Chasing Time: A Love Through Time Novel Read online

  “And you love him,” Christopher said, more as a statement than a question.

  She nodded, and the tears began to fall. “But I was ok with that. I convinced myself it was fine. I just needed him there. It didn’t matter whether he loved me or not. I just needed him in my life… Two days before graduation he kissed me, he gave me the most soul splitting, passionate kiss I could have ever hoped for and then ran away. He literally ran from me. I went to his dorm the next day to talk to him. I thought ‘maybe he loves me too.’ That perhaps he had just realized it and that’s why he had kissed me. There were so many feelings and questions going through me, and I had no idea what he thought of anything. There was one thing I knew for certain, if he said it was a mistake, it would destroy me.”

  She stopped and shook her head looking beyond Christopher. Reliving the moments that had led to this. She wiped her cheek. “I needed to know the truth, I needed an answer. So, I walked into his room and when he saw me he closed the distance between us and kissed me again. He held me in his arms with such need, and longing that I felt hope. I thought for a few moments ‘This is it. He knows I love him, and he loves me too. We can finally be together after all this time,’ but then he abruptly broke the kiss, and pulled away from me. He left me there, alone. I felt my world crash as he withdrew from me, yet again. He turned his back to me and the emptiness I felt left me feeling weak. He told me he didn’t want that, not with me. That he was sorry but it had been a mistake, a huge mistake and that it felt wrong to him, that he didn’t want it,” the hold she had tried so hard to keep on her emotions broke, and she began to sob.

  Christopher dragged his chair closer to her and held her, hugging her tight as she cried.

  “I was sure if there was someone in this life that would never hurt me it would be him, but I was wrong. I was so wrong,” wrapping her arms around his waist, she clung to him and cried, like she had only done in Jonathan’s arms.

  Christopher held Samantha in his arms, feeling her pain so close, so strongly that the tears began to spill from his eyes too. After a while her sobs subsided, and she seemed to be a bit calmer. She leaned back, pulling out of his arms and noticed his tears. She caught one with her finger and he smiled at her.

  “Who is Abby?” She asked softly.

  He remained silent, while taking one of the cloth napkins from the table. He lifted it to her face and gently dabbed at her cheeks drying her tears. Placing the napkin on the table once again, he looked into her eyes, and another tear fell from his. “Abigail, my wife.”

  Samantha looked at him confused for a moment while he paused, as though to compose himself. He cleared his throat.

  “She died last year from leukemia,” his voice broke, as the last word left his lips. He looked at her, feeling the fire inside him. The wild flames of the pain, searing him all over again.

  “We had been married for four years. She was a professor at Oxford as well, Architecture. We were in the back yard of our home one afternoon, and she fainted. She was fine, there were no symptoms, no illness visible, but she fainted so I took her to the hospital. After several tests, they diagnosed her with leukemia. It was too advanced. There was nothing they could do for her… She died the week after,” his tears began falling freely. “She was fine… she was fine,” he repeated over and over again.

  Samantha hugged him, tears of her own falling for him. Together they cried. They were both scarred; they had experienced different losses, but losses nonetheless.

  Christopher pulled back, and Samantha kissed his cheek. He offered her a small smile, and dried her tears again. Taking the napkin from him, she dried his too.

  “I haven’t spoken about her since she died. I haven’t talked about this with anyone.”

  She looked at their hands together, realizing she had been holding his. She smiled and looked into his eyes. “I understand, Christopher. You can always talk to me. If you ever need to, I’m here,” she offered, and kissed his cheek tenderly again.

  “Would you like to order a bottle of wine? I think tea is not going to cut it today.”

  She chuckled and nodded. “Yes, I think that’s a great idea.”

  The food arrived and so did the wine.

  “To new friends,” they toasted, and began to eat, feeling slightly lighter.

  “Are you originally from here?” she asked a while later, while they ate.

