This is the first story in my latest book of 26 short stories. Beyond the Garden Gate is available on Amazon as a paperback, ebook, and audiobook.
A Chance Encounter
Clanging church bells and flashes of lightning created a cataclysm of light and sound, lighting the sky behind the church steeples across the street. Crashing thunder momentarily drowned out the clanging church bells. Adrenaline surged through my body. Had I been transported to another place- magical, ethereal, and terrifying? I felt the urge to run, but stood transfixed in wonder as the powerful elements crashed around me.
A sheet of water rushed down the cobblestones, filling the gutters, threatening to flow onto my feet.
I huddled beneath the clock shop’s pitifully inadequate striped canopy. Stinging rain drove against my body, dripping from my hair onto my jacket. The tinkle of cowbells echoed faintly between rolls of thunder as cows moved across the hillside where my pension looked down on the town.
A man carrying an umbrella appeared and stopped beneath the awning where I shivered. “May I offer the shelter of my umbrella?” His presence soothed my fears.
“Why, thank you, how kind.” We stood side by side beneath the canopy, watching the ribbons of lightning zigzag across the afternoon sky. “Why are the bells ringing?” I asked. Is there an emergency?”
“The bells ring to frighten the clouds toward another village.”
I struggled to suppress a smile, doubting the validity of his words but touched by his quaint belief in the magical power of bells.
I touched his hand. “Well, it’s not working. It’s been raining for half an hour.”
“Oh, it’s working,” he smiled. “We ring our bells and the clouds drift to the next village. But they also ring their bells and the clouds are confused, so they drift back here again. Soon they will find a quiet place and will not return.”
We stood watching the rain and laughed, exchanging small bits of idle conversation. No longer chilled, we stood so close together; I could smell the scent of him. All too soon, a whistle shrieked, and he turned toward the train station. “The train is coming. I must go. Perhaps you should seek better shelter?”
“I will soon. I think the rain is letting up.”
He took my hand and raised it to his lips. “It’s been a pleasure. I must go. I wish we had more time to…” His lips gently brushed my fingertips. “Good-bye.”
In that moment, he looked into my eyes, and I felt as though we were one soul. Light and music surrounded us. As though I could see into the future, I saw us sharing a lifetime, days and nights of love and hope. I touched a baby’s fingers curling over mine. I heard the drums of 100 marching bands, saw the night sky explode in a brilliant halo of fireworks, felt the mist of 50 years of springtime rains, experienced the wonder of 10,000 morning dawns and golden sunsets…
Yet I knew it would never happen. He released my hand, waved a final farewell and walked toward the train.
The blare of trumpets tinkled, grew silent, and then became a sparrow singing in a nearby tree. The rain ceased, the sky brightened, and the sun slid from behind a cloud. I touched the place where he had stood and felt his presence melting through my fingertips. The air grew chilled, and I realized¾ I didn’t even know his name. I ran toward the train, calling as he swung onto the train.
“Wait! What is your name?” I reached my hand toward him, but he was gone.
Years have passed, but even now, when I hear church bells ringing, I must stop … and listen. As I listen, I am reminded of a stormy day in a faraway land when I shared an umbrella with a stranger.
I often wonder if it was real. In those few moments we shared, did we defy time and space and share a lifetime of love? Or was it only a dream that lasted for a second?
And then I close my eyes, and I remember the church bells, echoing from one mountaintop to another as the storm clouds scramble from village to village in search of a silent, peaceful place. Finally, in their frantic search, they drift onto a quiet hillside where the only sound is the tinkling of the cow’s bells, as they amble through the meadows and disappear into the mist.
