by C J M Naylor
“Abigail,” she said. “It’s a pleasure to see you, but I have to say I can’t seem to understand why you’re back. I told you all I knew the last time.”
“I know, Sister,” I responded, “but I wanted to see if I could press you a little more. I’ve recently found out a few things and I think it would be of the utmost importance to retrace all of my mother’s steps from that night.”
A saddened look dawned on Sister Margaret’s face. She quickly nodded and beckoned for us to come in. We followed her into the building, familiarity hitting me hard. The last time I was here my parents had been alive. Phillip had been alive. I brushed aside the thoughts and began to follow Sister Margaret as she led us into her office. But I stopped in the hallway, my attention drawn to the wall that was adorned with photographs of the sisters and the children from the orphanage. It looked like they had one for every year. I stepped forward and looked directly at a photograph that was taken not too many years ago. A nun in it looked familiar. Before I could question it further, Sister Margaret interrupted me.
“We take one every year out in the country,” she said. “We take the children out there to get away from the city for a bit. As you can see, many of them are never adopted out. For some, this is where they grow up. It’s quite sad. Please, follow me.”
I didn’t look back at the picture as Sister Margaret led us into her office, but my mind was still racing at what I had seen. I took a seat in front of her desk, Thomas and Mathias behind me.
“Again,” Sister Margaret said as she sat down, “I’m not sure what more there is I can help you with, but I will try my best.”
I didn’t hesitate to start explaining. “I’ve recently come to learn I might have a twin sister.” Sister Margaret’s face immediately transformed into one of shock and disbelief, but she allowed me to continue my story. I altered things a bit so as to leave out any evidence of being a Timekeeper, but I explained that we believed my mother had been keeping secrets and that she had given birth to twins that night.
“I guess I was wondering if you could give an account of exactly what happened that night,” I finally said. “I want to know everything, or as much as you can possibly remember.”
“Abigail,” Sister Margaret said, “again, I’m afraid there isn’t anything more to say. Your mother came to us with you in her arms and left you with us. She demanded we find you a home and that was it.”
If my mother were here, Annette Jordan that is, she would have a fit at what I was about to say. But it needed to be said and I looked Sister Margaret straight into her eyes as I said it.
“You’re lying.”
Sister Margaret looked like I had slapped her. “Excuse me?”
I felt a hand on my shoulder and Thomas spoke. “Abigail, what are you doing?”
I looked at Mathias and Thomas, and then answered. “I’m not doing anything. She’s lying.”
Immediately I stood up and walked back into the main hallway, reaching up and pulling down one of the photographs nailed to the wall.
“Miss Jordan,” Sister Margaret began, “I’m very sorry about your predicament, but that does not give you the right to come into this orphanage and have your way with the place.”
Picture in hand, I marched back into the office and showed it to Mathias, my finger on the nun that had caught my attention earlier.
“Is this my mother?” I asked him.
Mathias studied the picture carefully, and then a look of bewilderment came onto his face as he nodded. I then turned and planted the picture down in front of Sister Margaret and pointed out the nun in question.
“There are only a few scenarios here, Sister,” I said. “The first is that you are lying, the second is that my mother was a nun here and you were completely oblivious to that fact which I find highly unlikely, and the third is that there is another woman walking around with my mother’s face. Which scenario is it and is this nun still here?”
Sister Margaret looked visibly upset. I had caught her in the act and I suddenly felt quite guilty about it. Whatever her reason for lying to me in the past, her expression was now telling me that it might have been necessary. And I hated that I was forcing her to tell me what her reason was, but I truly needed to know. She sighed and then looked at me.
“I made a confidence a very long time ago with your mother,” Sister Margaret finally said. “It was a confidence I swore I would never break. And I knew if I’d have to lie to keep it, I would.”
I sat down again and looked directly at Sister Margaret, and then I reached forward and grabbed her hand. She didn’t pull away from me, and she didn’t seem surprised by the gesture either.
