Swan's Way by Becky Lee Weyrich

read, “Leonard Kirkwoo—” Zee, working at his compost pile, was tossing a shovel of mulch into a wheelbarrow. Not only did his shovel stop cold, but the tossed loam froze in midair. On the back veranda, a calico cat, who had been chasing a pesky flea, stopped scratching. It made no difference. The flea stopped too. Even the Sunday fried chicken ceased its sizzling in the black iron skillet on the stove in the kitchen.
    Silence fell. Swan’s Quarter waited for the return of the pair of time-travelers.
    So little time!
    Ginna closed her eyes, trying to shut out the inevitability of Channing’s words, but there was no way to escape that haunting echo. The war was coming and something was going to happen that would separate Virginia Swan from Channing McNeal forever. There would be no wedding, no future, no everlasting happiness for the two of them.
    Soon Ginna felt the room, the Fifth Avenue Hotel, the entire city of New York swirling around her. She grew dizzy and disoriented. She had experienced these uncomfortable sensations before, whenever she overtaxed her imperfect heart. She was going to faint. There was absolutely nothing she could do to stop herself.
    Bright pinpoints of light appeared against the red-black backdrop of her closed eyelids. Her whole body suddenly felt weightless. Next came a sensation of flying or falling through space. Then a fierce wind. Then nothing.
    “Ginna? Ginna!”
    Neal’s urgent cries parted the black curtains that had closed over her consciousness. She opened her eyes slowly, dreading what she might see. To her surprise and vast relief, the two of them were back in the greenhouse. Overhead, she saw the gnarled wisteria vine, its delicate, purple cascades of blossoms trembling in a slight breeze. And Neal was there, his arms around her waist, supporting her full weight.
    “God, you scared the life out of me!”
    She rubbed a hand over her eyes, then glanced up at the pane of glass where the ghostly shades of Virginia and Channing had wavered in the bright sunlight, such a short time before. The sun had moved higher. Their images were no longer visible.
    “What happened?” Neal asked.
    She stared at him, trying to decide if he recalled any of the bizarre adventure they had shared. She couldn’t tell for sure, although Neal’s dark eyes still held the lovelight that had kindled each time Channing looked at Virginia. But now he was Neal again, and she was just plain Ginna.
    She forced a faint smile. “Did you see the ghosts?”
    Neal looked at her blankly for a moment. He frowned, then nodded. “I saw them. It was eerie—like they were right here with us.”
    She could tell by his hesitant answer and the puzzled look on his face that he remembered more than he was willing to tell. Had they merely shared a common vision, or had they really traveled back in time? Whichever it was, Ginna guessed that Neal knew what they had been through together, whether he wanted to admit it or not.
    Ginna was right. Neal did remember most of what had happened, although he refused to admit the fact, even to himself. He chalked up the visions of New York to one more side effect of the trauma he had suffered at the time of the plane crash. Just another one of my weird dreams , he told himself. He decided not to think about it Instead, he turned his attention back to Ginna.
    “You fainted,” he accused. “I’m taking you to Dr. Kirkwood right now.”
    “I did not faint!” she argued. “I’ll be fine. Just give me a minute to catch my breath.”
    “No!” he stated bluntly. “You need a doctor, Ginna.”
    “Please, Neal.” Her voice softened, and she begged him with her eyes. “This has happened to me before. It’s a passing weakness. I’ll be all right, really I will.”
    He gazed at her uncertainly, his dark eyes once more filled with the old pain she knew so well. “Humor me. Okay, Ginna? I never had a woman go all limp on me before. I’m worried about you. I’d feel better if the