by C J M Naylor
"I guess I don't really see the point of it," I said.
"It isn't meant to be fun or exciting. This is a job, a duty. We have the power to view these famous events of history over again as a tool. A tool to use to help us prepare for the future."
"But if we can't change it, what are we preparing for? What is the use of this and our premonitions?"
Mathias shook his head. Clearly, I was missing something.
"Abigail, what did I say about Timekeepers? We record and measure time. We keep track of it. That is it. Our premonitions come to us so that we can see the big events that will occur. While we cannot change it, or interrupt it, we know we need to be there to see it, to record it. All of the events in that Time Line were put there by previous Timekeepers. It is like a movie. They recorded it. We place those events on that Time Line. To make it simple, we keep track of time, we record it, using the objects given to us as well as our Time Line."
"Well then, who keeps track of that Time Line of earth you spoke about?" I asked.
"Like I said, that story is a myth."
"Mathias."
I turned and saw Ian standing in the entryway of the chamber. He had a small piece of paper in his hand.
"What is it, Ian?" Mathias asked.
"The council has sent us a letter regarding Abigail starting her training," he responded. "They will be arriving in an hour to discuss preparations."
"Very well," Mathias answered, "Abigail, we will resume training tomorrow."
He walked away rather abruptly, taking the letter and sweeping past Ian.
Ian walked into the room and stood next to me, standing over the Time Line.
"How was it?" Ian asked. "I know Mathias can be a little too focused on learning, sometimes."
"It isn't your fault. I guess I'm just a little hurt that he doesn't seem to talk about my mother that much. I really wanted to know more about her."
"I understand. But as you learn more from Mathias, I feel like he will open up to you more. What I can help you with is this. Do you have any questions about the Time Line?"
"I'm the kind of person that wants to know why we do the things we do," I said, "so why is this Timekeeping important? Why are we given these powers?"
"Mathias has already somewhat explained how many Timekeepers are influential in government as well as in society. By having such influence, our people have the ability to deliver history correctly, as it happened. Humans have had the ability to record history by writing it down, but as Timekeepers, we have the ability to have recorded history as it happened and we have the ability go back in time and revisit that history. I'll have to admit that society is getting more creative with how they can record history. We now have the ability to take a picture and even record video of things, but Timekeepers will always have the Time Line. We will always have history at our fingertips in case anything gets lost."
"Literally then," I responded, "you record time, measure it, and make sure it stays kept. That is utterly fascinating. But is this power a good power? Can it be evil in a way? I've always been taught that things like powers could be wrong."
Ian inclined his head as he listened to me, clearly pondering my question.
"That is a good question. I think that what we do is good. We help society move forward. We make sure we don't lose the history of our people. But there is evil just as there is good. I'll save it for Mathias to explain to you, but there is a way that the power we have can be abused and used for wrong."
Mathias was back, standing in the entryway.
"Abigail, I understand you are interested," Mathias said, "but that is all for the day."
Ian smiled and said he would show me out. As I walked past Mathias, I felt a coldness trickle down through my body. I couldn't explain why I felt it. And as I walked away, I could feel his eyes watching me as we went. Ian led me up in the lift and out of the basement, and as always told me he would wait for me the very next day.
CHAPTER SEVEN
The London Library was freezing. It was always freezing. I was wearing a coat, but I hugged myself anyway, rubbing my hands against my arms to keep warm. I would be facing the wrath of Phillip tonight. I had not met up with him since the day I met my father and he wouldn't be happy. I knocked on the door of his office. There was silence for a moment, but then I heard footsteps behind the door and it opened.
Phillip stood in the doorway. His hair was messy as usual and he was wearing his glasses today. He had a more disheveled than usual look—as if he had woken up on the wrong side of the bed. I was sure he had.
"Well look who it is," he said. His tone was condescending and he smirked at me. He stepped aside, signaling I should come in.
I walked inside and turned to look at him as he walked back around to his desk, leaving the door open. I smiled shyly.
"I'm sorry," I said. I kissed him and he kissed me back. I could tell he was still frustrated though. I took his hand and our fingers intertwined with each other. We walked over to the couch and sat down. Phillip was silent. He extended his arm and touched my hair. I watched as a lock of my hair slid through his fingers. He would always play with it whenever he could. He touched the side of my face and we stared at each other. His baby blue eyes—and my dark brown eyes—locked on one another. He leaned in and kissed my lips. I felt a feeling of warmth that was genuine and true. In that moment, I felt protected by Phillip. I felt like nothing bad could happen to me while in the protection of him. But, then he pulled away.
"Bridget is here.”
I turned my head and sure enough Bridget was striding toward us.
"Don't say anything about the Timekeeping," I whispered to Phillip, "she only knows I met my father."
"What's going on, you two?" she asked, entering through Phillip's office door.
I didn't have time to respond. I stopped breathing.
A bridge.
Tower bridge.
I saw the bridge, I saw the figures. Two people, a rope.
