Coventry

By Kimberly Hill

What if, your whole life, you've always known who you are and what you're doing with your life? Then, what if you discovered everything you knew was wrong?
This is the realization of Catherine James. She has it all. She is successful, independent and has supportive friends. She has a loving family, and she achieves every goal she ever sets until her 26th birthday.
That night, Catherine questions all she trusts. She dreams of 11th century England, a prince she feels spiritually connecte

• Language: English
• Publisher: Fulton Books, Inc.
• Release date: Aug 21, 2015
• ISBN: 9781633380486

Book preview

Hill_Kimberly_10042_PBK_Other-(1333-x-2000).jpg

Coventry

Kimberly Hill

Copyright © 2014 Kimberly Hill

All rights reserved

First Edition

Fulton Books, Inc.

New York, NY

First originally published by Fulton Books 2014

ISBN 978-1-63338-070-7 (hardcover)

ISBN 978-1-63338-047-9 (paperback)

ISBN 978-1-63338-048-6 (digital)

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

9

10

11

12

13

14

15

16

17

18

19

20

21

Mackenzie Catherine, my beautiful daughter.

You are my heart and the inspiration that keep me fighting for my dreams.

Remember never give up on yours.

So love you!

Preface

Every little girl grows up in a fantasy—her imagination and her heart filling her dreams with hopes for a wonderful future. A future that will take her anywhere she wants to go at any given moment. She dreams of that euphoric feeling of finding her prince charming, her one true love who will beat all odds to rescue her and whisk her away to live happily ever after forever.

The innocence of our dreams and the reality of our fantasy world encompass us. Our hearts are alive and free to feel that anything is possible, allowing us to shine and become anything we want to be without fear. Then one day, we grow out of our princess dresses, evolving into the reality of society. It is then that our purest of dreams are buried within us, along with the child we leave behind as we grow into adulthood.

Somehow, deep down, we have to believe and hold on to those fantasies, those pure innocent feelings that hold true to the person we really are inside ourselves. Besieged with the realities of adult responsibilities, we start molding ourselves to be what we think others want us to become or see us to be, instead of following our own heart. Until one day we don’t know who we are anymore, where we’re going in life, or what our purpose is. Suddenly we know nothing of who we are inside, questioning the person we have become and wondering about the person we have always wanted to be.

Now we find ourselves on the road to self-discovery as we journey to free our mind and open our heart to the endless possibilities we once had as a child, only to discover that the answers have been with us all along.

As an adult, we put on the fanciest of dresses on the rainiest of days and dance in the mirror pretending. We still dream of that one love whose flame burns so deep in our heart that nothing could keep us apart from one another—not time, distance, or magic. Holding on to what we believe and what we feel is what we are. Dreams are possible. They are the reason for our existence and our perseverance.

After all my realities and responsibilities are finally established, I have found the direction of my true path. My heart’s truth has led me back to the innocence of my dreams and the reality of my fantasies, which still seem to exist within my soul. Searching deep within, I surprised myself in what I have found—two lifetimes, one soul, both running parallel: one from this lifetime and one from my last.

Every girl dreams of the fairytale and happily ever after; however, not every girl understands the struggle in the journey that it takes to get her there.

1

Unforeseen Changes

There was no way I could keep my eyes shut. It was almost midnight, and an unsettling feeling in my stomach kept me from a sound sleep. In eight hours, I will be on a flight to London to assume my new position at the Museum of London, one of many firsts in my twenty-six years of life. For a while, I just stared up at the ceiling of my old childhood bedroom, pondering.

I didn’t know what made me more nervous, leaving my family for the first time or fear of the unknown. I was going to miss the changing of the New England seasons, the smell of the spring flowers in bloom, the crisp, fresh ocean breeze on a summer night, and the ever-changing foliage of the fall. Most of all, I was going to miss my loving yet controlling mother, who was always meddling in my life, as well as my protective father, whom I had wrapped around my little finger. I was also going to miss the closeness of my family and friends, who were around whenever I needed them. My heart was telling me I had to go, that a job opportunity like this come but once in a lifetime. There was a strange pull inside me, securing my decision even more.

I had to go for reasons I didn’t quite understand, but my mind was curious about my heart’s outweighing decision. I still had so many unanswered questions. Out of all those applicants, as talented as they are, how did I end up getting the job? I blurted out. It was as if I was trying to convince myself that I was unqualified. I had always underestimated my knowledge, no matter how good I was at something. I was my own worst critic. My eyelids were getting as weighty as my inquisitiveness, which kept me thinking—thinking of the events that led me up to this moment. Soon I felt myself drifting off.

