A Leap in Time (6 page)

Suddenly I was filled with doubt. Was I crazy for even considering this? As excited as I still was by the idea of being chosen and by traveling where no person from our world has traveled before, I felt an overwhelming trepidation.

I went out to tell the girls goodnight. When I saw them standing there in their baby doll pjs, I burst into tears. “Do you think I’m losing it?”

“Don’t be silly. You’re mistaking our silent worrying for doubt. We’re scared that you’re never coming back. We’re scared something will go wrong and we won’t be able to save you. It’s a lot to process and we’re really trying to show you our support without getting in the way of something you feel destined to do. For God’s sake, we tried on tunics with you tonight. The costume shop owner must think we’re out of our damn minds.” Kate’s voice was sassy and yet full of concern.

Reality hit me like a ton of bricks; it wasn’t their doubt in me that was unraveling me, it was my own self-doubt. Why was I really going? Why was I so emotional? Fresh tears streamed down my face soaking the front of my camisole.

Charlotte put her arm around my shoulder and guided me to the couch. “Don’t be scared.”

Being a diligent planner and strategic thinker, this was completely new territory. The painting was forcing me to put my fate in Destiny’s hands, no questions asked. I couldn’t explain it, but I felt like a moth to a flame and the flame of Pompeii was blazing bright.

“I’m just scared, that’s all.” I wiped the tears from my face and smiled sheepishly. “I feel better now.”

Charlotte slept next to Kate and I on the couch, the same as the previous Friday night and many times before that. Despite feeling emotionally drained, I was full of anticipation and excitement. Yes, excitement.

I sat up in bed a little longer studying our collective research again.

The alarm buzzed on cue at four. Charlotte and Kate woke as if on a silent synchronized mission. We went about our tasks knowing those thirty minutes would fly by at lightning speed. Charlotte helped me dress while Kate made coffee and toast. The adrenalin pumped through my veins, pounding like drums in my ears.

Fully clothed from head to toe in my Roman costume, I was pleasantly surprised by how comfortable I felt in my own skin. From the mirror, a familiar looking young woman smiled encouragingly at me. She looked happy and very pretty. Her chestnut brown hair was loosely twisted in a bun with soft tresses framing her face. Her makeup was soft and wistful and her clothes were magnificent. The elegant jewelry and jewel-encrusted sandals were the perfect accent. I smiled at her.

If I was right about the timing of the portal, I would be back home within an hour. The smell of freshly brewed coffee wafted through the apartment. Smiling at Charlotte, I nodded indicating I was ready.

Usually a coffee drinker for the taste, this morning I needed the caffeine’s quick jolt to my system. As I set my cup down for a refill, the sounds of rustling leaves and babbling water came from the other room.

“It’s started.” I hurried to the painting with Charlotte and Kate right behind me.

I faced my girls for a brief good-bye. “If for some reason I’m not back by five-thirty, don’t panic. There’s still tomorrow. Worse case scenario: if I don’t get back, tell Mrs. Ashton. She’ll know what to do.”

Time was of the essence. We hugged and then they stepped back as if worried they might somehow get sucked into the portrait with me.

I stepped forward ready to face my destiny.

Chapter Seven

I arrived at my tree without incident and began the brisk trek to the city through the field of wildflowers. The beauty was breathtaking—nature at its best. The people of Pompeii must not love the scenic view by the creek as much as me because not a single track could be found.

The only road to the city was a narrow dirtway that extended from the city entrance to beyond what I could see. A few Roman soldiers rode past, pausing only slightly to eye me with suspicion. My heart sank to my feet at the possibility of being interrogated, but I kept on walking with more determination than before. Roman soldiers—bah! It would take a lot more than that to keep me from my goal. As the soldiers disappeared, I felt confident that at the very least, I looked legit. Amen to that!

Within ten minutes, panting from excitement, I stood at the entrance of the glorious city of Pompeii. My heart was pounding out of my chest. “
Carpe diem
,” I muttered as I stepped over the threshold.

