still hung in her mind.
“Can you tell me what is the date?” Ella asked.
“So you are taking little steps to the truth. It was the same with me. My name is Greta Schaefer and I am the Mother Superior of this convent.”
The young woman returned with a pitcher of water which she placed on the nightstand and left the room. The nun poured water into Ella’s cup.
“It is the sixth day of October,” Greta said, as she handed the cup to Ella. “In the year of our gracious Lord, 1620.”
Ella’s hand froze as she reached for the cup and she stared blankly at Greta. The expression on Ella’s face spoke louder than any words could: How is that possible?
“It is a lot to understand,” Greta said. “I know from your clothes and from where you were found, that you are not from this time.”
Ella put a hand to her head and looked around the room as if trying to see if there was anything in the room or about the nun that might conceivably disprove the idea. Zippers? Bifocals? A bedside clock? Sounds of traffic? Anything? “But, how…is that possible?” she said.
“I know you have many questions,” Greta said. “I recognized immediately that you and I are alike. You understand what I am telling you?” Greta reached over and touched Ella’s hand but Ella withdrew it immediately.
“Forgive me,” Greta said. “You have slept for many hours and it is so hard to be patient. I have many questions, too,” she said. “I, myself, came here from the year 1946. Are you from anywhere near that time?”
Ella watched her for any sign of guile, but the nun merely smiled patiently, her eyes bright and eager.
“2012,” Ella said finally.
“Oh!” Greta put her hand to her mouth as if she’d been goosed. “Such a long way into the future. So much must have happened.”
“I’m sorry, Sister,” Ella said, forming her words carefully in order to be understood. “Can you tell me how it is possible that you…that you came to be here from…you said 1946? Are we in some kind of time bubble?”
Greta smiled and shook her head. “I am sure I must have sounded as confused and mad to everyone as you do to me now,” she said. “When you have slept again and eaten, I will tell you my story and then, perhaps, you will tell me yours. Meanwhile, it is sufficient that God has sent you to help us and for that I am grateful but not surprised. That is well for now. Rest. We will talk later.”
Ella could not keep her eyes open. It occurred to her that it didn’t really matter to her where she was or even when she was. She was safe and dry from the storm. And for now that was enough. As she drifted off to sleep, she felt a cool hand gently smooth her brow.
Rowan sat in his apartment, his cellphone on his knee, staring at the wall. In the noisy bar earlier that evening, he hadn’t heard his cellphone go off and had missed the call from Ella. He lifted the bottle of beer to his lips and glanced at the cellphone screen. He had listened to her voicemail ten times already. It wasn’t likely to get any less cryptic. He hit the play button again anyway.
“Hey, Rowan. Surprise. It’s me. Look, I was just wondering what you were up to. I mean, we haven’t talked in awhile. When you get this message...please call me back…And if you’re screening this call because you’ve got some Alabama hottie on tap there, that’s cool. Except I thought US Marshals have to be available at all times. What if I were a Federal witness needing a ride somewhere? Not to get all dramatic here but I kind of need you, Rowan.
“Can you tell me what is the date?” Ella asked.
“So you are taking little steps to the truth. It was the same with me. My name is Greta Schaefer and I am the Mother Superior of this convent.”
The young woman returned with a pitcher of water which she placed on the nightstand and left the room. The nun poured water into Ella’s cup.
“It is the sixth day of October,” Greta said, as she handed the cup to Ella. “In the year of our gracious Lord, 1620.”
Ella’s hand froze as she reached for the cup and she stared blankly at Greta. The expression on Ella’s face spoke louder than any words could: How is that possible?
“It is a lot to understand,” Greta said. “I know from your clothes and from where you were found, that you are not from this time.”
Ella put a hand to her head and looked around the room as if trying to see if there was anything in the room or about the nun that might conceivably disprove the idea. Zippers? Bifocals? A bedside clock? Sounds of traffic? Anything? “But, how…is that possible?” she said.
“I know you have many questions,” Greta said. “I recognized immediately that you and I are alike. You understand what I am telling you?” Greta reached over and touched Ella’s hand but Ella withdrew it immediately.
“Forgive me,” Greta said. “You have slept for many hours and it is so hard to be patient. I have many questions, too,” she said. “I, myself, came here from the year 1946. Are you from anywhere near that time?”
Ella watched her for any sign of guile, but the nun merely smiled patiently, her eyes bright and eager.
“2012,” Ella said finally.
“Oh!” Greta put her hand to her mouth as if she’d been goosed. “Such a long way into the future. So much must have happened.”
“I’m sorry, Sister,” Ella said, forming her words carefully in order to be understood. “Can you tell me how it is possible that you…that you came to be here from…you said 1946? Are we in some kind of time bubble?”
Greta smiled and shook her head. “I am sure I must have sounded as confused and mad to everyone as you do to me now,” she said. “When you have slept again and eaten, I will tell you my story and then, perhaps, you will tell me yours. Meanwhile, it is sufficient that God has sent you to help us and for that I am grateful but not surprised. That is well for now. Rest. We will talk later.”
Ella could not keep her eyes open. It occurred to her that it didn’t really matter to her where she was or even when she was. She was safe and dry from the storm. And for now that was enough. As she drifted off to sleep, she felt a cool hand gently smooth her brow.
Rowan sat in his apartment, his cellphone on his knee, staring at the wall. In the noisy bar earlier that evening, he hadn’t heard his cellphone go off and had missed the call from Ella. He lifted the bottle of beer to his lips and glanced at the cellphone screen. He had listened to her voicemail ten times already. It wasn’t likely to get any less cryptic. He hit the play button again anyway.
“Hey, Rowan. Surprise. It’s me. Look, I was just wondering what you were up to. I mean, we haven’t talked in awhile. When you get this message...please call me back…And if you’re screening this call because you’ve got some Alabama hottie on tap there, that’s cool. Except I thought US Marshals have to be available at all times. What if I were a Federal witness needing a ride somewhere? Not to get all dramatic here but I kind of need you, Rowan.
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