“Shirlyn.” I pointed. “Are those from a historical collection or are they family pictures?”
“Family photographs, all of them. Cousins, grandparents, great-aunts and uncles. I’ve never gone through them all, but many generations of the family are represented in there.”
“Do you have any pictures of Valcas?”
“Yes, of course. You know my cousin? How interesting. It’s odd now that I think of it. Our cameras only take photographs in black and white. Aunt Sable always sends us colored portraits of her family, though.”
I balked, watching as Shirlyn browsed through shelves of brown leather-bound photo books, oblivious, unconcerned. Her response disturbed me. Did she forget everything I told her from yesterday? The chase, for example? That the whole reason I was here was because of Valcas?
“Who is Sable?” I asked.
“Aunt Sable is Valcas’ mother, of course. She married my father’s younger brother, Uncle Jim. They are very active travelers.”
Apparently she thought I was pretty oblivious too. Romaso grinned at Shirlyn, not necessarily following the conversation but enjoying the sound of her voice and her British pronunciation of “travelers.” Shirlyn returned his smile with a wink.
“Is Valcas an English name?” Valcas Hall just didn’t sound right. The two names didn’t fit together at all.
“I don’t think so. You must understand that his parents are a little strange, Calla. An ordinary old English name probably wouldn’t have suited him anyway—he’s actually quite arrogant.”
I laughed. This was starting to sound like the Valcas I remembered. Weird parents—that made sense.
“Do they, Valcas and his parents, live near here?”
“I should say not! My cousin is growing up in a world of his parents’ own creation, a future world dreamed up by Aunt Sable. Valcas was born there instead of here where he would, or rather should, have belonged.”
“Have you been there, to Valcas’ home?” Wow. Really weird parents.
“No, I can’t say I have. His family visited us here at the estate once. Ah, here’s the album I was looking for.”
Shirlyn, with Romaso and me at her shoulders, began flipping through the album pages. The photographs were so bright, the colors so vivid, that I refrained from touching them for fear that I would reach out too far and find myself on the other side of the camera’s lens. Page after page turned by of reddish-purple landscapes, bright crescent moons and brilliant jewel-toned shapes, all on a background of starless onyx sky.
“I still say there was something wrong with their camera,” explained Shirlyn as she continued turning pages. “The colors are so unnatural. I’ve always wondered whether Aunt Sable added ink to the photographs later.”
“What good little paintings!” exclaimed Romaso, who clearly misunderstood what he was seeing.
Shirlyn pointed out a portrait of her Uncle Jim, who showed a strong resemblance to Edgar. He posed while seated on a high-backed cushioned chair, his hands positioned in front of him atop a walking stick. Jim seemed nice enough.
Next came Sable’s portrait. Straight jet-black hair framed a bronze face. She smiled, her red lips showing bright white teeth. Shirlyn’s model-esque features paled in comparison. Sable was extraordinary. Her magnificent face would have been breathtaking alone without the two gleaming jewels set beneath dark, arched brows. Freshly polished emerald green eyes radiated nobility and perfection.
I blinked and cleared my throat. “Where did Jim meet Sable?”
“Somewhere in his travels,” Shirlyn answered.
“You don’t know where she’s from?”
“No, not really. I don’t think the matter was ever of any significance. Royal blood knows no bounds. Well, anyway, Valcas should be on the next page.”
My chest tightened. I’d learned so much about Valcas already, and I expected that there was a lot more to learn. Maybe Edgar was right. Maybe I had to confront Valcas and everything that made him who he was so that I could really understand him. Maybe then I could find a way to free myself from his pursuit forever.
The tightening in my chest increased as something else dawned in me. I could visit a past version of Valcas, one that existed before the travel glasses. The only thing holding me back was my ignorance of one very important detail, something that I hoped this family album could show me. I needed to know the color of Valcas’ eyes before they were altered by the travel glasses.
Shirlyn turned the page.
“NO…” I groaned.
The photo on the next page was of Valcas, there was no mistake about that. As handsome as always, he resembled his mother with his dark hair, olive complexion and self-assured grin. He stood alone in front of a tower, a dark figure against a white tower against a black backdrop. I couldn’t see his eyes because they were, once again, covered by dark glasses. I sighed. Looking at Valcas without having to run away reminded me just how attractive he was and how nervous I’d been around him back when I thought we were on a date. I felt so stupid.
“Valcas hasn’t changed much,” I thought aloud. “It’s too bad he’s not chasing me under different circumstances.”
Shirlyn looked at me blankly. “Valcas is chasing you? Well, why haven’t you mentioned that?”
Her response set off an alarm in my head. I remembered one of Edgar’s early lectures when he said something about how the past could always be observed and interacted with but not permanently changed. This was because a past version of an individual could only temporarily process new information. Without a daily reminder, anything new introduced into the past would be forgotten. I finally understood what Edgar was talking about.
Shirlyn wasn’t oblivious. She really had no memories of me from the day before. Nobody at the Halls’ estate could remember anyone or anything that wasn’t already a part of their own pasts. I was the only person able to remember because I still existed in the present. Everyone else reacted to whatever situation I placed before them.
