“Correct, very good. I’m sure ye were an outstanding lifeguard.”
“I’m not sure I understand what that has to do with time travel.”
“Don’t ye? Never fear, ye will. Now, I must be leaving.” She stood to leave.
Sara stood too, offering the old woman her hand. “It was lovely to meet you. Will I see you again?”
Gertrude laughed merrily as she shook Sara’s hand. “Only time will tell, lass, only time will tell.” She turned and walked towards the Rialto Bridge. She stopped for a moment, looked toward the canal and waved. Sara glanced in the direction Gertrude had waved but there was a lot of traffic in the canal at that time of day and she couldn’t see anyone waving back. When she glanced back at Gertrude, the mysterious old woman had disappeared into the crowd.
Sarah stared at the watch in her hand. Could it actually work? Sara hoped so. What an adventure sixty days in another time would be. She could hardly wait to go to sleep that night.
The bells from San Marco began ringing, stirring her from her reverie. It was half-past two. She needed to get back to the hotel. After paying her bill at the café, she crossed the bridge and found the tiny dark alley that led to their hotel. The first time she’d walked through it she was struck by the fact that the alley seemed untouched by time. There was a small shrine to Saint Joseph in a niche about halfway down the passage. All the talk about time travel had her imagination running wild. What if the ancient alley was actually a time portal that would carry her to medieval Venice? “Hey, that could work. That could be my conduit for time travel,” she said aloud to the empty alley. She smiled to herself. Maybe the magic of the pocket watch was just to open her mind to other possibilities. Even if she didn’t actually go back in time, she’d just figured out a way to let her readers do it.
She stepped into the hot sunshine in the little square at the other end. Soon one of her characters would be met with a very different sight at the other end of this alley. She grinned. She was going to write a time-travel novel. Thank you, Gertrude, for giving me the idea.
She practically skipped into the hotel.
The concierge greeted her. “Good afternoon, Signorina Wells. Did you enjoy your morning?” His rich Italian accent transformed the polite greeting into something intimate, almost illicit.
Sara smiled, certain a man with an Italian accent could read the phonebook and make it sound sexy. “Yes, very much, thanks. We’ll be leaving soon. Can you arrange a water taxi for us?”
“Mr. Holland has already taken care of that.”
“Perfect. Thank you.”
When she reached their room, Mark was just stepping out of the shower. His hair was wet and tousled and he had a towel wrapped low around his hips.
He turned towards her and flashed his megawatt smile. “There you are, gorgeous. Right on time. Just give me a minute to dress and we can head to the cruise terminal.”
“Great.” She had already packed her things so she sat on the bed to wait for him.
“Are you excited about the cruise?” he asked.
“Very excited. I’m kind of anxious to get to the ship.” What she was really anxious to do was settle in and write down her story ideas. They were flying through her head at lightning speed now, urged on by the prospect of actually experiencing another time.
“Damn, where did I put my shoes?”
She shrugged, lost in thought.
“Yoo-hoo, Sara, do you think you could wake up and help me find them?
“Oh, sorry, sure. They probably slid under the bed. I’ll look.” She knelt on the floor and lifted the dust ruffle. “Yup, here they are.” She passed them to him, but as she started to stand, she noticed something on the floor by the bed. “What’s this?”
She picked it up. “Eww, gross. It’s someone’s condom wrapper.”
Mark frowned. “Wow, I’m surprised housekeeping missed that. Oh well, at least it’s not a used condom. Give it to me. I’ll throw it away, then we have to hit the road…or the canal I should say.”
“Okay.” She handed it to him, her nose still scrunched in disgust.
Mark tossed it in the trash basket by the desk. “I wish I had felt well enough to see more of Venice. Did you take a lot of pictures?”
“A few. I’ll show you later.” She picked up one of the suitcases. “Are you ready to go?”
“Yeah, but I’ll take that. Just grab your purse and your carryon.”
“Are Benjamin and Daphne going with us?”
“No, they left earlier. We’ll meet them for dinner. It’s just you and me for now.”
