“Well, all right then.” The man wasn’t convinced, but he shrugged and walked off anyway.
I looked down at Romaso, who was sitting in a puddle on the dock, dumfounded, staring.
“Romaso?” I stopped and shook him gently. “Say something to me. Please, anything.”
“I…uh…this, this is the country of my, my Shirlyn?”
“Yes, Romaso. The sailor who pulled you out of the water told me how to get to her house from here. We’re close by, almost there.”
Romaso nodded and dropped his hands from his ears and winced as he stood up and looked around. “Too much noise, Siora.”
So that was part of the problem. Romaso wasn’t used to the sounds of all of the machinery, automobiles and motor-driven seacraft, although he looked at all of these unfamiliar things with curiosity and interest.
“I have so much more to explain to you about this place. Hopefully Shirlyn can help with some of it.”
“I cannot see her like this,” said Romaso while pointing out his drenched clothing.
I looked around. I had very little money with me, all in U.S. dollars.
“Oh, come on, Romaso! Shirlyn knows you’re from Venice where the streets are full of water. And, well, sometimes accidents happen. If she fell into the water before seeing you, you’d still want to see her, right? You wouldn’t care so much, would you?”
Romaso looked thoughtful but said nothing.
“It’s sunny out today and it will take about a half an hour to get to Shirlyn’s house. Maybe you’ll dry enough by then.”
Romaso remained still, his eyes flashing stubbornly through a pained self-consciousness. I understood that pain very, very well, so well in fact that I felt compelled to ask one of the sailors to give Romaso some dry clothing. The sailor accepted a couple of American dollar bills for the clothes. I didn’t know who made out on the deal, but at least Romaso was happier. He followed the sailor to a place where he could change out of his wet clothes while I thought about just how surprised Shirlyn would be when we showed up at her front door.
Romaso’s mood improved with each step toward the Halls’ estate. I got him talking again about Shirlyn, how she would giggle when Romaso would tell a story, her generosity with the gypsy children who roamed the marketplace, the way she impatiently twitched her nose when she disapproved, and always, always how she would return his gaze with eyes of dancing cinnamon.
I had often wondered what it would feel like for a novel to come to life. Not just in my own imagination, but to truly find myself personally interacting with the characters, with the ability to behold the scenery with my own eyes instead of from some dark place inside my head. As we walked along a tidy dirt path, flanked with tall, identically spaced trees, I could smell and taste the written world of Shirlyn’s pen unfiltered by the musty pages that she’d once turned.
In a short period of time, I’d not only been to places that I’d thought about, but also to those I never could have imagined on my own. The treasure of the travel glasses was not just in the method of their transport but in the endless possibilities of where they could take me. I began to realize that I could go wherever and whenever I dreamed. Just like Valcas said, I only needed to search for what I wanted most in that moment.
The Halls’ estate, besides being exactly where and when I needed it to be, was impressive. It was as expansive as a college campus. Smoothly paved sidewalks twisted around patches of bright green grass and sharply trimmed hedges. The sidewalks provided easy access to several lofty brick buildings. The main house was at least three stories high. Vegetables of unnatural shapes and colors intermingled with flowers and field greens. Most would consider this strange for a front garden, but I didn’t. I already knew who lived here, having already met the master of the estate, the man responsible for the odd agriculture.
“Shirlyn lives here?” Romaso gasped.
“Yes. This is definitely the place.”
Romaso frowned.
“Don’t worry. Like I’ve told you, Shirlyn cares for you—loves you—as much as you love her. She wrote about it, remember?”
I knocked on the large stone-framed wooden door and waited. The door opened slightly. A weary female voice called out. “Yes, what is your business here? The family is just home from their trip. We are very busy right now.”
“We are Calla and Romaso. And we’re here to see Shirlyn.” I couldn’t believe the precision of my timing.
“Miss Hall is still unpacking her things. I suggest returning at a later time.”
“Please, ma’am, tell Shirlyn that Romaso has traveled here to see her. He’s come all the way from Venice.”
“A traveler from Venice? Romaso, you say.” A sigh later. “Give me a moment.”
The woman never returned. Instead, the door swung wide open with a burst of giggles.
