An Untimely Romance: A Time Travel Romance (22 page)

“I do love you, you
know.”

Heather smiled. She
loved him too, but was she in love with him, and could it ever be enough?
Maybe
there’s only one way to find out
, she thought.

“Love you too,” she
replied, looking down. Her words said one thing, her eyes another.

Dimly lit, to an
overwhelming brightness as they headed back up to the main house, where staff
members wished her well.

“Happy birthday,
Heather.”

“Yes, have a great
day.”

“Got a present for you
in the car.”

“Tonight’s gunna be
great!”

Their romantic moment
was lost, but Ruben never let go of her hand, walking slightly in front and
leading her to the staircase. It had been a while, and the only way for
her to move on was to stop avoiding that room, which held so many bittersweet
memories. As she approached the landing, her eyes wandered, and she heard the
clock chime its usual welcome.
Ten o’clock
, she thought. She looked up
at the portrait, and Frank’s eyes bore into her soul, as if watching each and
every step she took, closer and closer to that room,
their
room. She had
to look away, the guilt so intense she could have cried.
I’m so sorry,
Frankie, but this is the only chance I have of a life, so what else can
I do?

She caught a fleeting
glance from Ruben, his come-to-bed eyes unmistakable. He reached for the brass
handle, and as he did so the door opened inward, her mother rushing out with
yet more flowers.

“Alright, Faye!” Ruben
jumped, caught off guard. “We were just, err ... checking the rooms. Heather’s
idea,” he mumbled, only briefly meeting her eyes.

Heather laughed to
herself, as she knew her mum knew exactly what they had in mind.

Heather’s face reddened
slightly. Smiling at them both in turn, Faye hurried along the landing to where
the next room lay in wait. The moment was gone.

“Later, eh?” Ruben
smiled, and with fingers linked, they walked back down the staircase.

Wandering round
aimlessly seemed pointless. She couldn’t do a lot, and just kept bumping into
people wishing her a string of happy birthdays, her face beginning to ache from
the constant smiling. At least the annex was quiet, giving her chance to shower
and change in peace. The dress she’d chosen for the day was one she hadn’t worn
before, having ordered it from her mother’s catalogue. It wasn’t often she
found anything she liked, but this particular floral lemon dress had caught her
eye, and she kept returning to the page. Running her fingers over the soft
silky material, she held it up to the light admiringly, before hanging it from
the door of her wardrobe next to the ivory taffeta gown in readiness for the
evening. Leaving her en suite door open, enabling her to listen to her music,
she stepped under the shower’s cascading waters and contemplated the day ahead.

Drying her hair, she
decided on a high ponytail, thinking it would look rather sophisticated if she
was called up for photographs. Then she’d let it loose, and herself she
thought, but that would be later, much later. Lost in her thoughts, she hardly
heard her mum’s knock and the door opening.

“Heather, your father
wants you. The press have arrived, and there’s quite a gathering already.”

“Okay, Mum, coming,” she
replied.

Heather felt a tinge of
sadness, picturing herself waving goodbye to the life she’d known and today
would be leaving behind. She really was a country girl, and her mind was filled
for an instant with reflective memories. Selfish though it may be, she hated
the thought of change.

With a final look in
the mirror to check her hair and make-up, not forgetting the dress, she was
happy. Wearing the painted smile expected of her, she left her room.

The mayor, the Right
Honourable Mr Randolph, had already arrived; she knew it was him by the
cumbersome chain of office he wore around his neck. He was standing not far
from the main entrance, wearing a grey suit, chatting to her father and two
other men she didn’t recognise. The cameras were already positioned, and she
looked up the driveway at the procession of cars and coaches piling in. Heather
couldn’t miss Sami and Edison in their florescent orange jackets;
the
manor’s very own car park attendants
, she thought. Heather watched for a
while. The driveway leading to the manor’s steps was heaving as people vied for
the best position behind the press and cameras.

As the mayor stood
before the microphone, his speech began. Mainly he talked about the historical
background of Lushcombe and its surrounding areas, the importance the manor and
its residents had played in years gone by, and how long it had stood in their
midst, empty and in need of the TLC that had now been provided by the
Richardsons.

“I am so very proud
that, due to Walter and his family,” he continued, beckoning her father towards
him, “Lushcombe is now to be pulled from the darkness and be made a tourist
destination, which in time will bring in both work and money, beneficial to all
our local people.”

Applause rose from the
crowd, and the mayor paused briefly, allowing time for Heather, her mum, sister
and niece to join them. Walter, on locating Ruben, beckoned him forwards for
photos. Ruben held Heather’s hand, and there they all stood as one very proud
and happy family, both Heather and her mum shedding the odd tear. This was the
day that all their hard work had led up to, the grand opening of Freesdon
Manor.

