Twists in Time

by Various

  Christopher nodded.

  “Good. We’ll see you at sunrise,” Father said and left.

  Emory glanced my way and winked before rejoining the conversation with the couples around him.

  My stomach ached. I needed to leave.

  ***

  A breeze off the lake struck me as I charged outside, but the fresh air was a comfort. I inhaled and exhaled deeply, trying to calm the overwhelming feeling I had.

  What if I could never get home again?

  A man cleared his throat. Turning, I realized it was Ezekiel.

  “Miss Emma,” he said, tipping his hat to me. I nodded. “A word of advice?”

  I nodded again.

  “You must complete what you were sent here to do.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “The Missus and me, we have our work—to care for you and the grounds. When we are done, we can go home for the day.”

  “Yes.”

  “Someday, the good Lord will take us back where we belong.”

  That caught my attention. “Go on,” I whispered.

  “That day will only come once we’ve finished what we were sent here to do.” Ezekiel took a deep breath and looked around. Horses and carriages lined the street. A man exited the restaurant on the corner as a couple strolled past. “You need to remember that. You’re here for a purpose.”

  “But what if I don’t know what that purpose is?”

  “Of course you do!”

  I shook my head, confused.

  “It all begins with Mr. Parker, now doesn’t it?” Ezekiel stared at me for a long moment.

  “Do you know what’s happening to me?” I whispered.

  “My dear. You must hurry. Find Mr. Parker, and then locate the portal.”

  A noise behind me distracted us. Turning toward it, I noticed several men walking down the street.

  When I turned back to Ezekiel, he was gone.

  What portal could he be talking about?

  I picked up my pace and headed back toward the cotillion. Commotion on the street made me look over my shoulder more than once. I wasn’t scared here in Westport, but I was uneasy.

  At the corner, I glanced back for a second.

  “Whoa!” a man’s voice said.

  “Oops!” I mumbled, running into someone. “Ben!”

  “Yes. How do you know my name? Have we met?” His eyes held mine, and I felt calm.

  “No, um… You just look like someone I know.”

  He was silent for a moment, staring at me until I felt my cheeks burn in embarrassment.

  “I’m Benjamin,” he said, extending his hand.

  “Emma,” I answered. His grip was firm, and when he smiled, his eyes lit up like I remembered.

  “You look like you’ve seen a ghost. Is everything all right?”

  “Yes. My apologies.” I looked at my feet. How awkward was this? He didn’t even know me. Not that I expected him to. I mean, after all, I was stuck here in this ancient time. “I should go.”

  “I’m sorry but I wouldn’t feel right leaving you alone on the street at night.”

  “Is it not safe here?” I hadn’t thought about that.

  Ben looked around and shrugged. “I wouldn’t know. I just arrived from Michigan.”

  “Oh.”

  “I was about to get a bite to eat. Would you care to join me?”

  I noticed Ezekiel in the distance, nodding at me.

  “If you’ve eaten already, I understand.” Ben looked disappointed as I hesitated.

  “No, I haven’t. I’d love to.”

  ***

  The inn across the street had an impressive foyer with framed art lining the walls and an open, mahogany staircase. The arched doorway to the left led to a restaurant. Square tables filled the small room. An older couple appeared to be finishing their meal, while two men sat at the bar that ran along the back wall. A man behind the counter motioned to a table near the window. I followed Ben and took a seat. The bartender handed us menus and mumbled something about the kitchen closing soon.

  “The cook’s out of trout and whitefish. We have perch, pork chops, stew, and biscuits and beans.”

  Ben looked at me. “Any preference?” he asked.

  I shook my head.

  “Then we’ll order one of everything on your menu.”

  The bartender stared for a moment.

  “Generous helpings, please. I’ve been on a schooner too long,” Ben said as the man took the menu.

  “You were with the crew that was lost?” the bartender asked.

  “Yes, I was.”

  “Good to have you back. You the journeyman I heard of?”

  Ben nodded. “Benjamin Parker.”

  “Welcome. I’m John Hadley,” the bartender said, shaking Ben’s hand. “What can I get you to drink?”

