Timeless (3 page)

I knew him, I thought, frustrated that I
couldn’t place him. Surely I’d met him before? Or was he some
celebrity I’d just re-imagined? He certainly had the looks, but I
couldn’t think of any Hollywood star he resembled. He looked like
no one else I knew and yet his face seemed so familiar to me, as
though I had known him my entire life. As I contemplated him, my
heart melted in a way it never had before, a feeling immediately
replaced with overwhelming guilt that I was somehow betraying
Ben.

I turned my thoughts instead to the others
pursuing us in my dream. Who were they, and why did they come for
me? And why was I so terrified of water that I couldn’t even take a
shower? Though I’d long feared drowning, water hadn’t figured into
my dream.

I finally steeled my nerves and turned on the
sink faucet, letting the hot steam clear my head, but I still
didn’t touch the water.

I hadn’t let myself contemplate the dangerous
woman in my dream. She too seemed familiar somehow. Her face glowed
with an unholy, iridescent light, her hair spread out in a vivid
array of sparkling golden hues. I could see her clearly, almost as
though she appeared before me. I realized suddenly that I was not
imagining it. She stared at me in the mirror, her mouth a bloody
shade of red. Her black eyes bored into mine, forcing me to look at
her. I tried to break the intensity of her stare, but she would not
let me. I felt the scream erupting but could make no sound emerge.
She controlled me entirely, as though she had taken over my
body.

The light emitted from the mirror blazed out,
hurting my eyes. It seemed to glow almost towards me, as though she
were reaching out to pull me to her. I felt an intense heat burning
my face, now inflamed almost from within. The mirror fogged, and
the figure disappeared from view. I realized the burning came from
the steam rising from the hot faucet water. I quickly shut it off
and mentally shook my head. My imagination must run in overdrive, I
thought, wiping away the moisture on the mirror to reveal my own
face—no threat there. And yet, the small tap shouldn’t have
produced that much steam, not enough to burn me. My cheeks still
stung.

What was wrong with me? My hands had started
to shake, and my footing was a little unsure, as though I’d had a
few too many drinks—not that I’d had much experience with alcohol.
Aunt Jo kept an unopened bottle of wine tucked away for special
occasions that never came, and she’d once let me taste champagne at
a wedding we attended at the end of last summer.

I finally summoned enough courage to get into
the tub, but I had to practice breathing deeply to make it through
even a quick shower. It was the shortest one I’d ever taken.

I turned the water off, grateful to be done,
and realized that I’d lingered too long getting ready. Time had run
out, and I could hear Ben laughing with Aunt Jo in the kitchen. I
must have missed the doorbell because I could hear him at the
bottom of the stairs.

“I better see what’s keeping her,” I heard
him say as he climbed the steps.

I rushed to my room, wrapped only in a towel,
and quickly put on underwear and clothes, towel-drying my hair and
fastening my sandals as I hopped on one foot.

Ben stood at the door, amused.

“Don’t hurry on my account,” he said, looking
stunning as ever as he leaned against the doorframe.

I looked down at my wrinkled blue t-shirt and
faded jeans. I wished I’d set an alarm for more reasons than
one.

As if to answer my thoughts, Ben told me I
looked great. He stepped into the room and took the comb out of my
hand.

“Let me,” he said, smoothing down the curls
with one hand while he worked the comb with the other.

Ben loved my hair, which I’d let grow to my
waist mainly out of laziness. No hairdresser had been able to tame
it yet.

He carefully unknotted the tangles and
brushed them aside, nuzzling my neck as he went along and finally
abandoning my hair altogether.

“You know, we’ll never be on time if you keep
up with this,” I told him. But I wasn’t really annoyed. Ben’s hands
on my hair had a calming effect that was just what I needed, though
his next question brought me back to reality.

“What’s up?” he asked, sensing my
tension.

I never could hide anything from anyone very
well, especially Ben. My face usually gave me away, as I blushed
constantly, but I knew I also still shook slightly from the
dream.

“Nothing really,” I said, unwilling to
confess how affected I was by what I’d seen and felt in my
nightmare. It felt so real, as though it had really happened to
me.

He raised an eyebrow.

“I had a bad dream, that’s all,” I continued,
trying to sound casual.

