Now and Forevermore Read online

~~~~~~0~~~~~~

  The Gloucester library contained a collection of books with leathered bindings in wooden bookcases. The red paneled walls and high ornate ceiling gave testament to Sedgwick’s desire for fine details, including the large framed paintings that hung along the walls. The soft light of the candelabra illuminated the surroundings, and a quick glance revealed a variety of historical books on the inlaid table.

  Malcolm’s primary interest lay in the treasure trove of books. He loved to read and he indulged himself as often as the time would spare. His studies of the past greatly influenced his present life and made him, in his view, a better gentleman than his peers. Politics did not concern him not did royalty and the questionable treatment they dispensed to others. He preferred to treat others with respect and dignity. And despite the title and the fortune to go with it, he never used it for dishonest gain and treated all in an impartial manner. Because of his gentlemanlike behavior, he was beloved by all of his staff.

  He examined the collection of written material, and noted The Waverly novels written by Sir Walter Scott, which remained a favorite of his. The writings contained the sort of fair-minded writing that appealed to his nature and Ivanhoe, just published the year before, engrossed his attention. But, he would save it to read at a later date.

  A volume hidden beneath the others with a silver lock in the shape of a heart stood out, and he picked it up with curiosity. With frayed edges the engraved title read: Time Travel – Tales of the heart. What in the king’s name did that mean? The lock could not be opened, but the design intrigued him. It seemed to be a heart within a heart and a red stone like a flame in the center. When he heard the sound of his name in a whisper, he spun around and peered into the darkened corners of the room. The candelabra shone brightly but the light did not illuminate every corner. The book slipped from his hands, and fell to the floor. His brow furrowed into a frown and he called out “Is someone in here? Show yourself at once.”

  “Yes my Lord?”

  A household maid emerged from the shadows near the main door. Strange that he hadn’t seen her before. Fine lines marred her face, and her bent figure gave testament to her years. Malcolm chastened himself for his sense of unease, and retrieved the book upon the floor. He sensed the old woman’s eyes upon him, and he turned to her with an inquiring gaze. Her eyes reminded him of the green hills of the moor, and her face reflected ancient wisdom.

  In truth, she seemed to be a part of the library, but the bright layered skirt hung in a most disreputable manner over bare feet, as though someone had taken a sharp object and sliced the edges. The dark top resembled a gentleman’s vest over a white ruffled shirt, tied with lightweight twine and a circular earring hung from one ear. The entire arrangement would send him to bedlam if he had to look at it each day. Malcolm grunted. Sedgwick must be a horrible taskmaster to allow his servants to wear rags for clothing.

  “Do you need anything? I can help you to get what you search for.”

  Malcolm stiffened at the woman’s words. Her inappropriate question and informal manner would incur in a lashing if she didn’t take care. His words clipped their response “You should retire to your master and serve his guests immediately. Go now before I give word of your behavior.”

  Her feet made no sound as she moved closer, and Malcolm shrank back in surprise. Her eyes shone like the light of the moon and prompted him to ask in curiosity “Who are you?”

  With a flinch at the words that crossed his lips, he muttered “Forgive me. I do not understand what has come over me this night. I do not feel quite like myself.”

  She nodded as though she understood his dilemma. “I know what’s wrong with you, and I have decided that you are worthy of my gift.”

  “Your gift?” Malcolm’s brows drew together in puzzlement “What gift would that be?”

  When a smile blossomed upon her face, he grew impatient and demanded “Come now. Do not jest with me.”

  She ambled over to the wall and motioned he should follow. With a slight rustle she pulled one of the books, and he smiled as the wall slithered across to reveal a hidden passageway. Now the strange situation became clear. Sedgwick had devised of a new way to entertain his guests, and perhaps it would be interesting to see how far the amusement would go. With careful strides he entered the passageway behind the old woman, his nostrils assailed by the smell of dampness that imbued the air. The chill permeated his clothing, and even the walls were frigid to the touch.

  A quick search of the surroundings revealed nothing but four walls, and a mirror covered in slight layer of dust at the far end of the room. Malcolm turned away in disappointment, frustrated when his search proved fruitless. Another one of Sedgwick’s tricks indeed. When he prepared to reenter the library, the woman spoke again behind him “If you would but look, you will find what you are searching for.”

  He was tired of the game and an angry tone filled his voice “What am I searching for? Who are you old woman? I thought this was Sedgwick’s doing, but perhaps it is not so. Speak up. I will tolerate no more of this nonsense.”

  Even in the shadows he could see the beauty of her smile, and it seemed as though her years melted away to reveal a maiden in its place. He watched her point towards the mirror “I will leave you now kind sir, but I beg you just look at yourself for but a moment and all will be well.”

  With that she departed and left him alone in the shadows. Malcolm shook himself and wondered if he had fallen asleep at the ball, as the events of the evening seemed more like a dream than anything else. When the voice of the night called to him again, he groaned in distress. No. Leave me be.

