by C J M Naylor
The look on Phillip's face was one of fury. He clearly didn't understand how much Bridget had kept from him in regards to her feelings about him.
"I think you are going a bit over the line, Bridget," Phillip finally said.
"Phillip, you baby her, you treat her like your princess," Bridget said. "I'm not saying you can't do that, but I do not think it helps in situations like this. I have known Abigail her entire life. I'm just trying to be the friend she needs, the friend you haven't been. You are her fiancé, but you also need to be her friend, and a friend would be courageous enough to have told her to seek professional help."
I could not take this. "I do not need help though," I shouted. "I don't. I have a gift Bridget. It is real. None of it is in my head."
"And you've roped Phillip in this delusion?" Bridget asked.
"Bridget, I have a supernatural ability," I finally said. "I have power, I have premonitions, I can see the future and travel to the past. I'm a Timekeeper. It isn't a delusion."
Bridget looked at me. Once again, she wasn't saying anything. She just looked at me, and then, "Goodbye, Abby."
I stood there, frozen, watching my closest friend walk away. And then I turned on Phillip.
"Why did you tell her?" I asked.
"She deserved to know," he responded. "Listen, I am sorry. I didn't know that she'd react that way. I just felt like she should know."
"And to complicate matters, I’m now not even a normal Timekeeper."
Phillip approached me and stood there and I buried myself into him and he held me tightly. He smelled like clean sheets. He must have been doing some laundry.
"I don't know what to do Phillip," I said, "I've been trying so hard to find answers to all of my questions. You said I was normal, but now I'm not even a normal Timekeeper. What am I?"
"You are you," Phillip responded. "You are my girl. I don't give a shit what kind of Timekeeper you are. Abby, the day you said yes to my marriage proposal was the day I became the happiest man on the planet. As long as we have each other, I promise everything will be okay. We will try to find the answers you need, but don't let them consume you."
My eyes turned up to his and I stared at him for a few moments. Before I knew it, our lips were on each other's. His hands were stroking my hair and we were connected, inseparable.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
My mind was racing as I made my way home. Bridget was gone. She had left me. I cursed myself for not telling her. Would it have been the same if I had told her earlier on? I didn't know. I feared it would have been—that she wouldn't believe me and she'd think I was insane. My mind turned to the night before. The only thing that I could think about was the councilor's blood. My body remembered the hot, sticky feeling I felt when I had fallen in it—not knowing it was blood at that point. I remembered his sliced throat and the message on the wall.
I shook my head vigorously to rid myself of the thoughts. The focus needed to be on where to go from here. Did I trust Mathias? The answer was no. He had lied to me about the initiation process and if the message had anything to do with it, he was lying to me about my mother. Did I trust him with my life? Most people would say they did trust their biological father with their life, but I did not.
The cold, bitter wind blew against my skin and I shivered. I pulled the coat I was wearing tighter around me and turned another corner. I don't know why I was walking. I had walked before, but it was a shorter ride by cab. I needed to think everything through and walking helped me think. Within ten minutes, I was at my house. I pulled out my keys and unlocked the front door, stepped in, and locked it behind me. Once the door was securely shut, I felt relaxed and warmer.
Footsteps sounded from the other end of the hall. I looked up to see my mother in the archway to the kitchen.
"Abigail, is everything okay? Phillip just phoned. He said you were distraught when you left his flat."
I nodded. Everything was fine. I was fine. Everything would be okay. I was a little aggravated with Phillip, though. He didn't need to phone my mother and “distraught” was hardly the word I would use.
"Sweetheart."
I could tell she was concerned. I turned toward the stairs, but she caught up to me.
"Abigail."
I turned to look at my mother. I realized I probably looked a fright. Cold from head to toe. I had not bathed since before the ball.
"Sweetheart, I can tell that you are struggling with something. Please talk to me about it."
I shook my head. "I'm fine, mum. Really." I took a step onto the stairs.
"Do not lie to me."
I froze. Why did mothers have to be intuitive?
"I do not want to talk about it," I responded, "just let it go. I'm sorry I was out and didn't come home. It won't happen again."
"Dear, if something is wrong, please tell me. I can help you."
I lost it. I never lost it with her, but I did.
"No, you can't!" Tears welled up in my eyes. "You have no idea, mum. You don't. Please just leave me alone. It's not like you could help me, even if I wanted you to."
"I'm your mother sweetheart."
"No, you're not."
I said it without thinking. I didn't even process it. The only thought that had come to mind was my biological mother, a woman who I had never known, and her standing in the wind, the bombs dropping around her.
"What?"
A hot, salty tear rolled down my cheek. Did I ever run out of tears? I turned to face my mum again and saw that tears were also falling from her eyes. It broke my heart to see her cry, but the only thing I could do was make it worse, because I was too angry to stop myself.
"You're not my mother. You found me, and you raised me. That's it."
I had stunned her into silence. I left her there and went to my room to change.
The church was cramped the next day. I sat in between my mother and father. My father was holding my hand for whatever reason. My mother's presence next to me was horrible. I thought I could feel the sadness seeping out of her body.
