Clockwork

“Ah! Our brave dreamweavers have returned.”

Grace was at a loss for words and, by the looks of it, so was Jeremy. “Sir… We…” she said, stumbling.

But Dr. Bookman simply smiled warmly. “Oh! Do not misunderstand! I am not upset. Quite on the contrary. I see you have unlocked the secrets long stored within these stone walls, which is no simple task. It is something I have poured hours into studying, but you Grace Harper seemed to have mastered it in less than a day”

Grace didn’t know how to respond.

The old man waved his hand. “Please allow me to answer your questions, of which I am sure you have plenty.” There was a soft twinkle in his eye. “Will you walk with me?”

They started down the many stairs and the events of the last few hours were beginning to catch up to their bodies. Grace’s legs were aching and she knew the lack of sleep would crash over her like a heavy downpour soon. She barely registered the irony of walking beside their host who had caught them trespassing on his grounds. His nonchalant reaction somehow made sense, given all they had just experienced. Like the final piece of a complicated puzzle, she thought. Indistinct on its own, yet it transforms the otherwise hazy image into a complete whole.

“I suppose you are both wondering how this clock tower came to be here,” Dr. Bookman said. “In the middle of rural Oregon?”

“It had crossed our minds,” Jeremy replied. “Though the magical doors seemed to be a tad more pressing in the grand scheme of things.”

The old man laughed. “Ah yes. Unfortunately, the true origin of those oak entrances is beyond even me. However, I will tell you what I know.” The sun had not fully risen yet and the air was crisp as they stepped outside the stone structure. As they strolled back to the house, Dr. Bookman recounted the clock tower's story

"Many years ago, in the early 19th century, this land was home to a talented clockmaker named Isaac Bellford. He was deeply in love with an artist, Elara, who shared his fascination with nature and time. They planned to build a clock tower together, a symbol of their combined passions. Tragically, Elara passed away before they could realize this dream.

In his grief, Isaac dedicated himself to building the clock tower in her memory, right here in their favorite spot, surrounded by the beauty of nature. He used special materials and designs that held significance for both of them, unknowingly imbuing the structure with magical properties.

This clock tower, with its mysterious past, stood here long before I acquired the property. It's more than just an architectural feat; it's a poignant reminder of love, loss, and the mystical connection between time, nature, and the human heart."

Dr. Bookman grew quiet, letting this sink in. Grace was struck by this bittersweet ending, filled both with wonder – of the clock tower’s affinity for repairing what had been broken or lost – and empathy for this poor man.

“What became of the architect,” she asked. “Mr. Isaac?”

“After the clock tower's completion, he retreated from the world, spending his days and nights within its walls. Then, one day, he simply vanished. Some say he found a way to join Elara, perhaps through one of the tower's magical doors.”

“If that were true,” said Jeremy. “I wonder which world he may have chosen to spend the rest of his days.”

“An intriguing thought, certainly.” Dr. Bookman agreed. “Though, as I’m sure you have realized, the clock tower acts much like an extension of one’s consciousness. Each door serves a distinct purpose for those who walk across their thresholds. And all walk away with an indelible trace of influence.”

“Influence?” Grace asked, wondering what he could’ve meant by this.

“Why, magic of course! A sense of wonder and curiosity, reborn in the heart of its visitor.”

Suddenly, a new thought occurred to Grace. “And what doors did it reveal to you, sir?”

The old man eyed her, pointedly. “That is a rather sagacious insight, Grace Harper. I fear for all our secrets were you and Madam Hedera to join forces.”

Grace laughed. “We have gotten along pretty well.”

“I am afraid the answer to your question would take more time than we have at our disposal. Instead, allow me to offer a second explanation.” Jeremy raised his eyebrows at this. “What I have done since.”

Dr. Bookman went on to explain that it had been decades since he had last seen the doors in the clock tower open. While he did travel to 3 unique worlds, he had never found a way to open them. “It led me to believe,” he shared, “that the laws of these supernatural doors forbid a second entry.”

Jeremy interrupted. “But if the true purpose of the clock tower is to bring resolution, dare I say peace, then what more could it offer you?”

Dr. Bookman paused, gazing thoughtfully at the sky as if deciphering the secrets of the universe hidden in the clouds. "It is true," he began slowly, his voice tinged with a mix of wonder and melancholy, "the clock tower transformed me in a way I shall never forget. But I felt a sense of obligation to the rest of the world. Why should only a select few get to experience this enlightenment?" He smiled enigmatically, leaving an air of mystery lingering around his words, suggesting that the clock tower held deeper, more personal revelations than mere physical exploration.

After a few moments, he continued. “That is why, I have been searching for some way, rather someone to reopen these doors.”

Finally, it dawned on Grace. There was something unique about her that resonated with the essence of the clock tower itself. "So, it wasn't just chance or coincidence," Grace said slowly, her mind piecing together the puzzle. "That is why you invited me here.”

