by Kristy Tate
Celia looked around. The Hall farmhouse standing on the other side of the fields looked empty and abandoned. Judson would probably be at work, but Celia wondered about his sister, Ella. “Maybe we should wait for Joel. I mean, we don’t even know if Judson talked to his mom and dad, and it is their barn, after all.”
Jason raised his eyebrows. “And you think they’ll mind if we look around?”
“Well, they probably won’t know, because they’re in Florida.”
“Huh. So…” he pointed at the barn, “shall we?”
Celia stepped closer to Jason and whispered, “I’ve always been a little scared of Judson’s sister.”
Jason’s lips twitched, but Celia was glad he didn’t laugh. “And she might be here?” he asked.
Celia lifted one shoulder in a shrug.
“Is Joel also terrified—”
“I didn’t say I was terrified.”
“Okay, so should I be terrified?”
“I don’t know…maybe…especially since you’re scared of the Rifleman.”
“Come on, let’s just go look,” Jason urged her.
“Joel should be here any minute,” she mumbled as she headed for the barn. Drawing closer, she saw a lock and chain secured the doors.
Neither of them spoke for a few minutes. Celia listened to the call of birds and the sound of the breeze stirring the trees. Leaves tumbled through the air. The woods glowed in autumn colors, beckoning.
“I know, let’s go in the woods,” Jason said. “Maybe we can find the Witching Well. It’s supposed to be somewhere around here. My cousin said he and his friends used to spend hours looking for it, but it’s not as if we’re doing anything else. Besides, we’ll hear the truck as soon as they turn down the drive.”
Celia knew Gabe’s friends. “I think Gabe and gang were probably doing more than well hunting in the woods.”
“Gabe and gang?”
Celia shrugged. “It’s what Becca and Lacey used to call them.”
“Did you ever go with them? You grew up here, right?” He turned toward a path that cut through the long grass and headed for the woods. He motioned for her to follow, and she did with dragging feet.
“No. I lived with my dad in California until I graduated from high school. I didn’t come here to stay until after college. Before that, I was just a visitor.” Celia looked down at her flip-flops. Not the best walking shoes.
“What happened? What brought you back?”
Celia considered this. “My mom got sick, and I felt that I didn’t know her as well as I thought I should. That wasn’t really my fault—I was just a kid. But she got sick and needed help running the shop…”
“So, you came.”
“I wasn’t purely altruistic. It was a job, and I know you’ll find this surprising, but it’s hard to find fashion design jobs in a down economy.” She tramped through the tall grass, trying to ignore the twigs poking at her feet. “Besides, it gave me a chance to be with my family.”
Jason stopped at the edge of the woods and faced her. “I have to warn you about the Witching Well. If you’re petrified of Judson’s sister—”
Celia cast another glance at the road. Where was Joel? “I didn’t say I was petrified.”
“Okay, if you’re fossilized—”
“Fossilized, really? I don’t even think that’s a word.”
“I’ve done some research.” Jason nodded, his expression trying to be serious, but she saw laughter and something else in his gaze. “Legend has it that the Witching Well waters are magic.”
“Magic?”
Jason nodded again. “I can tell by your face that you’re a skeptic.” He held up his hand to stop her from interrupting. “But I’m warning you to keep your doubts to yourself. Skeptics and naysayers aren’t warmly welcomed in these woods.”
“Why were you researching a magic well?” A tingle, probably the same one that visited when she had that strange dream and saw the sketchbook, crawled up Celia’s back. She rubbed both of her arms, trying to warm them.
“I like history.”
She glanced around. “Where’s Joel? We need to unload the truck.”
“Try calling him.”
“Oh, good plan. Except I never carry my phone.”
“You have to be the only member of the Y generation that isn’t addicted to her phone.”
Celia shrugged, hating to admit that it’s a whole lot easier to overcome an addiction if you don’t have any—or very little—money.
He pulled his phone out of his pocket. “Here, use mine.”
