The Wayfarer's Daughter: A Time Travel Romance (The Wayfarer Series Book 2)

by Jennifer L. Hayes

  “Hey, get off there, you bird,” I shouted and threw my arms in the air, hoping to scare him off.

  His eyes only seemed to roll back in his head as he stretched his wings out, showing off their impressive length.

  Emily laughed.

  “He’s not going anywhere, luv, he’s been following you for quite some time, he has.” She gestured towards the inside. “Come in, girls.”

  “He better not scratch the car,” April said to me under her breath, but I hardly heard it.

  What did Emily mean when she said that the bird had been following me?

  Ridiculous!

  Weren’t there millions of these birds all over the place? How could you tell it was the same one?

  I gave the bird a skeptical look. I pointed two fingers at my eyes and then pointed to him. I’m watching you, I wanted him to know. Then I followed Emily and April into the house.

  Inside, Emily’s home was warm and welcoming, a polar opposite to the scene outside, with white walls and tasteful modern art. Two overstuffed white couches angled towards a large stone fireplace which dominated the space. This woman might still prove to be nuts, but she did have good taste.

  Three fur pillows looked up simultaneously at me.

  Cats.

  Their eyes followed me and they hissed as I walked through the front room, sending tiny pricks of awareness down my spine.

  The kitchen was a modern marvel in contrast to the age of the house, with sleek stainless-steel appliances and marble countertops.

  “It used to be a coach house and I got it for a steal,” Emily said as she led us through to the kitchen table. “Fancy a cuppa?”

  I gathered she meant tea. How many ways did the English offer the beverage? Like the many words to describe rain, I believed they had equal numbers for their favorite hot drink.

  “Yes, please,” I said, running my hand across the smooth surface of the remarkable wood table. “This table is gorgeous.” The rough edges of the sides gave a rustic feel.

  “An old tree in the front fell during one of the storms so I had it made into a table. It’s one of my favorite pieces in the whole house.”

  April settled into one of the black Eames chairs. “You’d never know it was so beautiful in here, judging by its curb appeal,” April said, not able to speak anything but the truth. I swore that girl’s foot lived permanently in her mouth.

  “Yes, well, I’ve had trouble keeping a gardener, it seems.” Emily laughed, a deep heartfelt laugh that mirrored my mother’s.

  Emily plopped tea bags into three mugs, filled them each with boiling water and joined us with a small jug of milk wedged under her armpit.

  “Tell me, Emma, what brings you to Buxton then?”

  How to even start?

  “My mother had told me where she was from but nothing about the family.” A touch of nerves tingled through my body. “I wanted to know more about my heritage.”

  Emily looked from me to April, who was studying her mug.

  “I make those,” Emily said to her.

  “They’re beautiful,” April said like she was some sort of authority on ceramics.

  “Ah… it’s nothin’ but a hobby, keeps my mind busy.” She shifted her attention back to me. “I never thought you’d find your way back, but here you are. Mum would’ve been so chuffed to see you all grown up.”

  “Em, you never told me you were born here,” April piped up, suddenly intrigued, like I was now an authentic English person, not just someone with the passport.

  “I wasn’t,” I said, looking from April to Emily. “Was I?”

  “Well, not here exactly.” Emily hesitated. “No matter, the important thing is that now you are here. Tell me, have you traveled much since arriving in England?”

  The double entendre hung heavily between us. At least that was how I interpreted it. April was completely unaware.

  “She’s only just been here two weeks, right, Em?”

  “I have.” Ignoring April, I looked straight to Emily.

  She nodded her head slowly. “Where to?”

  “Eighteen fifty-four.”

  April looked from me to Emily. “Am I missing something?” April pinched the bridge of her nose. “You know, Em, I suddenly don’t feel so well. Emily, do you have a restroom?”

  Emily looked at her in confusion.

  “Oh, right, wrong word. A WC?”

  “Down the hall on your right.”

  “You okay? Do you want me to come with you?” I asked.

  Emily put a hand on my arm to keep me in my seat.

  “Nah, I think that lunch we had isn’t sitting so well. I’ll be fine.”

  I hoped she wasn’t getting some sort of stomach bug.

  April left us and Emily turned her full attention back to me.

  “We can’t talk about these things in front of her,” Emily hissed at me.

  “What? April? She’s my friend. She’s gonna find out sooner or later.” I felt taken back by the sudden shift in Emily, scared even.

  “It’s dangerous.” She grabbed April’s cup and brought it to the sink and then sat back down.

  “You were the one asking me questions,” I said defensively.

  Maybe I should leave.

  “It’s called polite conversation. Are things so twisted in America that folks are not allowed a few pleasantries from time to time?”