“Mona, why couldn’t you have just let them in? Romaso, oh I can’t believe it! I just can’t.”
My eyes bugged out of my head. Shirlyn was just as enchanting as Romaso made her out to be. At age sixteen Shirlyn was already model material. I could picture her face on the covers of popular fashion magazines. Shirlyn reached out to squeeze Romaso. He flinched in apology for his appearance—the sailor’s clothes didn’t fit him very well.
“Oh, don’t worry,” gushed Shirlyn. “We’ll get you something else to wear. You really are here! I would have thought that to be completely impossible.” Shirlyn paused.
I waited patiently for an introduction. Seeing that one would not be forthcoming, I cleared my throat. “Hello, Shirlyn. I’m Calla.”
Shirlyn regarded me suspiciously at first. She glanced over at Romaso, whose attention was fully directed to Shirlyn, then back to me. “Are you a relative of Romaso, or is there some other, uh, relationship?”
“Oh, nothing like that.” I blushed. “Romaso and I are merely travel companions. I brought him here. With his help I was able to find you.” Shirlyn would understand my double meaning. “You are exactly as he said you were, in Venice, back in the seventeenth century.”
“Oh, I see. Very good, then please allow me to thank you, Calla. Do come in. I’ll introduce you to my father. We haven’t been home for more than an hour and he’s already out in his workshop.”
“Thanks.” I grinned.
Shirlyn quickly ordered the female servant to take Romaso to a room where he could bathe and change clothes. She then took my hand.
“I’m not exactly sure what’s going on,” Shirlyn whispered, “but it must be very important. You’re a traveler, aren’t you? Poor Romaso must be so confused. Are you in trouble?”
“Yes, but I think you, your family, can help. Can I meet with your father now? I don’t know how much time I have to plan.”
“Certainly. Have a seat while I bring him here to the house.”
The front parlor was clean and quiet, sparsely but expensively furnished. I fidgeted with the contents of my backpack until Shirlyn returned, following closely behind a middle-aged man. His hair used to be brown then, I mused as I watched him walk toward me with a familiar footstep, the only marked difference being that his posture stood somewhat straighter.
“Well, hello there young miss. My name is—”
“Edgar…Edgar Hall.” I looked down at the red journal that was now in my lap. “Shirlyn told me about you too.”
EDGAR AND his daughter looked at each other and then back at me. The inventor drew closer, knelt down on one knee and looked at me through round spectacles.
“I don’t understand. Please explain, dear.”
I blurted out many weeks’ worth of explanation in a rush—a Jet Ski at the lake, the rowboat at the shore, pale blue irises behind dark glasses, fourteen black sails, a five-step waltz, Winston lake, a workshop in the woods, the worn red journal, a black mare separated from its carriage, a dun mustang, the gondolier upstairs, and the instigator behind it all—Valcas.
The Halls listened patiently as I described the chase initiated by Edgar’s nephew, Shirlyn’s cousin
. They’d gasped and murmured, but had not panicked. Thankfully, they also didn’t turn me away. I figured that was because of the two details I’d intentionally left out, an older Edgar and his 1929 Ford, a brand rather popular in England—back in Edgar’s day.
“You and Romaso are welcome to stay with us for as long as you like,” Young Edgar said. “Should Valcas show up here and pose the slightest threat to your safety, he will be escorted off the premises and his parents will be contacted immediately.”
I breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you, Edgar.”
Relief turned into confusion. What could Valcas’ parents do about any of this? If he was the same age as me now, how was it possible that he was alive when Shirlyn was sixteen? It made about as much sense as when Old Edgar told me that Valcas amassed kingdoms for the last fourteen years.
“So, then, you already know Valcas?” I asked.
“Of course,” answered Shirlyn. “He’s nearly the same age as you and me.”
“But he—”
Edgar stood up. “You must be very tired from all that you’ve been through. Mona will have our evening meal on the table soon. I need to attend to a few burners that I left on in my workshop. Please excuse me.”
“Let’s go to the dining room,” said Shirlyn. “Romaso should be ready by now.”
“But Valcas—”
“Yes, he’s a bit odd, probably more so now that his eyes have turned into that ghastly color you mentioned. Don’t worry, though. You’ll be safe here.”