She pressed Joel’s number and waited. When it went to voicemail, she tried first Becca and then Lacey. No one answered. She looked at the phone in disbelief. Why did she feel as if she’d been set-up? With dragging feet, she followed Jason into the woods.
It wasn’t that she didn’t trust him. Well, she didn’t trust him—with her money. She did trust him with her safety—not that there was anything life-threatening about the woods. They were beautiful in a sun-kissed, shadow-dappled way. The trees stretched their balding branches toward the sky, and leaves cartwheeled around them.
Celia had to stop when the homecoming feeling returned. The deja vu sensation hit so hard, she sat on a fallen log. When Jason turned her way, she took off a flip-flop and shook out the twigs that had attached to it.
“Sorry, these aren’t hiking boots.”
She didn’t really want to stop. She wanted to see the well. It was almost as if an invisible force pulled her forward. Slipping her sandal back on, she stood to follow Jason deeper into the woods.
They climbed a small hill and Jason paused at the top. He looked at her with a steady gaze. “Celia, if I were to say to you stand and deliver, what would you say?”
Celia’s mind raced. “You don’t really believe in the stories about the Witching Well, do you?”
“Of course not.” But his expression said he did.
“So, even if we found it, you wouldn’t drink from it?”
“That depends.”
“On what?”
“On what you would say if I asked you to stand and deliver.” He stepped closer and reached for her hand.
Tingles zinged up her arm. Memories of his kiss flooded through her. The woods reminded her of another place and time, a place she thought only existed in her mind. The only real thing about that dream stood right in front of her. What did he know about the highwayman? Nothing… How could he? And yet, why did he ask her to stand and deliver…again?
Sounds of the woods enveloped her—birds calling to the trees, leaves singing in the wind, a nearby stream gurgling, but Jason didn’t make a sound. He held himself still as if braced. She pulled him against her and lifted her face.
“This is just an experiment,” she murmured.
He bent his head and touched his lips to hers, gently, as if asking a dozen questions that Celia didn’t know how to answer. Her body relaxed against him as if she perfectly fit all his angles and curves.
Yes. This is what she remembered. She expected him to turn away, to break their bond, but instead, he deepened the kiss. Celia’s knees turned weak, her head spun, and she didn’t think she could form a coherent thought, until Jason pulled away and rested his forehead against hers.
“What were the results?” Jason whispered. “What have you concluded?”
Celia took a ragged breath. “Inconclusive,” she whispered. “I’ll need more data.”
“Do you think finding the Witching Well will help?”
“Do you…have you been to the Witching Well?”
“No.” He hesitated. “I haven’t been there…but…”
“Yeah, me, too.”
Jason moved just a breath away, but absence of his warmth chilled Celia. He touched her lip with his thumb, and jolted her already woozy senses.
“Is this real?” she asked. “Can any of this be real?” She reached into her pocket, pulled out his tie, and handed it to him.
“Tell me about stand a
nd deliver.” When he took the tie from her, their fingers touched and the now familiar zing happened again.
She blinked at him, afraid of sounding crazy—or crazier. “You mean when you pointed a gun at me?”
“Or when you hit me in the head with a tree branch?”
“How could you be in my delusion?” Celia asked, hearing the wonder and questions in her own voice.
“You were—are—the center of my dreams.”
“But…a kiss and a weird Twilight Zone episode can’t be the basis of a relationship.”
“But it could be the start of one…if you let it.” Jason took her hand. “Let’s find the Witching Well.”
“Okay,” the word whooshed from Celia. She took a long steadying breath. “But first, let’s try another experiment.”
Jason gathered her in his arms, and all thoughts of science, alkaloids, history or witches, fled as Celia abandoned herself to his kiss.
A crow called overhead. Jason stepped away, and Celia reached for him, but something had captured his attention.
“There it is.” He pointed into a thicket of alders.