I was dreaming, but it felt so real, so clear, and for reasons I could not explain, it felt like I had been here before. I was in a castle at a ball. My dress was long, an enchanting flowery Grecian goddess gown made from soft-pink moleskin fabric, with a round pleated neckline, tailor-fitted long sleeves, ruffled shoulder, and a sexy corset-fashion lacing. Along the sleeves laid eye-catching golden embroidered trims and a row of medieval buttons. The dress was breathtaking.

My hair was simply swept away from my face and pinned loosely behind my head, while my long golden brown curls hung freely below my shoulders. I did not believe myself a commoner, as the way I was dressed revealed otherwise.

The castle was of medium size and very beautiful, built of ivory stone and set on a grassy plateau. But it was still big enough that I found myself wondering endlessly. Finally finding my way out a side entrance, I approached a narrow stone pathway, which led to a lavish garden, one so beautiful and serene. I was walking around the garden, enjoying the stillness of the night and the brightness of the moon shining on the blooming flowers. It must be early spring. The wind was still and the air slightly crisp. I sat on a large stone that lay in the center of the garden. I was enjoying every moment the beautiful night had to offer—the clear dark sky, the shiny stars that lit in abundance, and the bright glow from the full moon above me.

A voice suddenly came, startling me. You are the most beautiful creature that I have ever seen, a statue of a goddess that belongs encircled by such beautiful surroundings. It suits you, he said, sounding intrigued by the sight of me.

Thank you, sir. I am flattered by such a kind word, I replied, not realizing who he was. When he approached me closer, I became aware that it was the prince of England. I suddenly jumped to my feet and curtsied. I am so sorry, Your Majesty, for I had not known it was you.

Please, there is no need to apologize, he said politely. It was I who startled you as you were enjoying such a peaceful moment.

Please, Your Majesty, it would be my pleasure if you would enjoy this beautiful garden with me. After all, it is yours, I said in a very soft voice as I was quite nervous of his presence. My stomach was fluttering. Please excuse my rudeness. I am Countess Catherine Mason, daughter of Edmond Mason, earl of Mercia, and the late Grace Mason, countess of Mercia. As I spoke, I placed my hand in front of him, palm down, in hope that he would accept my introduction.

After kissing my hand, he replied with a charming smile, The pleasure is all mine, Countess.

At that moment, it was as if Cupid’s arrow had pierced my heart. I could not look away from his entrancing gray-blue eyes. It was as if he was speaking to me without saying a word.

Suddenly I heard a woman call my name. Catherine, honey!

"Mom!" I said, knowing at that point that I was dreaming, one that which I did not want to wake from.

It wasn’t the first time my dreams had taken me to a medieval castle and a prince. It was always the same castle and the same prince. My dreams had been going on about a month now since my birthday in February, and I had yet to figure out why.

Morning crept up on me so fast. All I remember was drifting off and seeing my beautiful dream. Then all of a sudden, my mom was whispering for me to get up. As much as I want you to stay, if you don’t get up, you will miss your flight. Her voice rang calm and caringly in my ear.

I rolled to my side to face her. Our eyes met, and I felt like I was looking at her for the first and the last time. My lips couldn’t help but smile as I tried to acknowledge her. Hi, Mom, I whispered in a low, rough voice. I’m getting up, I promise. Give me a few minutes to get myself together, and I should be ready to go.

I watched her slowly turn to leave my room as if she didn’t want to go. Approaching the door, she turned back slightly, giving me a proud smile. I know you will find what you’re looking for, she said softly. You always seem to find your way, and that is why I know I can let you go. Blowing me a kiss, she shut the door behind her.

A tear started to form in my right eye. After all these years and endless counts of prying, I had never seen my mom so confident in me and so sure of my decisions.

I knew I had to take this journey. It was a need, a need to find where this pull was leading to and a necessity to figure out whom and what I really was.

I rose from the bed, fixed the room up to its original state before my return home, and continued packing the last of my luggage. It had only been two weeks prior that I had left my apartment. All my belongings had been packed up and shipped out to my new flat in London, which I found on my short visit a month ago. All I had now was one suitcase, a carry-on, and my laptop. I wanted to travel as light as possible, if I could. My new boss, Henry Kent, and his wife, Margaret, were picking me up at the airport in London. They were going to make sure that I got properly settled in since it would be my first time to be living in England.

