Page 8 of Promises Made at Midnight
“I’ll be okay. I’ll take a break from it all for a few minutes to collect myself and return in a few. Will you let everyone know that I’ll be back in a bit?” Bridgette asked, once again wiping the sweat from her brow.
“Sure. No problem, but take some more water with you. You really don’t look well,” Megan replied. She poured more water into Bridgette’s cup.
“Thanks. I’ll see you later.”
With her goblet filled with icy water and parasol in hand, she began making her way across the lawn to find a place that wasn’t overrun with event goers. Continuing past the living history portion of the fair, she walked toward the back entrance to see a tall maple tree near the fence line. A fountain stood in the center of the empty area and a white iron bench with bushes behind it welcomed her to sit beneath the shade of the towering tree.
She made her way to the bench and sighed in pleasure that she had the place to herself. That seem unusual, given the number of attendees at the fair. Setting down her parasol, she took a sip of water and gazed at the fountain. Someone had really gone all out with this project, and she was a little surprised to see that she was the only one enjoying what was before her. After all, this setting was so completely… perfect.
The fountain itself was round and nothing out of the ordinary, but it was the centerpiece that captured her attention as water bubbled up from its base with a relaxing quality to calm her frayed nerves. Even though he was etched in granite, the knight holding his sword in one hand and a shield with a cross in the other appeared so lifelike it was alarming. He was looking down as he knelt on one knee, and was incredibly handsome, like no other man she had ever seen before in her entire life.
In many ways, he reminded her of a Roman soldier of old, from the arrogant jut of his classic nose to his sinful lips, just begging to be kissed. His hair flowed almost to his shoulders as if the artist had captured its length to perfection as the wind caught its length. Broad shoulders were covered by a cape that also appeared as if it billowed in the unseen breeze. Instead of chainmail, he appeared covered in a leather jerkin vest with a shorter sleeved shirt. His arms bulged with muscle and his hands… Good heavens… what would it feel like to have those long-sculpted fingers caressing her skin? She was almost envious of the hilt of his sword, grasped by his hand.
He appeared as a true and chivalrous knight if she ever saw one or could conjure one up from her imagination. Wasn’t it just her luck she’d find the man of her dreams not as a living breathing specimen but one only carved from stone? He really was drop down gorgeous and she would have just loved to see him in full color. Still, the artist had obviously spent an incredible amount of time to create such a vivid display of male sexuality. She wondered who the model had been and what had been the color of the man’s eyes.
“Blue,” a faraway voice whispered in the afternoon breeze. The sound caressed her body, wrapping itself around Bridgette like a comfortable blanket. She shivered but it had nothing to do with being cold.
Bridgette turned her head to the right, since she swore that was the direction the words had come from but there was no one there. A hand came to rest on her left arm and she about jumped right out of her skin. Startled, she turned to see the lady from yesterday sitting next to her. Where the hell had she come from?
“Hello again, Bridgette,” she said kindly, with a welcoming smile.
“Hi,” she replied, wondering how she couldn’t see someone coming to sit down next to her.
“Ye were far away, my dear,” the woman remarked knowingly, as if she had heard Bridgette’s unspoken question. Once again, the woman patted her hand in understanding, much as she did yesterday.
“I guess I was. I didn’t even see you come to sit next to me.”
“’Tis all right,” the lady replied, and turned to gaze up at what had held Bridgette’s attention. “His eyes were blue.”
“Don’t you meanareblue?” Bridgette questioned.
“Wereorare, ’tis all the same as far asTimeis concerned.”
Not understanding what the woman meant, Bridgette was too polite to question her further and continued to stare at the handsome figure in front of her. She pointed to the statue. “Where in the world do you think they got such a perfect guy in this day and age to model for this? He’s just the ideal personification of what a gorgeous knight should look like.”
The woman next to her gave a soft laugh. “Oh, he is not from around these parts, dearie.”
“That figures,” Bridgette grumbled, but she continued voicing her inner thoughts with a dream-like sigh. “I sure would love for our paths to cross.”
“Would ye now?”
“Of course. Just look at him. The man is the embodiment of every romantic notion I’ve ever had inside my head. Too bad he’s not a local. He looks like a guy you could fall in love with.”
“Hmm…aye, I suppose he was at that, as long as ’twas with the right woman,” the lady replied, “and in the right place in time.”
“Do you know him? Maybe you could give him my card,” Bridgette said discreetly. Reaching inside her sleeve, she pulled out a business card and tried to hand it to the lady. “I know I’m not supposed to carry these, but I sure would like to meet this guy.”
The woman gazed at her from the corner of her eye. Since she didn’t reach for the card, Bridgette assumed she had offended the woman. She put the card back, feeling like an idiot for asking such a thing of a complete stranger in the first place.
“Funny thing aboutTime,” the woman continued, ignoring Bridgette’s lapse of etiquette. “’Tis never predictable and never answers yer wishes when ye want it tae, until ye at last find what ye be looking fer.”
Bridgette pointed to the statue in front of her. “Do you mean him?”
“Aye.”
Bridgette politely laughed. “Believe me, madam, I’ve been wishing for someone like him to drop into my life… well… forallmy life.”
“Maybe ye haven’t been wishing hard enough.”
