neither had the ring that Henley had given me.
In the struggle with the intruder, one of us must have hit the clock and accidentally turned it, causing me to travel in time. That was the reason the hotel room had felt so different after the scuffle. I cursed myself for not having realized earlier. Had Henley come with me? When was this, anyway?
âHenley?â I tried. âHenley?â
Are you hurt?
His voice was so loaded with concern. I remembered he couldnât quite see me; he only saw an outline of me and therefore didnât know if I was hurt.
âNo, Iâm fine.â I stretched and cringed.
I think you have a different definition of fine.
Though Henley couldnât see me per se, that didnât mean he didnât pay close attention to the outline of my body and its movements. But on the bright side, he couldnât see that I was naked either.
I threw on the shift and began to earnestly rummage through the clothes. I wanted to take what I thought I would need and leave the house before anyone found me, but I also wanted clues as to whereâor rather when âI was.
I put on what looked like a petticoat and a reddish-brown gown that laced up in the front. There were other clothes that I didnât know how to wear, but I figured this was fine for my purposes . . . whatever my purposes were.
âThankfully the clock has to be somewhere . . .â
I was talking mostly to myself, but Henley replied, Does it always come with you?
It was easy to forget that even Henley didnât know all the workings of time travel that I had learned through Miss Hatfield.
âThatâs just how it works. The clock has always come with me. It normally stays in Miss Hatfieldâs house, but thereâs no reason it should be different this time.â
It goes where you go?
âRather, the clockâs just so old that going back or forth in time doesnât change it. Itâs always been the same. . . . You know, the intruder must have taken it.â
Taken it with him?
âThatâs why itâs not here. It wouldnât just disappear.â I ran my fingers through my hair. âCanât you just . . . see?â
You mean look for a small clock in all of space and time?
It did sound absurd when he put it that way. âIs that a no?â
Rebecca. Itâs like looking into a dollhouse for a miniature clock. Thatâs hard enough as it is. Now multiply that dollhouse by a few million to account for the entire world, and then a few million more to account for all the houses that have ever existed or will exist in time. Now do you know how absurd and impossible this is?
âBut you found me.â
And it took a while. And a gap in time is slightlyâonly slightlyâeasier to find than this needle in a haystack. Besides, that was you. You have this . . . draw. Itâs hard to explain.
I was glad Henley found his way back to me, but I couldnât help but wish he could have been a little more helpful. It looked like it was going to be up to me to find the clock.
I tried to put the contents of the chest back the way I had found them, but I knew the owner would probably realize that a few pieces were missing. I didnât know what I was doing, but I did know that I had to leave before the houseâs inhabitants came back.
âLook, I have to get it back.â
I opened the door, and a gust of cold wind flew up into my face. In the coarse, homespun dress, I hesitated in the doorway.
For once, Henley didnât say I was being hasty or foolish. He didnât say anything.
The planes were gone, no longer screaming through the sky. The asphalt was gone. The smell of wet concrete was gone as well. What was left behind was a startling green that made the wide sky seem brighter.
So I walked.
Heathrow really was a heath in whatever time this was. Everything in the landscape was rough, from the coarse grass to the