A Love Trapped in Time

by Bree Wolf

  “Okay,” she said slowly. “Grandma freaky, duly noted.” A grin appeared on her face. “Don’t worry, my parents are worse. They used to drive me crazy on a daily basis. God, I’m glad I don’t live with them anymore.” She slumped down on the bed. “Why is it that parents–or grandparents–can’t be normal? I mean, we are and it’s not that difficult.”

  I couldn’t help but laugh. “You consider yourself normal?”

  She eyed me through eyes that were only narrow slits now. “You should too if you value your life.” That settled it.

  ***

  On Christmas Eve, the plan was to get up early and drive to town to get a Christmas tree. However, the only one actually sticking to it was its grand architect. Grandma was up hours before either one of us managed to so much as open an eye, let alone two. In the end we had a quick lunch and then headed out after that.

  “Do I have to go?” Abby whined. “I won’t be much help any way.” She shook her head in vehemence. “What am I saying? I won’t be any help at all.” She turned to me. “I’m not touching that thing. It’s too heavy for me any way. I’ll just break a nail. And besides, Christmas trees don’t like me, they always prick me. It’s not fair that you make me go. Maybe I should talk to your grandma. She’ll understand that a tiny person like me will do more harm than good. Who knows? Maybe it’ll fall on me and I’ll be crushed. You won’t forgive yourself if that happens. My bones are very brittle.”

  She went on and on and on and wouldn’t shut up until I promised her she wouldn’t have to touch the ‘thing’. Apparently, Christmas trees were pure evil and had only one goal, which was to crush people with brittle bones. They were always on the look-out.

  Once assured that she wouldn’t be asked to help out, Abby again turned into the chatty, good-natured girl we all knew. The relatively short trip was pleasant enough, although it took longer than anticipated because the road here and there was blanketed by a film of ice. At one point, we actually almost slid into an overgrown ditch. By the time we finally made it to the village, my grandma’s nerves were so tense that she was unable to enjoy the search for the just-right Christmas tree. In the end, it was Abby and Andy who found one that even my grandma was happy with. However, Abby refused to have any part in loading it onto the car.

  Giving my brother a hand here and there, I watched how he expertly strapped the tree to the car roof. And after a few words of praise–some of them coming from Abby to which he blushed slightly, we invited him to a hot beverage and walked over to the Christmas stalls selling all kinds of drinks and foods that were appreciated in cold seasons. These stalls were aligned in two rows down Main Street leaving just enough room for two cars to squeeze through. However, in winter most people tended to walk and some even pulled little sleighs behind them, filled with their purchases or occupied by their children. It was a beautiful scene.

  I had a hot chocolate, and after feeling warmed up again, we all returned to the car. Getting in, I suddenly stopped.

  Across the street by a stall selling pretzels stood my mystery guy.

  And this time I only hesitated for a second. Still keeping my eyes on him, I said, “I’ll meet you guys at home.”

  “What’s going on?” Abby asked from the back seat.

  “Nothing. I just saw someone I know. I’ll meet you at the house.” I closed the door without waiting for a reply.

  Rounding the car and carefully picking my way across the street, I saw him turn and walk down Main Street. Again I wondered why he did what he did. I strangely felt reminded of a dog unable to say what it wanted but trying to guide its master to a place that would have the answers.

  At first walking on the sidewalk I gained on him a little and thought I’d manage to catch up but then he headed out of the village, walking down the path leading to the lake we used to skate on when we were little. However, after a girl had almost died after breaking through the ice, it had been fenced in and signs had been set up prohibiting any ice-skating. The ice just wasn’t thick enough.

  Out here, the unpaved roads were almost completely covered with ice. I slipped several times, landing on my butt and almost twisting my ankle. But looking up at him, he walked as though the ice didn’t bother him at all. He didn’t slip nor look in any way bothered by the condition of the ground. He was completely sure-footed. It made all this seem even more surreal than ever.

