“I can’t ask you—”
“First, you didn’t ask me. And second, I suspect you want the new pediatric wing as much as everyone else at NYUHC does. I am about to fully fund that endeavor in exchange for a few days of your time. Would you refuse that offer if you were the chief of pediatrics?”
“No, sir.”
“Then I’m fairly certain you will be sent home before your next shift is over. Then I want you at my house with flowers and ring in hand. Do you understand me?”
“Yes, sir. Flowers and ring. I’ll be there.”
~ * ~
Just as Aldous Sinclair promised, early the next afternoon, Gabe was paged to Dr. Sweeny’s office.
“I’m not sure what you did, Gabe, but the obscenely wealthy Aldous Sinclair has just donated millions of dollars to NYUHC—every last remaining penny we needed to build the pediatric center. And his only stipulation was for you to be given the rest of today and tomorrow off.”
“Will that be a problem?”
“A problem? Is that a trick question? Sign your patients out to me. I’ll finish this shift for you and get coverage tomorrow or do it myself.”
Gabe gave Sweeny a quick rundown of his patients.
“Okay, just let the unit staff know and then get the hell out of here. Millions, Gabe, in one fat check. Thank you for whatever it was you did to put this bug up his ass.”
Gabe smiled wryly and shrugged. I broke his daughter’s heart didn’t seem like an explanation Dr. Sweeny would appreciate.
On his way home from the hospital, he stopped to buy the requisite flowers. It would have been simple to be traditional and pick up a dozen red roses, but he remembered the morning they had strolled through the flower markets. She had taken such pleasure in seeing the extraordinary variety of blooms, but she had fallen in love with the delicate blue irises. The old woman told her they represented faith and hope.
No, roses wouldn’t do. He wanted it to mean more. Elizabeth knew flowers had meanings. The old woman agreed. Flowers speak a language of their own. As he looked at the vast array of blossoms, he wanted his choices to mean something, but he didn’t speak the language.
A woman about his mother’s age wearing a florist’s apron approached him. “You look confused.”
“I am confused. I want a bouquet of flowers for the woman I love. I’m going to ask her to marry me.” Saying the words aloud brought a broad smile to his face.
“I see. Most fellas just go for the red roses.”
“I know, but I want something unique. I want the flowers to mean more.”
“Let’s see what we can find. You will want at least a few red roses—they are the symbol of passionate love.”
He grinned. “Yes, I suppose I do.”
“Do you know what she likes?”
“She loves irises, and I know they represent faith and hope.”
“That is an excellent choice. What else?”
“My heritage is Italian. Is there a national flower or something for Italy?”
She chuckled. “Some say red roses because of the passionate nature of Italians, but lilies are generally considered symbols of Italy. White lilies are pretty and they represent purity. Of course, they also represent a secret, but I trust she knows you love her.”
A secret? Well some of those were about to be revealed, so it seemed perfect. “Okay, white lilies it is.”
“You said you are Italian. What is her heritage?”
He looked at her blankly for a moment. He had never asked Mr. Sinclair from where or when they came, but he remembered something Aldous had said. I had always hoped to meet someone who had been to my time, to my clan. “She’s Scottish.”
“Well, some thistle would be perfect. We will finish it off with orange blossoms. You must have those, of course.”
“What do they represent?”
She tsked. “Young people today know nothing. Orange blossoms are the symbol of eternal love, marriage and,” she wiggled her eyebrows, “fruitfulness.”
He laughed. “Yes, I must have some of those.”
Gabe purchased the flowers and practically ran home. He changed his clothes and then retrieved his grandmother’s ring from his sock drawer. With the ring in his pocket and the carefully wrapped bouquet in his arms, he took a cab to the Sinclairs’ posh SoHo address.
He gave his name to the security guard on duty at the building.
“Good afternoon, Dr. Soldani. Mr. Sinclair is expecting you. Go through to the private elevator and the security guard there will let the Sinclairs know you’re here.”
