Wish

One

ELLA

"You want me to go where?" I ask, nearly dropping the broom I'd just pulled from the closet.

"The bell tower, dearie," Ms. Fairchild, the chapel's groundskeeper, repeats. She doesn't bother to look back at me, leaving me to stare at the tightly wound grey bun on the back of her head. Her gnarled hands leisurely move as she organizes the stacks of old hymnals onto the bookshelf in the corner of the pastor's office.

The bell tower. I'd worked at the Duke University Chapel for going on two years now, and I'd somehow avoided taking the hundreds of creaky, winding stairs to the uppermost level of the church. There are several reasons I don't want to venture up there—the sheer number of stairs, all the dust that would surely stir up my seasonal allergies, the pitch darkness except for the places where the moon shines in, but most of all...the bats. No creature on this planet gives me the creeps more than those little flying monsters.

"But...why?" I ask in a small voice.

She looks at me over her shoulder, her gaze sharp over the rim of her bifocals. "I need you to go up there and get the rest of the hymnals. The elders have asked that we get them all out of storage and display them properly; most of them are antiques. There are only about fifteen; you'll be able to carry them all," she says, and I can tell by the tone of her voice that she's spoken her final word on the subject; I will be making my first trip to the bell tower, and I'll be making it right now.

I sigh and grip my broom tightly, propping it over my shoulder like a weapon. I wish more than anything I could just do my usual chores in the sanctuary. It feels safer under its high arched ceilings, rows of mahogany pews, and stained-glass windows. Taking a deep breath, I walk to the old wooden door, ease it open, and slip into the darkness.

"Ugh," I mutter, pulling my phone out of my pocket and shining the light in my path. It helps just enough so I don't trip over my own feet as I ascend the staircase.

Rustling comes from above my head and I jerk my chin up, thrusting the broom into the air, peering through the darkness but seeing nothing.

My phone suddenly dings, startling me so much that I nearly drop it as I look down at the screen. I roll my eyes and delete the text. "Get a clue, dude," I mumble to myself as I keep climbing.

The closer I get to the top of the tower, the warmer it gets, and sweat starts to bead at my hairline. August in North Carolina is sweltering, and it feels like it's at least 85 degrees in this non-ventilated bell tower. Finally, I scale the top step and skim the wall for a light switch. It flips with a snap, and the electricity running through the exposed wire makes an audible hum as it powers the single lightbulb. I scan the area until my gaze lands on the small alcove in the corner where Ms. Fairchild said I'd find the books.

I bend over at the waist to fit into the small space and pull the hymnals from the shelf at the back of the alcove. I blindly grope the floor for the fifteenth hymnal, and my fingers brush against a cold slim chain. My eyebrow drops and I close my fist around it, drawing it out. I climb out of the alcove, knocking my head on the doorway as I stand.

"Ouch!" I exclaim, pressing my palm to the top of my head, but the moonlight catches the intricate pendant in my hand, distracting me from my pain.

The disk practically covers the entirety of my palm. Silver and gold weave in and out of each other creating a pattern that is unlike anything I've ever seen. Through the delicate spaces a dark blue gem glints in the background. I bob my hand up and down measuring the weight of the piece—it's heavy and definitely not a piece of costume jewelry.

"How did you get up here?" I ask the object, brushing my fingertips over the design. A tiny hinge on the side catches my attention, and I hold the pendant up to the dim light; it's a locket. 

I hesitate with my thumb on the clasp; it feels like an invasion of privacy to open it. This belonged to someone, and I'm taking it upon myself to peek at what they have hidden inside. But the locket is too beautiful and the secrets it protects too tempting. I hold my breath and pry the two sides apart. I expect to find two pictures inside or a lock of hair, but what I'm met with is a brilliant light.

The locket falls from my hands, and I hurry backward, tripping over a box. I land on my butt, my eyes wide and mouth agape as the blinding beam fills the dark bell tower. The light falters like something is moving through it and a thud resounds in the musty space. And just like that, everything returns to normal. The light is gone and the locket lays on the ground...closed.

My gaze darts back to where the beam was—the place where a figure lies on his back. He stares up at the rafters with unblinking eyes, his strong jaw flexing and the nostrils of his Romanesque nose flaring. He wears a long brown suit jacket, matching slacks, and flat square bowtie, appearing as if he just stepped out of a Jane Austen book. Slowly, he turns his head in my direction. A chestnut curl falls over his amethyst colored eyes, and he smiles.