  He put a little more distance between us but whenever I fell, he stopped and waited, looking back at me. Even from farther away I thought I could still detect that glimpse of impatience on his face; as though he was expecting me to be more nimble.

  Busy with concentrating on staying on my feet and not losing him, I hadn’t paid any attention to where we were going and was surprised to find myself at the lake. He stood there by the fence, right next to the sign reading No Ice-skating. I stopped and waited and for a while we just looked at each other. Then I rediscovered my voice and asked the most pressing question on my mind. “Who are you?”

  A smile spread over his face, lighting up his eyes, and suddenly I felt a weird sense of recognition. But I still couldn’t remember his name, how I knew him or who he was to me.

  And he didn’t say a word; didn’t give any explanation. Instead, he turned around and climbed over the fence, stepping onto the frozen lake.

  “Don’t!” I warned, carefully approaching the fence. “It’s not safe.”

  He walked a few steps onto the lake, completely unimpressed by the danger under his feet, and then turned around to look at me again. His eyes found mine and I felt like he beckoned me forward.

  “Some risks are worth taking,” he suddenly said. But before I could reply, he turned around and walked across the frozen lake toward the woods on the other side.

  I just stood there, watching. I saw him cross the lake safely and head into the woods framing the banks to the east. He didn’t turn around again but soon disappeared between the trees.

  I didn’t know how long I waited there. Waited for what exactly? For him to return? For answers to suddenly reveal themselves? I felt reluctant to leave. For whatever reason. Only when the cold slowly crawled up my spine and a shiver settled on my body, I realized that my feet had long since turned to ice.

  Finally pulling myself away, I headed home.

  Chapter Twelve - Peaceful

  Arriving home, completely frozen through, I was welcomed by a beautifully decorated Christmas tree and a delicious smell wafting over from the kitchen and filling the entire house. My grandma ran around, looking for last minute ingredients to her turkey and dressing. Breathing in, I also detected the aroma of mashed potatoes and apple pie.

  In the meantime, Abby and Andy had set up the tree and started dressing it with lights and ornaments. Obviously, Abby had found an exception to her I won’t touch that thing rule. They both looked happy, especially Andy. Whenever Abby wasn’t looking, his eyes lingered on her.

  “There you are,” Abby said when she saw me, sounding slightly annoyed. “What took you so long? Where the bloody hell have you been?”

  Andy’s face suddenly lost its glow. Apparently, he wasn’t all too happy about my sudden appearance.

  “I just took a walk,” I mumbled, heading upstairs to change. The moment I stepped out of the bathroom though, Abby was there waiting for me.

  I raised my eyebrows questioningly.

  “Don’t look at me like that,” she chided. “You know exactly why I am here.”

  “I do not have a clue,” I said, knowing exactly why she was there. “Why don’t you give me a hint?”

  “Funny,” she said, calling my bluff. “Who is he?”

  “He who?” I asked, playing innocent. I really didn’t feel like talking to her; especially be-cause I couldn’t really tell her anything. But I should’ve known that she wouldn’t just walk away. I’d never known her to.

  “Okay, not funny anymore,” she said, crossing her arms. “Now, we can do this the easy way or the hard way. It’s up to you.”

>   I chuckled. “You sound like someone out of a bad cop movie.”

  She just shrugged. “I don’t care. It’ll do the trick. So, dish. I saw the guy you went after. Just because I’m a little self-involved, doesn’t mean I don’t notice what’s going on around me.”

  I smiled at her. That was Abby. Brutally honest, even about herself. It was a rare treat. Only few people were self-confident enough to tell the truth, no matter what about.

  “Fine,” I said, giving up. “It’s a guy I’ve…been seeing around now and then.” I didn’t mention that now and then included future events. “But he always takes off quickly and I didn’t really get to talk to him. So you see, there isn’t much to tell.”

  “Maybe what you are not saying is more important.”

  I frowned. “What are you talking about?”

