Ancient Ties (30 page)

Her heart drummed loudly in her chest. “I love you, too.”

He leaned back and removed the gold cuff bracelet from his wrist. Bouncing it as if weighing it, he said, “I want you to have this. It belonged to my father”

Janney gasped and started to shake her head. “Oh, no, Marek. I can’t take that. It belongs to your son.”

Marek took her hand and placed the cuff in her palm.

It was warm from his skin.

“I want you to keep it until I come back.” They both stared at the bracelet. Then he opened the clasp and slid it on her arm.

Heavy and too wide for her wrist, he pushed it up to just below her elbow. “There. It’s perfect.”

Tears rolled down her cheeks. “It’s so beautiful. Thank you, my love. I’ll save it for your son, for Leonidas.”
Dammit, I’m
crying.
“I love you.”

Marek kissed a tear that had landed at the side of her lips. “I have to leave in a few hours. Come lie with me.”

Janney loved his husky, sexy voice. Would she ever hear it again after tonight?

“Leave him.”

The deep, commanding voice murmured in Janney’s ear. It came from far away. As she struggled to wake, the words became louder.

“I will take you home.”

Home.

“Come with me. I will show you the way home.”

No.
Janney snuggled her back into Marek’s front.
I don’t
want to go.

“Your mother needs you.” The disembodied voice sounded petulant.

Mother?
The guilt and worry that Janney usually kept at bay slammed into her.

“I can take you to her. She needs you. She does not have anyone else.”

Janney slid very slowly, very quietly out from under Marek’s arm. It was odd that he didn’t wake; he was normally a light sleeper. Finally off the bed, she stood above him. She’d awakened with an overwhelming compulsion to go home. It was time. She couldn’t stay here. This wasn’t her life; it was Marek’s. Janney had her own life and responsibilities in the Twenty-first Century.

“Yes. Come with me. I will take you home to your young scholars.”

Janney slipped her tunic over her head, crept to the door.

She turned for one final look at Marek, tears rolling down her cheeks.

“Come. Do not look back. You do not belong here. You must go home. Marek is a soldier and will always be a soldier.

He must be free to go into battle.”

Janney, with trembling hands, unlatched the door. Bright moonlight filtered in. Marek snuffle-snored and reached out pulling a head cushion into his empty arms.

“Do not look back.”

The voice in her head, directing her actions, seemed so reasonable. If you have to leave someone, it’s better to go quickly with no looking back. Marek looked so sweet and sexy lying there. Look, he hugged the pillow already missing her.

What would he do when he woke up and she wasn’t there?

“Marek has his duty. And you have a duty to your mother and your students.”

Outside Marek’s room, Janney’s gaze rose. The moon was full, the sky studded with stars. She had no trouble making her way through the villa; the light bright. The deep, seductive words melted through her brain. Half awake—half asleep, Janney thought it was her conscience talking. The need to go home grew every minute. Marek would be gone soon. She didn’t think she could bear to watch him go. It would be better to leave first. Better for both of them. She would just slip away in the dark.

That’s if the portal is open.

“The portal will open. I will take you there. You must go home.”

Janney ran quickly to her old room to hunt up the jeans, T-shirt, and gym shoes she’d worn when she came back in time.

The only things from this time that she took were the necklace and cuff that Marek had given her. She slipped back out of her room, caressing the gold links around her neck.

“I have to go home,” Janney muttered quietly as she slipped through the peristyle. “I am going home,” she whispered more

forcefully. She felt like Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz. There is no place like home. The voice in her head told her so.

Sick with jumping nerves, Janney crept through the arches, past the shrine to the household gods, past the fountain she’d seen when she first entered the villa. She didn’t wonder if the portal was open. She knew it would be. Knew it.

