Chapter Two

She spent her Saturday morning sitting around in her pajamas. Her hair was tied up in a knot on her head. She knew she would need to get dressed but was enjoying her English roast tea. She was watching a rerun of everybody loves Raymond when she heard a knock. “Pizza!” they called. She jumped up, starving for her pepperoni goodness. She grabbed her wallet and opened the door. Then she wished she would have used the peephole. “Surprise!” said a strong British accent. She slammed the door, panicked.

“Go away!” she said, resting against the door, grabbing her phone, trying to think of who to call if a maniac stalker was outside your door.

“Please!” he said with a pleading voice. “I already paid for the pizza and if you don’t let me in I’ll have to eat it all for myself,” he sounded like he would hate to eat the pizza.

“Why won’t you just leave me alone?” she asked, banging her head against the door.

“Well, the thing is, I think you’re pretty. And you don’t have any friends. And a pretty girl shouldn’t be alone on a perfectly good Saturday afternoon. And I saw the pizza guy and thought I’d pay. Then he gave me the pizza and here I am,” she could hear him smiling.

“I have friends!”

“No you don’t.”

“Yes huh, and besides, how did you find me?” she asked, narrowing her eyes at the most obvious question she should have asked earlier.

She heard him sigh, as if he were shaking his head. “You’re not so bright for a psychologist.”

“I’d like to see you try to evaluate when you have a homicidal manic at your door!” she yelled.

“I work for the CIA sweetheart,” he whispered, “I know everything.”

“Will you stop calling me that?” she growled.

“Will you open the door and stop being weird? I bought you pizza! The least you could do is give me a tip,” he said, and then added, “Or a kiss would work too.”

“How are you so full of yourself?” she asked under her breath. “If I open the door do you promise not to kill me or anything?”

“Scouts honor.”

She opened the door a peek, and glared out at him. She pulled it open the rest of the way when he held the pizza out to her. Then he tucked the pizza in and walked past her, into the apartment. She slammed the door and saw he was laying on the couch flipping through channels on the TV. He pulled out a slice of pizza after he found some cooking show. She watched him eat it while his feet were propped up on the arm of her couch. She walked past and whispered, “I hope you choke,” as she walked into the kitchen. She poured herself some more hot tea.

“Hey do you have anything to drink?” he shouted from the living room. She rolled her eyes and didn’t answer while she drank her tea. Eventually he walked into the kitchen during a break on the TV. She glared at him. “Oh! Tea!” he said, his face brightening. He smiled at her despite how she was looking at him. He grabbed a mug and poured some. This time he sat across from her at the little table, sipping his tea. “What’s your favorite color?” he asked, looking at her thoughtfully. She sighed, blowing on her tea. “Come on! I just want to get to know you!” he begged.

“Blue,” she said before taking a sip of her tea.

“What’s your favorite food?” he asked.

“Italian.”

“What about animal?”

“Dolphins,” she said, sipping her tea again. He just sat there smiling, making her more upset. “Listen, what do you want?”

He looked offended, “I want to be your friend!”

“Why?”

“Because!” he said, sighing, “Ever since I first saw you I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

“You met me yesterday,” she narrowed her eyes.

“I know!” he said, as if he were desperate. “But I feel like I’ve known you longer. I know it sounds cheesy but its how I feel.”

“Well I feel like I don’t know who you are or what to think of you,” she picked up her tea and sipped some more.

“Well my favorite color is green and I love Mexican food and penguins,” he said, ginning again. This time she couldn’t help but laugh.

“Penguins?” she snorted. He was laughing with her and shaking his head.

“What?” he tried to look serious, “What’s wrong with penguins?”

She tried to look serious too, “Nothing is wrong with them,” she stifled a giggle, “You just don’t seem like a cute and cuddly type of guy.”

He looked offended, “I can be cute and cuddly!” he protested. They were both laughing again.