Aldous was waiting as Gabe got off the elevator.
“I see you took me seriously about the flowers. Well done. Thistle? That’s a nice touch. Do you have a ring?”
“Yes, sir. I had it before we talked.” He pulled the box from his pocket. “It was my grandmother’s.”
Aldous nodded approvingly. “There is nothing more valuable than love that’s passed down through generations. My daughter is in the library with her mother. Follow me.” Eventually, he stopped outside a room with double wooden doors. Aldous gave him a stern look. “You probably only have one chance at this. Don’t foul it up.”
“Yes, sir.”
Gabe followed him into the enormous room. Elizabeth and Jo Sinclair were sitting at a table. Elizabeth’s back was to the door. “Jo, my darling, someone is here to see our girl.”
Jo looked up. “Gabe, how lovely to see you.”
Elizabeth’s back went rigid, and she didn’t turn to look at him.
“Yes, it’s very nice to see you again, Mrs. Sinclair. How are you?”
“Very well, thank you. I trust you’ve been keeping well?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Well, I suspect you aren’t here to chat with me. Aldous, shall we give them privacy?”
“Yes, my love.”
Jo rose gracefully and left the room with her husband, closing the door behind them.
Elizabeth still hadn’t turned around, so Gabe crossed to her. “Do you mind if I sit?”
“No, that’s fine.” She didn’t make eye contact.
“I brought you these.” He handed her the bouquet.
She accepted the flowers from him, a slow smile spreading across her face. She traced the petals of one of the irises with a finger. “Faith and hope…they are so beautiful.”
“And the red roses represent love. That’s why I’m here, Elizabeth. I love you. I mean, the real you, the girl I’ve spent the last few weeks with. That’s why I became so upset. I knew it was you who I loved, and the idea of you going back, of losing you forever, nearly killed me.”
“No Gabe, it isn’t me. It can’t be me. You were intended for Elizabeth.”
“I don’t believe that. I think I was intended for you.”
“But that can’t happen. Elizabeth will be coming back.”
“For the next few minutes, let’s not think about Elizabeth.”
“Fine. But why are you so sure you love me and not her?”
“Because I’ve only experienced the feelings I have for you once before in my life.”
“With Elizabeth?”
“No. It was for a girl I met several years before I met Elizabeth. A girl I could not have. But for the first time since then, I feel the same profound love. There is a connection between us that I can’t explain, but you can’t deny it. I know you feel it.”
“Yes, I do. But if you felt this before, why did you let it go?”
“It wasn’t my choice. It was when I used the watch. I met a girl in the past who I adored. I had decided to give up everything I held dear to stay with her forever. She meant more to me than my family, my education, my very life.”
“But you didn’t stay?”
“I couldn’t. I was stabbed in the belly. I knew I was dying, so I said the return word. Leaving her was the hardest, most painful thing I have ever done, but I fear losing you will be even worse. More than I have ever wanted anything, I want you to stay and b
e my wife. If you don’t want to stay or you can’t stay, I will beg Gertrude to let me go back with you.”
She caressed his cheek. “Oh, Gabe, I love you too.” His heart leapt for a moment before she uttered the words he had most feared. “But there is someone in my own time who I think I was beginning to love. And Elizabeth…what she did was so wonderful. If she wants to return, I have to agree.”
“Tell me what it is Elizabeth has done.”
“According to Gertrude, a neighboring clan needed a skilled midwife. The laird’s wife had miscarried four babies and was pregnant again. Her husband hoped a different midwife might know what to do. My Aunt Dolina was the midwife they were seeking, but Laird Macrae had no intention of sending her. Figuring that no one could help, he intended to send me instead, but I was just an apprentice. He thought to gain MacKenzie as an ally simply by appearing to try to help.”
Gabe could barely believe what he was hearing.
