When I opened my eyes, everything was dark.
My heart was still racing. I took a deep breath. It always amazed me to know what my body was capable of. It hurtled through time and space like a comet.
But sometimes I felt like it was not my own. Like it belonged to the universe and not to me.
I studied my new surroundings carefully. I was sitting in a small, confined space. I thought it might have been a closet or a wardrobe. Long dresses and fur coats hung over my head. Beyond them, I noticed a sliver of light. I pressed my hand to the nearest wall and peered through the opening.
I was inside a room I was not familiar with. The walls were a light green, fringed with white. Most of the furniture was made of wood. There was even a bed. It was so sparse I had to assume it was a guest room of some kind. I nudged the door open wider.
This room could be anywhere. Before I could investigate further, the doorknob began to turn.
I froze in place. It was imperative that I not be discovered. I had one too many tangles with the police during my travels. I did not want to be arrested for trespassing.
Other than the physical implications of being caught, there were future consequences to consider as well.
The door opened and a middle-aged woman stepped inside. She was dressed so . . . oddly. Her black dress billowed down to her feet, and the sleeves were long. Her gray hair was piled on top of her head and secured by a white cap. She looked like she belonged in an old movie.
I watched, fascinated, as she pulled a duster from her apron and half-heartedly cleaned the nearest table.
She was a maid. No one in my family ever had a maid.
Her dusting slowed as she retrieved a newspaper from her apron. She stood reading for a long moment before leaving it behind, closing the door as she went.
I counted to ten and pushed the wardrobe door open. I turned back to study my hiding place. The dresses were different in the light of day. I examined one of them curiously.
It was a long dress like the maid wore, but the quality was different. This was tailored for someone with money.
This trip was getting stranger by the minute. I went to the door and locked it, then hurried over to the newspaper. A theory was forming in my mind, but I refused to give into it until I had proof.
"The Chicago Tribune: August 3, 1908."
Still disbelieving, I let the paper slip through my fingers. There was a window on the far wall. I ran to it, standing on tiptoe to see the outside world.
What I saw was not my world.
In the street below, I saw women in dresses like the ones in the wardrobe. They donned hats and delicate gloves. I saw men in slacks and vests, walking down the sidewalks in freshly polished shoes. Perhaps most fascinating of all, I saw horsecars.
This had to be a movie set. There was no other explanation.
Maybe I had tumbled from the wardrobe to a magical world, but this place looked more like America than Narnia.
I allowed myself two minutes of unbridled panic. Never in my ten years of traveling had I been dragged so far from my own time. Typically, I landed in places somehow related to me. In the past, I've seen my parents marry a dozen times, been at the hospital on the night of my birth, and even watched myself disappear for the first time.
But I had no connection to this place. I had been dumped here, alone and friendless, nearly hundred years from home.
My two minutes were up. It was time for me to adapt.
I was at a disadvantage in this time. The 1980s and 90s were not far from my own present. Navigating those decades was easy. In 1908, I'd stick out like a sore thumb. My clothes, my hair, even my manner of speech would indicate an outsider.
My assignment was to blend in seamlessly. The only way to do that was to look like everyone else.
My gaze returned to the wardrobe. Women in 1908 wore those old fashioned dresses I discovered in there. The t-shirt and pajama pants I wore now would be regarded as inappropriate.
Thirty minutes later, I somehow managed to wriggle into a gray frock. My hair wasn't up to the same standard as the maid, but there was little I could do about that. There was a pair of shoes in the lowest drawer; I took them and stashed my pajamas in their place. Silently, I thanked the woman who lived here. She had done me a real service.
The hallway was empty. I guessed that I was in some sort of basement level. I had to move quickly but quietly. There was that maid to think about, in addition to the owners of the house.
Everything went smoothly until I reached the top of the stairs. The front door had been in my sights; I was so relieved, I didn't hear the footsteps behind me.
"Can I help you, miss?"
The maid from downstairs stood in the foyer; her eyes were narrowed.
I folded my arms, momentarily thrown. I needed an excuse to be here. Something to convince her to let me be on my way. A flush spread across my cheeks as the silence lengthened.
Before I could speak, a boy bounded into the room. He was seven or eight years old. His green eyes stared up at me in excitement.
"Hello! Are you my new nanny?"
"Beg your pardon?"