  He nodded. “I’m from London, born and raised. And you? What part of the United States are you from?”

  “I’m from Michigan, Springport, actually. A very small town, it has only about 800 people,” she chuckled at his expression.

  “What? That’s bonkers, absolutely bonkers,” she laughed. “I could never imagine myself in such a small town. It must have been a shock when you got to Harvard?”

  She laughed nodding. “Yeah, it was.”

  “And coming from that small of a town, all the way to Harvard, and now you are at Oxford. It’s bloody brilliant!”

  She smiled. “Thank you. I have worked really hard to get here.”

  “Then, I must make sure you enjoy it.”

  *

  After their early dinner, Samantha and Christopher walked towards her dorm.

  “Do you live close? You mentioned you had a house before.”

  His eyes left her face, and he shook his head. “I sold it after Abby died. I didn’t want anything that reminded me…” he cut off, and looked down ashamed, “Anyway, I moved into the private housing here at the university. About four buildings that way,” he said pointing towards their right, and across the garden. “That’s the reason you always see me roaming around campus, with my books. Like the day we met.”

  “That we met? Or that you ran me over?”

  “Both,” they laughed. “Have you any other family there in Michigan?”

  “Yes, my Father,” her voice became nostalgic with the simple answer.

  “It must be difficult for you, then.”

  She nodded. “I plan on bringing him with me. I’m going to save, get a place, and work on his residency papers so that he can come live with me.”

  “I understand,” Christopher said, looking at her kindly.

  “What about you? Any family here?”

  He smiled. “Yes, my parents. They live in London. I also have a sister that lives in Italy. She moved there with her husband three years ago,” he suddenly chuckled, and Samantha looked at him curious. “And Georgina.”

  Her eyes widened. “Georgina, as in Georgina Collingwood? As in The Queen of Hearts?” She asked, incredulous. Trying to make sure they were talking about the same person.

  He took a deep breath. “Yes, she’s my Mother-in-law.”

  Samantha gasped, unable to hide her surprise. Suddenly, it dawned on her. That was why he knew so much about her, and always talked to her with familiarity. Informally, as opposed to how the other professors addressed her. That was why he brought her coffee or her favorite tea to the meetings at the university.

  “That’s why Georgina is the way she is. She is in pain, mourning for her daughter,” Samantha said with certainty.

  Christopher nodded, silently.

  They stood in front of her building, and she realized they had been holding hands the whole way there. Christopher looked at their hands together, with tenderness then at her. She smiled at him, hugging him.

  “Thank you. For caring, for listening,” she said, truly grateful for his presence.

  “No, thank you, Samantha. Thanks to you, I was able to finally talk about it with someone. Thank you for listening.”

  “Whenever you want to talk, I’m here,” she answered cradling his face with her right hand and placing a kiss on his cheek.

  “And I’m here, should you need me. No matter the time,” he replied, looking into her eyes and smiled.

  She turned around to enter the building, but stopped when she heard his voice.

  “Samantha, same place, same time tomorrow for breakfast.”

  She nodded, a
nd went inside.

  *

  Christopher walked towards his building focusing on the assortment of colors that painted the sky with the sunset. Evening had fallen, and he had effectively spent all day in Samantha’s company. The feelings inside him were confusing, to put it mildly. The mixture of emotions he was experiencing right now were puzzling. There was pain, but to that he was used to. It was always present inside him, and then there was something else. Relief, he felt relieved that he had finally been able to talk about Abby again. An emotion he never thought he would feel, when it came to her. Even though he felt pain, so much pain, it also felt good to talk about her. He missed her more than he could dare to admit to himself. Every day, every minute, except when he was with Samantha. Then there was tenderness, attraction, he even felt nervous sometimes around her. It felt good when he touched her hand. She made him feel as though he could begin again. Be whole again, someday.

  Someday.

  This scared him to no end. He didn’t want to care for anyone else. He didn’t want to love anyone else. He loved his Abby, and he didn’t want to forget.

