by C J M Naylor
"I'm sorry Abigail. I just wasn't ready to be that involved with your life. I'm trying to work on it, but at the same time, I think it is important that you learn the essentials of being a Timekeeper."
"So, education before parenting?" I said. "That sounds lovely."
Mathias sighed again.
"I know you have another father, Abigail. I don't want to take his place."
"My father has dementia. He is deteriorating every day. Sometimes he can't even remember who I am. I need a father now more than ever."
The look on Mathias' face turned sad. I knew this information was probably a lot to throw at him, but I felt he deserved to know it.
"I feel like you don't trust me Abigail.”
"I don't. Why can't you tell me more information about who my mother was?"
"I've already told you! I've said everything there is to say."
Mathias looked away from me and stared at the other end of the room. I didn't trust him. I didn't believe his response. I couldn't if I was going to believe the letter that my biological mother had left. He knew more than he was letting on. But I also couldn't tell him about the letter, not yet. Until I figured something out, I didn't think I could stay there any longer. Why should I stay there?
I stood up to leave and reached for my coat, but Mathias caught my arm.
"Wait," he said.
"Why? You aren't going to tell me anything or be anything to me."
My coat fell off the couch behind me and something fell out of the inside pocket and hit the floor. I turned my attention to it and my heart dropped. It was the pearl necklace. I went to pick it up, but Mathias pulled my arm so hard I landed down on the couch. He hovered over me, angry.
"Where did you get that?" he shouted at me. His voice was loud and booming. I suddenly felt very fearful. He was in a rage I had never seen him in.
"It's mine.”
"You went there didn't you? Why did you go there? What have you done?"
"I haven't done anything!" I shouted back. "You wouldn't tell me anything, so I went to find out for myself."
"We aren't supposed to go back there!"
I stood up to leave again. I had had enough.
"No!"
Mathias grabbed my arm and pulled me back. I looked him square in the eye.
"Let go of me."
He did at that. I grabbed my coat and ran down the hall—leaving the necklace. Hot tears poured out of my eyes. I wanted to get away from this place. In the process, I longed to know the truth. The actual truth. I wanted to get the story straight. So, I decided to go back to the place where I knew her past was held.
The old Headquarters was dark once again. I entered it, shaking from the cold water I had just swum through. I walked to the room that had been my mother's and put on some of her warm clothes.
I was surprised to find an old photograph in one of the dresser drawers. I had not seen it the last time I was here. The picture showed, once again, a much younger Mathias. His arm was around a woman, but the woman's face had been cut out of the picture. I found this to be very odd. The frame of the woman did not look like that of my mother, but someone a little different. I turned the photograph over and found written on the back Mathias and, but the second part was scribbled out. I tried to read it closer up, but I could not tell whose name had been scribbled out. I placed the picture back into the drawer, while finding the person's head being cut out to be very eerie.
I went back to the main room and attempted to light a fire in the fireplace. I was taken aback however when I saw the dying smoke of another fire. Someone had been here.
I heard a creaking sound and I turned around. There was no one there.
"Hello! Who is there?"
I almost screamed because I wasn't expecting what happened next. A woman stepped out from the shadows of the hallway. She was older than me, in her middle forties. She had brown hair that was cut short and her face looked old and tired. She wore an old gray dress and plain shoes.
"Who are you?" I asked. My heart was racing.
"Please don't be afraid," the woman said. Her voice was soft and had a high pitch to it.
"I've been sending you those notes," the woman told me. "I saw you in the cemetery and left you the note on how to get here."
"Did you leave those threats?" I asked.
"No," the woman said, "those were left by someone you already know."
"Who?"
"Please, let me talk to you about everything first. There is so much to say."
"You can start by telling me who you are then.”
The woman smiled a kind smile at me.
"My name is Bessie. I was your mother's best friend."
A part of me felt rather peaceful about this. Another part of me felt rather unsure. Was I ready for the answers I had desperately been wanting? I knew I was, but I was still fearful. The world of the Timekeepers seemed to be getting bigger.
CHAPTER TWELVE
January 1944
I did not stay long that first night with Bessie. I was still rather unsure of meeting an entirely new person and decided I was not ready to know everything just yet. I was afraid. I told her I would come back and talk about it some more. She explained that these things would bring up emotions I was probably trying to forget. She told me to take all the time I needed. So, I did. She continued to leave me notes however. Now that I knew who she was, it felt more like there was someone watching over me.
I spent the remainder of December away from Mathias. I didn't want to be around him after the way he had reacted. I knew the necklace probably brought back memories that he was not expecting, but I also think he overreacted. Phillip and I spent New Year's Eve together, and soon enough the cold month of January was upon us.
The word busy could describe how everyone felt. I was busy with a new semester at Birkbeck, whereas Phillip was busy at his job more than he had ever been. His parents decided to seek professional counseling for their marital problems, but more importantly, for Michael’s alcoholism. I hoped they would be able to work through the problems that their marriage had been enduring for quite some time and that maybe Phillip would be able to forgive his father.