“I have no idea what you know,” I told her, “but I think my mother made you swear not to break this confidence to keep me safe. I believe she was trying to protect me from the world she knew, and unfortunately that didn’t happen. She never wanted me to meet my biological father, Mathias.”
I gestured toward Mathias and then continued. “However, I have. So, truly, from the bottom of my heart, I do not think this confidence matters anymore. I think it is imperative you tell me what you know, because in the end, that is what is probably going to protect me more now.”
By this point, tears had begun to form in Sister Margaret’s eyes. She pulled out a handkerchief and began to dab at the moisture. Finally, she put the handkerchief down and spoke.
“The woman in the picture is not your mother,” she said. “The woman is your mother’s sister, Eleanor Callaghan. From what I understand, your mother and Eleanor were identical twins and their brother was their fraternal twin, making them triplets. Eleanor was a devout Catholic nun and she came from a troubled home life. She had a strained relationship with her sister, your mother. She did, however, speak fondly of her brother. She mentioned him numerous times. If I remember correctly, I believe he was called Elijah.”
Elijah. It was as if a door that had always been locked in my head had suddenly been unlocked. Elijah, the man I met at my initiation—the man who had answered so many of my questions, but left me with even more—was my mother’s brother. My uncle. I wanted to find a quiet place to ponder this revelation, but Sister Margaret was still speaking, and I needed to listen.
“Eleanor disagreed with what she always referred to as the family practice. She never mentioned what it was that the Callaghan family did, or were expected to continue on in as they grew older, but for whatever reason, she vehemently disagreed with it. She said they always talked about power. She believed there was too much power and too much evil, which is why she found solace in her Catholic faith. I first met Eleanor in church, and the two of us went through the process of discernment together. We would often spend time praying together, determining whether or not becoming a nun was what God was calling us to do. Finally, we made the decision to join a convent together, which eventually led us to running this orphanage together.”
Sister Margaret took a momentary break in her story and reached forward to pour herself a glass of water from a pitcher on her desk. After taking a few sips, she continued.
“Eleanor informed me that Elisabeth had been married. Apparently, she had not been invited and had respected this decision. Eventually, Elisabeth became pregnant. Throughout her pregnancy, Elisabeth would spend quite a bit of time here with her sister. I have no idea why she did this, I just know she was here. One night, about a week before your birth, Eleanor informed me Elisabeth needed to give up her baby and asked if I could find a suitable family immediately. I questioned as to whether this was truly what Elisabeth wanted, as it couldn’t be undone once the process was complete. Eleanor begged me and I finally agreed.
“The night you were born, the woman that dropped you off was dressed as a nun, wearing Eleanore’s clothes, but it wasn’t Eleanor. It was Elisabeth. I know it deep in my marrow, and it continues to haunt me to this day that I didn’t reach out and ask what was going on. I simply pretended as if she had fooled me, and maybe she knew she wasn’t fooling me
. I honestly cannot say. Maybe the disguise was for someone else, but regardless of that, when you work closely with a woman for so many years, you can tell them apart from their twin, even when they are identical. I had seen them together enough times to know which was which. The woman dressed as a nun was your mother, not Eleanor. And it was Eleanor who was found hanging from that bridge.”
“How could you know that?” I gasped.
“This was not in the papers, but I work with closely with Scotland Yard when it comes to the children under my care. I asked about the woman they had found, and the inspector told me her autopsy showed no signs of having given birth, or having even been pregnant for that matter. The woman that died that day was Eleanor. For all I know, your mother is still alive.”
The room was so silent in that moment all we could hear were the creaks of the old building as it moaned from the wind. I was looking at Sister Margaret, but I wasn’t really looking at her. I was thinking about my biological mother. She was alive, or at least she hadn’t died that night. I also thought of my aunt. This woman I had never met had sacrificed her life, presumably, to protect her sister and her sister’s child. And there was also Elijah, who I knew now to be my uncle. But there was still the matter of my twin sister, and Sister Margaret hadn’t touched on that.
