Aria lifted her gaze from the keyhole to her friend. She blinked, and then her heart began to race. The vision of Mrs. Blagden was fading.
“I want you to… always… dance.”
One second. Less than that and she was gone.
She vanished before Aria’s astonished eyes. “Mrs. B?” She reached out her hand, but no one was there. In fact, everything had changed. There were no buildings anywhere her eyes could see. There were trees—bare, snow-covered trees everywhere. Snow? What? She closed her eyes and shook her head. Maybe it was she who needed to go to the hospital. None of this was real. It couldn’t be. “Mrs. B?” she tried again. “If you can hear me, call an ambulance right away.”
She waited a second, then opened her eyes. Nothing had changed. Trees as far as her eyes could see. A white fog appeared before her face until she realized what it was and stopped breathing. It was cold out. Really cold. How? How could that possibly be? It couldn’t be. She let out her breath and watched the swirling wisps rise from her mouth.
She wrapped the blanket around her shoulders. How had Mrs. B. known she’d need to stay warm?
“Mrs. B., something terrible has happened to me? It must be from the accident. I…I can’t see you and there’s snow everywhere.”
But her friend didn’t answer her. In fact, silence echoed around her. And the booming sound of a twig snapping.
Had dancing triggered some abnormality in her brain?
“Hello? Someone help.”
She heard movement to her right. She looked that way, her heart pounding so hard, it hurt. Her head felt as if it was spinning. She closed her eyes as a wave of nausea washed over her. She had to try to relax. How? How does one find rest when the whole world just changed before their eyes? She took a tentative step, wrapped in her throw. What was she going to do? Where was she supposed to go?
“Miss?”
She spun around. A man stood behind her. He looked to be about the same age as she. He wore…he wore an overcoat of brown leather that reached his ankles and flared out into two tails behind him. He carried a shovel.
“Stay away from me!” Aria warned. She didn’t care what he looked like. He either wasn’t real; she’d made him up in her mind—or he was real, and if that was the case, why did he have a shovel? She didn’t want to wait around for answers. She turned again to leave and tripped over her numb feet.
She felt his fingers clamp around her upper arm. She flailed and the blanket fell into the snow. Snow. Her feet were so cold.
The man pulled her to her feet and smiled again. “Are you hurt?”
“No!” She stepped back and readied herself to kick him in the throat if he moved. “Where am I?”
“Hmm?” he asked, giving her a curious look. “On our land.”
“Whose is ‘our’?”
“My family. The Gables.”
“Where though? What’s the name of this place? All of it, not just your land? Where are we?”
“We are in Dartmouth in Devon,” he told her, his expression turning to pity. “In England.”
Yes! He had a British accent! No. No. It couldn’t be! England? She laughed holding her palm to her head. “Is this a joke? Please, tell me it’s a joke.”
He shook his head, looking confused.
“I was in New York. This is New York.” She closed her eyes and said it over again. “This is New York. This is New York.”
“You should come inside before you freeze to death. Odd that we had such a heavy snowfall in May, but—”
“May?” she asked, feeling dizzy. “But it’s August.”
“Come, Miss. Come inside. I fear the cold has already—”
“Come inside where? What do you intend to do? I’ll tear out your eyes.”
He stared at her for a minute, looking more serious. “I intend to bring you to my mother and to our table so you can fill your belly. Mayhap, my sister will let you share her bed so you can sleep under the shelter of our roof.”