A flash of a body could be seen going over the bridge. Were they being hanged? I couldn't tell. I thought I saw a woman, but who was the other person? Everything was too dark and blurry for me to figure it out or make sense of it.
"Abigail!"
My eyes popped open. Once again, Phillip's baby blue eyes were staring back at me. Bridget was kneeling over me. I realized that behind them was the ceiling. I was on the floor. My head was pounding.
Phillip gently placed his hand behind my head and lifted me up into his shoulders. I felt out of breath. I felt tired.
"You just slipped off the couch and hit the floor," he told me. "Did you see something?"
Phillip lifted me back onto the couch and then sat down next to me—cradling my hand in his own. I rubbed the back of my head with my free hand and thought about it for a moment. Bridget sat down next to us and I looked from her to Phillip in confusion. I was trying to make sense of what I had seen.
"I saw the Tower Bridge and I'm pretty sure a woman was there," I told him. "It looked like someone was being hung. Phillip, I think I saw my mother's death. Mathias said her body was found hanging from the Tower Bridge. It was deemed as a suicide."
"Wait," Bridget interrupted, "your mother committed suicide? You didn't tell me this yesterday."
A feeling of panic shot me through me. I forgot I had left this part out, along with my secret Timekeeping abilities.
"I'm sorry," I replied, "I forgot to tell you."
"You forgot to tell me? How peculiar, considering that when my father died I remembered to tell you."
"Bridget I'm sorry. A lot of things happened yesterday and were going through my mind."
"I feel like you're not telling me something else," Bridget pestered onward. She stared at me with a look of confusion and hurt and finally she stood up.
"I'll leave you two to your secrets. I'm sure there are many you need to discuss." She turned on her heel and pulled the door shut behind her. It slammed loudly and the noise echoed around the office.
Phillip looked back at me questioningly. "Why did you tell me everything and not her?"
"Because I'm marrying you. I don't think Bridget should know about these strange...powers...at least not now." Another thought occurred to me. "Do you think you would have the paper of the day they found her body?"
"Maybe," Phillip said, "we could check several. It just depends on whether they published the information or not. Do you know the day? It would have been in December 1925 right? Since you were turned in at the orphanage the day you were born."
I nodded and Phillip stood up. He took me to where they kept their older newspapers and we were in there for a while looking through them. It wasn't too difficult to find however. We looked up the date of my birthday, December 8, 1925 and sure enough, it was there. I realized then, something I had not thought about before. My mother had died on my birthday.
December 8, 1925—Mysterious Suicide on London's Tower Bridge
Investigators are puzzled today after a body was found hanging from the London Tower Bridge in what appears to be a suicide. The body was a young woman who appears to be in her mid-twenties with long blonde hair. The body is being identified as Jane Doe at this time until further information becomes available. Anyone with information is asked to come forward.
The article was not too helpful, but Phillip managed to find another paper for a few weeks later, which furthered the story.
December 20, 1925—Mysterious Tip to Investigators Identifies Jane Doe
Investigators have been unable to identify the body of the woman in what is deemed a suicide from a few weeks ago. Investigators received a tip from an anonymous public source identifying the body as that of Elisabeth Callaghan, but have been unable to confirm this. Unless further information is discovered about the case, investigators will not be pursuing further. The body will be buried at the City of London Cemetery at the end of this week under the name given.
I folded up the paper and gave it back to Phillip. He took it. My mother was buried at the City of London Cemetery. I knew her full name as well—Elisabeth Callaghan.
"Are you going to go and see the grave?" Phillip asked a look of puzzlement on his face.
I nodded. I had to. I owed her that much, but I still wouldn't be done. This wasn't a suicide. Mathias knew that and I knew that. I wanted to know who did this to my mother, who destroyed the family she loved so much to protect.
That night I returned home with a strange feeling in my stomach. I was afraid to visit my mother's grave. Phillip was going to take me tomorrow and we would do this together. I felt like he should meet the woman he would never know—the mother of his fiancée he would never know.
When I walked through the front door of my house, I saw Mrs. Baxter and my mother playing cards in the kitchen. I heard Mrs. Baxter shout "you cheat" real loud. She was a very competitive woman. I decided to go up and see my father.
I entered my parents' room quietly in case he was asleep, but he was wide-awake. He was propped up against some pillows and reading a book. He loved to read, but I wondered if it had the same feeling it did before his illness. I wondered if he understood what he was reading. I also wondered if it was terrible of me to think that way.
"Father."
He looked up from his book and smiled. He placed it down on the bedside table.
"Come over here," he said, still smiling.
I walked around to his side of the bed and sat down next to him. I remembered the nights when I used to run in this room afraid as a little girl. My parents would wake up immediately and comfort me.
My father put his arm around me and I fell into his shoulder. He had the same familiar smell I associated him with—a clean spring scent. His head was balding around the top with his gray hair around the middle. He still wore his spectacles, but his blue eyes had a glassy look to them that they didn't use to have.
