Chasing Time: A Love Through Time Novel

by Stephany Wallace

  She saw him open his book, and continued reading while he walked. He seemed completely engrossed in the story, as though she hadn’t even crossed his path. She chuckled. He was definitely a peculiar one. Facing the building once again, she opened the door and battled the suitcases to get them to her room.

  “Oh, thank God! It’s on the first floor.” She huffed, taking the keys out of the envelope, once she had reached her door.

  A small room with a window, a bathroom, a desk, and a single bed greeted her when she walked in. She sighed, relieved to have a room to herself, and closed the door behind her.

  After her shower, she slipped into her Pj’s and lay on the bed. The moment she did, all the exhaustion and emotions she had pushed aside came rushing back. Jonathan’s face, his smile, danced in front of her eyes and they instantly teared up.

  “I love you, Jonathan,” she whispered, and turned to hide her face on the pillow. The tears once more slid down her cheeks, while loneliness engulfed her.

  The room was dark when Samantha’s eyes fluttered open. They were a bit sensitive from crying herself to sleep. Yet, she had at least managed to rest eight hours straight. She sat down and took a deep breath, her eyes settling on the nightstand. The clock displayed 5:05pm just as her stomach growled. She was starving. After slipping into her jeans, a red t-shirt, and Converse shoes, she picked up her hair in a ponytail, and stepped out with her map in hand, looking for a place to eat. She was glad she had gotten a chance to go to the currency exchange window at the airport, and change all her money to pounds, but she still needed to get used to them.

  She got to the main hall, and asked the dorm manager about the possibility of having a phone in her room. She needed to call her Dad, let him know she arrived well, and was all settled in. After filling out the paperwork, the lady informed her that she could be issued a handset and the phone line in her room could be activated. However, the process could take up to seven working days after checkin, Samantha couldn’t wait that long. She needed to call Frank tonight. She found a newspaper stand, and got a calling card, it would have to do for now. Getting into one of the prettiest red phone booths she had ever seen, she dialed the number. Nothing. Frank didn’t answer. She sighed, remembering the time difference.

  “Dad must be at the factory already,” hanging up, she dialed again.

  “Hello?” Jonathan’s voice sounded on the other end. She couldn’t speak. She wanted to because she needed him. Really needed him, but she stayed silent.

  “Hello? Sam?” His voice came again. There was urgency in it. Need.

  She hung up. Remaining inside the booth she rested her back to the cabin’s wall, and took slow breaths. Trying with everything she had, to keep the tears at bay. When she finally managed it, she opened her eyes and noticed a restaurant right up front.

  “Cafe Rouge,” she read out loud. Her stomach growled in response, reminding her of her priorities. She chuckled, and stepped out the phone cabin, walking towards it. Bright red wooden panels, that surrounded two big windows, a narrow red-wooden door with gold accents, and white awnings with the café’s name on it adorned the front. It looked innocent enough, but as she entered the place her eyes widened in shock. It sort of reminded her of one the taverns in Cambridge, with a tiny little difference. Everything here was so much more elegant. There was crown molding everywhere. The tables were dressed in luxurious white linens, there was a beautiful wood carved bar that took about half the place on one side, and opulent lamps hanging from the ceiling. There were golden sconces on the burgundy walls that seemed to be covered with particularly expensive wallpaper. Candles and flower vases were on every table. Everywhere she looked she saw elegance, distinction, and dollar signs. This was definitely not the place. She had hoped to have a sandwich or something simple, but this? This was too much. She whirled around, trying get out before they charged her for standing in it too long, and crashed into a man who was entering the café. The two books he had held in his hands. She grabbed him, holding onto him tight as they almost toppled over. Her eyes fell on his face. She was both startled, and mortified.

  “Oh, my God. I’m so sorry!” She said, ashamed, but was greeted by a warm smile. It was then noticed she was leaning against him, her hands still holding on to his jacket, in a death grip. Embarrassed, she lifted her hands from it, one finger at a time, and smoothed over the wrinkles on his lapels nervously, then took a step back.

