Page 2 of A Touch for All Time (For All Time #3)
New York City
Summer 2024
A ria studied three of her best students while they practiced. Michael’s isolations and gestures were almost perfect, Jake’s lifts and contributions to the choreography were unparalleled, and Brenda—well, she was already the star of the show. The top in her dance class, Brenda Louise Peacock was Blagden’s School of Contemporary Dance’s prima ballerina. But which of the men would Aria send to the next round of auditions? Both were extremely talented, and they shared great potential. Together they were perfect, but individually, they lacked in certain areas. One area was passion. Their facial expressions were wooden.
“Michael,” Aria said sternly, walking toward him, her dance slippers silent on the polished wooden floor, “your breath is off. Fix it. The best of the best will all be there tomorrow, vying for the chance to be Romeo in this production. If you’re content to remain off-Broadway, then don’t do your best.”
He had the gall to smile at her, as if all this was a joke.
“Michael, I wouldn’t mind your arrogance if you had what it took to back it up,” she said wryly. “But you don’t. I’m going to show you.” She cast her cool, blue gaze at Jake and Brenda. “Take five. Not you,” she told Michael when he moved to sit with them. She called to Alexa to play her playlist. She looked in the wall-length mirror, loving this side of it, missing it as if it were her last breath.
She’d rather be dancing than teaching…than anything. But her dancing days were over. She’d had to accept it after the car accident left her close to being unable to walk again, let alone dance. Still, she’d been spared more than her older brother, Connall. More than her father. The money from teaching paid the rent where she lived with her family. She also worked a night job and would get a third job if she had to. They didn’t receive money from the accident since they claimed it was her father’s fault. She would do whatever was needed to help her mother, since her father could no longer do anything but lie in his sickbed.
She pulled her ponytail free, and locks of glossy, chestnut hair cascaded over her shoulders almost to her waist.
“I’d rather watch you dance, Ms. Darling,” Michael said dreamily.
She looked at him standing beside her in the mirror. “Keep up with me, or you’re out.”
“C’mon, Ms. Darling,” Michael lamented, sounding younger than his nineteen years. “That’s not fair. No one can keep up with you.”
She bit her lip. Maybe that had been true before the car accident that left her with broken bones everywhere, including a compound break of her tibia that stopped her from pursuing her professional dance career.
The memory of that fateful night a little over a year ago brought tears to her eyes and made her throat burn. She didn’t try to subdue her emotions but let them lead her. The music started.
She had been dancing since she was a little girl. She’d worked harder than any in her class and always gave one hundred percent. It had earned her the lead in a Broadway production. Her dream had come true. To celebrate, her parents and brother had taken her out to dinner. She remembered how proud they were of her. Her father even bought an expensive bottle of wine so they could toast her. He’d had one glass.
One glass.
For the first few seconds, she kept her steps simple, but she soon grew lost in the dance, a blend of ballet and lyrical dance. She’d trained in jazz and three different forms of ballet, lyrical and contemporary.
They crashed trying to avoid another car that ran a red light.
Her push and pull were clearly defined as she pumped her chest toward the lights on the ceiling—or in her mind, the starry night she had opened her eyes to, trapped upside down in her parents’ car.
While she danced, she kept her breath steady as she spun her head, fanning her tresses outward. She bent into a penché then straightened with the perfect grace of a cat stretching under the sun. She didn’t jump or leap. She never would again. She spun on the heels of her feet, knees bent, head thrown back spilling her hair to the floor.
Why would she care what Michael thought was fair? Was it fair that her father had worked hard all his life, only to get charged with a DUI, lose his pension, and gain a head injury that left him unresponsive but clinging to life, and a prognosis that left his family devastated. Or her brother, whose dream it was to be a police officer, now confined for life to a wheelchair or prosthetic legs. Everyone’s dream had ended on a night of celebration. The world wasn’t fair. A lesson Michael hadn’t yet learned.
