Time and Space Between Us

by Knightley, Diana

  I shoved that box closed and ripped open another one. “Jesus Christ, it’s a goddam travesty. I’m off fighting an evil overlord in the 18th century and my spices are thrown in with my hand towels. Not kitchen towels, freaking hand towels. Oh wait, what the hell is this?” I pulled up a candle stick. “Oh my god. A candlestick. With spices and hand towels. What the fuck were the packers doing, grabbing one thing from each room?”

  And then I yelled again, “Arrrrghhhh!” as loud as I could. “It was my house. My stuff. My family. My husband—” and then I sat in the middle of a storage unit in Florida and cried. My tears surpassed the travesty of poorly packed boxes and grief about my poorly planned life — where was Magnus? Was he alive?

  I hadn’t allowed myself to really think yet. I had been trying to piece together my life, I hadn’t faced the reality — my husband might not have made it.

  He might have thrown his life away to save mine.

  I had watched a lot of movies in my day and the guy that stays behind so the others can flee? He was sacrificing himself.

  And how was I to deal with that without knowing? Just waiting? Would it be easier to tell myself he was gone forever? Would anything ever be easy again?

  No, never.

  Because I was a widow. By marrying someone from another century I had become a widow as soon as I spoke the vows. It was clear. Every moment with him was borrowed time, he was right about that. Had been right about that.

  Whenever I closed my eyes I saw him fighting, bellowing, roaring in rage trying to kill his captors — he couldn’t live through that.

  And I couldn’t live with the memory.

  I needed to change it, to try to replace it with a better one.

  His lips on my shoulder. “You are a surprise Madame Campbell.”

  Or his wrist tied to mine, his hands shaking, his voice rumbling above my bowed head, “I take thee Kaitlyn Sheffield. . . ”

  Or his chest, the feel of it under my palms telling me that his feelings for me — that I was a brutal love.

  He had loved me so much and he had shown me. I might have been the luckiest person in the world for that. In all of time.

  I wiped the tears from my eyes. Becoming a widow without knowing what became of your husband would be desperately hard.

  It would require a list. I dug through my bag for a pen and wrote on the closest box:

  One, accept the truth.

  Two, pull on your big girl panties.

  Three, act like a grown up.

  Four, take care of the people around you.

  Five, always check the sky.

  I looked at the list for a few moments and then wrote:

  Six, if you’re checking the sky, go back through the list again.

  I spent the next hour digging through the pile attempting to find enough of my things to be comfortable tonight alone in my house. I narrowed it down to three of the top boxes and stuffed them in the trunk of my Mustang. At the grocery store I bought three tubs of ice cream, two of my favorite flavors, plus a vanilla just to have, like a memorial ice cream.

  I cried a bit in the freezer section of the grocery store.

  Then, because I didn’t have the right kitchen stuff, I went through the McDonald’s drive-thru for dinner.

  Chapter 33

  My house, even with my paltry three boxes of stuff was cold and dark and empty. I put a box down in the living room and went down for another and then another. Then, last, the groceries. I placed the ice cream on a barren shelf in the freezer and then sat at the counter island in front of my bags of dinner. I unwrapped a burger and took a big bite, chewed it, and then another. The paper wrapping echoed. My chewing filled my head. My thoughts raced around and around in circles, keeping all else away. Like an echo. It reminded me of being back in time when my body echoed inside myself.

  For some reason I couldn’t stop thinking about Ewan’s arm across my throat as I struggled to breathe, and then his throat, cut, his body slumped to the ground. His face beaten by my husband and — I dropped my head to the cold marble counter of the kitchen island, pressed, my eyes clamped, close to hyperventilating, icy cold fear crawling up my spine — I heard a noise.

  The house was lit up brightly. I couldn’t see outside at all. I slunk to the light switch and dimmed the interior so I could see the empty deck. Nothing.

  Then I heard another noise, this one from inside the house. Someone was upstairs.

  My heart raced. I crept along the wall to the kitchen drawer that used to have knives and pulled it open. Empty.

