by Bree Wolf
There was a hint of relief on his face and he didn’t press the matter. “What’s that?” he asked, pointing at me.
Looking down I realized I was still holding the book Ryan had given me. “Oh, I got this at work.” I handed the book to him.
Reading the title, he said, “I’ve heard of this book. It’s supposed to be really great.” He looked up at me. “Since when do you read sci-fi?”
“Since I was asked to write a review,” I replied.
His eyes opened wide. “Really? That’s great!” He gave me a hug. “I’m proud of you, sis.”
I smiled up at him. “Thanks. Ryan said they’ll only publish it if it’s good enough…which I guess should be taken for granted. And I know that sci-fi is not really my thing but I’ve decided to try it anyway.”
He nodded. “You should. It’s a great opportunity.”
“I know,” I said, taking the book from him. “So, if you excuse me? I think I’ll get right to it then.”
I quickly changed into my PJ’s and, propping up my pillows, I lay back in bed and started to read. Surprised, I found it interesting from page one, without that usual technology babble that only people with a PhD in physics could understand. Now and then I even heard myself laugh. Taking a few notes here and there, I soon began to have trouble reading my own handwriting and the print became more difficult to make out as well. Stifling a yawn, I took the engraved silver bookmark from Jane Eyre and clipped it on the page, putting the book on my nightstand.
Pulling the blanket tight around me, I soon drifted off to sleep. And as though we had a nightly appointment, there it was again. That voice I had been hearing almost every night for a few days now. Again it sounded familiar. And again I didn’t recognize it. But that night I noted for the first time that it was a male voice speaking to me.
Book Three
Chapter Ten – Book-Learning
The cheerful twittering of birds slowly drifted into my mind. I opened my eyes, yawning. How was it that morning always came too soon? Looking out the window, I saw snowflakes flying by, whirling in circles and settling on the crossbars of the window. There already was an inch-high pile on the outside window sill.
And then it hit me. Snow? It was August. Why was there snow?
Sitting up abruptly, my eyes opened wide as I found myself in my old bedroom in my grandmother’s cottage, which was about an hour from town, in winter maybe two. It was the place where my brother and I had grown up after our parents’ death.
Rubbing my temples, I realized it had happened again. And again I hadn’t noticed. I had gone to bed in 2011. What year was it now?
Looking around the room, I detected nothing unusual. It looked the same as I’d left it after moving out. My grandmother had never changed it. She had always wanted us to feel at home when we came to visit. And there in the corner by the door stood a suitcase, yet unpacked, which meant that I didn’t live here anymore. It was only a visit. But that still didn’t tell me which year it was.
I quickly pulled on a pair of jeans and a sweater and headed to the kitchen, the smell of freshly baked waffles finding me halfway down the stairs.
“There you are, sleepyhead,” came my grandma’s cheery voice. “Are you this tired from too much book-learning or partying?” she asked, putting the final touches on the breakfast table.
“Book-learning?” I frowned, sitting down at my usual spot.
She nodded. “With all the courses you’re taking I bet you don’t have a lot of time left for anything other than studying. Or is the workload less this semester?”
“This semester?” I repeated like a dummy. My eyes fell on the calendar pinned to the front of the fridge and I grabbed the table for support. Apparently, it was the 23rd December 2004.
“Are you all right?” my grandma asked, putting a hand on my forehead. “You don’t have a fever,” she stated. “Here, have something to eat. It’ll make you feel better.”
The door flew open and Andy walked in, covered in snow. He grinned at me, putting the snow shovel by the door, and took off his boots. “Finally up, sleepyhead?”
I frowned at him. “What are you two? On the same cycle?”
“Keep those boots by the door,” my grandma instructed with a stern voice. “I don’t want no snow in my house.”
Obediently, Andy put his boots on the mat left out for that specific purpose. “Are there any waffles left for me?” he asked, sitting down.
“Don’t worry I saved you some,” Grandma said. “But on second thought, maybe you shouldn’t have any. You’re growing way too big. What are you now? 6’8’’? 7’?”
Andy grinned. “5’8’’. But who’s counting? Pass the syrup, please.”
It was easy getting back into the old routine; and it felt wonderful. I had always loved Christmas in this house. It felt so distant from everything else. A little cottage far out by a lake, surrounded by trees and bushes and fields as far as the eye could see with only one unpaved road leading up to it. And right now it was sugared with snow, gleaming in the sun.
But at the same time I knew I shouldn’t be here. It might be my place but not my time. Not anymore. And I had no idea what I was doing here or how I was supposed to get back to where or better yet, when I belonged. Wherever that was? Right then and there, I wasn’t sure. Was 2011 really the time I belonged to? Or was it just right now the most up-to-date one I remembered?
Suddenly another thought flashed across my mind. One that upset me. I had been yanked out of 2011 before I had been able to hand in my review.
Would I ever get back and be able to actually write it? Or had I just missed my chance be-cause time would move on without me? If I ever did, would I get back to a time after that event with no knowledge of what had happened in-between? However, so far there had been no gaps in my memory. That was comforting.
“Abby is gonna come, right?” Andy asked, picking at his waffles.