  Closing the door of his apartment, he walked towards his room, stood in front of his dresser, and opened one of the drawers. He pulled out the layers of folded shirts inside, and reached all the way in the back. At the bottom of the last shirt pile he could see the corner of a frame, pulling it out, he walked towards his bed and sat. He held the picture carefully in his hands as he observed it. It was a picture of them, of him and Abby. He was standing besides her, hugging her to him and she was laughing. Her red hair fell flowingly over her face and shoulders, accentuating her green eyes. His fingertip delicately traced her face over the glass.

  “You always had the most beautiful smile I had ever seen,” he whispered, as his hand began to tremble. The tears spilled from his eyes and he gave into the pain.

  “I’m so sorry, Abby. I’m sorry I didn’t see it earlier. I’m sorry I couldn’t help you. I’m sorry I failed you,” he sobbed, as the despair ate at his heart.

  Christopher stood, and walked back to the dresser opening the drawer once again. His teary gaze went to the dedication written on the corner.

  “To my Prince, from his Princess…”

  He brought the picture to his lips, kissed it gently and placed it back in the drawer, covering it with the pile of shirts again.

  He lay on the bed, with his clothes on and stared at the darkness as the tears ran down his cheeks.

  Christopher woke up when the light of the new day began to filter through the window. Two days had passed since he spoke with Samantha about Abby. It was Friday morning and he felt as though the weight of the world had been lifted from his shoulders.

  For too long he had felt trapped in the darkness. He had hidden in the pain of Abby’s sudden passing, of her loss. He had shut off the world, not knowing how to deal with it. Yet, he now felt as though there was light in his darkness. Like he could finally face what had happened.

  Abby had left him.

  She was gone.

  Perhaps, it might be ok to keep living. It might be ok for him to accept that. He knew it was a long road to travel, but he might just be up to trying…

  Samantha and Christopher had spent the past couple of days together, and he had truly enjoyed her company. He liked the way he felt with her. Nervous. Hopeful. Excited. He wasn’t entirely sure what these feelings meant, but he wouldn’t dare to analyze them either. It was too overwhelming. He couldn’t do that right now. He just wanted to enjoy her company.

  He stepped out of his apartment, and began walking towards her building. He had told Samantha he would meet her at the café, but he couldn’t wait to see her. Instead, he decided to surprise her. As he approached her building, she stepped out, and began to walk away. Changing his pace, he walked swiftly to catch, her and purposely bumped into her. She turned around startled, but soon began to laugh when saw it was him. He gave her a crooked smile.

  “This is embarrassing. We really have got to stop meeting this way. I’m downright serious. You have no idea how to walk. It’s mind boggling to me, simply…”

  “Oh, put a sock on it!” Samantha retorted, faking a British accent, and laughed when his eyes widened in surprise. “Oh, you like that one? I have another one, wait,” She added trying to remember. “This is bloody rubbish!”

  Christopher lost it. He was laughing so hard he began to cry. “That has got to be the worst British accent I have ever heard! It was so bad it was pure brilliance! Just terrible.”

  She laughed. “It’s the dog’s bollocks!”

  He grabbed her hand, laughing, and pulled her as he began to walk. “Please stop, I beg of you. I’ve suffered enough for today.”

  While they walked towards the café, Christopher observed her. She was wearing another dress. It was white and lavender, with delicate flowers on it. Her makeup was subtle, and her hair fell in layers over her shoulders. She had beautiful eyes. He looked into them when she caught him looking at her. Her cheeks blushed, and he smiled. He raised their hands together.

  “Twirl for me, please,” he said, causing her blush to deepen. Yet, she chuckled, and twirled. Christopher smiled, delighted. “You look exceptionally beautiful today, Samantha.”

  “Thank you. I’ve discovered that dresses are my new favorite thing to wear,” he looked at her confused. She chuckled. “I’ve always been a bit of a tomboy,” she confessed, a bit embarrassed.