“What about my twin?” I finally asked. “Do you know if my mother had twins?”
“That I cannot say. I honestly do not know, and if your mother did have twins, I have no idea why you would have been the only one who was dropped off that night. The only thing I can say is I fulfilled my end of the agreement by finding you a home immediately. What I told you before about your mother saying you needed to be named Abigail, well I told you the truth about that. Your mother also indicated I not speak of your adoption to anyone. Honestly, I almost didn’t say anything to you when you came the last time, but I knew it was you. I could tell. You look so much like your mother, and your aunt, for that matter. Anyway, Dean and Annette Jordan were generous donors to our orphanage for years and they were first on the list to be contacted about a new baby, and that’s where your story began. As for your mother and Eleanor, I never saw either of them again.”
The room was silent as we all took in the story Sister Margaret had just relayed. Questions were being processed in my head and the only thing I could think to ask about was the confidence Sister Margaret had vowed to keep.
“You said you swore you wouldn’t tell anyone this,” I said. “How did that come about?”
“Your mother, even though she was dressed as Eleanor, made me swear to the story that it was your mother who dropped you off here, insisted you be placed with a family, and that was the end of it. And obviously, she left the letter to give to your adoptive parents. And even that particular story she wanted kept between your adoptive parents and myself. If anyone came knocking, asking about you or throwing around your mother or aunt’s name, I was to act as if I didn’t know about any of it. She also insisted I never speak to anyone about my relationship with Eleanor. At that point, not knowing what was to come, I had pretty much come to the conclusion I would probably never see Eleanor again.”
I finally stood up, as I felt Sister Margaret had told us everything she knew.
“Thank you so much,” I said to her.
She looked at me and smiled before standing herself. She led us to the door, opened it, and we stepped out onto the street. I nodded at Sister Margaret and smiled. She returned the smile and then closed the door.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
By the time we had returned to the London Headquarters, it was almost ten in the evening. I smiled knowing it would only be two in the afternoon when we returned to San Francisco. Thomas and I took a seat on Mathias’ couch, with Mathias once again taking a seat behind his desk and gazing at us, contemplating, as he had done all those months ago when I first started to know him.
“Do you think she’s alive?” I asked, breaking the silence. “She obviously didn’t die on the bridge.”
Mathias put his head in his hands and took a deep breath before looking back up at me. “I have no idea Abigail. I want to believe she is. I want to believe she’s been out there all this time, trying to protect us. But I also don’t want to be put the through the experience of losing her again. If she were alive, I cannot understand why she wouldn’t contact me. Why wouldn’t she ask for my help in all of this?”
“Because she’s protecting us,” I responded. “It’s what she’s been doing all this time.”
I could understand him not wanting to go through this again though. If there were any way Phillip were suddenly alive, or my parents, I wouldn’t want to get my hopes up. But I also felt in this situation we needed to find out more information about my mother and the family from which she came.
“We need to find Elijah,” I finally said. “The only time I’ve seen him was when he showed up at my initiation ceremony. He might be the key to everything. The only thing is, he never gave me any way for me to contact him. Did my mother leave anything behind? Anything at all? Maybe something that contained information about her family?”
Mathias shook his head at me. “When it was only me down here, after she died, I went through everything. This was while I was still at the old Headquarters. Your mother never had anything here with the exception of the clothes she had left behind. As I’m sure you’ve gathered, she was a very secretive woman.”
“Wait,” I said, realization hitting me. “I do have something of my mother’s. At least, I’m fairly certain it’s hers. Bessie left it for me when we she was luring me into the old headquarters. It was a pocket watch and I had to use it in order to get into the place. I forgot about it after everything that happened, but I still have it. It’s with my things in San Francisco. Thinking about it now, though, it might actually belong to Eleanor if she is the one who ran into Bessie that night.”
