A Leap in Time (5 page)

I decided to tell her right away. I had no doubt she knew more than she’d said. And I wouldn’t leave her apartment until she told me something…anything. At the very least, she’d be an extra set of hands with the research.

Pulling my hair into a low ponytail, I slipped on my flip-flops and traipsed downstairs. I’d barely knocked on her door when it swung open, startling me. That woman was always on high alert.
Geez!

I have to admit that sometimes she gave me the creeps even though she was kind, sweet and always had good intentions. She sometimes seemed to teeter between psychic, eccentric, and at times, completely out there. “Lexi, this is a nice surprise.” She stood aside for me to go in.

“How was your weekend?” I tried to sound casual, hoping the tenor in my voice didn’t give away my nervousness.

“It was fine, but nothing as exciting as yours.” She took a seat on the couch, patting the cushion next to her.

Was she hinting at what I think she was?

“Ah…what do you mean?” I hoped to sound nonchalant.

“Well, I know your girlfriends were here and you always have a wonderful time together.” Her words were innocent enough, but…she knew something.

I didn’t know whether to curse under my breath or run for the hills. “Ah hmmm…well…” I got right to the point. “I actually came down here to talk to you about the painting. The one of Pompeii.” I didn’t want to waste all afternoon playing mind games.

“Yes.”

She beamed so brightly I was convinced she already knew exactly what I was about to tell her. Damn, is there anything she doesn’t know?

“Okay…strange things have been happening in my apartment—since I got the painting. I finally plucked up the courage to confront it.” I leaned forward in the chair, elbows on my knees. “And I was transported to ancient Pompeii.” When she didn’t react, other than a slight twitch to her eyebrows, I added, “I basically, er, time traveled through my painting.” I let the last sentence hang between us.

“That sounds amazing, Lexi. It’s an absolute privilege when you’re chosen to experience something most people can only read about. I hope you know that purchasing the painting was no coincidence. It was meant for you.”

Damn, I was right. My news wasn’t the slightest surprise. More surprising though—she sounded familiar with time travel.

“How did you know and why didn’t you tell me?” I couldn’t hide my frustration. Telling me about the painting would have saved me a week of sleepless nights.

“You needed to discover it on your own, plus the painting needed to establish a trust level with you. These things don’t reveal themselves to everyone, you know.

My frustration was subsiding. I had to keep it at bay if I was actually going to learn anything from Mrs. Ashton.

“Lexi, very few people are chosen to time travel. You were destined to see Pompeii during its glory days. It was the ultimate vacation spot of its day. Only the rich and socially elite vacationed there because it was so close to the ocean. And with all the disaster that befell the city, it’s even more of an honor to be chosen.”

“How did you know the painting was enchanted? And what did you mean that it needed to establish trust with me? Was there a chance it wouldn’t reveal itself to me?”

“Well, yes…a select group of painters from that era cracked the code for time traveling. They were almost a cult and very secretive. They used special fabrics, oils and rituals to enchant the paintings. Some believed that if the painting was completed by a full moon, the first morning dawn would cast an enchantment on the painting.” She shrugged. “Others believed it was the strokes of the brushes the painter used that beckoned the painting to come alive. The one common thread across all the paintings was that they had contrasting finishes depending on the angle you’re looking at…beautiful sunny day versus a gloomy fall day. That’s how I knew it was enchanted. And yes, there was a chance that even though you were the painter’s keeper, the painting still wouldn’t reveal itself to you.”

“I noticed the color contrast in the painting, but didn’t think too much of it. It was one of the things that drew me to it. That and the beautiful, serene countryside. So, how many paintings are out there?”

“I’m not sure, but I’ve heard there are portals to almost thirty countries.” She looked at me calmly as if deciding whether to say more.

“How many portals have you been through?”

Chapter Six

“Ireland, New Zealand, England, and Peru,” Mrs. Ashton said, as if she was reciting a recipe. “While shopping at an art exhibit in downtown Los Angeles my husband and I discovered a painting of New Zealand. We fell in love with the scenery and the lush green landscape. I already felt drawn to it because my first love—you remember me telling you the story.” She smiled. “Once we got home, the painting came alive at dawn just like yours did. With time, we got up the courage to explore it further, just like you. From then on, we were on a mission to collect as many of these precious and rare paintings as we could find. Unfortunately, most of the time we ended up with a replica of the original.”

