River Of Time

By Sharon Ricklin

If you could go back in time and change things...would you?

Author, David Russell once said, “The hardest thing in life to learn is which bridge to cross and which to burn.” But my dilemma was learning from which bridge to jump.

No one with half a brain would ever believe that jumping off a bridge could in any way, shape, or form, turn out to be a good idea. And I certainly would never encourage anyone else to take a potentially fatal plunge into a deep and rushing river. However, I am thoroughly convinced that taking that leap myself - might just turn out to be the best decision of my life.
Timing...timing is everything. The impact jolts me like an iron fist. The water is arctic-cold.
All of my muscles clench. I am pulled down – hard and fast and deep. Trapped in the tentacles of the swift current, the dark water becomes my mortal enemy. Now fighting for my life, I’m sure I’m going to drown...
Just before the darkness takes over, I wonder... Did it work?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sharon Ricklin
• Release date: Oct 27, 2013
• ISBN: 9781311274342

Sharon Ricklin

Sharon Ricklin grew up in Milwaukee, Wisconsin, and always knew she wanted to be a writer. She's had many titles in her life, including: wife, mother, grandmother, medical assistant, ranch-hand, and teacher. While still home-schooling her youngest son - she finally started writing. However, after finishing her first romance novel, circumstances in life forced her to set the book aside for a few years...No longer working full time and having an empty nest, (and no more excuses) she decided to get to work on editing that novel. Little did she know, her muse had other ideas. A fantastically vivid dream forced her to set that book aside, yet again. This dream gave birth to the Ravenswynd Series, and the muse hasn't shut up since. (After finishing her paranormal Ravenswynd Series, she did finally get that first novel published and (Song of Memory) is available.Sharon is a member of Romance Writer's of America (RWA), Wisconsin Romance Writers, (WisRWA) the author of two blogs, and involved in several Writer's Groups.Now living in Racine, Wisconsin, Sharon is working on another time-travel novel, tentative title: Island of Time.Her other 3 time-travel (romance) novels, River of Time, Garden of Time, and Frozen in Time are stand-alone novels - NOT a series.

Book preview

RIVER OF TIME

by

SHARON RICKLIN

Copyright © 2013 Sharon Ricklin

All rights reserved.

Smashwords Edition

Other Titles by Sharon Ricklin

The Ravenswynd Series:

Ravenswynd Legends

Ravenswynd Dreams

Ravenswynd Visions

Ravenswynd Destinies

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the written permission from the author.

Cover Artwork by Martina Avery-Perry.

Background bridge photography taken and edited by Thaddeus Roan.

For all my grandchildren-

A sweet bouquet of unique and beautiful flowers.

They fill my heart with boundless love and joy; giving life meaning even when it feels like there is none.

∞

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

The author’s profound gratitude to…

My awesome editor: Barbara Secklin

My fantastic beta-reader: Laurel Johnson

An enormous thanks to all my writer friends on Facebook for your continuing support and helpful advice as we forge together in the world of indie-publishing.

I will be forever grateful to my small, but enthusiastic group of fans who cheer me on with their rave and colorful reviews on Goodreads and Facebook. You guys rock!

I love you all.

∞

A very special thanks to Gina McKnight for her lovely poem,

and Martina Avery-Perry for her beautiful artwork.

Part 1

Few cross the River of Time and are able to reach non-being. Most of them run up and down only on this side of the river. But those who when they know the law follow the path of the law, they shall reach the other shore and go beyond the realm of death.