  Ben looked at me. “Coffee, tea, ginger ale… whiskey?”

  “Ginger ale, please.” Ben looked surprised for an instant, then ordered one for himself.

  “So you were lost on the schooner?” I asked after the bartender left.

  “Yes. It was a menacing couple days.”

  Ben looked away and I saw the pain in his eyes. I wanted nothing more than to reach across the table and touch him. Instead, I whispered, “yes, I heard that. I’m sorry.”

  Ben shook his head. “It’s all part of the job.” His eyes met mine briefly before he glanced away. It was a look I was familiar with; one that told me he had a lot on his mind. I guessed the memories of the past days’ events weighed heavily on him.

  “How long have you done this? Sailed, I mean,” I asked after John returned with two mugs.

  “I got my start on Lake Erie and finished my apprenticeship on Lake Huron.” He said it with a sense of pride, as if he had years of experience.

  “How old are you?” I asked.

  “Eighteen.”

  I took a big drink of my ginger ale and choked.

  “Are you all right?” Ben asked, leaning forward and touching my hand. I nodded. The drink was sweet like ginger ale I was used to back home, but this was thick and strong, like it had alcohol in it. “You need to sip the ale. Not gulp.” He removed his hand from mine, took a drink from his mug, then winked at me.

  I smiled, feeling just as comfortable around him in 1889 as I did in present day.

  “I’ve spent four years on ships, if that’s what you’re asking.”

  “What about high school?” The words flew out of my mouth without thinking.

  “High school? I’m educated, if that’s what you’re asking.” I heard a hint of irritation in his voice. His eyebrows raised, and wrinkles appeared on his forehead. He sat back in his chair. “I come from a prestigious family in Detroit. I’m not poor.”

  “I didn’t mean it that way,” I whispered. “I’m sorry.”

  John returned with plates of food, filling our table with a variety of dishes.

  Ben helped himself to a thick slice of bread and slathered it with honey.

  “Help yourself,” he said motioning to the array. When I hesitated, he took a spoonful of stew and held it out for me. “It’s delicious.”

  I leaned forward and took a bite.

  He watched me intently, as I tasted the local cuisine. I had to agree. It was delicious.

  “You’re very beautiful,” he said.

  I smiled, feeling the pitter-patter in my chest that I usually got around Ben.

  “Hopefully, I’ll get to see that smile more often,” he said, grinning in return.

  ***

  Back in my room after the cotillion, I pulled out the boots from my wardrobe.

  I had to get back home and forget about this, even though Ben was as charming in 1889 as he was in my world.

  Slipping on the boots, I laced them tight. I walked around my bed and paced the length of the room, but nothing happened. I opened and closed the wardrobe, pushed the hanging clothes to one end, and even climbed inside. Still nothing.

  The mirror didn’t quiver on th
e door, and despite my attempts to feel dizzy, I stood firmly planted on my feet.

  In 1889.

  I kicked off the boots, lay back on the bed, and wondered what it would be like to live in this era. It seemed like my parents were wealthy and I could have anything I wanted.

  Well, almost.

  For a few moments, I forgot about the accepted proposal of marriage that my father had bestowed upon me.

  What would I do if I couldn’t get home?

  I must have dozed off because when I opened my eyes again, the sun was streaming through the window. I hoped it was all a dream and that I’d be back in present day Westport. But I wasn’t. I was still in my clothes from the night before.

  Mary stood beside me.

  “I pressed your dress and brought you a basin of fresh water. Your mother has asked for your presence, Miss Emmaline. Construction on your sister’s house is underway today.” I heard the whiz of a saw and the pounding of hammers.

  “My sister’s house?”

  “Yes. Yours will be next—I understand congratulations are in order.”

  I hesitated, breathing deeply.

  “Your upcoming engagement to Mr. Warren.”

  Then it came flooding back. “Yes, thank you,” I said and smiled. It wasn’t her fault I was dreading that. After telling her I could get dressed alone, she left, and I slipped into the pink dress she had set out.

