The Timekeeper's Daughter

by C J M Naylor

  "Why are you doing this?" Phillip asked.

  "I haven't met your mother or your father. I'm sorry if you are not on good terms with either of them, but I would like to know the parents of the man I'm about to marry. I've known you for two years Phillip; this is absurd. I've only known my biological father for a month and I've already introduced you to him and you ruined the occasion. Just give me a chance here."

  "Abigail this is different. And I hardly ruined the occasion with your father—he had a hand in that himself."

  "How?" I asked. "How is it different?"

  "My father has disapproved of everything I've done in my life," Phillip said. "He wanted me to go to public school, so I went to comprehensive school. He wanted me to go to university here, so I went in London. He wanted me to be a doctor, so I chose to be a librarian and studier of text."

  "I still don't understand how that is different."

  "Before I left for school, my father and I had a huge row. He hit me and I said I would not be around a man like that. He's abused my mother too. I saw him do it once, but they never knew I was watching."

  My heart went out to Phillip. He had never told me any of this before. I suddenly felt sorry for bringing him here. His grandmother probably didn't know about it either. It wasn't a bad idea to try and fix this, but maybe Christmas wasn't the best time.

  "Why didn't you ever tell me this?"

  "I just didn’t want you to know that not everything about my life is great."

  Phillip's eyes began to water. I could tell, but he quickly tried to hide it by looking down.

  "Phillip—" I started to say, but he intervened.

  "No, it's okay. We've tried to fixed you up and now we can try and fix me."

  He got out of the car and grabbed the suitcases out of the trunk. I watched as he walked up the garden path to the front door. I sat there considering how irrational I was and maybe how I needed to start thinking things through before reacting. I may have ruined the start of Christmas for Phillip, but we were here now and I couldn't change it. I vowed to make it better.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  A soft breeze swept against my skin as I made my way up the sidewalk to the front door. The first thing that caught my attention about the house were the wind chimes. They were everywhere—dangling from the hooks by the front door—to one merely hanging at the sidewalk gate. With the wind, they blew—chiming noises could be heard from all over. There was something about the sound that was peaceful.

  "Abby."

  My brief moment of peace slipped away and I realized Phillip was leaning outside of the front door.

  "Are you coming?" he asked me.

  I nodded and quickly made my way through the front door. The house was warm and inviting—the walls were adorned with many photographs of Phillip and his family as well as decorations. If I were an outsider, I would never have guessed that what Phillip had said about his father was true. The home seemed lovely and adoring, but I knew never to judge a book by its cover.

  "Abigail," Phillip said, "this is my mother, Edna."

  A tall, skinny woman stepped forward, extending her bony hand. Her face was warm and inviting.

  "Lovely to meet you, Abigail," she said.

  "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Hughes."

  The floor creaked and my eyes jumped to the archway that led into the kitchen. I was a little taken aback at first sight, because it was literally an older version of Phillip before my eyes. Phillip's resemblance to his father was strikingly similar, but where Phillip was warm-hearted, there was something cold about his father. I thought it might be in the way he carried himself. But perhaps it was simply because I had already known things about the man.

  “Father,” Phillip said, "this is Abigail. I think now is the best time to tell you both that we are getting married, probably in the summer."

  The look on Phillip's mother's face was like a young schoolgirl going giddy for a homemade treat.

  "Why didn't you say that right away? I'm very excited for the both of you!"

  I couldn't help but smile at her. She really seemed like a kind woman and I felt upset that Phillip didn't get to see her very often because of his father.

  Phillip's father stepped forward and held out his hand. I took it.

  "Michael Hughes," he said gruffly, "it is a pleasure to meet you."

  "You as well, sir," I responded.

  Phillip's mother led us all into the living room. Michael said he would talk to Phillip later, but said he had to make a run to the hospital. I found this to be odd since we had just gotten there, but I figured it was because of the problems between Phillip and his father.

  "The wedding is in the summer, you said?" Edna asked.

  "Well," Phillip said, glancing over at me, "we were thinking about summer, weren't we Abby."

  "Maybe," I said smiling. "I would definitely love for it to be in the summer, but we would have to get started on planning very soon."

  "I could help with that," Edna added in, "I love weddings."

  She was clearly very excited about the prospect of Phillip getting married. She asked about my parents and I told her I was adopted. I left out the part of finding out about Mathias however. I explained that Phillip and I had met at university. Overall, the afternoon went very well. It was later on with Phillip's father that I was worried about.

  That night I was lying awake in bed. My mind was racing. Phillip's mother had made a Christmas Eve dinner, but Phillip told me it was only the beginning. He said her Christmas feasts were like nothing else. He seemed happy to be around her and I felt saddened that he felt he had to stay away from her just so he wouldn't have to interact with his father. Phillip never started any conversation with his father at dinner. His father would ask what the librarian business was like. The sarcasm was clearly evident anytime Phillip's father spoke. A part of me was enraged that his father could think that way, but at the same time I was trying not to judge his father too harshly.