~ Horace ~

PROLOGUE

∞

Timing is everything. Pacing myself, I inhale several long, deep breaths - each time exhaling slowly. Heart pounding, eyes glued to the impending sunrise, finally taking one last huge gulp of air, I hold it in. I lean shakily forward. Letting go of the cold steel girder, I leap off the bridge. I plummet through the air, and slam into the frigid waters of the Snake River. The impact jolts me like an iron fist; it feels like someone has smashed my entire body into solid rock. The stinging shock is a thousand times worse than I ever imagined it could be. The water is arctic-cold; piercing my skin all the way through to my internal organs. All of my muscles clench like a chokehold, and then without warning, my bladder gives way. The added weight of my backpack pulls me down hard and fast and deeper than I thought possible. The increasing pressure crushes my lungs - it feels like an elephant has landed on my chest. I’m trapped in the tentacles of the swift current, and like a sinister foe, the dark water becomes my mortal enemy. I’m fighting for my life, seriously thinking I’m going to drown. With my absolute last ounce of energy, on my fourth, and what I know is my final try, I struggle to push myself upwards again. Finally, I see a hand with a golden ring reaching for me just above the water; my rescuer has finally found me. After taking a breath of fresh air and then coughing up half the river out of my lungs, he is able to pull me into a boat. Still sputtering profusely, I become vaguely aware of the hum of a motor and a ride to a pier. But the shivering is intense and all my muscles scream out in pain. My teeth chatter so badly I think I’ll surely chip a few. The next thing I know, I’m in a moving vehicle, curled up in a ball on a very uncomfortable seat. I cough a little more and just before the darkness takes over, I wonder – was I successful? Did it work? Have I actually managed to travel through time?

∞

All time exists. That is the truth…If the future did not exist now, how could we journey toward it? If the past does not exist still, how could we leave it behind?

~ Gene Wolfe ~

CHAPTER 1

The river of time may fork into rivers, in which case you have a parallel reality and so then you can become a time traveler and not have to worry about causing a time paradox.

~ Michio Kaku ~

October 13, 2010

It’s odd - the things that inspire us at any given moment in time. While rinsing out a beautiful decanter that I used for hand lotion, the method finally came to me, growing more obvious by the second. As the warm water cascaded over my hands like clear liquid glass, I thought about how much time this simple chore was actually taking. I watched the mixture of water slither down the drain, swirling and mingling with the old, discarded lotion. And then it hit me like a splash of cold water on a hot, humid day. Time and water. The secret of time travel lies within the water!

I quickly dried my hands and grabbed the book I’d been reading by Michio Kaku called Hyperspace. I found the bookmarked page and skimmed down to the part that suddenly now made all the sense in the world, and read aloud:

"Newton considered time to be moving like a straight arrow which unerringly flies forward toward its target. Nothing could deflect or change the course of this arrow once it was shot. Einstein, however, showed that time was more like a mighty river, moving forward but often meandering through twisting valleys and plains. The presence of matter or energy might momentarily shift the direction of the river, but overall the river's course was smooth: It never abruptly ended or jerked backward. However, Gödel showed that the river of time could be smoothly bent backward into a circle. Rivers, after all, have eddy currents and whirlpools. In the main, a river may flow forward, but at the edges there are always side pools where water flows in a circular motion."

Yes! I said aloud. I must find a body of water, preferably a river. I set the book down and went to finish my task, still thinking about time and water. I had always felt drawn to bodies of water. As far back as I could remember - water seemed to beckon me - strange as that may sound. I lived within walking distance to the Pacific coast in Long Beach, Washington for just over three years. Before that, I called Bainbridge Island, Washington my home: a place surrounded entirely by Puget Sound.

Regardless of where I lived, I’d spend hours walking along the shores gazing out into the vastness of the waters, mesmerized by the constant ebb and flow of the tides and waves. Sometimes on weekends, I would search for out-of- the way lakes and rivers to explore, always enthralled by such beauty: whether it came in the form of a flowing stream, rushing river, or placid lake. I wasn’t even that great a swimmer, and yet, there it was.

As I pondered these thoughts and realized what possibilities loomed before me, I was reminded of the story of a man whose most poignant moments of life seemed to be centered on or near water, particularly one grand river. I envied Norman with a passion. He shared his story in a book and later a movie by the same name. It was called A River Runs Through It.