After the mass was over, my parents and I went to have lunch at a café nearby.
"We'll need to be getting into the shelter early tonight," my mother said as she ate the salad that she had ordered. "There is some talk about a possible raid." Her composure was like ice. She spoke the words in a monotone voice. I had broken her heart—it was written all over her face.
"I'm sure the alarm will sound," I reasoned with her, "it always does."
She gave me a look of fury. She didn't appreciate it when I argued with her, especially when it was about something as dire as this. There had been a few raids in the past two months, but nothing extreme. I didn't see why it was necessary to take the precautions.
"Are you going over to Phillip’s?"
My mother was helping my father look over the menu as she was talking to me. He was having a very difficult time reading now. He was beginning to forget what even basic foods were sometimes.
"I don't think so," I said, "I'll probably see him tomorrow."
"Well if you do go somewhere, just make sure you are home before dark. I may not be able to get you into the shelter for the night, but I'll at least have you in the house.”
The long hallway of the Headquarters seemed gloomier than usual. The walk to Mathias' desk was excruciatingly long. I could see the fire burning at the end of the hallway as well as the familiar shape of Mathias' figure at his desk. I made my way down the hallway, casually glancing up at the many different portraits of my ancestors.
"Hello, Abigail," Mathias said. He didn't bother to look up from whatever he was reading. I took a seat in my normal spot at the couch and crossed my legs.
"You lied to me."
He looked up at me.
"What would your choice have been if I hadn't?"
I didn't answer.
"That's what I thought."
"You're so hypocritical," I said. "You sit there and tell me we can't interfere with another person's free w
ill but then you do it with mine. You took away my choice."
I wasn't shouting. I was calmly stating my feelings, and I think that made it worse for him.
"What happened last night?" I asked.
He looked at me stoically. For a moment, I thought he might gloss over it, like he did with almost everything else he considered "not related to Timekeeping."
"Councilor Winston was murdered," Mathias finally answered. "We do not have a suspect at this time."
"You disappeared right after the lights went out."
"And?" He looked at me quizzically.
"I thought that it was odd that the lights went out, and you so happened to disappear, and then the councilor ended up dead."
"Are you trying to accuse me of something?" A look of anger was painted onto his features.
I swallowed and considered my next words carefully. Either I was sitting in front of a cold-blooded killer who could easily take me out, or I was about to be verbally assaulted for false accusations.
"I'm only asking where you went." That was good. It didn't point fingers, but at the same time it didn't clear him.
"Where do you think?" he shot back. "I went to turn on the bloody lights. Why did you write that message on the wall?"
It took an extra minute to process the question that erupted from his mouth. Why did I write the message? He literally just asked it. He didn't ask me if I wrote the message, but why. I could not believe it. I stood up.
"Excuse me?"
"You heard me. The council was very upset by the murder of Councilor Winston, and they did not appreciate your antics against your own father."
I felt like invisible rocks were stoning me with each of his accusatory words.
"I did not write that!" I said, my voice growing louder. "Why would you say that?"
"The blood was all over you!"
He grew red in the face and stood up from his desk. He planted his hands on them and looked me in the eye, clearly waiting for me to lie and say yes. I would not.
"Because I fell in it! Someone pushed me in the dark! I fell in it!"
"Abigail," Mathias said, "I do not believe you had anything to do with the death of the councilor. For all we know, it could have been some kind of staged suicide, which is what the council is saying because he was a bitter man.
“Regardless, we need to begin making plans for your studies elsewhere."
"My studies elsewhere?” This threw me for a loop. I had no idea what he was talking about.
"Every Timekeeper must complete a separate study in another Timekeeper’s country," Mathias told me. "Usually they go alone, but I will be accompanying you since you are still new to the business."
“I can't just up and leave, though. I also have university."
"Which is why we are planning it. What do you think about traveling with me this summer? We could go to several different countries as well."
He seemed excited about this. I felt guilt for being so distant from him as a daughter, but he was the one being distant from me. Maybe he was trying to finally be a bit closer.
"I'm getting married in the summer," I told him.
He froze, looking at me.
"Married?" Mathias repeated, "to whom?"
I stared at him incredulously. Was he being serious?
"To Phillip!" I almost shouted.
"Ah, yes. I forgot about the boy. Well, that will have to wait."
I stood up. I was furious at him. Was he seriously telling me that I would have to put off my marriage?
"It isn't going to wait," I said. "It is going to happen. I'm sorry Mathias, but I can't just up and leave to take some Timekeeping field trip with you for two months."
I regretted saying it like that. He looked like I had just slapped him across the face.
"Timekeeping field trip," he repeated. "Abigail this is your heritage. This is who you are. I thought that was clear when I introduced you at the ball."
"Maybe this isn't what I want to be," I said.
"It's too late for you to go back now."
"Thanks to you. Regardless, I'm also because of my mother. I want to know about her and you haven't helped me learn anything at all. You've kept me in the dark and pushed me away from figuring out what happened to her."