The entrance led to the heart of the marketplace. It was noisy, dusty and packed with vendors on each side of the street. My stomach rumbled at the smell of roasted meats and I wasn’t even hungry. The storefronts resembled an open farmer’s market except they had clay walls and roofs on all sides but the street facing side. Vendors displayed their merchandise to entice passersby. Everything from dried meats to baskets of freshly baked bread. Spices and fruit hung on display, intoxicating the air with their pungent, sweet aromas. It looked much like a Turkish bazaar except for the people wearing knee-length togas and leather sandals that laced up around the shins. The people seemed happy, chatting while shopping at a leisurely pace.

Where was all the dust coming from? The streets and sidewalks were cobblestone. I coughed hoping to clear my throat, but it only made things worse.

I made a right onto the first street, memorizing every landmark. The buildings ranged from single- to double-story stone with small plaques at intersections. Prominent families had a similar more decorative plaque at the entrance of their door.

So far, getting my bearings seemed doable, almost too easy. Feeling confident and yet guarded, I blended into the crowd while casually scanning the surroundings. I stifled a giggle at hearing a women’s admiration of my tunic to her girlfriend, wondering where I had it tailored. Ha! If only she knew.

Pompeii reminded me of Verona, which I had visited the summer after college graduation. I was initially drawn there because of Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet, but I fell in love with its charm, architecture and beauty. That same charm was here in everything from the architecture to the marketplace to the bargaining and pleasantries exchanged on this ordinary day. Right then I fell in love with ancient Pompeii.

I ran my tongue over my lips and tried to swallow, to no avail. The urge to cough lurched into my throat. I was deep in the heart of the marketplace now and the persisting cough caused a few elegantly dressed people to back away or cross to the other side of the street. The less wealthy shoppers didn’t seem to mind my ailments; they didn’t spare me their looks of disdain. They probably thought I had the plague or some other terminal disease. So much for blending in. I used my cloak to cover my mouth in hopes of stifling the sound.

On the right, a baker was kneading a round piece of dough. I was so entranced I couldn’t take my eyes off his chubby hands pounding the dough then setting aside small round portions. To my amazement, the cough subsided and fresh air penetrated my lungs.

The baker looked up a second and nodded in my direction. He had very short hair—almost a bowl haircut, dressed in a flour-dusted knee-length cream colored toga with a cloth belt loosely tied around his dense waist. Leather sandals laced up halfway up his thick shins.

I felt slightly dizzy as I walked away. The combination of the heat from the ovens, the adrenalin pumping through my veins, the dust, and very little sleep, were probably the culprits. Startled by the impact of rapid spiraling, I grabbed the counter of the vegetable storefront next to me to steady myself. A few deep breaths didn’t help.

My breath came in small labored rasps. Why was this happening? I was fine a few minutes ago. God almighty, please don’t let me pass out in the middle of the marketplace. After a moment, I felt a bit better. I could stand on my own. Hurried steps approached from behind.
Holy hell!

“My Lady? My Lady? Are you in distress? May I be of help?” asked a woman’s soft Latin voice. She looked to be in her mid- to late-twenties, which placed her around my age. Her long, dark hair was slightly curly. It cascaded down her narrow back and twisted up at the sides to emphasize her olive complexion and sparkling dark brown eyes.

I stood there paralyzed with fear. Part of me wanted to sprint toward my safe tree. But no—this was my test in blending in, passing as a local. I slowly and tentatively faced her.

We stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity. Finally she broke the silence. “Aren’t you feeling well?”

No lady, I’m not feeling well. Where I come from its 2014 and your city is a tourist destination for places that are extinct.

She seemed nice; her kind brown eyes gazed at me with concern. This beautiful stranger was concerned for my wellbeing. I panicked at the thought of having to tell her my prepared life story. What if she didn’t believe me?

Suddenly I couldn’t remember a single detail of what I’d planned to say. What if she asks something I don’t know the answer to?
Holy crap, don’t let this be my doom.

She stepped closer so we didn’t have to shout over the noise of the marketplace. Except the closer proximity between us, ignited the wave of panic building in the pit of my stomach. Please God, don’t let her come any closer.

“Where are you headed?” she asked.

Blackness sucked me into its fold.

When I opened my eyes, I was laying on an opulent dark green silk couch that extended well past my small frame. A pillow of similar material and color was propped behind my head. Strangely enough, and despite the unplanned turn of events, I felt at ease and safe.