Norman had spent countless hours fly-fishing along the picturesque Big Blackfoot River in Montana. I had grown to understand Norman, and was drawn to his exceptional thoughts at the close of the movie. Portrayed as an aging man, now nearing the end of his life, he stands in the graceful flowing waters up to his thighs and he contemplates not only his bittersweet memories of loved ones long passed, but also the sounds and origins of the great river itself. He appears resigned and content as he alludes to the timelessness of the river. His quiet but fervent last thought captivates me with fierceness every time I hear it. With impassioned appeal Norman’s words now echo my own:

I am haunted by waters.

Strengthening my theory, I recalled a recurring dream that I’d been having more frequently in which I somehow fall into icy waters, then immediately I’m pulled under by the strong current. The darkness is of the blackest kind, and the impending doom always makes my heart beat much like a wild drum, causing a bitter bile-like taste to churn up into my mouth. Seized by panic, I struggle in a frantic attempt to reach the light up above, but several times I’m sucked back down by the swirling current of the frigid waters. This apparently never-ending vicious cycle drains every ounce of energy I have left, and I feel myself letting go - resigning myself to the waters.

Just before the dream ends, I see the same exact scene: A hand - reaching out to me - a firm grasp and a forceful yank of my arm, and then my head comes up – up and finally into the air. I can breathe! Though jagged breaths - coughing and sputtering and gagging on the foul, muddied taste in my mouth. And then, within moments, everything fades to black – and then I jerk awake. But now the dream finally made complete sense to me as I recall that every time I wake from it I’m always left with an overwhelming peace of mind. It got so that I began to look forward to the dream just to experience the serenity for the remainder of the day. I wondered now, if perhaps the book I had read by Ann Faraday had mentally prepared me to realize that dreams usually do have hidden secrets, and her ideas were beginning to have a whole new meaning to me, and, for some strange reason, I had even memorized her words:

In forming a bridge between body and mind, dreams may be used as a springboard from which man can leap to new realms of experience lying outside his normal state of consciousness.

I stood there for a few more minutes just thinking about the dream and Ann Faraday’s words while watching the water run over my hands and down the drain. I then started to think about time. Time itself can be such a weird thing. Several clichés about time began to meander through my mind.

Time flies. But, sometimes it drags on and on. It can be thought of in so many ways…depending on who’s doing the thinking: Time is of the essence. Time heals all wounds. Time and again. There’s no time like the present.

Time may have many words affiliated with it, thus enhancing the meaning: Father Time, time immemorial, time out, time zone, time warp, time machine; and on and on - until the end of time.

But what exactly is time? It’s easy to assume that most people wish they had more of it. Free time, easy time, good times... lifetime.

Where does the time go? ask the old.

I love summer-time! say the young.

If only I had more time, cry the dying.

I wish I could go back in time… say the regretful.

And what would you do so differently if you really could go back in time? ask the skeptical.

Time travel is not possible, proclaim the scientists.

Or is it? I said aloud, to no one but my cat as she entered the kitchen with a loud meow.

Everything had started to come into focus and make perfect sense: the water, the dream and time travel.

Having studied many scientific books regarding time and space, I’d done extensive research every spare moment. I read everything I could get my hands on written by physicists who studied dark matter, hyperspace, and the string theory. And some recent studies showed that there may be more than just three dimensions, and more to time and space than originally thought. It was such fascinating material.

I’d even ventured into the fantasy world looking for answers. Some of the fictional books on time travel made it seem so easy - so many stories depicting endless ways to travel through time. The very first book I’d read portrayed a man building a time machine. I had no clue how to even begin. In another one, hiding in a fireplace during a lightning storm did the trick. Yet another suggested you could just imagine yourself in a different time and, if you concentrated hard enough, it would happen. There were also comedies where a fast car - fashioned with the all-important flux-capacitor – became a time machine. I had even seen a movie that involved the simple act of looking into a mirror.

I thought about my two favorite time-travel books. One portrayed a man who had a genetic disorder that caused him to travel through time, although his travels were always involuntary; and the other - a woman who falls through a circle of ancient megalithic monuments, somewhat like Stonehenge, catapulting her back in time.

