What if I Fall: The Pocket Watch Chronicles
Table of Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Epilogue
What if I Fall
The Pocket Watch Chronicles
By
Ceci Giltenan
This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, locations and dialogues in this book are of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is completely coincidental. Any actual locations mentioned in this book are used fictitiously.
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author.
All rights are retained by the author. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval
system, without permission in writing from the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. The unauthorized reproduction, sharing, or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to five years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.
Copyright 2017 by Ceci Giltenan
www.duncurra.com
Cover Design: Earthly Charms
ISBN-10: 1-942623-65-8
ISBN-13: 978-1-942623-65-6
Produced in the USA
Dedication
To Lily Baldwin, without whom I would still be staring at the screen trying to write this book. Thank you for helping awaken my muse again and pulling me out of the block I found myself in. You are one of the very bright lights in my life and I adore you.
And, to my soulmate, my beloved husband, Eamon.
Acknowledgements
Thank you to my friend, Author H.D. Smith for the late night chat about possibilities that gave birth to The Choice, in which What if I Fall was originally published.
Thank you to my friend Anne Dalton, Esquire, Attorney at Law and Mediator, for explaining some of the nuances of inheritance and wrongful death lawsuits.
I owe another thank you to my friend and former colleague, Dr. Brian Murphy, MD, MPH, FIDSA, who once again helped make sure the emergency medical details were accurate.
Table of Contents
Dedication
Acknowledgements
Table of Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Epilogue
About The Author
Other Books by Ceci Giltenan
About Duncurra
Other titles published by Duncurra LLC
“One’s philosophy is not best expressed in words; it is expressed in the choices one makes…and the choices we make are ultimately our responsibility.”
~ Eleanor Roosevelt
Prologue
The place you find yourself
Now
Gertrude walked into the room and smiled. “Hello. Do ye mind if I come in?”
No response.
“Ye there…yes ye, reading this book. Do ye mind if I come in?” Gertrude smiled at the reader’s perplexed expression. “Surprised I’m here for a chat, are ye? Ye mean a character in a book has never spoken to ye before? Well, I guess I can understand that. It’s a bit like breaking the fourth wall, isn’t it—like a television character speaking directly to ye from the screen? It simply isn’t done.” Gertrude chuckled. Clearly, the fact that something simply isn’t done, didn’t bother her in the least.
“Or maybe we’ve had this chat before. My memory can be a bit spotty at times. In any event, I do apologize if ye’re finding this a bit awkward, but I really do need to speak with ye, and I promise I won’t stay long. Just keep right on reading. Frankly, if ye ever want me to leave, ye’ll have to keep reading to get past this bit.”
The old woman glanced about, taking in her surroundings. “Lovely place ye’ve got here.” She chuckled again. “No, pet, I’m not talking about the space around ye—I can’t see that. This brain and consciousness of yers is absolutely remarkable. It allows ye to open a book and be transported into it. It affords ye limitless possibilities. ‘Tis yer mind that gives me life and form. Yer imagination very literally wills me into existence. So while, ye’re at it, ye wouldn’t mind shaving a few pounds off me would ye? Think of me as a stately—but svelt—elegant, mature woman of indeterminate age. That’s it, pet. Now, if ye don’t mind, could ye imagine a full-length mirror, so I can see myself?”
Without warning, at the mere mention of the word mirror, one appeared. “That’s the ticket.” She perused her reflection. “Well, it isn’t exactly what I had in mind, but then ‘tis what suits yer sensibilities, so I’ll take it.”
She glanced over her shoulder. “Upon my word, where did that pink elephant come from? There, ye saw it too, didn’t ye?” Gertrude laughed. “Oh, pet, I was just having one over on ye. ‘Tis the oldest trick in the book. Ye can’t not think of something, once the suggestion is made. So, do be a dear and think me up a nice place to sit while we chat.”
And just as the pink elephant had, a chair appeared. “Come now, something a bit more comfy than that would be nice. Perhaps a rocking chair. Yes, there we are. Perfect. I do love a good rocking chair.”
Gertrude sat down, making herself comfortable. “Now, as I said, I won’t stay long, but there are a few things I need to make clear before ye settle down into the story. If ye’ve read any of the other Pocket Watch Chronicles, ye might recognize me, but even so ye probably don’t know exactly who I am. And if this is the first of the Chronicles ye’ve read, no worries. Ye’re on equal footing with everyone else. So don’t put the book down and go running to find another one. It absolutely isn’t necessary. This book completely stands alone.”
