“Ah, I was wondering what that said. How did you know?” she asked nervously as she stood and wiped her hands on her jeans.
He looked wistfully over her shoulder, looking at the stones as if he saw the people buried beneath them standing there clear as day. His eyes clouded over, and he spoke softly, respectfully.
“I’ve been coming here a while. I knew what it said before the names were cleared away. That was Mister Colin Abernathy, and his wife Kyla. Their sons John and Michael are there, but I don’t know the third.”
Her brows knit together, confused. He didn’t look that old, but the stones looked like the weather had worn away their names almost a hundred years ago. The bad storms we had been having lately and the nasty winter that just passed must have had a major effect on the stones and wore everything away quicker. I couldn’t even begin to understand how he knew the names of the children, since the only thing of them were small semi-circles of granite sticking up out of the ground.
“The stone was cracked almost as soon as it was put up,” he added quickly, looking back at her and noticing her confused look.
He stepped toward her carefully, his hands clasped behind his back just as he had them yesterday, his shoulders tensed as if he was using considerable strength to keep his hands where they were. She noticed he still wore the same clothes, though his shirt was tucked in today and, disappointingly, buttoned up almost to the neck.
He pulled one hand slowly from behind his back and raised it cautiously, grabbing a wayward wisp of her hair between his finger and thumb, and gently pushing it behind her ear.
“Forgive me,” he breathed, hushed. “It seemed to have become unruly.”
She quickly and unnecessarily pushed the same curl behind her ear, doing the same on the other side, and then crossing her arms in front of her. She could feel the color rising in her cheeks and fought to find something to say next.
“I do apologize. I seem to have startled you again. I don’t mean to be so scary.”
“Oh no!” She said, a little too hastily. “I mean. You’re not scary. I just didn’t realize anyone was here so early.” She never was a very good liar, and hoped desperately that he didn’t notice.
“I hadn’t realized myself that anyone else was here. Most people don’t come past the trees, once they realize what’s back here. But I do notice that it doesn’t bother you,” he said with a tinge of confusion in his voice, his head tilted a bit as if trying to size up whether she was brave, stupid, or both.
She took several slow steps toward him, and he matched her perfectly as he stepped backward. She stopped, feeling as though she was pushing him away.
“So, Miss…” he trailed off.
Sofie couldn’t help but smile. She was in the presence of a gentleman. How refreshing.
“Morgan,” she replied as she held out her hand for him to shake. “But please, call me Sofie.”
He looked at her hand intently, as if he was trying to decide what to do. She could see his hesitation and started wondering just how long she should keep her hand out there, and how to pull it back without looking and feeling like a fool. Then slowly his hand came up to grasp hers carefully, as if he were grabbing the bud of a rose. His skin felt warm as he wrapped his fingers carefully around hers, lifting them to his soft lips. Her breath caught in her throat and she suddenly forgot how to breathe.
“William McKay, at your service,” he introduced himself as he easily kissed the back of her hand.
Her mouth dropped open again as her fingers involuntarily tightened ever so slightly, her eyes fixed on the top of his still tussled head of hair. She noticed his hair was longer than she thought, and it was tied back with a leather thong. He straightened, his eyes moving slowly up, taking in the entire front of her clothes. She was at once grateful that she wore the vee neck button down and regretting it as she suddenly felt exposed. Plus, she was sure that he could tell she wore it purposely for the fact that it accentuated the décolletage helped by the pushup bra she wore underneath it. Her stomach twisted into a massive knot, and she could feel her knees begin to shake. She wasn’t sure if she was breathing or not, and at that minute she really didn’t care.
“Are you okay, Miss?” he asked urgently.
“Fine,” she squeaked out, and cleared her throat. “Ahem, fine. Why?”
His hand never left hers, and her fingers eased a bit. His stayed protectively around her hand, not loosening but not tightening either.
“Your face has gone sheet white, as if you’ve seen a ghost,” he answered, a flash of amusement in his eyes conflicting with the concern in his voice.
