Authors: Eugenia Riley
PHANTOM IN TIME (31 page)
Shaking
her head and struggling for balance, she tried to navigate her way through the
shifting sparkles of light. Then, to her horror, she felt herself beginning to
whirl, to spin as she hadn't done in many weeks, as if she were a part of the
kaleidoscope itself. Panicking, she clawed at the air, fighting to find her
way, but unable to extricate herself from the powerful whirlpool sucking her
up—
Finally
Bella's spinning stopped and she stood totally disoriented, reeling as the
lights went back up. She could hear the audience laughing uproariously—
Blinking,
she stared around her in stupefaction. She spotted an amazed Anna Maria Bernard
and a flabbergasted Victor Daly standing directly behind her, both dressed in
classical Spanish costumes, singing a courtly duet from
Don Giovanni
amid a backdrop of a castle in Spain. Wide-eyed, she swung around to face an
audience garbed in late-twentieth century clothing, people who were roaring
with mirth, some even pointing at her schoolgirl attire—
Bella's
heart crashed in mingled shock and horror. Oh, God, had she somehow been swept
back through the kaleidoscope to the present? She glanced around wildly for the
world she had left behind, but could find no trace of the nineteenth century in
her surroundings.
The
audience continued to howl, and Anna Maria and Victor ceased their singing,
both glaring at Bella. Glancing down at her costume and realizing how ludicrous
she must look, Bella fled into the wings . . .
Chapter Twenty-eight
Trembling,
Bella stood in the wings, wondering what had happened to her. One moment she’d
been in the late-nineteenth century; then, a split second later, she'd been
thrust forward a hundred years in time. Why? Why had she been sent to the past
in the first place, and why had she been returned to the present now? What of
Jacques's fate? She had been wrenched away from him perilously close to the time
of his murder! Heavens, August was only six days away!
Bella
had no further time for thought as a livid Lesley Litchfield charged up to
confront her. “Young lady, what in God's name do you think you're doing,
crashing into our performance wearing that ridiculous getup?”
“I'm
sorry, I didn't mean to disrupt things—”
“Disrupt
things?” he cried, waving a hand in disbelief. “What do you think you did when
you vanished from this theater three weeks ago? Where in blazes have you been?”
Not knowing
what else to say, Bella blurted, “I've been having a love affair with the ghost
of Jacques LeFevre.”
“Well,
I hope you've been having a grand time!” he sneered. “If your grandmother
weren’t a major patron of this opera house—”
“Oh,
my God, Gran!” Bella gasped, hands flying to her temples.
“—if
Isabella hadn't called and begged me to hold open your place, giving me some
lame excuse about your being called away on an emergency, why, I would have
thrown your things into the street long before now.” Litchfield's face was
turning an unsightly shade of purple. “God only knows why I've put up with this
irresponsible behavior! Pull another stunt like this and you're fired!”
Bella
was left gulping as Litchfield turned on his heel and stalked away. She couldn't
blame him for being furious about one of his company members disappearing
without explanation, then disrupting the performance tonight. And Gran—bless
her heart!—must be frantic by now!
Reeling
at her chaotic thoughts, Bella watched John and Dixie rush up. John wore a Gay
Nineties costume, while Dixie was dressed as a Spanish peasant woman. Both
stared at her as if they had seen a ghost.
“Bella!”
John exclaimed. “My God, where on earth have you been? We've all been worried
sick!”
White-faced,
Dixie stepped forward and placed trembling fingers on Bella's arm. “Let me
touch you to make sure you're real! Heavens, Bella, you gave us such a scare!”
“I'm
sorry,” declared Bella earnestly, squeezing Dixie's hand.
“Why
did you interrupt the performance?” demanded John.
Bella
tore off her schoolgirl hat. “Look, it's a long story. I can't get into it
right now.”
“You
can't explain why you vanished into thin air, then miraculously reappeared
tonight?” Dixie was incredulous. “When you left us, I was so frightened I wanted
to call the police, but your grandmother assured me you had been called away on
an emergency. She told me she was sure you were okay—”
“Did
she?” asked Bella in pleasant surprise.