“Wanna talk about it?” he asked, turning to
face me on the bed.

Curiously, I didn’t. I shared everything with
Ben, but this was too horrifying and somehow too personal even for
him. It was the most frightening dream I’d ever had, waking or
sleeping, and I couldn’t discuss it with him. Understandably, he’d
be upset that I’d dreamed about another guy, even if it was a
knight from long ago.

For the second time that day, I felt
overwhelming guilt. Ben and I had no secrets.

I tried laughing it off to ease the
tension.

“I’ve just been watching too many horror
flicks,” I said, forcing a note of lightness in my voice.

Ben looked at me strangely. He knew I hated
horror movies.

“Okay…Are you ready?” he asked, sensing my
unwillingness to say more and not wanting to push me.

I was grateful he’d let it go.

We met Zack and Annie a short time later at
the movie theater near the mall. Three movies were playing, and two
of them were horror films.

“It looks like it will have to be Bride’s
Night Out,” Ben said, a teasing tone in his voice.

“Why’s that?” Zack asked, disappointed.

“Emily can’t watch anything scary—she’s begun
having dreams of zombies and werewolves,” he said, trying out his
best vampire impression by going for my neck.

“Cut it out, Ben,” I said, pushing him away.
I didn’t want to be reminded of the dream I’d had this afternoon,
and I couldn’t even joke about it.

“But that’s a chick flick,” Zack complained,
“and besides, I wanted to see The Undead Night, Part Three. In the
first two movies…” Zack began.

Annie interrupted, rolling her eyes.

“Save it, Zack,” she said, “Nobody wants to
hear about the sequel to Night of the Whatever.”

I shot her a grateful look. I knew she wanted
to see the movie about weddings anyway. Ben didn’t care either way.
Lately, he liked for us to sit in the back and make out. Tonight,
though, it felt wrong somehow, and when he tried kissing me five
minutes into the first preview, I shook my head, nodding in the
direction of Zack and Annie.

Ben looked strangely at me, as if to ask what
was wrong. But I avoided his gaze.

I couldn’t pay all that much attention to the
rest of the movie, the dream still uppermost in my mind.

Afterwards, we decided to get some ice-cream
and ordered a large banana split with four spoons. But I was still
distracted, picking apart the napkin in my lap.

“Hell-o,” Annie said, waving her hands in
front of me.

“Don’t mind her, Annie,” Ben answered. “She’s
been out of it since I picked her up.”

Ben shook his head in mock reproof but
squeezed my leg nonetheless.

“Sorry,” I mumbled, still staring at my lap.
I tried to focus on the conversation…something about Will Adams
getting caught cheating in history class. But I couldn’t
concentrate. I was too absorbed in another world, another time.

“What do you think, Em?” Annie asked.

“What?” I said, startled. I realized I needed
to pay more attention to the conversation, but I couldn’t seem to
focus.

I tried to listen without really knowing what
we were talking about anymore.

Someone was asking me a question again.

“Nope, sorry, didn’t hear that one,” I
answered lamely.

Zack and Annie looked from me to Ben.

“Aren’t you going to eat any of this?” Zack
asked me through a mouthful of bananas.

“No, I’m not really hungry,” I replied,
finally putting down my spoon.

“Okay, what’s going on?” Annie asked,
breaking through my malaise.

I knew I’d have to tell them something. But
what?

I paused for a moment before answering. They
were my friends, right? They’d understand, wouldn’t they? Maybe we
could all laugh about it.

“I had this dream…” I began, staring at the
ruined bits of napkin in my lap.

“Yeah, what about?” Zack asked, attacking the
ice cream with a vengeance.

I looked at Ben and then looked down
again.

“Nothing, really,” I said, not wanting to
continue. It was just a stupid dream, right?

I needed to change the subject.

“Who’s going on the spring break trip?” I
asked suddenly.

“The one Mr. Dean is planning to Europe?”
Annie replied, easily distracted.

“Yeah, I think I’m going to go,” I said,
realizing it myself for the first time.

Ben looked at me in surprise.

“Really?” he asked. “You didn’t tell me,” he
said, sounding a little hurt. We planned everything together, so I
knew that it came as a shock for him that I wouldn’t involve him in
a major decision like this.