“Today is a great time
for celebration; we are finally able to put Lushcombe back on the map.”

The mayor’s speech came
to an end, followed shortly by the cutting of the ribbon. The doors of the
manor opened, and with champagne-filled trays and the formalities over, the
celebrations got underway.

The wine shop needed
Ruben, and he was called away from the gardens, leaving Heather alone to mingle,
giving her the chance to get better acquainted with some of the locals. She
discovered that a few of the older ones were real characters. She also stopped
for the odd interview with reporters and journalists from local papers and
magazines. The sun shone down on the festivities and everybody appeared to be
having a wonderful time, especially the parties of school children. Even though
the school holidays were still upon them, it was far too prestigious an
occasion to miss; an event to go down in Lushcombe’s history. They all made the
most of the stalls and rides, after their guided tour around the manor. Ruben
managed to take a short break, leaving the wine shop in the capable hands of
his under manager, and joined Heather and her family for a mid-afternoon
barbeque by the lake. They sat on the grass, watching Dannika, who seemed to
love the swan boats, looking so regal as she floated past, and with it the
hours.

It must have been
around five o’clock when the final visitors left, disappearing down the driveway,
and once again the car park and grounds stood empty. The four walls of
Heather’s bedroom felt so inviting, and she sighed as she closed the door,
leaving the commotion of her family behind for a short while. She wanted to
look nice for Ruben this evening and make a special effort, like he was making
for her. She sat at her dressing table and ran the brush through her hair; the
kink from her ponytail was still visible, so she decided to use her
straighteners. Her make-up and the dress were perfect. She could hardly wait to
show it off, and for Ruben to show her off.

Taking a second glance
in the mirror, she turned one way and then the other, smiling at her
reflection; the ivory gown was stunning. As pretty as a picture, she stood like
a beautiful ballerina. It was the perfect day, and would hopefully be followed
by the perfect evening. This would be a new start for Heather Richardson.
Closing the door on her past life and memories, she left the annex in search of
Ruben.

The Final Chapter

H
eather walked into the gardens, and sensed excitement in the air.
The sounds of RnB drowned out the voices, the evening’s agenda alfresco dining.
Decorative tables were randomly dotted around, and the conservatory doors were
wide open, from which drinks and cocktails were being served. Favours, confetti
and weighted balloons decorated the tables, with the words ‘Happy Birthday’ or
‘18’ imprinted. The guests were already mingling with the staff and their
families.

Beth, wearing a green
maxi dress, sat chatting with Ruben and his mum. His eyes lit up on seeing
Heather, and he stood, holding her gaze while slowly walking towards her, Beth
now no more than an afterthought.
God he looks sexy
, Heather thought,
her heart racing, feeling like she was on fire. She’d never seen him quite the
way she was seeing him now. In a black open-neck silk shirt, which accentuated
his waist while defining his shoulders, and tailored trousers, her eyes were
drawn to places they perhaps shouldn’t have been. He never spoke, and just led
her onto the dance floor, the mood changing as they opened the evening with the
first dance. She rested her head against his chest, feeling his fingers
caressing her shoulders and on down her back. Tingling inside, she closed her
eyes and allowed herself to be swept away by the beat and soft melody.

“I’m so glad you wore
the dress, you look beautiful, and I’m the lucky man who’ll be taking it off
you later,” he whispered.

Heather blushed at his
words, but secretly she wanted him to. She needed that closeness, the warmth of
his body, but mostly she wanted to feel loved.

They left the dance
floor and entered the conservatory, which was filled with food, and a collage
of photos of Heather from birth upwards.

“Trust Mum and Dad,”
she laughed.

They both looked more
than proud as she entered, and before reaching the buffet she was passed by her
dad’s hurried steps. The microphone echoed a booming voice, and the party
gathered in anticipation. Ruben smiled, and Heather followed him back outside
towards the DJ box.

Her father began.
“I’m...” He paused, correcting himself. “I should say me and your mother are so
proud to be able to call you our daughter. It seemed not so long ago you were
eighteen months old, our little girl, all hugs and kisses, who needed us her
every waking moment. Now you’ve blossomed, your eighteen months have become
eighteen years, and from our sweet little girl, all ribbons and curls, you have
become our beautiful young lady. Heather...” His voice quivered, and she could
hear and feel his emotion. “However many years and birthdays pass, you’ll
always be Daddy’s little girl.”

Throwing her arms
around his neck, bringing back memories of the good old days, Heather said, “I
love you, Dad.”

Her eyes were hazy from
crying, and her mum’s tears intermingled with her own as she walked over to
join them. In gaining her adulthood, she felt she was losing her parents in
some small way. 