“What?” I hadn’t been paying attention.
“Abby,” he repeated, avoiding my eyes. “She’ll spend Christmas with us, right? You said so.”
“Eh,” I started. For a moment I was lost. But as before my memories returned and were as clear as could be expected. “Yes. She’ll come. Her parents are in London arguing about who gets to keep what. She really doesn’t want to see them.”
Andy nodded, still looking at his plate. “Good.”
My eyes narrowed. “Why are you asking?”
He shook his head. “Just wanted to know.”
For a moment, I thought I spotted a faint blush darkening his face. Knowing what would happen with them down the road, I suddenly saw something I hadn’t seen before. At least not that I remembered. How could I have missed it? He had always liked her.
“Divorce is hard on everyone,” my grandma said, shaking her head. “How is Abby dealing with it? She must be devastated.”
“Actually, she doesn’t care all that much,” I said, although knowing that my grandma wouldn’t understand. “Abby’s not that close to her parents. She never has been. And I think she doesn’t mind as long as they leave her alone and don’t bother her with their problems. She might seem feisty but she likes harmony as much as anyone…I guess.”
After breakfast, I dressed in the warmest clothes I could find, and went outside. I needed to think, and the house felt a little too crowded. For a moment I thought about saying something to Andy. But he would have had no idea what I was talking about. I might remember our conversations about my time shifts because they were in my past but for him, they hadn’t happened yet.
The cold, clean air was incredibly refreshing, and except for a slight tingling sensation in my ears, I felt quite relaxed. Since I had nothing better to do, I decided on a longer walk and, rounding the lake, headed toward the village where I used to go to school. In the last ten years not much had changed. However, technically that had been only four years ago, and not ten.
The houses and streets were decorated with garlands and lights. Everything sh
one in green, red and gold. A smoky aroma hung in the air from the huge bonfire in town’s square that was traditionally lit every night for the last four nights before Christmas Day; and so close to the big day the streets were bustling with people, most of them doing some last minute shopping. I guess in that regard people were the same anywhere. Some things just didn’t change.
Walking up toward town’s square, I was actually swimming against the tide and had some trouble dodging people carrying huge bags of what I presumed to be presents. That they didn’t fall over from the weight seemed to be a miracle in itself.
Constantly muttering apologies for bumping or almost bumping into someone, I finally saw the yet unlit bonfire up ahead. But coming around another group of shoppers sipping steaming cups of mulled wine I slipped on a hidden patch of black ice and almost went down. In the last minute an arm caught me.
“Oh my gosh! Thank you,” I mumbled, trying to get my feet back under me. When I looked up, the breath once more caught in my throat though.
It was him.
He had taken hold of my elbow and pulled me back to my feet. As soon as I stood upright again, he let go and just looked at me in this strange way that became more familiar every time I saw him. Once more there was that weird stillness settling over me, which like the ice on the road seemed to spread into every part of my body, making it impossible for me to set them in motion. I stood there, frozen.
His eyes held mine, never venturing. Then he took a deep breath and closed them for just a moment before looking at me again. “You shouldn’t be here,” he said, the words spoken carefully but with vehemence. To match, his eyes had grown hard as though he was getting impatient with me.
Still unable to move, I started to say something. But the moment I opened my mouth, an-other shopper slipped on the ice to my left and having nothing else to hold on to, he grabbed my arm, pulling me down with him.
I hit the ground hard and let out a cry of pain. As did he.
Scrambling back up, he quickly apologized and helped me back to my feet. But when I turned back to the man, who again had appeared out of nothing, I found him nowhere to be seen. Once more he had vanished into the same nothing he had come from.
And once again frustration hit me. It was like a strange cycle we were stuck in. He would show up, then disappear before I could get anything out of him, leaving me feeling discouraged and somehow mentally exhausted until he would show up again. So far we had done this a couple of times and it looked like nothing was going to change about it. At least not anytime soon.
I wondered why it was that we were always interrupted. Mostly he turned away and left. He would get my attention only to walk away. But sometimes it was like the world came between us, made me lose sight of him or keep me from getting to where he was. Just like today. I wondered if there was a reason. Maybe we were not meant to meet. At least not for real.
Still looking at the spot where he had stood only a moment ago, I suddenly realized some-thing else. In the midst of our sudden encounter, it hadn’t occurred to me that seeing him here–in this time and place–meant that there had to be a connection between my time shifts and his appearances. Somehow the two were connected.
Maybe he caused the time shifts himself? But if that was true, then why would they affect me? Or maybe he was stuck in them just like I was? But if that was true, then it seemed very likely that we were experiencing the same time shifts. After all, he had been pulled back to 2004 as well.
Chapter Eleven - Family
I just arrived home to see a cab carefully picking its way down the icy driveway and back onto the road. Leaving my wet boots on the mat by the door, I went into the living room where my grandmother was just hugging Abby.
“It’s so good to see you again, girl. I’ve missed you around here. Sometimes it gets awfully quiet.”
“Thanks again for letting me spend Christmas with you, Eleanor,” Abby said, her face flushed from the cold.