Dixie
nodded. “Mrs. De La Rosa even insisted your car and other belongings should
remain here in case you should return.” The girl gestured in frustration. “Only
she wouldn't tell us where you went.”
“Thank
heaven Gran didn't worry,” cried Bella, heaving a great sigh of relief.
“But
we did,” put in John, glowering at Bella. “Where have you been?”
Bella
shook her head. “If I told you, you'd never believe me.”
“Try
us,” he implored.
Staring
at their bewildered faces, Bella flashed a conciliatory smile. “Look, I
appreciate your concern. I do apologize for alarming you. Maybe we can talk
later. But right now, I
must
go check on my grandmother.”
Leaving
Dixie and John to stare after her in consternation, Bella rushed off for her
dressing room. She was relieved to find her bag and street clothing still
there, as well as the brooch Gran had given her for her birthday. She kissed
the beloved piece of jewelry and placed it inside her bag.
She
was taking off her costume when Dixie slipped inside. “Bella, are you sure
you're all right?”
Bella
tossed her dress over a chair. “Yes, I'm fine.”
Dixie
stepped closer, her eyes expressing her mystification. “It's just that . . .
it's not like you to behave so strangely. And what you said just now . . .
Well, maybe you don't owe John an explanation, but I'm your friend, Bella.”
Bella
touched her arm. “Then be my friend and don't push me. Just understand I never
meant to cause you so much worry. Okay?”
Dixie
sighed. “All right, Bella. I'm due onstage now, but we
will
talk later.”
After
Dixie left, Bella hurriedly dressed in jeans, a T-shirt, and athletic shoes,
grabbed her bag, and sped toward the theater exit. Racing down a shadowy
corridor lined with brick, she was amazed to spot Mr. Usher ahead of her,
sweeping the floor! He was dressed in his typical flannel shirt and baggy
pants, a khaki handkerchief hanging halfway out of one pocket.
Bella
skidded to a halt and stared at the ghost in astonishment. For he
must
be
a phantom, just like Jacques's ghost—she knew that now.
The
wrinkle-faced old man turned to her and grinned, supporting his weight on his broom
handle. “Well, hello there, young lady. Nice to see you back. Been off on quite
a journey, haven't you?”
Wide-eyed,
Bella nodded.
Usher
shook a finger at her and spoke ominously. “Just remember my warning: if you
don't love the opera, you won't stay.”
And
as Bella watched in amazement, Mr. Usher swept himself through the wall! She
stared as if hypnotized at the spot where he had stood only seconds earlier.
Good heavens, what had his warning meant? Had she been sent back to the present
because she didn't love opera enough?
She
pondered this for a moment, then remembered Gran, came to her senses, and
dashed out of the theater.
Luckily,
the engine of her car turned over with only a token protest. As she drove
through the French Quarter, her encounter with Mr. Usher was soon pushed to a
back burner amid anxieties over Gran—and the man Bella had abandoned a hundred
years back in time. She remained totally rattled by all that had happened to
her.
Observing
the flashing neon lights on Canal, passing other cars on St. Charles Avenue,
Bella found it so difficult to believe she was truly back in the twentieth
century. Had her journey into the past even been real?
Oh,
yes, it had been so real! She could still feel twinges between her thighs, a
physical reminder of her and Jacques's fevered lovemaking prior to the
premiere. Yes, it had been very real. Her love for Jacques was real. Indeed,
she might even have returned to the present carrying his child.
Oh,
what if this were true? What would she do then?
And
what if she never saw him again? she asked herself with an aching heart. If so,
then she was very glad they had loved. With a lump in her throat, she realized
she might never make her way back to him—or save his life. She chided herself
for not leveling with him before she left, for not insisting he leave the opera
before it claimed his life. And how would he feel when he discovered she had
vanished without even saying good bye? Plus, she had disappeared soon after
their terrible fight, with things still so unresolved between them.
At
last she spotted the lights of Gran's house. Bella parked in the driveway,
rushed up the steps to the house, and unlocked the door. She tiptoed inside the
shadowy corridor, heading first into the dining room. She poured herself a small
brandy, lifted it with trembling fingers, and quickly gulped it down.
Grimacing, she left the room and climbed the stairs.
