Timeless Heart (5 page)

As they walked into the living room, the sounds
of destruction, bombs and screaming filled the room. Oh hell, of
all things, the opening scenes of Saving Private Ryan. It couldn’t
be a gardening show, no, he managed to turn on the television
during one of the bloodiest, disturbing images ever put to
film.

“Utter slaughter! What is this
deviltry?”

Sandra motioned to the couch, “Have a seat,
Jerrod, I’ll try to explain.”

She reached for the remote on the coffee table
and quickly changed the channel, it landed on CBC News Network. She
turned down the volume and turned to face him. The poor man still
looked bewildered and dismayed.

Jarrod sat down, his brow was furrowed in
confusion at the numerous images that passed by his vision as
Sandra channel surfed through the hundreds of stations on her
satellite dish.

She tried to explain the concept. It was
make-believe, like never-ending plays, intersected with news of the
day and sporting events.

She observed myriad emotions cross Jerrod's
face: horror, confusion and astonishment as he watched the progress
of on-going wars, political upheaval and arguments, floods,
killings, protests. Sandra tried to turn it from the news channel
but he held up his hand, halting her.

He watched.

"So, this is the world today. It is moving far
too fast. I could not live in this time," he said softly. "Please,
turn it off. I cannot absorb anymore. Your world, it has such
beauty and so many horrors." Jerrod slowly shook his head, staring
off in bewilderment.

Sandra snapped it off with the remote. "It’s a
turbulent time."

"Anytime in history could be categorized as
such. You are a teacher, Sandra, is this not true?"

She shrugged. "I suppose. But it can be
overwhelming, even for the sturdiest of us." She paused. "Maybe we
could go for a drive, into Halifax, it’s only about an hour from
here. You should see more than the inside of this flat.”

He raised an eyebrow. "Halifax...my God. My
father fought against the colonial uprising here in the Americas in
1780. He was injured, he recovered in Halifax, took the ship home
from there. Astounding." His voice trailed off, lost in thought. "I
should very much like to see it."

"You mean the Revolutionary War?"

"Yes, I surmise there has been much war since,"
he replied sadly.

Sandra sighed. "You don’t want to know. Come
on. Let's go into the city for a while."

They arrived in downtown Halifax. No sooner had
they approached the black wrought iron main gates of the Public
Gardens than a soft, late summer shower began to fall.

"Oh, damn it!" Sandra cried.

Jerrod laughed. "Such language for a lady. It
is no matter, the rain reminds me very much of Cornwall, reminds me
of home. It will not hurt us. Come, let us enjoy the
afternoon."

Sandra smiled. "My language? For a gentleman
from the past, I've heard far worse come from you, from the first
time I saw you!"

He reached down and took her hand, his thumb
caressing her skin, setting it alight. "What do you think, people
in your past did not curse, have dark thoughts? Make passionate
love?"

Sandra looked at him, and laughed along with
him. God, his laugh was deep, and sexy as hell. But that last part
set her ablaze. Passionate. Yes, she imagined he was all that, and
more. Sandra pulled herself closer to him as they
walked.

They strolled in companionable silence. Sandra
watched as Jerrod looked all around him, taking in the beautifully
situated gardens, the lush flowers of every sort bordering
fountains and statuaries, surrounded by large elm trees.

"Gardens such as these in the middle of the
city? How long have they been here?"

"Since Queen Victoria's time." She saw the look
of puzzlement on his face. "Who was ruling in 1821?"

"George the sixth,” Jerrod sniffed in
distaste.

Sandra reached back in her mind, through her
history lessons. "Victoria was after William, she was his niece.
William was younger brother to George, wasn’t he? Anyway, she
spawned a whole era, the Victorian Age. She ruled over sixty years,
it was the age of 'British Greatness'."

They walked along again in silence. The rain
was soft, like a cool caress.

"This was a capital idea, Sandra, very serene."
Jerrod was interrupted by an older couple quarreling on a nearby
bench. "Well, very nearly serene."

Sirens wailed as an ambulance went speeding
down the street, followed by a fire rescue truck. "God's blood,
what is that racket?"

Sandra smiled almost indulgently. "Someone in
distress, an ambulance and rescue truck have been dispatched. They
use the sirens to get traffic…ah...the other automobiles to get out
of the way and let them through."

The more time she spent with Jerrod the more
she was convinced he really was from another time. His reactions to
the world around him were not rehearsed, or fake in any way. When
she bought him an ice cream cone from the Public Gardens canteen,
he gave a look of pure joy at the first taste, like a little
boy.

They sat on a park bench, well hidden by the
linden and elm trees. It gave them some shelter from the light rain
and privacy from other people, not that there were that many in the
gardens today, due to the weather. She watched Jerrod’s face, a
whole range of feelings played out on his handsome countenance.
Obvious pleasure in the surroundings, but his brow was furrowed as
if deep in thought. Sandra had never been with a man who showed his
emotions so readily. There was nothing fake or counterfeit in his
dealings with her. How refreshing. Men usually had an agenda, or
that had been her experience so far.

"Have you thought of a way to return me to my
time?" he asked softly, jarring her from her thoughts.

Actually, she had. She explained to Jerrod,
mostly to placate him, that her good friend from university, Brian
Talbot, was a professor at St. Mary's University in Halifax and
that she would call him tomorrow. Brian oozed science, lived and
breathed it. Surely he would have an answer. It couldn't hurt to
ask. Maybe she needed to be told, in no uncertain terms, that this
whole time travel theory was garbage. Or not.

