Louisa sank to her knees in front of the newly erected gravestone, not caring about the mud left by last night’s rain. The morning was misty and cool, with raindrops sliding like tears off the surrounding trees and onto the forest of wet gravestones below. There was not a person in sight, leaving the cemetery eerily silent and sinister. Even the birds dared not sing. She rested her head against the rough, cool granite, and ran her fingers reverently over the names of her parents, etched into the monument. It’s been a year; a whole year of grief, guilt and terrible loneliness. The date of death would have been the same for both of them if her father hadn’t managed to hang on for a few more hours, surviving past midnight, therefore dying a day later than her mother.

Thank God
, Doug had been there to comfort her and lead her sobbing from the Emergency Room of Lennox Hill Hospital on that terrible day. He made all the arrangements for the funeral, and contacted all the necessary people, leaving Louisa cocooned in her grief. But Doug was gone now too. He’d accepted a transfer to the Shanghai office and left New York three months ago. In all fairness, he did ask her to come, but Louisa had refused. She had her own plans, and they would be much easier to carry out with Doug out of the way.

“Mom. Dad,” Louisa
whispered, “I’ve come to say goodbye. I would never have contemplated this had you still been alive, but there is no longer anything to hold me back. There is no one left to stay for.”

Louisa had never told her parents the truth. She simply couldn’t find the words.
Valerie was not dead, as everyone believed her to be. Louisa had found her, quite by accident, in a painting that came to the museum from an estate sale in Virginia. The painting was dated 1608, but it was her sister -- no doubt about it. There was another painting, from two years later, of Valerie’s children, Finlay and Louisa. Valerie was alive and well, living in the seventeenth century. She had cleverly inserted a clue into both paintings, probably hoping against hope that her art restorer sister might somehow come across her message from the past. The hideous cupid clock was in both paintings, set to the same time -- 4:05 –- 1605; the year that Valerie landed in when she turned the hands of the clock in the antique shop while browsing for souvenirs. She couldn’t stand it when something was out of place, and tried to set the clock to the right time. How could she have known that the Cupid clock was really a time device, one that had already sent one young woman back into the past?

It took Louisa some time to figure out Valerie’s message, but she had, and she traveled back to England to confront Mr.
Taylor, an eccentric hermit posing as a shopkeeper in a small English village. He told her the truth then, and knowing that Valerie didn’t suffer some gruesome death had been a relief, if a minor one.

Louisa wiped the tears coursing down her face and continued her monologue. “I
’m going to find Valerie. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be all right. I’ve been getting ready, and I won’t go unprepared like Valerie did. When I find her, I’ll give her your love.”

Louisa kissed the headstone and
rose to her feet. Her flight to England was leaving in the late afternoon, and she still had to drive out to JFK, return her rented car, and check in. She wouldn’t have any luggage, just the few items she was bringing with her to the past. She wouldn’t need the rest of her possessions any longer.

“Goodbye.” Louisa turned away and briskly walked out of the cemetery. It was time to go.

Chapter 1

The idea began to take root on Christmas Eve, but Louisa initially pushed it away. Who, in their right mind, would willingly go back to the early 1600s? Sure, it sometimes seemed exciting and romantic in books and movies, but the reality had nothing to do with Hollywood. These were harsh times, full of disease, ignorance and poverty.

Louisa knew she was just feeling maudlin
, since this was her first Christmas without her parents. Doug had left the day before to visit his family in Montana and Louisa was all alone on Christmas Eve, curled up on the couch with a selection of sappy DVDs displayed on the coffee table. Doug had invited her to come spend Christmas with his family, but she refused. She couldn’t bear to be surrounded by his warm, loving family when her own family had been wiped out. Doug’s sister, Karen, reminded Louisa of Valerie with her quirky sense of humor and ability to see the good in everyone, and Doug’s mom would only make Louisa think of her own mother, whom she missed every minute of every day.

Louisa made herself a
turkey sandwich, popped “Love Actually” into the DVD player, and settled in for the night. She briefly thought of going to Midnight Mass, but it was sleeting heavily so she decided to pass, opting for the warm comfort of her lonely apartment.

Louisa
hadn’t even realized what she was doing at first. She went to the library often, but she never really looked at the DVDs. She liked to read and still enjoyed the feel of a book in her hands. A lot of her friends were urging her to get the Kindle or the Nook, but she resisted. She liked a good, old-fashioned hardcover novel. Finding herself in the movie section was a coincidence, until she saw what she had subconsciously been looking for. Louisa pulled PBS’s “Colonial House” off the shelf and read the back cover. A reality show about life in the American Colonies in the seventeenth century. It wouldn’t hurt to have a peek. She added “The Scarlet Letter” for good measure and went to the checkout desk. She would start with that.

Several hours of watching the colonists toiling in the fields and in the kitchens did nothing to raise Louisa’s spirits. Life looked hard and joyless, especially when the religious leader was usually the only law in the colony. Church services were the only break from hard work and were mandatory, with attendance being taken at the door. Louisa turned off the program and picked up
the crime thriller she’d checked out instead. Ridiculous. What had she been thinking? She would return the DVD tomorrow and forget the whole thing.

