In last week's episode of Trapped in Time II, Doll and Vittorio were reunited at last, but not quite in the way Doll had anticipated. Is this a temporary setback? And will Doll hold it together long enough to come up with a plan? Find out in this week's chapter. This will be the last one I post here, so I can work on it and sub it to Xtasy. Next week, I'll start something new. And don't forget to visit the rest of the Briefers and taste of their literary offerings! Their links follow my tale. Enjoy!
I stand there, frozen, wasting precious moments while I try
to collect my thoughts. What has happened, and how can I fix it and make things
right between us? How can I engender a spark of recognition inside of him so
that he will know me again?
I did not come all this way to find him simply to give up
and walk away. That is not how we do things where I come from. But I realize
that if I run after them now, I will only make things worse. A conundrum,
indeed, when my heart tells me to go but my brain tells me to stay.
My legs feel as if they will no longer support my weight and
I fall into the nearest pew. From there I slide to my knees, my hands pressed
together in heartfelt supplication as I pray to the Creator. Please, God, help me. I am lost without him.
How can I reach him and make him know who he is and who we are? Please help me
to help him so that we can become us once again.
I raise my eyes toward one of the candles near the front of
the church and as I watch it seems to flicker brightly; a warmth suffuses me. I
have my answer and I am content. My faith sustains me, my belief in God and in
Vittorio and myself.
How do you mend a broken heart? By talking to God.
Slowly I make my way from the church. I will return here, of
that I have no doubt. At least now I know where he is. And I suspect I will
have to talk to him when his new protector is not around. I can be patient, now
that I have found him. At least, I hope I can.
There is no sign of Vittorio, or of the preacher’s daughter.
I had expected no less. My return to the hotel is at a much slower pace; I have
much to think about. First and foremost, though, I have an overwhelming desire
to speak with my father, to find comfort in his love, and to avail myself of
his wisdom.
He will know what to do. At least I hope so.
As I approach the hotel, I get the sudden feeling that I am
being watched. The sensation crawls along my spine and into my neck most
unpleasantly. I glance around me. People go about their business, paying no
attention to me. But then I spot him. The sheriff. Apparently his office is
just across the street from the hotel. He stands in the doorway, arms folded
across his chest. How lovely. He stares at me. From this distance, his
expression is unreadable, but his stance is decidedly hostile.
I cannot worry about him right now.
As I head up the hotel stairs, I meet my father, coming
down. Worry creases his face, and he breathes a sigh of relief upon seeing me.
“Doll, they told me you ran out. Are you all right? Is
something wrong?”
Without thinking, I fall into my father’s loving arms and
bury my face against his chest, fighting the sobs that wrack my body. I had
meant to hold it all in, to be calm and rational, but my broken heart has
betrayed me, and I am a child again within my father’s embrace.
He walks me up the stairs, carefully, to our room, and sits
me onto the bed, without a word. As I continue to cry, he strokes my back. I
know the others are there, I can feel their presence, hear murmurs, but no one
interrupts us.
At last, I push back, sniffling as I attempt to breathe.
Vati takes his handkerchief and wipes my face, then hands it to me so I can
blow my nose. I take a deep breath, attempt to calm myself, and begin.
“I found Vittorio...”
Vati looks confused. I can’t blame him, since obviously
Vittorio is not with me.
“He... he does not know me.” The words do not wish to come
out; they are most painful to speak. And yet for the moment they are the truth.
I explain about the pennyfarthing and the small boy and the
church, and what I found there. Vati listens without interruption. The others
maintain a respectful distance, but I know they are listening as well. Also
without comment.
When I am done with my tale I sigh, a huge tremor that
shakes my entire body. Vati seats himself beside me on the bed, and pulls me
against him. For a few moments, nothing is said. I can feel the rhythmic thump
of his heart as it beats inside his chest, the strength of his arms as they
envelop me.
Charlie kneels at my feet. He takes my hand in his and I
look down into his expressive eyes. “Do not be sad, Doll, Vittorio still loves
you. He just does not remember.”
I believe that, I truly do. It is the only thing that holds
me together. And yet it is still small consolation after having searched for
him so long, and no substitute at all for the happy ending I had envisioned
once I found him.
“Vati.” I turn my face toward my father, looking for a ray
of hope. “Do you think... I mean, since magic took him from me, can magic bring
him back?”
I know he wants to reassure me that everything will be all
right. I am his child, and it is natural that he wish to protect me. But he
also does not believe in lying, or offering false hope. This I know, for my
father is most honorable man.
“I don’t know,” he says at last. “Perhaps. Myron and I will
certainly try.”
“Yes, we will,” Myron affirms.
A sudden noise from outside diverts our attention. Myron and
Charlie race to the window, while Mary hoots.
Someone seems to be screaming.
“Zed’s dead! Zed’s dead!”
end (for now)
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