****

Jerrod reclined and spread his arms out on the
back of the park bench as he listened intently to Sandra explain
that she would contact her professor friend. He thought surely, as
a man of science in this advanced world, this Brian would have
answers to his dilemma. But the more Jerrod thought about going
home, the heavier his heart became. It had only been a couple days,
but this wonderful girl had somehow managed to breach the walls of
his unused heart. It astounded him. He had been closed off for so
long.

Jerrod could not help himself, he put his arm
around Sandra. He knew such public displays were frowned upon, but
from what he saw on that television contraption, not in this
age.

His feelings for her were growing at a
surprising rate, but he could not form any attachments, he would be
leaving. He had to get back, whatever it took.

Jerrod exhaled deeply. Her curves were a
perfect fit for his arms, a perfect fit for his body. He could feel
the blood rushing to his cock already. Through the years, he’d not
had many serious entanglements. He was no callow, untried youth.
When he visited Truro, he saw to his needs. But this was different,
and for that, all the more troubling. He pulled Sandra close to his
swiftly beating heart. Yes, far more troubling. He was falling for
her, but he did not want to stay here. He could not stay
here.

But Sandra was not troubling at all. She was
warm, beautiful, vivacious, and caring. When he looked into her
blue gray eyes he did not see coldness or distance or a reason to
leave. He saw music and laughter. She was becoming more than a
temptation he could no longer ignore. He was startled at the
realization he was falling for her. Why else should he wax
poetic?

Jerrod looked around, they were well hidden.
They were also quite alone. He leaned down, his lips touching hers
ever so softly. It was his undoing, just that slight, soft meshing
of their lips. He heard Sandra gasp softly from the contact, her
gasp turned to a deep throated, desirous moan. It spurred him
forward, that resonance of yearning he heard catch in her throat,
it matched his own longings. His hand gripped the back of her head
as he began to ravish her mouth quite thoroughly, his tongue
invading her, tasting every inch of her.

He heard Sandra moan louder. She threw her arms
around his neck and kissed him back with relish, her tongue dancing
seductively with his. And his body reacted, hardening to the point
of pain. He pulled her over into his lap and she gasped at the
contact with his swollen erection, straining against that damned
zipper.

He couldn't stop himself. He thrust his hips
upward as he continued to plunder her sweet lips and mouth. God, he
wanted her. He
ached
. These feelings, he had not had them
for years, maybe never had them.

The need, to kiss her so hard, to take her
breath away. To possess the very inner softness of her, to thrust
the most painful part of him into her, to the hilt. To claim her,
as his own, right here, on this damned wooden bench, in the private
shelter of the trees and shrubs, as a soft, cool rain fell across
their overheated bodies. The insistent throb of his cock was urging
him onward. Public park be damned! It all added to the excitement,
that possibility of discovery.

Jerrod was no stranger to assignations in
public spaces. He briefly thought of the many quick fucks he’d had
in dark alleys and back rooms. Hard, fast, and against a wall with
nameless women of questionable reputation. That’s how he had always
liked it before, no attachments.

His hand moved down and cupped one of her
breasts. It was large, heavy, full. The nipple was straining
against her sweater, as if it had a life of its own, trying to leap
into his hand on its own volition.

He tore his mouth from her swollen lips and
quickly locked his lips on her nipple, right through the sweater,
and the undergarment she wore. He could feel it, pebbled, erect.
Sandra threw back her head and groaned: a long, guttural sound that
ignited his passion even more.

He pulled the v-neck sweater downward,
stretching it as much as he could, her ample cleavage on full
display. He laid hot, passionate kisses all along the tops of her
breasts before trying to get her breast out of the cup-like garment
she was wearing. Damme! He was making a muddle of his
seduction!

Sandra reached down inside her sweater, and
touched the front of the undergarment. "Let me..." she whispered.
“It has a front clasp."

"How delightfully convenient," he replied
huskily.

Now free from all constraints, she held her
breast up for him, as if she were offering it as a gift, a
tempting, tantalizing dessert. Though sheltered, they were still in
a public space and he did not care, and apparently, neither did
Sandra. Bold minx, that just hardened his cock even
more.

He took her breast from her trembling hand,
held it, caressed it. His thumb brushing over the nipple, he slowly
lowered his head, almost reverent. He blew gently on the nipple,
and Sandra moaned. Deliberately, languidly, he took as much of her
ample breast into his mouth as he could, licking, sucking,
kissing.

Her hands were roaming through his hair,
pulling and grasping, loosening it from its cue. She gripped
fistfuls of his hair, pulling him even closer. She leaned down to
his ear, "Suck it...hard," she purred.

He almost spilled himself into his trousers, or
jeans or whatever they were, at that moment. Would he take her
right here on the bench? His fevered brain could not say, but
thankfully through the fog of desire, he heard voices growing
closer.

Reluctantly, he lifted his head, and let go of
the most luscious breast he had ever clamped lips or eyes on. He
let go of her sweater and gently pulled upward, covering her. He
rested his forehead against hers. His breath was labored, his face
flushed. He slowly raised his head, and looked at her.

An older couple walked by, arm in arm, no doubt
the quarreling pair on the bench they had seen earlier.

"They seemed to have reconciled," he said
softly. The couple did not even see them.

Jerrod looked into Sandra’s face. It was
flushed, she was aroused as much as he was. Her lips were swollen
from his aggressive kisses. Her eyes were wide, alive, full of
desire.

He took her hand lifted it to his mouth, and
kissed it gently. Sandra's eyes fluttered shut, her lips parted
slightly and she wetted them with her tongue. A look of ardent
desire spread over her beautiful face. He resolved to do that
regularly for as long as he was here.

A pain tore through his heart.
As long as he
was here.

Could he let this go any further? For he knew
if he took her to his bed, he would never want her to leave
it.

And he would never want to leave
her.