Tempus (21 page)

Then he said, “Let me help you.”

There were exactly five trees in the little park.  He shifted so that he could support me with one arm.  He turned us toward the one nearest and we took a couple of steps.  Mine were wobbly.

“Maybe you should put your arms around me.  It would help you stay steady.”

In a stupor, I simply did as he said, and we continued toward the tree.  Every place I could feel him against me felt like electric jolts, jumping from his skin, to mine, and back.  I briefly wondered if he were some kind of magician, and had me under a strange spell.  My imagination wanted to run with the idea, but we had reached the tree.

The grass was thick here, and not as trampled as the rest of the park.  I suddenly felt drained of energy, and all I wanted to do was lie down in the soft, cool grass.  I wanted to feel it on my face.  I couldn’t be having a heat stroke, could I?  It wasn’t hot enough for that.

Gabriel helped me sit, and I tried to fight the urge to lie down.  Something
had
to be wrong with me.  Maybe I did need to see a doctor.  I knew if I could only lie down, just for a few minutes, I would feel better. 

Why keep fighting it?

I stretched out in the cool grass, and then rolled over on my stomach.  I knew I was getting dirty, getting grass in my hair, but I didn’t care.  It was so soothing.  When the breeze blew, it was like a caress, and I sighed.

“Do you feel sick?”  A voice asked, sounding farther away than I knew it was.

“No.”  It took too much energy to say more than that.

Once face down in the grass, it wasn’t long before I felt better.  Not that I had felt bad, I had just felt drained.  Now I felt recharged, but I still didn’t want to move.  I could hear the leaves brushing against each other.  Distant birds sang and chattered.  The grass smelled sweet. 

I felt a hand on my back, gently rubbing between my shoulder blades, and I imagined a current of energy running from that hand and right through me.  My senses seemed heightened, so I stayed very still, taking in the sounds, smells, and feelings.  Everything tingled.

“Do you feel that?”  I asked after a while, still face down in the grass.

“Feel what?”  The voice asked.

“That tingly feeling.”  I answered.

“It becomes less noticeable over time.”

That caught my attention.  It wasn’t a yes or no, but it
was
an acknowledgement.  It was also a very strange answer.  ‘Less noticeable over time?’  What?  I rolled over so quickly he lost his balance a little.  I hadn’t realized he was leaning so close to me, and I had all but brought us face to face.  I gasped in surprise.

“Who are you?”  I asked.  It was barely audible, and had he not been so close, I’m sure he wouldn’t have heard it at all.

“
Gabriel
.”  The word came out of his mouth breathy, slow, and caressed my cheeks as if it had substance.

The sun was high behind him and the glow surrounded his head like a halo.  What was it Jennifer had said?  ‘Gabriel, like the archangel.’  At this very second, I wondered.

“Are you an angel, Gabriel?”  It sounded foolish.

“Hardly.” 

As he said that word, he took a deep breath.  A look of self-recrimination crossed his face, followed by a hint of sorrow, and then disappeared.  He was so close I swear I could hear his heart beat.  It was probably my own, which was dutifully pounding away in my chest. 

My emotions were running away.  There was such a strong attraction; it was nothing I had ever felt before.  It felt like more than that—like a
connection
.  I was certain he had a similar feeling, judging by the look in his eyes now, by his breathing.  It was confusing, though.  He was essentially a stranger, so why didn’t he feel like one?  Because of the mirror?  Because of the portrait?  Because of the dreams? 

He reached down and slid his right hand under my head.  He then reached over me and slid the other beneath my shoulder, and gently pulled me up into a sitting position.  I didn’t resist, but I wasn’t much help, either. 

He pulled sprigs of grass out of my hair, and brushed at the back of my shirt.  He brushed my shoulders and arms, then stopped, hand poised in mid air.  A couple of pieces of grass were stuck to my skin, near my collarbone.  He carefully plucked them off, flicking them away with his fingers.

“I should walk you home.”  He said suddenly, rising to his feet and extending a hand.

I glanced at my watch.  Ten thirty?  It couldn’t be!  There was no way I had been at the park that long.  I took the offered hand and rose.  This time I didn’t fall. 

I finished the job Gabriel started, brushing the rest of the grass off my clothes.  What was I missing?  My camera!  I started toward the swings and Gabriel followed.

I grabbed the camera case by the strap, and then suddenly had a brilliant idea.  I pulled the camera out, turned it on, swung around, and said ‘smile’ as I snapped.  He seemed startled for a moment.

“Why did you do that?”  He asked.

“For proof.”  I whispered.

“What?”

I put my camera away.  “I like to take photographs, and I use them to do drawings and paintings. 
People
are my favorite subjects.”  Since that was perfectly true, it made perfect sense, and was a perfect explanation.

“Oh, I see.  I doubt that one will make a nice piece of art.”

“Unless you are willing to pose for me, it will have to do.”  I swung the strap over my shoulder, tilted my head, and smiled.

“Perhaps another time, when I’m dressed more—
appropriately
.”  He looked at his attire in a self-depreciating manner.  I personally thought it was just fine. 
Very
fine.

 “I’ll hold you to it.”  I turned in the direction of my house and started walking slowly.  He took a few quick steps and caught up.  “You don’t have to walk me; it’s just a couple of blocks.  I’m fine now.”

“I see that, but I have an issue.”

“An
issue
?  What kind of
issue
?”  I looked sideways at him as we continued to walk.

“I am extremely thirsty, and my house is quite a distance from here.”  I nodded acknowledgement.  “I could go to the store, which is the opposite direction of my house, or continue with you in the general direction of
my
house.”