“Oh, think nothing of it,” my grandma replied. “You’re family any way.”
A relieved smile appeared on Abby’s face. “I’m just so glad I won’t have to deal with those arguing parents of mine. I mean they are trying on a normal day. But with the holidays and everything, I don’t think I could take any more of their bitching. One of us was bound to get hurt.” Grinning at me, she added, “I’m not so much worried about myself as I am about them. I’m not picky when it comes to shutting them up.”
Coming down the stairs, my brother’s face seemed to light up a little upon seeing her. It was so strange that I’d never noticed that before.
“Hi Abby, how was your trip?”
“Good.” She smiled at him cordially, then grabbed my arm and pulled me back to the front door. “C’mon, you can help me unpack.” And pointing to her bags, she spoke with a show master attitude. “But first it is your great privilege to assist your best friend in moving her very deli-cate possessions to the second floor.” An overly stretched camera grin appeared on her face. She looked like she was possessed or something.
“Let me do that,” Andy said, almost sneaking up from behind and before we could say anything, he was already halfway up the stairs.
“Perfect,” Abby marveled. “Little brothers do seem to come in handy sometimes. Maybe I should get one for myself, what do you think?” We followed her luggage upstairs. “Or would you mind sharing yours?”
I caught a glimpse of Andy’s face. He didn’t seem all too pleased with her comment.
Andy put her bags in my room and when he hesitated by the door, Abby said, “I’d tip you but I’m a little short on cash.” Nothing new there.
Without another word, my brother disappeared into his own room. I had to admit I felt a little sorry for him. Should I ever get back to my own time, I’d ask him for how long he’d been carrying the Abby-torch.
“So, who gets to sleep in the bed?” Abby asked, eyeing the twin bed warily. “There’s no way we’d both fit in it.”
“How about you take it—”
Clapping her hands, she said, “Oh goodie. Now we’re talking!”
I held up a hand to put the brakes on her enthusiasm. “Wait a second! Would you let me finish?”
Frowning, she shook her head. “Not if it ends badly for me.”
I couldn’t help but grin. “How about we both go halfway? You take the bed tonight and tomorrow we switch. And so on. And so on.”
She didn’t look real happy. “Fine.” She exhaled audibly. “You know if this is the way you treat your guests, I’m not surprised you’re having so few.”
“Nice talk.” I shook my head at her. “Want me to send you back to your parents?”
Her mouth fell open. “Hey, cheap shot!” But she raised her hands in defeat. “All right, I surrender. Well played, I must say.”
“Okay then, let me move a few things.” I pushed her suitcase into the corner by the window and cleared a few things off my dresser and the nightstand to make room for hers. Experience had taught me that Abby never traveled light.
“Hey, you’re still reading this?” she asked, picking up a book from my nightstand. As she held it up to my face, I could see it was Shakespeare’s Hamlet.
“Yeah, I love that book. Why?”
“Girl, they force us to read this crap in school. You don’t have to make it too easy for them.” She pointed at me with an accusing finger. “And don’t ever say that again. It’s creepy.”
I laughed. “Have you never liked a book?”
A line appeared between her eyes. “Do magazines count?”
I shook my head in mock disbelief. “No, they don’t.” I said, stressing every word.
“Ooh, who gave you this?” she asked, again holding the book up to my face. Only now it was opened to page 56 and there at the top was the silver bookmark, which read Today & Tomorrow. I had completely forgotten about it.
“Eh, I don’t know,” I said honestly. “You’ve never seen it before either, have you?”
Frownin
g, she shook her head. “Why? It’s yours. And since you’ve never told me about what is going on with you and Mr. Non-Disclosure, how would I know about any of this?”
“There is no Mr. …Non-Disclosure,” I said, frowning at her choice of words.
“Really? Then where did this clip come from? Especially with an engraving as this.” She examined it more closely. “It basically screams ‘gift’. Wouldn’t you say?”
“You’re right,” I mumbled, looking at the bookmark from over her shoulder. It had never occurred to me before. But now it seemed pretty obvious. It was the kind of thing you didn’t buy for yourself but that someone bought for you.
“C’mon, tell me,” Abby begged. “I promise I’ll keep it a secret.”
Feeling helpless, I shrugged my shoulders. “I really don’t know. I’ve already wondered about it myself.”
“That’s weird,” she said, stating the obvious. “Maybe it belonged to your mom. You know, maybe your dad gave it to her.”
I thought about it for a second but then shook my head. “No, I’d have seen it before. It’s like it appeared out of nowhere.” I didn’t mention that the first time I ever saw it was in 2007 which was about three years from now. That sentence in itself was surreal and completely ab-surd. Who knew if she’d be ready believe me now?
“Maybe you should ask your grams.”
“No, if she knows nothing about it, she’d just think up some crazy story to explain it. And in her mind it would probably end in a burglary gone wrong. Or something even more absurd.”
Abby frowned. “A burglar who brings something?”
I nodded. “Yeah, for you and me that would seem too insane to even consider. But believe me, that woman is a master at ignoring the obvious. A minor detail such as this will be no match for her abilities.”