Emily held her stomach as her giggles stopped. She looked at Jack, wondering how she had just let a stranger into her apartment to eat her pizza and make her laugh. Just then her stomach growled. “Just in time! Julia just came back on the telly,” He said, standing and walking back to the couch. Emily smiled and followed. She grabbed a piece of pizza as she sat down and they watched Julia Childs prepare an exotic entrée.

“Who chops like that anyway?” Jack asked, motioning towards the TV, where Julia was slicing mushrooms.

“Only the kind of people who have television shows I guess,” Emily said through a mouthful of pizza. Jack got upset when Julia started a fire in a skillet on purpose, shouting, “Who bloody does that?” He grabbed the remote and turned it to ‘football’, or as Emily called it, soccer. He was shouting at the screen when her phone rang. She looked at the screen and saw it was Glens Falls Nursing Home. She answered, “Hello?”

“Emily! This is Samantha at the nursing home. I’m so sorry but I think you need to come down here right away,” she looked at jack who was shouting at the TV. “Emily, are you there,” the old ladies voice was soft.

“Yes,” she said, “Yes I’m sorry I am on my way.”

She hung up and saw Jack staring at her now, he had muted the game. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

“My grandpa,” she stood up, looking around, it took her brain a moment to kick in again.
She ran to her room, getting dressed into a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. She ran back to the living room, grabbing her coat and shoes.

“What is it?” Jack asked, standing now. She didn’t hear him as she zipped up her snow boots.

“I’m sorry but you should go. Thanks for the pizza,” she said, grabbed her purse and walked out of the apartment. She ignored Jack’s ‘waits’ and pulled out her keys. She left the building and walked around to her car. She kicked it open and got in. She turned the key and it cranked over but wouldn’t start. After a minute it stopped turning over. Her door opened and Jack grabbed her arm. She didn’t protest as he led her to his car, which happened to be a black sports car. She sat in the black leather seat and he ran around the car. He got in and the car roared to life.

“Where are we going?” he asked, pulling out onto the street.

“The nursing home,” she said quietly. They rode in silence, her mind filled with uncertainty. Jack kept casting worried glances at her but didn’t bother her thoughts. By the time they arrived her brow had been furrowed with worry. She got out before he put it in park and he had to run to catch up. She typed in the pass code and ran down the familiar halls. She got to her grandfather’s room and the nurse left, giving her some privacy. She heard Jack slow down behind her, but he didn’t follow her in the room. She walked slowly to the pale body on the bed. She took his frail hand. “Hi gramps,” she whispered, tears threatening her vision. He looked at her, his almost colorless blue eyes sad.

“Hello Carrot,” he smiled. His voice was faint and she sat on the bed beside him. She stroked his hand, a tear falling on hers. “Don’t cry for me dear,” he said, smiling still. He patted her cheek, forcing her to look at him. He had mustered as much strength as he could. “I’ve lived a long life. I have seen things you couldn’t imagine. And I have lived longer than I should have,” he paused, coughing. He put a hand to his chest and looked at her seriously. “I know you think I’m crazy. You think my mind is slipping. But I know that eventually you will get to see some of the things I’ve told you about.” She started crying freely then. “Shhhh… you will be fine. You think you’re alone but Jackson will help you discover your gifts.” She looked up to see her grandfather nod at Jack. She looked at him as he nodded to her grandfather as if they were old friends, and he looked sad. “I love you Emily,” she heard her grandfather whisper. She looked at him. He was looking at the ceiling and his hand stopped holding hers.

“I love you too, grandpa,” she whispered, tears falling down her cheeks. She heard Jack leave for a moment, and then return with the nurse. The old woman hugged Emily. “Thank you Sam,” she said to the nurse as she left her grandfather’s room. She walked down the halls, conscious of the footsteps behind her. She grew angrier as she pushed open the double door, stepping into the cold. She put her hands on her hips, pacing. She heard the doors open and she turned to see Jack with his hands in pockets, as if he were guilty. “Explain,” was all she said, but he flinched at the anger that had been behind them. When he didn’t say anything she laughed, tossing her head back. “Oh now you want to be quiet?” she got louder as she finished her question.

“Emily,” jack put his hands out, trying to calm her. She stepped back and glared at him.