But now I believed I’d finally stumbled upon what might be the only realistic method that could possibly work. How I had missed it before was a mystery in itself. It had to be in water! Under water - to be exact.

This wasn’t going to be easy for me. As much as I wished to go back and fix things in my past, and as haunting and mesmerizing as water could be, the thought of diving into any dark and deep water sent chills up my spine. After all, it’s one thing to fall in by accident, and quite another to attempt something so risky - on purpose.

I can’t even begin to explain how I knew this would work, but something deep inside of me told me it would. Had I bothered to say this out loud, I’m sure others would think I had gone completely insane. But sometimes you just know, and this was one of those times. All I had to do now was figure out exactly which body of water I needed for my journey.

I placed the ceramic decanter upside down on the dish drainer. It was heavy, and the purple and brown colors swirled together in a shiny glaze. An old friend had brought it back as a souvenir for me from her trip to sunny California. I was reminded of her every single time I used the hand lotion, although we had lost touch and I hadn’t seen her in over a decade. Perhaps this was another relationship I’d be able to fix.

A plan had begun to form in my mind. I could take a vacation, even though some people felt my job was one which didn’t necessarily require one. I was a free-lance writer and worked from home. Make-up and clothes were optional. I usually had no problem making my deadlines with all my major accounts now online.

And, being fairly recently divorced - not of my own accord, meant no one would even miss me in my absence. With all of my friends now married, one by one they faded away and became distant memories. It didn’t help that I had spent the past three years working from home, which caused my entire social life to dwindle to nothing more than an occasional email or a few hours on one of the online social networks. Had it not been for my daily walks on the beach my muscles may have atrophied as much as my human contact.

The number one reason for my desire to return to the past was that I desperately needed to undo the damage that ruined my marriage in the first place. If I could go back and change that one fateful day; erase the day he met her…just maybe I could be happy again. Maybe I’d have enough self-confidence to go out and meet the world head-on. Maybe I wouldn’t feel like such a loser. And maybe I wouldn’t be so lonely any more.

This had to work. All signs pointed to the water.

∞

Later on in the day, during my walk on the beach, I decided to stop and take a short break. I sat down on a large, smooth rock and dug my heels into the sand. The surface of the rock was warm from the sun and it felt good to just sit and let the salty wind blow through my hair. A flock of noisy gulls flew over-head calling out to one another and out in the distance I spotted a large yacht.

I couldn’t help but wonder just how far out into the water I’d have to go. It would probably be quite cold this time of year - already well into October, and this was the first sunny day we’d had in a few weeks. The north-west coastal area was known for dark dreary days, and it never failed to live up to its reputation.

I took a long deep breath. Soon it would be far too cold to even enjoy these walks and I’d have to resort to using my treadmill. Unsure if I could make it through another long winter; I had to make a plan soon - or I would go insane.

I spent the next two weeks researching reports of missing persons and zeroed in on any story that appeared to be more mysterious in nature - or took place on or near watery areas. Finally, on a miserable, gray, rainy afternoon, I came across a police report that mentioned a remote area not too far from LaCrosse, Washington, where a young woman had disappeared in the Snake River in 1993. Her body was never found. As I read the report, the rain pelted my windows, now and then sounding much like someone was outside peppering the glass with a BB gun. Flashes of lightning lit up the dark skies, and an instant later the thunder crashed with such an earsplitting boom, that it caused a temporary deafness in my left ear. The lights flickered off for less than a second, but in that split-second my computer froze up on the page I had been reading, and just before the moment I lost the connection completely, I read a comment posted by an anonymous writer.

Another Snake River mystery – Saturday, October 30, 1999: Almost to the hour, disappearance mimics previous missing person report of – Saturday, October 30, 1993.

