A Knight in Central Park

chapterFour

You may delay, but time will not.

—Benjamin Franklin

The fullness of the moon lit up the street as Joe handed the cab driver a twenty. Joe took his change and headed toward his condo. Shuffling his hands in his pockets, he remembered at that moment that he’d given Shelly his car keys, which meant she also had the keys to his house.

Damn. Nothing had gone right all day. He’d missed an important meeting this morning, he’d run over a homeless woman, his girlfriend, Suzanne, was no longer speaking to him, and now he’d have to break into his own home.

The bedroom window on the east side had a flimsy latch. He’d try that first. His feet crunched on the icy snow as he made his way around the side of the building.

Sirens wailed in the distance.

He jiggled the window frame, congratulating himself when the lock came loose. Hoping not to wake his neighbor, Mrs. Peacock, he took his time raising the wood frame an inch at a time. Once the window was wide enough to fit his body, he got a good solid grip on the windowsill and pulled himself headfirst through the opening, slithering to the ground like a snake.

Sprawled out on the floor on his belly, he immediately sensed someone lurking in the shadows. He heard a movement to his right and saw a flash of glinting metal just before something hard connected with his head. A shocking bolt of pain pierced through his skull, and he quickly faded into oblivion.





Joe put a hand to his head and felt a knot the size of a walnut. What the hell happened? His head jerked up at the idea that the intruder was still in the room. His eyes quickly adjusted to the dark. Though his vision was blurred, there was no mistaking the woman hovering over him. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. The woman he’d left in the hospital hours ago had somehow tracked him down and snuck into his house. “What the hell did you do that for?” he asked. “And what are you doing in my home?”

“No need to curse,” Alexandra scolded. “Your assistant brought me here.”

He glared at her.

“How was I to know it was you?”

His blood surged as he sat up. “I live here.”

“Shelly assured me you would enter through the front entry if you were to come home.”

“I would have come through the front entry,” he said through clenched teeth, “if I had had my keys.”

“Perhaps next time you will remember them.”

Examining the knot on his head with his fingertips, he tried to think of a clever reply. No such luck. As his vision became less hazy, he realized she looked different. She wore a floor length cotton nightgown and her hair, a mass of fiery red curls, fell over her shoulders like a silk shawl.

She crossed her arms over her chest. “What are you gawking at?”

Tired, frustrated, and in pain, Joe attempted to shake his head in annoyance, but it hurt too much. Instead, he lifted himself to his feet, grabbed the robe slung over the end of the bed, and tossed it to her. “Nothing,” he growled. He then stepped closer to her, leaned his body into hers, ignoring her gasps, perhaps even enjoying them as he reached around her, quite slowly and quite purposefully as he quite innocently switched on the lamp.

“There,” he said, stepping back. “Is something wrong?”

She pushed her arms into the robe and pulled the sash tight. “Are you asking me if something is amiss?”

“No. I’m asking you if something is wrong.”

“Must you always speak like a jackanapes, Sir Joe?”

A twitch set in his jaw. “Just call me Joe.”

She just stood there, stiff and unbending.

He shook his head, wincing at the pain such a small movement caused. “Unbelievable.”

She cocked her head. “What is that?”

“The fact that I’m having any sort of conversation at all with a woman who has limped her way into my house without permission only to knock me over the head with a—” He glanced around the room. “What did you hit me with?”

Tentatively, she retrieved a toilet plunger from underneath the pillows. Not just any plunger either. This one had been a housewarming gift and it had a solid handle of brushed steel. No wonder his head felt as if it had been bashed in with a baseball bat.

He took the weapon from her and set it out of her reach. “I hit you with my car and now you’ve hit me with a plunger. I’d say we’re even.”

She frowned. “Is it bleeding?”

“No,” he said as he took a seat in the heavily upholstered chair facing the bed. “Go ahead, get back into bed.”

For the first time since he’d met her, she looked wary of him, maybe even intimidated. He figured she deserved it. If she wanted to sleep in the home of a man she didn’t even know, then she’d have to face the consequences.

He tapped a finger to his knee and waited for her to climb into bed, finding himself ridiculously mesmerized by her wriggling bottom as she struggled to do so.

“Now explain what you’re doing here,” he said after she adjusted the blankets.

“As I said before, your lady friend brought me.”

