The Christmas Eve Daughter - A Time Travel Novel: The Sequel to The Christmas Eve Letter

by Elyse Douglas

  “Maggie…I want you to listen and not talk. Please don’t say a word until after I have told you the whole story, the entire truth from beginning to end. I’ll explain everything, but you must promise me that you will not utter a word. Do you promise?”

  Maggie sat up rigid, her eyes filled with apprehension. “You and Eve are married, aren’t you?”

  “Yes, Maggie, but you must promise me now that you will sit still and silent while I tell you my story. Will you do that?”

  Maggie stared at him long and hard. “Yes…”

  “All right, then. I’ll start from the beginning. I’ll start from 1885.”

  About forty-five minutes later, Patrick had his hands crossed on the table, gazing into his daughter’s fathomless eyes.

  “So you see, Maggie, I am truly your father. And that’s why I had to come back and save your life.”

  Maggie stared at him for long, awkward minutes with a troubled, entranced expression.

  Patrick waited, patiently, pulse racing.

  Maggie felt displaced, dizzy and a little crazy. Inside her soul was a frayed wire, loose and dangerous. She struggled to settle the thoughts and emotions that swarmed in her, threatening to detonate a wild outburst of rage and laughter. To her surprise, she contained them—held them in—trapped and squeezed the madness tightly, as within a fist. But with that fist, she wanted to strike something or somebody. She wanted to punch this man who sat before her in the gut, and call him ugly names, and pretty names and aching names—names that had no letters, only stinging, tearing emotion.

  Finally, without a word, she shot up. After a long, somber and painful silence, her eyes boring a hole into Patrick, she pivoted and left the club car, leaving him alone to hear the echo of his impossible words hanging in the air.

  CHAPTER 39

  On Wednesday morning, December 16th, the train huffed into the Coldwater Junction station and squealed to a stop in clouds of steam. Eve paced the narrow platform, anxious to catch a glimpse of Patrick, while Logan stood by, nervous and watchful.

  The sky was a sea of rich blue, the sun glistening on snow-heavy green pines.

  Maggie emerged first, stepping down to the platform, then Duncan and finally Patrick, all three looking weary and worn.

  Eve went to Patrick in a rush. His eyes sparkled when he saw her, and he gathered her up into his arms with a broad grin and a bear hug. Maggie, Duncan and Logan looked on, Maggie sullen, Duncan remote, and Logan curious.

  When they broke the embrace, Eve turned to Maggie with a spirited smile and warm greeting, noticing her cool welcome and blank stare. Eve ignored it and turned to Duncan, beaming.

  “I’m so happy to see you again, Duncan. I’m so glad you’re safe.”

  To her surprise, he took her hand in a noble manner, bowed and kissed it.

  “Thank you, Mrs. Gantly, for saving my life.”

  Patrick spoke up. “And he saved mine, Eve,” Patrick said, laying a gentle hand on Duncan’s shoulder.

  Eve stepped back. “Well, I am looking forward to hearing this story.”

  “There is a lot to tell,” Patrick said, looking toward Maggie, who refused to meet his eyes.

  Logan drifted over, and Eve introduced them all. Logan was comfortably outgoing, much more so than when Eve had first met him. She believed it had to do with Logan opening up to her about his wife and the lantern. It had helped to change and soften him; it had allowed them to bond in a small way. And although he didn’t verbalize it, Eve sensed that Logan held out some meager hope that when she returned to the future, she might try to find his wife Kady.

  Once everyone was inside the sleigh, and the bags were tied up behind the back seat, Logan climbed in, shook the reins, and they were off, Logan driving, Eve and Patrick in the front, and Maggie and Duncan in back.

  The snowy landscape stretched out in smooth, undulating blankets of white, broken by tall groves of pine and hardwood trees. Thick, gray clouds were piling up on the horizon, revealing patches of blue sky. Eve spotted three deer loping off into the trees.

  As Maggie took it all in, she fell in love with the quiet, spiritual land, with its bleak sublimity. The power of its desolate beauty helped soothe the storm that was still raging in her soul. It seemed a promised land to her, a place of peace and refuge. A place to renew herself, her body and spirit.

