The Thornless Rose by Morgan O'Neill

she last saw Robert Dudley. “You’re not going to believe what just happened.”

Chapter Six
    Anne and Catherine sat at the back of the noisy tour bus, heading for home. The air around them filled with the animated chatter of tourists, along with the warm summer breeze blowing in from every window. All sounds of their conversation would be whisked away here. Anne felt it was safe enough to talk.
    “Grandma, I went back to the attic and found some old news clippings. I need to know what you suspect about Dr. Brandon.”
    Anne retraced the steps of her bizarre experiences. Still hedging, she left out her encounter with Dudley, as well as the one with Brandon. She tried to explain her growing obsession with linking everything, somehow, to Brandon’s disappearance.
    When Anne finished, she felt worn out, as if she had relived the past few days. She cast her gaze beyond the bus window, toward the rolling green countryside.
    “This is all so weird,” she muttered.
    There was a long pause, then Catherine sighed. “I was worried about you yesterday after we talked, darling, so much so I followed you about, but I lost track of you after the pub.” She glanced at the thornless rose, resting in her lap. “I’d so hoped the sensations would never be felt again by someone I loved. But somehow, I suspected you were being touched by them, too.” Her voice quavered. “Jonnie had experiences such as yours, with sensations every bit as strong. Strong enough for you to need more information, I believe. We’d best get on with a course of action now and perhaps you might be able to right a bit of the sorrow that’s followed me all these years, if we cannot hope to rectify it altogether.”
    “What do you mean by a course of action? For what?” Anne asked.
    The tour bus stopped at a light, and they waited for the blanket of noise to rise back up and cover them again.
    When the bus lurched forward, Catherine went on, “Jonnie was quite unprepared when he vanished, and it is something I have always regretted.” She stared at Anne, her expression sharp with worry. “I hope,” she said, hesitating, “I pray that I am only an old fool with crazy ideas.”
    Nervously, Anne pushed her windblown hair off her face. “You’re going to give me a heart attack, Grandma. Please tell me what you mean. I know you’ve studied this and think there’s more to it than Trudy’s ideas about kidnapping or murder.”
    Catherine nodded. “That was all anyone could imagine, of course, but there is very much more to it than that. I believe Jonnie saw the past. Or perhaps the past visited him, or pulled at him. I don’t know.”
    Anne’s skin went cold. “Which implies what, exactly?”
    Catherine looked directly into her eyes. “Time travel.”
    “What?” Anne had sensed the words were coming—actually braced herself for them—but hearing her grandmother say them left her stunned. “Grandma, you’re scaring me.”
    “Listen now, Anne. I believe it’s a time vortex or gap or whatever you may want to call it. Some of the greatest minds of the past century—Einstein, Tipler, Kerr, Thorne, Mallet—have theorized the potential for traveling back in time, although the ability to artificially construct the how has never been seen as a possibility.” Catherine sighed again. “At any rate, my belief is that it occurs spontaneously at times, though whether one travels by happenstance or somehow draws it upon himself, I simply can’t say.”
    “Do you know who Robert, Lord Dudley, was?” Anne blurted out.
    Catherine’s eyebrows lifted. “Why, yes. He was Elizabeth I’s lifelong friend and closest confidant. She named him Master of the Horse as soon as she got her crown. Some said he was her lover. He certainly pursued her.”
    Sounds about right . Anne pointed to the rose. “I haven’t told you everything. Robert Dudley gave me that rose in the garden when I was taking pictures. And you should have seen the place. It looked so