How could she be making this up? He looked into her eyes as she explained things. She appeared guileless, and sincerely believed what she was telling him. And she clearly hadn’t taken leave of her senses. Thus, there was only one explanation. She was exactly who she said she was, a soul from over two hundred years in the future who could only stay fifty-two more days. That fact nearly shattered him.
Dear God, I’m going to lose her. More assuredly than if she had been Ceres.
He had come to love her. He’d allowed himself to hope she would marry him and stay with him forever. But that couldn’t happen.
He sighed and turned away from her. “Why did you decide to do this?”
“Benedict, if someone offered you the chance to see another time, if they told you you’d only be away from your own body for a minute and the only thing you had to do for it to happen was say a word and go to sleep, would you try it?”
He didn’t even have to think about it. He’d accept in the space of a heartbeat if there was a chance it would bring him to her. “Yes.”
“You see? It’s as I said, I feared regretting it forever if I didn’t try it.”
“What did you hope to find?”
Her face lit with the enthusiasm he had come to love. “This.” She spread her arms wide. “All of this. The chance to simply experience life in another time. I’m an author. I write love stories, a few of them have been set in the past. History fascinates me. I think it fascinates a lot of people because more and more books are being written about time travel.”
“I suppose so if it’s possible.”
“But it isn’t possible. What I mean is, most people think it isn’t possible. I thought it wasn’t possible. Still, it’s an intriguing idea. I thought how amazing it would be to write a time travel story, having actually travelled through time.”
“And you picked eighteenth century Venice?”
“I had no choice in the matter. I didn’t know where I would end up, but it didn’t matter. I just wanted to see what another time was really like. I could scarcely believe that I’d arrived in Venice. I had been in Venice just the previous day. It is still one of the most beautiful and romantic cities in the world.”
“So, you will use your experiences here to write a book?”
“Yes, I plan to. I even have an idea about how to accomplish the time-travel element.”
He cocked his head to one side. “Well that seems obvious. The pocket watch.”
“No. I can’t use the pocket watch. No one would believe the whole soul exchange thing, and it’s terribly hard to explain. I’m going to have a time portal.”
He couldn’t suppress a smile. “That’s more believable? Have you ever encountered a time portal?”
“No.”
“But you are here because of a pocket watch?”
“Yes.”
“But a time portal in more believable?”
She laughed. “I suppose it sounds silly, but yes. I think simply walking, body and soul, through a door in time will be easier to accept than people’s souls trading places.”
“I don’t know why. Souls enter and leave bodies every day. Outside of a body a soul exists in nothingness and can cross the threshold of heaven, hell, and purgatory. Why shouldn’t it be able to cross through time?”
“Then you believe me?”
He nodded. “I do.”
“Thank you. I…well…thank you. So, now you see why we can’t tell Cere’s father.”
“I believe that you exchanged souls with Ceres, but you can still experience this time and let Ceres’s father know she’s alive.”
“But she isn’t. Not really. She was meant to die. She made a choice that would have led to her certain death and when I leave, she will die. Maybe it’s better not to put her father through this agony twice. Ceres is gone. She is truly gone. I’m not Ceres. What’s more, even the thought of going to see her father fills me with dread. As I mentioned, Gertrude said some memories leak through. I am dead certain I need to avoid her father at all costs.”
“Sara, my life here is isolated and if you stayed here that would be fine, but you won’t experience much more of Venice if you do that. I also fear that your presence here won’t go unnoticed forever and it will eventually get back to your father. Even worse if you die here, I could be accused of murdering you.”
“No, I’ve already thought of that and I won’t let it happen. I have it all worked out. When the time comes, I will swim back into the Adriatic. Once I’m well away from this island, I will say the word. If Cere’s body is ever found, it will be consistent with what everyone already believes happened. If not…well, it doesn’t matter then.”
“I suppose you’re right. If you are going back maybe it is better to spare him a bit of pain.” He furrowed his brow. “There is more to this soul exchange business than first meets the eye. Having to decide how and when someone dies can’t be easy. While it seems like there’s nothing to lose when you’ve been offered the chance to use the pocket watch, I’ll warrant no one fully grasps the fact that they are having an impact on more than just themselves.”
She nodded somberly. “I think that is very true.” She was silent for a moment. “I know I probably shouldn’t ask this, but can I stay here with you and explore Venice until it’s time for me to leave?”
He wanted to say ‘no,’ to beg her to spare him the agony of seeing her every day all the while knowing she can never be his. But he coveted the little time he had left with her and wouldn’t turn his back on it. “Yes. You are welcome here.”
“Oh, Benedict,” she exclaimed jumping to her feet and hugging him. “This is wonderful and it’ll be so much fun. I’m so glad you know about the pocket watch. There will be no secret between us. It will almost be like having a brother again.”
She thought of him as a brother? Dear God, how much worse could this get? Then he realized exactly what she had said. “A brother again? Did something happen to him?”