  Mum was seated at the table when I reached the kitchen. She motioned for me to join her as Mary hustled to bring a cup of tea and a plate of biscuits and gravy.

  “Mr. Warren and Emory will be here soon,” Mum said.

  My breakfast was suddenly unappetizing.

  “Your father will review the plans for your new home with them. Perhaps you’d like a peek.” Mum motioned to the papers scattered at the opposite end of the long, mahogany table.

  I stood and saw a sketch of the home I shared with Aunt Barb. Tears welled in my eyes.

  “I knew you’d be pleased,” Mum said, gently squeezing my shoulders.

  “Excuse me, Mrs. Rice,” Ezekiel interrupted from the doorway.

  I quickly wiped my eyes.

  “Miss Catherine is requesting your presence outside.”

  “Why, yes. Thank you.”

  Mum followed him outside, and I picked through the floor-plan pages. Walls were planned where none existed in my time. My aunt’s den was labeled a sitting room. There was a parlor, a receiving room, and a servant’s room—all on the first floor.

  “Miss Emmaline, is there anything else I can get for you?” Mary asked.

  For a second, she reminded me of my aunt.

  I shook my head. “I’m fine, Mary. Thank you.”

  Mary smiled and left me with a plate of food I didn’t have the stomach to eat.

  ***

  An hour later, Mum suggested Catherine and I greet the workers while Mary served lemonade.

  “Be cordial,” Mum said with a smile. “After all, they will be constructing your home next.”

  Mary filled glasses with lemonade as Catherine and I handed them out. At least a dozen men worked to build Catherine’s future home. The hole in the ground I noticed yesterday was now covered with a framework two stories high.

  “You’re working so quickly,” Mum said to one of the men. “You’ll be able to construct Miss Emmaline and Mr. Emory’s home in record time, too!”

  “One more glass, Emmaline,” Catherine said. Mary handed it to me.

  Turning, I noticed the man was Ben. A sudden panic hit me. His eyes met mine, and I saw sadness behind them.

  “Thank you, Miss… Emmaline,” Ben said, accepting the glass. He turned quickly and headed toward the back of the property, where a few other men sat on a stack of wood.

  I wanted to run and follow him, but I knew Mum would disapprove. Moments later, they were back to work, and Catherine and I watched from the porch.

  Ben climbed to the second level, pulled up boards of wood, and held them while Christopher nailed them in place. Catherine chewed on her lower lip. Christopher was building the home she would never share with him.

  “I cannot marry someone I do not love,” I whispered to her. We sat in rocking chairs.

  Catherine’s lips tightened, and I noticed tears swelling in her eyes. “You must obey Father’s commands,” she whispered back.

  “He cannot make me live my life that way.”

  Catherine glared at me for a moment, looking away only when a carriage pulled up. Emory and an older gentleman I recognized from the cotillion got out. Father greeted them, Mum by his side. They beamed from ear to ear, as if they’d won the lottery.

  To me, it was the worst day of my life.

  “Good day, Miss Emmaline,” Emory said, removing his hat.

  I said hello, but deep down, my stomach ached and I knew I could never love him. Catching a glimpse of Ben, I noticed he was watching me.

  Father escorted the two men into the house but never asked me to join them. When I stood to follow, Catherine motioned me to sit.

  “It’s not your place to follow, Emmaline. You know that.”

  Not my place? They’re discussing my future, and I have no say? My chest hurt, and my heart raced. Instead of sitting still, I crossed the yard and found myself inside the barn.

  I sat on a bale of hay, and my tears fell uncontrollably.

  “You didn’t tell me you were Emmaline Rice,” Ben said.

  I stood and spun around. “I—”

  “You’re upset. Why?”

  I threw myself into his arms and began to babble about being from a different time and not knowing how I got there. Ben listened attentively, gently stroking my back.

  “And I don’t love Emory. I refuse to marry him,” I said, pulling back to look Ben in the eyes. “You believe me, don’t you?” I sounded stupid, even to myself.

  Ben hesitated for a moment as if cautiously selecting his words before he spoke them aloud. “I believe you are unhappy with the idea of marriage to someone you do not love. I believe you are intelligent and have a good sense of humor.”