  I backed up into the short hall to the laundry room. I might find something to use as a weapon, a can of something, or — on the counter was a heavy glass dish full of potpourri, a common scent, dubbed ‘the beach’. It didn’t smell like a beach at all, but I thought it was awesome.

  I dumped the potpourri on the floor and held the bowl back ready to swing. I watched the stairs for whoever was coming down.

  I stayed like that quietly waiting, terrified, for what seemed like hours. The noise happened again, it sounded like footsteps.

  And then without a doubt, a door opening.

  I had no phone. If I ran, I could get to the door and make a break for it. I walked stealthily, around the edge of the kitchen toward the front door, still holding the glass dish like a weapon. Feet descended the steps — “Who is it, who’s there?” — woolen skirts — I was staring dumbfounded at my mother-in-law, her cold icy gaze glaring at me from the stairs.

  “Kaitlyn Campbell, I would like a word.”

  “Jesus, Lady Mairead, how did you—? Where did you—?”

  “I have a key. Tis my fortune that has paid for this…” She looked around distastefully. “I arrived earlier today. I am still in agony, though doing better, thank ye.”

  “Oh.” I said dumbly. And put the glass dish back on the counter. My footsteps crunched across the kitchen floor through the spilled potpourri. “Um, why are you—where is Magnus, is he okay?”

  She dismissed my question with a wave of her hand. “I have come tae have a word with ye, daughter.” Her words were like ice and frankly kind of scary.

  My heart was still beating in my ears.

  “Magnus is gone, you will nae see him again.” She ran a hand down the front of her bodice and skirt as if brushing off the bad news.

  “Oh my god, is he — oh my god — I don’t—“ I grabbed hold of the counter to steady myself.

  She walked down the steps to me. “You have done your work most effectively. Taking my fortune, ridding yourself of Magnus, stealing my vessel. A most effective theft, I am impressed at your brazenness.”

  “That’s not — I love Magnus.” I put my hand over my mouth. My limbs were shaking.

  “Och, aye, love. Interesting concept, but ye, my dear — Signed. A. Contract.” She slammed the handwritten contract I signed last summer down on the counter, right between my half-eaten Big Mac and a cardboard container with all my fries, now cold. My wedding contract.

  “I will remind ye that the contract was with me and when you signed it I made myself clear. You would. Keep. Magnus. Here.”

  I chewed my lip.

  “Was that nae my intent? When I told ye tae marry Magnus, was that nae what I said — for ye tae keep him here?” Her voice was loud and dangerous sounding.

  I nodded.

  “Answer me!”

  “Yes.”

  She set her jaw. “Explain tae me what my intent was.” She eyed me, her brow furrowed, her glare intense.

  I looked away. “For me to keep Magnus here, to give him a reason to stay, to protect him.”

  “Tae protect him.” Her eyes were so hard and cruel that I couldn’t raise mine to meet them.

  “I have been in hiding, and during that time I have found that my son has returned tae Scotland twice. Twice! My husband beat him. Has imprisoned him.”

  “I’m sorry. I tried to keep him here, but he had reasons—“

  She scoffed, malevolently. “Reasons
. And now ye speak tae me of love. You came tae my time and now my nephew Ewan is dead. My son Sean is imprisoned. My brother is raising an army against my husband. There will be a war.” She banged a hand down on the wedding contract. “Explain how your marriage tae my son turned out so terribly for me?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Och, aye, you don’t know.” She leveled her gaze.

  “Is Magnus dead?”

  “It dinna matter tae ye. Get used tae the fact that ye and Magnus arna tae be together anymore.”

  “We’re married, in church. You can’t decide that we can’t be together —“ I hated the sound of my voice. I sounded like a petulant child against a pissed off parent and while true, the stakes were so much higher.

  “Magnus Campbell is dead tae ye. He has been dead now for three hundred years. You have married a ghost, and if ye wants tae continue on pretending tae be married tae a ghost then tis nae matter tae me. You shall do as ye wish. But know this, Kaitlyn Campbell, ye winna see him again.”

