Glimpse of Eternity

~~Sandra says;

Glimpse of Eternity is both a fairytale and a romance.  A delightful read that will warm your heart.

~~Sandra Lee Smith,    'A Flower for Angela'

                                                                        CHAPTER ONE 

LONDON, ENGLAND - The Present 

    “It’s pouring rain,”  Kacy Rose said to her best friend while they collected their back packs and umbrellas from the attendant near the front door, and prepared to leave London’s National Gallery.  
     “I’m not surprised,” Jennifer said.  “It’s been cloudy all week.”
     Clutching her pink umbrella with both hands, Kacy dashed down the steps beside Jennifer.
     “Harrods, here we come,” Jennifer sang merrily as they skipped puddles and skirted Trafalgar Square where people fed pigeons in spite of the storm.
     Kacy grinned.  “London’s famous department store will probably be a stark contrast from the sixty-eight galleries of art we just saw.”
     “We didn’t see all sixty-eight.”  Jennifer laughed.  “Besides, your grandmother said Harrods is as good as a museum.”
     “I’m sure it is.”  Orphaned at the age of four, Kacy had grown up with her grandparents in southeast Denver, near Jennifer, and the two had been friends all their lives.
     “And,”Jennifer frowned as they sloshed through an unexpected puddle, soaking their feet, “it’ll be nice to go indoors again, where it’s warm and dry.”
     “I love being here,” Kacy said cheerfully.  “London’s so exciting.”
     “Yeah.  Everywhere we look we see history.”
     Behind them the National Gallery, built in 1838, a long stone building of off-white, looked as gray as the overcast sky.  St. Martin’s in the field, adjacent to the gallery boasted a slightly darker shade of gray.  Across the Strand stood Charing Cross Station.  Sandy in color with white trim, the French Renaissance structure contained both the railroad and underground stations, plus a hotel on top. 
     “Something smells good,” Kacy said when they stopped at the traffic light, waiting to cross the busy Strand so they could catch a bus.
     “Must be our perfume,” Jennifer said, “or somebody else’s.”
     “Maybe,” Kacy laughed, envying the two girls behind them who sipped steaming drinks from uncovered Styrofoam cups, “but it smells like hot chocolate.”
     Two pigeons flew down and landed by her cold, wet feet.  Staring at them, a sense of deja vu descended.  Shivers of excitement wiggled through her.
      “I feel like I’ve been here before.  Not in this life, but in another.”
    “I have the same feeling,” Jennifer said.  “Kinda creepy, isn’t it?”
    “Yes.”  They both believed in reincarnation, also that they had each loved one special man in prior lives but never had a chance to fulfill their love.
     Unable to shake the strange sensation, Kacy clutched her pink umbrella tighter, straining to read the numbers on the approaching red double-decker bus. “I think that’s the one we want.”
     “C’mom. The light’s red.” Jennifer grabbed her arm.
     Still not used to traffic driving on the left, Kacy saw the speeding black taxi too late.  She realized Jennifer was looking the wrong way. Terrified she might get hit, Kacy shoved her back toward the wide sidewalk. But before Kacy could dash to safety too, the taxi smacked her. Hard.  And sent her sailing through the air.
     Pain so sharp she nearly blacked out, rattled every cell.  Her breath whooshed out in a loud gush. Umbrella and backpack scattered. But instead of crashing on the ground, Kacy kept right on soaring.
     Dazed, she realized she didn’t hurt any more. Why? Was she numb? Or was something weird going on? The impact should have broken bones  Knocked her out. Maybe even crippled her for life.
     In a stupor, she peered down through the rain. Traffic on both sides of the Strand had come to a complete stop. And Jennifer, along with a crowd, had begun to circle somebody lying on the dark, rainy road. Before Kacy could see who, a powerful gust of wet wind swept her higher, up above the uneven rooftops that bordered Trafalgar Square and Charing Cross Station.