My father's health continued to deteriorate. He no longer had any recollection of who my mother was and it killed her heart. I could see the various emotions on her face, even though she constantly tried to hide them. As of late, my mother began working more hours at her job to help pay for the bills from December. Mrs. Baxter was around more than ever, she claimed she was just taking care of my father, but I knew she didn't want to be alone. Her husband had passed away several years ago, so when she left us each day, it was to go home to an empty house. My mother offered to let her move in with us, but Mrs. Baxter was too proud and said she wasn't old enough to be in a "home" yet.
One day when I was finally free of the reins of schoolwork, I decided to sit down and write my letter to Phillip. The letter he had given me was still in my pocket, where I kept it as a reminder of him. I realized how terrible I was at writing down my emotions. I talked about how much I loved him and that I couldn't wait to be with him on our wedding day. Overall, the letter was rather short, but I think the point got across. I figured he probably had a much better letter written. I sat there for a while, rewriting it until I felt it was the best it could be.
"Here you are," I said one afternoon in Phillip’s office, handing him the letter.
"Thank you," he said. "Like you, I will keep this in my coat pocket at all times as a constant reminder of you."
He smiled at me and I sat down on the leather couch. He got up and plopped down next to me and pulled me into his arms. We kissed for a few moments before finally he lay down on his back, pulling me in to lie on top of him.
"Now that the holidays are over," he said, "we should be thinking about dates. I think summer is good, this summer definitely."
I laughed.
"Well?" he asked.
"This summer."
He sat up an
d looked at me.
"Are you being serious?" he asked me.
"Yes. I know it will be coming up rather quickly, and we will have a lot of work to do, but I want to be with you as soon as I can."
He smiled and we kissed each other again. We held each other close and he whispered into my ear.
"I love you. I feel like we are always honest with each other."
A feeling of despair shot through my body and I felt bad. I felt like I wasn't being honest with him. There were things I still had not told him. I had not mentioned the old Headquarters, what happened between Mathias and I recently, and finally about meeting Bessie. I hoped that could change.
The old Headquarters was dark and musty. I looked around everywhere, but Bessie was not there. I made my way to my mother's room and began to look through her dresser drawers. I was intent on answers.
My heart pounded when I found a false bottom in the bottom drawer of the dresser. I pulled up the false bottom and found an old chest underneath it. The chest was very small and wooden. I pulled it out and laid it on the ground in front of me. I opened it and was surprised to find it stuffed with several pieces of paper. My heart pounded again when I realized they were letters. There were two written in the same handwriting that I had been receiving, the ones that had been threats, not the ones from Bessie.
Elisabeth,
This is my first communication with you. I have been watching you and your husband for quite some time. I know that you are lying to him about something and I intend to find out what it is. There are things that you are keeping hidden from your family that need to be brought out into the light.
Please respond to me. Leave a letter in the same place you found this one. I will get it.
The next letter made me feel tense. I wanted to hurt the person that was talking to my mother this way. Why would they say such horrible things? But then I had to remember, this was the person who must've killed her.
Elisabeth,
You cannot hide from me, as much as you think you can. Either you set up a meeting to meet me, or I will find another way. And trust me, you don't want that.
I was sure there had to be more letters, but I had read everything that was inside the chest. I put the letters back in and placed them back inside the drawer. I would just have to keep looking until I found some more letters or clues somewhere in this place.
"We should go to Scotland."
My hair blew gently around my face. Phillip and I were walking to the London Library. He wasn't working today—we were just going to study together.
"Didn't we just return from Scotland?" I asked. I grasped his hand as we turned a corner. It was something I found myself doing a lot in the past few weeks. So many things had changed that I was afraid I was going to lose these moments with the people I cared about. I wanted to hold onto them. Even in something as simple as turning a corner.
"Yes, it's a lovely place. But I'm not proposing we go to Glasgow, but somewhere different."
I gave Phillip a stare and he smiled. We made our way up the walkway to the library and inside where it was much warmer. I didn't ask him anything else until we were inside his office with the door shut behind us.
"So, why are you bringing up Scotland?" I asked. "Like I said, we were just there."
"And like I said, a different part of Scotland," he responded. He put his hands around my waist. "A more private part, for just a weekend, and just for the two of us."
"My mum—"
He cut me off with his lips against mine.
"—won't care," he added. "She lets you make your own decisions. You are the one that pretends she cares."
"That doesn't mean she doesn't care."
I pulled off my coat and threw it on the couch.
"Abby, you are eighteen years old," Phillip pestered me, "your mother lets you make your own decisions."
"She should still be guiding me more and suggest what's right," I suggested. "It's what most mothers would do. She really hasn't questioned me at all lately about when I've stayed over at your flat."
"Well, she isn't most mothers is she?" Phillip laughed.
My body tensed and I turned abruptly. My hands were balled into fists.
"Maybe because she isn't actually my mother!"
