Her reply arrived less than a minute later.
My dad hates flying, but he’s almost there. Are you definitely going? If you are, that would help him make up his mind.
YES! I replied. My mom just got the tickets!
“Chelsea said it seems like her dad is going to say yes,” I told my mom, since she was waiting for me to relay what the text said.
“I don’t understand why you can’t call each other,” she said with a shake of her head. “It’s much faster than texting.”
I laughed, because as many times as I tried to explain texting to my mom, she never got it. I called people if I needed to have a long conversation, but for anything else, texting was more efficient.
But I didn’t say that to my mom, because I’d told her a million times and it never sunk in.
My phone buzzed with another text from Chelsea.
My dad is IN!
“Chelsea and her dad are coming on the trip!” I told my mom. Right away, I texted Drew to let him know.
I couldn’t believe this was coming together so easily.
CHAPTER 19
I’d never traveled internationally before, so I didn’t know what to expect. The plane was huge—much larger than the planes I took when I visited my dad in Pennsylvania. My mom, Chelsea, Chelsea’s dad, and I had seats near each other in coach. Drew and his mom were in first class. The leather seats in first class looked big and comfortable, but I tried not to be jealous. We were all ending up in the same place. Plus, the coach seats had little touch screen televisions, so I could stay entertained through the flight.
We were supposed to sleep since we were traveling East, but I couldn’t fall asleep on planes, so I read the whole way. The lack of sleep would catch up with me tomorrow, but there was no point in uncomfortably trying (and failing) to sleep when I could read instead.
It was morning in England when we arrived. To me, it felt like night should have just started. I regretted not sleeping on the plane, since I was getting the feeling that the jet lag was going to be rough.
When we got to baggage claim at Heathrow Airport, I saw a middle-aged man in a suit holding a sign that said “Carmichael.” He waved when he spotted Drew and Drew’s mom.
“That’s my grandparents’ driver, Marshall,” Drew told me. “My grandparents are doing last minute preparations for our arrival, so they’ll be meeting us at the house.”
I looked at him in amazement. “Your grandparents have a driver?”
“Yeah.” He squeezed my hand for assurance. I guess he didn’t realize how alien the concept of having a personal driver would seem to me until he saw my reaction. Maybe drivers were commonplace in London and New York City, but in Pembrooke, everyone I knew drove themselves.
Marshall helped us with our luggage, and led us out of the airport to a huge limo.
“And they have a limo?” I asked Drew, keeping my voice quiet. I didn’t want Marshall to overhear me and think I was unsophisticated.
“Yep,” he said. “But they only use it to go to important functions, or to the airport.”
“And to go to other places they use what … their Rolls Royce?” I was only half-joking.
“Close,” Drew said. “They have a Bentley.”
I didn’t know much about Bentleys, but I guessed they were expensive.
“The drive will take about an hour and fifteen minutes,” Marshall told us once he finished loading our luggage into the limo.
The limo was huge, and the wraparound seat provided more than enough room for the six of us. Drew and his mom sat in the forward-facing seat, Chelsea and her dad took the seat facing backward, and my mom and I sat in the longest seat that faced the side. I liked that, because the window was straight ahead, giving me a good view of the scenery.
Everyone made small talk on the way there, but I spaced out of the conversation to admire the view. When we first left the airport the surroundings were urban, although the city had a historical feel to it, since the buildings had been there for centuries. It was incredible thinking about everything that might have happened in those buildings for the hundreds of years that they’ve been there. So many families that have come and gone, so many stories to tell.
The sidewalks were covered in snow, but the grayness of winter couldn’t take away the charmed feeling I got while looking around. I spotted a few of the British red telephone booths that I’d seen in movies, and as we drove farther from the city we passed the cutest houses that looked like they’d been in families for generations. Everything felt classy here—even the taxicabs were black and regal, opposed to the dinky, yellow ones in the United States. Hopefully I would have time later in the trip to sketch some of these beautiful scenes.
The buildings grew farther apart as the drive continued, and I admired the rolling hills of the English countryside. The snow blanketed on the grass and trees made it look like we were in a winter wonderland. Not even the gray sky distracted from the mystical feeling, and goose bumps rose across my arms as I contemplated the years of history held within these enchanting lands.
I couldn’t believe I was here—in England—the place where a past self I was only beginning to remember had lived out the entirety of her life that had been cut off too soon.
Which reminded me that if Drew, Chelsea, and I weren’t successful on our mission, my present life might be cut off soon, too.
With that thought, the sky that had been welcoming only minutes before took on a foreboding quality. I wrapped my arms around myself and sunk into the seat, not wanting to think about the dire consequences that would happen if the task Alistair had set for us turned out to be impossible. I wanted to be optimistic, but it was hard when what we had to do was so extreme.
Finally, Marshall pulled up in front of a huge house that I assumed belonged to Drew’s grandparents. Actually, “house” was barely a fair description. The only proper term I could come up with for it was an estate.
The Tudor-style home was three floors tall, with huge windows on the stone walls and a double-door entrance that looked too heavy for one person alone to open. I knew that Drew came from a wealthy family, but I had no idea his grandparents lived in a place fit for nobility. Along with the house being huge, there were no other houses nearby, giving me the impression that Drew’s grandparents owned most of the surrounding land. I couldn’t imagine how two people could need that much space for themselves.