“I only just decided,” I said, glad I could
be truthful with him for the first time that evening.

I really couldn’t explain it. I suddenly had
the overwhelming urge to go overseas, to see England…to find the
place in my dream, terrifying as it was. I knew somehow that my
dream had taken place long ago, and the pull felt very strong to
discover everything I could about it.

“Well, I guess that means I’m in too,” he
said, always cheerful and eager to do whatever I wanted. He smiled
at me, and I felt an immediate, inexplicable rush of shame mixed
with the now familiar guilt.

“No!” I said, a little too loudly, then
hastily added, “I mean, you don’t have to go if you don’t want
to.”

Ben put down his spoon and sat back, the
smile gone from his face. An awkward moment passed, and I knew my
face had turned crimson.

I stood up then and picked up the ticket.

“This one’s on me,” I offered. It was the
least I could do.

Annie’s eyes followed me, and the worried
look on her face had returned. She and Zack stood up to leave
too.

“I’ll call you tomorrow,” she said, twirling
her hair as she always did when she was a little nervous. I could
tell that they thought Ben and I had had a fight beforehand. They
couldn’t leave quickly enough.

I finished paying and returned to the
table.

“Are you feeling okay?” Ben asked.

“Yeah,” I said, not sure that I actually
was.

We left shortly after Zack and Annie, but
when Ben opened the door to his pick-up, I shook my head no.

“I can walk,” I said, not meeting his
eyes.

I knew it wasn’t fair, but I just needed to
be alone for awhile to clear my head. Though it was late, it wasn’t
far to walk.

“What’s with you tonight?” he asked, starting
to get more than a little irritated with me.

For the second time, I mumbled an
apology.

“I just need to get some air,” I
answered.

“Okay. Fine,” he said, now thoroughly angry
with me. It usually took a lot for Ben to lose his temper, so I
knew I must have pushed him too far and probably really hurt his
feelings. But it hadn’t been my intention. I honestly couldn’t
understand the way I felt.

He got into the driver’s side, slammed the
door, and drove off. He had a right to be upset. I’d been distant
ever since I’d had the dream that afternoon, and it wasn’t fair to
him. He had a swim meet tomorrow, and it was the regional
semi-finals. He likely wouldn’t sleep well tonight, and I felt bad
for the way I’d treated him. I just wasn’t myself.

I sighed, knowing I should have called to him
before he got into his truck and drove off. But I just stared at
the dust cloud he left behind, slightly shaken. Eventually, I
started walking home, not entirely sure myself why I was so
disturbed by the dream I’d had or how it could have affected me so
much.

Aunt Jo had left the outside light on but had
long gone to bed. Most of the school would have loved to have the
lax supervision I enjoyed. But Aunt Jo trusted me. She knew I
wouldn’t sneak around or do anything really bad.

I quietly let myself into the house and saw
the Duchess sitting on the bottom staircase, waiting on me with a
curious look of sympathy in her eyes, which seemed to glow in the
dark. Given that she normally treated me as a servant at best or a
pesky human at worst, I was curious to know why she paid me so much
attention now.

“Do you know what my dream means?” I asked
her, only half in jest as I rubbed her head.

She purred loudly and followed me up the
stairs, staying close to my legs as if to guard me, I thought.

It was a night for strange happenings.

Chapter Two

"Plunging In"

Between melting and freezing

The soul's sap quivers.

T. S. Eliot, “Little Gidding”

Sleep eluded me, so I picked up the sampler
I’d begun a week ago. Sewing calmed me, and for some inexplicable
reason, anything related to sewing had always fascinated me.
Neither Mom nor Aunt Jo had understood it when I’d announced my new
passion at age ten. “In this age of feminism,” Mom had once begun,
shaking her head, “why would you want to go back to the dark ages?”
But she had laughed, glad I’d found a hobby that could make me
happy.

I couldn’t explain my desire to sew or the
calming feeling that came over me when I threaded a needle. It was
as much a part of me as my innate fear of drowning. When I’d
learned some basic skills at camp one summer, I knew that it felt
more natural to have a needle in my hand than a pencil. Mom, who
couldn’t sew a button on a shirt, had nevertheless paid for lessons
for me, and once I discovered needlework, I never looked back.