Shifting Sideways: The Rift

by Jennah Sharpe

  Sawyer led her to a bench to scope out their surroundings. For only a moment they rested to catch their breath before Sawyer stood and pulled her hand.

  “Get up on the bench, Charlie.”

  “What?” she asked as he jumped up on the wooden slats of the bench and pulled her up to join him.

  Charlotte stood transfixed by the sight that met her eyes.

  “Look out there,” he said as if she hadn’t already noticed. “What do you think?”

  The harbor was full of tall ships, masts raised. Every inch of rope and mast was lined with sparkling white lights. The ripples of the sea reflected the lights providing an effect that rivaled the most glorious night sky.

  “It’s beautiful,” she whispered.

  Somehow, through all the noise of the people below them, he heard her.

  “Not nearly as beautiful as you are,” he responded quietly. Charlotte’s gaze locked with his. The lights and the sea reflected in his eyes as if he were a part of the whole experience.

  “If we find a way home for you…” His gaze was serious and steady, but his voice trailed off.

  Charlotte could find no response. She missed her home so desperately, but here, in Sawyer’s world, she was someone different, someone who felt independent and adventurous. She could only guess what he’d been about to say.

  “I…I don’t—”

  “Don’t say anything,” he interrupted. “It’s not time.” His hand brushed over hers where it lay on his arm. Turning her hand over, he absently rubbed her palm as he watched the ships slowly rocking on the water.

  She closed her mouth and turned from him. Mouth watering scents reached her nose and she was suddenly quite hungry.

  “Sawyer, are those crepes? Those smell like chocolate crepes.” She released his arm, hiked up her skirts and jumped down from the bench.

  All awkwardness dissipated and he quickly followed her. “They’re a staple during festivals here.”

  “Now that’s an inspired idea,” she cooed. “Let’s go get one.”

  They stood side by side, watching as the crepe maker swirled his batter thinly over his skillet, before flipping it in the air and browning the opposite side. It was spread with the most delicious dark chocolate and rolled inside a piece of parchment paper. Sawyer ordered one for each of them. Many others gathered around, drawn by the sweet scent wafting on the breeze.

  The crepes were the most savory treat she’d ever tasted. It was as if she hadn’t eaten in days. In fact, when she thought about it, they hadn’t eaten since the breakfast Sawyer so generously made that morning.

  Sawyer seemed to be able to read her mind. Either that, or he was just as hungry as she, because when Charlotte finished licking chocolate from her fingers, he had another crepe ready for her.

  They walked slowly through the streets, not speaking, as music seemed to come from all around them. Sawyer led Charlotte to the wooden railing overlooking the harbor waters. He rested his hands on the top rail while she leaned her back against it, facing the crowds.

  She knew he was thinking of something other than the festivities. Gazing out at the glittering waters, his face was stoic and worried.

  “What’s going on, Sawyer?” she asked, lightly touching his arm. “What aren’t you telling me?”

  He sighed and a tremor ran up his arm where her hand lay.

  He wet his lips and squeezed his eyes shut. “I’m just not sure what to do.” He turned to her. “I’ve never felt this way before.”

  “No, I don’t imagine you have,” she said softly.

  “Tomorrow, we head into Newburg. You won’t be safe here alone, and I’m not comfortable taking you with me.”

  “Why not? What’s in Newburg that’s so dangerous you won’t take me there? I survived being there once remember?”

  He looked her in the eye. “Oh, I remember. But you wouldn’t have survived long. Either that or you would have been captured.”

  Charlotte didn’t know how to respond. She watched his face as the muscles in his jaw twitched.

  “I don’t trust my brother,” he said almost under his breath.

  She had a hard time reading him because he was staring at the boats again.

  “Is that why you won’t leave me here?”

  “He thinks you’re a danger to our rebellion. He’d as soon kill you as buy you a dress.”

  He turned to her then, letting his gaze roam from her bare shoulders, down to her slippered feet. She didn’t miss the look of longing in his eyes. She reached up to stroke his cheek.