"Who cares what happened to her!" Mathias shouted. "She is dead!"
"How can you say that? She was your wife. I think it's clear that she was murdered. How can you stand here and not want to know what happened to her? How can you stand here and continue to be this Timekeeper, yet not know the basic answer as to why she is dead?"
"Because I don't care!"
I couldn't think. I couldn't feel. Mathias, my mother's husband, didn't care. He didn't care about Elisabeth. How could he even say that? After he said he had waited for me. After he said he had tried everything he could to find out what happened to her. Or did he? Perhaps he was just a liar. Perhaps he was just a con man. Perhaps the message was true. It wouldn't have been the first time he had lied.
"I don't know what my mother saw in you," I responded. "For all I know you didn't love her."
He just stood there. Either he was too hurt to say anything, or this was the truth. I turned to leave.
"Abigail, wait."
"No. You've had your chances."
I felt his hand on my shoulder and turned around to push him away, but he went frozen. His eyes were glassy and began to roll back into his head and he fell to the floor.
"Mathias!"
I fell to my knees to try and pull him up. What was happening? But then I realized. He was having a premonition. This was probably what I looked like when I had a premonition. It was powerful. It made people see. It was why we had to stay locked away. It was why I didn't want this life.
His eyes rolled back and he took a gasp for air.
"What did you see?" I asked.
He looked up at me and I thought I saw his eyes water, but I assumed it was just the light because he turned away too fast.
"Mathias," I said. "What did you see?"
"Nothing important." His voice was low.
"It looked pretty important to me," I responded.
"It was nothing," he said again. "Now go, like you wanted."
"Just tell me what you s—"
"Please, just go."
"Mathias, just tell m—"
"Get the hell out!"
His face was red. His eyes were cold. He looked like the devil, and as I left, I decided he was.
"He said that to you?" Phillip asked again. I sat in his flat and sipped some coffee he had poured for me. I wasn't sad or crying. I wasn't angry or yelling. I was just empty. I didn't care anymore about Mathias.
I nodded and Phillip stood up.
"I'm going to beat the shit out of him. And you said you wouldn't go back."
"Phillip, you don't even know how to get in. Just forget it. I'm done with him. And that was you that said that."
I had decided to go to Phillip even though I had said I wouldn't see him today. I knew if I had gone straight home my mother would have been able to tell something was going on. If her daughter had a cold, heartless expression on her face I'm sure she would be able to tell. I couldn't hurt her again. I had already done it earlier.
"Why does he think he can talk to you like that?"
"Look at how your father talks to you," I responded.
"That's not the point," Phillip responded. "You barely know your father. He shouldn't talk like that to a daughter he's only just met."
"I'm sure it has something to do with my mother.”
"So, now you're defending him?"
"I'm not defending him. I'm just saying he has a lot of emotional issues and I'm sure they stem from that."
"Sounds like you're defending them."
"Phillip! Listen, both of our parents have made mistakes and I don't want us to repeat those when we get married."
"So, you're saying you think I'm going to turn out like my father?" Phillip responded, his face turni
ng red.
"I didn't say that. I just don't want us to make the same mistakes. You do have a temper."
"I do not have a bloody temper!" Phillip shouted, standing up.
I crossed my arms and gave him a look that said I was right.
"You always do this!" he snapped. "You come up with excuses for people instead of stating it how it is. Your mother abandoned you. Yet here you are on this grand mission to try and find out about her."
"You don't even know anything about her! Don't talk about her like you know her."
"And you know her, Abigail?"
I turned to leave. He didn't try to stop me. I slammed the door behind me. The thin walls of the building shook and a neighbor opened her door to look out and find out what was going on. I didn't say anything as I walked past.
How could he say that? He knew nothing about my mother. She was trying to protect me. She wouldn't deliberately put me in harm's way. He was just upset. I wasn't comparing him to his father—was I? Then again, maybe I was trying to fix people and make excuses for them.
The truth was I had no idea where my life was going. I didn't know what I was looking for. I had a fiancé who was right, a father who was wrong, a mother lost to me, and someone, supposedly the person who killed her, after me. Where was I going? What was I supposed to do?
It was getting dark and the sky was beginning to get cloudy. I turned in the direction of home and started walking. I needed to clear my head. It probably wasn't a good idea with night approaching, but I didn't care. I would take the risk. I could see the lights begin to go out and the ARP warden was out for the night.
I was less than a mile away from Barton Street when the air raid alarm sounded. The noise whirled loudly and left a ringing in my ears. It was dark and I stretched my head to look up at the sky. I didn't see anything, but I started to run. It sounded as if the alarm was getting louder. I made it to the front door, but it was locked. I found my key and quickly unlocked the door.
"Mum!" I shouted.
I slammed the door behind me. The house was dark and I could hear the screech of the alarm through the walls. The door to the backyard at the other end of the hall opened and my mother stood in the doorway. Her face was panic-stricken and she ran toward me, throwing her arms around me, and pulling me with her.