  He chuckled. “You know, we should stop meeting like this,” the man said, and bent down to pick up his books. He raised his gaze to hers, and she stared at him confused. He smiled. “I’m Christopher, we met this morning. I helped you with your luggage after we collided with one another?”

  She finally snapped out of it and smiled, internally kicking herself for her stupidity. Of course she knew who he was.

  “I know. I’m so sorry, Christopher. It just took me by surprise seeing you here, that’s all.”

  “Understandable. Have you come here for tea? You picked the right place. You’ll love it.”

  “Tea? No, not really. I was hoping to have some dinner,” she answered, confused. Did British people really go to a fancy restaurant just to drink tea?

  He chuckled. “My apologies, tea means dinner to us.”

  “Oh, ok,” she glanced back at the place. “Uhm, yes I came to eat. I was just hoping to get a sandwich or something, though. Not a sit down dinner. I guess I walked into the wrong place.”

  “Are you kidding? They have the best sandwiches in town. Come with me,” he said, held her hand, and pulled her along as he began walking through the restaurant.

  Too shocked to react, she just let him guide her. What was it with this guy? They had just met, and he was grabbing her hand as if he had known her forever. Holding her hand like Jonathan used to do. Her throat constricted, as the thought crossed her mind. The contact however, brought another realization with it. Christopher holding her hand didn’t at all feel awkward. It felt… nice. He turned around, smiling at her as they made their way to the back of the restaurant. He looked like a kid about to show his ultimate magic trick. Before she realized it, she was smiling back, and hurrying behind him. She briefly frowned as they approached a set of red-wooden double doors. Where was he taking her? Were they going to an alley? They walked through them, and she suddenly came to a halt. She was completely taken aback by the beauty and serenity of the place; she could do nothing but stare. She was standing in a garden, at the back of the restaurant. A private garden, with a few small ornate iron tables. There was only a couple siting in one of the tables to their left, and them. It was a truly gorgeous garden. Quiet, with a birdbath style fountain in the center. Stone benches sat around it, forming a circle. Trees surrounded the garden, enclosing the space and giving it privacy. There were antique, iron light posts throughout, that paired with the colorful flowerpots intricately placed, turned the garden into a dream hideaway. A sanctuary. He squeezed her hand, bringing her back to the present.

  “Isn’t it great? It is so unexpected, it’s brilliant,” he said, and showed her the books in his hand. “I come here to read. You will accompany me today, yes?”

  She looked at him and smiled. Even if she had any desire to say no, she wouldn’t be able to. This place made her feel as if she was standing in one of the hidden gardens near the pond back at home.

  “Yes.”

  They sat at the table, and Christopher waived the waiter over to place their order.

  “I’ll have the Chicken BLT, please, with a fresh lemonade.”

  “I’ll have the same,” she said looking at the books he had carried. Sense and Sensibility, and Persuasion, lay at the table next to his hand. “Jane Austen?” She asked, surprised.

  He smiled, knowingly. “I am absolutely obsessed with the classics.”

  She nodded, chuckling. “Yeah, she is the best.”

  “Yes, Yes! A thousand times yes!” He said, quoting Pride and Prejudice then gave her a crooked smile, and winked at her.

&
nbsp; A true smile curved Samantha’s lips, and she chuckled. Her original assessment of him had been more than correct. He was unquestionably a peculiar man.

  “So, how has it been so far coming to Oxford?” He asked, exaggerating the pronunciation of the last word.

  “Amazing, it’s more than I could ever have imagined. So regal, such intricate architecture, so much history,” she answered with a smile.

  Yet, he couldn’t help but feel the undertone of sadness in her. It tugged at his heart. Confused, he continued the conversation. “So what are you here to study?”

  “Well, I’m going to be getting my PhD in Comparative Literature, however, that is not the main reason I’m here,” she chuckled when he frowned. “I’m one of the new Assistant Professors for the English Language, and Literature Faculty.”

  His eyes lit up in recognition. “Of course, your name is Samantha. You must be Samantha Johnson.”