  A loud thud from another part of the house made me jump.

  “April?” I called out, getting out of my chair.

  “She’s fine, just leave her.”

  “How do you know she’s fine? She doesn’t sound fine.”

  “It’ll wear off in a bit,” Emily said matter-of-factly.

  “What? Did you drug her?”

  “Don’t get your kickers in a knot, it was only a pinch.”

  “Jesus Christ! You are crazy! You can’t just drug my friend. Now I know why my mother didn’t want me coming here—you’re nuts, totally fucking bonkers.”

  “You listen here, your mother didn’t want you coming back here because of the danger. That’s why she moved you so far away and to a place with far less risk.”

  My jaw snapped shut.

  Danger?

  Hadn’t I faced enough of it?

  What other dangers were out there?

  “Your friend will have a headache but otherwise be fine.” She took a deep breath and tried to steady her breathing. “It’s you I’m worried about. There are people out there who will stop at nothing to be able to do what you do.”

  “You mean what we do, right?”

  “Emma, darling, you are special.” Tears welled up in her eyes. “The firstborn daughters are always the strongest, but even more still, certain powers skip one generation.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Your grandmother was one of the most powerful wayfarers—actually, she was one of the originals. You are able to do things that even your mother could not do.”

  “Like what?”

  “When I travel, I have to rely on external forces of energy to a large degree. But you can act as your own conduit. You can channel energy and even take it from other sources at your own will.”

  “So I don’t need to be hit by lightning for this to happen?”

  “Not once you understand how to act as your own power station.”

  Well, thank goodness for small mercies. Twice in one lifetime was enough.

  “My mother was able to use the flow of rivers, a storm or even the energy of animals. We all have spirit animals. In case you hadn’t noticed mine is feline. Yours, however, seems to be the majestic red kite, a predator extinct for the last one hundred and sixty years in England. And now one is following you around like a puppy.”

  This was nonsense. Spirit animals. Now Emily sounded like some sort of kooky muumuu-wearing nutcase you’d find in an adobe house littered with wind chimes and cleaning her animal skulls in rural New Mexico.

  Sensing my disbelief, Emily asked, “Darling, did you no
t notice your effect on my cats? Cats want to eat small birds but the large ones they fear.”

  “Emily, I’m not a bird.” The words sounded even more ridiculous out of my mouth. It was a good thing that April was not here to witness this. She’d have thrown me over her tiny shoulders and run from the house.

  “No, don’t be daft, but their energy flows through you,” Emily said, her eyes lighting up for effect.

  Her last words hung in the air between us.

  I imagined soaring through the air like the kite.

  Well, maybe that was a little far-fetched. It wasn’t like I’d be adding flying to my list of gifts.

  “So, where do we begin? How do I learn to do all that?”

  “Those aren’t gifts I have. I can only tell you what I do and even then I’m not always that successful.”

  “How do you navigate where you’ll go?”

  “There is a natural pull that generally guides you. A connection you’ve already made with another soul that grounds you to them. That’s been my experience and the simplest way to explain it. You have to stop thinking about time in a linear fashion. Events don’t simply sail past us, they exist in different parts of space and time. However, we must tread carefully, because if we make too many ripples, those ripples turn into waves and that, my dear girl, can really muck you about.”

  Images of Henry flooded my mind. What kind of ripples had I already caused? A plume of unease settled in my gut. My hand slid down to my belly and the life, his blood, inside me.

  “Emily, what if I’ve already done some stuff and…” The uneasiness in my voice was impossible to mask.

  “What stuff?” Her tone was serious.

  Everything started flowing out of me faster than I could control it. “Umm, well… for starters, I may have saved a man and possibly killed another, but that really wasn’t my fault at all, and the—”

  “Slow down, luv, you did what?”

  “I saved a man who was supposed to die and was maybe responsible for the death of someone else, but he really was quite horrible, and I think because of all that, it’s possible that a house, a grand house, burned down in a fire when I don’t believe it was supposed to.” Phew. That felt good to unload.

  “Oh! Are ya faffin’?”

  I had no idea what she’d just said. Was that another language?

  Judging by her expression, she wasn’t having a laugh. You never knew with these Brits.

  “Am I in trouble?”

  “If Mum was here you would be. You know those waves I was talking about? There are some shifts and changes that can happen without stirring the pot too much and others that risk it spilling over completely. You, my dear, have done the latter. I’m afraid you need to lie low. Go back to California and let the natural course of things readjust. The last thing you want is to draw attention to yourself.”

  “But I can’t do that. I need to go back. What about my grandmother? Can I meet her? She must be able to help. You said I was more like her.”