There was a peacefulness about Mrs. Ashton that I always admired. Hearing her talk about enchanted paintings with such calm authority made me admire her even more.

She excitedly showed me her paintings hanging around her living room. She said she cherished each of them as if they were her own children. She casually mentioned that she still time traveled every once in a while, but not nearly as often as she once did.

“You’ve been accepted into a very special and sacred circle, Lexi. You need to guard this secret and not share it with anyone.” She was almost whispering.

Oops! Too late. This is all I needed—to beckon the wrath of a haunted painting.

“The girls know,” I said.

She must have known I didn’t keep secrets from my two best friends. Besides, I was going out of my damn mind, I had to tell someone.

Mrs. Ashton just looked at me, giving away nothing.

Besides, how was I to know I was the keeper of a universal secret? Had she told me about the painting before this, I would have handled things differently. I didn’t want to point fingers at anyone, but if I had to—it was Mrs. Ashton’s fault…completely.

“Lexi, I know you’re thinking I should have told you about the painting, but I couldn’t. Each one has to choose its keeper, but also choose its traveler. Telling you would have been fruitless if the painting decided against coming alive for you.”

My silence confirmed my understanding and she nodded in acknowledgement.

“Okay, so now what? I know the girls won’t tell anyone. They’re helping me with research so I can go back undetected.” I hoped she’d volunteer her help as well. “Do you think I was selected because I’m fluent in Latin? Would the painting have picked me if I was fluent in French or German?”

Mrs. Ashton’s response was exactly as I expected—the painting chose me because of my spirit and nothing to do with my Latin expertise. Naturally, I wondered whether my initial attraction to the Latin language was somehow orchestrated by the Universe in anticipation of this day. Nah! I couldn’t think like that because that would mean that I had no control over my own decisions or destiny.

Since she was a pro at time traveling, I felt confident she would come up with key information. I hugged her good-bye and headed back to my apartment feeling renewed and in a better state of mind.

I couldn’t stop thinking about our conversation. Every chore I intended to do before bed was forgotten as I sat on the couch in bewilderment. I drank a large glass of wine and went straight to bed.

Having a secret project was exhilarating and the week flew by. I found myself bombarded with random real-time events related to Pompeii, like a charity event with Pompeii as the theme with some of the proceeds going to the local museum in Pompeii. They even wanted a mini replica of Vesuvius! The higher powers of the universe were hitting me over the head with continuous signs of my destined adventure. “I hear you, I hear you,” I hissed.

When preliminary artwork for the charity event popped on my desk by accident instead of the creative director’s desk, I threw my hands up in surrender. “Okay, I got it. Thanks for the messages,” I yelled at no one. My co-workers must’ve thought I was nuts, but I didn’t care.

Friday night, I arrived at Crazy Fish Sushi a little early to grab us a table instead of a seat at the bar. The place gets packed quickly; the bar was usually our only option. Most places wouldn’t even seat anyone ‘till everyone in their party had arrived, but being a regular at this heavenly hole in the wall guaranteed some perks.

Charlotte and Kate arrived within minutes of each other. There was a slim possibility I was reading them wrong, but they seemed as giddy as me. We ordered wine and sushi, talking all at once about everything we discovered during our research. I hadn’t misread them, there
were
excited.

I told them about my conversation with Mrs. Ashton and made them promise to never talk about it outside our circle. Naturally, they were bewildered my neighbor knew so much about the subject.

Knowing Mrs. Ashton had been through this journey herself several times, grounded the conversation in a more real scenario. This was no longer a laughing matter. What I had stumbled upon was quite tangible, apparently doable, and very serious business. It was sobering, but we continued to drink wine and chatter, holding onto the blessed ignorance that had made us drunk with giddiness only a few minutes before.