The corner of his lips pulled up into his lopsided smile, and she couldn’t help but stare at his beautiful mouth. She barely shook her head as she repeated, “I’m fine.”
Sofie gently and reluctantly pulled her hand out of his, the skin skill tingling where he placed his kiss.
“Umm, do you live at that farm down the road?” she asked, trying to bring everything back around to disinterested casual conversation.
“I live… close by, yes,” he said carefully.
His answer was guarded, and she could tell he was getting uncomfortable. She was scaring him, she could tell, so she needed to figure out how to get him to talk without asking him anything. That was going to be a challenge.
“So, Miss Morgan…” he started, putting her a little more at ease.
“Sofie, please,” she corrected him quickly.
“Sofie,” he whispered with a smile on his lips. Her heart fluttered at the sound of his beautiful voice saying her name, and she fought the urge to ask him to say it again.
“Why is a woman as beautiful as you wasting a day such as this walking around a cemetery with a man such as me? Surely you have better ways to spend your time, and with more intriguing people,” he said, a bit self-deprecating.
He thought this was wasting a day? It had barely just begun, and they had been together for no more than half an hour.
“Trying to get rid of me so quickly?” she teased, looking at him sideways. The thought that her time with him today might be ending before it really began made her a bit sad, much to her surprise.
He snickered, shaking his head slightly. I said something funny, apparently.
“Not at all. I would be happy if you would stay with me. I just thought perhaps you had more exciting people that you could be spending time with, other than a dry, dull, dreary man who seems to have a knack for scaring the wits out of you.”
Dry, dull and dreary were hardly words that she would have used to describe William McKay. He was tall, but not so much more than she was. The muscles in his arms strained against the sleeves of his shirt, and his chest was hard and the skin that peaked through was gleaming. His whole body seemed to radiate with a sparkle and heat, as if he absorbed the power of the sun into his very being. His voice soothed her, the way a mother’s might soothe a sick child during a bedtime lullaby, and the way no other voice had ever done before.
“I like the place full of dead people. They’re easier for me to get along with,” she admitted.
“Really? Why is that?” he asked, seemingly genuinely curious.
“Well, let’s just say that I and most of the state’s population don’t get along. I’m not exactly what you’d call social, and I keep to myself a lot.” She hoped that didn’t make her sound too complex or, worse, boring. It was the truth, and if she thought about it, considering that she owned a store and was dealing with people daily the fact that she was asocial was pretty ironic.
“Hmm. Well, you seem to be talking to me easily enough,” he said, very matter-of-fact. “Is that a good or bad thing?”
She opened her mouth to protest, but the words didn’t form. He was right. She talked to people when they came into her store, the obligatory niceties. But when it came to saying hello to people passing on the street, she bowed her head and stared straight at the sidewalk. She was thinking that was probably where her strength and independence
came from. She had to learn to take care of herself if she didn’t have the will power to ask John Q. Public for help.
But now here she was, talking with a man she didn’t know. Someone she met only yesterday, and for a very brief period of time. She hadn’t even known his name until five minutes ago.
They walked a bit further, away from the main part of the cemetery toward a small clump of trees, tall grasses growing around the trunks. They parted only long enough to walk around one of the trees, but then came together again like magnets. There was always a comfortable but respectable space between them. Absently she pulled at one of the tall grasses, twisting it around and playing with it to keep her hands busy.
“So tell me about you,” he started, his voice suddenly full of excitement. “Where do you come from?”
“Where do I come from?” she responded, not quite sure she heard the question correctly. “You mean, just recently, or where was I born?”
He smiled and reached around to assist with her wayward wisp again, tucking it gingerly behind her ear as he asked, “I mean, where you were before you came here this morning?”
She staggered a bit, but only for a brief second, and kept walking.
“Um… I was home in bed.”
“And is home nearby?”