"Mother said that she was going to hire a nanny today."
"I'm . . . inquiring about the position, yes."
The gears started turning in my head. It was hardly the excuse I was looking for, but I wasn't about to complain. If they hired me, even briefly, I could stay in the house. The streets would not be as forgiving. Without money, I was no better than a vagrant.
I had some babysitting experience. Could a few decades change the way we minded children?
"Edward, don't bother the girl," the maid snapped. "Why don't you find your mother? She'll be waiting to conduct the interview."
"Why don't you go find her?"
I saw an opening and seized it. "Yes, that sounds like a good idea. I'll entertain him until then."
It was two against one. I waited until her footsteps died away before I turned back to the boy. "Edward, was it?"
"Yes, ma'am," he said formally. "Edward Anthony Masen Junior. Pleasure to meet you."
"Pleasure to meet you as well," I laughed. "My name is Bella Swan."
"Let's go, Miss Bella," Edward beamed, his solemnity forgotten. He took my hand. I let him lead me through the house to the parlor, where several toys were strewn around the room. He urged me to sit down, then explained that we were going to play charades. I pretended to be ignorant of the rules to collect my thoughts.
This trip was definitely the most unusual one so far. But I had been in difficult situations before. It was all about adapting to the challenge.
Edward Masen was a boy in need of nanny. His mother, a Mrs. Masen, was searching for a woman to take the job. In the three minutes that he took to explain the game, I cobbled together a backstory. It didn't matter if it was 1908 or 2004; no woman would hire a stranger to mind her son.
Fifteen minutes later, we were still playing and I was nervous. I didn't have anything with me—no resume, no identification, nothing to prove my existence at all. I knew employment interviews weren't the same as the ones at home, but nevertheless, my stomach was knotted with nerves.
"Soldier, I'm a soldier," Edward was saying in exasperation. He had been thrashing around on the floor, miming a gunshot wound to the chest. "Haven't you played this game before?"
"I'm not very good at it, Edward. Try again, I'll get it this time."
"Okay, I'll—hello, Mother!"
I stood up immediately, clasping my hands behind my back. With a start, I remembered that I stole the dress from downstairs. I prayed fervently she wouldn't recognize it.
Mrs. Masen was a beautiful woman. She and Edward both had the same hair color. It was a strange, reddish-brown shade. Her eyes were a striking green. It was clear where the boy got his good looks from. When she reached us, she smiled at me and extended her hand.
"Good afternoon, I'm Elizabeth Masen."
"Afternoon, Mrs. Masen," I said politely. "My name is Bella Swan."
Edward leapt from the floor and flung his arms around my waist. "Mother, I want her as my nanny!"
"Edward, darling, let the girl breathe. Go find Alberta and tell her lunch starts at one o'clock."
The boy dashed out of the room, hooting all the while. Elizabeth watched him go and chuckled. Then she motioned for me to sit down. "Bella is lovely name. Is it short for something?"
"Isabella, ma'am," I answered, blushing. "A nickname I owe to my father."
"Is he with you? He must seen my bulletin in the paper."
I struggled to keep my expression empty. Renee always said I was a bad liar.
"Oh, yes, Mrs. Masen. He actually sent me here in his place; we're new in town, you see. He's still in . . . St. Louis. Supervising the move, you know."
"He sent you alone?" Elizabeth's eyebrows raised. "He must trust you very much."
"Yes, ma'am. After my mother passed, he placed many responsibilities on me."
We talked for a few more minutes. Time travel made me somewhat of an expert in composing histories. I kept my answers as simple as possible. She appeared to be satisfied with them.
"Well Miss Swan, you seem like a very responsible young lady. You can stay here until your father arrives in Chicago. Edward seems to love you already."
"He's a bright boy, Mrs. Masen," I said shyly. It seemed like the right thing to say—and it was true.
"Oh my dear, please call me Elizabeth," she laughed. It was a nice laugh, tinkling and sweet. "Mrs. Masen is my mother-in-law, and she detests me."
We laughed together. Inwardly, I was sighing with relief. There were gaping holes in my story. She must have known that. But she hired me anyway, and I started to believe I could actually pull this off.
"Let me show you to your room," she said kindly, taking my arm. I expected her to turn for the servant's quarters, but she led me to the grand staircase. We passed the master bedroom, Edward's room, and finally, what was to be my room.