Louisa
forced herself to go to a party on New Year’s Eve, but wished she was at home instead. The city glittered with lights with huge crowds already gathered in Times Square, waiting for the ball to drop. A sense of excitement permeated the air, everyone waiting for midnight when a new leaf would be turned over and all the mistakes of the past year forgotten. Everyone at Tasha’s party was already drunk and happy by the time Louisa made her entrance. She greeted several people before accepting a glass of wine from her assistant, Billie, and finding a quiet spot by the window. Billie had come to the party with her new boyfriend, her inner happiness glowing like a candle for everyone to see.

Tasha slipped a CD into the stereo system and a
soulful tune filled the room as couples began to dance, kissing and canoodling in the semidarkness of the living room. It was past eleven, and Louisa felt a choking grief at the thought that she would have no one to kiss at midnight, and no one to visit on the first day of the year. It had been her ritual to go see her parents on January 1, to once again toast the New Year, and spend the first day of the year with the people she loved. Three years ago she spent the day with her parents, Valerie and Mike, and Doug. This year she would be all alone.

Louisa slipped out of the
apartment without attracting anyone’s attention and went to the elevator. Who would miss her anyway? Most people were at the party with their significant others, old or new, and Louisa was just another person, sitting in the corner alone at the stroke of midnight. The air outside was frigid and fresh, with a brisk wind coming off the Hudson River. Louisa tied her scarf tighter and huddled into her coat, walking slowly toward her own building on the Upper West Side. There was no reason to rush. She was walking down a deserted block between 9
th
and 10
th
Avenues when the New Year found her. She could glimpse people in windows, laughing and dancing, but felt very far removed from them. She felt completely alone in a city full of people, since the only people she wanted were either dead or out of her reach. She thought that Valerie was dead now too, since she would have died in the 1600s, but her heart refused to believe that. Louisa knew that her sister was out there somewhere, living her life, and raising her children in Colonial Virginia.

Doug came back from Montana right after the holidays
, and broke the news that brought Louisa that much closer to her decision. He’d been negotiating a transfer to the Shanghai office, and now all the details had been ironed out. He would be going out there at the end of January to find an apartment, and meet his new team, before making the permanent move in February. He asked Louisa if she wanted to come with him, but he knew she would refuse. What would she do in Shanghai? It was a marvelous place to explore on vacation, but the idea of living there for three years, possibly longer, did not appeal.

In truth, maybe it was living there with Doug that didn
’t appeal. They’d been together since college, but their relationship was stuck in a major rut. Unlike other couples, they never moved in together or made plans for a wedding or a family. Louisa hinted numerous times that maybe they should take their relationship to the next step, but Doug always sidestepped the discussion, clearly not as eager as she was to commit. She knew he loved her, but not enough to spend the rest of his life with her, especially since he didn’t want to have children. What was the point of getting married if you didn’t want a family? Louisa thought he might change his mind as he got older and his friends began to settle down and start families, but Doug was unmoved by their adorable toddlers or stories of the joys of fatherhood. She was almost thirty, and if she wanted to have a child she couldn’t afford to waste any more time.

By the time Doug left for Shanghai in January, Louisa began to research in earnest. She looked up
historical information, started collecting period coins, and spent hours trying to imitate the speech patterns of the time. She sat in her workroom at the museum; meticulously cleaning the brilliant colors covered by centuries of grime, and held conversations with herself in her head. At first, she thought she sounded ridiculous, but then it became more natural. Nothing could give her away faster than her speech, so she had to practice. There would be no more twenty-first century American slang.

Louisa had no idea what Valerie had told people about her past
, so she would have to play it by ear if she actually got there. She still needed to convince Frederick Taylor to help her. She didn’t think the prickly old man would jump at the chance to send her into the seventeenth century. What really bothered Louisa the most, was the fact that there was no back door; no escape hatch. If she actually went through with her plan, she would be stuck in the 1600s forever. There would be no way to come back if she failed to find Valerie, and she would have to make the most of the situation and learn to live in the past. Valerie seemed to have done okay for herself, but she probably got lucky, if you could consider having your husband tortured to death in the Tower of London luck. She remarried and had two children, possibly more.

The thought of Valerie’s children filled Louisa with longing. She had stared at them for hours in that portrait
, and thought they were the most beautiful children she had ever seen. She felt especially drawn to Louisa, who had obviously been named after herself. The little girl’s amber eyes stared straight off the painting, and into Louisa’s soul. Louisa longed to meet her and touch the curve of her cheek, or caress those dark curls. What she wouldn’t give to see them in person and have them know her? Louisa laid a hand on her own flat stomach. Would she ever have a baby of her own? What seemed like a certainty only five years ago, was now becoming an unknown. She wanted a baby, but the thought of having one in the seventeenth century was terrifying. Putting aside the obvious risks of pregnancy and birth in the primitive conditions of the past, there was also the question of a possible father. What kind of men would she encounter in the seventeenth century, and would she be able to love someone whose upbringing and moral compass were so different from her own? She would put children out of her mind for now. Time would tell, and she had plenty of details to see to before she presented herself to Mr. Taylor, packed and ready to go.

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