A Twist of Time

The day was a formidable one at best with the downpour of rain and the occasional streaks of lighting that stretched across the expanse of the skies as well as the ominous rolls of thunder. Looking out the large window that practically covered the entire wall of one side of the den, Piper yawned and relaxed, sinking deeper into the cushions of the comfy sofa, the book she was reading perched on her chest. It was such a dreary day that she could not help feeling sleepy yet again even though she’d slept later than usual that morning.

Her normal days of vacation almost always consisted purely of unwinding or downtime, doing precisely whatever she felt like doing, and oftentimes, exploring wherever she happened to be. This year, she had chosen a week at the beach, and go figure, the forecast called for rain nearly every single day. Of all the times to choose a beach vacation! Still, the house was lovely and comfortable with a beautiful oceanfront view. And it was true that Piper loved the beach no matter what time of year and what type of weather. Come winter, fall, spring, or summer and in rain or sunshine, the soft lull and roll of the tide’s waves were always an inspiration and peaceful interlude.

In the background, soft strains of Chopin’s Nocturnes played as Piper attempted to continue with her book, Wuthering Heights. It had always been one of her favorites, and she was determined to read it again since the last time had been when she was only twelve years old. That had been twelve years earlier, so rereading it at twenty-four years of age was a long overdue endeavor on her part. In this dreary, rainy weather, she could easily picture the haunting heather filled moors described in the novel. And as dark a character as Heathcliff was, he was still an intriguing one to which Piper was immensely drawn. She picked up her coffee and took a deep sip of the rich brew, hoping it would help to keep her awake, at least long enough to complete the chapter she was reading.

It was less than an hour later when Piper gave up her quest to stay awake, placing the book face down on the coffee table and turning herself to settle more comfortably on the sofa as she pulled down the yellow afghan that lay across the top cushion to cover her lower body. Lulled by the soft music, the sound of rain, and the warmth beneath the afghan, she quickly fell into a deep sleep.

*********

Was she dreaming? She must be dreaming, she thought to herself. She could smell the mustiness of the damp earth and the heather that bloomed across the moors that stretched before her as far as the eye could see. It was no longer raining, but she could easily tell that the rain had only all too recently stopped. And she no longer was inside the beach house. Where on earth was she and what exactly was going on?

Looking down, she realized, much to her amazement, that she was not dressed in the comfy jeans and t-shirt that she had lazily donned earlier that morning. Instead, she wore a soft, printed muslin gown that flowed all the way down to her feet and covered much of her arms as well. There was an intricate pattern of embroidered flowers dispersed throughout the dress and delicate wisps of lace attached here and there to accent the loveliness of the pattern - and perhaps to hide a bit of the fullness of her breasts. Beneath the hem of the long dress, Piper saw her feet peeking out, but instead of being covered in the navy colored Converse tennis shoes she normally wore, they were encased in silk textured shoes. While lovely, they were not at all what Piper was used to wearing, and she quickly noted their flimsiness.

Glancing up and looking as far in the distance as possible as she turned, her body creating a full circle, she searched for any sign of the ocean that had all too recently been just outside her door. No ocean. No sand. No waves. No seagulls. Only moors and heather as far as the eye could see. Perplexed and confused, she took a step forward and headed to a nearby crabapple tree. While the skies were still mostly overcast, there was a humid heat in the air, and sunshine was peeking through the clouds. She was unused to wearing so much clothing in the warmer weather and quickly sought the comfort of the shade created by the tree.

As she reached the crabapple tree and leaned against its trunk, she deliberately pinched her arm with a force with which to be reckoned. She had to be dreaming! But instead, she only winced at the pain she felt from the strength of her two fingers as they twisted the skin of her forearm. What the devil was going on? Had she leapt through some crazy tunnel of time to land in England amidst what appeared to be the nineteenth century? While her mind raced and searched for answers, she could not deny the situation in which she found herself or the clothing that she wore. She was about as far away from the ocean at Kiawah Island in South Carolina as she could be. Instead, it appeared she was on the outstretched moors somewhere in England – and, even more perplexing, in an entirely different span of time.

Settling her mind on that which she could not ignore, Piper began to realize that this all too apparent transition might not be the worst thing ever. Had she not always felt misplaced in the twenty-first century? It was true: she did indeed feel misplaced, even as much as she loved her Southern roots, her family, her friends, and the city of Charleston, SC where she had been born. A slight smile tugged at her lips. Dream or no dream, she was going to make the best of this situation. After all, perhaps she’d stumble across someone as handsome as Heathcliff. Yet, she could not help but wonder how long it would take for her to do just that. The day would eventually end and where would that leave her?