I wondered if it ever got lonely. That must be why they opened their home for guests, like they were doing for my and Chelsea’s families now. Single lights in each window were the only signs that the house was prepared for the holiday season, and I could make out a giant Christmas tree in one of the larger windows near the door.
This was going to be the most magical Christmas ever.
And hopefully it wouldn’t be my last.
I stepped out of the limo, and Drew held out a hand to help me up.
“What do you think?” he asked. “Is England how you pictured it?”
“This house looks like it’s for nobility!” I blurted, embarrassed after I said it. I didn’t want to sound like a hick from the middle of nowhere in New Hampshire, but I couldn’t contain my enthusiasm.
“My grandparents don’t have noble titles,” Drew said with a laugh.
“I didn’t think so,” I said.
“Because my grandfather was the third son,” Drew continued, “so his eldest brother got the title.”
My mouth must have dropped open, because Drew chuckled and pulled me closer. I hadn’t prepared to meet a noble British family! I looked at what I was wearing—jeans, UGG boots, and a white puffy jacket.
His grandparents were going to think I was totally pedestrian.
“Don’t worry,” Drew said, as if he could read my mind. “They’re going to love you.”
“How do you know?” I asked.
“Because I love you,” he said, nuzzling his nose into my cheek. “So they have no other choice but to love you as well.”
&
nbsp; Despite the freezing air, his words sent warmth shooting through my body.
“Come on,” he said, draping an arm around my shoulders. “Let’s go inside and meet them.”
“Shouldn’t we get our bags first?” I asked. I wanted to go into the warmness of the house, but I didn’t want to leave my bags in the limo. I supposed Marshall might bring them inside, but it seemed rude to assume so.
“You’re a guest here,” Drew said. “Your luggage will be taken care of and brought to your room. Now, do you want to walk inside, or are you going to make me carry you there myself?”
“Let’s go,” I said, despite the temptation of Drew’s offer. I would have loved for him to carry me inside, but it was too soon for Chelsea to see us being so affectionate around each other.
He squeezed my hand, and we walked toward the massive front doors.
CHAPTER 20
Drew’s grandparents were waiting for us inside the living room. They introduced themselves by their first names, Richard and Sara. After the introductions, they offered us tea—it was so British. Then again, we were in England, and they were British, so it made sense.
The antique furniture made me feel like I was in a museum, and I sat down gently on the velvet couch as to not hurt it. Which was silly, since it had survived all those years, but I’d never been in a home this extravagant. Not even Drew’s compared.
“We’re glad you were able to make it,” Drew’s grandma said to me warmly. She reminded me of a queen—slender, and dressed in an ivory dress suit and pearls. “Drew’s told us so much about you, and it’s lovely that you’ll be spending Christmas with us.”
“Thank you for inviting us,” I replied. “And for having us stay with you. Your home is beautiful.”
“We need a reason to fill up these guest rooms,” Drew’s grandpa said with a hearty laugh. “Don’t get me wrong—I love living out here—but country life does get rather quiet.”
We talked for about twenty more minutes—mainly Drew’s grandparents asking Drew, Chelsea, and me about school and New Hampshire. Then the jet lag caught up with me. As hard as I tried, I couldn’t stop from yawning. I felt bad, since we had only just arrived. I didn’t want Drew’s grandparents to think they were boring me, but I felt like I hadn’t slept in over a day.
“Did you get much sleep on the plane, dear?” Drew’s grandma asked, placing her teacup down on the saucer.
“Not really,” I managed in between yawns.
“Lizzie didn’t sleep at all on the plane,” my mom decided to speak on my behalf. “She read the entire time.”
“You didn’t sleep at all?” Chelsea’s dad looked horrified.
“I tried, but it was hard to sleep in the seats,” I said with a shrug. I didn’t look at Drew or his mom, since I’m sure it was easier for them to sleep in the cushy first class seats that leaned back into private beds. I didn’t want to be jealous, but I kind of was, a little.
I shouldn’t be thinking that way, though, since I was lucky to be here at all.
“Perhaps you want to rest up before dinner?” Drew’s grandma asked. Then she looked around at everyone else, and I noticed that I wasn’t the only one with dark circles under my eyes. My mom tried to stifle a yawn, but I could tell she was tired as well.
“It seems like you all need a good nap,” Drew’s grandma concluded. “I’ll show you to your rooms—I know how tough travel days can be, so the staff has already prepared them for you.”
I was so tired that I didn’t show as much surprise as I normally would have at the fact that they had an entire staff. I was like a zombie as I followed her down the hall.
First she led Chelsea and her dad to their room, and the next one was for me and my mom. It was bigger than the master bedroom at our house, and the traditional furniture looked fit for nobility.
I didn’t have much time to admire it, because the moment I got into the bed, I closed my eyes and instantly fell asleep.