Dr. Bookman turned to her, his expression earnest and sincere. "No, Grace, that was not my sole intention. When I invited you here, it was primarily because I believed in your ability to partner with our organization, to contribute meaningfully to our environmental mission. Your artistic vision and your connection to nature made you an ideal collaborator for what we aim to achieve here."

He paused for a moment, ensuring his words were clear and impactful. "Had my only desire been to test the doors of the clock tower, I would have invited you separately, solely for that purpose. But that wasn't the case. Your presence here, your exploration of the clock tower, was an unexpected, serendipitous event that only added depth to your involvement in our project."

Grace nodded appreciatively. “It's about who we are, isn't it? Our nature, our curiosity, and perhaps our restless spirits."

Dr. Bookman nodded, a look of understanding and kinship in his eyes. "Precisely, Grace. Like me, you were drawn to the clock tower not just by curiosity, but by a deeper, unsteady longing within your soul. It seeks not just answers, but transformation."

Grace felt a profound connection at that moment, realizing her journey mirrored Dr. Bookman's in many ways. They were both seekers, wanderers in the realm of possibilities, looking for a place to anchor their restless spirits.

Dr. Bookman looked at both Grace and Jeremy, his gaze encompassing the vast expanse of the estate. "And that, I think, is the true purpose of these Magic Maples, to help lost souls become planted souls." His words resonated deeply.

Back in their room, Grace gathered her drawing materials, her hands moving with purpose as she began to sketch. The clock tower's story still echoed in her thoughts, inspiring her to capture its essence in her art.

In the center of the canvas, Grace drew a large clock, its face not marked with numbers but with delicately arranged flowers. Each flower represented a different hour, and together, they formed a vibrant mosaic of global diversity. The first flower, representing 1 o'clock, was a cherry blossom, symbolizing the beauty and transience of life in Japanese culture. Moving clockwise, the flowers transitioned from the bright sunflowers of the American plains at 2 o'clock to the resilient Edelweiss of the Alps at 3 o'clock, and onward around the globe.

With each stroke, Grace explained her vision to Jeremy. "Each collection of flowers stands for a different part of the world or community," she said, her voice filled with passion. "Like the trees in the Magic Maple, they show how diversity and beauty can thrive together. It's a reminder that overcoming comes from unity and cooperation."

As she reached the final flower, a vibrant Protea representing South Africa at 12 o'clock, the clock's hands, entwined with ivy, met in the middle. This symbolized the interconnectedness of all cultures and communities, a central theme in their proposal. The clock was more than a collection of flowers; it was a testament to the resilience and harmony of the human spirit.

Jeremy watched in admiration. Her art was not just a visual treat; it carried a profound message of unity, echoing the lessons they'd learned from the clock tower and the magical realms. Together, they felt a renewed sense of purpose, ready to present their proposal, a blend of art, nature, and the unifying power of community.

The final proposal was set in a previously unexplored part of the Bookman Estate, an enchanting garden bordered by a towering water wall. The soothing sound of cascading water created a serene backdrop as the candidates gathered, each ready to share their vision. Grace's heart raced with anticipation, her eyes taking in the lush greenery and the mesmerizing flow of water that seemed to capture the very essence of tranquility.

The first candidate, a sculptor, presented a series of intricate statues, each embodying an element of nature. His work spoke of the enduring strength of the earth, his hands weaving through the air as he described how his sculptures would interact with the natural light throughout the day. Next, a photographer shared a portfolio of stunning landscapes, capturing the estate's beauty through the seasons, her voice a soft melody, echoing her deep connection with the environment.

Then, it was Grace's turn. She unveiled her artwork, the clock of flowers, each bloom a symbol of global diversity and unity. "This piece," Grace began, her voice steady yet filled with emotion, "represents the harmony of nature and humanity. Just like the clock tower's magical realms, it shows that together,” her eyes darting toward Jeremy, “we can overcome any challenge." She explained how each flower connected to a part of the world, intertwined in a dance of resilience and beauty.

As the final pitch concluded, Dr. Bookman stood, his eyes reflecting a deep contemplation. The candidates waited with bated breath. "Each of your proposals has captured the spirit of this estate in its own way," his voice resonating with warmth. "Therefore, I've decided that each of these magnificent works will find a home in my retirement gallery." A wave of surprised murmurs rippled through the group, followed by smiles of disbelief and gratitude.

Ronny, who was seated to Grace’s left, looked appalled. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” Grace heard her mumble.

As they all admired the water wall, now glowing in the soft evening light, a sense of accomplishment and unity filled the air. They had come as competitors asked to encapsulate the work of a generous and impactful organization, led by an inspiring leader. But they were leaving as contributors to a collective masterpiece, each adding a distinct thread to the rich tapestry of the Bookman Estate.