“For ten years I listened to my grandfather tell his stories. He would tell me of Christmas in the nineteenth century, of meeting my grandmother in London, again, nineteenth century. I thought perhaps he just got one number wrong and meant the nineteen hundreds, but then he started talking about older dates, and people who have been dead for a thousand years that he dined with. I finally thought I understood why my mother left. Why my aunt bailed on me as soon as I could sign papers making me his guardian. He’s the reason I went into psychology. I thought I could understand what was wrong with him. Why his brain played so many tricks. Then one day,” she said, growing quiet again, “I show up to work, only to be handed a file, stating there was someone else who claimed to be a time traveler. When he doesn’t deny it I get angry, because I want to believe my grandfather, I really do, but how can people travel through time? Why haven’t we been told sooner? Then I thought, perhaps you were making fun of me, that somehow you knew about him. You told me yourself you’re not a time traveler, and that makes me wonder, how did he know you?”

“Emily I tried to tell you, but you weren’t ready,” he said.

“So you were time travelers. You were born in the past and you were best friends, is that it?”

“Yes we are time travelers. He was my dad’s friend and we were close until his wife died. After that he came here, to escape I guess. I hadn’t seen him since I was a lad,” he said without a hint of sarcasm. She was speechless for a moment.

“If you’re a time traveler then show me your time machine,” she said the last two words like they tasted like cough syrup. Jack sighed, rubbing his neck.

“It’s not like that. Time travel is a gift that passes down through families, like blonde hair or big noses. If you have the gift all you have to do is think of a time and place and you go there if you want to.”

“Wow, did you just make that up? Or are you just really that crazy?” she asked, shaking her head.

“Emily! Please, you have to believe me,” he sounded desperate.

She closed her eyes. “If you don’t want to tell me the truth, fine. Thanks for the lift, but I think I’ll walk,” she said as she turned and walked away. She was thankful she didn’t hear footsteps following her.
Emily unlocked her door, kicking off her black heels. The funeral had been small and short. Besides her a few nurses had come and she could see Jack standing at a distance. After the casket was lowered she tossed her red rose onto it and a handful of dirt. She hugged the nurses, most likely the last time she would see them. She stood by the grave as Jack walked over. She didn’t look at him.

“Emily, I know you’re angry with me, and this isn’t the time or place. So I just want to say I’m sorry about your grandfather.” He sighed after she didn’t move and slipped a piece of paper into her coat pocket. He left her alone and she didn’t look up as his car roared by. She walked home.

She walked to the fridge and ignored the vase of roses that Jack had undoubtedly left after he had broken into her apartment. She opened the fridge and saw some food he must have bought. She didn’t care who it was from as she ate a small carton of lomein. After she had finished it she changed into her pajamas and sat on the couch, turning on the TV. She flipped through until she found animal planet and watched as little black and white birds waddled across the screen over a vast field of ice and snow. She jabbed the off button and sat in silence as she thought about Jack and what he had said. It was ridiculous. Time travel was impossible, especially without a time machine. She had watched plenty of shows where the characters are hurdled through time and space she knew it was make believe. It was a fantasy. She smacked the couch cushion and sat back, glaring at nothing unparticular. She had an idea then, that she could disprove this mess and then she would know once and for all Jack was just as crazy as he sounded.

She closed her eyes, imagining the first place in the past she thought of, and opened them when she felt a cold breeze. She looked around and saw she was outside, standing in a foot of snow looking at a street of old-fashioned buildings. She looked at the decorations in the storefront windows and realized it was Christmas. She was standing in London, Christmas morning, 1835, as children would be waking their parents and shouting with joy at their new toys. She jumped as a boy came running into the cold snow, still in his pajamas. He laughed with joy. When he saw her he smiled and waved, and she recognized his blue eyes. She couldn’t help but smile at the child form of her grandfather. She heard a shout behind her and the boys face grew scared. She looked behind her to see a horse drawn carriage feet away. She flinched and shut her eyes, waiting for impact. After a few seconds she opened her eyes, and she was back on her couch. The only thing that told her it hadn’t been a dream was the dripping wet pant bottoms and her ice cold feet. She put her hand over her mouth to keep from screaming. Her eyes were wide as she looked around the room, hoping to see Jack. She had to tell him. Perhaps she had gone crazy too?

