Hello again, friends, and welcome to day 2 of Linda Hill’s #JusJoJan24 event! Since the prompt for today lends itself well to the course of my unfinished tale, I thought I would follow our unwitting travelers for bit and address the Gregorian prompt. I hope you enjoy…

The Tower of Winds, Vatican Rome

”Ooof!” Dechlan grunted as he tumbled down the rocky slope and landed with a thud against a stone wall. His duffel hit him in the head and he raised his hands instinctively for protection. His hands. He looked at them, horrified to realize he’d somehow lost hold of Noni’s when they made the jump. The sun beaming from its prime position told him they were heading into the afternoon wherever they might be, so he scrambled to his feet and looked around frantically. They’d been holding hands when they leapt from the train, so she just had to be there, somewhere. The grassy slope seemed to lead only into blue sky so he decided to follow the stone wall. He grabbed the duffel and heaved it over his shoulder, checking for major injuries. With only a few tears and grass stains on his clothes he started looking for the love of his life.

He’d only gone about 100 yards when he heard a faint cry. Dechlan stopped and cocked his head, trying to hear where it was coming from. Nothing. After a few minutes he began walking again, following the carefully built rock wall. When it took a turn around the hill, the cry came again and he had no trouble hearing it or knowing whose voice it was. He gripped his bag and ran up the steep slope in the direction from where it came.
“Help me!” She called. “Oh Dech, where are you?” The desperation in that voice chilled his soul and he answered it, hoping to calm Noni.
“Non, I’m here! Stay where you are. I’m coming!” he shouted and hoped she heard him. As he moved up the slope he saw a huge tree with sweeping limbs reaching toward the ground and stopped for a moment to catch his breath. That’s when he saw movement and the deep orange hue of Noni’s sweater. He was instantly grateful they’d left in the middle of a particularly cold Autumn, for the chill in the air was bitter.
“Noni!” He shouted and waved his arms over his head. For a moment he didn’t think she’d heard him, but then a thin wisp of orange swayed over the ground like a flickering flame and he smiled, hurrying up the hill.
“Oh, god, Dech, I thought I’d lost you,” she lamented when he knelt beside her.

”Are you hurt?” he fretted, trying to evaluate her situation. He ran his hands over her jeans and up her arms gently, looking for obvious tears in them. Noni sat up, trying to acclimate to their new surroundings. She brushed the grass from her legs and started picking burs from her sweater.

”I think I’m okay,” she said, brushing the auburn tendrils of hair from her face. “But I fear my sweater may have suffered fatally.” She poked her finger through a quarter sized tear in the yarn just below where her navel would be and wiggled it.

Dechlan grabbed it and leaned in to kiss her cheek. What would he have done if they’d been separated? He shook his head, not wanting to consider it.
“Do you think you can walk?” he asked as he stood up, offering her his hand.
“Yes, of course I can,” she assured as she got to her feet. Then her right knee buckled and she winced, dropping back onto the grass. “Oh, my ankle feels twisted.” He knelt again and pushed up her pants leg, groaning when he saw the deep blue that already was spreading beneath her skin. He knew she needed to get off of it and get something cold onto that bruise.
“Wait here,” he patted her arm and darted up the hill and out of sight for a few minutes. When he returned he was holding a size able branch and stripping it of its dying leaves as he walked. When he reached Noni he held it out proudly.
“Your temporary crutch, m’lady,” he bowed and laid the branch at her feet. How could she not love such a man? Noni laughed and picked up the stick as Dech helped her up again. “Better?” he asked. When she nodded, he picked up her duffel and slung it across his back along with his own bag draped over his shoulder, ready to move. Noni found it easier to use just the crutch without holding on to him. He was so much taller and it put her off balance.
“I’m sorry things went sideways so fast,” she whispered. “But it doesn’t feel too painful, and I don’t think it’s broken. How about you, then?” She turned to look at him and pulled some stray weeds from his dark curls.
“Ah, me, I’m right as rain. My pride may be a bit injured after that tumble, but as long as we’re in this together I’ll be grand.”
“Look!” She cried as they cleared the trees and approached the ridge of the hill. A few more careful steps and they stood looking out across a city that both recognized as far removed from the one they’d left behind, both physically as well as out of time. While Noni’s creative brain struggled to place the familiar complex, Dechlan knew it immediately.
“Now where do you suppose we’ve landed, college boy?” she asked. Dechlan had not only graduated university but also had his Masters. He just didn’t realize there wouldn’t be a great demand for graduates with a degree in the architectural and fine arts histories, unless he wanted to teach. He’d had enough of schools and tests, and grading systems. So, once he’d failed at procuring a museum or gallery administrative position, he’d taken whatever jobs he could find. His last employer had laughed at his degree and asked what on Earth he was doing applying at an electronics outlet. Dechlan had just smiled and lied.
‘Well, your company has a good reputation and seems a fine place to move ahead. Sir.’ He knew they liked the ‘sir’ bit. They always did. And it paid the bills so that he and Noni could plan their wedding. He jumped when she elbowed him.
“What? Having trouble placing it? If you don’t know then, we truly are in trouble,” she said.
He cleared his throat and surveyed the nearby complex again before pointing to what looked like a tower, still in the process of completion. “If memory serves me, I believe we are standing beyond the gates of the Vatican. And that tower there is the Tower of Winds, an addition to the original Gregorian Tower.”

”You mean Gregorian, as in the late 15th century?” she gasped.
“Well, yes, and as in the age when men were still working out just how to record the passage of time. There were several renovations made to that tower so that more precise astronomical calculations could be made. Old Pope Gregory XIII, doing his best to muck up our lives from the start.”
“So, that tall hat man was responsible for my life on the hamster wheel?” She frowned.

”Well, maybe not single-handedly, but he did provide the tool of requisitioning our lives for future capitalism at the hands of the greedy.”

Noni started hobbling down the hill alongside the wall.
“Where are you going?” he asked, suddenly concerned about how they would be received in this other-time world.
“Well, I didn’t come all this way not to try and make a difference in our lives.”

Dech hurried to catch up. When deep voices drifted over the wall they both ducked to ground, listening. “Damn, why didn’t I take Italian language studies?” he groused.
Noni knew a bit of Spanish from her school days growing up in LA and could pick out similar words in the conversation between the men.
“They’re just arguing about the build. I think.” When she tried to peek over the wall her ankle screamed, reminding her of its injury, and she cried out. Dech put his hand over her mouth and whispered in her ear.

”Let’s wait until these fellows go away and we’ll think of a plan. I’m sure there are doctors in this city, and you need that ankle looked after. And, hey, it’s Rome. There must be hundreds of healers walking these streets.”

When she rolled her eyes, he kissed her, and they both knew they were as much at home as they ever wanted to be.

Cheryl Pennington

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