“Well, speech over,
Heather,” her dad said, clearing his throat. “I’ve got one final thing left to
do,” he said, handing her a small box. “From me and your mum.” He winked. “We
pick her up tomorrow.”

A confused Heather
lifted the lid and saw a key to a car.

“Wow! Thanks, Dad, Mum!
What is it?”

“A red Mercedes
convertible. She’s a beauty, with your own personalised number plates,” her dad
said.

Passing the microphone
to Ruben, Walter sat down.

“It’s taken a while,
but we’ve finally got here, eh, Heather? Happy birthday, darling,” he said.

With that, he slipped
his hand into the back pocket of his trousers and passed Heather an envelope.
She ripped it open impatiently. Spending Christmas in New York had always been
her dream, and now she held two tickets in her hands.

“Thank you, Ruben,
thank you so much!”

“I haven’t finished
there; I’m taking you to see the world.”

He lifted Heather off
the ground and swung her around in his arms.

Briefly she caught
sight of Beth and her uneasy expression; she had a flashback to her words:
‘Money may be Ruben’s God, but it’s not mine.’ Then just as quickly, it was
forgotten.

“The fireworks start at
eleven; meet me in the bedroom,” he whispered.

She watched, hardly
able to take her eyes off him as he walked into the conservatory, rejoining his
mum and Beth carrying a rainbow of iced cocktails served on a tray. With the
light fading and the arrival of dusk, Heather threw herself into the next
couple of dances with Amy and Dannika, making the most of her sister’s company;
she knew only too well that she’d be back with her husband in a couple of weeks
,
and who knows how long it would be until they met up again. Knowing her
sister, it’d probably be Dannika’s eighteenth. While she was lost in the dance,
Ruben slipped away unnoticed.

The partying continued
as darkness crept in, an abundance of multi-coloured fairy lights dancing in
the breeze. The bedroom and Ruben lay in wait; there was no hesitation on
Heather’s part, for tonight she knew where she wanted to be. The crackling open
flame torches created a lighted walkway that led her back towards the manor.
The door creaked in welcome as she walked into the hallway, where empty tables
lay. Flickering candlelight brightened the stairway. Somehow she could never
bring herself to feel at ease as she climbed, each step bringing back memories
that needed to be left in the past. She didn’t dare glance at the portrait,
though the clock’s chime was unmistakable, and with it the triumphant sound of
fireworks gracing the night sky. The bedroom door was closed, but Heather knew
what awaited her, wondering if it boded well.

The room was much the
same as usual. Ruben’s handsome silhouette turned towards her from the open
window, beckoning her to him for a private light show of fireworks. Heather
leant forwards, her elbows resting on the sill; a meeting of warm breaths. With
no impairment of view, she felt his arms around her waist as vivid colours
played in the darkening clouds in an explosion of kaleidoscopic patterns. Ruben
brushed her hair from behind her ears.

“I want you, Heather,”
he whispered. “No, it’s more than that. Look on the bed.”

The shape of a pink
heart was made from the sweetest of rose petals, inside which lay a small box,
the shadows concealing its identity.

“I’ve saved my special
present for you, away from prying eyes,” he said, his voice low. “These last
few minutes before your birthday passes are precious moments that I’ll never
let you forget.”

His hand reached into
the middle of the bed, removing the box.

“I want you to be mine,
forever.” He knelt and took Heather’s hand, lifting the lid.

“This is for you,
darling.”

She looked down,
feeling an awkward tension throughout her body. How could she commit her life
to somebody to whom she wasn’t committed? Yes she knew she felt something,
which eventually may grow stronger, but as to what, and how deep, she needed
time. As she stood in thought, Ruben’s eyes searched hers for an answer.

“Is something wrong?”
He frowned, surprised by her non-committal response. “I’ve done everything
right,” he insisted. She could hear the sincerity in his voice followed by
disappointment. “I asked ya dad, got his permission this morning in the wine
shop.”

She couldn’t fault his
efforts on this occasion, and yes, he may have done everything right, yet as
she stood looking into his eyes, everything felt so very wrong. Knowing
decisions made in haste often led to regret, her thoughts drifted back to
Frank’s proposal.

“Ruben, I wasn’t
expecting this, it’s come as such a shock.”

“My instinct was to
wait for Christmas,” Ruben added, explaining himself, “our flight out to New
York. I know you love romance, and what could possibly have been more romantic
than an engagement on the other side of the world? But I so wanted to make
tonight, your night, extra special and show you how very much you mean to me,
and four months seemed so far away.” He continued, “I know you’ve worn it once
before, but this time it’s for keeps.”

She leant down towards
him. “I can’t give you an answer, not now. I do love you, but what you’re
asking of me is a commitment for life. I just need time.”