One more door to go through. Her hand shook as she pulled at the latch and opened the front door. Barely able to breathe, the pulse in her throat pounding, Janney stepped over the threshold. She put her hand out to brace her trembling body on the doorjamb and took a deep breath. Gazing back one last time at the beautiful fountain and a bronze statuette of Concordia, she prayed that her actions would one day grant her the harmony and accord that the figure represented. Then a quick look around the quiet outer courtyard to assure herself that no one watched.

Open for me.
She recited it like a prayer.
Open for me.

Her gaze finally lit on the space where the portal should be.

She held her breath, biting down hard on her lower lip.

A soft nighttime breeze lifted her hair. It had grown long until it was full and romantic looking.

This is crazy. I’m crazy.

She stretched out her hand as if to command the portal to appear, and blinked back tears.
Dammit, don’t cry. Mom, I’m
coming home.

The wall shimmered. Or was it tears? A door appeared, wavy and indistinct. At first. A low moan slipped past her lips.

She couldn’t take her eyes off the shape forming.

Oh, God, it’s really there. The portal’s opening.

Her feet wouldn’t move. As frightened of going through, as she was of the portal closing before she could step through, Janney froze in place.

“Goodbye, Marek, my love,” she whispered in an anguished moan.

“Go.” The voice in her head sounded a bit testy.

She knew what she had to do. Knew her duty. The portal was there.

I’m going.
Janney unconsciously responded just as testily.

“I’m going,” she said out loud.

The portal drew her forward. It was the strangest sensation.

Her feet didn’t feel the ground; her leg muscles weren’t working except to hold her upright. Nevertheless, Janney moved closer to the now distinct doorway. It seemed to be open only a sliver, but the light beyond was blindingly bright.

As she was swept closer, the doorway yawned wider. Her mind knew it was moonlit dark on her side and full daylight on the other. She didn’t understand how that could be. Trees, grass, sunshine. Sheep. She saw it all clearly on the other side.

Janney realized suddenly that she was at the door. One step more and she’d be through. The darkness on her side blanketed her with a sort of safe captivity. On the other side—in the light—was her real life.

Marek had been real. His villa had been real. Of course, they were real. Lightheaded, she wished she could catch her breath, the flutters in her heart frightening her.

I want to stay.

The thought overwhelmed her. She almost turned back.

No. I can’t do that to my mother. I have to go home. She’s
probably already frantic.

Janney had no idea how long she’d really been away from the Twenty-first Century. She placed one foot on the threshold.

The sunlight on the other side of the portal blinded her.

Disorienting. Confusing.

Marek.
Her moan sounded loudly, she could hear it even over the thump of her heartbeat in her ears. She prayed she’d remember this place, the adventure and romance of it all.

Remember the man. “I love you forever.” No one would ever love her like he did. Does.

Janney felt a pressure on her back, almost like a splayed palm. Pushing her. She resisted for a second, but it definitely felt as if a hand pushed her through the portal. She had glanced

around her as she’d stolen through the villa. No one else was around.

Shading her eyes against the brightness, Janney was thrown off balance into the grass on the other side. That definitely was a shove! Stumbling, catching herself before she fell, she looked back over her shoulder.

The wall was blank. Old stone. Solid stone.

Mt. Olympus

Mars victoriously swiped his palms together as if brushing off a nasty substance. “It does not matter if Venus finds out what I did. I am the God of War! I will prevail! Marek will now attend to his duty without the distraction of the woman. The woman will not recall any of what happened to her in this time. Even if she suspects me, my dear Venus will never be sure what happened.

“It does not matter because I am Mars. The God of War. I, too, can move people from one time in history to another.”

Mars’ triumphant laughter rolled out through the ancient heavens.

An earth-bound Marek heard the distant booming thunder even in the deep sleep Mars had mesmerized him into. He pulled the pillow closer into his embrace.

Mission River, Iowa

September, 2003

It was a good thing Janney had been teaching third grade for thirteen years. She felt like she was on autopilot, and that was good because concentration wasn’t her long suit at the moment.

After returning from her vacation in England, and as the summer finished up, she had to get her classroom ready to start school.

