Marian couldn’t blame Ellen for her confusion. She would have been just as skeptical if their roles had been reversed and if she hadn’t experienced the time crossing for herself. “You were delayed in getting the ampulla out on day fourteen. How did you finally manage to get it without being caught or attacked?”
Harrison held Ellen’s hand only a moment longer before releasing it. “A genius plan, if I may say so myself.” He relayed how he remembered that tunnels existed under Canterbury, a network of passageways that had been developed as early as the Roman era but then strengthened during World War II as part of the preparation for a possible German invasion. After several days of researching, he located a tunnel that connected St. Thomas Catholic Church to the cathedral.
Although he had to bargain and bribe, Harrison gained permission from the church to clear out and reinforce the tunnel, in exchange for hiring workers to do long overdue repairs of St. Thomas Church’s interior as well as within the cemetery and external grounds. Lionel Inc.’s men watched and catalogued every move of the repairs but didn’t discover the tunnel connection until it was too late.
“I paid one of the cathedral security to unlock the tunnel door within the crypt. When the tunnel was repaired enough to traverse, Drake made his way into the crypt while Ellen and I pretended to be fascinated with something in the cemetery.”
Marian smiled. “Your plan was genius.”
“That’s because Harrison is a genius.” Ellen reached over this time and grasped Harrison’s hand.
Harrison ducked his head, but not before revealing his pleasure. At Ellen’s praise or her touch?
Ellen grasped Harrison’s hand more firmly.
Marian studied Ellen’s face, searching for a flicker of some kind of romantic interest that her sister harbored toward Harrison, but she didn’t see anything that hinted at more.
Even so, Ellen continued to hold Harrison’s hand. “I added the droplets from the ampulla to your IV fluids, and then we waited and waited and waited. It was excruciating, wasn’t it?”
Harrison nodded. “You can imagine how relieved we were that it worked. But . . . the question is: Why aren’t you relieved?”
Marian wanted to be honest, but what could she say? That she wished they hadn’t brought her back? She leaned her head against the raised bed and soft mound of pillows, expelling a sigh. “It’s complicated.”
Ellen curled her long legs up under her in the deep cushioned chair, getting comfortable. “We’ve got all the time in the world.”
“Do we? While a comatose body in the present can live indefinitely, a comatose body in 1381 won’t last long, not without modern technology to help sustain life.”
Harrison’s brow furrowed. “I pondered the dilemma before we gave you the holy water to revive you. But since we don’t know the repercussions, I decided we had to take the risk. There’s the very good chance you’ll recover.”
“But Dad’s list of speculations indicates there’s the possibility I won’t. Look what happened to Dad.”
“Arthur was still comatose and technically in the past. But you’ve returned and are fully healthy. I’m sure that will make a difference.”
“Other than a few records of people having visions, have you ever considered why there aren’t any historical accounts of people claiming to cross the time continuum? What if those who did, like Dad, never revived from their comas to talk about their experiences? Or if they returned, maybe they didn’t live long enough to write down what happened.”
“Let’s hope that’s not the case for you.”
After only a few hours of wakefulness, she was feeling stronger and more alert. It wouldn’t be long before she would be able to get out of bed and resume her life. What if she wouldn’t need that extra dose of holy water to live after all? She could only pray Harrison was right and that she’d be fine.
But would she ever be fine again? How could she continue on as though nothing had happened to her? How could she simply pick up where she’d left off? Without Will? She wasn’t sure she could.
And what should she do next regarding the miracle cure? Now that she knew the possible location of the spring, could she sit back and do nothing while Ellen wasted away from cancerous tumors?
As though sensing her inner turmoil, Ellen leaned forward and reached for her hand, finally releasing her hold of Harrison. “Please don’t worry, Marian.”
She tried for a smile. “It’s my job to worry about you, Ellen.”
It had been her job for so long that she didn’t know what else to do with her life. Finding the cure had consumed her. It had been why Dad had risked everything and why she had too. After all he’d sacrificed to test his theories, she couldn’t let his life’s work die with him.
And yet how could she go on when she’d left her heart behind with Will?
Overwhelming longing flowed through her veins, constricting her passageways with the need for Will every bit as much as her need for oxygen. By now he would realize she was unresponsive and not waking up. She hated to think of his turmoil, how he might even be blaming himself for what had happened to her.
Harrison’s expression turned somber. “What about it? Are your thoughts in order enough to tell us what happened? I, for one, am keen to hear your experiences.”
Did she want to tell them? How could she explain all she’d lived through, especially the part about getting married? If she was married in the past, was she technically still married now? She guessed it didn’t matter. If she lived, she couldn’t imagine ever wanting to marry anyone else anyway. She’d never forget about Will. And she’d never be able to love another man the same way she’d loved him.
She placed her mug on the bedside table, took a deep breath, and then started her tale. “You’ll find this hard to believe, but I’m officially married to William Durham, the grandson of the man who built Chesterfield Park.”
~ 28 ~
“IT’S HERE IN THIS GENERAL AREA.” Marian stood in a large closet at the end of the spacious hallway room. “I believe this was once an antechamber. And if so, the vault would exist beneath it.”
“If it wasn’t completely filled in.” Harrison powered his wheelchair through the doorway.
Extra extension cords hung coiled on the wall. The shelves were crowded with packages of light bulbs, batteries, paper towels, paint cans, empty plant pots, and a fire extinguisher. Marian tried to picture the antechamber the day she’d taught Robert and Phillip to play hide-and-seek, the simple room with a desk, chair, and the tapestry on the wall concealing the stairway that led to the vault.
Will had lured her to the stairway landing where he’d been waiting to kiss her. And boy, had he kissed her. At the remembrance, a sweet ache lodged in her chest.
Harrison raised his flashlight and examined the walls carefully.
Marian crossed her arms over her aching heart, as if that could hold at bay thoughts of Will. After three days in the present, she hadn’t stopped thinking about him. If anything, her mind turned to him more often, picturing him in the manor, guessing what he was doing, imagining him carrying on his life without her.
Thankfully, Harrison hadn’t ridiculed anything she’d revealed about her stay in 1381. He’d seemed to accept her crossing through time as though it had truly happened, unlike Ellen, who’d shaken her head at Marian’s stories and told her she’d hallucinated, that everything she’d experienced had been a coma-induced dream state.