Henry and his wife were an older couple with no children of their own. On my last trip to London, they had taken me to dinner. Margaret took right to me, and soon she treated me as if I were her own daughter. I guess it is nice in a way. At least I won’t be alone, I thought.

I finished getting dressed. I knew it was going to be a long flight, so I wanted to be as comfortable as possible. I threw on my favorite worn-out blue jeans, a Boston Redsox T-shirt, and tennis shoes. I made sure my hair was up neatly in a ponytail and put on the smallest amount of eye makeup. It was just enough to give me a little color. Grabbing my bags, I gave my old room a once-over one last time. As sad as I was to go, it was time and I was ready, shutting the door behind me. I then carried my bags downstairs, dropping them by the door. I proceeded to the kitchen to find something to fill my stomach. To my surprise, my parents were sitting at the kitchen table, having coffee. My dad had made me my favorite breakfast, pancakes with whipped cream and strawberries. Mmmm!

Good morning, pumpkin. Made your favorite, he said, grinning slightly.

Thanks, Dad. I’m going to miss you too. Don’t forget you can visit, I reminded them. I knew my dad so well, and with the pancakes, it was easy to read between the lines. After two cups of coffee and after devouring my pancakes as if I had never eaten before, we left. I didn’t want to take any chances on missing my flight.

I said good-bye to my mother, while my father loaded the bags into the car. My mom couldn’t stand to see me off at the airport. It would break her heart. Therefore, Dad was flying solo on this one. I love you, Mom. Take care of Dad, and I promise to call you once a week, I spoke slowly, trying to fight back the tears that wanted to gush out.

I love you, my baby girl, she whispered, as tears rolled down her cheeks. Remember this is your home and you are welcome anytime.

I know, Mom, I said, hugging her tightly. I didn’t know if either one of us could let go.

My dad was already in the car, beeping the horn impatiently. Come on, Emma! Catherine has a flight to catch, he yelled.

Hugging and kissing me one last time, she let me go and waved good-bye. We drove off.

I couldn’t imagine how she was feeling or how hard it must be to let your only child go. I was twenty-six and on my own, but I had never been but within miles from her. Now we were going to be continents apart. Watching your child leave must be the hardest thing to do, but it’s their time now too, time my parents finally live their life together again.

To my surprise, there were no lines. I guess that was the benefit to early flights. I checked in my suitcase, got my seat assignment, and made my way to the gate. So far so good. It was going to be a long flight. The only good thing about leaving from Logan Airport was that it was a direct flight, so there would be no pit stops along the way. I loaded my carry-on into the overhead compartment and put my laptop bag under the seat in front of me. Finally, I snapped my seatbelt together and settled comfortably into my seat. I then began looking out the window, waiting for the plain to take off.

The plane took off right on time at 8:35 a.m. Before long, we were in the air and on our way to London. I was trying to make the flight go by faster by reading. That didn’t work. Sleeping didn’t work, either. At this rate, it was going to be a really long flight. As I let out what must be a long sigh of frustration, a flight attendant stopped by with pillows and blankets. Smiling with hope, I accepted. I adjusted myself into a comfortable position, put my iPod on, and then began to run down all the reasons for leaving Boston, my home. It can’t hurt. It may actually put me to sleep.

My life seemed to be going according to plan. I was assistant history curator for the Concord Museum, located in Boston’s bordering town of Concord, a moderate-sized city, well-populated and rich with culture and history. I had a beautiful two-bedroom apartment ten miles from work, and all my family and friends lived within twenty miles of my home. Every goal I had set for myself since I was seventeen, I’d achieved; at least I thought so until midnight of my twenty-sixth birthday.

It was a normal Friday. I’d worked until 5:00 p.m. My best friend, Jane, took me to dinner at the Tuscan Grill downtown before we stopped for a few drinks at Jeremiah’s on Newbury Street. It was a typical Friday night. I returned home around 11:30 p.m. I got into my comfy cotton lounge pants and white Henley T-shirt, took off what was left of my faded makeup, and quickly brushed my teeth. I was excited to just sit down to a hot cup of tea and a good movie.