As my computer screen went dark I looked up at my calendar. In a few short days it would be October 30, 2010, which just happened to be a Saturday! I immediately recognized a pattern; this had to be more than just a coincidence. The two people had both disappeared on a Saturday, both in October, and on the 30th. Was there some kind of portal which opened periodically? If so, the door would open again soon, and this time I wanted to be the one ready to take that leap.

I rebooted my computer and searched for LaCrosse, Washington. It was about five hours from my previous home in Bainbridge Island, and I was quite familiar with most of the route. My mother had resided in Spokane and we always drove up Interstate 90 when we went to visit her before she passed away. LaCrosse appeared to be around 80 miles south of Spokane. As I listened to the repetitious clicking of my printer, memories came flying back, most of which I had fought desperately to forget.

I had loved my home in Bainbridge Island. And ironically, now she was living there with my ex-husband, Brent. The thing that galled me the most about this situation wasn’t just the fact that he let her move in, but back when we were together, his major complaint had always been about how much he despised his daily ten mile ferry ride into Seattle, and he never stopped threatening to move back to the city. Since I couldn’t afford the mortgage on my own, I was forced to move to a small cottage near Long Beach and had mistakenly assumed he’d sell the house and finally get his wish to move back to Seattle. I was so wrong.

I remembered the last time I heard from our mutual friend, Siobhan. It was apparent by her tone; she had some juicy new gossip, though it took me a long time to prod it out of her. When she finally spilled her guts and told me about Brent moving his girlfriend into my house, Siobhan swore me to secrecy. It was at that point when I realized my so-called friend was more concerned with Brent’s feelings than she was with mine. Good riddance. When I go back and fix things, I certainly won’t waste my time with her.

As I sat there staring at my computer screen, the silence in the room began to close in on me. And then, over my right shoulder came the ticking of my wall clock. I had never noticed how annoying that sound was. It almost seemed like the universe was reminding me; time is ticking…time waits for no man.

A short time later, I had printed up a map from my home to LaCrosse, from LaCrosse to the Snake River, and the articles on the missing people.

I made arrangements for my mail and paper to be put on hold, made reservations at the B & B near LaCrosse for the following day, October 28, hoping to give myself enough time for travel and scouting out the area, and I made a list of things I’d need to pack for my trip. Sitting back in my chair just as my crazy cat, Juniper jumped up onto my desk, I realized I’d need to make arrangements for her as well. I ran my fingers over her soft white fur and then scratched under her chin for a few moments. Her purring came so loud, it blocked out the sound of the clock ticking.

I reached for the phone and dialed my local vet to see about pet motel prices. While waiting on hold I clicked the television on and turned the volume down. Practical Magic was playing; a sweet love story. It only took a few more seconds and the receptionist came back. I made my reservations, though the receptionist was a bit rude when I couldn’t give her an exact date I’d be back to pick up Juniper. How would I know how long time-travel takes?

After hanging up and turning the sound of the television higher, the first thing I heard nearly sent me into cardiac arrest.

Can love really travel back in time and heal a broken heart?

I dropped the remote and it landed directly on the off button. The ticking of the clock echoed louder as the TV went silent.

Yes! I can go back in time and heal my broken heart! I yelled to the empty television screen.

Juniper jumped down off the desk with a soft thump. She looked up at me expectantly and then sniffed the remote. Heaving a loud sigh, I wished I could take her with me, but that would be impossible. Cats hate water.

Again I marveled at how every sign seemed to be prodding me to move forward with my plan. Even a silly movie on television made a reference at the exact time I needed to hear it. Coincidence? I didn’t think so. Or was I just losing my mind and fooling myself? Probably…But I was determined. And if my plan failed…oh well. I’d just be another statistic.

I picked up the remote and placed it on the table, shut down my computer, and turned the lights off behind me as I went into the bathroom to get ready for bed. I had a lot to do in the next few days and it seemed quite obvious I couldn’t afford to waste any time.

I washed my face and glanced into the mirror while patting it dry. My normally bright green eyes seemed to look more like unripe olives lately - sad and tired. I dabbed some face cream under and around my eyes hoping to stave off any early wrinkles. I’d be thirty this year, and although my skin was still smooth, I had noticed a few smile lines which, given the state of my life, was quite a feat.