  He chuckled. “Is that so?” she nodded. “Well, you look stunning in them.”

  As if it were possible, her blush intensified and she could feel her cheeks burning. She looked away. She had never been fond of getting people’s attention, but for some reason she liked his attention on her.

  “Well, I must say you look very handsome today yourself,” she said, her eyes returning to his.

  He frowned. “I do?” she laughed, and nodded, prompting him to assess himself. He was wearing a baby blue polo shirt with a brown blazer, dark blue jeans and brown shoes. He lifted his gaze to hers once again. “Who knew?”

  Samantha chuckled. “You do, and I love the way your blue eyes become vibrant, with that shirt.”

  It was Christopher’s turn to blush, although he was still a tad confused. “You like my eyes?” He asked, incredulous.

  She smiled. “I love your eyes.”

  “Really?”

  She nodded. “Now your hair and that beard are a completely different story,” she added stopping in front of him, and lifted her hand to brush his hair.

  He stopped walking, nerves suddenly rendering him motionless as she put her fingers through his hair. Christopher’s eyes closed of their own volition, and he became lost in the sensations her touch awakened. When his eyes finally opened, she was smiling.

  “You need a haircut,” she said, matter of fact.

  “What? What just happened? I thought I looked handsome just a moment ago, now I’ve got to cut my hair? What happened to handsome? I liked handsome.”

  She laughed, and pulled on his hand walking again. He smiled, and walked beside her.

  “The weather is so nice today,” Samantha said, smiling as they sat in one of the tables outside the café. She closed her eyes, and rested her head back, enjoying the feel of the sun on her skin.

  Christopher’s eyes drifted from her, looking all around him. He could see the people walking along the sidewalk, engrossed in their conversations. The kids playing at the park across the street, the air filled with their laughter. The trees along the path, the flower beds around them, the clear blue sky. His eyes returned to her and he closed them, leaning his head back towards the sun, just like Samantha had done. It did indeed felt nice on his skin. He smiled, feeling a new sense of awareness in him. It was as though he was breaking through the fog. After a few minutes, he opened his eyes and found her looking at him. She had a wide smile on her lips.

  “What? You said it was nice. I wanted to try it.”

  Samantha chuckled. It was nice to see him l
ike that. He almost looked happy, almost.

  “I spoke to my Father last night,” she said looking down at her plate and pinching the bread.

  “Marvelous, how is he?”

  “He’s doing well,” she paused, still playing with the piece of bread.

  Christopher’s eyes followed the movement of her fingers then looked into her eyes, concerned. Her demeanor had changed. Her unease was palpable. “And?” he prompted.

  She sighed. “And he gave me a message from Jonathan. He gave me his new number, and his address in Boston. He said that Jonathan asked him to please tell me that he was truly sorry, and that he missed me. That he wouldn’t rest until he found me,” her eyes teared up, and she took a deep breath, trying to contain the tears.

  Christopher moved to sit next to her, and pulled her into his arms. She hugged him back, while her tears began to fall.

  “I’m sorry,” she told him breaking the hug and grabbing a napkin to dab at her eyes.

  “You don’t have to be, I am your friend. I am here for you, always, but I think you should call him,” she looked at him, confused. “From what you have told me, he cares about you a great deal, and even if he doesn’t love you like you do him, he does care about you. He seems sorry. I don’t know him, but it sounds like he’s suffering too, and I think you two need to talk.”

  “There is nothing to talk about. He was very clear about what he felt.”

  Christopher sighed. “It sounds to me as if there is plenty to talk about. It seems as though he doesn’t know you love him, or why you are gone. And judging by his reaction it’s easy to conclude that he might not be fully aware of what he feels for you either. I believe you need to talk to him. Be straightforward with him about how you feel, and clear things out, because it will be worse if you just don’t know. You will both suffer.”