  The result of the maidens cry pummeled his senses, and he felt short of air as sweat peppered his brow. Aware that the edges of his vision decreased in dramatic fashion, he struggled to turn away but his feet remained rooted to the floor. His fear of the unknown returned full force and he pleaded with the voice to desist. “Stop woman. Stop calling to me. I cannot bear your torment. Cease. I command you.”

  The cry changed from insistent to gentle and Malcolm gritted his teeth. It seemed the female called to him with tenderness and a soft prod he could not ignore. Giving himself over to the cry, he allowed it to lead him towards the mirror. The surface reflected his appearance but for a moment, and it changed to a glow like the first light of dawn. The tender light grew bright and increased, until it seemed to pulse and envelop the entire room.

  Malcolm’s breath caught as he stared at the object. No mirror he had ever seen could do what this one did. The glow dissolved upon the surface and turned into the clear waters of a lake, as waves rippled across in a gentle display. Unable to stop his movements, he placed his hands on the glass and it shimmered under his touch. Helpless under the pull of whatever had him in its grip, he ignored the erratic breathing of his heart and the fact that dark spots lingered before his eyes. The voice continued to call from beyond and he allowed it to wash over him. His fingers moved upon the surface and penetrated the shimmering glass, pulling him in further and further. His thoughts faded as he fell into nothingness.

  Chapter 3

  1987

  Summer rubbed her eyes and left the edges red rimmed, but she couldn’t believe what she saw on the floor at her feet. A man, a stranger as far as she could tell, had collapsed on the wooden planks in the library. When his legs folded under him, the boards creaked in protest, but now they fell silent just like the body on it. The man did not move and she conjured up horrified scenarios of his death. Her imagination grew in leaps and bounds until it included handcuffs and bars with rough looking tattooed men. By the time she got around to possible death row for murder, she scared herself into a panic haze and made a dash for the door.

  In her haste she stumbled and fell, watching helplessly as the small metal key slid across the room, and vanished under the front desk. With a muffled cry she raced over to the wooden structure, and dug under the smooth edges. Her search revealed fluffs of dust bunnies, broken pencils and wooden splinters wh
ich pierced her skin, but no telltale glint of a key. Blast it. Where did it go?

  The inert body lay only a short distance away, but she continued to dig around with feverish intent. A groan brought her search to a grinding halt, and she bit the edge of her lip. It’s only your imagination. Keep your head together and find the key. She had to get out of there. No one would believe that some man just appeared out of nowhere. If she had just stayed home, none of this would have happened. But she couldn’t stop the reading itch and when she got it, she had to act. So she sneaked away to the library whenever she got a chance. Thankfully, Mr. Neely considered her a special customer and gave her a spare key to use whenever she wanted.

  The Tinker Box became her escape and oasis in the desert. It had eight sides like an octagon with a high pointed roof painted in forest green. Square windows made of pinewood opened to the island air and sparse furnishings dotted the interior. A large table was in the corner with two mahogany chairs, and there were six low-lying shelves in the center lined with books, and some were stacked on the walls. Despite its unusual design, Mr. Neely called it eclectic and Summer agreed with him.

  When she arrived that morning, it took about an hour to review the books on the north shelf which included the latest releases, and then she inspected the new addition to the library. A large, antique, oval mirror stood on curved legs, its outermost rim adorned with silver roses on delicate stems. The object covered the back door and reflected an antique air that Summer found fueled her imaginative skills. Distracted from the books, she indulged in a daydream haze. Like a princess in a fairytale, she twirled around and imagined her long lost love waited for her on the other side. Giving free vent to her desires, she cried out for a prince to sweep her into his arms, or a fearless pirate to sail away on endless seas.

  The daydream continued until a man fell out of the mirror and into her arms. The unexpected deadweight crushed her strength, so she let him drop to the hard wooden floor. In hindsight, she could have let him down a bit gentler, but she freaked to high noon and couldn’t help herself. And now she was on the floor just like her uninvited guest, in search of a lost key.

  Her father would send her to the grave, if he managed to tear himself away from the booze bottle. But her aunt might send her to the bone yard first. No one was as mean as dear old Aunt Vivian. Wait a minute… Back up, back up girl. What is wrong with you? It is impossible for a man to fall out of the mirror. Men did not fall out of mirrors. Nothing fell out of mirrors.

  Another groan echoed within the confines of the small space, and Summer sucked in a deep breath. She couldn’t help but feel a great deal of curiosity, and it got the best of her. With her body partly covered by the table she darted a quick glance around the edge. Other furtive glances revealed the figure turned, and one arm shielded his eyes from the sunlight, which filtered in through the windows. He might wake up. Then what? Find the key.

  When another search proved fruitless, she ground her teeth in frustration. Ok fine. The key would not cooperate, but the window might work. Her slim body should fit between the grooves or something like that. The thought had no sooner formed in her mind when a prickled sensation stung the base of her neck. She did not want to look but an invisible string pulled her head downward, and her gray eyes collided with the gaze of a handsome stranger.