At first, it just looked like an outcropping of boulders poking through the forest of ferns, but then Celia noticed the symmetrical design of the rough-hewn rocks.
“There used to be a sign carved in the stone.” Jason left the path, carefully picking his way through the underbrush. He reached the well, squatted in front of it, and found a small rock to brush moss and lichen off the largest, most central stone.
Celia trailed after Jason, her gaze fixed on the well. What was the draw? Was it just her imagination? Or did the well really have powers? She read the words silently, almost afraid to speak them aloud.
By these waters we do sleep
Clothed in night with secrets deep.
Lady Moon who doth guide our dreams,
Shroud us in your silvery beams.
Take us to the distant past
A time when hearts forged bonds held fast.
“I wonder how old this is,” Celia said after she found her voice.
“You want to try it?”
Celia shook her head. “No. Do you?”
“Hey, I’m afraid of the Rifleman and haunted wells.”
“Makes sense,” Celia said, drawing near. “The ruthless and bullies are always the most cowardly.”
“Hey, I’m not ruthless, and I’m not a bully.” Jason closed the distance between them. “I know you don’t believe me, but your grandmother willingly signed over the lease. No one was twisting her arm, or bullying her.” He raked his fingers through his hair. “What can I do to make you forgive me?”
Celia sighed. Part of her wanted to forgive Jason and another part of her wanted to wrap herself up in her anger so that she couldn’t get hurt. Another larger, hungrier part, wanted to pull him to her, and press against him…
“I forgive you,” she mumbled. “I’m just not sure I trust you.” And I’m pretty sure I don’t trust myself.
“Well, I guess that’s something,” Jason said. “Can I win your trust?”
Celia squished her lips together, considering. “How are you going to do that?”
“I don’t know. I thought I would start with helping you move your grandmother’s shop into a barn.”
“That’s an okay start,” Celia said.
“And maybe I would follow that up with dinner?”
The ground beneath her shoes was squishy and damp. “It’s a spring,” she said, pointing at the water gurgling over the stones. Mud oozed around her flip-flops. “It looks just like my great-grandmother’s drawing.”
“I wonder why Gabe and his friends couldn’t find it? It’s pretty obvious. Not really off the road at all.”
Celia’s gaze lingered on the words, Take us to a distant time/ When love and hearts combine. “Notice how the poem uses plural pronouns?” Celia asked. “It doesn’t use I or me, but us and we.”
The observation hung between them and silence fell.
After a moment, Jason said, “So, you think only couples…”
“We’re not a couple,” Celia put in.
“A couple can be defined as two.” Jason pointed at her. “One.” And then pointed at himself. “Two.”
Celia nodded. “It doesn’t matter how or why we found it. We just did.” She turned to face him. “Do you want to try it? Just as an experiment?”
“I really liked the last experiment,” Jason said, taking her hand and pulling her to the Witching Well.
He stepped closer. “Dinner—if not tonight then tomorrow?”
She took an instinctive step back. “Do we have to go Kate’s?”
Jason closed the distance between them. “No, we don’t have to get a Colossal Kate. We could get a mid-size Maxine.”
“I don’t think there’s such thing as a mid-size Maxine. Ow!” She squealed as something pierced her. Lifting her foot and bracing it on her knee, she pulled a thorn from her heel. Blood stained her flip-flop.
“Here, let me see,” Jason said, stepping forward and taking her elbow.
“I’m fine,” Celia hopped away from him and sat down at the edge of the well. “No biggie,” she said as she tried to blink back the sudden tears.
“You’re bleeding,” Jason argued, nodding at her dirty foot. “You need to wash it.”
Celia hesitated, knowing he was right and yet unsure…Slowly, she rotated so that her feet hung over the side of the Witching Well. What if…
Jason peeled off his T-shirt. “Just rinse off your foot. You can use my shirt as a bandage.”
Celia tried not to look at Jason’s chest. “That’s a really big bandage for a little wound.”