I ran a brush through my strawberry blonde hair. It came to my shoulders and some of the layers had golden nugget colored highlights. It was naturally wavy, though on occasion I did wear it straight. I often wondered if I’d get a silver streak on only one side of my head like my mother had. Time would tell. I chuckled aloud at yet another reference about time. Juniper gave a loud meow from the other room in answer to my voice. She usually followed me into my room each night; it was odd that she wasn’t already on my bed waiting. Perhaps she sensed my impending absence and felt rejected already. I felt terrible and called to her at once.

Juni! Come here kitty. Juni!

I heard her drop down onto the floor with another soft thump, and she announced her arrival with a loud mew as she scampered to my feet and began rubbing against my legs. I scooped her up and stroked her soft fur as I walked into the bedroom. She winked at me, like she always did. I often wondered if there was something bothering her right eye. She was what they called an Odd-eyed cat. Her left eye was blue and the right yellowish-gold. She seemed perfectly normal in every other way. I gently set her on the foot of my bed and turned on the small television that sat on my dresser. After changing into my pajamas I crawled under the covers and Juniper took her place just to my side on top of the quilt. I reached over and softly scratched her head while listening to the extended weather report. Hoping to make good time on my drive, I didn’t need to run into any unexpected storms. The weatherman called for some rain in the next day or so, and I was happy to hear it wouldn’t be cold enough to snow quite yet. A sudden chill billowed over me just thinking about it, and I pulled the covers up to my chin. With a loud sigh, I burrowed down into the mattress and wished for the millionth time, that I didn’t have to sleep alone.

The next thing I knew, I was falling. The dark water looming below me sent me into a panic and yet at the same time, a strange and indefinable exhilaration seemed to envelope me as I descended – almost in slow motion. I held my breath just before plunging in - feet first. My skin was violently stabbed by a million shards of ice as the arctic water engulfed me. The initial shock nearly caused me to inhale, which would have been a colossal mistake. Within seconds the current tugged at me, pulling me deeper into the darkness. I struggled to push myself upwards, only to be yanked back down again and again. I didn’t know how much longer I could hold my breath, my heart was about to explode, and the numbness began to overtake me. I was nearly ready to relinquish myself. All I’d have to do is draw the frigid waters into my lungs and it would be over. But then, just like every other time, I became aware of the hand reaching for me. Only this time I noticed something unique. In the flash of light I can clearly see a large shiny ring on the man’s finger. The top is square and flat with initials of L and M engraved in the gold. His hand pulls me up and out of the water, and I’m finally able to inhale fresh clean air. Just as I began to cough, my eyes popped open.

Slowly it dawned on me; I was still in my room. Juniper started licking my hand as if to say ‘welcome back’ and the voice on the television was blaring about watches that keep excellent time.

Ok, okay, I got it! I bellowed into the air.

Juniper stopped licking my hand and looked up at me quizzically as she meowed. I was surprised she didn’t jump off the bed and run like the wind. She usually wasn’t one for loud noises. Needless to say, I didn’t get much sleep that night. Far too many voices in my head were telling me how stupid this idea was.

Disregarding the negative voices that kept me awake all night, the next morning I packed a bag, dropped Juniper off, stopped at the ATM machine for some cash, and after filling up my gas tank, headed east on Highway 101.

Life was challenging…

CHAPTER 2

There is a great moment, when you see, however distant – the goal of your wandering. The thing which has been living in your imagination suddenly becomes part of the tangible world.

~ Freya Stark ~

October 28, 2010

Once past the scenic ocean views on the coastal highway, the trip became less exciting, yet I continued on in my quest with resolve to carry it through. I drove for a little over three hours straight, making it to a small town located off I-90. I stopped for gas and spent a few moments stretching my legs, wandering around in the convenience store, and made it back to my car just as a light drizzle started, still