chance to visit Ford's Theatre would've been enough to justify the trip to Washington; everything else was just a bonus. Of course, he'd felt the same way yesterday after visiting Arlington Cemetery, as well during the nighttime tour of the city which had encompassed the White House, the Capitol, the Washington Monument and of course the Lincoln Monument.

The trip itself had been organized by the Harristown Historical Society, taking advantage of the recent law that moved the celebration of Washington's Birthday to the third Monday in February. A change that, with Lincoln's Birthday falling on the previous Friday this year, created a four-day weekend.

Eric wasn't a member of the Society, and even if he had been one, the trip wasn't one he was originally supposed to go on. Sandwiched in between the two Presidential birthdays was Valentine's Day, and even though he and his girlfriend had only been dating a month, she took a dim view of his going off to look at a bunch of old buildings and musty paintings as she described the trip, instead of spending the holiday with her.

But then, just before the multi-holiday, Cheryl had an abrupt change of heart. Not about the trip, which she still thought a waste, but about Eric himself. As attractive a prospect as she had initially thought him to be, she'd since found him lacking in certain aspects and abruptly broke off the relationship.

Eric didn't have too long to feel about the break-up because, on the same day, Stuart Gilbert, who was a Society member as well as both a former teacher at Eric's high school and Eric's current employer, took a fall and badly sprained his ankle. The sixty-year-old had been employing the carpenter to build a new set of bookcases and knowing his interest in history, had offered him his ticket for the trip -- an offer that Eric had been quick to accept.

When he arrived at the parking lot of the local mall from which the Tour Bus was leaving from, Eric saw, at a quick count, some forty-nine people waiting to board. He recognized a few of them, but most were strangers, especially since Stuart had mentioned that the Society shared transport and accommodations with another group from Darbyville, which was the next town over. The bus rental cost the same whether there were twenty passengers or fifty, so it was important to fill as many seats as possible to keep everyone's individual cost low.

As he boarded the bus and looked for an empty seat, it became apparent to Eric that few of the tour's participants looked to be under fifty. Among the few exemptions were two women sitting together toward the rear of the bus and as luck would have it, there was an empty seat right across from them, in which Eric quickly planted himself. As the trip progressed, however, it quickly became clear that the two women were more interested in each other's company than in making a new friend.

'Well, I didn't come on the trip looking for a date for Valentine's Day,' Eric had thought as he retrieved the book he had brought from his backpack and started to read.

The weather in DC hadn't been bad for mid-February, with the daytime average ranging from the mid-forties to fifties and no inclement weather on the horizon. Overall, the trip had been great, Eric felt, with perhaps one small exception. Well, maybe not so small.

Again, to help reduce costs, everyone shared a room at the hotel. Oh, you could get your own room if you did you were responsible for the added cost. As far as Eric knew, no one had thought it worthwhile. The rooming arrangements had been worked out well in advance, and since Eric was traveling on Stuart Gilbert's ticket, he also got his roommate.

At first, Eric hadn't seen that as a problem. Joshua Morgan, who had taught history at West Valley High School for nearly forty years, seemed a nice enough guy and Eric figured they'd get along fine. That was until the first night, however, when he discovered that the man snored like a freight train. A problem that wouldn't have been one for Gilbert, because he was hard of hearing; when he wanted to shut out the outside world, all he had to do was shut off his hearing aid. Not being so lucky, Eric had barely gotten four hours' sleep.

After the trip to the Peterson House, the group broke for an early lunch, intending to spend the rest of the day on the National Mall and go to the Smithsonian Institute. The schedule further called for them to have dinner in the city before heading back to the hotel in Arlington. Tomorrow had been set aside to see the remainder of the sites they had only driven by last night, and the last day would find them stopping at Mount Vernon, the home of George Washington, on the way home.

-=-=-=-

They didn't get back to their rooms until after nine, and most of the group decided to call it an early night in order to be well rested for the next day's excursions. Surprisingly, even with his limited sleep the night before, Eric didn't feel all that tired himself. So, he figured he'd have a drink or two at the bar. If nothing else, it might help him fall asleep despite the distracting noise.

With tomorrow being Valentine's Day, it wasn't surprising to find a few couples in the hotel bar getting a head start on the holiday. It was also not surprising to find a lack of single women in the bar, at least of women anywhere near his own age. On a Saturday night, they would most likely be found in one of the local bars frequented by townies, rather than one that catered to tourists.

At five nine and a hundred and seventy pounds, with a tightly trimmed beard and a pleasant visage, Eric Daniels was, by most definitions, a good-looking guy -- one that drew his share of female notice. His problem was that, most times, that attention came with a certain set of expectations. Guys that looked like Eric weren't supposed to turn out to be nerds. And with his interest in history, as well as science fiction and fantasy, he very much fit the textbook definition. So, while he did occasionally get laid, few relationships seemed to last long after the initial attraction - Cheryl having been a case in point.

