The Christmas Eve Letter: A Time Travel Novel (8 page)

Was that truly why she was here?  Maybe, or maybe it was because of her fear:  her fear of that damned lantern and the experience she’d had the night before.  If so, she had to overcome it.  She was stubborn enough not to be bullied or frightened by some over-imagined event or by some ridiculous occult incident, whatever it was.  No way.  She’d face it and walk through it.  That was her nature, or so she believed.  It was what her parents had always said about her.

Okay, fine then.  It was time to repeat the events of last night—again, a simple scientific experiment.  Eve was going to light the lantern just as she’d done when she’d been alone in her apartment.  But this time, she wouldn’t be alone.  She’d be around people in Central Park.  If something weird happened, people would notice.  They would corroborate the event.  They would help document the experiment, and these would be people she didn’t know and had never met.  All the better. 

When Eve reached for the lantern, she felt her heart pulsing in her throat.  She lifted it from the plastic bag, anchored the bag with her cell phone and purse to keep the bag from sailing away on the wind, and then she set the lantern down to her left, beside her.  A handsome man in a blue parka glanced her way, intrigued by the lantern, but he kept walking and, once he’d passed, he didn’t look back. 

Eve reached into her pocket for the book of matches and took in another sharp breath, suddenly feeling her body temperature rise.  Really?  Was she really
that
nervous?

She opened the glass pane and struck a match, cupping the trembling match flame in her hand to protect it from the breeze.  She hesitated, swallowed away a half lump in her throat and lit the wick.  The lantern filled with warm, golden light.

Eve lowered the glass pane and stared into the soft, scintillating light.  It comforted her, soothed her, and drew her deeply into the blue-fringed, rich, quivering flame.  A man on roller skates bobbed and danced and then whisked by, waving at her as he meandered away.  But Eve didn’t notice him.  She was mesmerized by the light, bewitched by the light, immersed in the light.  She put her hand in her pocket to pull out the letter, but she was too entranced by the light, and when nothing happened, she began to relax.  She grew lethargic and sleepy.  Her eyes fluttered, opened wide, fluttered again and closed. 

It seemed minutes passed before she opened them.  When she blinked, her eyes were stuck closed, as if glued.  With an effort, she forced them open.  To her astonishment, she saw strange multicolored lights dappling her vision, like carnival lights or whirling Christmas lights.  A puff of wind blew the hood from her head and, on impulse, she reached for it, but her arms felt heavy and slow and the hood seemed miles away.  She saw her hands moving in a blur, in confused motion. 

Someone was standing over her.  It was a man, an out-of-focus man, staring at her with concern.  He spoke.  His words came out slow and garbled.  Eve couldn’t understand a word.  His voice was a grumble that reminded Eve of a bowling ball thundering down the alley toward the pins.  And then he just melted away and disappeared.

Eve felt the bench move and jump.  It began a slow, wobbling motion—up left, down right—bang.  Hard.  Eve grabbed hold, her knuckles white, eyes round with fear. The bench vibrated and shook, then began to spin violently.  Eve was pitched about, as if she were on a thrill ride at an amusement park.  She held on to the bench tightly with both her hands, trying to anchor herself, her eyes shifting, searching for help, her heart thumping wildly.  She tried to cry out for help but she couldn’t find her voice. 

When a yellow smoky fog blew in and enveloped her, Eve was completely disoriented and dizzy.  She shook her head, blinked her eyes and glanced about in desperation. 

She didn’t know if she was upright, sideways or on her back, but she released her hands and reached up, feeling like some helpless turtle.  She felt that pit-of-the-stomach sensation of plunging down and rising up, drifting, drowning in misty fog.  She must be dying.  Leaving her body.  Again she tried to force out a scream, but it was only the hollow wheeze of a frightened child.

She heard distant voices, but she didn’t see anything except boiling fog whipping around her, scattering leaves, snow and loose pages of a newspaper.  The sharp wind tossed her about like a rag doll.  She threw up her hands to protect her face, as the wind swept in harshly, making rattling sounds, moaning sounds.  All she could do was surrender, let herself go, a quivering twig being hurtled down a raging stream into the freezing darkness, being tossed into a spiraling abyss.