“I could look at it when we get back,” Thomas added. “Perhaps there is some way we could use it to communicate with Elijah?”
I nodded at the idea as the room behind the fireplace suddenly flashed, followed by a whooshing sound. I heard footsteps and then Councilor Headrick walked out, her face stern.
“Timekeeper Jane,” she said, skipping over any formal introductions, “you did not alert the Council of this travel assignment, which as I know you are aware, is strictly forbidden.”
Thomas immediately stood up, a look of shame appearing on his face. “My apologies, Councilor. I suppose I let emotion cloud my judgment. Abigail needed to see her father, but please don’t hold that against her. The blame is entirely mine. I told her of the rules, but then chose to break them anyway.”
Headrick looked like she was having none of it. “Be that as it may, Jane, that does not give you the right to overstep your role in our society and not go through the proper channels for requesting travel. This isn’t like you at all and, unfortunately, it is also a markable offense.”
Thomas nodded solemnly. “I understand, Councilor.”
Mathias stepped forward, a look of pity on his face. “Angela, Thomas is young. I think we were all allowed a chance to make mistakes when we were starting out. I seem to recall a similar incident when you were heading up the Paris Headquarters.”
Councilor Headrick looked infuriated. “How dare you, Benedict? We are not friends, nor would I say we are even acquaintances. I am your superior and you will treat me as such. And it’s Councilor Headrick to you, regardless of how well we knew each other at one point.” Headrick turned back to gaze on Thomas and I. “The two of you are to return to San Fransisco at once.”
“Councilor,” I began, “if you could just allow us a few more minutes with my father. I promise we will return within the hour.” I felt that it was a reasonable request, but Headrick looked as if I had just asked to take over her position.
“Miss Jordan, you are not in a position to make any sort of request. You were sent to San Francisco for a reason. To train. Whether or not you choose to do so is y
our choice, but you have no place here now.” She extended her arm, pointing to the fireplace and the Time Line beyond. “Go.”
I almost argued with her. This was my father, who I had not seen in almost a year. How could she dictate whether or not I could see him? But I didn’t get the chance. Thomas placed his hand gently on my shoulder, and I knew what he was telling me to do. We needed to go, and we needed to go right now. I finally sighed and moved ahead to the Time Line. Thomas took no time at all in setting our location and we left the London Headquarters immediately, leaving Mathias to face the wrath of Headrick.
As soon as we returned to San Francisco, I told Thomas I needed to go find the pocket watch Bessie had given me. I promised him I would meet him wherever he’d like and he told me about a place called the Balboa Cafe on Fillmore Street. We agreed on meeting there. He seemed content with that and as I rode on a cable car back to my apartment, I continued to rewind and play again the memories in my head of what Sister Margaret had told us. The only thing that kept jumping to the front of my mind was the fact that my mother had not died on the bridge that night. I didn’t know what to think or feel, and was secretly and perhaps guiltily glad my aunt had died and not my mother, but I brushed it off as the cable car came to a halt and I jumped off, walking the rest of the way to the Chambord Building.
When I unlocked the door and entered the apartment, I found it was empty. Bridget must still be at class and I assumed Ian was probably doing something at the Headquarters. I went straight to my room, opened the closet door, and pulled a shoebox from the highest shelf. I had placed anything valuable or meaningful from London in this box, and the first thing I saw when I opened it, was Phillip’s letter. Everything he had said in the letter came flying back to me at once. Life goes on…you will find someone…keep going.
Had I been living my life to his requests? I had chosen to keep going, but had I tried to continue on with my life? Recently I had, but in our initial months in San Francisco I had allowed myself to be consumed by my thoughts. I had allowed these voices, or at least my telepathic sister, to torment me. Why did she want to torment me? Why did she want to cause me distress? What could have possibly happened to her that she would want me to feel as if I had killed those I had loved?