There were lesson plans to formulate and supplies to load up on.

Functioning by rote during the daylight hours, at night her dreams were invaded by a rich, complex story in which she was the central character.

The man in the story was a mystery, his face a hazy shadow.

She knew he was her lover because in her dreams, they made wild, passionate love and she always woke hot, sweaty, and horny. Coming out of her sleep she would hear herself moaning, she could almost feel the sensation of lips and hands roaming her body just as surely as if someone was in bed with her.

There was no one. When the realization hit her that she was alone, she would curl up in a ball and cry out her confusion and frustration. Especially, her sexual frustration.

The day before she’d returned to the States, Janney remembered awakening lying in the grass, with birds singing above her in the trees. Why she’d been napping on the bare ground in the middle of the day, she had no idea. Opening her eyes to a clear, blue sky and then to an odd sound, she’d turned her head slowly. A big, wooly sheep with a metal clip in its ear chomped nearby. She had sat up quickly. Dizzy, she’d lain down

again. A breeze rippled through, fanning her hair. She hadn’t wanted to move from her soft, comfortable nest. What had happened? She’d no idea why she would be lying in the grass, dizzy and confused. She’d been exhausted. If she’d been taking a nap, it sure hadn’t refreshed her.

A glance at her watch said it was seven o’clock. Seven at night? Where had the day gone? She’d climbed stiffly to her feet and surveyed the ruins. With an eerie sense of déjà vu, she searched around the stone wall until she could find an opening into the villa. The plaster and tiles were all crumbling and dusty, just as she had expected them to be.

When she’d strode through the peristyle, her imagination envisioned it lush with trees, plants, and flowers in ordered beds with benches placed in shady spots. But it had been overgrown, lonely, the fountain dry and parched looking. As if she’d known where she was going, she prowled through the atrium and into rooms. Even amongst the ruins, she could visualize fine furniture, rich cloths covering beds, wall paintings, brass and porcelain bowls and pitchers. Rather proud of her powers of imagination, she had let them roam free to replace worn and monotonously-colored stone with rich, vivid colors and materials.

Even odder had been the antique looking pieces of jewelry she wore. She must have bought them in a souvenir shop, though she didn’t quite recall doing it. Where else could they have come from? The chain around her neck was delicate, but the bracelet was thick and heavy. It felt warm on her arm. They looked pretty good for costume.

By the time she was back home in Mission River, Iowa, the memory of the last part of her trip became more elusive. Now all she wanted to do was sleep. Her dreams covered what seemed like familiar territory. They were like a movie. An exciting movie about a man, a sword fight. A love affair.

Janney had lost a lot of weight after the divorce but now her waist and thighs felt firmly muscled. What had she done to warrant this change in her body? So many mysteries.

“Dear, what happened on your trip?” Her mother obviously noticed her distraction and lethargy. “You’ve hardly spoken about it. Didn’t you take pictures? Did you have a good time?

You’ve been so quiet.” Georgia Forrester rattled off questions as they were shopping one day.

“Oh, have I?” Janney said, wishing she could distract her.

She didn’t want to talk about the trip. Something happened.

Something she didn’t understand. All she knew was that these vivid dreams plagued her every night. If she talked about them, people would think she was crazy and threaten to commit her.

Some part of her didn’t want to share them. Some memories…dreams…seemed too precious.

“I had a fine time. I saw lots. I’m just tired now. I guess I did a lot more walking than I realized.”

When Janney started hearing the man’s voice in her dreams and put it together with a name, Marek, she decided it was time to see a therapist. Dora Standish, a woman in her mid to late forties, was short and petite. Thick, brown streaked with blonde hair seemed bigger than she was and overwhelmed a tiny, angular face, with eyes that took in everything.

“I think I might be going crazy.”

“What makes you think so, Janney?”

“I’ve been kind of fantasizing a lot lately. I guess, dreaming.

Umm…well…fantasizing.” She might as well be honest. She was here for help.

“About what?”