by Sherry Ewing
“Dammit! I can’t believe I did that. I’ll never get this letter ready for the runner to make his way to Lancashire.”
The sound of metal grinding against stone stopped when Amiria looked up from the dagger she was sharpening. “What is troubling you so?”
Jenna put the quill down and sat back in the chair. She had spent many hours in the woman’s solar to the point she now could relax with comfort in the company of her new friend. “I thought I heard…something.”
“What?”
“It sounded like someone was crying, although, I don’t hear it now.”
“I heard nothing.” Amiria inspected the blade’s edge by testing it with her thumb. Since she resumed running it along the stone again, Jenna surmised the dagger didn’t pass her standards of being sharp enough.
“I wish you would just let me use one of the pens I have in my purse,” Jenna fumed in frustration. “I would already be done with this letter instead of having to figure out the intricacies of using quill and ink.”
“’Tis not wise, and you know that would not be the purpose of these instructions. We have already had this conversation, so you best learn how to write your missive with the tools afore you,” Amiria explained with a firm voice.
“Fine.” Still miffed she wasn’t getting her way, Jenna crumbled the parchment into a wad, even though it was heavier than the paper of her time. She arched her arm and watched the paper ball as she tossed it across the room.
“Yes!” Jenna called out with a triumphant smile for having hit her target before watching the fire greedily consume its latest prize. Within seconds, there was nothing left of its original form but ash going up the chimney. She began doing a little chair dance, held up her arms, and began waving them about as if she had just scored the tying run in a baseball game.
Once again, Amiria stopped working on sharpening her blade and sighed with her own sense of frustration. “Jenna─”
“What did I do now?” she huffed. For over two weeks now, Amiria had been relentless about teaching her the way things were done here at Berwyck. Jenna knew she had been trying the woman’s patience, but it was a lot to take in, not having the advantages and conveniences of the modern world.
Amiria stood and picked up her stool then brought it over to the small desk next to where Jenna was seated. One look in those violet eyes, and she knew she had erred, yet again.
“I know we have gone over this but briefly, Jenna,” Amiria began. She sounded as if she were talking to a child. “You must needs remember that anything and everything has a purpose here. No matter how small and insignificant you may think something is, it still may be of some use in other areas.”
“Are you talking about the paper…umm…parchment?”
“Aye, I am. Just because ’twas no longer useable to send your missive, the parchment could have been used elsewhere, mayhap the kitchen or even the garderobe.”
“I didn’t think─”
“And that is the root of the problem you are having whilst you continue to adjust being here. You must needs think as though you belong in the twelfth century, and not the twenty-first. Everything has value, Jenna. In the case of the parchment, ’tis a costly bit of luxury you let go up in smoke.”
Jenna fingered the quill with trembling fingers. How stupid of her for being so thoughtless. “I thought I’d been doing so well.”
“I am not passing judgment on you, nor do I wish to be the cause for you to be dispirited. I am doing my best to instill the foresight and need for you to look at everything through a different way of understanding.”
“I never thought of something as simple as a piece of paper being a luxury. I’m sorry, Amiria.”
“There is no need for you to apologize. Only learn the lesson from your mistakes,” Amiria counseled, rising to take her stool back by the fire. “Your world must be rich in goods that you can easily toss aside something that has so much value here.”
Jenna shrugged. “Yes, I suppose it is, and, until now, I never realized how careless we’ve become.”
Amiria went back to her task. “There is no need to fret over something that canna be changed. Now…start again. If we are to send a runner to Lancashire, he shall need to leave soon so he can arrive afore nightfall.”
Jenna took another sheet of parchment and studied it as she ran her fingertips over the somewhat rough edges, marveling at what she held. With a firm purpose in mind, she began again, almost willing herself to not smudge the ink. She would not fail this time.
Fletcher had been gone over a month, and, with each passing day, she missed him more and more. He was her anchor, keeping her safe in the harbor, and, without him near, she was completely adrift, like a ship without a rudder, a canoe without its oars, only one half of two souls who were meant to be together. She had hoped upon hope he would send for her or come for her himself, but she had heard nothing. What if he had changed his mind? How could she stay here in this century without him?
Instead of fighting her every word along the way, the quill seemed to be on friendlier terms in her hand now. Jenna had a feeling of accomplishment when she finished until she heard a woman crying, yet again.
“Did you hear that?” Jenna asked, expecting Amiria to confirm she had heard the wailing, as well.
“Nay, I hear nothing, Jenna.”
“Oh, come on now! How can you not hear that? The woman is crying her heart out.” Upset, Jenna rose from her chair and opened the solar door. Looking right and then left, she saw nothing to give evidence anyone was in the passageway.
Amiria crooked her head to one side, listening intently, but only shook her head after several minutes. “I am most sorry, Jenna, but I hear nothing.”
Jenna turned back to her friend with tears in her eyes. “Her crying is breaking my heart. Why is that?”
“I canna say, but I know someone who may be able to answer your questions if he will show himself to you.”
“And who may he be?”