"I keep this room for when my niece visits," Elizabeth explained. She walked to the wardrobe and pulled out a dress for me to admire. "The two of you are about the same size. She won't mind at all."
"You're very gracious," I murmured, lowering my eyes. "Thank you."
"It's no trouble, dear. I'll leave this one out for dinner. Now, come with me."
We returned to the parlor and her tone became businesslike. Elizabeth outlined what was expected of me. It was summer, and she wanted Edward out of the house as much as possible. She was the leader of many charities and social engagements in Chicago, and these kept her very busy. In layman's terms, I was supposed to entertain Edward and make sure he got home in time for dinner. It seemed easy enough. In the back of my mind, I still could not believe this was real.
"Mother!" Edward burst into the room. "Alberta says lunch is on the table."
"Thank you, sweetheart," she smiled indulgently. It was clear that she loved to spoil her son; from what I could tell, he was an only child. But Edward wasn't spoiled. Maybe a little precocious, but a dear nonetheless.
"Miss Bella is going to be your new nanny. Do I have your word, as a gentleman, that you will behave and listen to her?"
"You have my word," he said seriously. I believed him.
The three of us went to the dining room to eat. Alberta, as it turned out, was the maid I had met earlier. Her lips pursed when she saw me sitting at the table. But there was nothing she could do.
Time travel always made me hungry. I ate steadily throughout the meal but watched my new charge and his mother. He was telling her about his latest piano lesson. That boy could have been talking about dirt and she still would have been enraptured. It made me miss my own mother. I stared down at my plate.
"Mother, may I take Bella to the park?"
He was looking at the two of us pleadingly. I fought a smile. This job was going to both easy and fun.
Elizabeth glanced at me, amused. "Bella, would you mind terribly if Edward took you to the park?"
I giggled. "Not at all, ma'am."
While Edward hunted for a hat, Elizabeth gave me one of my own and a light shawl. When we made our way out the door, she passed me a dime in case Edward wanted something sweet. She watched us from the stoop until we rounded the corner. We waved, then were out of her sight.
It was a beautiful day. Edward took my hand again and swung it as we walked. It was nice not to worry about food or shelter for a change. I tilted my head back to let the sun reach my face.
"Why did you move to Chicago, Bella?"
"My father wanted a change of scenery," I invented. I really didn't know how to speak to him. He was a child like any other but this was a different time. Generations separated us. So much history that hadn't happened yet. In my time, he'd be over one hundred years old.
"Maybe he'll find you a husband!" Edward snickered. He paused to kick a rock with his shoe.
"A husband?" I repeated, mystified. "What for?"
"To get married of course! You're very pretty. I think you should have hundreds of suitors."
I watched him blush from his neck to the roots of his copper hair. "Thank you, Edward. Um . . . I don't know if he's searching for one yet. We only just moved here."
He mumbled something about "if I was older" and reached for his hat; the wind had blown it off his head.
I changed the subject. "So what do you like to do?"
"Piano," he said instantly. "I want to be a musician. Well, after I serve in the military."
"The military? How old are you, Edward?"
"Seven. I only have to wait eleven years for the draft."
He made eleven years sound like a blink of an eye. I laughed. "Any other plans for the future?"
For the first time, he frowned. "Father wants me to go into law like him. But I think that's boring."
The rest of the afternoon flew by. A fair had come to town near the park and it commanded his full attention. There were street dancers, jugglers, even caged, grumpy animals. He liked the lions the best. When the sun dipped low in the sky, I reminded him about dinner. Reluctantly, he took my hand. We went back the way we came, swinging our hands all the while.
After I returned the hat and shawl, I went to my new room to change for dinner. Anxiety hit me again. I managed to win over Elizabeth and Edward, but Edward Senior was another story.
But to my relief, Edward's father was indifferent. He was polite at dinner, of course, welcoming me into his home. He seemed distracted, though, and I wondered if he was thinking of work. To him, I was just another servant.
I didn't mind at all. The less friction I faced in the Masen home, the better.
My days with the Masens wove together like a rope. I thought it was all an extended dream. I would lay awake in bed, anticipating the pull back to my own time.
It never came.
I was in a different century. No friends or family, no resources, not even the right to vote. When I did manage to fall asleep, nightmares haunted me. I feared growing old here and never seeing my parents again.