She changed the dynamic of the dance to something more emotionally charged, complete with running her palm over the side of her face and temple, tears streaming down her cheeks as she gazed in the mirror, bringing more interest to her most miniscule gestures. One didn’t need perfect pirouettes and grand jetés to compete. Her form down to her fingertips was more fluid than Michael’s, while at the same time her moves were more powerful, more expressive, and conveyed a more passionate love of what she was doing.
At some point, Michael gave up and stopped dancing to watch her. When she finished, she heard some sniffling. She may have made them cry but she was being careful, afraid to break again.
Her students clapped, including Michael. He hadn’t been able to keep up. “Class is over.”
“Miss Darling—” Michael began.
“Jake, I’ll see you tomorrow at the audition.”
“Seriously?” Michael snorted and shook his head at her.
“You’re making my decision easier,” she warned him. “You know as well as I do that you’re not ready for a full length production. Practice until you’re at your best.”
He looked as if he could punch her in the jaw. He murmured something Aria was sure she wouldn’t like if she bothered to listen and stormed out.
After Jake thanked her profusely, he left with Brenda. It wasn’t because he was better than Michael that she chose him. He wasn’t her ideal to play the role of Romeo, in Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet. But then, she’d never met a Romeo she actually liked. It wasn’t what they lacked in dancing, but rather what they lacked in emotion. It was as if they were all afraid of being too vulnerable, of going deep and letting true passion take over. Shame, it was part of what made a good dancer great.
She was about to shut the lights and leave the studio when the door opened, and Mrs. Blagden of Blagden’s School of Contemporary Dance stepped into the studio.
“Oh, I’m so glad I caught you before you left, Aria,” the older woman said, coming to her. She wore a long cream-colored dress made of thin linen fabric with tiny brown leaves sewn down the side. Low brown heels clicked on the floor as she approached. Her gray hair was drawn back in a loose bun low on her nape. Pearl stud earrings added to her ethereal appearance.
Aria had known the older, eccentric woman since she was seven. Mrs. Blagden had invited Aria’s mother to bring her daughter to the dance school she’d just opened. For free. Of course, her mother had agreed, since Aria had already shown interest in becoming a ballerina. Over the years, Aria discovered that Mrs. Blagden had money coming out of her ears and she showered Aria with a lot of it for some reason Aria never questioned. Even paying the hospital bills after the accident. She would have opened an art school if Aria had wanted to paint, a photography school if Aria had shown interest in taking pictures. But Aria had wanted to dance.
She gave Aria every opportunity she needed to be a professional dancer if Aria put the work in, and of course, Aria had. After the accident, she even offered to pay for a nurse to care for her father and brother. Aria’s mother had refused.
“I got a call from my daughter in England,” Mrs. Blagden told her now. “There was an offer on some property I own over there. I must meet with the buyer the day after next.”
“I didn’t know you had property across the pond,” Aria said, surprised. There was so much she didn’t know about her benefactor. “Is it a castle or something?” she asked with a playful smile.
“No, no,” Mrs. Blagden laughed. “It’s nothing so grand.”
Aria narrowed her gray-blue eyes on the attractive old woman. Aria often imagined Mrs. Hester Blagden had been a pretty woman in her day. “I have a feeling it has at least twenty rooms.”
“It’s missing more than half the roof.”
Aria laughed and pulled off her dancing shoes. “When are you leaving?”
“Tonight,” Mrs. B. informed her while Aria slipped into leather flats and straightened.
“Take this.” She handed Aria a key.
It was an old-fashioned looking thing. A skeleton key if Aria remembered correctly. It had a pretty, filigree-shaped bow with a long stem and a folded bit that shined under light.
“It’s the building key. I just need you to lock the doors in the evening and unlock them in the morning.”
“Of course.” Aria took the key and then held it up to the light. “It’s so shiny and golden.”
“Yes, it’s made of gold.”
Aria’s eyes opened wider. “ Real gold?”
“Yes, dear, and it’s one of a kind so don’t lose it. I’ll leave it with you tonight and let you practice locking up. The key can be a little tricky.”
Aria nodded and clutched the key in both hands.