Somehow he managed to remain calm. “I want to know why you’re really here. Is this something you do on a regular basis, you know, step in front of cars, hoping to find shelter for a few days, a few weeks, maybe months?”

“If I speak the truth, will you promise to hear me out?”

“Promise,” he said, leaning back into the chair. “Now we’re getting somewhere.”

Thirty minutes later, Joe realized, they were getting absolutely nowhere. As she rambled on, he found himself wishing he’d never asked the question. He should’ve left well enough alone and gone up to bed the moment he’d seen that it was her. Instead, he listened as she babbled on about coming from a time when knights roamed England and castles were common; the late fifteenth century to be exact, when King Henry VII held the throne, uniting the houses of Lancaster and York.

He guessed that Alexandra had majored in medieval history before going off the deep end. “So,” he said, when she paused for a breath, “you’re from another time?”

“Aye.”

“And you have until the next full moon to get help?”

She nodded and added in a serious tone, “King Henry is very sly. He has taxed the common people heavily, which has made circumstances surrounding our village unsafe. Noblemen like Sir Richard are doing as they please, taking from the poor until there is naught left but bitterness and fear. ’Twould seem Sir Richard has his mind set on marrying my sister, but I will not allow it. He is a cruel and evil man, which is why I am here.”

He cocked his head. “And why is that?”

“To get help, of course.”

“Of course.” First thing in the morning he was going to hunt Shelly down and let her have a piece of his mind for leaving this woman in his house.

Alexandra settled back into the mounds of pillows, making little noises of contentment. “It is a relief to have it all off my chest. I was afraid you would not believe a word I uttered, for even I failed to believe my grandfather’s tales. But you, Sir Joe, are a suitable listener, indeed. Shelly said you were a kind, generous man, and I should have known after our meeting this morn that you would not turn me away.”

“And how would you know that?”

“Because your kindness shimmers in your eyes like a lost treasure in the sand.”

He cocked a brow upward. “Is that so?”

She nodded. “You are a gentle warrior with a good heart, and you are going to help me. It is your destiny. My instincts tell me all of this. My instincts rarely fail me.”

She looked so innocent, so earnestly naïve, that he could hardly stand the thought of disappointing her. Why upset her tonight? What good would it do? He gave her a pitiful smile. “I’ll help you...first thing in the morning.”

He stood. His head still throbbed. He went to the window and closed it, making a mental note to have the lock fixed.

Alexandra’s eyes were closed by the time he turned back. He watched her snuggle against her pillow like a contented cat, and then he headed for the door.

“Sir Joe,” she called softly.

He turned and leaned against the doorframe. “What is it now?”

“Thank you. Grandfather said I would find a brave champion to help us, and he was right.”

Something twisted in his gut. To think she thought of him as her champion when all he wanted to do was get her out of his home as quickly as possible. It was more than his conscience could stand. “Is there anything you need?”

No response. Just like that she’d fallen asleep. The woman probably hadn’t slept in a regular bed in months.

He went back to her bedside to turn off the lamp. Strange, he thought as he watched her for a moment, how different she looked from earlier in the day when her hair was matted to her head and dirt covered her face. She was actually pretty in a cute, impish sort of way. With her red hair, small nose, and fine cheekbones, she looked like a fairy princess who’d come right out of a children’s book.

Too bad she was as crazy as a loony bird, he thought as he clicked off the light.





Alexandra bolted upright in bed. Her heart fluttered against her chest. The darkness was literally swallowing her whole. It was eerily quiet.

Where was she?

Her brother needed her. She remembered now. She had to find him. Her feet hit the ground. Pain shot up her leg, but nothing could keep her from seeking out Garrett.

She hobbled across the room, made her way through the door, clawing through the darkness and gulping furiously for air as if she were drowning. The dark terrified her almost as much as the thought of not being able to find her brother.

He needed her. She sensed it.

She felt his very essence as he called for her, leading her up the stairs of some strange, forbidding castle, the floor cold against her feet. Panic choked her as she limped from one room to the next, afraid of what she may or may not find.

And then she saw him...lying on a bed of downy blankets. Up close, she saw Garrett’s dark head of hair peeking from beneath linen sheets. “Thank you, Lord, for keeping him safe,” she whispered as she climbed on top of the layers of soft linens and edged herself closer to his side.

She closed her eyes. She would let Garrett sleep a bit longer, at least until she caught her breath. Then she would take her brother back home where they would both be safe.