A bit odd was an understatement. Just as I was about to try asking about Valcas’ age again, Romaso walked down the stairs wearing clean gray pants and a blue dress shirt.
“Look at you, Romaso,” Shirlyn fussed.
He mesmerized her with a dimpled smile.
I gave up and followed the reunited couple into the dining room. Wooden paneling lined the walls, complementing the mahogany table and chairs. Soft white carpeting covered the floor.
Mona opened a window to let in the fresh outside air, apologizing that she hadn’t aired out this part of the house since the Halls left for their vacation. Once Edgar and his wife joined us, she served a beautiful meal of poultry roasted with fresh vegetables and a traditional English pudding.
“Calla, this is my wife Elizabeth.”
“Nice to meet you,” I said. “Thank you for letting me and Romaso stay here. I’m sorry I didn’t warn anybody first.”
Elizabeth, evidently the template for Shirlyn’s beauty, looked at me with the same spiced hazel eyes of her daughter. “You’re welcome, dear. It’s not often that others travel to us.”
Then she eyed Shirlyn and Romaso who sat close together, nibbling at their food and staring at each other. “It’s nice to see you again so soon, Romaso.”
“Yes, Mama Hall. You still are so beautiful, you and my Shirlyn.”
“Isn’t this wonderful?” said Edgar as he helped himself to more pudding.
Young Edgar was just as excited about the multi-centurial gathering as Old Edgar would be, especially when Romaso started telling stories about the travelers he’d met and transported through the Grand Canal. No one seemed to find any of this strange.
No one except for me. I sat there with my dinner barely touched, worrying about the friends I’d left behind in search of those I’d recently found. I thought that I would be prepared for this meeting, but seeing a younger version of Edgar triggered emotions from when I’d last seen him at Enta’s home feebly clutching the rocking chair. I could not stop thinking about whether he and Enta survived after I left. Valcas had been so angry with me when he’d given his warning. I worried that the older, white-haired Edgar would not answer if I tried to communicate with him through the glasses, but I would try.
SHIRLYN OFFERED to let me stay in her bedroom that night. The Halls insisted I would be the most comfortable there after all that had happened. I wasn’t so sure, but I gratefully accepted.
Before falling asleep, I slipped the travel glasses over my eyes and whispered in the dark. “Edgar, are you there? Hello? Edgar?”
My heart sank. He didn’t respond.
I quickly removed the glasses in case Valcas happened to be wearing his, which was highly likely given how often he wore the pair I was now using. Figuring that being tired would only make it more difficult to block out unwanted communications, I gave up for the night. I would try again tomorrow.
I WOKE with a start. It took me a moment to figure out where I was. I pushed aside the frilly pink bedspread and sat up. The bed I was on was in an actual bedroom, so I knew that I wasn’t at Edgar’s workshop in the woods.
I padded across the floor to a window draped in ruffled pink fabric and looked outside. This bedroom was on the third floor, too high up to be Enta’s house, but just far enough above the grounds for me to be able to see a workshop nestled behind the main house. Edgar was there. I could see him through the wide rectangular window that overlooked his lab sink. He wasn’t the Edgar I’d left at Enta’s, but a younger version, the Edgar that existed pre-travel glasses.
Multiple memories returned from the night before, flooding my muddled brain. Shirlyn had taken one of the Halls’ many guest rooms for the night, giving me her own bedroom so that I could take my time in finding something to wear when I woke up. I knew this would be awkward since Shirlyn was much taller than me and pencil thin. But I’d given in because I hadn’t had time to wash any of my own clothes since I left Enta’s home.
I couldn’t find anything close to a pair of jeans in her closet or chest of drawers, so I settled for a simple blue A-line dress and a white cardigan sweater. After washing my face in an adjoining toilet room, I went downstairs and found Shirlyn and Romaso in the dining room where Mona had set out fruit juices and an assortment of pastries.
Breakfast was also awkward. Edgar and his wife, Elizabeth, were not there, and I was surprised that no one tried to wake me up earlier. Shirlyn and Romaso looked at me with curiosity as I sat down at the table and helped myself to a crumpet. Both were silent.