  She smiled at me. “I mean that you obviously like him.”

  “I didn’t say I liked him,” I objected strongly.

  “Duh.” She raised her eyebrows at me. “But you see, that’s the beauty of having me as your best friend,” she said, almost glowing with pride. “Just because you didn’t say it doesn’t mean I don’t know it. Doesn’t that make life a lot easier?”

  “Easier, or more annoying?” I mumbled.

  “Now, don’t be all grumpy and come to dinner,” she said, still as cheerful as before. “You have to admit, slightly obsessive or not, your grams can cook. It smells delicious. I’m glad we’re only staying a few days or you’d probably have to roll me out of here.”

  So we went downstairs, helped with the rest of the preparations and spent the rest of the night eating more than we ever had. And since Abby refrained from asking any more questions I couldn’t really answer, it actually turned out to be a wonderful evening. Comfortable. Quiet. Peaceful. The perfect Christmas.

  The next morning we only had a light breakfast because last night’s binge-eating didn’t leave much room for anything else. Neither one of us felt really hungry yet and so we decided to go for a short walk before exchanging presents.

  It was a beautiful day but since the streets were still iced over, we cut across country and tramped through the deep snow, oftentimes sinking in to our knees. It was wonderful and re-minded us of our childhood. Feeling all carefree and exuberant, we had a snowball fight, built a snowman and made snow angels.

  Now and then looking at my grandma I could see how much she loved having us back here. Too occupied with our own lives, it had been a long time since either one of us had come for a visit and I promised her we’d be back soon.

  Only when the cold and wet of the snow started seeping through our clothing and we started to shiver did we turn back, heading home. But this time we took a different route, which led us by the frozen lake. I stopped for a moment looking over to the other side where I had stood the day before. For a second I half-expected to see him. But there was no one there.

  “Something wrong?” Abby asked.

  I shook my head, putting on a smile. “It’s just so beautiful.”

  She nodded. “Yeah, I love it here. We should come by more often.” She cast a glance at my grandma and said in a slightly louder voice, “But your grams probably wouldn’t want us here too often after all the trouble we’ve caused her.”

  “Oh, no, girl. That’s silly,” my grandma assured her, hastening over. “I always welcome your company.”

  Abby grinned at me, satisfied. “Then we are invited more often?”

  “Anytime,” my grandma said, chuckling. “You’ll be lucky if I let you leave.”

  That settled it. Both Abby and my grandmother were floating on air. The standing invitation suited them both. My grandma loved taking care of others, and the more people she could dote on, the happier she was. And after growing up with endlessly fighting parents, Abby enjoyed the peace and quiet of my grandma’s house more than anything.

  The rest of the day passed in the same fashion. We exchanged presents under the Christmas tree, had some eggnog, and played board games. By any standards it probably was a pretty boring day, but we loved it. We laughed and teased, told stories and shared memories; and it was long past midnight when we finally headed to bed.

  At night I woke once, hearing the cry of an owl somewhere in the distance. But snuggling back into my covers, I turned around and went back to sleep, once again hearing a voice speaking to me. And there in the background was a beeping sound, as if following the rhythm of the speaker’s heartbeat. It was steady but unusually monotonous, and something about it was very unsettling, once again giving me a nagging sense of foreboding.

  Book Four

  Chapter Thirteen - Again

  An annoying beeping sound reached my ear. After a while though, I realized that it was different from the one I kept hearing in my dreams. The intervals were not the same, and the sound was too irritating to endure a moment longer. I opened my eyes, staring at the ceiling, and as though it was a reflex, my hand reached out and turned off the alarm clock on my nightstand.

  The moment my eyes focused on what they saw, my heart started beating faster. Trying to focus on what I’d expected to see, I closed them again. Just for a moment. But when I opened them once more, the scenery was still the same. And not the one I remembered from the night before when I had gone to bed.