  “I — I don’t… please, this is… is he alive in the 18th century? If I could just see him, I could make this better. I’ll be better at it.”

  “Give me the vessel ye stole from Magnus.” She held out her palm.

  I shook my head. “No, you can’t have it. He gave it to me, and I might—“

  “You have one option that ye live through. And that is tae give me the vessel. I have three weapons on my person as we speak, and I am capable of using all of them. I assume ye are unarmed, else ye winna have been yielding a fancy glass bowl earlier.”

  My eyes flitted to the door and in one move she had my arm yanked behind my back and the sharp point of a knife at my throat. I tried to draw away, but she held me firm. “I want the vessel. Now.” Her breath was hot and smelly, putrid, like death, on my cheek. Tears rolled down my face. “Please don’t take it, it’s the only way I can get to him if I need to.”

  “Exactly.” Her knife pressed at my pulse on my neck.

  “It’s in my bag.”

  She released me, shoving me against a barstool.

  I dug through my purse for the vessel and placed it in her palm. “Magnus gave it to me. He made me take it. He saved my life.”

  “Yes, a word of advice, cherish that memory. I have many memories of lost loves performing acts of chivalry for me. You will need something tae keep ye company as ye suffer long nights of widowhood. Or perhaps ye will get lucky and have a second marriage or a third. They are often far more complicated, but have their own merits. Mine have been verra useful tae me through the years. Now nae so much. But tis the penalty of being a woman, ye must handle the men of your life.”

  “You haven’t told me if he’s alive. I need to know — I…”

  She dropped the vessel into the sporran-like bag she wore at her waist. “You daena need tae know anything about him. You have forfeited your claim.“

  “If he is alive he’s going to come for me. You won’t be able to stop him.”

  She crossed to the sliding doors and opened them. “He has no way to get to you, and you have no way to get to him.” She stately walked across the deck and down the boardwalk.

  “Stop, please!”

  I would never ever see him. I would never know. I would never find out.

  I ran after her, through the open sliding door, across the deck, and down the boardwalk. “Lady Mairead, please tell me what happened to Magnus. I don’t understand. I know you’re upset, but I love him. I want to protect him. If he’s alive, please let me see him.”

  She stopped mid walk and stood for a half moment, then she turned fast and charged me with a knife. It was raised and aimed for my heart.

  When I cowered she bore over me with her teeth bared. “You had a job, and ye dinna perform your duties.”

  She stepped forward, within striking distance, forcing me to step back, concentrating my gaze on the raised knife point.

  “But because I am kind, I will spare your life. Tis as my late son, Magnus, would have wished, and it does me nae harm tae allow ye tae live in this future.” She lowered the knife. “Tis easy tae allow ye tae live, because ye mean nothing.”

  She turned and walked down the boardwalk to the beach, her feet echoing, thud, thud, thud. It was about seven pm; the sky had gone dark already. The January winds whipped the sea grass, my hair, Lady Mairead’s skirts.

  I crumpled on the handrail. “Please!” But my words were whisked away behind me

  As soon as Lady Mairead’s feet hit the sand, she began reciting numbers. Clouds rose to the heavens, coming from the north. A wind roared like a locomotive and lightning arced from the front edge. Lady Mairead faced the storm and with a boom and a flash of light she was gone.

  I collapsed to the boardwalk and sobbed.

  Chapter 34

  I called Hayley, clammy, dizzy, and about to totally freak out.

  “Hey babe how you—“

  “Hayley, I’m freaking out, oh my god–“ I burst into tears.

  “Oh sweetie, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry this is happening.”

  “Lady Mairead just came. She took the vessel thingy, and I’m a widow. Magnus is gone and I don’t know what to do with it…”

  “Oh Katie, I’m — look, I’m at this thing. I’m at dinner with Michael’s parents, but I’ll come as soon as it’s over. I’ll stay the night. Can you hold on that long?”

  I nodded, tears streaming down my face.

  “Can you?”