After a few moments Shirlyn cleared her throat. She sat there looking at me, her lips pursed, her eyes blazing indignantly. At first I thought that maybe she wanted to be alone with Romaso, that I was intruding on their couple’s moment or something. But then Shirlyn asked me a strange question.
“Excuse me, but, where did you get those clothes?”
I looked at her blankly. “From your room.”
“What business did you have in my room?”
My eyebrows twisted together. “Last night you told me to stay in your room so that I could find something to wear when I woke up.”
“Ah,” she said, looking thoughtful. “I wondered why I woke up in a guest room, and then I found Romaso wandering around in the hallway.”
I nodded. No doubt all of this was even more confusing for Romaso. Confusion seemingly didn’t prevent him from making kissy faces at Shirlyn, though. Before long, Romaso and Shirlyn seemed to have tuned me out in favor of flirting with each other. Romaso charmed her with dimples and compliments. She responded with lash batting and giggles.
I retreated to the comfort of my own thoughts. I needed to speak with Edgar, but I hadn’t been able to contact Old Edgar and wasn’t sure how to approach Young Edgar under the circumstances. I had so many questions and was unsure where to go from here. Before long, I felt two pairs of eyes watching me again.
“Will you join us?” repeated an impatient Shirlyn, her nose twitching.
“Yes? Sorry. What was the question?”
Pastry crumbs escaped Romaso’s mouth as he laughed. “Siora does not hear. She is not with us.”
“We were talking about how I was going to take Romaso for a tour of the house and gardens. I asked if you would like to come along.”
“Yes I would.” My smile was sincere. There was a lot of research to be done. I was eager to find anything that could help me figure out some way to permanently escape Valcas.
Just as we got up to leave the ta
ble, Young Edgar entered the dining room followed by Elizabeth. Shirlyn hugged her parents, explaining that we’d just finished breakfast and that she was going to take us on a tour of the Halls’ estate.
“Your guests may also like a tour of the harbor,” suggested Edgar. “I’ll be in my workshop most of the day. Several of my projects are starting to come together. An extended holiday was precisely what I needed—refreshment and a clearer perspective.”
“I’ll see to it that you aren’t disturbed.” Elizabeth smiled.
“Very good,” Edgar said as he sat down and unfolded a napkin.
My neck prickled as I walked away from the table with Shirlyn and Romaso. Young Edgar didn’t appear to be the slightest bit concerned about anything I told him last night. Valcas was still on my trail. Old Edgar wouldn’t have let me go anywhere that morning without having first formulated a plan. He would have been actively helping me prepare my next move. The plan would have been in motion before breakfast. Yet, there sat his younger self eating crumpets unarmed after a full night’s sleep.
“ARE WE ready, then?”
Shirlyn had already placed her arm in Romaso’s arm, ready to start the tour.
Her house tour took up the greater part of the morning, although it could have lasted several days. The Halls’ estate was more amazing than any museum I’d ever seen. Collections of fine art lined miles worth of hallways that connected a hive of guest rooms filled with family heirlooms. There was an entire wing devoted to the progression of medical instruments. From time to time I glanced over at Romaso to gauge his reactions. I shared his discomfort in seeing machines that hadn’t existed when and where he’d lived, but I couldn’t imagine the inadequacy he must have felt beside his beautiful and ludicrously wealthy Shirlyn. My family was pretty well-off due to all of the time Mom spent working, but nothing like this. From what I could tell, the Halls were “old money.”
The house tour ended in a trophy room. Romaso fidgeted and paced as if he couldn’t spend any more time indoors absorbing the Halls’ estate. I, on the other hand, could have toured the house for weeks. There was so much to see and we hadn’t even been outside yet. I thought about the travel glasses sitting in my backpack, hoping that I could come back for another visit someday. The trophy room contained various historical artifacts that the Hall family had either inherited or purchased at auction. Displays of rifles, polished swords and shields bearing coats of arms crowded the room. Shirlyn was proudly pointing out a large oak shelf filled with porcelain dolls when an ornate curio cabinet caught my eye. It held shelves filled with black and white photographs framed in silver and rows of leather-bound albums.
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