“Is that what you’re going to wear to go home?” Mrs. B. looked her over in her sleeveless top and short, flowy skirt and leotard with a worried frown creasing her brow. “Don’t you have anything to cover up your legs a bit more? Also, it’s dangerous out there, dearest. That skimpy top you’re wearing might be taken the wrong way by unethical men.”
Aria looked down at herself. “It’s ninety degrees outside,” she muttered quickly. In a louder voice she looked up apologetically. “Mrs. B., you know I can take care of myself out there. You’re the one who paid for my self-defense lessons. Besides, I don’t have anything here to change into.”
Mrs. Blagden sucked her teeth and shook her head. “What’s that pink shirt hanging over there? And I know I saw a blanket in your office the day before last. Bring them.”
Aria blinked at her. “Bring my sweatshirt and a blanket? Why do you want me to take a blanket? Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Of course, my dear girl. Just humor me and wear the shirt over the top you’re wearing.” She took a little breath and shook her head slightly. “It doesn’t even have sleeves. Take the blanket, hmm?”
Aria bit her bottom lip, then did as she was bid. Was her friend ill? Should Aria insist on taking her to the hospital? Why would she need to wear a sweatshirt and have a blanket? It was hot and humid out in the middle of August.
Nevertheless, she slipped on the sweatshirt, gathered the folded blanket in her small office, then returned to her Mrs. B.
“Isn’t today your brother’s birthday?” Mrs. Blagden remarked after Aria shut off the lights and they left the studio together.
“Yes,” Aria answered, not surprised that her dear friend remembered Connall’s birthday. “Twenty-five.”
“Oh, maybe I should give you the key for another night.”
“Nonsense,” Aria said, refusing to give it back. “What does Conn’s birthday have to do with anything?”
Mrs. B. looked to be thinking about the question, then she sighed softly. “How is the poor dear doing?”
“He’d love it if you came by,” Aria told her.
“Oh, I’d love to, but my flight is in a few hours. I’ll bring something back for him.”
Aria smiled lovingly. Mrs. Blagden claimed to be eighty-three, but her skin was peachy smooth with very few wrinkles.
“He’ll be happy just to see you,” Aria told her, taking her hand as they walked together to the exit of the building. The sad truth was that Conn wasn’t happy about anything anymore. “Mom will make your favorite, her beloved crock-pot beef stew.”
“You know I do love her beef stew.”
Aria looked at her as they came to the building doors. “You sound melancholy, as if you won’t eat it again. Is everything alright?”
“Yes, yes. I was just remembering all the flavors and how tender the meat is. Perfect for my old teeth.”
Aria pulled her a little closer. “I’ve been practicing the recipe so I can make it for you.”
Mrs. Blagden pulled Aria’s hand to her cheek. “You are my dear girl.”
Aria smiled, knowing how much Mrs. B. cared for her. She’d already written Aria into her will to inherit the building. Aria couldn’t express her gratitude enough. Bills were beginning to get paid off and there was money for her parent’s rent.
They left the building, and Aria slipped the key into the keyhole.
“Aria, my dear,” she heard Mrs. Blagden say. Her voice sounded different—weaker, distant. “I saw you dance.”
Aria lifted her gaze from the keyhole to her friend. She blinked, and then her heart began to race. The vision of Mrs. Blagden was fading.
“I want you to… always… dance.”
One second. Less than that and she was gone.
She vanished before Aria’s astonished eyes. “Mrs. B?” She reached out her hand, but no one was there. In fact, everything had changed. There were no buildings anywhere her eyes could see. There were trees—bare, snow-covered trees everywhere. Snow? What? She closed her eyes and shook her head. Maybe it was she who needed to go to the hospital. None of this was real. It couldn’t be. “Mrs. B?” she tried again. “If you can hear me, call an ambulance right away.”
She waited a second, then opened her eyes. Nothing had changed. Trees as far as her eyes could see. A white fog appeared before her face until she realized what it was and stopped breathing. It was cold out. Really cold. How? How could that possibly be? It couldn’t be. She let out her breath and watched the swirling wisps rise from her mouth.