  Now that Big Jim was dead, and she’d left New York and her theatrical career behind, what awaited her in this grandeur of land, where everything seemed magnified and blessed? What would she do here? Where would she go? And what about this man who claimed to be her father? How ridiculous, absurd, and yet exciting.

  As Patrick had told his remarkable story, she’d watched him closely and seen the truth, the pain and the regret in his eyes. She’d also felt the goodness in his heart, and a warm and timeless connection to him—something she now realized she’d felt at their very first meeting.

  Whoever Patrick was, and whatever time and place he’d come from, Maggie couldn’t deny that he had saved her life. Patrick had saved her from Big Jim, whose rage and jealousy would one day have been ignited by a word, a rumor, a flirtation, or by her attempting another escape. When Patrick told her that unless she fled New York, Big Jim would kill her on Christmas Eve, she didn’t doubt him. But what was she going to do now?

  Duncan sat slumped, lost in his own miserable thoughts. He could not understand most of what had had happened to him. He had shot a man and killed another. They were bad men, yes, but as he reran the whole nightmare, it seemed as though it had been an imagined thing; an article he’d read in the newspaper; a dark play he’d seen in a New York theatre.

  Surely, he didn’t pull the trigger and shoot Big Jim in the head? And it had been the luckiest of shots. Duncan had only fired the revolver a few times at a shooting range on the Lower East Side. He was not a good shot, or an accurate one.

  But if killing Big Jim seemed only a wild theatrical dream, then losing Irene was a real ache that cut him like a knife. Irene was not a dream. She was his own true love, and he had thought he was hers. She had told him many times, hadn’t she? Hadn’t she said they’d run off together and be the happiest of couples on this Earth?

  Was she really so childish, materialistic and vacuous that she would leave him over money? Didn’t love exalt all things, beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things?

  He had believed in their love with his whole heart, and he had believed Irene’s true nature was mature, lofty and spiritual, not so tethered to the silly and mundane fear of losing all her family money. Duncan lowered his head and shut his eyes against the start of hot tears. How would he ever understand any woman, if he couldn’t begin to comprehend his one true love, Irene Casterbury?

  In the front seat, Eve leaned toward Patrick’s ear and whispered.

  “Did you tell Maggie everything?”

  He nodded.

  “She doesn’t look happy.”

  “No. She’s hardly said more than two words to me since then. She wouldn’t join me in the café car for breakfast.”

  Eve wrapped her arm in his and pulled him close. “Detective Gantly, I have missed you. I don’t like sleeping alone.”

  He patted her hand and, as his warm eyes came to hers, he whispered, “As my old Da used to say, ‘A man without a spirited woman in his bed will never know the blessing of a good night’s sleep.’”

  Eve looked at him doubtfully. “Did your Da say that or did you just make it up?”

  Patrick stared coyly. “Who cares who said it, Mrs. Gantly, if the verse is true?”

  A slow, naughty smile creased Eve’s lips and she whispered, “I’m feeling rather spirited right now.”

  Patrick winked. “We’ll soon be home, my love. That is, if you have the lantern.”

  Eve turned from his gaze.

  “Eve? Do you have the lantern?”

  “…That would be a yes and a no.”

  Patrick scratched his head, blinking from sudd
en anxiety. “Well, all I can say, Mrs. Gantly, is that I hope the long road out will be the shortest road home.”

  “I’ll explain everything when we have some privacy,” Eve said. “And then I want to hear what happened to all of you back in New York.”

  Inside the cabin, Logan graciously offered Eve and Patrick his upstairs bedroom, Maggie the downstairs bedroom, and Duncan the bed in the garage, complete with a small stone fireplace. Logan insisted that he would be comfortable on the couch near the fire.

  After everyone had settled in, Patrick and Eve closed themselves in their room. While Eve sat on the bed, Patrick paced and brought her up to date on everything that had happened. He reenacted the fight and flight from New York, as well describing his, and Maggie’s, herculean effort to free the car from its snow trap.