The room was well lit from the large open ceiling and, despite the warm weather, felt comfortable and cool. I must be in the atrium, the heart of every home in ancient Pompeii. Furniture was scarce and I knew from my research that the people weren’t fans of bulky large pieces. Instead, they gravitated toward sofas and chaise type seating that could also be used as beds or lounging spaces. The couch, known as a lectus, looked closer to a chaise than a couch. The room seemed well lived in.

The room opened to a garden filled with colorful blooms, herbs, and small bushes. I’ve never felt more grateful for the comprehensive research we did. From what I could see, there were multiple rooms along side each wall confirming my instincts that the young woman from the marketplace came from a wealthy background. By any standard, this was a home belonging to a wealthy family.

“Oh, you’re awake. Thank the Gods for your good health,” chimed the familiar voice of the woman from the marketplace. “Are you in better health?” She examined my face.

“I think I’m better. Thank you for looking after me. Where am I?”

“I brought you here to my family’s home.”

“Oh. I see. And where is that?” The question was out of my mouth before I could soften my approach. I was still adjusting to expressing myself in Latin, unintentionally coming across rough around the edges. I couldn’t tell if she was concerned or confused.

“We live not too far from the bath house. I am Catina. What is your name?”

“Alexandra. How long have I been here?”

“An hour or so. Don’t worry, you can stay with us ‘till you feel better. Are you visiting someone here in Pompeii? I’ve never seen you before.” She looked at me curiously.

“I was just passing through. Uh…on my way to Rome.”

“I see. Are you staying with family?”

“No. I mean, I have an aunt who used to live here, but I’m not sure if she still does.” I let the sentence hang.

“You’re traveling on your own?” The look of utter shock on her face stopped me from saying anything else.

I could tell she wanted to ask a million more questions, but to my great relief, she refrained. I sat up and took the glass of water she offered. I was parched and thankful I didn’t need to ask for a refill because Catina did so from a beautiful painted clay jug on the table.

I had a better view of the atrium and surroundings. The walls were covered with murals of an outdoor garden setting. They were the most beautiful murals I’d ever seen, with intricate details of trees, gardens and blossoming flowers in all shapes and colors. The wall in front of me was covered in mosaic art of what I assumed was the family of this household. The family of four, a boy and a girl with their mother’s arms wrapped lovingly around them, stood next to their father who smiled proudly.

“You don’t look well, Alexandra. Can I bring you something to eat, or some wine maybe?” Catina’s voice snapped me out of my trance. I was so wrapped up in looking around the room, I almost forgot she was sitting next to me.

“I would love a glass of wine. Thank you for being kind to me, Catina.” She returned the most genuine heart warming smile I had ever seen. Could people really be this trusting and kind?

She’d yet to ask anything about myself. Catina left the room. I took the opportunity to clear my head and get my story straight. I needed to get the hell out of here so I could make my way back to the tree by dusk. Catina returned with two goblets of wine and behind her, a stocky woman carried a huge clay platter filled with fruit, cheese, nuts and bread.

“Alexandra, this is Maria. She’s been with our family for years. She helps my mother with managing the household especially the cooking and sewing. Maria is also a talented seamstress.”

Maria placed the platter in front of me on a small end table. “Enjoy your meal. Let me know if there’s anything you need.” She propped a couple more oversized pillows behind my back before walking out of the room in the direction I presumed was the kitchen.

“She’s lovely, isn’t she?” Catina took a small sip from the glass while picking out nuts from the platter. “How long will you be staying in Pompeii, Alexandra?”

“My girlfriends call me Lexi.” I helped myself to grapes and tried to seem relaxed even though my stomach was twisting in knots.

“I heard wonderful things about Pompeii and thought to holiday here before making my way back to Rome.” I hoped my story made sense except, the way Catina was looking at me, I knew she wasn’t convinced. “I was betrothed to a man and it didn’t work out so we went our separate ways during…ah…our journey. I found him in bed with our servant. I know it’s not customary to travel alone, but I couldn’t stay with him another minute.” This sounded more convincing although I couldn’t believe this elaborate story was coming out of my lying mouth.