  “I’m staying with you, Sawyer. You’ve kept me safe this long. I get bad vibes from your brother, and I definitely don’t want to stay at the house with him.”

  He closed his eyes, reveling in the sensations that racked his body when she touched him.

  “I suppose that settles it. You’ll come to Newburg with us. As much as I want to see you somewhere safe, I don’t know where that is. It’s better that I stay with you.”

  Sawyer pulled Charlotte against his chest, breathing in her fresh, soothing scent. This woman did something to him he hadn’t dared dream of. With Newburg and surrounding areas falling under the wrath of the elder Sawyer and various others hungry for power, he hadn’t thought of life being back to normal. He hadn’t bothered to hope for a wife and family. He was part of the Portovenere, a secret organization, created to rid the city of the scum who stole citizens to work in the mines. Propaganda and torture were their methods of control, methods Sawyer hoped he’d never have to witness. If they got hold of Charlotte, it would be the end of the Portovenere and the entire area would succumb to the men who thought power and money kept the world turning. The evil penetrating their minds ensured the world wouldn’t be safe as long as his father was alive. Then there were the dragons.

  How could he keep Charlotte safe in the midst of that evil? He buried his face in her hair. He had to find a way to get her back to her family, wherever they were.

  Although she hadn’t mentioned it, he knew the idea of parallel worlds fought the logical nature of her mind. It had crossed his mind as well; right from the moment he saw her standing confused and alone on the streets of Newburg.

  He debated asking her what her feelings were in that respect. He had to find his great-grandmother’s journal. If Charlotte was from another time and not just another place, he had a feeling the journal would point them in the right direction.

  He toiled with the knowledge that there wasn’t time. They were headed to Newburg in the morning, when the village of Portovenere would be sleeping off the Festival of the Gathering Lights.

  A moment later, with Charlotte tucked under his arm, a voice called out to him. He turned at the sound, keeping Charlotte close against his body.

  Recognizing Cameron and the other Portovenere men, he lifted his hand in greeting.

  Turning from them, he whispered in Charlotte’s ear. “Come dance with me.’

  She nodded, took his hand and followed him out on the pier. Surrounded on three sides by the water, he wrapped one arm around her waist and took her hand in his. Her hand settled warmly on his shoulder.

  “I don’t want politics to ruin the night. We’ll leave Cameron and his men to their own entertainment,” he said as he led Charlotte in rhythm with the mellow tones of the flutes and strings.

  “Nothing could ruin this night,” she murmured into his shoulder. Her scent enveloped him, dizzying his senses. He closed his eyes, branding the feel of her in his arms into his memory.

  They swayed in harmony with the music until the pace quickened to a lively beat, reminiscent of salsa to Charlotte’s ears. She didn’t want Sawyer to release her. If she could have stayed on the pier for the entire night, in his arms, she would have. Something about him enthralled her. He ran his hands down her sides before releasing her, sending warmth coursing through her body. She’d never wanted a man more in her entire life. Another unfamiliar feeling emanated from him. His blue eyes had darkened with desire. Charlotte could
feel the heat between them, something she’d never felt from a man before. She was wanted, lusted, and the thought excited her.

  Finally, Sawyer broke the tension. “Let’s go back,” he said softly.

  “Go back? You don’t want to stay and enjoy the festival? It’s a beautiful night.”

  He smiled and cocked his head. Charlotte could only guess at what he was thinking but he made the guesswork easy by winking at her. He took her hand, giving her a little tug toward the boardwalk. She followed without a word.

  Back on the sidewalks of the village, Sawyer seemed to relax. “The men are out of the house. We need some time to go through the library without interruption.”

  Hoping for a more intimate reason for their return to the manor house, Charlotte wasn’t sure how to respond. She lowered her gaze, watching the sidewalk where she stepped. Then, she felt the weight of his hand on the small of her back. Her ruffled feelings soothed, she smiled up at him. That same desire still burned in his eyes. He didn’t have to tell her his hopes. They burned into her through his gaze. Charlotte’s heart began to pump hard in her chest. In her opinion, they couldn’t get back to the house soon enough.