“Celia, just so you know,” Jason grinned and sat beside her, “when a guy takes off his clothes, it’s not polite to use the word little.”
Celia flushed and kept her eyes on her muddy, bloody foot. “I’ll ruin your shirt.”
Jason shrugged. “For about the cost of a Colossal Kate, I can get a new one.”
“I’ll buy you one,” Celia said, dangling her foot above the water. She swallowed. “If I go back in time, will you go with me?”
“You won’t go back in time.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“Whatever happened before, it was a weird Twilight Zone one-off. It won’t happen again.”
“But if it does—you’ll come, too. Promise?”
“If it really makes you nervous—don’t risk it.” He stood. “Climb on my back. I’ll carry you to Judson’s barn.”
Celia stared at him. “You can’t carry me all the way to the barn.”
“Yes I can.”
“Don’t be silly.”
Jason pressed his hand against his heart. “I’m being silly? If you would just rinse off your foot…”
Celia swung her legs back around, and tried to stand, but her flip-flops skidded in the mud and her feet went out from under her. Twirling her arms like an off-balanced windmill, she fell. Jason reached for her, but she slipped through his hands. Her head struck stone and pain shuddered through her.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Jason fumbled to grab Celia. Reaching for her hands, her shirt, or anything that would prevent her fall, all he could think was, if she doesn’t hate me now, she will after this.
Her head landed with a smack on the rocks, and her body slid into the well. Soon, all he could see of her was a floating mass of red hair in the dark water. Jason dropped to the ground, lying prone in the dirt, he reached for Celia, but he knew it was pointless. At that angle, he’d never be able to lift her out.
After kicking off his shoes, tossing his phone and wallet from his pockets, Jason sank into the well. His only goal—lift Celia’s head above the water and make sure she could breathe. Something tugged on his feet. Jason struggled and kicked, but his head went under and as it did, he swallowed a gulp of the well water. It tasted clear, and surprisingly clean, but he still came up sputtering.
The water felt colder, as if
someone had dropped buckets of ice into the well. A quick glance at the sky and the brilliant stars told him everything had changed.
Another sharp tug on his ankle. Jason kicked loose, and to his surprise, someone surfaced beside him. Celia. She had a mouth full of water that she blew in his face before she laughed at him.
At least she wasn’t dead.
But maybe he was. Had he died? Was this his warped vision of heaven? Skinny-dipping with Celia? She swam to the shore, her arms splashing through the dark water. As she pulled herself out, he saw that she still wore her T-shirt and cut-off jeans. Same Celia, but everything else was definitely different.
He kicked through the water, trying to fight back childhood fairytales of sea monsters and mythical creatures. If time-travel was real—and he had to concede it was—why not Loch Ness Monsters and dragons?
Celia hugged herself and shivered, making him wish he had something to give her to keep her warm, but he didn’t even have a shirt.
“What happened?” she asked.
“The Witching Well happened.” Even in his own ears, his voice sounded as dark and dreary as the night.
“You said it wouldn’t.”
“Obviously I was wrong.”
Celia looked around. “Where do you think we are?”
“When is a better W question.”
Celia sniffed and Jason did the same, hoping his nose could tell him something that his other senses couldn’t. The air smelled of the woods, with a tinge of burning pine.
“Maybe we’re in Connecticut…” Celia said.
Jason shook his head, and water sprayed from his hair.
Celia flinched from him.
“I’m sorry,” Jason said.
“Me, too,” Celia said.
Jason froze as he heard voices.
“Egad!” Someone in the nearby woods exclaimed, sending chills down Jason’s spine. He knew that voice—but he couldn’t place it. He glanced at Celia, trembling with shivers. Putting his arms around her, he drew her close. She quivered against him.
“Shh,” he whispered in her ear, before taking her hand and leading her into a nearby thicket of trees.
She hobbled beside him, favoring her foot.
“About time you show your face!” Another, eerily familiar sounding voice spoke.