By the time I felt relaxed, it was already midnight and I began searching the cable on demand movie listing until I found the movie Twilight. The description read, "An epic romance about a girl Bella Swan who doesn’t expect much when she moves to a small town of Forks, Washington, and meets the mysterious and handsome Edward Cullen, a boy hiding a dark secret—he’s a vampire. As their worlds and hearts collide, Edward must battle the bloodlust raging inside him as well as the coterie of undead that would make Bella their prey. Based on the #1 New York Time’s best-selling sensation by Stephanie Meyer, Twilight adds a dangerous twist to the classic story of star-crossed lovers."

Hmmm. I’d heard of the movie, but I wasn’t sure if I would like it. But I was a sucker for a good romance, let alone a fantasy romance. I’m in, I said to myself, as I hit the Buy button on the controller.

When I finally looked up at the clock, it was already 2:20 a.m. The movie was long and had emotionally sucked me in to its unbelievable plot. For some anomalous reason, I found that it left me with this unusual feeling about myself, like the true emotions of the plot, and the idea of fantasy and reality together had unlocked a door to my subconscious. I don’t believe that the movie itself had any effect on me. But the idea where fiction met reality suddenly wasn’t too impossible. It sounded silly if you think about it. I felt like the doors to my subconscious had burst open. For so long, I was empty. But now—now I’m feeling an abundance of emotions within myself that I had never felt before.

That night, everything changed for me both mentally and physically. Because it was my birthday, I found it very odd. It was as if I was new in my old body, looking at myself differently. It was then I would dream of eleventh-century England for the first time, understand things I had never known before, let alone thought to be true—until now. Everything suddenly changed overnight, the way I thought and felt about people and issues, as well as the way I looked at life.

These dreams of me being in another time at another place were so vivid and real. So much so it was as if they were trying to tell me something, giving me a sign of who I was metaphorically. It was after the dreams began that I decided that I needed a change and began searching for jobs in London. I figured these dreams were trying to tell me something. They were driving me to a place that reoccurred repeatedly in my head. The dreams talked to me, pulling my body and mind into an emotional state where there was no choice. It felt as if it was a need for survival.

I was now on my way to London, a new position awaiting me and a journey to find myself. Not knowing where it was going to lead, I could only hope that fate would guide me in the right direction and show me the way home—home to a place where I belong. Right now, I didn’t know where that place was because I feel so lost within myself.

I woke to the sound of the pilot asking us to put our seat belts on and prepare for landing. You’ve got to be kidding me, I blurted out to the woman sitting beside me. I think she thought I was crazy. I thought I was crazy too. I had been asleep for seven hours—the whole flight! Wow! I exclaimed in shock. My seatbelt was still buckled from takeoff, so there was nothing for me to do but wait. I did know that once I got off the plane, I seriously needed to freshen up. All that sleeping made me feel stale.

Within thirty minutes, the plane descended and taxied into the gate. I was hoping Henry and Margaret were there. I was looking forward to seeing them again and starting my new job. Henry wanted me to start settling in next week and get my flat ready. It seemed like priority to him. He was more like a father to me than my boss, but we managed to compromise.

The seatbelt sign was finally turned off. Everyone began standing and unloading their carry-on luggage. I waited a few minutes for the chaos to die down before I attempted to get my belongings. Once the threat of being trampled diminished, I grabbed my two carry-on pieces and proceeded to exit the plane, taking a deep breath and exhaling loudly. I announced to myself, This is it. We can do this.

In no time at all, I continued up the ramp out the gate door, making it through customs and into the terminal. Henry and Margaret Kent were waiting there for me with pure delight glowing across their pale faces at my safe arrival. They both greeted me with big hugs. They welcomed me with a kiss to either side of my face. At that moment, for some strange reason, it felt like home.

Henry was leading me to baggage claim to gather up my suitcase, while Margaret was asking me twenty questions about the flight, like whether I ate anything. She was so excited that I had finally arrived. You would have never guessed that I was a new employee at the museum. For the strangest reason, Henry and Margaret treated me more like their daughter. They were nice people, and I did not see any harm in it. My family was so far away now that it would be nice to be around people who were like family, so I just let it go. After retrieving my suitcase off the revolving luggage rack, Henry escorted us out of the airport.

Henry and I would like to take you to dinner before we drop you off at your flat, if that’s okay with you, dear? Margaret offered with a warm smile.