She wrapped the blanket around her shoulders. How had Mrs. B. known she’d need to stay warm?
“Mrs. B., something terrible has happened to me? It must be from the accident. I…I can’t see you and there’s snow everywhere.”
But her friend didn’t answer her. In fact, silence echoed around her. And the booming sound of a twig snapping.
Had dancing triggered some abnormality in her brain?
“Hello? Someone help.”
She heard movement to her right. She looked that way, her heart pounding so hard, it hurt. Her head felt as if it was spinning. She closed her eyes as a wave of nausea washed over her. She had to try to relax. How? How does one find rest when the whole world just changed before their eyes? She took a tentative step, wrapped in her throw. What was she going to do? Where was she supposed to go?
“Miss?”
She spun around. A man stood behind her. He looked to be about the same age as she. He wore…he wore an overcoat of brown leather that reached his ankles and flared out into two tails behind him. He carried a shovel.
“Stay away from me!” Aria warned. She didn’t care what he looked like. He either wasn’t real; she’d made him up in her mind—or he was real, and if that was the case, why did he have a shovel? She didn’t want to wait around for answers. She turned again to leave and tripped over her numb feet.
She felt his fingers clamp around her upper arm. She flailed and the blanket fell into the snow. Snow. Her feet were so cold.
The man pulled her to her feet and smiled again. “Are you hurt?”
“No!” She stepped back and readied herself to kick him in the throat if he moved. “Where am I?”
“Hmm?” he asked, giving her a curious look. “On our land.”
“Whose is ‘our’?”
“My family. The Gables.”
“Where though? What’s the name of this place? All of it, not just your land? Where are we?”
“We are in Dartmouth in Devon,” he told her, his expression turning to pity. “In England.”
Yes! He had a British accent! No. No. It couldn’t be! England? She laughed holding her palm to her head. “Is this a joke? Please, tell me it’s a joke.”
He shook his head, looking confused.
“I was in New York. This is New York.” She closed her eyes and said it over again. “This is New York. This is New York.”
“You should come inside before you freeze to death. Odd that we had such a heavy snowfall in May, but—”
“May?” she asked, feeling dizzy. “But it’s August.”
“Come, Miss. Come inside. I fear the cold has already—”
“Come inside where? What do you intend to do? I’ll tear out your eyes.”
He stared at her for a minute, looking more serious. “I intend to bring you to my mother and to our table so you can fill your belly. Mayhap, my sister will let you share her bed so you can sleep under the shelter of our roof.”
A tempting offer. But…he could be a rapist, a maniac who went around killing women with a shovel. “No thanks.”
“Where will you sleep?” he asked.
She looked around. There was nothing but trees. She thought she saw a movement within the trunks. What…
“Miss. You will die if you do not find shelter.”
She looked at the guy again. “You said you have a sister. Bring her here.”
He hesitated for a moment and then turned and hurried away.
Aria watched him go. Should she go home with him? Was she crazy even considering going home with some stranger? She was a New Yorker. Trust no one.
While she waited, she played over and over in her head what had happened. She was talking and walking with Mrs. B. They’d left the building, and Aria had turned to lock…the key. The key. The more she thought about it, the more it warmed her…hand. She looked down at it still in her palm. Had it brought her to some field within a forest in England? She should laugh. It was impossible. Then she heard something. Aria turned her chattering teeth and frozen toes to the trees. Could it be a bear? Her mouth went dry and her heart pounded again. There it was again! The slightest movement deep in the shadows, then a flash of red! She narrowed her eyes on the shadows. “Hello?”
Only silence met her ears. A twig cracked, booming in the wind.
Should she run?
She wiped the cold sweat from her brow and narrowed her eyes on the forest. Seconds passed with her searching, ready to flee.
“Miss? Here’s my sister, Sarah.”
Aria turned, her heart still racing, and faced the man who had returned with a younger woman with dark chestnut hair, like her alleged brother’s. Hers was long and braided down her back. Her smile was shy.
“You can come home with us and get warm. Will will not hurt you.”
“Will?”
“My brother,” Sarah let her know, motioning to him.