Yay. She did a mental happy dance. The more it was just the two of them the better.
Moments later, they were downstairs and a porter was leading them towards the alley to the Grand Canal.
“Ooh, wait a minute. I want to get a picture of this,” said Sara.
“Of the alley?” asked both Mark and the porter in unison.
Sara laughed. “Yes, the alley. I have an idea for a book.”
Mark grinned. “That’s my girl.”
~ * ~
By five that evening the ship was at sea and they were comfortably installed in their stateroom, a large suite with a private balcony that looked off the back of the ship. Mark had cracked open the bottle of champagne that had awaited them and Sara sipped on a glass while she tapped away at her computer, trying to capture all of her ideas about time travel.
“Sara, this isn’t exactly what I had in mind when I asked you on a cruise vacation. Let’s go to one of the bars or the casino before we meet up with Benjamin and Daphne.”
“You can go on if you want, I’ll just be a minute.”
“Nah, on second thought, it’s better to give Benjamin a little time to cool down. He’s beyond pissed that they fouled up the reservation and we didn’t get the penthouse.”
“Okay.” When she’d first heard about it, she thought the whole thing had been entirely ridiculous and she didn’t want to be dragged into a discussion about it. She continued writing and Mark switched on the television.
About an hour later, the phone rang. Mark answered it, but Sara paid no attention to his conversation.
Mark hung up the phone. “That was Benjamin.”
“Has he calmed down yet?”
“Some. He’s mellowing.”
She arched an eyebrow at him. “Mellowing?”
He laughed. “Yes, mellowing. He’s angry but he’s still here. He didn’t storm away when his money couldn’t fix the foul up.”
“That’s true.” A smile flirted at Sara’s lips. Benjamin handled all problems by throwing money at them and, given his deep pockets, he was accustomed to getting his own way. Frankly, it would have been amusing to watch as his tried-and-true method fail, but it had all happened before she and Mark arrived on the ship. “So, what did he want?”
“To meet for drinks, and go to dinner.”
“Okay. I’ll just be another minute.”
One minute became twenty and by the time they met Benjamin and Daphne, Benjamin was in a foul mood. Knowing it was better to just grin and bear it, Sara plastered on a smile and kept her mouth shut. It was especially irksome when Benjamin spent a good hour complaining about the “general incompetence exhibited by the crew and cruise line,” but she was able to ignore the rant, letting her mind drift back into ideas for her book. By dessert, she had worked out much of the plot and couldn’t wait to finish getting it down.
As they left the restaurant, Sara turned towards the elevator lobby.
“Where are you going, gorgeous?” Mark asked.
Sara frowned. “Up to our room.”
“Babe, were you not paying attention? We all agreed to go to the casino for a while.”
The casino? Ugh. “You know I’m not really good at gambling. I don’t know much about it.”
He kissed her temple. “You don’t have to know much. All you have to do is look beautiful and bring me luck.
Reluctantly, she agreed, but soon grew
bored watching Mark and Benjamin play as if they were spending Monopoly money. She really wanted to get back to her book idea.
By half-past ten she said, “I’m really tired, Mark. Do you mind if I go back to our suite?”
“Oh, babe, I’m sorry. You were up early and probably are tired. I should have remembered that.” He kissed her. “You go on to bed.”
She wasn’t exactly going to bed, but that was as good an excuse as any.
Daphne patted her on the arm. “Bless your heart. You do look exhausted.”
Sara ignored the insincere comment. “Okay, then. I’ll see you later, Mark.”
He gave her his winning smile. “You bet, babe. I’ll join you soon. The casino closes at three.”
Five and a half hours wasn’t her idea of soon, but it didn’t matter. She’d have all the time she needed with her book. As she walked away, she heard Daphne say, “Well, you can’t really expect someone like her to understand the excitement of high stakes gaming.”
Sara found some measure of satisfaction when she heard Benjamin’s derisive laugh. “This isn’t high stakes gaming.”