Finding himself an empty table -- there were plenty to pick from -- Eric ordered a beer and spent the next quarter hour half watching the overhead television screen. He had little interest in the sports recap that seemed to occupy the men sitting at the bar, but he really didn't think the bartender would take too kindly to a request to switch the station over to whatever the local CBS affiliate was, so that he could watch "The Mary Tyler Moore Show." The sitcom was one of his guilty pleasures, having had a crush on the star since his teen years, when she'd charmed audiences as Laura Petrie on the "Dick Van Dyke Show."

A second glass soon followed the first, but this time Eric drank it much more deliberately. He only wanted to relax a bit, not get inebriated. He'd just taken his second sip when, out of the corner of his eye, he saw someone approaching from his left. Laying the drink back down on the table, he started to turn in that direction.

"Excuse me, but aren't you part of the tour from Harristown?" a woman in a green and white print dress asked.

Now that she was in his full field of vision, Eric took a moment to take in the woman who had addressed him. In her mid to late forties, she had dark curly brown hair, accented with a few gray highlights. She stood Standing about five six and the younger man would've put her somewhere around a hundred and forty pounds. The dress she wore was just tight enough to highlight her breasts which, while average for her build, were still enough to draw his notice.

"Yes, I am," Eric replied as, once he finally took a second look at her face, he thought she did look familiar.

"I thought I recognized from the bus," the woman smiled. "I'm Peggy Caldwell; I organized the Darbyville contingent."

"Nice to meet you," Eric smiled as he wondered what she wanted.

"I know that this place has nothing but empty seats, but would you mind if I joined you?" she unexpectedly asked.

As if to confirm her statement, Eric glanced around him at the numerous empty tables, finding little had changed since he sat down. Nevertheless, he motioned to the empty chair on the other side of his own table.

"Thank you," Peggy said as she stepped around the table and took that seat before adding. "I find that if I sit alone, it's usually not long before some stranger will decide that I'm probably looking for company. And yes, I know that is just about what I did to you, so I hope you really don't mind?"

"No, not at all," Eric smiled.

Peggy had barely settled in when Marie, the waitress who had earlier served Eric, reappeared at the table. She quickly inquired if she could get the new arrival anything.

"Hmm, that looks refreshing," she said, noting the cold beer sitting in front of Eric. "Why don't you bring me one of those?"

Nodding her head, Marie then looked to Eric to see if he wanted another. He raised his still nearly filled glass and said he was good for the moment.

"I know most of the Harristown Society members, but yours was a new face," Peggy said. "Have you been a member long?"

'I'm not actually a member," Eric replied. "I was given a ticket for the trip by someone who couldn't go."

"Are you a teacher?" Peggy then asked.

The question, Eric thought, was a reasonable one as most of the members were teachers -- active or retired. Since all their field trips had some academic connection, much of the cost could be written off as professional research.

"No, actually, I'm a carpenter," he replied, "but I've always been fascinated by history."

"Me too," Peggy responded. "In fact, that's what I teach at Darbyville High."

Eric was about to make an inane comment about none of his history teachers in high school looking like Peggy, but was saved the embarrassment of doing so by the return of Marie with the brunette's order. Once she'd laid it in front of her, the waitress glanced first at Eric, and then at the small pile of bills in front of him, the change from his own drink. Without really thinking about it, Eric nodded his head and she reached down and withdrew enough to cover the cost of the beer.

"That wasn't necessary, but thank you," Peggy said as the waitress walked away.

"It's nothing," Eric replied, finally realizing that his planned comment would've been a mistake.

"What should we drink to?" the history teacher asked as she lifted her drink. "How about, new friends?"

"New friends it is," Eric agreed as he picked up his own glass.

The toast made, they each took a taste, then returned both glasses to the tabletop.

"The person you replaced, that wouldn't have been Stuart Gilbert by any chance, would it?" Peggy asked, a touch of concern in her voice. "This has to be the first time I've ever known him to miss one of these outings. I asked a few people I knew from earlier trips, but all I could get was that he had some sort of mishap and had gotten hurt."

"It was just a twisted ankle, nothing to worry about," Eric said, confirming that the older teacher had indeed been the source of his ticket. "His doctor said he's going to be fine, but that he should stay off it for a few days."

"Thank goodness," the older woman said with relief. "I was concerned that something might have been really wrong with him."

"I take it that you and Stuart are friends," Eric said.

"Well, I'd say more than just friends," Peggy offered, a fluctuation in her tone adding an unexpected weight to her words.

'Oh?' Eric thought, but at least this time had the foresight not to say, as he considered what she might have meant by that. Then he chided himself for having a dirty mind for even going there.

"I was one of his students when I wasn't much younger than you," she added a few beats later, a broad smile on her face. "In fact, he was the one that inspired me to become a teacher. So, I guess you might call him my mentor."

"You're kidding," Eric said. "I was one of his students too. I was in his class the year he retired. I didn't become a teacher, but he did show me how interesting history could be."

"It's a small world, isn't it?" Peggy remarked before taking another taste of her drink.