Looking down at the ground beside the tree, she realized there was a blanket spread with a picnic basket atop it. Where had that come from? It was as if she’d been expected. Carefully taking a seat on the blanket, she opened the basket to find refreshments: a portion of bread, a wedge of cheese, a pear, blackberries, and a bottle of wine along with two small glasses. Was she supposed to have a guest, she wondered as she glanced about?

Nestled inside the basket, beneath all the food and wine, was also a leather bound book. Removing everything, she picked up the book and opened it. No surprise there: Wuthering Heights. Well, since the book was published in 1847, the period in which she now found herself had to be somewhere during the latter half of the nineteenth century. This was proving to be interesting, to say the least. Now if only her expected guest would arrive. She was more than anxious to learn for whom the second glass might be intended – or if it was just an extra glass and nothing more.

Settling more comfortably upon the blanket, Piper pulled out the stopper and poured herself a glass of the burgundy wine. It was fruity, yet spicy, and satisfied her thirst while also relaxing her a wee bit. Anyone would be a little anxious under the circumstances, she reminded herself. Pulling off a piece of the bread and nibbling at the berries and cheese, she found that she was much hungrier than she knew. The morning’s coffee had done little to satisfy her appetite.

Strangely, she was rather calm, she thought to herself, all things considered. Growing more accustomed to her situation as the sun rose high in the sky, nearly blinding her, she peered across the vast moor. Raising her hand and blocking as much of the light as possible, she spotted a distant, tall rider upon a black horse. The rider drew nearer to where she sat against the trunk of the crabapple tree with each gallop of the horse’s strong hooves until she could hear his approach. Piper’s heart suddenly beat rapidly, and to steady her nerves a bit, she downed the small glass of wine and then quickly poured herself another generous measure of the same.

As he drew nearer, the rider steadied the horse. She could easily see that he was a strong version of Heathcliff while also different. He had darkened skin, windswept black hair, crystal blue eyes, and only the slight semblance of a smile upon his stern lips. The biggest difference she could discern was that his clothing was fitted to his lean body, and not at all poorly in appearance. No, this gentleman appeared to be very much just that: a gentleman, and more than likely, a wealthy one. He removed the hat he wore and nodded at her as the black stallion slowed and stopped just inches from her blanket.

“Good morning,” he said, his voice deep and melodic.

‘Hello,” Piper murmured. Was that her squeaky voice she heard? He must already think her a moron.

“I am Barclay. Are you new to our village?”

“Yes. My name is Piper. It’s a pleasure to meet you,” she said, fully aware of the Southern drawl that surfaced as she spoke. There was no denying she was from across the pond and not from England.

He smiled, and Piper thought that it was a lovely smile. With a keen and full awareness of him, she smoothed the errant red curls that swirled about her face in an attempt to tame them and make herself a bit more presentable.

“That’s no British accent,” he smiled. “Are you from the colonies?”

Piper laughed. “Yes. From Charleston…or you may still know it as Charles Towne,” she quickly added.

“Ah, yes. A wonderful city. My shipping company stops in port there frequently. I should have recognized your lovely accent.”

“Where are my manners? Would you care for a glass of wine and some refreshment? It’s rather warm today.” Piper pulled the extra glass from the basket, immensely happy that it was intended for this man. The vibes she got were very good as she watched his lean frame easily dismount the tall horse.

Barclay strode to the edge of the blanket and knelt before her, accepting the glass of wine with an even broader smile and a ‘thank you’, his strong fingers brushing hers. Up close, she could see that his beautiful blue eyes twinkled with undisguised mirth and admiration. She was suddenly very happy she had on the feminine attire she wore opposed to jeans, a t-shirt, and tennis shoes. And hopefully, he would not ask any questions she could not truthfully answer. After all, this was an unexpected journey of sorts, and she certainly had no clue what the next minute or hour would bring.

“Bread? Cheese? Berries?” she asked, feeling inordinately silly, but offering it all to him with her Southern and gracious manners.

“No, thank you,” he said. His voice was rich with the strength of his accent. It had depths to it she would love to discover. Just being this close to him brought an awareness with it, and despite the warmth of the mild day, Piper shivered.

“Did you not bring your wrap, lass?” he asked. "Would you like my coat?"

Piper looked around, unsure of her answer, but then she spotted a lovely lavender shawl behind her on the other side of the tree. Picking it up, she playfully pulled at its decorative fringe.

“Oh, I’m all right – not really cold,” she responded with a smile to match his.