  She looked at him, incredulous. “You know who I am?”

  Christopher gave her a crooked smile. “Yes, I’ve been stalking you,” her eyes widened and he busted out laughing. He shook his head. “I’m only joking, of course! I know who you are because everyone in the English Faculty has heard about the girl that’s coming from Harvard. Your published works are exquisite, and you come with a summa cum laude in History and Literature, not to mention you already speak five languages. There’s a lot of fuss about you in the faculty, Samantha. We were expecting you. Although, for a moment there we thought you wouldn’t come after all.”

  Samantha smiled, incredulous. “Ok, that doesn’t make me feel intimidated. At all,” he chuckled. “I changed my mind at the last minute,” she added, looking down as the events from two days ago crossed her mind. She looked back up at him, and changed the subject. “So, do you go to the English Faculty as well?”

  He nodded. “Oh, there’s our food,” he announced.

  Samantha turned around, to find the waiter approaching them with the tray filled of the most delicious looking sandwiches she had ever seen. “Oh my god, they are huge!” she squealed, and heard him laugh as the plates were placed on the table.

  After they ate, she was pleased to find herself having a nice time with Christopher. They spoke about school mostly, which was nice and distracting. She was relieved to have someone to talk to.

  “So, any advice you can give me about the faculty?”

  He thought about it for a second. “Well, all the professors are very nice and knowledgeable. You’ll certainly enjoy working there and learning from them, although truth be told, maybe a couple might actually learn from you,” he said winking at her. She chuckled, as he continued. “Professor Charles, is absolutely delightful. You’ll like her. She is a bit of a know it all, but she’s nice to have around. Professor Ainsworth, however, is extremely pleasant. He’s intelligent and very witty. I bet you’ll like him the best. There is one person you have to beware of, however. Professor Collingwood, Georgina Collingwood. Be careful with that one.”

  “Really?” she asked, suddenly worried.

  “Yes, I’m afraid so. They call her the Queen of Hearts. After she gives you one of those horrid looks she’s known for, you could almost hear her in your mind going ‘off with their heads!’”

  They continued to laugh and talk as the evening unwound… The night arrived before they realized it, and they began their way back to the dorms. Samantha couldn’t believe she had spent four hours with him just talking and laughing. It felt nice to laugh. He was definitely a funny one. She was glad to have at least made one friend here.

  Suddenly, Christopher stopped and turned to face her smiling, and interrupting her thoughts. She looked up and noticed they had arrived at her building.

  “You’ve been quiet the past few minutes.”

  Samantha nodded, and offered him an apologetic smile. “It’s been hard leaving America.”

  “Left a lot behind, did you?”

  Taking a deep breath, she nodded, trying to hold back the emotions that were fighting to come out. He reached for her, and held her hand tenderly in his.

  “I know how that feels, and only time will ease your discomfort, but if it helps, you have a new friend in me,” he said, bringing her hand up to his lips, and kissing it.

  She blushed. “You have a very strong accent,” she answered, trying to distract him from her embarrassment. No one had ever kissed her hand before.

  He laughed. “Well dude, I don’t know what to tell you. It’s like the way I talk,” he said, faking an American accent, and they busted out laughing. “Would you fancy for me to speak that way?”

  Samantha shook her head laughing. “No! That was horrible! Never do that again,” she gave him a playful push on the chest and he laughed taking a couple steps back, after losing his balance.

  His smile became heartwarming. “Goodnight, Samantha.”

  She returned the smile. “Goodnight, Christopher,” she said, and walked into the dorm.

  After taking a shower and slipping into her pj’s, she opened the closet deciding to take her clothes out of her luggage. She unzipped her suitcase and Jonathan’s sweatshirt, stared back at her. All it took was one look, and all the pain came crashing down on her at once. The tears spilled from her eyes while the hurt inside her found a way to escape. She hugged his sweatshirt, and curled up on the bed. Crying, as another lonely night engulfed her.