She jumped up and got dressed into jeans and a t-shirt. She put on her coat and realized she didn’t know where to find him. She thought of the last time she had seen him and immediately she was standing behind a tree. She walked around it and jumped back in surprise. She peeked back out and saw herself standing at the grave and Jack slipped something into her pocket. She closed her eyes and opened them back in her apartment. She sighed with relief and pulled out the piece of paper. She unfolded it, revealing an address. She ran outside into the cold, thankful she wore her boots as snow began to dance across her eyes.

After about thirty minutes of walking she was trudging through five inches of snow on an unfamiliar street with big houses. It was dark and she had to squint to see the numbers on each house. Obviously this was the better part of town, with houses that actually had yards and more than five bedrooms. She looked each house over, the further along the road, the bigger they got.

She finally stopped in front of a big brick mansion. She could tell it was old since the brick had started to cover with ivy. There was a tower standing tall against the night sky. Lights shown from its windows. She slowly opened the iron gate and walked up the cobblestone path. Looking at this house was almost like looking at the streets of London in 1835. She gulped as she walked up the steps to the big front door. She used the knocker that was shaped like a lion, and after a few seconds and older man in a tuxedo opened the door. His brown hair was balding on top and he looked very dignified, standing with his back strait. “May I help you Miss?” he said in a deep voice and a strong British accent.

“I’m looking for Jack,” she said, as loud as she could bring herself to talk. The man stared at her for a second.

“One moment please, miss,” he said, shutting the door and leaving her in the cold. She started to think he had forgotten about her when the door opened again. “You may come in,” he bowed, motioning for her to enter. She walked inside, looking around at the tall ceilings with elaborate crown molding and the grand staircase. She was thankful to see the house was powered by electricity, though there were lanterns and candles too. She looked at the giant paintings and vases as she followed the man through the large hallway. He stopped at double doors and opened them, revealing a large library, with sofas and chairs gathered around a large fireplace, where a fire was lit, and thousands of books. “Master Thomas says he will be down shortly,” the man said before bowing and leaving Emily alone.

She walked along the walls and read a few of the spines. She pulled one down and flipped it open. She saw a signature sprawled across the blank page. As she made it out her jaw dropped. She reread it again and sure enough, there in cursive was William Shakespeare’s autograph. She put it up, pulling down another. This one was signed by Mark Twain. She flipped through a few more and read countless autographs. “Emily?” she heard behind her. She turned to see jack standing at the door, confused. She couldn’t find any words. “Is everything alright?” he asked, looking concerned now. She felt tears sting her eyes.

“I thought he was crazy,” she whispered, letting the tears slowly roll down her face. “I never believed him.” Jack’s eyes grew wide, understanding what had happened. He rushed to her, hugging her, and she didn’t have the energy to fight. She stood there, sobbing into his shoulder. He moved to the couch and sat, listening to her tell her story. He smiled as she finished and she found herself frowning. “Am I crazy now?” she asked seriously, studying his eyes for an answer. All she received was him doubling over in laughter. She hit him in the arm and he flinched, trying to contain the laughter.

“I’m pretty sure you were already crazy, now you just have something to blame it on,” he wiped away a tear. And that made her smile. She looked down at her hands, thinking of all the times her grandfather had tried so hard to convince her. Jack saw her grow sad again and picked a book off of the shelf nearest him. He put his feet on a table in front of him and cleared his throat, opening the book. He smiled at her as he began, “Alice was beginning to get very tired of sitting by her sister on the bank, and of having nothing to do: once or twice she had peeped into the book her sister was reading, but it had no pictures or conversations in it, and what is the use of a book, thought Alice, without pictures or conversation.” Emily lay down beside him, listening to him read about Alice in wonderland. Shortly after Alice had fallen she fell herself, into a peaceful sleep.