Finding Her Time

Holding the lantern in front of her face, Claire followed the dirt road straight. Several times while she was with the Marshalls, she had crossed by the old oak. On one of her walks with the family, Mr. Marshall had pointed out the exact place he found her. Somehow, that’s where she knew she’d have to go if she wanted to back home. She traced the walk in her head to the old oak. Unfortunately, it was still very dark.

She couldn’t see it well in the dark, and the lamp light was barely any help. It was only a prick of light in the darkness. It didn’t even begin to etch her surroundings. What she wouldn’t give for a flashlight.

The cold, wet beads of rain dropped down on her like tiny daggers. Each one felt colder and sharper. The storm was taking form as lightning struck down in a spidery leg on a near by mountain. What if she didn’t make it to the tree in time? Better yet, what if this was not the way to get home. Was she on a suicide mission? Each step drawing her closer to the previously struck tree was eating away at her nerves.

She actually thought she might die. But as she tried to reassure herself, she might not. “I’m going home,” she said under her breath, “I have chosen my path.”

If only the path was quicker. At the pace she was walking, she would never make it in time, but her dress was holding her back from running. She frowned and muttered, “My kingdom for a horse.” Then she giggled for a brief moment. She always wanted a reason to say that line.

Claire slipped in the mud and cursed silently. How could she go through with this? One hour, she reminded herself, within one hour she’ll be home again. Still, tears joined the beads of rain on her face. She didn’t want to leave Kent. She didn’t want to leave the Marshalls or James. She wanted to stay here.

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It was only a fortnight ago that James was riding through the heavy rain with his only goal to get home. Now he was racing to the old oak; this time his goal was to keep Claire from leaving. His instincts told him that Claire was headed for the oak.

Since his serious, sensible Helen said she believed that Miss Silver was from the future world, he realized he also believed her stories about coming from the future. He had believed every word of her stories all along. Why that was? He wasn’t sure except that her words were so real. Added to that, there was the dream.

If that dream was real, there was her father to consider. Would he be destitute if his daughter never came home? The dream said yes. And the other lad. What about him? Would he be upset if Claire never returned? Yet again, the dream said yes. But Mr. Marshall didn’t want to believe it.

Claire came into his world for a reason. He was so sure she belonged there too. If that be the case, he should stop her from leaving, or at least give it a try.

The storm was increasingly fiercer. Only a great fool would think it safe to be roaming around in this God forsaken storm. With a nearby crash, lightning illuminated the sky and there by the old oak tree stood Claire.

“MISS SILVER!” he shouted against the thunder. She couldn’t hear him. So he rode faster and fiercer. He had to race the storm to get to her, “CLAIRE SILVER!”

Claire turned around to see a man on horseback appear by the light of the storm. She stood puzzled until he jumped out of his saddle and ran to her side. He grabbed her arm gently and she recognized his face. “Mr. Marshall, I don’t understand.”

“Please don’t go. Don’t let the lightning take you home. Come back home with me,” Mr. Marshall said quickly leaning in towards her ears, “I want you to stay with my family. I adore you, and if you go back to your time, then I will be no more than dust in my grave to you.”

“You want me to stay,” Claire mumbled confused. The surprise was welcoming. Joy crept over her skin in the form of goose bumps as she repeated his words in her head.

“Very much,” James smiled, “If you feel like you must go, then go. I won’t stop you, but I will be distraught. I do not have the talent to openly express my feelings, Claire, but I try to the best of my abilities. I highly esteem you, and if you were to return with me, I’d offer my hand, my heart, and all my worldly processions. That is to say, Claire, I wish to marry you. The choice is all yours; I only offer you another option.”

Claire looked to the tree, to the scorched ground where she should be standing if she wanted to leave. Then she looked to the drenched, brilliant man before her. He took several steps back towards his horse, his hand stretched out openly to her.

Claire looked back and fourth between the tree and the man.

There was barely any more time to decide. She had to make a move quickly. Hesitantly, she
started for the tree, but a voice whispered in her ear, this is your time, don’t give it up.

“There is no other option!” Claire shouted out as the intense bolt of lightning cracked down to the earth. Claire reached for James’s hand and he pulled her away from the scorched mark on the ground just in time.

The lightning crashed against the tree and the tree broke and pieces flew everywhere. James stood over Claire and protected her from debris. Hands still clasped, they both stared at the remains of the tree.

“Well,” James let out a low whistle, “I cannot deny I’m overjoyed that you didn’t attempt to get struck by lightning.”

“I would have regretted jumping into the lightning,” Claire laughed as she looked back at the remains of the tree, “especially if it didn’t work.”

When she turned back, James was looking down at her sweetly. He was still holding her small, fragile hands in his. His were large and warm. After the last lightning strike that destroyed the tree, the sky cleared with immense speed. The rain eased and then there were stars. Both Mr. Marshall and Claire were drenched in rain. A strand her hair stuck to her cheek as it unraveled from her bun.

Shyly, James moved that strand of hair behind her ear. His fingers tickled her cheek. But he let his fingers linger there as he lifted her face to his. Quietly, he whispered, “Marry me?”
It surprised Claire that she still had a voice to talk. Every moment of that night had swept her up, but she still heard herself say, “Isn’t that why I’m still here?”

Chuckling, James brought Claire’s face closer to his. She could feel his warm breath on her lips and then their lips met in a very shy, but sincere kiss. His lips were soft and hesitant. As they parted, James put his brow to Claire’s and closed his eyes.

“James?” Claire sighed, “Shall we go home?”

“I say we shall,” James helped Claire onto the horse. He sat behind her and started the horse on their way, “But you should be warned, my sisters will want a full account of what has occurred tonight.”

“But so much has occurred tonight,” Claire answered, “If they need a full account, I will have to write a book.”

“Then we should get home and start that novel of yours, Mrs. Marshall,” James said, enjoying the use of his soon-to-be wife’s name.