  Walking up through the courtyard of the manor house, she realized how dark the estate could seem when no one was home. It seemed austere and uncomfortable. Charlotte would have much preferred Sawyer’s own home and she told him so.

  “I’m sorry I had to bring you here,” he said as he heaved open the heavy doors. Charlotte was surprised they weren’t locked.

  “You know I had no choice. I could have handled myself.” The words came easy but she knew she would much rather have traveled with him. If only they hadn’t had to come here. It was not a welcoming home. From its grey stone exterior to the stark white room she’d been assigned to, she was very thankful to have Sawyer’s arm to lean on.

  He led her directly up a spiral staircase to the second level and from there, up another set of stairs to the upper story.

  The room Sawyer led her into was swathed in darkness. Hitting a light switch on the wall, he moved aside enabling her to have a full view of the room.

  He shifted so he stood beside her. Not until she felt his finger on her chin, did she realize her mouth was hanging open. She shut it and smiled at him.

  “You like the room?” he asked.

  “That’s an understatement. It’s gorgeous. I’d kill for a library like this in my home.”

  “But you own a bookstore, right?”

  She walked slowly into the room, neck craned up at the upper shelves, and heavily bowed with the weight of books, trailing her fingers along the spines of the books on the lower shelves. Ornate dragons carved from oak stood guard at the upper most shelves, looking down with hooded eyes.

  “The bookstore is nothing like this,” she said.

  She heard his footfalls behind her. “How so?” he asked, his soft voice warming the room.

  “This is history. These are all so old, ancient even. The scent is musty and believe it or not, something here calls to me.” She turned to look at him, suddenly realizing why he’d brought her to this room. “Is this where the journal is?”

  He stood still, hands clasped behind his back, feet apart, hair falling over one eye. He reminded Charlotte of a rogue pirate just then.

  “I hope so, for your sake. If we’re going to find the journal, it has to be tonight. Tomorrow we’ll be in Newburg and knowing all we can about your situation can only help us.”

  Charlotte rubbed at her temples. “How are we going to find it in all these books?”

  He gazed up at the shelves. “We’ll have to rely on luck for that.”

  “All right. Let’s get going.” She adjusted her reading glasses on her nose. Thankful she hadn’t lost them yet, she picked a shelf and began reading.

  With the possibility of finding the way home so tangible, Charlotte felt almost giddy. She shivered with anticipation. She stole quick glances at Sawyer as he rooted through dusty manuscripts and unfiled papers. When he reached high for a certain tome, she took the opportunity to watch the muscles of his back flex beneath his white shirt. He was helping her, opening his family secrets for her. His tight ass only added to her wonderment. How could she have fallen into this other world only to run into the man of her dreams? That was what he was. She was finally admitting it to herself. But none of that mattered because she needed to get home and she knew he wouldn’t be able to follow. His work here was important…and he had his own family and responsibilities to attend to.

  Charlotte skimmed her finger along the spines of the books on a shelf just above her head, reading the titles aloud in a soft whisper. Artifacts of the Bearings, The History of Slavery in the Bearing Isles, Ancient Symbols of the Drake Clan, The Musings of a Displaced Duchene.

  “Sawyer! I think I found it!” Book in hand, she dropped to the floor. “This has to be the one.”

  Sawyer reached her side and stretched his long legs out in front of him, leaning back against the bookcase. With her legs crossed under her skirt, she shifted closer to him and handed him the book. Bound in soft leather, it was yellowed with age. Small and musty, it fit in his large hands. He took care as he opened the cover.

  “Displaced Duchene. That’s got to be her,” she said as she leaned over his arm to get a better look.

  He laughed. “Yes, I think it is. Hold on here. I’ll read a bit of a passage.” He flipped through the pages and settled somewhere in the middle of the book. The handwriting was slanted to the left, thin and determined.