  Eve listened silently, her eyes fastened to him, turning sad when he told her Irene had returned to New York. He concluded his debriefing with an account of his talk with Maggie in the café car. Afterward, Patrick stopped pacing and Eve stood up. A moan of wind rounded the house.

  Eve wrapped Patrick with her arms, pulling him in close. They rocked gently for a time, and Patrick dropped a kiss on her hair, as he often did. The gesture warmed and comforted her, making her very homesick for their sweet life way out there somewhere in 2018.

  “I want to go home now, Patrick. Can we?”

  He eased her back to face him, and she smiled up into his lovely eyes.

  “What about the lantern, Eve? You said something about yes and no.”

  Eve’s smiled faded. “It’s been damaged. The glass panes are broken, and the burner is all bashed up.”

  “How? What happened?”

  “It’s a long story. I’ll condense it. Ann is Logan’s mother. Ann got the lantern from Jacob Jackson, and she gave it to Logan. His wife lit the lantern one night.”

  Patrick stiffened, cocking his head to the right, eyes widening. “And…?”

  “She disappeared and has never been heard from again. When Ann told Logan about the lantern, they thought it would be their secret, but Logan’s wife must have overheard the story.”

  Patrick’s face dropped into deep concern. “A secret is not a secret if it is known by three people. The lantern can be fixed, can’t it? I’m sure I can get it to work.”

  “Logan took it to his tool shed. He said he’d repair it.”

  “Logan? Do you trust him?”

  “Yes…” she said, and then her voice dropped into doubt. “Yes, I think so.”

  “Eve, do you think he wants to use the thing to go find his wife?”

  “No, we talked about that, and I told him there is no way to know where or to what time she landed in. Besides, he’s joined the Canadian army. He’s leaving in a few days.”

  “To fight in that terrible first world war?”

  “Yes…”

  “Did you try to talk him out of it? He won’t survive it, Eve. You know how many men died in that hell of a war.”

  “No, I didn’t try to talk him out of it. I didn’t know what to say. I simply said that I know the war will last a long time. He said he didn’t care. He just kept saying that he was going to do his bit. That he had to, for his own self-respect.”

  “Should I go talk to him then?” Patrick asked.

  “I think you should talk to Maggie. I assume you have asked her to return to 2018 with us?”

  Patrick’s eyes dropped to the floor. “Not yet.”

  “You want her to return with us, don’t you?”

  He looked up. “Of course, Eve, but she has a strong will and I can’t read her—what she thinks or how she feels.”

  “Okay then, so you two need to go off together and talk it all out. Get to know each other, Patrick. We’ve got to know what she wants to do.”

  Minutes later, Patrick descended the stairs, went to Maggie’s room and knocked on the door.

  “Who is it?” she called.

  “It’s Patrick.”

  The door opened, and Maggie appeared, wearing a woman’s bathrobe Logan had left in the closet. She stood barefoot, with a defiant lift of her chin, staring at Patrick in a challenge. “What do you want?”

  “Logan said I can borrow the sleigh and go for a ride. Will you come with me?”

  “Why? Are you going to give me more fatherly advice? Anyway, I was about to take a bath. Do you know there is an honest-to-goodness bathtub in this bathroom? Logan told me his wife refused to marry him unless she had a bathtub. What do you think about that, father?”

  Patrick ignored the snide comment. “I just want to talk to you, Maggie. I want us to spend some time together, get to know each other. Will you please take a ride with me?”

  Her eyes held him for a time, as if seeking answers, and then they drifted away toward the knotty pine walls. She unconsciously touched the nape of her neck as she composed the right words.

  “How old are you?”

  “Thirty-six.”

  “Tell me about my mother, Pauline. How did you meet her? Did you love her?”

  “Not here, Maggie. Not now. Let’s take that ride. I will tell you everything you want to know.”

  Maggie hesitated, tapping a foot. “You know, Big Jim’s men could show up at any minute.”

  “I don’t think so, Maggie, and if they do, I’ll deal with it. Now, will you please take that sleigh ride with me? Please?”

  Maggie massaged the back of her neck while she regarded him. “All right…father,” she said, sarcastically. “Why not?”

