by C J M Naylor
"I wasn't ready," I said through my tears. "I wasn't ready for them to die."
"Who is ready? No one is ever ready for something like that. Abby, open the door. Please."
I reached up and unlocked the door. I moved forward a little bit and the door opened. Phillip came into the room and closed the door behind him. He bent down and pulled me up into his arms. He carried me to the bed and laid me down in it, then pulled the covers over me. I heard him take of his shoes and then he climbed into the bed as well. He pulled me against him and wrapped his arms around me.
"You can cry now," he whispered, "you can let everything out and I'll be here to help you and protect you."
I turned myself over in the bed so that I could face him. I let myself go.
Sleep consumed me. The following morning, I awoke to the smells of breakfast cooking from down below in the kitchen. Phillip was no longer in the bed with me. I climbed out and made my way downstairs.
I walked into the kitchen to find Phillip in his pajamas. He stood at the stove and was frying bacon and eggs.
"Good morning," he said.
I walked over to the kitchen table and sat down. A pot of coffee was in the middle of the table and two empty cups were set as well. I poured myself a hot cup of coffee and began to sip at it slowly.
"Morning," I finally responded. "Did I sleep through the whole night?"
"You did," Phillip said.
"Did I cry a lot?"
He nodded.
He distributed the eggs and bacon onto plates for us. I sat at the table and nibbled at my food with my fork.
"Still not hungry?" he asked.
"Not really.”
We sat there in silence for a moment before Phillip finally spoke again.
"I thought we could go down by the ocean today and watch the sunset," he said. "Do you think that would be something you would be interested in?"
I nodded. "I wouldn't mind that.”
He smiled at me and then finished his bacon. I continued to play with my food for a bit. I really wasn't hungry. There was too much on my mind right now and food was the last thing I was thinking about.
"Are you alright?" Phillip asked me.
I looked up at him in frustration. What kind of question was that? Of course, I wasn't alright. I shook my head and then pulled my legs up into my chair and hugged them. The tears began to flow. Phillip stood up from his chair and walked over to mine—kneeling down next to me.
"It'll be okay," he whispered, "I promise."
"My parents are dead, Phillip."
"I know, but you'll get through this."
I stood up from the chair and walked over to the kitchen sink. I turned the faucet on and began to run water on my hands and then brought the cold liquid up to my face and splashed it. The coldness felt good against my skin. Considering I felt coldness within me, I found the water soothing.
I turned off the faucet and turned around, leaning against the counter.
"I didn't want this to happen," I said, "I don't want to be a Timekeeper. It isn't me, Phillip. I'm not meant to do these magical things or whatever you call them. If I had never met Mathias, this probably wouldn't have happened."
"How do you know that?" Phillip asked me. "Abigail, just because you met a man who showed you the truth about yourself doesn't mean it led to the death of your parents. A war killed them Abby, not the fact that you are a Timekeeper, and not the fact that you were different from them."
"Phillip, I can't take this!" I screamed, and then I fell to the floor. "I wasn't ready to lose them. I need them. They were supposed to be at my wedding—our wedding. They were supposed to be grandparents. They can't be any of that anymore. What if it was me? If I had stayed in the shelter like they said maybe something would have turned out differently."
Phillip knelt down in front of me and pulled me into his arms. I let him hold me. I felt helpless and lost.
"You did nothing wrong," Phillip told me. "Do not think you could have done anything differently. You'll destroy yourself inside if you think like that."
"I can't do this anymore. This is all too much. My parents are gone, I've lost my best friend, my father hates me, and I have some maniac chasing after me. Why is this all happening? Why now? Is that what I get for trying to discover who I really am? Is this the punishment I deserve?"
"Listen to me Abby, sometimes life is hard and there are times that are worse than others. You will get through this. I know you will. I think all of this happening is a way for you to find yourself. It's a journey. It may not be a good journey, but it is a journey either way."
Knowing someone else is right is the hardest thing to accept. I knew Phillip was right. I knew I was at a time in my life where I had to find out who I really was. I was growing up and I had to accept that.
"Out of everything that has happened so far," Phillip continued, "what is the one thing that has kept you going?"
"My mother," I whispered, "my biological mother."
"Why?"
"She saved me. If it hadn't been for her I may not have met you. I would never have met my parents. She gave me this life. I owe it to her to find out the answers to the secrets that died with her."
Phillip took my face into his hands and held it gently. I looked up into his eyes and he spoke softly.
"So, keep going."
CHAPTER NINETEEN
The rain pounded against the windows of Phillip's flat. I stood in the bathroom—my reflection in the mirror before me. I had put my hair up into a bun and wore a simple black dress. I did not use anything on my face today. I looked different from the person I had been only a few months ago, but that is what death can do to a person. It changes you, whether you like it or not, whether you accept it or not.
I heard a knock and turned to see Phillip in the doorway of the bathroom. He was dressed in a black suit with a tie and his expression was somber.
"Are you ready?" he asked quietly.
"I don't think I'll ever be ready," I responded.
