In those final moments of life she felt his hand on her shoulders, his face so close that his breath warmed her cheeks. She heard the gentle rumble of his voice tremble in her ears as she clawed at the tiny hole of light, desperate to break through the darkness.
As life drifted from her body and all conscious thought became dreams, her mind clung to the hazy image of Robert Hamilton.
********
With the grace of an angel he lifted her lifeless body and carried her through the blizzard towards the city lights. Deterred by the late hour, driving wind and heavy snowfall most residents had abandoned the streets for the comfort of a warm fire and the shelter of their homes.
Robert was grateful for the deserted streets and late hour as he approached the door of his house. He would have had a hard time explaining the limp body in his arms to anyone who might have enquired. Not to mention the strange looking sack he had found on her back.
Gently he placed her on the mattress of his bed. He lifted his hand and brushed his knuckles slowly over her cheek. He watched the shallow rise and fall of her chest and knew, as sure as the sun that had just set, that she clung to life by a thread.
Undeterred by propriety he removed her sodden clothes and covered her gently with the padded quilt from his bed. He placed a warmed brick wrapped in cotton at her feet and stoked the fire in the room, before removing his own sodden clothes and towelling his head dry. Reaching for a clean shirt and trousers he hurriedly dressed so that he could examine the sack he had found her with.
He couldn’t find an opening to the sack and assumed it had been stitched all round. He was puzzled by the strange leather and cloth that had been used to make it. His eyes wandered over her discarded clothes and her ruined shoes. Gently he lifted her hand and examined the bracelet she wore on her left wrist. It looked to Robert as though it was a timepiece, but he had never seen one so delicate and small. He rested her hand on his upturned palm and brushed his lips across her fingers. He wrapped his hand around hers and clutched it tightly to his chest.
She gasped two short quick breaths as her body sprang back to life. Her eyelids flickered as she fought to open them. She could feel him beside her, clutching her hand to his chest. She could hear the crackle of a fire and the howling of the wind as it lashed against the window. She was in a familiar yet strange place. Her heart raced with anticipation as her eyes opened to the recognition of Robert Hamilton.
“Who are you and why have you haunted me so?” he whispered.
THE END...
but we don’t want to stop here!
If you have enjoyed ‘Changing Grace’ then look out for ‘Saving Grace’, the last in the ‘Beyond Time’ short story series.
But for now, I bid you farewell from 17th Century York.
Thank you for reading and until the next time,
keep safe and keep well.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Elizabeth Marshall is the writing alter ego of a lady born and brought up in a small village in rural South Africa surrounded by a large Scottish farming family.
She has worked at the Charing Cross and Westminster Medical School in England, Nottingham Social Services in England and is currently the Director of an IT Project Management Consultancy.
Elizabeth lives in a 16th Century farmhouse on a sporting estate in the Scottish Borders with her husband, five children and eight chickens and spends her spare time with her head in a book or her fingers on the keyboard writing one.
Elizabeth Marshall has also written the book
‘When Fate Dictates’ and is a regular contributor on www.goodreads.com/author/show/5051445.Elizabeth_Marshall .
Read more about Elizabeth Marshall and her work
on her website
www.elizabethmarshallwrites.com
Elizabeth Marshall, Changing Grace
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