“Aye, indeed. ‘Tis the loveliest of days. I’m so thankful to take Maisy out for a ride this morning after all the rain this week.” Barclay downed his wine, and Piper quickly offered him another glass.

Piper studied the tall horse. She was a beautiful, strong one. When she returned her attention to Barclay, she found his blue eyes intently watching her, as if summing up the measure of her worth.

“You must have been expecting someone,” he said. “I hope I haven’t intruded.”

Piper arched her brow and looked at him questioningly, and he added, “The extra glass?”

“Oh! It’s only for someone who comes along in need of such, like you.” Piper smiled. “I’m glad I could offer you a glass of wine.”

Barclay nodded and smiled as he looked down into his glass.

“Will I see you tonight?” he asked.

“Tonight?”

“At the Pennington’s dance?”

Piper looked down at her lap before she responded. “I hope so,” she responded with all sincerity.

“Aye, I hope so, too,” Barclay said, his blue eyes sparkling as he continued to intently watch her.

“But for now,” he slowly rose, and again, Piper could not help but notice the fine physique he cut in his handsome, well-tailored riding attire, “I have to return home.”

He tipped his hat as he placed it back upon the thick waves of hair. “Until later then.” It was a statement and not a question; he fully expected to see her at the dance that evening.

“Yes, until later. It’s been a pleasure to meet you,” Piper smiled, thoroughly enchanted in the moment and with the man before her.

“The pleasure is all mine, I assure you,” Barclay said as he mounted his horse and galloped away, one final smile upon his handsome lips.

Ah! The embodiment of a hero straight off the pages of a book, Piper thought to herself, immense pleasure filling her. Where were the men like this one in the twenty-first century? She had certainly not stumbled upon any of them in all her years. Taking up the lavender shawl, she wrapped it around her shoulders and then leaned back upon the trunk of the tree, sighing deeply as she closed her eyes, thinking to herself, “What a romantic day and amazing man!”

And suddenly, as if fate was cruel in a twist and manipulation of time, she opened her eyes and found herself lying back on the comfy sofa, her book and coffee mug on the table in front of her, dressed once again in her jeans and t-shirt. Surprised, she quickly stood and realized she had dropped the afghan. As she stooped to pick it up, further amazement was hers: it was not the knitted, yellow afghan she’d pulled from the back of the sofa earlier, but the lavender shawl in which she’d wrapped herself just prior to returning to the present day and time.

It was true! She had not dreamt or imagined all that she’d just experienced. Barclay was real. But as quickly as joy had flooded her, disappointment also filled her at the realization that he was betwixt the centuries in another place. Saddened beyond measure that there would be no Barclay and no evening dance to attend, Piper made her way to the kitchen where she poured herself another cup of black coffee and then settled back into the comfort of the sofa. She noted that it had finally ceased raining, and the sun was peeking through the clouds.

Piper did not know how long she sat there on the sofa, contemplating the strange events of her morning and Barclay, but at some point, she heard a key turn in the lock of the front door. Quickly she rose and headed toward the door, fear a palpable feeling as she turned the handle to open it wide. As she did so, she stepped onto the threshold and into the gleaming afternoon sunlight. The sunshine was unexpectedly so bright she could hardly see her hand in front of her. As she attempted to shield her eyes, she stared directly into blue eyes that she distinctly already knew.

“I’m so sorry, Miss!” A deep, familiar voice greeted her. “My rental agent must have been confused - I didn’t realize anyone was renting the house this week. I‘m the owner and wanted to check out a plumbing situation. I apologize for disturbing you.”

Piper could only stare in wide-eyed wonder at the man who stood before her. He was the spitting image of Barclay.

Finding her voice, she managed to say, “It’s all right. I’m Piper – I’m here for the week. You're welcome to come in and do whatever needs doing.”

“That would be great. Again, miss, I apologize for the inconvenience. I’m Barkley.”

She was not surprised. Close enough in more ways than one she thought as she shook his extended hand.

“Please come in, Barkley. Might I offer you some refreshment? It’s a very hot day after all.”

He smiled and nodded. “That would be wonderful. Thank you.”

Stepping aside for him to move past and enter the house, Piper turned her face to feel the full effect of the afternoon’s sunshine. She was strongly aware of the immensity of a privilege life had just granted her. It was a gift far larger than anything for which she could ever ask. And she could not wait to see where it would take her along the journey. However, in her heart of hearts, she was already certain she knew precisely what the outcome would be. As she reentered the house, a beautiful, knowing smile lit her face much like the sunlight in the blue skies.