When she reached the suite, she pulled on comfortable pajamas and got lost in her writing. She reached a stopping point a little before midnight, tired but very happy with her progress.
She retrieved the pocket watch and climbed into bed. Mark would be gone for hours still. If the watch worked, she’d travel to the past, spend sixty days there and be back well before he even returned from the casino.
“Okay little pocket watch, let’s see what you can do. My return word is Skywalker.” With that she slipped the chain around her neck and curled up under the covers, falling asleep nearly instantly.
Chapter 3 - Nothing to Lose
Sara awoke as her body hit the cool water and she instinctively took a deep breath just before her head went under. Holy hell, what’s happening? Everything was black. She must have fallen overboard at night, but she wasn’t sure how. She tried to kick her way to the surface of the water, but something restricted her legs and it felt as if she were being pulled deeper. It was her clothing. She wore shoes and layer upon layer of clothing.
Layers of clothing? The pocket watch had worked but if she didn’t free herself, she was going to drown. First to go were the shoes and stockings. Then she removed a cape like garment from her shoulders. She jerked the long heavy skirts up, freeing her legs so she could kick her way upward. Still weighed down with wet clothing, it took everything in her to reach the surface. The moment her head broke the water, she gasped, filling her lungs with much needed oxygen. She tried to tread water as she worked to remove her clothes but it was nearly impossible to do both. She was going to exhaust herself quickly at this rate so she took a deep breath and allowed herself to sink a little as she searched for openings in her garments.
The heavy outer dress had laces up the front. She found the tie, released it, and managed to loosen the ribbon enough to wriggle out of the dress. This decreased her weight enough that she was able to swim back to the surface and stay there this time. She wore layers of petticoats that untied easily. Within minutes she had shed everything except a silk chemise and the pocket watch which hung around her neck. Completely unburdened now, it took very little energy to tread water so she took a moment to assess her situation.
The sky was overcast and she was completely enshrouded by the dark of night. The only light came from lanterns on a large galleon not far away. The activity on the deck suggested that something was wrong. Sara assumed the girl in whose body she found herself must have fallen—or jumped—from that ship. It was likely they were working to rescue her. She could just wait, treading water, until they did.
In an effort to figure out where she was, Sara looked around. They were fairly close to land, given the direction the ship was pointing, they must be returning to port. She was certainly within swimming distance. But there was also another ship bearing down on them with full sails. Somehow this distressed her. She felt as if she had to avoid that ship at all costs. Maybe this was one of the other girl’s memories pushing through, but in that moment, Sara believed she needed to swim to shore, avoiding both ships.
In fact, she was so certain of this, just in case the white shift she wore might be seen, she swam underwater as long as she could before surfacing for a quick breath and dipping back under again. When she was finally far enough away to be sure the lights from the ship couldn’t reach her and reveal her location, her anxiety lessened and she switched to a slow steady freestyle stroke. She tired much sooner than she’d expected to. Just as she’d told Gertrude, she had been a distance swimmer in high school. She still swam almost every day for exercise and should have been able to reach the shore with little difficulty.
But this isn’t your body, she reminded herself. She needed to rethink this, or risk tiring and drowning. She flipped over and floated on her back for a while to rest. When she felt able, she turned back over and swam for a while. She repeated this process over and over, until she reached the point that she could barely take five strokes before turning over for a rest. Eventually she did reach land, but she was exhausted.
There was a narrow strip of sand and rocks between the sea and an area of land covered in sea grass. The night was warm and still, only a slight breeze stirred. But soaked and with nothing dry to wrap around her, it was enough to chill her. The tall vegetation would shield her from what little air moved. She crawled across the sand and curled up in the grass, completely spent. She had no idea when or where she was. And while she should probably seek some help, she didn’t have the energy to. She laid her head down and gave into sleep.
~ * ~
Benedict MacIan was accustomed to rising before dawn on work days, but he usually tried to sleep a little longer on Sundays. However this morning, the first rays of dawn had barely pinked the sky when something jarred him from sleep. He laid in bed and listened, but nothing broke the early morning stillness of the empty house. He tried to go back to sleep but simply couldn’t. Finally, he gave up, rose and dressed.