“I know you’re on pins and needles so I won’t torture you.” Charlotte grinned as she thumbed through a stack of papers she’d printed from the internet. Shifting slightly in the chair, she tucked her long hair behind her ears then set to reading the sections highlighted in bright pink. “First things first, cheers to two of my favorite people on earth.” Charlotte raised her glass and smiled.

She toasted us, and then took an exaggerated sip.”I hope you like vacation destinations, Lexi, because apparently Pompeii was the place to be if you lived anywhere north of it.” Charlotte paused for another gulp of wine.

Good God, at the rate she is drinking, she’ll be drunk in no time.

“Let’s just hope you’re nowhere near 79 AD when Vesuvius buried the entire city leaving virtually no survivors. Lexi, are you sure you want to go there? This place sounds like a ticking time bomb.”

Ha, so she was warming up to the idea. I grinned.

“On a lighter note, the city was ahead of its time in some ways. Lucky for you, their water system meant that most people had indoor plumbing and some had access to a bath. Otherwise they used a public bath. My God, Lexi, can you imagine a public bath being your only option?” Charlotte giggled, flipping her shiny hair to the side. “Oh, and brace yourself, they’re known for their extensive erotica.” She blushed shyly from hairline to neck.

Both Kate and I spared her any embarrassing commentary. There was no doubt in my mind that Charlotte was nervous; her frequent wine guzzling settled my suspicions. It also confirmed that underneath the lighthearted joke cracking, she was worried and not necessarily on board with this whole thing. She was putting on a brave smiling front for me, which I appreciated tremendously. I will probe more later, but for now, I kept my thoughts to myself. Kate and I ate while Charlotte talked, scanning her notes every now and again, adding her own funny commentary.

“Impressive, Charlotte. Nice work. I’ve got stuff too.” Kate pushed her plate to the side making more room for her printouts. “The city was known for its lavish lifestyle with one hundred and fifty fast food stalls—so you won’t starve. The local food was diced, pickled and preserved without additives, which I find most interesting.” Kate poked me playfully on the shoulder. I appreciated her good nature about all this.

“You guys are the best. I’ve never been more grateful for the age-old language of Latin.” I smiled. “I did some research too. I looked up Pompeii fashion in case I need to go shopping before my next visit.” My giggle was met with an eye roll from both of them. “Come on, I need to look the part of a distinguished lady of society.” For some reason, that sent us into a fit of giggles causing a few diners to eye us curiously.

The longer we talked the more uneasy we all felt, for our own reasons. Charlotte and Kate because they were petrified of what this meant, and for me because I couldn’t wait to go back. That un-acknowledged fact weighed heavily over our table. I wasn’t oblivious to the risks of the situation. The whole idea of time travel was beyond believable on every level, but how could I turn my back on it? Who was I to refuse such a privilege? And didn’t I owe it to myself to find out why I was chosen?

After dinner, we drove to a costume shop in West Hollywood in the off chance they’d have some tunics, sandals and jewelry. What else would we be doing on a Friday night? Absolutely nuts!

We went through the motions of shopping and yet there was heaviness in the air that refused to lift despite our best efforts to be silly. We tried on different outfits and posed for pictures.

At home, I laid out my clothes in preparation for tomorrow morning while Charlotte and Kate got ready for bed. The morning would be too hectic to think clearly, so the more organized I was tonight, the easier the morning will be on all of us. I chose a beautiful powder blue tunic with pale gold trim around the waist and a matching powder blue cloak to ward off the evening chill. The sandals were a strappy, dark brown leather that laced up around my slim ankles. The front straps had small blue stones that matched my tunic. For jewelry, I selected gold chandelier earrings with a large blue stone in the middle, gold bangles encrusted with small blue stones, and a beautiful blue ribbon to tie around the crown of my head. Maybe everything was just a tad matchy-matchy, but better to err on the side of overthinking than looking like a peasant. I decided against wearing the Roman version of undergarments and stuck with my own. I prayed my carefully selected outfit would pass me for a woman of elite background. How could it not—it came from a Hollywood studio costume shop. Now I just needed to be able to act the part.