“Does it matter?” she asked, suddenly interested why he wanted to know the distance between here and there.
“I’m just curious, if you got up with the specific thought of coming here, or if you happened to be just driving in the neighborhood and decided to stop by.”
She twirled the long stalk of grass she still held in her hand, twisting it into knots.
“No, I pretty much woke up, got dressed, got in my car, and drove here with not another thought or destination in mind. This is where I was looking to be today,” she admitted without thought or care.
A chilled wind blew up all of a sudden, whipping all around them, pulling waves and curls of her hair out of their confinement. She looked up, and the bright spring morning had turned a dark, menacing gray. Clouds flashed with lightning, though there was no threat of rain in the air.
“This is weird. Where in the hell did this come from?” she asked, raising her voice to be heard over the noise of the wind. She looked over at William, whose face was pointed straight up, his eyes filled with alarm, his expression grim and worried.
“No!” she saw him mouth; his lips pulled over his teeth in a snarl. His face was as dark as the clouds.
He looked down at her, his eyes full of worry. He grabbed her hand, his fingers warm and protective around hers, and led her back the way they had just come. As they began to walk, the wind calmed, and the frightening clouds began to part and the sun shone again. He kept a hold of her hand, his grip was nervous and tight, but still gentle.
“Wow. That was weird, huh?” she asked again a bit nervously. “Talk about freak storms.”
He didn’t even smile but looked broodingly at the ground as they walked. Without uttering a word, he was telling her she had to leave.
“It might be the start of a big rainstorm, so perhaps you ought to go home and get yourself out of the weather,” he said to her frankly, though his eyes were pinned to the ground.
She looked up and didn’t see a black cloud in sight. The sky was just as blue as it had been when she got there, and not even a whisper of white was floating around.
“But what if I don’t want to go?” she asked desperately, turning quickly, pulling herself free from his grasp.
He opened his mouth as if he was going to say something, then thought better and closed it again. He took a deep breath through his nose, letting it out slowly, a small smile turning up the right corner of his mouth.
“It truly is a beautiful day,” he said, his smile fading as he looked up at the sky. “For the most part.” He turned his head back to her slowly, a faint cloudiness darkening his beautiful eyes.
“You should stay and enjoy yourself then. But I must go,” he said sadly. “Until next time.” He touched her cheek gently with the back of his hand, then turned on his heel and walked away, his head bowed, his hands shoved into his pockets. She took a few steps forward, meaning to follow him, squinting into the tree line to see which direction he went. But as her eyes adjusted more to the darkness just beyond, she realized he literally disappeared.
The wind had pulled just about all of her hair out of its holder, so she tugged the elastic out and let it hang loose. She ran her fingers through the mess, trying to untangle the jumble of brown curls that had knotted together. Her hand dropped, slapping the side of her thigh as she stared at the tree line, willing him to come back. She let out an exasperated sigh as she pulled her hair back into a ponytail at the back of her head. She knew where to find him, sort of. At least she knew the general area of where he seemed to spend a lot of time. She decided desperation was not the impression she was going to give to him, so she reached into her pocket to pull out her keys and headed back to her car. She slid into the seat and the engine purred to life as she turned the key, then threw the car in reverse and sped out of the parking lot
Will watched as the small blue car drove out of the parking lot, his hands leaning against one of the massive oaks at the tree line, just in the shadows out of sight. He put his cheek against the cool bark, squeezing his eyes tight. A small smile came to his face as he remembered every detail of Sofie Morgan. He inhaled deeply as he brought back the smell of her hair, the scent of her skin. His fingertips tingled as he felt her soft hands in his, her long slender fingers wrapped around his. He remembered her lips, her mouth drawn up into a smile that made her eyes sparkle and he longed to taste those lips. He closed his eyes and imagined his hands tangled in her hair, his arms wrapped tightly around her as his mouth descended on her mouth, the warm skin on her neck.
Does she know yet what you are, dear William?