Aria sighed with deep relief and looked over her shoulder again where she’d seen…something. Finally, she nodded and took a step closer to the girl.
“By the way?” Aria asked them as they walked in the snow. “What kind of clothes are you wearing? They don’t look anything like what I’ve seen where I live.”
“I was going to ask you the same thing,” Sarah admitted with a shy smile. “You must be freezing without an overcoat.”
“It was sum—I wasn’t prepared for this.”
Will flashed his smile at her. She looked away. There was a reason she was single at twenty-three without a guy for miles. Oh, there were plenty around her, but no one appealed to her. Mrs. B. used to say it was because the right man hadn’t come into her life yet. When he did, Aria would know it.
And then what was she supposed to do? Date someone who made her belly flip for a second—until she got to know him better. Men, especially the few dancers she knew, were basically alike, dead, dispassionate, wet fish who knew nothing about real love.
“You mentioned New York earlier,” Will brought up. “Where is that?”
“In America.”
Will and Sarah stopped.
“You come from the colonies?”
“Is that not where all the miscreants are sent?” Sarah asked, bringing her hands to her chest.
Will put his hand on his sister’s shoulder. “I am sure this lady is no miscreant.”
How did he know? How could he make such a declaration? “You’re right, I’m not.”
“How did you get here?” Sarah asked.
Aria swallowed and closed her hand tighter around the key. She didn’t think she should tell these two strangers any more than she already had.
She saw the house nestled within a stand of trees. It was made from timber and stone. Smoke rose from the chimney and candles lit the windows. It looked warm. She needed warmth.
“Are you sure it’s okay with your mother to take in a stranger?”
Will nodded, then glanced down at her hopping feet. “May I carry you before your feet get frostbitten?”
If he wasn’t a killer, he had a nice voice, soft and laced with concern and kindness.
“I think I can make it to the door,” she reassured him—and then tripped over her numb feet and headed straight for the ground.
Will’s hands came to her rescue. He caught her in the cradle of his arms before she hit the cold, hard ground. He stared down at her as if nothing else existed in the world but her.
She looked away, flushed by a possible killer!
Before she had time to tell him to put her down, he scooped her off her feet and carried her the rest of the way to the house.
“This may sound a little crazy,” Aria began, avoiding his gaze, “but what year is this supposed to be? Is it still 2024?”
He dipped his dark brow giving her a look that said exactly what she would have said if someone asked her what she just asked. “It is 1795, Miss.”
She didn’t move. She didn’t breathe. “17—no. Impossible.” She felt as if something inside her was rumbling, making her whole body shake. “No. It can’t be. It’s impossible. My family—” Her eyes filled with tears. “If this is real, how will I get back to the twenty-first century? My family needs me! Oh, I need to wake up. Sarah! Pinch me!”
“Miss, you need to remain calm,” Will reasoned. “No one is going to pinch you. We will find your family.”
Aria wanted to believe him—but she couldn’t. She didn’t know him. He’d never ever believe what had happened to her. She didn’t believe it. Best not to come off as a raving lunatic claiming unearthly things. “So cold.”
She felt Will draw her closer. She closed her eyes, safe for the first time since this madness began. And then a sword came down hard on Will’s blade. Will had a sword? She hadn’t noticed it before. She wanted to stay awake, but the world she didn’t know began to fade. Was she going somewhere else? Home?
She caught sight of something red before she fell unconscious from the freezing air. It was a man, though she couldn’t see his face. High on horseback, his shoulders under his woolen, red overcoat wide and straight. He’d been watching her from the trees. Now he was fighting Will. For her? He turned and for the briefest of moments he settled his gaze on her in Will’s arms. His eyes were the color of Caribbean waters filled with deadly creatures and fathomless secrets. He reached behind his back for a red feather-tipped arrow and then, bringing his bow up, he nocked his arrow, pulled his bowstring taut, and began to turn to someone to their left. He fired before his gaze reached whoever he was about to shoot.
Aria heard someone’s body thump on the ground, and then she didn’t see or hear anything else.