“Sir Rolf,” she answered solemnly. “He is most likely the cause of how you arrived here.”
Amiria took her by the arm and began ushering her down the corridor until they went up the spiraling turret stairs to the roof. Careful to watch her footing, Jenna made her way up along the narrow parapet behind her friend. Jenna tried to keep her eyes on the horizon and not think of the dizzying height that made her feel as though she were standing on the edge of a cliff.
“I will leave you here so you may have some privacy.” Amiria gave her a brief hug.
“But─”
Her hand came up. “Nay…I believe ’tis something you must do on your own.”
She left Jenna wondering what she was to do now and why Amiria always felt she must breach these hurdles on her own. Apprehension filled her while she became lost in thoughts of what was to happen next. A sudden gust of wind came upon her, whipping her hair around her face. She grabbed at the troublesome locks and had just managed to get a hold of them when she gasped aloud and tried not to freak out too much by what she was seeing. How was it possible she was seeing a real, nearly corporeal ghost?
Chapter 23
It wasn’t every day a ghost appeared standing next to her, as if he had all the time in the world to appear, or not, at his whim. He looked slightly ill at ease, and Jenna wondered why. Maybe it had to do with how he died. Jenna couldn’t say, and who was she to question someone not of this world. The longer she stared at him, the more lifelike he became. She shouldn’t have been surprised that his outer appearance was of a similar style as all of Dristan’s personal guard. Jet black hair reaching down to his shoulders, green piercing eyes she swore could see deep inside her soul, gut wrenchingly handsome, and built like the strong warrior he had been.
“You must be Sir Rolf,” Jenna spoke with her voice shaking in disbelief that she was actually going to have a conversation with a spirit.
Rolf gave her a formal bow. “Lady Jenna.”
He said not another word while he looked h
er up and down, almost as if he was assessing her to see if she would be worthy of having his friend in her life. The silence became uncomfortable while those stunning eyes of his continued his perusal. Jenna began shuffling her feet, but then stopped abruptly when she heard the weeping of a woman again. A sad reminder of what was troubling her in the first place.
“Who is she, and why is she so distressed?” Jenna whispered, sensing with all her heart Rolf would know the answer.
His mouth turned down into a grim line. “I feel I may have done you a disservice, my lady, by having you brought here, no matter how right such a happening seemed at the time.”
“I’m afraid, I don’t understand, Sir Rolf. Not that any of this whole scenario makes a lot of sense, with the exception of Fletcher. Will he come back soon?”
“So many questions, and yet, I fear, I cannot answer them all.”
“Perhaps, we should start with the simplest one then. Will he come back soon?”
“Aye.”
“Will we be happy?”
His brow quirked upward. “That remains to be seen. The future of your lives can go in many different directions, my lady. One choice can hurtle events in a completely altered course than what may have originally been planned. But such is the way of all things, is it not?”
“Yes, I suppose you’re right,” Jenna replied, leaning her elbows on the edge of the wall while gazing out at the ocean beach far below the cliff the castle was perched upon. “Who is she?” she whispered as her words were carried out into the wind.
“’Tis your mother.” Rolf’s solemn answer tore at Jenna’s heart.
“Here? How is it even possible I can hear her cries across eight hundred years?”
“You ask of such a startling issue but do not question the reality you yourself have crossed time?”
“Of course, I question it. Almost every single waking moment, I question it. I just don’t understand how I am hearing my mother.”
“She is heartbroken you are gone. As I said, I may have done you a disservice bringing you here, although I am not completely to blame.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Time…’tis not as reliable as one may think.”
“Are you trying to confuse me? If you are, then you’re doing a great job of it.”
Rolf only shrugged. “Time is like the grains of sand in an hour glass. When first tipped over, the tiny granules fall to the empty bottom. One thinks one has all the time in the world to accomplish what one sets out to do for the day. And yet, as the glass fills up, those same grains of sand seem to move at a faster pace ’til there is nothing left, and one must needs start all over again.”
“And what exactly is that supposed to mean?”
“You have been gone from your century a long while. Hence, your mother has given up all hope you will be found.”
Jenna turned to the ghostly apparition with narrowed eyes. “I’ve only been gone a little over a month. Surely, she would not give up hope, as yet? I haven’t really been gone all that long.”
“My Lady Jenna, in your time, you have been gone, as you would say, for over six months.” Rolf’s grim expression told her he wasn’t lying.
“Six months? Oh my God…”
“The connection between mother and daughter is indeed great for you to be able to hear her pain over the span of time. My intervention in the cause for you being here was selfish on my part with my desire to see my friend happy. He needed someone not of this world. Someone much like Lady Katherine. You were, and are, that someone.”
“But my mother…how can I just leave her to grieve, not knowing whether I’ve been abducted or have ended my own life?”
“And that, my dear, is the conundrum with which I have been faced. But ’tis you who must make the choice on the direction of your path now.”
“What choice do I have?”
“’Tis not so simple a decision I place afore you, yet I offer you the choice all the same. But I must needs warn you, whichever path you should decide upon, may cost you much. Go back to your place in history, along with your life in the future, or stay here with Fletcher and see if love will blossom between you.”