“I would not have agreed to that deception and, according to Gertrude, I would have been whipped and ultimately died from my injuries. Perhaps because of the accident, the soul exchange happened earlier than it should have. Elizabeth went back when she lost consciousness and arrived before I ever had the chance to refuse my laird’s command.”
“And she wouldn’t refuse because she has more skills even than your aunt.”
“That’s what Gertrude said. So you see, she helped the poor woman and saved my life. I can’t refuse to let her return.”
“My darling girl, I have a story to tell you that I think you will find very interesting.”
“About your experience with the pocket watch?”
He smiled confidently. “Yes. And when I’m done, I think you’ll agree we belong together. It happened a little over eleven years ago…”
Chapter 25
Delaware, Route 13, Northbound
11:30pm Monday, December 19, 1994
Gabe was finally on his way home for Christmas. He had finished with classes the previous week, but had stayed over the weekend to get a few more shifts at work. People tended to be a little more generous with tips around the holidays, and he needed every cent he could earn. His car was packed before he started his shift, and he left as soon as the restaurant closed. The old Ford Escort he drove didn’t have a CD player, but he’d driven the route enough in the last two and a half years to know where the good radio stations were along the way. With that knowledge and a large to-go cup of coffee, he was armed for the three-hour drive to his family’s home in New Jersey.
Route 13 was fairly deserted this late on a Tuesday night. He hadn’t been on the road long when he saw a car pulled over on the shoulder. An elderly woman stood beside a very old sedan and waved to him. This was a rural stretch of road with little late-night traffic and no services within walking distance. It could be ages before someone else helped her. He slowed down and pulled off the road behind her.
He got out, but left the engine running and the lights on. Zipping his jacket, he walked to her. “Is everything okay? Do you need help?”
“Oh, thank ye for stopping, lad. Aye, I do need help. I have a puncture.” She had some sort of accent—maybe English, but he wasn’t sure.
“A puncture?” He looked at the car and saw the problem. “Oh, a flat tire.”
“Aye, a very flat tire.”
“I can change it for you. Is your spare in the trunk?”
“I suppose it is. Let’s look, shall we?” She opened the trunk and stepped aside. “Ah, there it is. Thank ye so very much. I don’t know what I’d have done if ye hadn’t stopped.”
“It’s no problem at all.” He removed the jack and put it together.
“What’s yer name, lad?”
“Gabriel Soldani, but you can call me Gabe.”
“Lovely to meet ye, Gabe. My name’s Gertrude.”
Gabe lifted the spare out of the trunk, but as soon as the light from his headlights hit it, he knew they had a problem. “Uh, Gertrude, how old is this tire?”
“It came with the car.”
“And how old’s the car?”
“I don’t pay much attention to those things, but it’s got to be twenty years old, maybe more. Why?”
“The spare doesn’t have enough air in it, and I think it’s dry-rotted.”
“Oh dear.”
“It’s usually a good idea to have the spare checked every time you have it serviced.”
“Serviced?”
“Yeah. You know, changing the oil, checking the fluids, rotating and balancing the tires.”
“Oh, those things. I’ve been meaning to have those things done. I guess I shall have to now,” she said cheerily.
“Yeah, that’s probably a good idea.” The car must be new to her. It wouldn’t still be on the road otherwise. “Listen, there’s no point in putting on a dry-rotted tire. How about I put everything back, you get your things, and lock the car. I’ll drive you to where you can get a tow truck. There’ll surely be something open in Dover.”
“That’s a fine idea, lad.”
By the time he’d put the tire and jack back and closed the trunk, she stood waiting with her handbag. He walked to the passenger side of his car and opened the door for her. As he walked around to the driver’s side, he remembered the urban legends of ax murderers disguised as little old ladies. He smiled to himself. He wasn’t sure of many things, but he was confident Gertrude was not an ax murderer.
“I certainly do appreciate this,” she said as he pulled into the road. “Several cars passed me and didn’t even slow down. You’d think I was an ax murderer or something.”