In
the upper corridor, she creaked open the door to Gran's room. She smiled with
relief at the sight of Gran. Wearing a long blue velvet robe, the old woman
dozed in her rocker, her thin, lined faced softened by the light of a lamp. In
her lap lay her opened Bible and her reading glasses.
On
the opposite side of the large room, a nurse sat in an armchair reading a
novel. Bella recognized the woman as one of several Gran's doctor had hired to
sit with Isabella at night.
Spotting
Bella at the door, the middle-aged woman set down her novel, rose, and tiptoed
over, her expression astonished. “Miss De La Rosa, you are back.”
Bella
smiled. “Hello, Mrs. Finch. How is my grandmother?”
Glancing
at Isabella, the woman shook her head. “Hanging on—waiting for you, I think.”
She consulted her watch. “Miss Isabella insists on staying up until ten every
night, but she's been dozing for most of an hour now. I was about to go fetch
her some of that herbal tea she likes to have before retiring. Want to sit with
her while I run down to the kitchen?”
“Of
course. Take your time.”
After
the nurse slipped out of the room, Bella tiptoed over and observed Gran for a
moment, feeling relieved to note that her coloring appeared no worse than
before. But she was clearly thinner and her breathing sounded more labored.
Bella
leaned over and kissed Gran's brow. Isabella stirred, smiling up at Bella in
surprise and delight.
“Darling!”
she cried. “You are back!”
Bella
hugged Gran, her heart aching as she felt how pitifully frail the old woman
was—as if she were embracing a skeleton. “Hello, dear Gran. I've missed you
terribly. How are you?”
“Oh,
I'm fine,” Gran assured her, wiping away a tear. “I'm just so glad to see you
again. I wasn't sure I ever would.”
Bella
plopped down on Gran's footstool, clutched her hands, and stared up at her with
keen regret. “I must have scared you halfway out of your wits.”
“No,
darling, I knew you were all right,” Gran replied. “That's why I was able to
reassure your friends and Mr. Litchfield. After you disappeared, I had a few
irate phone calls to contend with, as you might well imagine.”
Bella
flashed Gran a look of apology and compassion. “Bless you for handling all
that.”
Gran
smiled radiantly. “There was no burden, dear, for I knew you were happy. You've
been with Jacques LeFevre, haven't you?”
“How
did you know?” Bella asked, amazed.
Gran
chuckled. “You're forgetting that I was there the night you vanished. After our
discussion on the possibility of time-travel, it wasn't too difficult to figure
out what had happened. Didn't I warn you that rascal would sweep you away?”
“But
I thought you were kidding!”
“I
would never jest regarding something so important, dear. I've long held the
view that things happen in this universe that can't be logically explained.”
Gran patted Bella's hand. “Tell me all about it.”
Slowly,
Bella spilled out her story to Gran, telling of how she had traveled back
through time, met Jacques, become a part of his world, and fallen under his
spell. She told of her adjustment to living in the late nineteenth century, and
how Jacques and his music had wooed her powerfully.
After
a moment, she quietly admitted, “Then, one magical night, I overcame my fear
and sang for Jacques.”
“Oh,
Bella, I'm so happy!” Gran declared. “I knew you would triumph one day!”
“It
was quite a moment,” Bella acknowledged with a tremulous smile.
“Did
you give yourself to this man?”
Bella
nodded solemnly. “Yes, after I sang for him.” She shuddered with emotion. “The
next morning—actually this morning, weird as that sounds—he asked me to marry
him, but I said no.”
“Why,
Bella?”
“Why?”
She gestured in frustration. “Because Jacques LeFevre and I are from different
worlds, literally and figuratively. Because he is about to be murdered,
somewhere off in some time warp. Because he doesn't really want me, he wants my
voice and what I represent. Because I can't become the woman to share the opera
with him.”
Gran's
features were twisted in perplexity. “But I thought you said you sang for him—”
Bella
gestured passionately. “I did, but you know how it is with my stage fright. It
always recurs. Not to mention the fact that Jacques and I do live a hundred
years apart.”
“But
didn't your love overcome the barrier of time? Couldn't it do so again?”