Those nights were the worst. I'd wake up in tears, turning my head into the pillow to hide the noise. In the evenings, despair and loneliness were my constant companions. I could see the dark circles forming under my eyes. I was thinner, too.
But I trudged on. I always did. Life had thrown me a curveball and I was not about to give up.
Two weeks went by; that fact itself was astonishing. I never spent this long in the past. The longest trip back had been three days in Forks, watching my parents fret over my newborn self. I hid in the closet during the day and snuck downstairs for food at night.
But I knew I was lucky to land in the Masen home. They had taken me in. Edward was an adorable child, and his mother was sweet at every turn. They treated me like one of their own. Even Alberta stopped scowling at me after the first three days. Despite my worries, life here was going smoothly.
When I woke up this morning, Elizabeth and her husband were already gone. They had a number of obligations during the day. I dressed myself and made my way to Edward's room.
He was not a morning person. I escorted the grumpy kid downstairs for breakfast, where his mood rapidly improved.
To our dismay, it started to rain. We had planned to have a picnic in the park. Now we had to find something else to do. Edward hung his head when I announced our change of plans. He perked up again when he found his toys in the parlor, and spent most of the morning occupied with them.
I was reading the Tribune when the first warning of time travel made itself known. My hand dropped to my heart; it was beating very fast. I winced. My trips were mostly painless. Today was different. I assumed it was because I was so far from my own time. More energy was required to get back.
"Edward?" I called. "Will you come here, please?"
He had been zooming around the house with a carved, wooden bird. "Yes?"
I took his hand. "Let's go to your room for a moment, I want to show you something."
Edward obediently followed me there. His attention was still focused on his bird, but soon it would solely be on me. When the door was shut securely, I cleared my throat.
"Do you believe in time travel, Edward?"
"Like in A Christmas Carol? Father reads that aloud every Christmas Eve."
"Yes, exactly like A Christmas Carol."
"Why not?" he shrugged.
His naivety charmed me. "Then you'll be pleased to know that I am a time traveler."
"Really?"
Black spots appeared in my vision. I blinked them away. It wouldn't be long now.
"Yes. I've seen the future. I'm from there and it's marvelous. I know certain things are going to happen."
His eyes narrowed. Perhaps not so naive after all. "Like what?"
"Um . . . hmm. Okay. Four years from now, in 1912, a ship called the Titanic will sink."
"Why?"
"It hit an iceberg," I managed to say through a twinge of pain. I knelt to his eye level. "I'm going to time travel any minute now."
"Right now?" Edward said excitedly. "When will you be back?"
"I don't know," I said hesitantly. "Possibly never."
His face fell. "Why?"
"I'm not from here, Edward. I can't control it, it just happens. It's a sickness."
His green eyes were brimming with tears. "I don't want you to go!"
I realized my own eyes were wet. I cupped his face in my hands. "I don't want to go, either. But can you do something for me, Edward?"
"Anything."
"Don't tell your mother and father about this," I said quietly. "Please."
I felt so guilty. I had no control over my condition, but I felt guilty for leaving them behind. I felt guilty for telling Edward, too. It did me no good to confide in a little boy.
But in my heart, I wanted at least one Masen to know I enjoyed my time here. That I appreciated their kindness in more ways than they could imagine.
"They would be sad if they knew I was leaving. It will be our little secret."
He nodded bravely. "I won't say a word. But . . . I'll miss you, Bella."
"I'll miss you, too." I meant it. "Maybe I'll see you again one day."
"I hope so," he sniffled.
I knew the trip back was only seconds away. I dropped my hands and made him back away from me. The distance between us had never been so wide. His hands were in fists at his sides.
"One more minute, Edward. Watch me."
He never looked away. The light illuminated the room, and the last thing I saw was Edward, his eyes bright with wonder and amazement.
My vision faded and everything was gone again.
A|N: Hey all, I just wanted to thank everyone for the response to the first chapter. I hope you enjoy the second installment!
I've been part of the Twilight fandom for a few years. Sometimes I get sad or nostalgic that the Twifics aren't being posted to the degree I was used to in high school. But I guess that's inevitable with any fandom. What's my solution? Posting my stories and reading as many fics as I can!
I've completed and edited 32 chapters of Number Our Days. It will be updated every Wednesday.
Looking forward to your comments and predictions!