The Monday morning sunrise found Wendy on her phone app checking road conditions. Her fears were realized as the app advised that she would not be able to travel up the road to the Van Buren house. It relieved her, though, to find she could drive to work. Another day cooped up in the house would have driven her mad. Next, she called Zachary’s office number again.
“Good morning. Rye Harbor Custom Sailboats,” greeted a pleasant female voice. Thankfully not Ramona.
“Good morning. May I please speak with Zachary Van Buren?”
“I’m sorry, but he’s out of the shop right now.”
“When do you expect him back? It’s urgent that I speak with him.”
“Well, it’s going to be a while. Right now he’s somewhere between Miami and Montego Bay on Bermuda Blues. I don’t expect him back for another week or so.”
Gone? He was gone? She remembered that he’d mentioned being out of town. “You said he was on Bermuda Blues?”
“Oh, sorry, I just assume anyone who calls here knows. It’s a racing sailboat, a seventy-one-foot beauty. They’re going for their second win in a row. Is there anything I can help you with?”
“Not unless you can patch me through to him on that sailboat.”
“I’m afraid not. No signal. I can take your information and get a message to him next time he checks in, though.”
Wendy debated. Was Ramona privy to his messages? Was she on the sailboat with him? “No, I'll just try his wife.”
“She left a little while ago and won’t be back until tomorrow morning.” So Ramona wasn’t with him. He was enjoying some freedom anyway. Then the phrasing of the woman’s statement sank in. “She works there?”
“She and Zachary own the shop. I can leave her a message.”
Own the shop? “Uh, that’s okay. I'll try her at home.”
She hung up and slumped back in her chair. They owned a business together. “Didn’t see that coming.” When he was nineteen, he said they worked at the same place. Apparently they still did. Could that be what bound them? But lots of couples owned businesses together and divorced. Messy, no doubt. Reason enough to stay in an unhappy marriage, doubtful.
Hours later, the Mylar sheet spread across her drafting table looked as white and blank as the snow outside. She drew a line, erased it, drew another line, erased that. The numbers weren’t working, the ideas weren’t coming. She had already wound five curls so incessantly that they now stuck out like springs on an old mattress.
When the radio station announced that most roads would be passable by tomorrow afternoon, she let out a whoop of joy.
Ted Johnson, the most solemn associate in the firm, peered around her door. “You all right?”
“I’m fine. Just got some good news, that’s all.”
He waited perhaps for her to share the news, then nodded and disappeared around the door. He wouldn’t understand her joy at the passable road anyway. But Morris would.
“The road to the past is clear,” she intoned when he answered the phone.
“Am I to understand by your greeting that we might reach the house now?”
“Yes. Tomorrow is yesterday.”
“Wendy, I think this time travel business is doing strange things to your mind.”
“It’s the waiting that’s making me crazy. Knowing it’s right there, yet beyond my reach, has been torture. Now I feel like I’ve had ten cups of coffee injected into my veins.”
“Well, you can’t make time go faster. Then again, maybe you can. If anybody could, I’d place a bet on it being you.”
“I appreciate your vote of confidence. Now all I have to do is prove the existence of ghosts and UFOs, and I’ll be up for some kind of nomination.”
“One thing at a time, please. I don’t think I can take any more excitement than this right now. And I think your ten cups of coffee are affecting me as well.”
Wendy laughed. “I hope you can go back, too.”
“So do I, m’dear. So do I.”
“I’d better get back to work. I’ll meet you at my place at two.”
“I shall be there with wings on my feet and a notepad in my pocket.”
Wings made her think of angels, and angels made her think of Zachary. Reminding herself that this was his house didn’t help her to focus in on the purpose of the blank Mylar in front of her. It took her an hour and a half just to draw four lines that escaped the electric eraser. Tomorrow was going to be a long day. At least until two.
Just before three o’clock on Tuesday, Morris and Wendy followed a snowplow that was clearing the road of fresh snow from the night before. Her fingers curled around the steering wheel in frustration.
Morris looked at his watch, then tried to look around the plow. “Do you know how far it is after the blue mailbox?”
“Did you say a blue mailbox?”
Morris peered around the plow again. “Yep, that’s what it looks like to me.”
She grabbed his arm and shook it. “That’s it. That’s the house.”