~ * ~
Sara hadn’t planned on having to have this conversation, but once her hand was forced she was very thankful that she did. It made the whole situation simpler and he knew exactly where things stood before she did something foolish—like fall in love with him.
She liked Benedict. She liked him a lot. In fact, if she were being honest with herself, she was already falling in love with him and she had to stop that at all costs. Unfortunately, the romantic in her wanted to love and be loved so much that she constantly misread signals from the men she had dated. She believed she had fallen in love before—several times. Each time she was certain that the magical happy ending was just ahead, only to have her heart broken.
Now she found herself in another time, in a romantic city, with an extraordinarily handsome man who could have stepped out of the pages of one of her books. If she made the same mistake this time, and worse, decided to stay because of it, it would be devastating. The fact that he didn’t love her might be the least of her problems. And snuggling up with a pint of ice-cream and watching sappy movies until she had cried it all out, or whatever the eighteenth century equivalent of that was, wouldn’t fix things.
Besides, hadn’t she already fallen in love with Mark? Even as that thought occurred to her, it didn’t feel exactly right. She couldn’t quite put her finger on why.
Still, it didn’t really matter. She needed to protect herself by keeping him firmly in the “friend” realm. She actually believed he could be “like a brother” to her until the words tumbled out of her mouth. She didn’t feel remotely sisterly towards him.
“Sara, did you hear me?”
“I’m sorry, what?”
“You had a brother?”
Ugh. It still felt like a fist to her gut every time she thought about it. “Yes. He was eight years younger than me. But he and my parents were killed in a car accident.”
“What’s a car accident?”
“A car is like a carriage that doesn’t require horses. It uses an engine that bu
rns gas, but that technology won’t be invented for about a hundred years. Anyway, by the middle of the twentieth century, they became very popular and very powerful. They can travel at high speeds. Three years ago, we had all been to a band concert at his school. He played the trumpet. I was in graduate school at the time and lived in an apartment near the university, so I had driven myself. They were on their way home and a girl who was going way too fast and not paying attention to what she was doing drifted into their lane. Apparently, Dad swerved to miss her, spun out, and tumbled down an embankment.”
“And they were killed?”
“Not instantly.” Tears welled in her eyes. “My dad died within a few hours, but Mom and Josh were severely injured. Mom died after three days. Josh lived for eight more days after that.”
He put his arms around her. “Oh, Sara, I’m so sorry. Do you have any other family?”
“No. It’s just me now.” She rested her head against his chest and it felt oh, so good. Mark had never done this. She hadn’t met him yet when the accident occurred and if the subject arose, he rushed to change it to something less distressing. But she knew Benedict had suffered a similar loss. He understood.
“I know what it’s like to be alone. It must have been hard for you. It must be hard still.”
She nodded. “As time passes, it has gotten a little easier. The pain is still there, just not as sharp and intense.”
“Aye, it’s the same for me.” He kissed the top of her head. “I fear that pain will never go away completely, but we’ll grow stronger with time.”
No one had comforted her like this in a long time. But as much as she longed for it, if she gave in and allowed herself to love him, she’d have another loved one to mourn the loss of in a few weeks.
She stepped back, wiped her eyes and took a deep breath. “Thank you, Benedict. It’s been a busy day, and I’m bone weary. I’ll tell you more about the twenty-first century tomorrow but for now, I think I’ll bid you goodnight and find my bed.
He nodded. “Goodnight, Sara.”
“Goodnight.” She practically fled from the room and up the stairs.
Chapter 10 - Nothing to Lose
Sara had been tired. It was the good, satisfied kind of tired that signals a day where much has been accomplished. She had accomplished a lot. In addition to the laundry, she had dusted and swept the bedrooms before remaking the beds with the freshly laundered linens.
The rest of the laundry was a little daunting. Everything needed to be ironed. She knew that Benedict had someone else do his laundry, but surely his mother had had irons. Sara searched until she found them, shoved way to the back, on the bottom shelf in the pantry. They were black cast iron. She’d seen similar in antique shops and had knew enough from old pictures to get the gist of how they were used. She put them on the stove to heat.
She couldn’t find anything that looked like an ironing board, but she’d made do by putting towels on the kitchen work table. She used one iron until it cooled then switched to the other one. She’d started with her own undergarments, figuring that if she fouled it up too badly, the damage wouldn’t show. That was a good decision because she while she was now the proud owner of a scorched petticoat, she’d figured out that the fabric needed to be damp. The task took hours but allowed her lots of time to plan more of her new book. With no one in the house to hear her, she tried out bits of dialogue. She even decided on the title, The Passageway.
By the time she was done, it was time to fix supper. When the last pot was dried, she was tired, but very proud of all she’d accomplished.
Then Benedict told her about Ceres.
Now Sara lay in bed, her mind whirling with the consequences of having exchanged souls with someone.
Last week the entire experience had been a lark. Sara had been having a wonderful time and had even likened it all to a fantasy vacation. But there was one big flaw in that. When one went home after a brilliant vacation, new friends were not lost forever, no one died and no one was left to mourn a lost loved one.