She frowned for a moment. “Where was I? Oh, yes, I remember now, I am about to tell ye who I am.” She sat up a little straighter. “I am an immortal spirit. I have existed since the dawn of time, from the first moment of creation. Throughout history we have been given different names. Among them are: angel, fairy, muse, spirit guide, messenger, eudaemon, dakini, Deva, elemental spirit, Gandharva, watchers, Grigori, one of the ancients, or a servant of the Divine. Sadly though, all human language is painfully imprecise and human understanding limited. There is no one word that sums up our true nature. So choose the name that works best for ye.”
She smiled. “It’s perfectly fine if you don’t believe in any of these things. We can accomplish what has to be done whether ye believe or not. Our purpose is
to guide humans, helping them to discern the Creator’s will. We are each given unique skills and tools to aid us and we have but three rules. We cannot lie. We cannot break a promise. And, above all else, we cannot interfere with a human’s free will.”
Gertrude steepled her fingers under her chin for a moment. “This last point is often the hardest to understand. What if the person we are trying to guide doesn’t listen, or says no or intentionally tries to circumvent the Creator’s will? Well, very simply put, when humans close doors, we open windows. There is usually more than one way to accomplish anything.
“In this story, What if I Fall, the heroine, Sara, will be given a choice whether or not to travel back in time. Afraid that she might fall in love and never return, she decides to stay firmly put in the present. However, falling in love really is the point, isn’t it? So I am forced to change my approach and give someone else the opportunity to travel forward in time. Sometimes the universe needs a little help to unfold as it should.”
Gertrude smiled broadly. “Once you’ve read this one, if ye’d like to know what would have happened if Sara had decided to travel through time, ye can find out in Nothing to Lose. It is a completely different story. The two books are related but can be read in either order. Hmm, perhaps that’s where I’ve seen ye before.”
The elderly woman, rose gracefully from the rocking chair. “Well now, I’ve taken up enough of yer time, so I’d best be going. If ye decide to read Nothing to Lose when ye’re done with this one, I’ll be seeing ye again.”
And in the blink of an eye, she was gone.
Chapter 1
Sunday, July 9, 2006
An outdoor café near the Rialto
Venice, Italy
Sara Wells had been looking forward to this vacation for months. She had never visited Venice. Everyone said it was one of the most beautiful, romantic cities in Europe. A romance author really should visit the most romantic city in Europe, shouldn’t she? But every time she’d suggested it to Mark, her boyfriend, he found reasons not to go. And each time he explained those reasons, they seemed perfectly logical.
So they went river rafting in Pennsylvania and West Virginia, gambling in Vegas and Atlantic City, and skiing in Aspen and Tahoe. The fact that she didn’t enjoy rafting and didn’t know how to gamble or ski didn’t really matter; she loved being with him. He always seemed to work his charm and she became excited about anything they did together. And everything they did was done in style.
Mark’s family had made millions with Holland Imports, a series of automobile dealerships that sold pre-owned luxury cars. Mark was a brilliant salesman and already a millionaire in his own right.
It came as a total shock when he suggested they fly to Venice, spend a few days there and then board a ship for a fourteen-day cruise of the Greek islands. Finally, they were going to do something she had longed to do, and it had been his idea. She’d been so excited she packed three days early and could scarcely sleep the night before they left. She didn’t even mind the fact that Mark’s best friend, Benjamin Talbot, and his newest girlfriend, Daphne Cheswick, were going with them. She didn’t care who was with them; it was Venice and the Greek Islands.
Now, she sat alone, sipping coffee at a café on the Grand Canal, within sight of the Rialto Bridge. If that wasn’t bad enough, this was the second day she’d wandered the streets of romantic Venice on her own.
When they’d arrived yesterday, Mark had begged off. “Sara, honey, the jetlag has wiped me out. Give me a day to rest and then I’ll be a hundred percent yours. I think Benjamin is going to the casino. Maybe you can tag along with them.”
“I’m not going to tag along with Benjamin and his Barbie doll.”
“Suit yourself. But it’s a shame for you to miss the sights of Venice just because I’m a light-weight traveler.”
“I have no intention of missing Venice. I just wish you’d come with me. You’ll get over jetlag faster if you just stay up.”
“Sweetheart, if it means so much to you I’ll go with you. I fear I’ll be a terrible wet blanket though. I really am exhausted. I can’t sleep on a plane like you can.”
“It was business class, Mark. You could lay completely flat and you still didn’t sleep?”
“Not a wink. I was too enthralled watching my beautiful girl sleep to close my own eyes.”
She laughed. “Stop. You did not watch me sleep all night.”
He grinned at her. “How do you know? You were asleep.”
“I suppose I was.”
“And that is why you are fresh as a daisy and ready to explore, while I’m beat. But if you really want me to…”
“No, it’s okay. I’ll tool around on my own for a while.”