  ~~~~~~0~~~~~~

  What manner of trickery had overtaken him, Malcolm wondered through a haze. His vision blended blurry images and dark edges mottled with intense discomfort. Flexing his shoulders in a gentle roll produced an ache that stretched from his neck to his knees, and he winced. If he didn’t know better, he would swear he had been placed over the rack and stretched from limb to limb. That old woman in the library. She played false and led me astray. With a muttered oath he took stock of his surroundings. Was he still in the passageway? He couldn’t make out the details of the area as his body clamored for rest, but he fought the need to obey its command. Weak as a newborn babe his vision revealed a shadow of a form nearby. With a painful swallow he pleaded for assistance “Can you help me? I seem to lack my usual strength, which is not customary for someone such as I.”

  The shadow did not respond, but it didn’t move away. Malcolm struggled to rise but his weak limbs would not support his body, and the position reflected dishonor to his name and rank. “Is someone there? Can you assist me? I cannot rise.”

  A hysterical laugh echoed around him, and he frowned. He failed to understand why someone would be cruel enough to laugh at him in such a manner.

  ~~~~~~0~~~~~~

  Summer couldn’t stop the hysterical sound that left her lips. To laugh at someone’s expense could be called cruel, but the situation wandered into uncharted territory for her. How did you act when you didn’t know what would happen next? Hysterical, that’s how. The man had nice blue eyes, but she didn’t think he could really see her. He squinted against the light and appeared focused somewhere over her head. Perhaps she could still get away, and the window hovered temptingly above. As though he sensed her innermost thoughts, the man spoke again. This time his voice washed over her like warm honey tinged with a hint of desperation.

  “Lady, I do not know why you would laugh in such a way, but I mean you no harm. And I do not mean to impose, but I am too weak to move. Can you help me?”

  His voice could coax a rooster to give him eggs, but she did not trust him. She had no idea where he came from and no idea where he lived. As an island girl, she knew most of the neighborhood and even strangers who arrived, but she had never seen him before. That’s because he fell out of a mirror. Rejecting the preposterous idea eating away at her subconscious, she focused on his eyes. When his look got more intense, she realized his vision must have cleared up. His next question confirmed her fears.

  “Why do you look at me in such a fashion?”

  Her body drowned in the heat of shame, and her reply spilled out in nervous chatter “Sorry, I’m a little distracted by your eyes and frankly scared spit less by your appearance. Can you explain the mirror trick to me? I’ve never seen something like that before, although a circus did pass by some months ago with a really crazy trunk trick. You know the one where they jabbed the swords into the side and you think the girl is dying in there? And then you cover your eyes, because even though you know it’s a trick, you’re still worried that one day it might not work and then —”

  Her words broke off at the stunned look on his face. With an apologetic grin she tried to explain “Sorry, I get talkative when I’m nervous.”

  He shook his head as though trying to dispel cobwebs in his mind, and she watched his mouth form the words as though he feared to speak them “Please, tell me, what are these things that you speak of and how can you say such words?”

  Maybe he bumped his head harder than she thought. His accent was decidedly English, but she couldn’t quite place it “What words? You mean the trunk trick? Oh well it just means that—

  “Stop.” His command froze her in place and she scurried further behind the desk. Mr. Neely where are you? There’s a crazy man here from Timbuktu.”

  “Forgive me, I did not mean to startle you. I apologize but I cannot understand your words. Please go at a steady pace, and explain what you wish to say.”

  Summer sighed with relief. Well at least he didn’t try to come at her with a meat cleaver or something. Then again they were both still on the floor. Crazy way to carry on a conversation when you first meet someone. With a quick glance she pointed to the door “Um, I have to go now, but maybe I will see you some other time. It was uh, nice to meet you, I guess.”

  Her words of farewell stimulated him to action. He struggled to get to his feet, but the rigid limbs held him back. His pained expression caused sympathy to well up in the region of her heart, and she felt his despair. She pushed the sensation as far as away as she could, until he fell back down. Then she couldn’t help herself. With a leap she ran over and looked at him with troubled eyes “Are you Ok? You don’t seem so hot.”r />
  “On the contrary Madam, I am very hot. I feel as though I am on fire and I cannot understand why.”

  Summer gawked when she realized what the problem was. What in the world did he have on? No wonder he had a fever. “It’s your clothes. This room does not have AC, the windows are partly closed and that suit is much too tight and that…is that a necktie? I’ve never seen one like that before. No wonder you’re burning up. What exactly do you have on?”

  He seemed offended as he struggled to reply “It…, it is the…, it has always…it is the perfect….forgive me…what I should say…is…it is the perfect attire for a ball.”

  A ball? She knew he bumped that head on the way down. “Oh a ball hmmm? Well I don’t know, but it seems to me that that this tuxedo, slash, high fashion style, slash, something look, is not perfect. I think you need different clothing. By the way, I still want to know where you came from. I know most people on the island and I haven’t seen you before. Did you just arrive?”

  Summer watched a gamut of questions run across his face, but she couldn’t answer them. When she saw his glance go over her slim form in a black jeans and a yellow t-shirt, his eyes rolled back into his head. A crisis of some sort was imminent, and her fears were confirmed when he put his hand to his forehead and toppled over in a dead faint. Great! Just great. Now what?