CHAPTER 7

He looked long and steadily at her.  Eve stared back, dazed, frightened, struggling to focus on the blurred face that loomed out of a smoky fog.  He had tawny red-gold hair and a waxed mustache that gleamed in the glow of the park light.  He wore an ankle length overcoat with a brown fur collar, a golden silk scarf and a large diamond ring on his pinky finger.  He had a good, lean jaw, a handsome face and rich, sharp eyes that were studying her peculiarly. 

“Madam, are you in need of assistance?  Are you in distress?”

Eve blinked around, trying to orient herself, struggling to catch a breath.  She saw a halo around the park lights; saw people strolling past; noticed a light snow was falling.  She felt drugged and disoriented, as if she’d taken a sleeping pill and was trying to wake up. 

Something wasn’t right or something was different or something had changed; the sounds, the air, the light.  Everything was different somehow, but Eve was too blunted and dazed to understand exactly what. 

She was still sitting on the park bench and it was snowing, but there was a deeper quality to the silence, the park lights were a rich amber, and the people who passed wore clothes that were heavy-looking, long and dark.  She watched men amble by, men with beards and mustaches and top hats and tuffs of hair growing on their heavy jowls.

“Madam?” the man, repeated.  “Can I be of any help to you?”

Eve struggled to come out of her dozing dream, at least that’s what it felt like.  She swallowed and tried to speak.  Nothing came.  She tried again.  “I’m…I’m… Okay.  I’m…” her voice faded into a cold wind.

“Are you quite sure?” he said, his voice low and formal.  Eve speculated that he was over thirty.  She couldn’t place his accent.  New England?  British?

Her blue eyes were startled and uncertain.  She became aware of many curious stares as people strolled past.  Some paused mid-stride and stared at her, while others hurried away as she stared back at them, their eyes enlarging on her and then dropping away.

Eve tried for dignity, straightening, raking a strand of hair from her forehead.  She ventured another look at the man.  He, too, was staring at her in a strange way.

She slowly found her voice.  “Yes, I’m sure.  I just… Well, I just don’t feel so good.”

And then she heard it.  The rhythmic trot of a horse’s hooves.  She saw a dark carriage loom out of the snowfall from her left.  It glided by and moved off right into the hazy depth of the park. 

Eve had never seen a carriage like that in the park.  At least not in this section of the park.  She’d seen carriages in the park and she had even ridden in one, but this particular carriage seemed different.  It was larger, and it was being drawn by two raven-black horses, lit by side lanterns.

“Can I drop you somewhere?” the man said.  “My carriage isn’t far.”

Eve’s head lifted.  “Your carriage?”

And then she saw the high crowned derby he held in his hand.  He’d taken it off when he’d approached her, a real gentleman.  He placed it on his head.  “Yes.  I have a carriage close by.”  He indicated to his left.  “I will be happy to drop you wherever you wish.”

Eve took in his face, appraising it.  She had the odd feeling she’d seen it before.  There was something familiar about it.  It was an attractive face, with full sensual lips, high cheekbones and lively, interesting eyes.

“I… don’t know.  I mean…”  Eve struggled to put two words together.  She was still confused, her thoughts tangled.  “I can get a cab.”

A sharp thought struck and she whipped her head right.  She felt for her purse.  It wasn’t there!  She jerked about looking for it, feeling for it.  It was gone!  The lantern was gone too, and her cell phone and the plastic bag she’d placed it on.  All were gone! 

“Is something wrong?” the man asked.

“My purse!” Eve said, with panic rising in her voice.  “My purse is gone.  My cell phone is gone.”

The man lifted an eyebrow.  “Your cell… phone?”

Eve shot up, turning her back to him as she frantically searched underneath the bench, behind the bench and around the bench. 

“Yes, my cell phone.  My purse and my cell phone are both gone!  Dammit!”

She turned to face him, her eyes moving.  Her mind reeled and she fought to orient herself.  She touched her head to steady it and shut her eyes, struggling to think one clear thought, but everything was spinning and she couldn’t grab one coherent thought.  She stood on the edge of raw panic.

After another thorough search of the area, Eve stood before the bench in defeat and confusion.  The man was staring at her, blinking.  Resigned, her shoulders slumped.  Someone must have taken them when that storm struck—when that fog moved in.  When whatever had happened, happened.