  “I don’t know…”

  “Okay, good enough. I’m on my way.”

  She hung up and it was darkness and sadness but at least I knew someone was coming.

  Chapter 35

  Hayley bustled in and took over the mood. She opened a twelve pack on the counter and shoved beers into the fridge. “What did Lady Mairead do?”

  “She was here, in the house. She threatened me. She took the vessel. She told me Magnus was dead, and I would never see him again.”

  She raised up and looked at me. “Did she say he was dead, or that you’d never see him again. Those are two totally different things.”

  “I don’t know, it was all so confusing, and there was a knife at my throat and—“

  “She held a knife at your throat? What the hell…” She brought two beers to the couch and opened one for me and one for her. She sat quietly for a long moment. “Was she angry or sad?”

  “Angry.”

  “Hmmmmmmm.” She pushed her feet under one end of the blanket, her legs wrapped around mine. “So what do you think she was doing here?”

  I looked at her quizzically. Much like Magnus looked when he was confused by me.

  “I mean, why would she come? You didn’t kill Magnus, her husband did.”

  “She blames me for bringing him there.”

  “He’s a grown ass man, his magical vessel. I blame him for bringing you there. Do you want ice cream? I saw that was the only thing in your freezer.”

  I nodded and she went to the kitchen and asked, “What have you eaten tonight?” She eyed the McDonald’s bags suspiciously.

  “That.”

  “Katie, this is not real food. You lived in Los Angeles, right? Can’t you do better? If you’re depressed and going through time-jumping, I think you’re supposed to watch your nutrition, get lots of vitamins. You could get the freaking plague.”

  “I think salads make me depressed.”

  She looked at me with her hands on her hips. “Are you still wearing the clothes I loaned you last night?”

  I nodded.

  “Okay, so first you’ll take a shower. Because last night’s was just the first shower of many that you need to get the fifth century off you.”

  “Eighteenth century.”

  “It’s literally the same thing, and you know it. It’s not here, is what I’m saying, so you need to get here. That’s what I mean.”

  I said, “Maybe I don’t want to take a shower. Maybe if I take a shower, I’m saying good bye to everything fore
ver. Maybe there’s still some Magnus dust on me and that’s all I have left.”

  Her face grew stern.

  I added, “Maybe, you don’t know.”

  She looked deflated. “I don’t, that’s true — look, are you comfortable? Maybe that’s all you need to do right now; what do I know?”

  She twisted the tops off two more beers, dove into the freezer and pulled out the gallons of chocolate chunk chocolate surprise ice cream. And lifted their lids. She pulled open a drawer. “Where are your utensils?”

  “Everything is in storage.”

  She groaned, pulled open every drawer until she found a lone spoon and fork. She stuck them both into the top of the ice cream. Then she hooked the beers under her arm and balanced the lot of full cartons and bottles to me on the couch.

  “I just don’t get why she would threaten you if he’s dead. When she was talking, was she talking about her son like he was dead, or was she trying to scare you?”

  “I think she was trying to scare me.”

  “Why would she do that if Magnus is dead? She could have just told you that Magnus was dead and told you to give her back the box. But she didn’t, she scared you. Why?”

  “Because she said I would never get to see him again.”

  “See?”

  “You think he’s alive?”

  “I think he’s alive or the conversation with your mother-in-law would have been totally different.”

  “Magnus is alive…”

  “Yep.”

  “But my mother-in-law said I’ll never get to see him again.”

  “Well, Magnus doesn’t seem like the kind of guy who will let a bitch like Lady Mairead stand between him and your sexy ass.”

  I smiled sadly. “He does love me.”

  “Exactly, does, not did, does. He’s alive, girlfriend, this is good news.”

  I ate a big bite of chocolate chunky ice cream with a vein of caramel running through it and let it cool down my insides.

  “God, she is a scary bitch.”

  “You aren’t the first person in the history of time with a scary bitch mother-in-law, but it might be a first to have one that is three hundred years old and can still hold a knife to your throat.”