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A gust of wind came from the other side of the door, swirling around me and ruffling my hair and Sebastian’s thick gray fur. It was delightfully chilly—significantly colder than anything I’d feel if I stepped out of my apartment. It brought with it the scent of Autumn leaves and possibly a fire somewhere in the distance, as though someone had raked up the fallen leaves and was burning them.
I have to admit, I was immediately enchanted. You just don’t get Fall weather like that down in Florida—it doesn’t even get cold until mid-December and that’s if we’re lucky. Half the time it’s eighty degrees on Christmas, which is a real bummer. Not that I’d had anyone to spend Christmas with since my Mom died, but still…
I had never seen a New England Fall before—or had I? Something inside me was whispering that I had…that the memory was buried in the void of lost early childhood recollections somewhere in my subconscious.
Through the rustling branches of the trees at the end of the wooden bridge, I thought I could see a house—soft, periwinkle blue clapboard with white trim winked at me through the orange and gold leaves. Was that Morris? Did I dare to go and find out?
Sebastian answered the question for me. He walked right through the doorway, his tail held high and twitching at the end as he stepped onto the wooden bridge.
“Hey, Sebastian—wait! No!” I exclaimed, anxiety suddenly gripping me. “We can’t just wander in there—we don’t know where it actually is. It might not even be on Earth!”
I have always been a big reader, especially as a child, and The Chronicles of Narnia where four British children wander through doorways that lead to another world was uppermost in my mind.
But my cat didn’t care about my sudden bout of anxiety—he continued on down the bridge, looking from side to side as the Autumn breeze ruffled his fur. He was getting further and further away and I felt my heart leap into my throat when I thought of losing him. He was all I had left of my Mom—I couldn’t let him go into the unknown alone!
If I had stopped a moment to think, I would have taken some things with me through the doorway. A light jacket and my purse at least. As it was, the only thing I had close to hand that was important was my phone. I grabbed it as well as my grandma’s last will and testament. Then I plunged through the doorway after my cat.
Though I didn’t know it, I had stepped into a whole other world…and a whole other life.
CHAPTER FOUR
The first thing that happened when I set foot on the bridge was that it felt like someone gave me a violent shove. I stumbled forward and almost fell—but I managed to catch myself on the wooden handrail.
Then I heard the unmistakable sound of a door clapping shut behind me.
“Oh, no!” I gasped.
Whirling around, I saw the heavy oak door was already beginning to fade. Even as I reached for it, it became transparent…and then disappeared completely.
“It’s gone! Now what are we going to do?” I demanded, turning towards Sebastian.
My cat turned his head back to me for a moment and said,
“Mmmroww!”
Then he continued down the wooden bridge. It was as though he was telling me to follow him.
Since I didn’t have any other choice, I did.
The bridge was long and straight and it ran over a narrow brook that was murmuring quietly to itself. Looking over the wooden railing, I had another bright flash of memory.
I saw myself standing at this exact same place, but I was somehow much shorter—my head didn’t even reach the top of the railing. I was looking through the space between the wooden rails and down into the water. A little toy boat was skipping along on the water, weaving and bobbing as the current carried it under the bridge and beyond…
Then the memory was gone as quickly as it had appeared. I blinked and looked up to see that Sebastian was already at the end of the bridge. He was looking over his shoulder at me as if to say, “Are you coming or what?”
“All right, all right—I’m coming,” I told him. Another gust of chilly wind whipped past me, making me shiver. Being a Florida girl, I have pretty thin blood and I was only wearing a short-sleeved t-shirt and a pair of yoga pants. (I pretty much live in yoga pants—it’s one benefit of working from home.)
I hurried to the end of the bridge and caught up with my cat, who was now making his way down a dirt path shadowed by towering, colorful Maple trees.
The foliage was even more exquisite up close. I reached out and plucked a bright red leaf bigger than my palm and examined it. The intricate tracery of veins convinced me I wasn’t dreaming—which I had been half suspecting from the moment the door was drawn in the middle of my apartment. What kind of dream had such elaborate detail?
The dirt path led to a house, just as I had suspected. It was an English Colonial style—two solid stories built directly on top of each other with an attic above. A narrow sidewalk led to the house through the surprisingly well-tended front lawn.
I looked at the house, studying it. There was a broad front porch and four white columns supporting a portico. The windows looked like eyes but not in a bad way—they almost seemed to smile at me. The faded paint and white trim made me think of an ancient Grandfather for some reason. I didn’t have any feelings of foreboding—actually, I felt almost at once that I would be welcome here.
Sebastian seemed to feel the same way because he sashayed right up the front sidewalk and sat on the porch. Then he looked back at me again as if to say,
“Well? Come on!”