  Monday morning arrived and Samantha woke up groggy. The throbbing in her temples made for a much more efficient alarm clock than the one trying to split her head in two. She hit the snooze button and looked down at her hand. She was still hugging his sweatshirt. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She hated feeling pathetic. After spending all Saturday night, and Sunday crying the whole day, except for the time she ordered pizza, that was exactly how she felt. Pathetic. Her eyes returned to her alarm clock as the alarm blared for the third time. She was about to slam the snooze button again when she noticed the time. It was 8:15am.

  “Crap! I’m so late,” she yelled, rushing to the bathroom.

  She was scheduled to meet the Board of Professors at the English Faculty at 9:00am, and she was supposed to deliver the “ten thousand forms” she had been required to fill out to the main office before even getting to the faculty. After taking the fastest shower in the history of mankind, clothes began to fly all over the room. She was struggling to find something to wear. Spending more time than she had on the task, she settled for a pair of jeans, an orange short sleeve, cotton blouse, and a cream cardigan. She got dressed, put her brown Converse shoes on, and picked up her wet hair into a messy bun. Glasses in place and bag in hand, she grabbed the map and ran out the door.

  Literally running to the St. Cross building, Samantha noticed Christopher walking through the campus. She passed him, and turned around, jogging backwards for a moment.

  “Hey!” She shouted.

  “Hey, to you too! Why are you running?” He asked, amused.

  “I’m late, so late…”

  “And you have a very important date?” He added, with a wink.

  She laughed. “I’m sorry, I can’t stop. I have to go!”

  She turned again and picked up her pace. Samantha reached the building, and noticed it was one of the most modern ones on the campus. It was big and imposing, modern but still beautiful. She ran up the stairs, and got inside panting from the effort it took her to run there. She was not an athletic kind of woman. She took deep breaths and looked around for someone who could help her. Blowing on the strands of hair, that had come loose from her bun after her impromptu marathon, she walked towards someone in the far hallway.

  “Excuse me, would you mind telling me where the lecture theatres are?”

  “Of course, just take the second door on the left hand. Then go approximately 2/3 of the way up the stairs. That will bring you into the main core of the building. Then down the stairs, again. Most of the lecture theatres are located off that atrium.”

  Samantha stared at the lady as if
she had just grown a second head. “Those are the worst directions she could have possibly given me,” she thought, and turned to see the door the lady had pointed towards. “Thank you,” she answered anyway, and ran.

  Taking a few wrong turns, she finally managed to get to the atrium and the second set of stairs. The doors to the different theatres were to her right. She looked at the paper.

  “Ok, Lecture Theatre 2,” she said out loud, and searched for the corresponding door. Standing outside, she fixed her clothes and looked at her watch.

  “9:15am, nothing like being late on your first work day. The perfect first impression!” She scolded herself, took a deep breath and walked in.

  Gathered at the front of the room was the board of professors, they were actively engaged in conversation. They didn’t notice her, as she came out of the hallway and into the main room. She noticed the rows of seats on her right. They went all the way to the top where the students would normally be seated. The room was modern, yet there were beautiful wood accents throughout. It wasn’t too big but it was impressive. The height of the ceiling alone was a sight to observe. She had never been this intimidated in her life.

  “Well, it’s so gracious of you to finally honor us with your presence, Miss Johnson.”

  The cold, unyielding voice stopped her in her tracks. Samantha turned slowly, swallowing her rising anxiety as she faced the professors. An older lady, around sixty-one years old was standing front and center of the room. Her red hair was styled up, in an elegant twist. She had a silk blouse on and a cream blazer, a brown pencil skirt and leather pumps. She was beautiful, but there was an undertone to her face that dimmed the beauty. She seemed cold… bitter. Her imposing stance exuded authority, and demanded respect. Samantha swallowed, again and stepped closer.

  “Please allow me to apologize for being late. My alarm clock did not go off this morning. There might have been a problem with the battery. It will not happen again.”

  Even as the words left her mouth, she cringed. That had to be one of the most pathetic explanations she had ever given. Her hands slightly trembled waiting for the woman to respond.