A Knight in Central Park

chapterThree

Journeys end in lovers meeting.

—William Shakespeare

Sitting in bed, in a strange room, Alexandra had naught to do but ponder her predicament. Joe McField...or was it McFaraway? Either way, he was The Chosen One; the man who was going to save her family, her home.

The man she would someday marry.

Her thoughts quickly turned to the ride here and the mind-boggling speed in which the horseless carriage had brought her to this strange place. She looked about, astonished by such cleanliness. Shelly had told her that only the sick and injured stayed in the fortress. The walls and floors were as stark and clean as the finest linen back home.

A gray-haired woman, clad in white, fiddled with a metal box nearby and then left the room without a word said. The bed across from Alexandra was empty and neatly made. No dirt or food scraps covered the floors. Not one blade of grass or straw could be seen.

How wondrously strange all of these items of the future.

Grandfather had said there would be unimaginable objects in this other world, and certainly he was right. Carriages without horses, flashing lights above the streets...and without use of a flame! If only Grandfather could be here with her to see it all with his own eyes.

Alexandra scratched at her bandaged leg, then promptly fell back onto the soft pillow behind her. She twiddled her thumbs and peered at the ceiling until her eyes crossed. Not one to dawdle, she found it difficult to sit still. With naught else to keep her busy, she found herself recalling the determined, unwavering glint in her hero’s dark blue eyes. That look had told her everything she needed to know. The man who called himself Joe was to be her knight.

“Sir Joe,” she said aloud, unimpressed with the sound of his name on her lips.

As a child she had thought her champion would possess a name like Drake or George. Even Thomas had a certain ring to it, conjuring images of strong warriors from the past. But Joe? Her shoulders dipped. His name mattered not. The only thing that mattered was that he was determined, strong, and brave enough to conquer Sir Richard and his men upon their return to her time. Her time. How strange the thought seemed. And yet somehow it had truly happened. Reaching under the cover, she felt for the stones within the hem of her garment. The strange lady in white had wanted her to undress, but she had refused. Relief swept over her as she grasped the small stones.

The woman named Shelly had assured her Sir Joe would come to check on her before long. Alexandra needed only to convince Sir Joe to return home with her. Until the next full moon, she could not let him out of her sight.

She tapped a finger to her chin, endeavoring to come up with a plan when the door suddenly swung open.

The very man who filled her thoughts appeared, looking tall and broad-shouldered as he entered the room. She cocked her head for a better look at the strange headgear he wore over his eyes. He had not been wearing the odd apparatus earlier. “What is that contraption strapped across your face?”

He took them off. “My glasses?”

“Aye,” she said, reaching for them and then placing the apparatus over her eyes. “What do they—Oh, my, they are ghastly.” She took them off and blinked to regain a clearer vision.

He plucked them from her clutches and tucked them into his shirt pocket. “You’ve never seen a pair of eyeglasses before?”

She shook her head. “Nay. I thought you said your eyesight was that of an owl.”

Sir Joe seemed skeptical, uneasy, and thus she figured now was not the time to tell him of his destiny, his quest.

“They’re for reading,” he told her. “Listen, I talked to the doctor. He said you have some bruising, but no broken bones. You’ll be up and about in a few days.”

“My leg itches terribly. Can you not remove the bandages for a moment?”

He shook his head. “Here,” he said, gathering a stack of bound papers from a nearby table. “Maybe this will help keep your mind off the itch.”

She took the thick parchment he offered, feeling the smooth texture with her fingertips. She turned the thick pile of parchment over and gasped at the sight of a woman in full color, dressed in strange undergarments, her bosom heaved against colorful fabric. “Do women dress like this in your time?”

Joe glanced at the picture. “I wish,” he said with a smile.

“What do you wish?”

“Nothing. It was a joke. I was kidding.”

Alexandra looked at the colored drawing again. No one she had seen so far had been dressed like this Jezebel, but Sir Joe wished for all women to wear this sort of garb. She smiled inwardly. Sir Joe, it seemed, was quite the rogue.

“Do you have a relative I could call?” he asked, his tone stern and much too serious. “Someone to come get you?”

“Nay, everyone I know is far, far away.” A thought struck her, and she lifted a questioning brow. “Surely you’ll not leave me to fend for myself after striking me down?”

“It was an accident,” he said. “If you give me the name of a friend, anyone at all, I’ll contact them and make sure they know you’re here.”





Joe glanced at his watch. If he left this minute he might get to Suzanne’s place in time for dinner with her parents. Although missing dinner altogether had its appeal, he had canceled last week and they would never forgive him if he was to be so rude again. “Where do you live? I’ll have Shelly drop you there after you’re released. How about that?”

“I have no place to go, Sir Joe.”

He pressed a finger to his temple. “Don’t you think ‘sir Joe’ is overdoing it a bit?” He studied her face for a moment as he wondered what kind of game she was playing.

Before she could reply, the door swung open and Shelly entered the room. She headed straight for the bed. “Does it hurt?” Shelly asked Alexandra.

Joe shifted his weight from one foot to the other and glanced at his watch again.

“Nay, ’Tis not so bad.”

Her ridiculous dialect was driving him nuts. Every ’tis and ’twas made his teeth clench tighter. He wrapped his hand around Shelly’s arm, excused them both, and pulled her from the room and into the hallway.

The door shut softly behind them.

He kept his voice low. “She claims to have no place to stay. If you ask me, the woman is nuts. I really think she believes she’s from another century.”

Shelly’s eyes lit up as an idea came to her. “Let her stay at your place for a few days. At least until she can get around.”

“Absolutely not. This isn’t like bringing home a stray puppy or a kitten. She’s human. At least I think she is.”

“Oh, come on. She looks perfectly innocent to me. She’s extremely sweet natured. What harm could she do? You’ve got plenty of room in your apartment and the publicity might do you some good. You want to impress the Academy, don’t you? The headlines will read: Joe McFarland Helps the Homeless. What could be better than that?”

“Forget it, she’s a lunatic. She could be a thief for all I know.”

Shelly plunked a hand on her hip. “And exactly how much of your property is she going to carry off with a bum leg?”

“She could be on drugs. The last thing I need are needles scattered about my coffee table.”

The doctor swept past, prompting them both to fix their gazes on him as he entered Alexandra’s room.

“Did you see that gorgeous man?” Shelly asked. “Was that Alexandra’s doctor?”

Joe’s temples throbbed. “Yes, and I didn’t see a ring on his finger. I need to go. Here,” he said, stuffing his keys into Shelly’s hand. “You take my car and I’ll catch a cab. I filled out the required forms and told the hospital staff to bill me. See if they can keep Alexandra overnight. If it will make you feel better, I’ll come back tomorrow and find her a place to stay. One of those shelters for women...or something like that.”

“I’ll take care of it,” Shelly said, “but don’t think I won’t remember this. You owe me one.”

Joe shot her a quick smile before he took off down the hall toward the open elevator.