I walked past him into the bedroom and grabbed my black walking coat that was lying on his bed. He took it from me and put it on around me. I focused my attention on the pouring rain outside the bedroom window. A part of me cursed the rain—it shouldn't be raining, today of all days. But then a part of me embraced the rain. A shower amongst the city held a certain beauty that could not be captured or contained—it was only there and then it was gone. A roll of thunder broke my concentration and I turned to look at Phillip.
"Let's go.”
The city of London was a flooding mess. It had been raining since Phillip and I had returned early yesterday afternoon. The streets were beginning to flood over and even though I had thought the rain was beautiful, I now cursed it. Today was supposed to be a sad day already, but the rain only magnified that frustration and anger inside me. I hated the war, I hated everything about it. It had taken away the parents I had loved—it had taken away the house I had grown up in. I felt selfish though, because I wasn't the only one suffering from the war.
Phillip pulled the car over at St. Patrick's church in Soho Square. Phillip got out first and opened an umbrella and then ran around to my side. I stepped out under the protection of the umbrella and we made our way into the church. There were more people here than I thought there would be. I looked around for Bridget, but I did not see her. A feeling of anger shot through me. I figured the majority of these people had worked with my father when he had been well, and I saw some of my mother's friends. Several people came up to me and hugged me and told me how sorry they were. I returned the hug and tried to smile, but it was difficult.
I saw Phillip's mother and grandmother sitting up front already. His father was not there. Phillip and I sat down next to them. I felt Phillip take my hand in his. I sat there and let myself take everything in.
"Would you like to see your parents?"
I looked over and saw the priest standing in front of me. I nodded and Phillip and I walked to the back of the chu
rch where my parents' caskets were. My heart pounded as I made my way toward them. They both looked peaceful. My father looked healthier than he had been when I had last seen him alive; his head bruise had been completely covered up by makeup, making it look as if it had never been there. My mother looked like she had whenever she would dress herself up for a party in her best dress.
I turned my face away and Phillip led me back to our seat.
I looked up as someone entered the row of our seats and saw Ian. He was wearing black slacks and a black button-down shirt. He smiled at me and sat down next to me.
"I'm really sorry," he whispered.
"Thank you.”
It comforted me that he had come, even if Mathias probably wouldn't.
The funeral began, as well as the tears.
The burial took place immediately following the funeral mass. We followed the hearse in Phillip's car to the Cemetery of London where my parents were going to be buried. They had chosen their plots several years ago next to those of my father's parents. My mother's parents were buried in Scotland, so London had seemed the best idea for them.
Several minutes later, Phillip and I, along with many others, stood around the coffins. The priest began to say the final words before the caskets would be lowered into their graves. The rain had stopped during the mass, but just as the caskets were being lowered, it began again. Phillip opened an umbrella he had brought with him. Everyone quickly walked ahead and threw some dirt into each of the graves. As I did this, it all began to feel final. I looked below at the coffins of my parents once more, and then turned away.
I had said goodbye to Ian, and Phillip and I were walking away from the gathering of people.
"It was a nice funeral," Phillip said. "Your parents would be grateful."
I didn't respond to his comment. I simply nodded my head. My thoughts were racing over the last few days. As they did I remembered my last meeting with Mathias and how horrid he had been. I remembered the vision he had had and—
Lighting clapped as I remembered. Mathias had had a vision, something so horrible he wouldn't tell me. He would have told me if it had been nothing, but it had been something.
"He knew," I said aloud.
"Who knew what?" Phillip asked me.
"Mathias had a vision of the future. Before I left, on the night my parents died. He wouldn't tell me what it was. It was this. It was all this, Phillip. He knew they were going to die."
I felt Phillip's hand on my shoulder.
"Abby," he whispered.
I shrugged his hand off and turned around to face him, stepping out into the rain as I did.
"No, Phillip. Mathias knew what was going to happen and he wouldn't tell me." I felt the rain pour onto my face. My hair began to get drenched and I could feel the bun unraveling.
"Does it really matter?" Phillip asked. "What could you have done?"
"Of course, it matters!"
Lightning clapped again, and this time I could have sworn the ground rumbled as well.
"Of course, it matters Phillip," I continued, "He isn't even here. He's my father, he should have come. I hate him."
"Don't say that. Hate isn't something that is good. Hate is what led to your parents' deaths."
"I don't care. I hate him."
"This war is hate, Abby. This war started because one man used hate as a tool. He used hate to fuel people. Hate is ugly. It is horrid. Please, do not hate anyone."
"I'm sorry." The tears were coming again. "I just—I just can't do this."
My body was drenched in the rain now. My hair had come completely undone and was wet and sticking against my neck. Phillip looked like he was going to say something further, but I noticed his attention was drawn to something behind me.
I turned around, startled. A figure in a black raincoat was making its way toward us. The hood on the raincoat was pulled up, concealing the person's face behind it. The person then lifted their head, and I saw her face.
Lightning clapped again as Bessie looked up at me.
"Hello, Abigail," she said in her soft, almost childish voice.