He went down to his kitchen and made a cup of tea, but even as he sat down to drink it, something nagged at him. He wasn’t sure what it was, but decided perhaps a walk on the beach would put this feeling to rest.
Even in this coolest part of the day, and on the Lido, a narrow island well away from the center of Venice, the morning was warm. It would be a hot day and he was glad he didn’t have to go to his shipyard in the Arsenale today.
He walked along the deserted beach, the waters of the Adriatic washing over his feet, wondering what had beckoned to him.
Beckoned? That was an odd choice of words. But now that he thought on it, he knew that it was the right word because he felt drawn forward as if someone were calling to him.
Then he saw it. A hundred yards or so down the beach, something had crushed the sea grass and he could glimpse white fabric.
He picked up his pace. When he realized it was a person, he broke into a run. As he drew closer he was able to see more clearly that it was a girl, or a young woman with dark curly hair. She appeared to have crawled across the sand and lay curled up in the grass, wearing nothing but a thin white shift.
When he reached her, he knelt at her side. Her shift was damp and she was cool to the touch. Turning her gently onto her back, he feared the worst. But within seconds, he was able to discern the shallow rise and fall of her chest. He breathed a sigh of relief. She was alive. Maybe only barely, but she was alive. Thank God.
He shook her gently. “Miss, miss, can you wake up?” he asked in Venetian.
Eyes fluttered open. It was still too dark to see what color they were. “Where…where…where am I?”
Her words were English. He spoke English but not on a regular basis so he was a bit rusty, but he’d give it a go.
“Miss, you are on the Lido, one of the Venetian islands. What are you doing here?”
She appeared puzzled for a moment. Raising up on one elbow she frowned and looked
around. “I’m wet.” She rubbed her head and sand from her hand fell onto her face. “And sandy. I, uh…I guess I swam here.”
“You swam here? Why on earth would you do that? Did you come from one of the ships?”
Her frown deepened. “I don’t know. I don’t remember.”
“Maybe just start with your name. Can you tell me your name?”
“I’m not sure.”
“What do you mean, you’re not sure. You can’t remember your name?”
“I uh…no. Well, maybe. I think my name is…Sara. Who are you?”
“My name is Benedict MacIan. Where are you from, Sara? Maybe you fell overboard and I simply need to find the right ship.”
“I don’t know where I’m from. I don’t remember.”
Benedict frowned at her. “You don’t remember who you are and where you’re from?”
She furrowed her brow. “No, I don’t.”
Benedict shook his head. “I’m not sure what’s happening, but I think I should get you inside and dry. Can you stand?”
“I…I believe so.”
He helped her into a sitting position and then onto her feet, but she swayed, falling forward.
His arms were around her instantly. “Whoa there. Perhaps I should carry you.”
He scooped her into his arms. She buried her head against his chest as a trusting child would and it warmed his heart. He carried her to his home. Even though she was very light, he was tired by the time he arrived.
She’d clearly been through some ordeal. In spite of her memory loss, she didn’t have any obvious injuries. Perhaps if she rested, she would recover her memory.
“Sara, I’m going to take you upstairs to a bed. I think after you’ve slept a while you’ll feel better.”
“Yes, I think so. I’m utterly exhausted.”
He probably should put her in the room that his parents had shared, but there were no linens on the bed. He figured it would be best to let her sleep in his own bed for the moment. He sat her on the edge of the bed. It was the first chance he’d had to take a good look at her. Even sandy, damp, and bedraggled, she was lovely. Small of stature, with dark curly hair, creamy fair skin, and crystal blue eyes. The damp silk shift left nothing to the imagination, revealing the clear outline of gently rounded breasts with pert nipples. She also seemed to have a gold chain around her neck on which hung what might be a locket that nestled between her breasts. He sighed. While he could gaze on this lovely sea nymph for hours, she needed dry clothing and sleep.
The Choice: The Pocket Watch Chronicles Page 3