  The wedding was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen and I’m not just saying that because it was my own. The gown was threaded through with magnificent silver stitching and the dainty shoes, beaded with diamonds and other gems. I’ve never seen an outfit so spectacular, let alone wear one.

  His mother tied my hair in rags so in the morning it hung in splendid coils. The tiny purple flowers that accented my hair added brilliance and joy. No matter what adjectives I come up with, I just can’t seem to describe my wedding outfit as it deserves.

  White fairy lights lit the streets and the harbor. It was as if the entire village came out to support our vows. Having the wedding at night was an inspired idea. The moon reflecting off the sea only added to the décor.

  “Sounds like tonight,” Charlotte interrupted.

  Sawyer caught her eye, nodded and resumed his reading. Charlotte listened to the cadence of his voice as he read the journal. He read with a reverence, an awe. Delving into the private thoughts of his grandmother affected him more than he expected, she knew.

  Then there was my groom, all decked out in his tuxedo, his dark hair slicked back. I wanted nothing more than to take him back to the house and have my way with him.

  Charlotte’s gaze flicked from the book to Sawyer’s face. He blushed.

  “Keep going,” she encouraged, nudging his shoulder with her own. “She was a newlywed. She was entitled to those thoughts.”

  He cleared his throat. “I guess I always assumed only men entertained those thoughts.”

  She laughed. “Hardly. Never mind, keep reading.”

  He looked so handsome, but then, he always does. That night was no different. Suddenly, home meant nothing to me without him. For so many nights, I dreamed of somehow finding my way home, back to my friends and family but standing beside him, I knew I was home. It wasn’t some other far away place. It was right there beside him.

  “Okay,” whispered Charlotte. “We’ll have time to read the rest later. Skip to the back.”

  Sawyer flipped the pages through his fingers, settling on one of the last, delicate pages. He continued reading.

  I know my decision is the right one. My family is content, my grandsons fine and grown. Now is the time for my return.

  Charlotte’s breath stuck in her throat. “Does she mention how? How does she get back?”

  “I don’t know. Let’s keep reading.” He flipped through several pages. His fingers although strong, took great
care with the fragile paper. Charlotte’s stomach flipped at such intimate movements. She loved his hands and watching them move was like seeing straight into his soul.

  “Look. Here’s the last entry,” he said.

  I ask only that my family remember me. With Joseph gone, it’s time I returned to my original place in time and space. You will be fine without me. For so many years, I’ve been happy here in both my work with the dragons and my life inside the manor house. Take good care of each other. When I find the locked door, I’ll be back home.

  Charlotte stared at the handwriting, so thin and scrawled, much like the woman in the bookshop. Marie-Claire wrote of her entire life in this book and her writing changed with the passing of the years.

  “You see? She didn’t die, Sawyer. She went back. Do you believe me now?” Excitement shivered up her spine.

  “I’ve always believed you, Charlie. That’s never been the issue. I just wasn’t sure of my grandmother’s part in all of this.” He paused, lowering his gaze. “We…we attended a funeral.”

  His face showed agitation and betrayal. Charlotte’s heart ached for him. His grandmother who he thought dead and gone was living a life apart from him. It must be a very unsettling thought.

  “I’m sure she expected you to. Someone else must have known what was going on. Someone to tell everyone she was dead, to arrange the funeral…” She turned back to the journal. “Wait, what was that about dragons? She couldn’t have meant that in the literal sense.”

  Sawyer’s face paled. He didn’t want to tell her. She would never understand, but now there seemed to be no choice. His grandmother had broken the news for him.

  “Sawyer?”

  “The dragons exemplified her life’s work. She protected the eggs.” When Charlotte began to interrupt, he held up his finger to silence her.

  He took a deep breath and blew it out. “When she died, my father, her son-in-law, stole several of the eggs. He blackmailed the dragons into giving him portions of their hoard and raised the young ones as his own.”