His smile disappeared quickly, and his blood began to run cold. A dark, foreboding voice reverberated in his head, familiar and frightening. Will squeezed his eyes tighter as he fought to keep the sound out of his mind, but it was no use. The woman wanted to talk to him, and she was not going to be shut out.
Oh, sweet William. What is wrong? Have you forgotten me already?
“No, Elizabeth. I haven’t forgotten you. As much as I would like to, how could I?”
The tree trunk under Will’s hands vibrated with Elizabeth’s deep, ominous laugh. Will opened his eyes to see a translucent, shapeless cloud floating toward him. But as it got closer, the cloud began taking the form of a woman, her long, dull gray hair flying wildly about her. She moved her arms like a squirrel moves his tail, like she was trying to keep her balance as she floated a foot above the ground. Her fierce black eyes came sharply into focus as she came closer to him, her pale skin almost shimmering, her lips a dark purple.
Will didn’t flinch as she got nearer, and Elizabeth’s smile broadened. You are no longer afraid of me, dear William?
He pushed off the tree, deliberate and determined. His eyes fixed on hers, his lips set in a grim line. He folded his arms across his chest as he defied her to try and make him move.
“No, Elizabeth. I am not afraid of you anymore. I have not been afraid of you in years. You just cannot seem to understand this,” he challenged.
Oh William. After all these years, you still do not trust me?
Her lips didn’t move as she spoke. Her mouth would grin or frown or set in a line to exaggerate the feeling she was trying to get across, but no words were said. She could, but she much preferred to be a voice in his head. Actual words, he could ignore. He could cover his ears or turn and walk away. All of those were much too inconvenient for her. They would require her to chase or to fight with him. But being in his head, there was no getting away from that.
“I have never trusted you, Elizabeth,” he spoke aloud, unwilling to play the mind game with her. His voice would be heard.
Oh William, she pouted. That cannot be true. You must have trusted me o
nce upon a time.
“Oh, that is true,” he admitted as his arms dropped to his side and he turned to slowly walk away. She floated behind him. “I did trust you once. But it has been many, many years since then. A couple of hundred, in fact.”
That hurts, my dear boy. And what have I done to make you not trust me?
Will had to stop walking as he almost doubled over laughing. “Oh, you have got to be kidding me, Elizabeth,” he said as he wiped tears from him eyes.
Now William. You must admit, you had it coming to you.
“I have to admit what?” he turned on her, screaming, chagrined. “And how exactly did I do that, dearest Elizabeth? What exactly did I do to deserve what you did to me?”
She came up abruptly, stopping just short of him, her face only inches from his. His eyes narrowed on her, but he did not make to move away from her. Elizabeth bobbed her head toward him quickly, as if she was going to try to kiss him, and then she backed away.
Well yes, dearest. This could have all been avoided.
“All I had to do was allow you to murder me,” he yelled, acerbically.
Oh, not at all, dearest, she claimed innocently. All you needed to do was to find my Charlotte. You only needed to bring her soul back to me. But you failed at that! Her voice rose, the clouds overhead becoming dark and swirling. The wind blew the leaves in the trees sideways, and he watched as saplings bent almost in half to get into the protection of the bigger trees beside them.
Will remained calm, resolute that he was not going to give Elizabeth the satisfaction of intimidating him. When they were alone, just the two of them, he could withstand a lot. He figured there was not much more she could do to him. “And how exactly was I to do that, Elizabeth? Oh yes, I was to let you murder me!”
Elizabeth was resigned that perhaps William had a point. She did want to kill him, but not to let him die. Her plan was to send him to the otherworld, where she was convinced the soul of her daughter sat waiting to be brought back, as well as that of her daughter’s son. Only when they were safely returned to her would Elizabeth be merciful and let William finally and peacefully die. However, she was not interested in getting into that conversation. After all these centuries, she couldn’t really remember if she explained that part of the plan to William.
Destined ~ A Time Travel Anthology Page 6