I would enjoy that very much. Thank you, I said in appreciation of all their kindness. I was feeling quite hungry now that she’d mentioned food. I had slept right through the meal on the flight, and I could eat a horse right about now.

Once we made it to the outskirts of the airport into Central London, Henry pulled into a small café. It was already eight o’clock in the evening. The sun had just set, and the city lights now visibly sparkled in the dusk sky. It was so beautiful. He managed to get us a table outside of the café; the weather was warm and comfortable without any humidity. England’s spring started in February, a month earlier than in the United States, which I enjoyed immensely.

After enjoying a wonderful meal with gracious company, I was getting rather sleepy. Tomorrow was Sunday, and I was looking forward to getting my belongings in order before I headed to my first day of work on Monday.

The Kents dropped me off at my new flat on Great Eastern Street in Shoreditch, only fifteen minutes by car from central London and only five minutes from the museum. It was a very spacious for a two-bedroom flat located on the second floor in an area now considered part of the London borough.

A strong pull came over me as I opened the door of my flat for the first time. This feeling somehow reminded me that I was missing something. I walked into the sitting room, placing my keys on the small glass table to the right of the door. I then proceeded to the most beautiful fireplace that set the scenery of the rooms’ Victorian style decor. Opposite the sitting room was the open kitchen-dining area sectioned off by an island with two stools.

The new flat was accommodating, with the neighboring Old Street and Liverpool Street stations and more than enough bus routes. Its location was wonderfully placed for transportation links to the city. Even more conveniently, my flat was located within walking distance to my work.

Mrs. Sarah Rowe, a widow of sixty-five, owned the apartment building. She was a nice woman and a great help to me. She had let the movers in when my belongings had arrived from the States, and she had the whole flat cleaned from top to bottom before any of my stuff had arrived. All I had to do was unpack, which was work in itself, but I did like to decorate, so it was going to be fun to see what I could do with the place to make it my own.

With this feeling inside of me, I felt quite alone and sad. Maybe I was just overtired and making more of it than it was. I decided to lie on my mattress just to rest for a second before I unpacked my suitcase, but I found myself gradually drifting off to sleep.

I casually walked up a winding dirt drive as if I were lost in thought. Happiness touched my cheeks, glowing with a big smile. I decided to walk home after the ball, trying to rewind every moment that evening had presented me, especially the ones with England’s handsome prince.

The manor was of medium size, made of grey stone and set within a lightly wooded grassland. To the left of the manor was an old house for the servants. To the east of the primary building was a solar, which was a domestic chamber for the servants to congregate. Close by were two barns, one for wheat and one for oats. Past the middle gate was a stable for the livestock.

I made my way through the pleasant and charming hall, well preserved with oak. I crept to my sleeping chamber, not wanting to wake my father so late. My mother had died a year to this very season, and it was now just my father and I along with our servants at the manor.

Time with the prince had run away with me in the garden, and I knew that father had already made it back from the ball. I quickly shed my gown, left only to my shift, and sat at the end of my feather bed, brushing my long brown curls and wondering if I would ever see him again. I knew King Stephen had given the ball in his son’s honor, but what I did not know was how long the prince would be in Coventry and if he was feeling the same overwhelming feelings for me as I was for him. Laying my head down, I let my thoughts of the intriguingly handsome lad put me to sleep.

The sound of chimes began going off in my head, and they would not stop. Please, make them stop! I shouted, holding my ears. I was half-asleep, only jumping up to realize that it was 8:00 a.m. and my cell phone was ringing. I had been dreaming again. I tried grabbing the phone before it stopped ringing, but I couldn’t make it. Who’s calling me so early? Don’t they know I’m jet-lagged? Looking at the number, I realized it was my parents. I had forgotten to call them last night and let them know that I had made it safely. I planned on it, but what I hadn’t planned on was passing out dead cold in my clothes.

Since I was already up, I decided to be productive. First, I called my parents back. They were happy to hear that everything was fine and figured that jetlag was the reason for my missed call, so they weren’t too upset. After getting that task out of the way, I walked to Starbucks on the corner of Great Eastern Street to grab breakfast and a really strong coffee that I so desperately needed. As I had nothing edible at my place just yet, I had to make sure I thanked God for the great location. It was a beautiful spring morning already, about sixty-five degrees outside and the streets were populated with natives and sightseeing tourists. People were Rollerblading and bike riding. I felt invigorated by the excitement of being in a new place and seeing things with new eyes. With so many things to learn and explore, I felt like a little kid.