No wonder breakfast was so awkward. I must have appeared like a ghost out of nowhere dressed in Shirlyn’s clothes. Young Edgar wasn’t being rude or uncaring when he went off to his workshop. He simply didn’t remember anything I told him about my connection with Valcas. Now I understood why he suggested that Shirlyn show me and Romaso the same harbor where we arrived yesterday. Everyone and everything around me was an illusion. Still, I felt like an intruder.
Shirlyn impatiently twitched her nose as she continued to stare at me. I hadn’t answered her question, but I wasn’t sure what to say. I didn’t want to explain everything to her and Romaso all over again. I’d been so certain that either Young Edgar or Old Edgar would be able to tell me what to do next. I quickly decided that I would stay long enough to learn a little bit more about the Halls, find out the real color of Valcas’ eyes and then travel to a past Valcas as soon as possible. I intended to go there alone. I did not want to drag Shirlyn and Romaso into this mess any more than I already had.
Mona entered the room as I was about to ask Shirlyn whether she knew the color of Valcas’ eyes. The maid hurriedly approached Shirlyn and handed her a slip of paper. “We received a telegram. It is addressed to Calla Winston. Your mother mentioned that you had guests over today.”
Shirlyn read the paper briefly and shrugged.
“I’m Calla,” I volunteered, reaching out for the paper.
Shirlyn nodded and handed me the paper. The typed message was brief, with no indication as to who’d sent it:
Call me. Use the glasses.
I squeezed my backpack. “Excuse me, please.”
Several possibilities flooded my mind as I ran out into the hallway. My heart beat wildly. Edgar? Enta? Valcas? I really hoped it wasn’t Valcas. I found a secluded study that Shirlyn had showed us earlier that day. Fortunately, it was left unlocked. I entered the room and shut the door behind me. Then I slipped on the glasses.
“Hello?” I tried to block out Valcas with my mind, not knowing whether it would do
any good given that I had zero practice with that skill.
The voice that answered was female. “Calla, are you all right?” A gentle face appeared on a white background, peeking out of a blue bonnet.
“Enta! I’m okay. How did you find me? Is Edgar there?”
“Yes, he’s here. He hasn’t been well since Valcas’ visit.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I got your message—I tried to contact Edgar last night, but there was no response and I was afraid Valcas would be in there somewhere and…”
“I’m afraid that I don’t know what message you’re talking about. Where are you?”
“There’s so much to explain. I don’t even know where to start. Can I talk to Edgar?” I shuddered, convinced that Valcas had sent the telegram.
Enta hesitated for a moment. “Yes. You’ll have to speak up so that he can hear you better.”
“Edgar?”
Edgar’s image appeared against the white background. He looked much frailer than I’d last seen him and he seemed to be bent back slightly. I filled in the rest of the picture, imagining that the inventor was propped up on pillows while resting on a bed or couch.
“Calla, where are you?”
“I’m in England.”
“England,” he repeated as if the word itself was a distant memory. “Which part?”
“I’m at the Halls’ estate in Folkestone. Shirlyn’s diary was mixed in with your other journals. I thought this would be the safest place to hide and learn more about Valcas.”
Edgar’s body bolted upward. “Enta! You need to hear this. Come here quickly.”
“Calm down, I’m right here,” a voice called from somewhere in the background. “I’ll put on a pair of glasses too.”
I quickly described my visit to the Halls’ estate and how I’d picked up Romaso along the way. I told them about the family album and my new plan to visit a past version of Valcas. Before either Edgar or Enta could object to my plan, I asked them, “Do either of you know the color of Valcas’ eyes before he started using the travel glasses?”
Edgar and Enta both gasped. Then they avoided my question.
Edgar sadly looked off into the distance, withdrawn. Crap. Not now, Edgar! At least I had some familiarity with the withdrawals that overtook him when he was faced with topics that worried or sadden him. He always ended up looking like he was searching for something that he couldn’t find. There was nothing I could do until he snapped out of it.
Enta’s reaction, however, was a complete shock. She pursed her lips, suddenly appearing very stern, like a mother hen protecting somebody from something. Was she protecting Edgar or Valcas? Whoever it was, I had the sinking feeling that she was trying to protect that person from me.
“What happened after Valcas showed up?” I asked, worried.
“Edgar is very sick, as you can see. Valcas was extremely angry with us for helping you get away.”
The connection ended, leaving me feeling much worse than before.
I WALKED back to the trophy room, confused and on edge. Who would have sent a message asking me to use the glasses to make a call? How did that person know that I was at the Halls’ estate? If it wasn’t Edgar or Enta then it must have been a sick and twisted warning from Valcas. It was as if he was saying that he knew where I was and that he was on his way. Worse yet, Edgar was in bad shape and Enta was being weirdly evasive. I felt a twinge of guilt. Maybe Enta was upset that I’d pulled her and Edgar into all of this.
When I returned to the trophy room I found that Romaso and Shirlyn were no longer there. Figuring that they were called to lunch during my call with Edgar and Enta, I turned back towards the hallway. Then I stopped. I wanted to take another look at Valcas’ family album.