As she did so, Eric revisited his self-admonishment for even thinking there might have been something between the two teachers. After all, they were only about a decade apart in age, which, as people got older, seemed to matter less and less. Peggy was still a striking woman and had probably been even more so when she was younger. He knew that Mr. Gilbert had never been married, because he often joked that he was married to his work, and when he looked, there wasn't a ring on Peggy's finger either.

"You said you were one of his students, so that means that you once lived in Harristown," Eric noted, also recalling that his former teacher had been at the local high school all his career.

"Born and raised," Peggy replied. "I moved to Darbyville after I got married."

"Oh, I didn't realize that you were married," the younger man said, realizing that he had made an incorrect assumption.

"Was," Peggy corrected him, adding after a pause. "I've been divorced for, oh, well over twenty years now."

Her addendum surprised Eric even more. Even though divorce was becoming more common, twenty years ago, back in the fifties, it was almost considered scandalous.

"I'm much happier now," she continued, "and so is he. He married again and the last I heard, his wife, who's much younger than he is, is pregnant again. They have four kids already, but I guess some people don't know when to stop."

"What happened?" he heard himself ask, then apologized just as quickly, saying it was none of his business.

"How did she get pregnant?" Peggy asked, a mischievous grin on her face as she brushed aside his apology. "I would've thought that you'd have figured out how that works by now. If not, I'd be happy to recommend a book that explains it."

Eric could only respond with a look that said he had walked right into that.

"Seriously, that was the problem in a nutshell," Peggy said, now that she had enjoyed her laugh. "He wanted kids and I wanted a career. Some women can divide their time and have both; I wasn't one of them."

"Oh," Eric said, thinking how his mother always seemed to have her hands full dealing with him and his two sisters, especially since they were twins.

"But enough of that," Peggy said, changing the subject as she again picked up her glass. "Are you enjoying our little field trip?"

"Yes, it's been very interesting," Eric replied as he again reached for his own glass. "I've always wanted to visit Washington, but never really got around to it."

"This is my third time," Peggy pointed out. "You'd think I'd be tired of it by now, but each time I come, I always manage to find something that I never noticed before."

"Like what?" Eric inquired.

"Well, did you know that there is an FDR Memorial?" she asked him.

From the look on his face, it was obvious that he didn't.

"If you didn't, you could walk right past it and not have any idea it was there," Peggy explained. "It's over by the National Archives and is nothing more than a block of marble about the size of a desk. In fact, that was how President Roosevelt described it when he was asked what kind of remembrance he might like. It just has his name and the years he was born and died, as if it was a tombstone. In fact, it does resemble the one at his actual grave. I saw it some years back when I visited Hyde Park in upstate New York."

"That seems somewhat understated for someone who was President for so long and accomplished so much," Eric observed.

"You'd think so, but that was what he said he wanted," Peggy replied. "Still, this city loves its grand monuments, so I'm sure that one of these years they'll create one for him. One more fitting to his stature."

They spent another half hour discussing some of the other things to see in the Capitol, finishing their drinks in the process. Also, as they talked, Eric learned a bit about Peggy. He had been close with his guess about her age; she had just turned fifty, and had been teaching for over twenty-five years. As she had mentioned before, she wasn't attached, but did date occasionally when she found someone of interest. The mention of her own occasional involvements made her inquire as to his.

"Didn't your girlfriend mind you coming down to DC the same weekend as Valentine's Day?" Peggy asked, shifting the focus of the conversation from her back to Eric.

"I don't have a girlfriend," Eric replied, "well, not any more."

He took a few moments to explain that only last weekend his girlfriend had decided to call it quits.

"That's surprising," Peggy said once he finished. "Not that she broke up with you, although I don't know why, you seem like a nice guy, but that she did it a week before Valentine's Day. Usually, it's the guy who does that to avoid having to spring for something extravagant for the holiday."

"I'm not totally sure, but I think she might have already made alternate plans for the weekend," Eric suggested.

"Oh, that's cold," Peggy noted.

Eric just shrugged his shoulders, thinking it was what it was.

The beers now consumed, the conversation seemed to reach a lull and Peggy glanced at her watch, taking note of the time.

"Well, it is getting a little late and tomorrow is going to be a busy day," she pointed out. "So maybe it's time to call it a night."

"I think that maybe I'll stay and have one more," Eric replied, "but please don't feel obligated to stay."

Curious as to whether there was a reason Eric seemed hesitant to go back to his room, Peggy made a joke, inquiring if his roommate had put a sock on the door.

"No, nothing like that," Eric laughed, having understood the reference. "I just, well, the truth is that the person I'm sharing the room with snores rather loudly. In fact, I only got a few hours' sleep last night."

"Oh, that's awful," Peggy expressed.

Eric replied with a 'what are you going to do' gesture.

"I'm guessing that you're hoping that having a few drinks in you might let you sleep through the noise," she conjectured.

"Something like that," Eric replied.

"Have you considered earplugs?" Peggy suggested. "They might have them in the hotel gift shop, and at least they don't come with a hangover."