“True,” I said, “but isn’t your house a pretty good distance away?  You could get something to drink before you made the long jog home.”

“Or,” he began, “I could trust in your hospitality, and hope you would offer a cold glass of water before I continued my journey.”  He smiled an all-but-irresistible smile.

“If you don’t mind waiting on the porch, I think I could manage a glass of water.”  I was watching my feet shuffle along the concrete sidewalk.

“That is a reasonable and sensible request.  I accept your terms.”

All that really belongs to us is time; even he who has nothing else has that.

—Baltasar Gracian

We walked side by side.  His arms swung easily, even at our slow pace.  My arms felt like tentacles, and I didn’t know what to do with them, so I hooked my left thumb in my pocket, and my right hand held the camera case against my hip.  I imagined I looked like a gunslinger, ready to draw.

The silence was comfortable, and our pace was relaxed, but even so, there was still that discernable electricity.  The feel of it reminded me of something.  I saw one of those plasma lamps once.  It was in the shape of a crystal ball, with multi-colored currents, and when you put your fingers on the glass, the light would follow where you touched.  You could even feel your fingertips tingle. 
He
was like that ball, and I was like the fingers, touching the glass.

My house was in sight now, so I picked up my pace a little.  He did the same, and stayed right in step.  Instead of going through the front gate and to the door, like most people would, I turned down the driveway, toward the side door and the kitchen.  I unlocked the door.

“You can go back there and wait on the swing if you want.  You have two choices: lemonade or ice water.”

“Lemonade sounds delicious, if it’s no trouble.”  He replied.

“No problem.  Make yourself at home and I’ll be right back.”

I hurried through the door, got out two of our best glasses, and filled them with lemonade.  I rubbed my face with my fingers, around my nose, chin, and across my cheeks, hoping my face didn’t look too shiny.  I washed my hands in the sink, picked up the two glasses, and took them out the door.  I was trying not to think too much.

He was sitting on the porch swing.  It was shady and breezy on the back porch.  The roof provided solid shade, but the backyard also had several huge trees that kept it very cool.  The sunlight danced through the leaves, creating designs on the lush grass.  It was picturesque.

I extended a glass of lemonade, which he took gratefully.  He moved to one end of the swing, making room for me to sit.  He took a long drink from his glass as soon as I sat down.  “Delicious.”  He complemented.

I took a drink of mine, looking out into the backyard shadows over the rim of the glass.  It
was
delicious.  Of course, I was very thirsty, so that could have something to do with it.  I was glad I picked large glasses.

“So, do you like antiques, or do you just work there because your dad owns the store?”  He asked.

“I
love
them!  I love everything old.  I love the music, the furniture, the houses, and the history.” 

He smiled a huge smile.  “It seems we have a lot in common then, miss Jessie.”

“Jessie.”  I corrected.

“
Jessie
.”  He repeated, in that same breathy voice he had used earlier saying his own name.  It sent shivers down my neck, but not bad ones.  “So, Jessie, what is your real name?”  He asked.  “Your given name—I’m willing to bet it’s not Jessie.”

“You would be correct, and I’d rather not say.”  I took another drink of lemonade.

“I can find out.  Either you can tell me now, or I will ask someone who will tell me.  I’d rather
you
tell me, though.”

“Only if you won’t laugh.”  I didn’t want to tell him.

“I won’t, I promise.”

“It’s
Jessamine
.”  I said the name with obvious distaste.  “My mom had a thing about old things, too.  Including names.”

“
Jessamine
—it’s a lovely name.”  It
was
, the way
he
said it.  “I suppose I’m never allowed to call you that, though.”

“Not unless you want a smack up-side the head.”  I grinned.

“I’ll stick with Jessie, then.”  He was reaching into the pocket of his shorts.  He pulled out a black cloth and un-wrapped a spherical metal object on a chain.  “Since you like old things, I have something to show you.”

He held it up.  It reminded me of a pomander, but it wasn’t.  I had no idea what it could be, and had never seen anything like it.  It was only about two inches in diameter, and I could hear it making a ticking sound, so I had to assume it was a watch.  It appeared to be gold-plated, with intricate engravings all around.  The top had cutout portions, and the bottom had three feet so that it would not roll.

As I looked closer, I could see through the cutout portions of the lid.  There was a clock-face below.  Gabriel released the latch and opened it for me to see.  Where the edges had worn, I would guess the metal to be copper, though the inside looked silver-plated.  The face was simple, and there was only an hour hand.  It looked incredibly old.

“May I touch it?”  I asked.

“Of course.”  He started to hand it to me.

“
You
hold it; I just want to touch it.”  I was not about to take any chances causing damage.  If I were guessing, I would guess it was irreplaceable.

“I trust you with it.”  He said.

“Maybe so, but I don’t.”

He cupped the watch in the palm of his hand and held it out.  I scooted closer and carefully reached out to touch it.  The person I saw looked like I would imagine Robin Hood would have—especially the hat.  The clothing was odd, and I could hear someone speaking in the background.  It sounded—German? 

It was one of the clearest glimpses I ever had.  I could even smell sweat, and there was a musty odor.  All the sounds were odd, and I could hear clocks. 
Many
clocks.  I removed my hand; to sit there any longer would have looked strange.

“How old is that watch?”  I wasn’t sure I wanted to know.

“About five hundred years.”  He waited to see my response.

“Five
hundred
?”  I looked at him, incredulous.  “It can’t possibly be that old.”  But for some reason, I thought he might be telling the truth.

“I can assure you, it is.  It has been in my family from the time of its creation.”  He spoke with certainty, and I believed him.

“Is it German?”  I asked.