She had convinced herself that because neither she nor Benedict knew who she was, she was actually just herself. But she wasn’t. She resided in Ceres Llewellyn’s body and the only thing she knew about the girl was that she wanted to avoid her father.
Then, too, Sara had convinced herself that Benedict was simply the source material for her next hero. But he wasn’t. He was a living, breathing, eighteenth century man who had been nothing but kind to her. But now he would have to deal with the consequences of her imminent death.
Perhaps she shouldn’t have asked him to let her stay there. Perhaps she should have just asked him to take her to Venice. She could have figured out some way to get by…at least for a few days if not the whole amount allotted. But she couldn’t bear the thought of that. The time she spent with him was nothing short of magical. She didn’t want to give that up yet. She also didn’t want love to get mixed up in this whole mess. Furthermore, she accepted the watch so that she could research this time and place. So she vowed to stay focused and avoid falling in love at all costs.
Eventually she fell asleep but her rest was disturbed by dreams she didn’t understand. She woke the next morning, still tired, but she got up and dressed quickly anyway. She wanted to see Benedict before he left for the Shipyard.
She had stoked the fire and had the kettle boiling before he came downstairs.
“You’re up early.”
“A little but I didn’t want to miss you this morning.”
He frowned. “You look tired. You don’t have to wake before I leave. I’m perfectly capable of making myself tea.”
“I know you are but I do like making meals for you.”
“I like that too. And I like fresh linens on the bed. I didn’t realize that you’d done the laundry until I went up for the night. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. You’ve provided me a home. It’s the least I can do.”
“Still, I don’t want you to wear yourself out. Go back to bed for a while now, and get some more rest.”
“I couldn’t sleep if I tried and I don’t want to. I wanted to ask you something.”
“Ask away.”
“I’d like for you to take me to Venice today.”
“I’d love to, but I really have to work. We’ll go again on Sunday.”
“I know you have to work and I’m not asking for you to escort me. I thought I’d just wander around a bit and see what things are like. You know, just ordinary life.”
“No, Sara. That is out of the question. You can’t wander around Venice alone. It isn’t safe.”
“It’s broad daylight. Nothing can happen.”
“All kinds of things could happen. Young women do not wander around Venice alone. You might be mistaken for a courtesan or worse a prostitute. You can go to Venice when I can stay with you. Not today.”
“Maybe I could dress as a boy. No one would pay any attention to me then.”
Benedict frowned.
“Please, Ben. I only have sixty days here, eight of which are gone. There are only seven Sundays left. That isn’t nearly enough time. The whole sixty days isn’t enough time. I can’t waste it.”
“I don’t think it’s a good idea. Even dressed as a boy something could happen to you.”
“Will you at least think about it?”
He sighed. “Yes, I’ll think about it.”
Sara decided not to press him more. After he’d thought about it, she’d have another chance. “Thank you, Ben.”
She fixed breakfast for him and packed a sandwich and fruit for his lunch. She smiled thinking cookies were needed. She’d try to bake some today.
~ * ~
Benedict couldn’t get Sara’s request off of his mind all day.
For that matter, he couldn’t get anything about Sara off of his mind. And every thought, every memory gouged at the spot in his heart he’d made for her that he now feared would be empty forever.
He forced himself to remember tha
t she was simply here to learn. She had to leave. Maybe he should let her do as she wished. He had no authority over her.
But what if something happened to her? He’d never forgive himself.
And so, the circular argument with himself continued incessantly until the workday was over. By which time he’d accomplished little. He sailed across the lagoon and still hadn’t made a decision by the time he walked up to the house from the dock. Seeing the light shining from the kitchen caused his heart to ache afresh. She had become a light in his life. He had let himself imagine this, coming home every day, for the rest of his life, to Sara.
As she had the previous day, Sara had prepared a wonderful meal. She didn’t raise the subject of going to Venice during dinner and he’d half hoped she’d changed her mind or forgotten it. But that was a vain hope.
After dinner, she poured them both a cup of tea and put a plate of something she called snickerdoodles, on the table between them.
“Ben, have you thought any more about me spending time in Venice?”
Ben. She’d started calling him that and he liked it. “It seems I’ve thought of nothing but that today. Sara, it just isn’t safe.”
“Even as a boy?”
“Even as a boy.”
She turned her head away, clearly frustrated. “I think you are taking this too seriously.”
“It’s your life I’m worried about. I don’t think it’s possible to take that too seriously.”
Looking directly at him again,- she said, “I am smart and resourceful. I think I can manage to stay out of trouble. But the truth is, I am going to die anyway. If I get into a bad spot and push comes to shove, I can always say the return word and go home early.”
That thought tore at his heart. He didn’t want her to go home early. He didn’t want her to go at all. “If you do that, you won’t even have your seven Sundays.”
The Choice: The Pocket Watch Chronicles Page 8