     The pleasant sensation of flying without exerting any effort captured her attention.  She’d dreamed about flying before. It always felt like this. Ethereal. Easy. And very real. She no longer felt cold. Now she felt warm, relaxed. Yet expectant, too, as though something wonderful was about to happen.
     Suddenly somebody seized her arm. 
     Startled, she turned her head and stared into the kind, gray-blue eyes of the white-bearded personage she had conjured as a child to be her guardian angel, then at the two-inch fairy perched on his shoulder, her fairy-godmother. Surprised that she had conjured them now, when she hadn’t for years, she exclaimed, “Rey and Fey. It’s great to see you.”
     “Yes, ‘tis.” The adorable fairy, dressed in pale green and shimmering silver, beamed.
     A little nervous, Kacy fingered the tiny scar on her right cheek. She’d had the scar since her sixth birthday when she tripped and fell on her grandfather’s miniature ferris wheel and rammed a tinker toy clear through her cheek. “When will I fall and hit the ground?” she asked, thinking she must be dreaming.
     “Your mortal shell never left it,” Rey said.
     “Th-at’s me,” she stammered, “ly-lying down there?”
     “It is,” he confirmed.
     She jabbed her chest with her thumb. “Then what’s this?”
     “Your immortal soul.”
     ‘But I don’t feel immortal. I still feel human.”
     “Of course you do.” With a nod of his brilliant white-haired head, Rey guided her higher above the Thames, now nothing more than a narrow, murky ribbon far below.
     Unable to believe she was up in the sky with Rey and Fey, who didn’t have a drop of rain on them, Kacy asked, “Am I dead?”
     “No.” Fey fluttered her tiny silver-tipped wings before she folded them behind her slender shoulders.
     “Am I dreaming?  Kacy asked.
     Fey smiled, her green eyes sparkling. “No, sweetling.”
     Her thoughts in turmoil, Kacy swiped her wet face with the sleeve of her London Fog, a Christmas gift from her grandparents. They’d be worried sick when they heard she’d been in an accident. 
      As though he read her mind, Rey said, “The accident cannot be undone.” He veered right, and Kacy’s attention jolted to a huge cone shaped tunnel that suddenly loomed before them. 
      She blinked, then glanced at Rey, who looked somber and upset.
     “Is something wrong?” she asked.
     “Could be.” His tone reeked with disapproval. 
     In her other fantasies the five foot wingless angel and two inch winged fairy were always cheerful, and whenever Kacy had had nightmares, they’d helped her through her fear. Now, although Fey appeared quite pleased, Rey looked serious, worried, concerned. Confused, Kacy asked, "If I’m not dead or dreaming, what’s going on?"
     "You're in a coma," he grumbled.
     "But I feel so alert," she objected. “And free. In fact,” she spread her arms and glided effortlessly, “I've never felt this free before."
     “Because you haven't been.”  Rey clasped her arm more firmly as the gigantic tunnel twisted closer. The colorful interior of spiraling pink, lavender, orange, yellow, green and blue contrasted sharply with the various shades of gray that made up the turbulent sky. 
     Drawn inexorably toward the stretching, yawning cone, Kacy shivered.  "Where are we going?"
     Fey winked.  “On an adventure.”
     Concerned about leaving her grandparents and Jennifer, Kacy mentally resisted, although an imaginary adventure held more appeal than waking up and facing the injuries she was bound to have.
     “Could you be a little more specific?”
     “Fey,” Rey said as they paused at the mouth of the tunnel,  “thinks you should visit the man in your dreams.”
     Too stunned to comment, Kacy gaped at the swirling vortex of kaleidoscopic colors they were apparently about to enter.   The tunnel looked scary. It also held a certain hypnotic appeal.   And it smelled pleasant. Faintly sweet. Like daffodils. Honeysuckle. Fresh flowers in the spring.
      Trembling with a mixture of excitement, fear, and reluctance, she squeaked, “Where is the-stranger-who haunts my dreams?"
     "In 1854."
     Before Kacy could draw another breath, Rey dived headfirst into the colorful, sweet smelling, whirling, twirling tunnel.
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