Snow still covered the driveway leading up to the house. At least it was reassuring that no one else could easily reach it.
“Think we can make it?” he asked.
She assessed the slope. “I’m kicking in the four-wheel drive.”
Morris held onto the so-called Jesus strap as Wendy navigated the drive. The tires lost traction halfway up, and the car slid down a few feet.
Wendy said, “Hold on. We’re going to make it. I insist.”
The tires grabbed hold and moved them over and around the bend. The house was in sight, but the snow from the previous Sunday, combined with last night’s layer, piled up in front of them.
“I say we make a run for it,” Wendy said.
“Run? You expect me to run in snow and ice?”
“Do you want to go back in time or sit in the car and wait?”
Without replying, he opened his door and slid out, sinking into the soft snow. Wendy jumped out, too, and they began wending their way toward the house.
“This reminds me of my wedding dream. I keep trying to walk down those stairs toward Zachary, yet my feet won’t move more than my allotted steps. It feels just like walking in this snow.”
“Have you still been having those dreams?”
“Every night since I met him. I still keep getting closer.”
By the time they reached the front door, they were out of breath. Wendy fumbled with the key, her fingers numb with cold. Once the door was closed, quiet descended upon them.
She walked to the staircase and the statue beside it. “This is where it happened. I was standing here, and these sparks of color danced all around.”
“I see faint dashes of color on the wall over there.”
“It was much more than that, and they were focused right here on this spot. But the sun isn’t coming in at the same angle, and I’m pretty sure it was hitting the heart.” As she looked at it, she realized there was something different about it. To her astonishment, it looked smaller than last time. She was sure of it. What did the size change mean?
Morris stepped up beside her. “Is this the magic spot?”
“I don’t know.”
She spun the smaller heart around, but the lights didn’t whirl and dance like last time. In fact, the sparkles weren’t even near the bottom of the stairs. She stood in the same spot anyway, closed her eyes and waited.
After a few minutes, she carefully opened one eye, then the other. She was still in the same empty house. The only sound she heard was the tick-tick of a clock. She turned to find the source, a grandfather clock that was at least seven feet tall, with floral patterns centered around the design of a bird. She watched the pendulum swing back and forth in the little round window.
“I don’t remember hearing the clock before,” she said. Now it seemed to reverberate throughout the room. “Wait. I did hear the clock. Not the tick-tick, but the chiming of the hour. She looked up to see what time it was, and as she did, it began chiming. Bong, bong, bong. Before she could even wonder if it had been the chiming of the clock combined with the touching of the statue that had taken her back, the chiming ended.
“Maybe I was dreaming it all. Maybe I…” She looked back at the clock. “It chimed four times last time. Four bells, four o’clock. And the sun streamed through the window and lit the crystal heart on fire. It’s not in the right position to do that yet.”
Morris sat down on the bottom step. “Four o’clock must be the magic time. An hour is definitely worth waiting for the past.”
They spent the hour sprawled on either end of the leather couch in the parlor talking about the past—a different past than Zachary’s.
“Did you know David cried at your college graduation ceremony?” Morris asked.
Her eyes widened. “He did?” He solemnly nodded. “I never knew that. I could see that Dad was happy, but I didn’t realize how much it meant to him. Well, maybe I did when I found the papers he’d drawn up to make me a partner.”
“I remember him telling me his plans to surprise you. He was so proud of you. I’m sure he still is.”
She felt a big stupid grin spread across her face. The chiming of the grandfather clock jerked her back to present. “It’s time.” She lurched from the couch and ran to the stairs. “Stand where the colors point to the bottom of the stairs and hold my hands.”
As the last bell chimed, they clasped their hands together. She held her breath and waited. Nothing happened.
Morris, who had squeezed his eyes shut, slowly opened them again. “Nothing looks different.”
“Last time I went back, it happened a minute after the four o’clock hour. Let’s wait another minute.” Several seconds later, she said, “Look, the colors are brighter. This is when it happens, Morris. This is it.”
She could feel the warmth of his hand on hers, then blackness wrapped its velvety glove around her. The intense vibrancy of life lifted her to a plateau of inner pleasure.
After a few moments, the shadows began to subside. She no longer felt Morris’s damp hands in hers. The smell of freshly cut wood permeated the air. A saw buzzed somewhere. She had absolutely no idea where she had ended up this time.