  CHAPTER 40

  Maggie was wrapped in a warm blanket seated next to her father. As they glided through the snow, the sounds of tingling sleigh bells comforted her, despite her edgy mood. She inhaled several breaths, gradually feeling joyfully alive in the spectacular scenery, her senses arrested by the natural beauty and crisp, clean air.

  It had taken Patrick nearly a half hour to answer all of Maggie’s questions: how he and Pauline had met; why they parted; why he never appeared. He tried to tie up all the loose ends and he watched, pained, as Maggie wept silent tears. He repeated how sick he’d felt when he’d read her obituary, and how she’d been murdered.

  “I had to come back, Maggie. I couldn’t have lived with myself if I hadn’t taken the chance to come back and save your life.”

  Maggie had sat in silence for long minutes, allowing the sun to warm her face. Patrick often shielded his eyes from the glare of the snow as they trotted through a canopy of snow-heavy trees, passing open land and frozen ponds.

  When Maggie finally spoke, her voice was soft, her expression calm. The accusation and bitterness were gone.

  “What I find hard to believe is that Eve risked her life to come back with you.”

  “Yes, well Eve is a unique and special woman. She is a rare gem. I tried to leave her behind, but she wouldn’t hear of it. She said we are married, and we will stick together no matter what happens.”

  Maggie smiled at him. “How lovely that is, Patrick. So, you are a romantic man, aren’t you?”

  Patrick shook the reigns to coax the horse up a slight hill. “I’m not innately so. I think Eve has made me so.”

  “You’re lucky, you know. Everyone wants to find that blessed kind of love you and Eve have.”

  “In the future they call us soulmates,” Patrick said.

  Maggie pondered that. “Soulmates? Oh, I like that. Yes, I like that very much. I must use it if I’m ever lucky enough to find my soulmate.”

  Patrick glanced over with a loving smile. “You will, Maggie. I’m sure of it. Now that your dark past is behind you, you are free to cast your life in an entirely different and happier direction.”

  Maggie nodded. Her gaze was direct and speculative. “What I find utterly fascinating is that you wouldn’t have met Eve if she hadn’t time traveled to 1885.”

  “Yes, we often talk about that, but the conversation becomes a dead-end street, usually ending with the realization that the world is a much more mysterious and complex plac
e than either of us could have ever imagined.”

  “What is it really like in the future, in 2018? Are people happier? Healthier? Prettier? Richer? They must be.”

  “Just like in any time, Maggie, some people are all those things, but many are not. There are so many fast things in the future, Maggie. So many little gadgets, or electronic devices they call them, and they constantly try to lure you away from yourself, distracting you and, frankly, at times irritating you.”

  Patrick indicated toward the quiet winter scene unraveling before them. “It is difficult to find this kind of peaceful silence in the future, Maggie. Everything in that time is so fast and impatient. Air machines zip through the skies at incredible speeds and cars whiz by faster than you can imagine, and nearly every place of business you enter has this loud and thumping music playing. I feel like those people are at war with silence. They want noise and distraction every minute of every day.”

  “Then you don’t like it?”

  “Like with most things, Maggie, the answer is a yes and a no. I will be honest with you, but please don’t tell Eve. I sometimes long for my own time, back in 1885. Sometimes, I feel a bit lost and out of place. Well, let’s face it. I am, at heart, body and soul, a 19th-century man who finds himself on an entirely new planet. But don’t misunderstand me. There are many good and kind people in the future—people who work courageously and unselfishly to improve the world, and I believe they are doing so. But let me tell you one remarkable thing: they have the most amazing medicine. They have pills that cure almost everything… any infection or disease.”

  Maggie’s head slipped to one side. “And what of New York, Patrick? What is it like in the future? Do you think I would like it?”

  “Yes, Maggie, you would love it. Despite all the clang and crush of the traffic and the rushing of the crowds, there is a tempting magic to the City, even in the boisterous and flashy Times Square, a Times Square you cannot even imagine.” Patrick became more assertive. “Yes, Maggie, I am sure you will like it. I think you might even take to all of it much more than I and be quite at home there.”