Fighting alarm, she wrapped herself with her arms, searching the night for help.  For answers.  Everyone who passed turned to stare at her.  What was the matter with these people?  Why were they looking at her?  They were all dressed so somberly, in black, men wearing black hats, women in long dresses, brushing the ground.  Eve struggled to think, to construct a sentence to explain how she felt.  Her brain was a mass of jumbled wires.  She shut her eyes again, as if to shut out the world.  She inhaled two deep breaths.  When she opened her eyes, the man was still there, trying to smile, but it was more of a twitch.

Another carriage came into view, and then another, snow now falling more heavily, swirling, glazing the trees and the benches, sparkling under the park lights.  She felt weak and unsteady.  What the hell had happened?  What was going on?  She turned her eyes on the man, suddenly feeling cold, hungry and completely lost.

“I want to go home,” she said, feeling desperate now.  “Can you take me home?”

“Yes, of course.  Very well, then.  I will ensure you arrive safely.”

He indicated again toward a walkway.  “Shall we?”

He started, and when she didn’t move, he turned, waiting for her.  Eve took a few hesitant steps, walking slightly behind him, down a winding dirt and gravel path she’d never taken and didn’t know existed.  She remained watchful and cautious, passing the man sideways glances.  He was too well dressed to be a mugger or a thief.  His coat was luxurious cashmere, his boots a rich, glossy leather, his demeanor, one of class and comfortable wealth.  Old school wealth.

The temperature must have dropped 10 degrees and Eve’s teeth began to chatter, her feet felt like icicles.  Her raincoat was no match for this cold.  She pushed her hands deep into her coat pockets and continued on until they came to a carriage path, again, one she didn’t recall ever seeing. 

As Eve listened to their footsteps scratch across the path, she became aware of the eerie silence.  It was unnerving.  And there were distant sounds that were unfamiliar to her in a city she’d lived in for eight years.  This whole experience was giving her the creeps.

“We are almost there,” the man said.

Eve just wanted to go home, take a hot shower, eat something and go straight to bed.

She watched the man puff on a cigar as he moved in an easy, stately manner, as if he were some lord of the manor, some costumed actor right out of one of those 19
^th
century Masterpiece Theatre episodes.

When Eve saw the man’s carriage, she stopped short.  Under the park lights, it looked sleek and stylish, like something from another century.  It was an enclosed carriage, with a black enameled sheen, hard top roof, glowing side lamps and glass windows.  Two sleek horses, one chestnut and one midnight black, stood waiting, white vapor puffing from their nostrils.  One horse pawed at the ground, as if restless.  An elegant coachman sat perched and waiting, wearing a top hat, dark uniform and royal blue cape, reins and whip in his gloved hands.

The man stopped and turned to her.  “Is anything the matter?”

Eve didn’t know where to begin.  What wasn’t the matter?  Everything was the matter.  Why would they take a carriage through the park?  Why not just hail a cab?

Eve drew herself up.  “Why don’t we just grab a cab?”

He lowered his eyes on her.  “I think you will find my carriage is much more comfortable, madam.”

Madam?  Eve didn’t know what to say.  Her mind was still filled with cotton.  She felt shaky and fragile, as if she could easily fall and break into a thousand pieces.  She just wanted to get home as fast as possible.

“Okay, fine,” she said, turning from him.  “Fine.  Let’s take your carriage.”

The coachman stepped down and was waiting with an open door when Eve approached.  She glanced at the stoic coachman and he gave her a little bow.  He took her hand and helped her inside.  She sat on a soft leather seat and slid over when the man entered and sat beside her. 

The carriage door closed and Eve tensed up, feeling scared and nauseous.  She saw a hand warmer muff beside her.  She reached for it and inserted her hands inside.  It was all fur, soft and warm.

When the carriage lurched forward and gained some speed, she flinched.  She heard the faint jingle of harness and the clop of horses’ hooves.  She smelled the man’s sandalwood cologne and noticed the soft cushiony leather as she settled in the seat.  Eve felt the man’s eyes on her and she stole a quick glance at him.

“Where to?” he asked.

“Oh… yes.  I live on West 107
^th
Street between Broadway and Riverside.”

The man looked her over and for a long moment they stared at each other.  “Are you sure?”