  A dryness in my throat was killing me, until I couldn't take it any longer. I tore myself from the warm sheets of the bed and made my way down to the first floor of the house. I was about to cross into the living room in order to get to the kitchen, but I froze just at the archway. I could hear Phillip talking—to his father.

  "I have to admit Phillip," Michael said, "that girl is probably the best thing you've done in your life. I like her."

  I wanted to throw up. How did Phillip feel about this?

  "Thanks," Phillip muttered.

  "You need to come home more often though," Michael went on, "your mother has been very upset with you. Whines all the time about how Phillip isn't here."

  I decided I should go back to my room. I turned to leave, but the floor creaked and I heard someone get up from the couch. I looked over my shoulder just as Michael walked into the hallway.

  "Abigail!" he said, a grin on his face.

  "I'm sorry Mr. Hughes," I said suddenly, "I was coming to get a drink of water. I didn't mean to listen in."

  "Not to worry!" Mr. Hughes said smiling. "Please call me Michael. Come in, come in, I was just chatting with Phillip."

  I hesitated, but followed him into the living room. The room had two divans—Phillip's father sat down on the longer one whereas Phillip was sitting in the love seat. I sat down next to Phillip and he pulled me in close to him. I realized that Michael had been drinking. One bottle of whiskey was on the table in front of me, along with Michael’s empty glass that he now began to refill.

  "So, how did you two meet?"

  "I met Phillip in class at university," I said.

  "Oh, you are in university," Michael said, clearly surprised. "Well, that I didn't expect."

  "My father is very traditional," Phillip stated, "he doesn't believe in women receiving an education."

  "Now, now, Phillip," Michael said, waving his hand. "I see no problem with Abigail receiving an education. She will need to be bringing in some money after all. I doubt this librarian busin
ess pays well. She'll probably end up making more than you."

  "Phillip actually works in a very prestigious library," I told Michael, "he has an office and access to all the resources the library has available—including archived texts. We were recently sitting down to talk and it looks like I will be able to stay home and he'll be able to work."

  "Well, isn't that fortunate," Michael said. “However, I cannot see why you would need to stay home. Not like this boy has the balls to produce children. He's always been on the feminine side."

  I always felt the need to speak my mind, so I did. "He seems more masculine than you are now," I said. "He doesn't need alcohol to show off his toughness, especially in the presence of a lady."

  Michael looked impressed.

  "Well damn, Phillip," Michael said, "you've got yourself a tough little bitch."

  Phillip immediately rose to his feet.

  "Don't you fucking call her that!" he shouted at his father.

  Michael stood up, swaying a bit, but pointed a finger at his son. Spit flew out of his mouth as he shouted.

  "I'll call the little whore whatever I fucking please!"

  Before I could say anything or react in any way, Phillip had socked his father straight in the nose. Michael tumbled to the floor, his hand covering his bleeding nose, mumbling incoherent words.

  Lights came on from upstairs and Edna and Phillip's grandmother came running down.

  "Phillip, what is going on?" Edna shouted. She looked at her son and her husband on the floor. Blood was pouring out of Michael's nose.

  "I've had enough of his shit, mum!" Phillip shouted. "He's the reason I haven't been here. He just called Abigail a whore. Why should I let this man be in our lives? Why should he be in yours? There comes a time when enough is enough. I know he's hurt you in the past."

  Phillip's grandmother's eyes widened and she looked at her daughter.

  "Has he hit you?" she asked her daughter.

  Edna looked unable to speak. She clearly did not know Phillip knew about the abuse. She looked at her mother and nodded. Her eyes began to water, and then tears were pouring from them. I could only stand in the background and watch in sadness as Phillip wrapped his arms around his mother. Michael continued to lie on the floor, moaning in pain, while Phillip and his mother embraced each other.

  The events of the night before were still fresh in my mind the next morning. Phillip's grandmother had threatened to call the police if Michael didn't get some clothes and leave. The two of them had a shouting argument and at one point it seemed like Michael was about to hit Marie, but Phillip intervened and ultimately Michael left—surrendering his house keys.

  Marie and Edna prepared a Christmas dinner throughout the next day. The four of us went to church in the morning. That night we feasted on turkey, potatoes, pies, and many other wonderful foods. Marie and Edna went to bed and Phillip and I stayed up to talk.

  We both sat on the couch in the living room. Phillip was laying his head in my lap, staring up at the ceiling. I curled my fingers in his hair and played with it.

  "Thanks for the present," he suddenly said.

  I looked down at him. His tone had not been sarcastic, but serious.

  "Are you serious?" I asked.

  "Yes," Phillip said. "Besides you, my mother and grandmother are two of the most important people in my life. I've missed them so much. And my mum has finally realized my dad need some help."

  "Do you think there is still hope for them?" I asked. I seriously wondered if there was.

  "I do," he said, "I think that alcohol was a big factor in my father's behavior. I've seen pictures of when they were younger and dated. My grandmother said they were happy; or at least they looked happy. I think they can turn it all around. I believe they can. And if and when my father does, I'll forgive him."

  I smiled. This was just one of the many reasons why I loved Phillip. Sure, he had a foul mouth at times and could be a little hot-headed. But he was also caring and compassionate, and he could still forgive someone even when they did horrible things.