The album lay on the floor. Shirlyn hadn’t bothered to put it back on the shelf. I flipped through its pages, finding only three photos of Valcas, each with him wearing the travel glasses. I wondered whether he’d already been using the travel glasses or if this was some kind of fashion statement. Edgar told me about altering an ordinary pair of sunglasses. Valcas must have used them a lot before they became travel glasses. I closed the album and placed it back on its shelf inside the curio cabinet. Afterward, I nearly ran to where I found Romaso and Shirlyn finishing up their lunch.
“Are you feeling well, Calla?” Shirlyn fussed. “You look so pale. Here, have a sandwich. Then we’ll go outdoors and get some sun.”
I ate the sandwich in three bites and washed it down with sweetened tea that had just barely cooled to room temperature. Then, Shirlyn led Romaso and me out to the grounds behind the main house. The fresh air made me feel a little better. I looked around with anticipation. Dragonflies zigzagged through the fragrant grounds, gathering near fountains and birdbaths. A wall of dark green hedges surrounded what I expected to be the most beautiful garden display I’d ever seen. From where I’d looked out of Shirlyn’s bedroom window that morning, I expected that Edgar’s workshop was on the other side, opposite the garden.
“We can stroll through the gardens some other time,” said Shirlyn. “Right now, I want to take you to my favorite place.”
Romaso lifted her up off of the ground and cradled her in his arms. He would go wherever Shirlyn wanted to go. I looked at him warily, wondering how he remembered Shirlyn.
She obviously recognized him this morning because she traveled to his past during her present. I had no idea how he remembered her, though. She was never really part of his past. I happened to travel to Romaso in Venice on the same day that he last saw Shirlyn during the Halls’ visit to a past Venice, so it sort of made sense that he remembered her yesterday. How did he recognize her today?
From what I learned from Edgar, that would have been impossible unless Shirlyn had been able to introduce something into Romaso’s past to permanently change it. The whole thing seemed to break Edgar’s rule about only being able to observe the past without changing it. I was thoroughly confused.
Romaso set Shirlyn back down again. We walked across a lawn that stretched out to a brook of clear running water. The grass grew taller and the flowers appeared wilder as we approached the brook. Statuesque oak trees bent upward from the water’s edge.
“Is all of this part of your family’s estate?” I asked, impressed.
“It’s all part of the property, but my father instructed the gardeners to leave this area be, to let it grow naturally.”
“So beautiful, Shirlyn!” added Romaso.
Shirlyn stopped at a swing tied to one of the large oaks. “And here we are. This is my favorite place.”
I smiled. If I had to choose a favorite place, it would be with a book either under the trees near Winston Lake or by the still, icy brook at Edgar’s workshop at the woods. This wasn’t so far off. I sat in the warm grass while Romaso attended Shirlyn at the swing. Seeing them so happy together reminded me of something I’d wondered about while reading Shirlyn’s travel journal. I didn’t know how Shirlyn and her family traveled to Venice without the travel glasses. I’d never brought up the subject during Edgar’s lectures and Shirlyn had never mentioned it in her diary.
Curious, I asked, “Shirlyn, how did your family travel to Venice where you first met Romaso?”
“We sailed on my father’s motor yacht.”
“A yacht,” I repeated, slightly taken aback. “How did the yacht transport your entire family to a place that existed hundreds of years earlier?”
“We’re travelers, Calla. That’s how it works.”
“How many different ways are there for travelers to, um, travel?” I asked.
Shirlyn looked up at the sky as she swung higher. “I only know of one way to travel through time and it’s always been on the yacht. We use the autos and motorboats to travel more locally in the present.”
“What’s so special about the yacht, though, that makes it able to travel through time? How does it work?”
“That—I’m not certain.”
“Does Edgar wear any kind of special clothing or acce
ssory while traveling? Anything that makes it so he can get the yacht where he wants it to go?”
Shirlyn giggled as she let Romaso take a turn at the swing. I imagined that, had I attended an in-person high school, the popular girls there would have been a lot like Shirlyn—confident, beautiful and giggly. I never thought I’d be able to have a conversation with that type of person. It wasn’t all that bad. She was surprisingly warmer than I thought a popular girl would be.
Since the yacht discussion wasn’t going anywhere, I gave that up for a topic that I needed to ask about anyway. For the first time in my life I was about to ask another girl my age to talk about a boy.
“Have you ever seen Valcas when he wasn’t wearing his dark glasses?”
“Yes, I have. Valcas has had those visors for as long as I can remember. He rarely takes them off. It is unfortunate.”
“Unfortunate? What do you mean?”
Shirlyn looked at me as if I was crazy. “Valcas has the same exact brilliant green eyes as Aunt Sable. One would think that he would want to show them off rather than cover them up.”
I grinned so widely that I felt foolish. Somehow I’d always known that Valcas’ eyes would be green. Not the light green color I hoped he had after first meeting him, but the fiery jeweled green that pierced me from his mother’s photograph.
I pressed further. “How old was Valcas in the photographs you showed me?”
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