  I took a deep breath. It had happened again. Just by looking at the ceiling I could tell that I was back in my apartment and not in my grandma’s cottage any more. The only question was, which year was it this time? Had I traveled forward or backward? And what would await me outside my door?

  Turning to the side, my eyes focused on the metallic alarm clock. It was 10am. And right next to it, there lay another book. But as expected, it was not Shakespeare’s Hamlet any more. I picked it up and found myself looking at the cover of Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice. I flipped it open and also as expected I found the engraved, silver bookmark on page 21.

  Somehow the books seemed to be connected to my time shifts. With every shift, I found another one of my mother’s books on my nightstand. But I always found the same book clip in it, only on a different page.

  I grabbed a sweater and, pulling it on, I carefully opened the door a crack, peering outside. There were only small differences to the last time I’d been in the apartment. Walking through the living room and toward the kitchen, I didn’t come across any of Abby’s or Andy’s stuff. Everything was quite tidy, nothing lying around. Whenever this was, they must not be living here.

  In the kitchen, I found the table set for me. Pancakes with syrup. And next to the plate, there was a note.

  Morning Sweetie, sorry, I had to run. Didn’t want to wake you. See you at the movies. Love you, Owen

  Again it clicked and memories of Owen and our time together rushed back into my mind. Turning to the fridge, I looked at the calendar, confirming my suspicion. It was March 2008.

  So I had moved forward in time. Just not all the way. My last memory was of 2011. This was three years too early.

  I slammed my fist on the table, making the syrup bottle dance and the fork clatter against the plate. This couldn’t be happening again.

  But it had. And there was nothing I could do about it. I had absolutely no control.

  I desperately wanted to get back to my life in my own time but it seemed so far out of reach that in that moment I honestly believed I would never be able to just move on, in a normal way. I didn’t want to be dragged around, back and forth, like someone’s toy. Like a play ball in a game that didn’t get to choose if it even wanted to play.

  But I knew I had no choice in the matter. The only thing I could make a choice about was how to deal with what was happening. I could hide in my bed and ignore the world, pretending that what was going on was not real. But if there was one thing I felt sure of, in spite of how surreal, bizarre and absurd all this was, it was the fact that it was happening. I wasn’t dreaming or hallucinating. This was my life. I recognized every little bit of it. I had shaped it. I had chosen my path. No
t everything had turned out the way I’d hoped for, but that made it all the more convincing. It was just life, the good and the bad, and now, the surreal. And I knew then and there that whatever would happen from then onward, I would always choose option two. I would deal with whatever came at me. I would go outside and find out what was going on. If there was a way to return to normal, whatever normal was, I was certain it could not be found hiding from the world, but only by walking through it.

  So I got dressed, had breakfast, and then went outside, following my plan. It was 2008 and I was still working at City Gardens. Entering the restaurant it felt so familiar and at the same time light years away. I couldn’t trust my own intuition regarding how much time had passed since I’d last been here.

  The place was bustling with customers. Since Leo had changed the opening hours, now from 8 A.M. to 10 P.M., hired more personnel and adapted the menu to appeal to any customer he could think of; it had become one of the hotspots of town. It started with people coming in for breakfast, followed by brunch, lunch, some kind of afternoon in-between, and then of course, dinner, which still was the busiest time of the day.

  “Hey Jena, there you are,” Abby greeted me, hurrying by. I just helloed back and went to work.

  Although I really wanted to talk to her, I had to wait until we got off for a late lunch break at three. The place was packed, and I barely managed to catch my breath in-between orders.

  Sinking onto the couch in the employee lounge, Abby threw me a wrapped sandwich, expecting me to catch it. I didn’t and it landed on the floor.

  “I really do not intend to bust your dreams,” she said, her face overly serious. “But if I were you, I’d kiss off that career in basketball or anything else that involves catching of any kind.”

  I just grinned at her, unwrapping my sandwich, and took a big bite. I was famished, which always made food taste better.