Arts and Crafts …Part 4 …Advent of the Unexpected

The day after Stella’s visit, I’m still feeling keyed up—she does that to me.

If only she had the grace and allure of Blythe Summers I’d succumb to her charms, but alas, she doesn’t win me and I won’t make do with second best.

She claims I’m deluded by Blythe’s celebrity and the legend built up around her over the years that she was the umtimate femme fatale.

“You’re so impressionable, Theo,” she tells me, “but I also think you fear commitment and being entranced with a dead actress provides you an excuse for not having to deal with a real, live woman in the here and now.”

Of course, she may be right—I’m not that deluded that I’m blind to my flaws, but since I’ve found a portal back to Blythe’s time, there’s nothing keeping me in this century other than fear of absolute commitment—obviously, if I spend too long in the past I may end up closing the door forever on returning to my own time.

And I suppose that’s why I telephoned Stella this morning to inform her I’m finally taking the plunge—not to be with her, but to tell her I’m going back to Blythe and intend to live out the rest of my lfe with her.

It was the right thing to do, seeing as this would be our final goodbye, but I wasn’t prepared for Stella’s tears and her reaction upset me so much that it definitely settled the matter for me—I have to go back to Blythe because I’ve burned all my bridges with Stella in this time.

I hurriedly put on a white sports coat over my shirt and slacks and try to approximate the casual chic look of the other young men at her garden party.

I don’t want any impediment to stand in the way of her accepting me as part of her life.

I ascend the stairway and release the panel concealing the secret wing of her house that leads back to 1927 and the sunny garden party taking place where my swimming pool now stands.

Blythe would be diappointed to know her elegant gardens had fallen into ruin and even the house was not as glamorous as it once was.

I approach what for me is a magic doorway and as I open it the scent of magnolias fills the air along with all the sights and sounds of a forgotten time…

And then I see her in a glamorous gold gown laughing and entertaining her guests and for a moment am overwhelmed with awe until she happens to spot me and beckons me to descend the stairs and walk into another century.

Momentarily, I hesitate, almost afraid to step into this alternate reality, but I reason that having come this far, it would be futile to turn back now.

Blythe sees my uncertainty and falters a moment, her hand frozen in mid-wave, the gesture arrested and awaiting my reaction.

Something is demanded of me and I forge ahead and meet the moment and descend to be with her and accept my destiny, whether or not doubts are rising up inside of me.

At the bottom of the stairs she extends her hand and I grasp it in mine and hold on as desperate as if I were clutching a lifeline, which in reality, I am.

“You seem reluctant, Theo,” she says, “is something causing you to have second thoughts?”

I want to deny it and reassure her but can’t. I open my mouth, but no words come out.

“What is it, Love?” She asks alarmed, fearing I’ve suddenly fallen ill or am in shock. “What’s causing you to hold back?”

And then as suddenly as her words came out, her eyes grew wide with surprise as Stella appears on the balcony and stares down at us in the garden below.