"How are you, Lu?"
"I'm fine," I responded. "How are you? What are you reading?"
"I feel good today. I'm reading, uh, oh what is it?"
A feeling of despair arose inside of me. Maybe he had not been reading at all, but trying to read, or trying to remember.
A look of pain came onto his face. He usually looked like he was in pain when he couldn't remember something. I took his hand in mine and held it.
"It's okay. You don't have to tell me."
His face became sad and I hugged him. I missed our moments together. We used to go out all the time—to see a play at the theater or to see a film. He would take me out on the town. I had always been close to my father.
"I'll let you get some rest now," I told him. I kissed his cheek and then helped him to lie down. I turned off his bedside table lamp and walked across the room to leave, but he spoke up.
"Good night, my little Susie Lu."
There were no tears this time. Only silence.
"I win!"
"Yes, Mrs. Baxter," I heard my mother say, "you've won, again. Congratulations."
"Well this gambling has run me down low," Mrs. Baxter said, "I'd better be getting home now."
"We didn't even play with real money!"
"Church going people don't gamble, Annette!"
Mrs. Baxter was standing up from her chair as I entered the kitchen. She smiled at me and gave me a quick hug.
"I'll see you fine ladies in the morning," she announced.
"Good night, Mrs. Baxter," I said as she shut the front door.
I sat down at the kitchen table across from my mother, who was sipping a cup of tea. She smiled at me.
"Would you like some?"
I shook my head. "I'm fine."
I thought about it for a moment and then decided I wanted to tell my mother everything because she deserved to know.
"I've found my biological father."
My mother was in the middle of taking another sip of her tea as I blurted it out. A brief look of heartache flitted over her face. She slowly set down her cup and pushed back her chair. She looked at me for another brief second—it felt like forever—and then she stood up from her chair and walked out of the kitchen. I realized I had been holding my breath and quickly let myself breathe. I heard my mother's footsteps go up the stairs, down the landing, and into her room. I heard the door open and close, followed by the click of a lock. It was not the reaction I had been anticipating. It was not the reaction I had imagined would ever possibly occur. I had broken her heart. And that isn't something you can reverse.
The next day was colder than the day before. My mother was already gone the next morning and with the fresh memory of what I had done to her, I decided I didn't want to go see Mathias today, so instead I phoned Phillip and was waiting for him to pick me up. I wore a dark sweater and long dark skirt with a heavy overcoat protecting me from the cold. Phillip picked me up around noon. He stood in my doorway, shaking. He looked sweet waiting out in the cold for me. His hands were protected in the warm pockets of his brown overcoat. His long brown hair was once again shaggy and messy. He really needed a haircut.
The drive to the cemetery took about a half hour with the traffic. When we arrived, Phillip got out of the car and walked around to the passenger side to let me out. We held hands as we walked up to the gates of the cemetery. We quickly found directions to the gravesite after stopping to ask someone that worked there. My heart was pounding as we approached the location that the directions had led us to. I looked around at all the gravestones as well as the mausoleums around the cemetery. Finally, Phillip spoke up.
"This is it.”
He gestured toward a grave a few feet in front of me and I walked ahead of him to observe it. I knelt down next to the grave and read the engraving.
Elisabeth Callaghan
Birth: Unknown / Death: December 8, 1925
I reached forward and touched the stone and let my fingers touch the letters of the engraving. A branch snapped nearby and my head turned.
Birds flew up from the trees. In that single moment, I felt like someo
ne was watching us.
I stood up and walked back over to Phillip and took his hand.
"Did you hear that?" I asked.
"Yeah."
We stood there for a moment, watching the trees and looking around the cemetery. I didn't see anyone, but I knew someone had been there. Something made a branch snap. Something made the birds take off. I looked back at the gravestone again.
"For some reason. I thought this would make me feel better. About everything. But nothing's changed."
I felt Phillip's hand touch the small of my back as he spoke.
"This is all still new to you," he said softly. "You need to give it time."
"I'm ready to go.”
I pulled away from Phillip and began walking through the cemetery back toward the car. He followed closely behind, as if he meant to say something more, but I was too busy in thought to talk to him. I wasn't thinking about the branch snapping. I'm sure it was someone just walking through. I was thinking about my mother. I was now more determined than ever after seeing the gravestone of the woman who was my mother. There was no date of birth because they didn't know it. They didn't know she was a loving wife and mother. They wouldn't have even known her name if it hadn't been for the tip.
I saw the car up ahead, and something else as well. There was a piece of paper taped to the windshield. I assumed it was a ticket or something, but Phillip hadn't parked against regulations. I picked up the paper as soon as I got to the car and unfolded it. It was a note, quickly scribbled. My heart dropped as I read it.
I saw you. I've been waiting for so long. Please, come to me.
Phillip had finally caught up to me.
"What is it?" he asked, leaning over my shoulder. I looked up and out over the cemetery parking lot.