I grabbed my breakfast and enjoyed every minute of the day’s beauty as I headed back to my flat. I knew I was going to be inside most of the day, so I got as much as I could while I had the time. I had to get the place settled. That was a priority.

The day pretty much flew by. I unpacked almost everything, placing it in its rightful location. I hung paintings on the walls and arranged—and rearranged—the furniture to my liking. I hung curtains in all the rooms, made my bed, and put all my clothes and shoes away. All I had to do was get some groceries and I would be good to go - not bad for one day’s work. Grabbing my keys, I headed out the door in search of food.

We had passed a Marks and Spencer grocery store yesterday on the way to my flat. It was about ten minutes down the road. I figured I would walk there and take a cab back. It was times like these when I knew I needed a car.

I found shopping in a new place rather interesting as I people-watched as much as I shopped. There was just so much to take in. I decided to enjoy it now because after a couple of months, I know it would become routine and the newness would wear off. I made sure I picked up everything I needed that would last me a couple of weeks. I could visit the local vegetable stand to pick up fruits and veggies as I ran out, but the necessities should last me a while. I paid for my groceries and headed outside to catch a cab. Within fifteen minutes, I was home. Now that wasn’t so bad, I said to myself, grinning at my sense of accomplishment.

I unloaded all the groceries into the entryway of my apartment building first. No need to keep the meter running on the cab. I then made my first trip up the two flights of stairs with half the grocery bags, carefully trying not to drop anything. As I approached my flat, I noticed an envelope with my name on it taped to the door. I wondered who it could be. No one but Henry and Margaret knew me here. I pulled the envelope off the door without opening it and proceeded to lay the groceries on the center island. I ran up and down again to retrieve the remaining bags still on the entryway floor. Once I knew I had everything from downstairs, I forgot about the groceries and concentrated on the fancy envelope. It was made of old, heavy paper that wasn’t even manufactured anymore, and it was sealed with a wax crest. That’s odd, I mumbled to myself.

I opened the envelope, trying not to break the wax. I wanted to preserve as much as I could in case I needed to research it at the museum. The note inside was of the same dated paper that contained a small paragraph written in a neatly scripted hand. It read,

Welcome home, our dearest Catherine. It has been a while, hasn’t it? On the other hand, do you not remember who you are? What a shame! Well, I do, and I have not forgotten, either. Consider this a warning: I will be watching you! ~I.

I must have read the note a half dozen times and was still at a loss for words. I didn’t know who this could be. I didn’t know anyone with the initial I, and it said our Catherine. Who else could this person be referring to? Of course, this was my first time living in England. I didn’t know anyone, but I did know, that I was Catherine James. Is this some kind of stupid joke? I muttered under my breath.

All sorts of crazy ideas were running through my head. Maybe they have the wrong Catherine? The scary thing was that there was a vendetta here, a feeling of hatred and a warning of revenge hinted. That was damn scary. What are the odds? Here two days, and I’m already in trouble? Moreover, I know nothing about it. I’ll keep this little note on the low from Henry for now. No need to worry someone else. I’ll try to find out myself who sent this, and the only thing I can do is watch my back for now. I placed the dated note in my purse and tried to put it out of my mind for the time being as I proceeded to unpack the groceries and put them away.

I made myself some dinner, showered, and laid out my clothes for the morning. It was going to be an early night because tomorrow was my first day of work, and I had to be at my best.

2

Fitting Right In

Waking up a half an hour before the alarm clock went off was a first for me. I’d never been a morning person, but I guess things had changed. Even people change, and I was slowly figuring that out. I made my way into the bathroom, brushed my teeth, and washed my face before I enjoyed a relaxing shower. My nerves were a little on edge this morning, first day jitters and all. The hot water beating off my neck never felt so good.

I slept quite comfortably last night. There were no dreams of princes or castles—at least I didn’t remember anyone except a strange woman with very pale-skin, a narrow-jawed face, long blond hair, and charcoal eyes. I didn’t remember what the dream entailed, but her face was beautiful. Withdrawn but wicked, the picture of her stuck with me. Dismissing my thoughts for the time being, I tried to put myself together in a timely fashion.