  I was a sniffling mess.

  Ben handed me a handkerchief, and I blotted my eyes.

  “I do not understand when you say you do not belong here. You have lived here your entire life. I have heard many stories of you and your sister.” When I looked up at him, he continued. “Your father speaks highly of you. He says you are bright and determined. You have a good head on your shoulders. He’s proud of you, and he wants you to be happy.”

  “You would make me happy,” I whispered.

  Thunder rumbled overhead.

  Ben leaned down and stared at me. For a long moment, he looked at my lips, and I hoped he’d kiss me. When he didn’t, I reached up and kissed him. I tingled from head to toe, and I felt dizzy when he pulled back. My heart was beating fast, and I wanted nothing more than to kiss him again.

  “Miss Emma,” Ezekiel interrupted, “it’s time.” He pointed to the empty stall. Bales of hay in the corner began to quiver, and I felt the ground shake. “Hurry. You must step through the portal.”

  Ben looked puzzled until Ezekiel put his hand on Ben’s shoulder. “She must go. Now!”

  I took a step closer, toward the portal.

  “You already make me happy,” Ben said.

  I stopped and smiled, blowing him a kiss. Then I felt everything tremble. A loud thunder roared above me, and everything went black.

  ***

  “On my potting table,” Aunt Barb said. I was back in the barn, standing beside the old cabinet in the corner. My lips tingled from Ben’s kiss. Instinctively, I touched them.

  Did that really just happen to me?

  “Did you find it?” she called.

  I shook my head, dusted off my shorts, and grabbed the bag of dirt I’d somehow missed sitting right next to the armoire. When I exited the barn, it was present day. I felt the warmth of the sun on my skin. Aunt Barb kneeled beside the flowerbed, packing dirt around the geraniums she’d pla
nted. Why didn’t she realize how long I’d been gone?

  “Thanks, honey,” she said when I handed her the bag, as if nothing happened.

  The door to the house swung open, and Chester, our English Mastiff, bounded out. Behind him, Ben stepped onto the porch carrying bags of fast food. He smiled when he saw me. “I hope you’re hungry.”

  “So you’re not mad at me anymore?” I asked, walking the stairs to the porch.

  Ben looked confused. “Should I be?”

  “Never mind.” I grinned. “So, when did you get here?”

  He squinted a brief moment, then answered, “I’ve been here all morning. You asked me to help with yard work, remember?”

  Aunt Barb greeted Ben and put the bags of food on the table. “I still can’t believe Ben ordered everything on the take-out menu.”

  “You did?” I asked. It was just like our meal in 1889.

  “I couldn’t make up my mind,” Ben smirked. “But they were out of ginger ale,” he added, pulling me into his arms.

  Did he just say that?

  He lifted my chin to meet his gaze. Tears swelled in my eyes as emotions overwhelmed me. “Is something wrong?” he asked.

  I hesitated, then decided to tell him. “I had this strange experience. It wasn’t really a dream, but—”

  “Okay, go on,” he chuckled, interrupting.

  “Well, I saw you… and you didn’t know who I was. You were mad, or something. I thought we’d broken up,” I mumbled.

  “Never. I love you too much,” he said and kissed me. “You make me happy.”

  “You make me happy, too,” I said.

  It was then I understood my purpose. By finding Ben in the past, I secured our future together.

  THE END

  If you enjoyed Aftertime, we recommend you check out Aftermath by: Sandy Goldsworthy.

  A loud crack like thunder and a flash of light filled him with dread as he fell. He landed hard on his knees. At least there was grass to cushion them. His hands were scratched up, bleeding, but he couldn’t remember why. In fact, he couldn’t remember much of anything, except he was being chased. Someone was after him, and he was desperate to get away. Heart pounding, he climbed to his feet and took his first look around at his location.

  It was dark, but he could see well enough to tell he was either in someone’s private garden area or in a park. A warm breeze rustled through the trees, flowers outlined a pebbled path, and a young girl sat on a bench about twenty feet from him. She stood as soon as his gaze touched upon her pretty face.