My voice had risen. I caught myself immediately and brought my hand up to my mouth. It was as if I was checking to see if I had actually said what I had said. Phillip's face was contorted into disbelief. There was no anger, or hurt, just disbelief. I think the expression of disbelief was the most hurtful expression of all. It meant that a person was actually questioning, wondering, and trying to know if something was true. If I had said what I had said—and more importantly—if I had meant it.
I grabbed my coat off the couch and put it back on.
"I have to go," I said.
Phillip didn't stop me. I didn't look at him as I left. For all I knew, he still wore that same disbelieving expression.
"Are you hungry?"
I looked up. My mother stood in the doorway of my bedroom. I had come home and went straight there to read. It helped me get my mind off things.
"I'm fine," I said, looking back down at my book.
"You didn't come down for dinner."
My mother walked over to my bed and sat down on the edge, she pulled the book from my hands and set it down by my side.
"You usually come down for dinner," she added. "What's wrong?"
I didn't say anything for a moment. I tried to read her eyes. She was worried—I could tell. I wondered if she could read mine.
"Why don't you ever get upset when I spend so much time at Phillips?" I asked.
She raised her eyebrows. She was surprised.
"Well, he is your fiancé. Isn't it custom for two people who love each other to spend time together?"
"Yes, but don't you get upset when I stay over there, or when we went out of town together?"
"Abigail, you are eighteen years old. You are a grown woman now and can make your own decisions. Sure, you live in my home, but I'm going to treat you like an adult. Isn't that what you want?"
I nodded and looked away from her. I stared out my bedroom window and into the streets. It was already dark out.
I heard my mother get up and walk out. She knew I didn't want to talk right now and would leave me alone. She knew me, yet I felt distant from her.
I stood outside a house that was mine but wasn't mine. All the houses in the neighborhood were the same of course. But this wasn't my house. It was Mrs. Baxter's. Why was I here?
It was night. The wind was blowing hard—trees were blowing and snapping their branches against houses. My hair whipped around my face as I made my way up the steps toward Mrs. Baxter's door. The door came open before I reached it and I stepped into the house.
The door slammed shut behind me. It was dark inside the house. I reached around and tried to find a light switch so I could see my way around, but I didn't find one.
A creaking sound came from the end of the hallway in front of me.
"Hello?" I called out into the darkness.
No response came from the shadows. I felt chills go up my body. I felt cold. I felt like I should leave immediately.
I turned around and reached out for the door handle. I turned the knob, but the door did not come open. I tried to lock it and unlock it, but the door would not budge. My body tensed as I heard another creaking sound behind me.
I turned around, but there was still only darkness.
"Hello?" I called out again.
The sounds of hoarse breathing from another person filtered across the hallway. My body stiffened against the door. How far away was the breather? Were they dangerous? I slowly extended my hand—fearfully. I felt nothing at the end of my fingertips. They simply fell through the air in front of me.
My eyes burned as the lights in the whole house suddenly flashed on. I threw up my hands to shield my eyes from the sudden light. I blinked a few times, but finally my eyes adjusted
to the light and I saw Mrs. Baxter standing in front of me.
"Well, it took you long enough to turn on the lights dear," Mrs. Baxter said.
"I—" I began, but I was startled. I looked over at the light switch. I had not turned them on.
"Mrs. Baxter," I said, "why am I here? I mean, it seems so late. I didn't mean to bother you."
"Well, you are here," Mrs. Baxter replied, "and you did bother me. So, you might as well come into the kitchen for a spot of tea.”
Mrs. Baxter turned and waddled away down the hallway and into the kitchen. I supposed I better follow suit. I followed her into the kitchen and took a seat at the table. She stood at the counter, pouring some tea into a cup and then placed it down in front of me.
"So why did you come?" Mrs. Baxter asked me.
I was bewildered. I had no idea why I had come.
"I told you I don't know," I said. "Don't you know? I mean you were out in the hallway and opened the door for me. Didn't you?"
"Only you can open doors for yourself," Mrs. Baxter answered.
I raised my eyebrows in wonderment. What did that mean?
"I'm sorry?"
"Abigail," Mrs. Baxter said, "I've known you since your mum and dad took you in from that orphanage. You've always been the kind of girl to find her way. Why are you so different now?"
"I didn't realize I was," I replied, "Mrs. Baxter, do you know something I don't?"
"You seem different these days," Mrs. Baxter responded, "Like you aren't sure of things. But I know you Abigail. You will find your way."
A grandfather clock began to toll now.
"I have to go now Abigail," Mrs. Baxter said, "I won't be able to come back anymore either."
"What do you mean?"
But Mrs. Baxter didn't answer. She stood up and walked into the hallway. The hallway was filled with more light, so much light that I could not see beyond that. Mrs. Baxter walked into the light and then there was darkness.
My eyes opened. I looked up at the ceiling above me. I brought my hand to my heart. It was beating fast and, once again, I was sweating profusely.