* * *
When the alarm on my phone sounded to wake me for dinner, I could have sworn it was the next day already and I had accidentally slept through the night. I needed ten more hours of sleep if I would ever feel awake again. But Drew’s grandparents had mentioned at tea that they were having dinner prepared for us to welcome us to England. As much as I would have loved to have slept through until morning, I forced myself to get out of bed and change out of the travel clothes I’d been wearing since I got on the plane in New Hampshire, which was who knows how long ago.
Dinner was served in the formal dining room, and it was extremely elegant. I felt like a lady in Downton Abbey, one of my favorite television shoes. Also, Drew’s grandma had no part in preparing the meal—besides deciding what she wanted on the menu. They actually did have a full staff, so their personal chef, Zesa, made our food. When each course was served, she told us details about the dish. I would have been more than happy with a cheeseburger and fries, but the Beef Wellington we had as an entrée was delicious. I barely had room for dessert, but I managed to force some cake down to be polite.
“Are you more awake after your nap?” Drew asked once the meal was over.
“Sort of,” I said, rubbing my eyes and holding back a yawn. “I’d heard about jet lag, but I never knew it was like this. I’ve never felt so tired before.”
“If you can manage to stay up for a little longer, I would love to give you a tour of the gardens,” he said.
“At night?” I asked. “And in December?” Just thinking about it made me shiver.
“Winter gardens have a certain charm to them,” he said. “And while they’re beautiful during the day, I prefer them at night.”
I wasn’t surprised. Drew was more of a night owl than me.
“I might be able to force myself to stay awake for a little bit longer,” I said with a smile.
He squeezed my hand. “Glad to hear it.”
After thanking Drew’s grandparents and Chef Zesa for the meal, Drew and I bundled up in winter gear and headed out to the gardens. I was worried that Chelsea would try to come with us, but either she got the hint that we wanted to be by ourselves or she was extremely tired, because she said she was exhausted and went to bed.
I wished I felt more awake, but this was the first chance I had to be alone with Drew since arriving to England. I was at least going to pretend to not be tired.
The garden was huge, and unbelievably beautiful. It had stone walls around it, and to enter we walked through an archway that looked like it led to another world. It was so quiet that even the sounds of our feet on stray twigs sounded loud. We strolled along the cobblestone pathway, and I was enjoying myself despite the cold, which was saying a lot. But English winters weren’t as bad as the ones in New Hampshire, so it was bearable.
I didn’t say much as I took in the view. All the trees except the evergreens were bare and covered in snow. White Christmas lights wrapped around the occasional tree, transforming the garden into a winter wonderland. Carved stone pots looked like they would hold flowers in the summer, but in the winter, with icicles dripping down the handles, they had a charm of their own. Once more, I wished for my sketchbook.
“It’s beautiful,” I said, leaning closer into Drew as we walked. I loved being near him, and the proximity kept me warm.
“I like gardens best in the winter,” he said.
“Why?” I asked.
“Because that’s when the garden is in its purest form,” he said. “Sure, it’s more colorful in the summer, but in the winter you see the bare bones of what it is, of what keeps it alive.”
Looking around now, what he said made sense. I would have loved to see what the garden looked like in the summer, in complete bloom, but now I was seeing the heart of what made it up, the part that never died.
Then I glanced up at the sky and saw the moon. It was three-quarters full. It would have been beautiful, but instead it reminded me that I only had a week to fix what Chelsea had done.
Drew must have seen the worry et
ched on my face, because he pulled me closer. I rested my head on his shoulder, loving being near him. I wished we could stay like this forever—the two of us together, enjoying a nighttime walk through a garden in the middle of winter. If only we didn’t have so much to worry about. Then we could be happy, like we were meant to be.
“Want to sit?” he asked when we came across a wooden bench. It had a covering above it, so the seat wasn’t wet with snow. The wood was old and peeling, making the bench look like it belonged in a cottage instead of a semi-noble estate. “This is my favorite place in the garden.”
He put his arm around me when we sat down, and I snuggled into him, breathing in the coldness of winter tinged with his forest-y cologne. For the rest of my life, I would associate the scent of the forest with safety, happiness, and love.
We looked up at the moon and stars, my hand clasped in his, neither of us saying a word.
“I can’t believe everything Alistair wants us to do,” I voiced what had been on my mind since speaking with him at his store. “It feels so impossible.”
“I wish I could tell you something that would make it all okay, or help prepare us for what’s to come, but I have no idea about this time travel stuff, either,” Drew said. “I want it to work, but whenever I think about it, it sounds crazy, and like you said, impossible. It’s our only option, though, so we have to try.”
“We can’t lose anything by trying.”
“Exactly.” He nodded. “And we’ll lose everything if we don’t.”
“Every time I think about it, it makes my head spin,” I told him.
“How come?” he asked.
“For instance, let’s say it’s possible, and the time travel works,” I started. “In the timeline we have now, we never went back to the past. Everything that exists in this life happened because of what happened in the past. Us meeting again, stopping the accident so we could be together in this life, etcetera. If we go back to the past and change it … what if we come back and everything is different? We could be completely different people. And if everything changes, will we remember everything from this timeline—the life we’ve lived up until now—or from the new one we’ll create by going back to the past?”
Timeless (Transcend Time, #2) Page 9