“Fine, take as long as
you need,” Ruben said, standing, awkwardly closing the lid on the box.

Heather sighed,
thankful for his understanding, knowing she’d need weeks, maybe longer, to
reach her decision.

“I’ll be here waiting
for you, waiting for you to come back with your answer.”

He lay back on the bed,
his eyes like the hands of a ticking clock. She gulped and took a deep breath,
for she knew he wanted her answer later that night.

She’d never wanted to
escape from anywhere quite as fast as she closed the door behind her, and felt
stifled by the pressure he bestowed on her. The only place she knew she could
think and clear her head was the lake. Nature’s friend, who only listened and
never questioned, and had always been there.

Outside, she was met by
the scent of gunpowder, the fireworks’ way of leaving their calling card. She
re-entered the garden; the background music was still playing, though the party
had died down considerably. She couldn’t be doing with people, not now, so
bypassing any remnants of her eighteenth, she headed to the tranquil cool
waters. Cossetted between the long grasses, she lay down, the full moon looking
as lost and lonely in the sky as she herself felt.

“Oh, Florence, if only
you were here. You were such a lovely sister, and I know you’d have known what
to do. I can’t marry him, I just can’t,” she blurted out loud.

Tonight had brought
with it a cold realisation that whatever Ruben did, however long he shared her
life, he could and would never compare, not even to the ghost of Frank’s
memory. And she wondered if her forever could really be spent with second best,
when what she really yearned for more than anything was the fairytale, and now
more than ever.

Her
eyelids felt heavy, and closing them on the world she lay contemplating her
life, trying so hard to envision her future with Ruben in it, playing the
leading part. However, no matter
how many acts or scenarios she imagined him in, she just couldn’t see there
being a happy ending, and the only person she was really fooling was herself.
The ring came to mind and she smiled, though the smile that took to her lips
was bittersweet. The ring would never be a band of love, only a band of
control, not only tightening around her finger but around her life. There was
something compelling her to return, over and over again, but she couldn’t make
any more excuses for him.

Her
youth and vulnerability brushed away, her eyes had finally opened for the first
time, and she was looking at Ruben critically through a woman’s eyes. Heather
sat lost in unsettling thoughts, of how easily she’d been sucked in to his
manly charms and the whirlwind of romance. All Ruben had ever been to her was
an escape from the lonely existence she had led. When he walked into her life
she was at an all-time low and needed somebody, and he just happened to be
there. Untimely maybe, but it worked for a while; it had taken till now,
though, for her to see clearly, and now Heather was suddenly hit by the
sobering realisation that being single, on her own, really was the better of
the two evils. And yes, she would take her sister up on her offer of a holiday
away from Ruben and Freesdon Manor, for Heather knew it was the break she
needed.

A hand touched her
shoulder, and her heart beat erratically. He couldn’t even allow her that small
privilege of time, she thought. Though in her heart it really didn’t matter,
for she knew what she had to do. Ruben’s ring was never meant for her finger.

“Ruben...”

“I am afraid not.”

It couldn’t be...
She opened her eyes.

“Frank!”

Her words were lost
against his chest. She’d never longed for anything as much as to feel herself
in his arms again, and yet here she was. Her tears were of happiness and
relief.

“God, Frankie, I don’t
know where to start,” Heather rambled. “Where have you been? I’m so sorry, I
never meant to turn you down; I was thinking of the inheritance, Florence and...”

“Miss Richardson ...
Heather,” Frank interrupted, “we have very little time. You must listen to what
I have to say.”

“But how is it
possible? I saw you die. The gunshot, the pillow ... I’m holding a ghost,” she
sobbed. “Why do you torment me?”

“No, Heather,
fortunately for you I never died that night. Please allow me to explain.”

Heather’s eyes widened.
Sitting beside her, he continued.

“You, a young girl at
thirteen years of age, myself a mere boy of seventeen, for the very briefest of
moments our worlds came together, and for this I have no explanation.”

She smiled. “Maybe
time’s way of allowing our formal introduction.”

“I believe you may be
right.” Frank’s voice was heartfelt and sincere. “Years later, again you graced
my life, though now as a woman, a very beautiful woman. However, my dear, you
ailed, taken with amnesia.”

“Oh, Frankie,” Heather
laughed, “I never had amnesia.”

“I know this to be true
now,” he said, gently taking her by the hand. “You captivated my heart from
that moment onwards.”

“But I rejected you so
cruelly. How could I have been so bloody stupid?”

“Yes, Heather, I am
afraid you did. You walked out of my life, leaving me a broken man. I did as
you requested of me that very night, at the masquerade.”

Heather shuddered at
the thought of him and Anna together.

“I saw everything,” she
said, thinking back. “I saw her leave the room, and I saw you die that night.”