“That’s why I love you, sweetie.” He kissed her. “While you’re out tooling around, see if you can find a good restaurant and we’ll go out for a nice dinner. Maybe sushi or Chinese.”
“In Venice? Are you kidding?”
Mark laughed. “Yes. I’m kidding.” He kissed her again. “I’ll see you later. Give me about four hours.”
She had found a lovely restaurant in her wanderings. Thankfully, Benjamin and Daphne had plans of their own, so she and Mark had dinner alone. It was wonderful. Afterward they took a spectacular gondola ride, then wound their way through the streets of Venice, hand in hand. It was truly the most romantic place she had ever visited.
When they finally returned to the hotel, Mark gave her a toe-curling kiss in the elevator. “I’ve always wanted to do that.”
Sara blushed. “Mark, there’s a security camera.”
He shrugged. “So what. We are in love and in Italy. No one cares if we kiss in the middle of San Marco square.”
Thankfully the elevator reached their floor before Mark got any other ideas.
When they entered their room, Sara gave him a quick kiss. “I’ll be right back.”
“Don’t keep me waiting long, beautiful. I don’t think I can stand it.”
Sara giggled as she ducked into the bathroom. She brushed her teeth, had a quick wash to rid herself of the grime of the day and slipped into the filmy silk nightgown she had bought for the trip. It had only taken her a couple minutes, but when she slid into bed beside Mark, he was asleep.
She shook him a little, hoping he was just dozing lightly, but he mumbled something unintelligible, rolled over, and started snoring.
Sara sighed. After his day sleeping, it surprised her that he had fallen asleep so quickly, but she figured it was better to start the cruise well-rested.
She’d crawled out of bed and changed into another nightgown, planning to save the new one for an occasion when he was awake enough to appreciate it.
This morning, when they’d awakened, Mark complained of a headache. “I’m sorry, beautiful, it must have been the red wine last night.”
“Red wine doesn’t usually give you a headache.”
“No, but I don’t usually drink it exhausted and dehydrated. I think it went to my head. There is no other explanation for why I fell asleep on my beautiful, sexy girlfriend. I’m sorry, babe. I’m afraid walking around in this heat will only make things worse.”
“It’s okay. It’s just a shame that you won’t get to see much of Venice.”
“When I’m with you, I don’t see anything else anyway.” He slid his hand behind her neck and kissed her deeply, leaving her breathless and wanting more when he pulled away. “I love you, babe. Let me get a little more rest and try to get rid of this headache and I promise I’ll make it up to you tonight.”
“All right. Take some aspirin and rest. I’ll just sit at the desk and work on my book.”
“You are the best.” He gave her another quick kiss. “But I’ll feel terrible if you miss out because of my headache. Go on. Do some more exploring. If the headache goes away soon, I’ll call your cell and we can meet somewhere.”
“Okay. If I don’t hear from you, I’ll be back by noon so we can check out.”
“There’s no need
to cut your day that short. I requested a late check-out. We just have to board the ship before four-thirty. I figure we’ll have plenty of time if we leave here around three.”
“Okay. I can’t imagine that your headache won’t be gone before then. Maybe we can meet for lunch?”
“Sounds great. I’m sure I’ll feel up to it by then. I’ll call you.”
That had been hours ago and he hadn’t called. She tried to call him a couple of times, but it went straight to voicemail. He must have turned his phone off. She’d finally given up and ate lunch alone. It was almost two now; they’d planned to leave for the ship at three. As soon as she finished her coffee, she’d walk back to their hotel.
Just then, a well-dressed, older woman stopped beside her. “Pardon me, dear, would ye mind if I joined ye? All the tables are full and I’m in desperate need of a cup of tea.” She had a light Scottish accent and a warm smile.
“No, not at all. I was just leaving anyway.”
“Now, lass, don’t rush off on my account. I wouldn’t mind a bit of company and a wee chat while I have my tea.”
“I suppose I have a few minutes.”
“Excellent.” She held out her hand. “My name’s Gertrude.”
Sara shook her hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Gertrude. I’m Sara.”
Gertrude gave a little nod of her head. “The pleasure’s mine.” She motioned to the waiter and ordered a cup of tea in perfect Italian. “Will ye have another cup of coffee? Is that a latte?”
“Yes, thank you.”
Gertrude ordered the coffee and sat in the chair across from Sara. “Now, lass, tell me a bit about yourself.”
“There’s not much to tell. My name is Sara Wells, I live in Maryland, just outside of Washington, and I’m an author.”
“An author? My, how interesting. What sorts of books do ye write?”
Sara smiled. The answer to that question usually elicited one of two responses. People’s faces either lit up and they asked about her books, or they smiled politely, saying something like, “I don’t really read romance.” She was willing to bet Gertrude would be in the latter group.