  "I want to show you something," Phillip said.

  He got up from the couch and pulled me after him.

  It was snowing again. I loved it when it snowed on Christmas. Phillip and I had thrown on our jackets and made our way through the snow. His backyard was literally a forest. He continued to pull me into the forest until finally we found our way into a small opening area.

  A gazebo stood in the middle of the opening. It was fairly old, but still looked beautiful. It was white and the snow around it made it look even more special. Phillip pulled me into the gazebo, into the center, and began to kiss me.

  We stood there, our bodies pressed against each other. It was a perfect moment.

  Finally, he pulled away and spoke.

  "I used to come here when I was a child," he said, "especially after days that my father and I fought. I would just sit here and let nature calm me—let it take away the problems of my life."

  "It's beautiful," I whispered.

  "Two more things," Phillip said. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small box. It looked like a ring box, but I knew it wasn't a ring. I already had that. He opened the box and a delicate bracelet was inside it. The chain was golden and one charm was hung on it. Engraved on the charm were our initials, PH + AJ.

  "Phillip and Abigail," Phillip told me as he put the bracelet on my wrist.

  I looked up at him and knew there were tears in my eyes.

  "Thank you," I whispered.

  "Finally," Phillip said as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a sealed envelope, "This letter is one that I want you to save for our wedding day. I want you to write one for me as well and I'll save it too. If anything should happen to either of us, we can read them, but otherwise I think it will make our wedding day something special. Not that it isn't already special."

  I smiled at him and took the letter, placing it carefully into my pocket. It was worth more than the bracelet. It was a piece of Phillip. A piece of him he was choosing to share with me.

  "I promise I won't read it," I said, "But I think I'll keep it in my pocket as a constant reminder of you."

  Phillip laughed at me and we kissed.

  Edna and I sat alone in the kitchen the next morning. Phillip was out with his grandmother, so we decided to chat over a cup of tea.

  "Do you approve of us?" I asked her. I knew it was probably a strange question to ask her, but after everything that had happened with Phillip's father, I wanted to know. I felt like I needed to know. She smiled at me.

  "I do," Edna responded. "He seems happy with you. I'll be honest with you Abigail. I knew Phillip and his father did not get along and I tried everything I could to make it better. I feel that Phillip would have probably left sooner if it hadn't been for me. I should have told Michael enough was enough, but I didn't. I'm glad he found someone special in London though."

  "You and Michael were happy at one point. Right?"

  Edna nodded. "I admit we were happy together. I truly believe it was the drinking that caused so much strife in our marriage. Drinking can do terrible things to people."

  I heard the front door opening and the voices of Phillip and his grandmother. They came into the kitchen, carrying their bags of groceries. They had gone shopping to replenish Edna's kitchen after the tremendous dinners she had cooked. Edna and her mother began to unload the groceries and Phillip pulled me out of the kitchen.

  "Are you ready to go back to London tomorrow?" he asked me.

  "Yes. I'll be sad to go though. Your mother is really nice."

  He smiled. "So is yours.”

  We arrived back in London the day after next. I returned to my home for a late Christmas dinner with my family. Afterward, I was sitting at the table listening to my mum clean dishes. I had tried to help, but she insisted on doing it herself. As I sipped at my cup of tea, I thought of Mathias. Had he been alone at Christmas? Had Ian been with him? I had not seen him since our altercat
ion at Kettlers and a part of me felt guilty. He didn't have anyone at Christmas and as much as I was suspicious of him and his behavior, I felt I should go see him.

  The one dilemma with seeing Mathias late at night was that Ian was not waiting for me like he usually was. I clutched my coat tighter as the cold wind rustled against me. I was entirely unsure of how I'd be getting into Big Ben tonight. After a failed attempt at going in the usual way, as well as some strange looks from security guards, I wandered around the outside of the building. Hopefully the authorities would not be summoned because of a strange girl wandering around—hopefully.

  "Hello, stranger."

  I turned and saw Ian making his way toward me.

  "Hello," I said, softly. I was freezing as the wind continued to blow against my cheeks.

  "I saw you from the clock tower," he said, before I could ask.

  "Do you go up there a lot?"

  He grinned. "All the time. I kind of feel like a king in a fairy tale. A king admiring his city. So, what can the king help you with m'lady?"

  "I would like to see Mathias," I said, adding in a curtsy. "I felt I should see him, since it's the Christmas season and all."

  "Very well," Ian said, "Follow me."

  "I haven't seen you for a while," Mathias said. He sat where he always sat when I entered his study—in his desk chair. Ian had left us alone.

  "You shouldn't be too surprised."

  "Perhaps," Mathias said, his concentration on a book before him, "but I would have thought since I paid the bill you would have showed me some consideration."

  I took off my coat and laid it on the edge of the couch.

  "I'm sorry Phillip reacted that way," I said, sitting down on the couch, "but I thought you would show him some consideration too. He is my fiancé. Why did you have to start playing the role of upset father?"

  Mathias looked up at me and then sighed. He took off his reading glasses and stood up, perching himself on the edge of his desk and crossing his arms.