"Bessie.”
"You two know each other?" Phillip asked.
"Phillip, this is Bessie," I said. “She is an old friend of my mother’s.” I hesitated and then added, "My biological mother. Bessie, this is my fiancée, Phillip."
"It is a pleasure to meet you Phillip," Bessie responded. She then directed her attention back to me. "Abigail, I read what happened in the paper and noticed your last name and realized your parents had been killed. I'm so sorry."
For the first time in days, a small smile crept onto my face. This woman had come to honor the memory of my parents, something Mathias, who knew my parent's death would occur, had not done.
"Thank you for coming, Bessie. It really means a lot to me that you did."
"Abigail," Phillip said, "you are soaking wet."
I realized this, but did not respond to him.
"Abigail," Bessie said, "I was hoping we could talk about some things. I had hoped you would come to see me since our last meeting, but obviously great troubles have found you. I hope that by talking with you, we can work through some things. Has Mathias been appearing very off-centered and different lately?"
I nodded at these words immediately. His refusal to tell me what he had seen, his unkind words to me, and his anger that was out of control. Bessie knew what Mathias was capable of.
"Abigail, I think it would be best if we talked," Bessie said again. "Specifically, about Mathias."
"I think so too.”
I felt Phillip's hand on my shoulder.
"We should go," he said. "There's a small reception in the church hall."
"I need to talk to Bessie," I said.
"Abby, your parents only just died. Don’t you think you should give yourself some time off from all of this?"
"Phillip, please," I said again.
Bessie spoke up. "Abigail, Phillip is right. You still need some time. I just wanted to make sure you knew that I was here for you. You know where to find me."
After that, Bessie retreated with her head once again bowed and walked away into the pouring rain.
"Please, don't do this."
Phillip held the steering wheel tightly. He wouldn't look at me. He only looked straight ahead.
"He's dangerous," I said. "He has been cold to me, to you. I don't trust him. I am not going to continue this relationship."
"That's fine!" Phillip shouted.
"How is it fine? An hour ago, you were upset at me for being hateful."
"I don't like the word, Abby," Phillip said. "I never have, but I do not like it even more because of this war. I fear every day that something is going to happen to you. I'm sorry for your parents, I miss them. I really do. But if something happened to you, I couldn't take it. But hate, hate is what is fueling all of this, like I said. I fear that hate is going to lead me to serve in the war. I will serve if I'm called. You don't realize how lucky we are that I haven't been called. I will go. I will go and help my country. But if I go, then I'm going to send you somewhere safe, because I need to know you are safe. But if you are going to end this relationship with your father, please do it in a way that isn't hateful. Just end it. Explain your reasons and move on. I don't want to keep going over this again and again."
"Okay," I said. I wasn't sure what else to say. I felt like he didn't give me enough credit sometimes, but I also understood what he meant. I didn't want to hate, but it felt like I should. I didn't know what to feel. I opened the car door and stepped out into the rain. We were at Big Ben. I left Phillip in the car and quickly ran inside. I hadn't grabbed the umbrella and the rain drenched me.
I took the familiar way to the underground Headquarters. Thunder clapped as the lift took me down. The room below slowly came into view and I was once again facing the hallway that would lead me to him.
Mathias must have heard the lift coming because he was standing at the end of the hallway, waiting f
or me. I didn't see Ian, and assumed he had not made it back yet. I walked slowly, but then picked up my speed as I thought about how angry I was. I tried to remember what Phillip said, but hot, burning tears fell down my cheeks. He knew. He had seen it happen. He saw them die. The idea returned to my mind that maybe Mathias had been responsible for Elisabeth’s death. It was all I thought about. It was the thought that returned so frequently.
"Abigail," Mathias finally spoke, "I am truly sorry."
"You saw it. You saw it happen. Why didn't you tell me?"
"I couldn't tell you," Mathias said quietly, "you would not have understood. It was not your test to undertake. Time will test you, but it will do it through you, not through me. Time tested me and I passed the test."
I felt sickened.
"You passed the test?" I wanted to slap him. "How can you call it that? They were my parents! They loved me! They raised me! They aren't the questions on some test paper, they are people! They are people who died trying to keep me safe! How dare you degrade them to such a term!"
"I'm sorry. I should not have said that. Please calm down and we can discuss this. Please."
"I didn't come to discuss anything Mathias. I came to say goodbye."
"What?"
"I'm ending this. I'm sorry, but I don't trust you. I can't."
Mathias shook his head.
"Please, don't do this. I need you. Please."
Where had I heard that before? No. You don't trust him. That was right, I didn't trust him.
"I'm done. I cannot stay here knowing what I know. It may have been a test for you, but for me it's life. I have already seen enough here with the murder at the ball and all these notes and your cold and unfriendly attitude toward me. I don't need it anymore. It isn't healthy."
"Abigail, I have lived by myself for nineteen years. I rarely go out into the world anymore. I'm not good at being sociable."
"I don't think you ever were."
"Please, I beg of you, give me another chance."