What the hell? God, please don’t let her be an ax murderer.
“So, Gabe, where are ye heading so late at night?”
“I’m on my way home from college for Christmas.”
“College, ye say. What college?”
“Salisbury University in Maryland.”
“And what are ye studying there?”
“I’m majoring in biology. I’m in my third year.”
“That’s fascinating. And what do biology majors do when they graduate?”
“I had planned to go to medical school.”
“Had planned?”
“I guess I still plan to. It’s just…well, I really like music. I play the guitar and piano, and I’ve fooled around a bit with a mandolin.”
“A mandolin? That’s not very common these days.”
“My family is Italian. There is an old one at the house that belonged to one of my grandfathers.”
“I see. So ye like music. Ye can still be a doctor and like music,” she teased.
“I suppose I can. But right after I went to college, some friends and I formed a band. We are getting really good, and sometimes we get paid gigs. They’re talking about going to California after we graduate and trying to, you know, break into the music industry. I think it would be great.”
“Ah, there’s a ‘but’ hovering at the end of that sentence.”
Gabe nodded. “But my family—my parents—won’t understand. My dad’s an electrician and my mom’s a housewife. Neither one of them went to college. They are set on me becoming a doctor.”
“You don’t want to be a doctor?”
“That’s just it, I do. But I want to be a musician, too. I’d like to just try it. I want to see what that kind of life would be like. If it didn’t work out, I could go to medical school then.”
“But yer parents won’t understand.”
“No. When I mentioned it at Thanksgiving, I thought my mother was going to have a heart attack. You would have thought I’d suggested dealing drugs or something.”
Gertrude chuckled. “Surely, it wasn’t that bad.”
“Oh, trust me, it was that bad. She was calling on every saint in the book. Dad’s reaction might have been worse.”
“What did yer dad do?”
“Nothing. He said nothing. He did nothing. He just looked so disappointed. It was terrible. So I assured them it
was just a crazy idea and that of course I intended to go to medical school.”
“Ah, that is quite a dilemma.”
“I just want to try it. I feel like I’ll always regret it if I don’t.”
“Hmm. What if I had a way that ye could try the musician’s life and it wouldn’t interfere with any of yer plans?”
“I’d say sign me up.”
“I’m serious, lad.”
“So am I. What do you have in mind?”
“I can give ye sixty days as a musician.”
“I don’t have sixty days. I don’t have to go back to school until February, but I’m supposed to take an MCAT prep course in January.”
“Ye needn’t worry about those things. I’ll explain, but ye must promise to set aside yer disbelief and listen to the whole story before ye say anything.”
“Okay, sure.” He wasn’t sure where this was going, but it was entertaining.
“I have the ability to let ye time travel.”
He cast a sideways glance at her. “Are you serious?”
“Remember, suspend disbelief and listen before ye comment.”
“Okay. Sorry.”
She opened her purse and pulled out what looked like a pocket watch on a chain. “This pocket watch is a conduit through time. It allows yer soul to trade places with someone else’s. Ye put it around yer neck or in yer pocket before ye go to sleep. When ye wake up, ye will be in someone else’s body in another time. Ye’ll have all of yer memories. Ye’ll be able to speak whatever language that person speaks—it will sound just like English to ye. A few other memories belonging to that person may leak through as well.”
Gabe could barely believe what he was hearing. The woman was nuts. She really believed what she was saying.
“Ye have sixty days.” She opened the watch. Glancing at it, he noticed it only had one hand that seemed to be stopped at twelve. “Each day that ye’re in the past, the hand will advance one second. Before ye go to sleep, ye must pick a word—one ye wouldn’t use accidentally—and ye tell the watch. It is yer return word. Anytime ye say it within those sixty days, ye’ll be brought back to yer own body immediately. Ye don’t even need to have the watch on ye.”
“But I don’t have sixty days.” Gabe, why are you engaging a crazy woman?
Once Found: The Pocket Watch Chronicles Page 22