I finished applying the little amount of makeup that I did wear and brushed my long dark hair that I wore straight. I dressed fast, grabbing a pair of charcoal boot-cut logo pants off the hanger and white-fitted V-neck shirt with pintucked trim. Last, I put on my white strappy heeled sandals. I added some simple silver jewelry to accentuate my look. Then grabbing my purse and keys, I slid out the door and made my way downstairs.

It was only eight o’clock, and I was actually early for once in my life, which was a good thing. I made my way down Great Eastern Street, stopping at Starbucks to grab a coffee and muffin. I continued to enjoy the sights, sounds and smells of my fifteen-minute walk into the city.

As I approached with awe, the Museum of London looked beautiful. I gazed at the huge building for the first time; at least the first time as an employee. At this exact moment, it felt like I belonged here. Around me, the streets were bustling with people, tourists starting their day of sightseeing, along with average locals like me.

I finally found my way up the steep marble steps into the museum’s colossal foyer, where the museum’s receptionist greeted me.

Can I help you? a young woman in her early twenties asked with a welcoming smile on her face.

I’m Catherine James. I’m here to pick up my badge this morning. I smiled back at her.

Yes, good morning, Ms. James. We’re so pleased to have you with us here at the museum. She handed me my picture badge.

Thank you. I’m so pleased to be here, I replied, enjoying her warm welcome.

I’m Nicole Lytton, the museum’s scheduling and general receptionist. Anything you need, just let me know. She smiled at me again. One more thing before you go, Ms. James. Certain areas of the museum require security authorization. Your badge already has authorization for those areas. All you have to do is swipe it, and you should be able to gain access. If you have any problems with the badge not working, just bring it to my attention, and I will take care of it.

Thank you for all your help, Nicole. Wishing her a good morning, I proceed down the main foyer and took my second left, which took me to my new office.

The gold plate under the glass window of the door read, Catherine James, Medieval/Renaissance Senior Curator.

Rather impressed, I opened the door to my new home for at least ten hours each day. The space was of medium size with somewhat modern office furniture, a wood desk facing the door and with two cushioned chairs in front of it. A coat rack stood to the right of the door, while six file cabinets were placed against the right wall, with one horizontal file cabinet against the left. Framed photos of the Medieval and Renaissance periods were hung on the walls. Henry’s personal touch, I assume. The desk was fully equipped with all the needed office supplies, along with a telephone and portable laptop, which sat in the middle of the desk. Despite the average size of the room, it looked quite small and crowded. It was cluttered with numerous boxes of historical data and artifacts that had been waiting for my arrival.

A bouquet of spring flowers sat on the edge of the right side of the desk with a note attached. It read, Welcome, Catherine! we are all so happy you’re here. —From all of us!

I couldn’t believe how lucky I was. I felt so welcomed. Smiling, I pulled a framed photo of my parents out of my purse and placed it on my desk before placing my bag in my bottom drawer.

The Post-It on the laptop informed me that it was all set up and ready for use. I had previously filled out all the proper paperwork and personal information on my first visit to London, trying to avoid any delay in my work once I started.

Turning my laptop on, I signed myself in and went on to check my calendar and emails, making sure that I did not miss anything on my first day. Henry had a staff meeting at 9:30 a.m., so I had to make sure I left a little early. I still had no idea where any of the conference rooms were located. After that, my calendar was wide open, which gave me all afternoon to sort through and organize everything in the boxes. I knew it was going to be a long day, yet I was excited. I didn’t know what was waiting for me in those boxes, a mystery of undiscovered history and the part of my job that I loved.

Eating my muffin, I puttered around my office, trying to waste the hour until Henry’s meeting. I didn’t want to start organizing and then have to stop, so I just decided to wait.

Around 9:15 a.m., I heard a knock on my door. I looked up to notice Henry Kent, my boss, staring at me with excited eyes.

Looks like you’ve gotten yourself all settled in, my dear?

Indeed, I have. Well…besides going through all these boxes, I said, with a smug grin. You could have warned me, I added, trying not to complain.

I thought you would get a kick out of it.

Oh, I did.

We both laughed.

I came to pick you up for the staff meeting. I knew you would have no clue as to where the room was.

Thanks, Henry, you’re a lifesaver. Smiling, I grabbed my coffee, a pen, and my daily organizer, as he led the way to the conference room.

We were the last ones to arrive, so I shut the door behind me and found a seat around the large cherry oval conference table. The heads of all the departments were in attendance. It was rather intimidating. The museum consisted of many departments, which included modern