“That’s not fair!”
“Life never is…”
“How am I to choose between my mother and the one man whom everyone keeps telling me I crossed time for?” she yelled. Tears spilled down her cheeks at the injustice of it all. She knew within her heart there was a connection to Fletcher she had never felt with another. Yet, how could she live with herself knowing she was the cause of her mother’s pain, and that she would hear her grief-stricken cries for the rest of her life across eight hundred years? She really wasn’t left any choice, at all.
“He will understand,” Rolf said, knowing her decision before she even voiced what she, too, knew would be her inevitable choice.
“No, he won’t. He’ll feel betrayed and more lost than he was before I even landed practically at his feet.” There was no sense in making some hollow attempt to convince herself she would be happy with Fletcher if she stayed here. She had to put the needs of her mother in front of her own desires, no matter that she would be giving up the one person with whom she could fall hopelessly and completely in love. “How do I go back…umm…forward?” Her soft spoken words betrayed all the hurt she was experiencing at leaving Fletcher behind.
“Head back down to the shore where you first arrived here. Just think or say where you wish to go. Time will take care of the rest,” Rolf answered.
“And the guards? How am I to leave the grounds when I’m always watched?”
“Let me worry about the guards. Suffice to say, you will leave Berwyck unseen, if such is your wish.”
A sigh of regret escaped her as she wiped the tears from her face. Rolf’s face showed his own sign of guilt. “I’m not sorry you brought me here, Sir Rolf. Actually, I’m really very thankful.”
“I must offer my apologies that I disrupted your life,” he replied softly then smiled warmly.
She waved away his words. “You don’t have to do that. You’ve given me an opportunity to see how people in your world actually lived. This view into the past has been a wonderful gift, if nothing else,” Jenna murmured sadly.
“Then I am happy this journey through time has given you even the smallest measure of pleasure, my lady.” Rolf bowed to her, and Jenna knew her time with Fletcher was over.
She saw Rolf begin to fade from her vision. “Please, tell Fletcher─” She choked back a sob before she could continue. “Oh God…tell him…I’ll always…love him.”
Jenna didn’t wait for his reply before she ran from the rooftop of the keep. She continued her frantic pace down the stairs until she came to the floor with her, rather, Fletcher’s, chamber. There wasn’t much to grab, since she didn’t have a lot with her that was her own. Before she changed her mind, she reached beneath the bed to grab her purse and took one last look at where Fletcher would once more sleep when he returned to Berwyck.
“Hurry, Lady Jenna. There is no further time to waste.” Rolf’s words echoed inside her head.
Without another backward glance, she left, running as fast as her feet would carry her. Her frantic flight took her down the rest of the turret, through the great hall and baileys, and past the barbican gate before she knew it. She had no idea how to get down to the beach, yet, she feared not, for it seemed Rolf was guiding her along the way.
The place on the beach where she had first hurtled through the time gate seemed unchanged. The sand beneath her feet was just as soft and familiar, and she experienced the same sense of comfort she always had felt whenever she was near the ocean. The sound of the waves as the sea crashed into the shore was as turbulent as her emotions that rushed through her entire being.
Jenna gave into the desire to look back at Berwyck, and everything that could have been, one last time before turning forward with a heavy sigh of resignation. The ocean was on her right, the bolder where she first espied Fletcher
to her left. She closed her eyes and whispered to the wind or the time travel faeries to listen to her plea.
“Take me to…my…time…at…” The words seemed stuck in her throat, and she now carelessly tossed them out, not thinking completely what she was uttering. “Take me to my favorite Cliff House.”
Opening her eyes with a sucking sound ringing in her ears, the space in front of her became distorted. Without any hesitation, she stepped forward and once again was thrust through the never ending feeling of being torn in two. She could have sworn, as she was taken into Time’s grasp, she heard Fletcher’s beloved voice shouting her name.
Chapter 24
This could not be happening, and yet ’twas so. She was leaving him. A dark sickening grief filled his heart afore it slammed into the pit of his stomach.
“Jenna!”
Fletcher could hardly believe what he was seeing as he pushed Fury to reach where Jenna had just disappeared right afore his very eyes. He had known something was wrong when he awoke in the middle of the night. Without hesitation, he had torn through the castle in order to get himself to the stable. He had never harnessed a horse so fast in his life, and he left Lancashire to ride with all speed throughout what remained of the night.
She was leaving him when he had told her to wait. He had known this without questioning the truth of it during his long and frantic ride. But, why? Why would she choose to go back from whence she had come when they were meant to be together? Mayhap, he was the only one who was experiencing these first stirrings of love, but he would demand of her the unnerving answer to his query that tormented him with thoughts of his life without her.
By God, he would not lose her. He leapt from his horse and dived head first into the unnatural portal that was closing fast in front of him. He was not prepared, nor could he fully describe what was happening to him whilst he tumbled about. He called out for Jenna. Was he completely insane that he thought he heard her answering call, no matter how altered it sounded to his ears?