  “I’m afraid she’s passed on. Your mum was on her way here when she had her… accident.”

  My mom’s accident. Nothing had ever felt right about that. A thought popped into my head.

  “Emily, do you suppose… I mean, is there a chance she is just traveling? Do you think she’s not actually dead?” It was impossible to mask the glimmer of hope in my voice.

  “I used to think that, but now it’s been far too long. She would have moved mountains to come back to you, Emma. She loved you more than life itself. A mother would do anything for her child,” Emily said, lost in her own thoughts.

  Again a warm tightness in my chest. Tears stung at my eyes.

  “I’m afraid the best advice I can give you is to go home. Get on a plane from Manchester and go back to America. It’s far too dangerous for you now.”

  I rubbed my stomach and noticed Emily watching me.

  “Are you with child, Emma?”

  A shy smile escaped my lips. I hadn’t even told April yet. Doing so would mean telling her about Henry and that conversation needed to be had over a glass of wine.

  I was still allowed at least one, right?

  “Yes, only just though, so I haven’t told my friend yet.”

  “Where was it conceived?”

  “When I was traveling.”

  She made a tsking sound.

  “Poor child, were you taken against your will?”

  “No, not at all.” I was shocked that she’d jump to that conclusion.

  “Cross-century births are extremely high risk. I don’t mean to alarm you, but your child cannot be carried to full term here. If you had your wits about you you’d terminate and forget these foolish ideas of going back.”

  The idea that the baby was at risk had never occurred to me.

  Suddenly, there was even more at stake.

  I heard some noise coming from the other end of the house.

  April was awake. This was my cue to leave. Maybe I’d return tomorrow to see Emily on my own.

  “Can I come back tomorrow, without my friend? I still have so many questions.”

  “Have you not been listening to a word I’ve said? You need to leave this place, live the life you were meant to live, the one your mum wanted you to have.”

  “But that’s just it, I don’t want that life.”

  She shook her head.

  “Argh… you are Eileen’s daughter all right, there’s no mistaking that. If you won’t listen to reason then go ahead and come tomorrow. I work at the Institute for the Blind until three, I’ll be here after that. But I leave for Southampton the day after for a conference.”

  Of course she worked with the blind. I remembered Miss Crabtree telling me how her friend had taught her about echolocation. All of a sudden so many more questions flooded my mind.

  “I think we have a friend in common, a Miss Crabtree from Oxwich?”

  She seemed to search her memory.

  “I don’t believe I know her, I’ve never been to Oxwich, but if I find myself there I will certainly look her up.”

  Could it be that she’d not yet traveled there?

  April emerged, looking a little worse for wear and putting an end to our conversation.

  I’d bring it up again tomorrow.

  “I feel like a bag of shit, Em, are you okay to go?”

  “Of course.”

  “Hold on one minute,” Emily said and hopped up. “I have something for you.”

  She rummaged through one of the drawers in the kitchen. It must be her catch-all drawer. Everyone seemed to have one.

  “Ah, there you are,” she said to the little box. It was made of wood with intricate carvings. Emily walked over to where I stood by the table. “This was your grandmother’s. It was supposed to go to your mother, but…” Her words trailed off. “It’s very dear.”

  I was surprised that something so precious was so carelessly stored.

  The wooden box felt heavier than it should. The wood was quite dense, I supposed.

  Shooting April an apologetic look for prolonging our stay, I removed the top lid to see what was inside. I knew nothing of my grandmother and felt intrigued to be holding one of her possessions.

  Inside, on a brown leather string, there was what looked like an old-fashioned whistle made of ivory or perhaps even bone.

  Very odd.

  I made a move to pick it up and bring it to my lips and Emily stopped me.

  “Not here, luv, only when you need it,” she said with a quick glance towards April.

  Great, more mystery.

  “Thank you,” I said, still a bit puzzled over the object. With it packed back in the safety of its little box, I made a move for the front door. “See you tomorrow.”

  Sure enough, when we stepped outside, there was my feathered friend. He was perched up on a tree above my car. When I looked up at him, he called out and then took to the sky.

  The clouds moved quickly overhead.

  A chill filled the air, maki
ng me involuntarily shudder.

  Chapter 8

  A discovery

  It had been one excruciatingly long week for Henry since Emma had disappeared.

  Every minute of every day was spent thinking about her, worrying for her safety and longing to hold her in his arms, under his protection.

  Henry poured himself a dram of whiskey and limped over to the small desk in the study.

  After the fire, which had consumed Dormer House right down to its foundation, the family had been forced to relocate to Farthington Manor—a neighboring estate to the east of Dormer House.

  Sir Clifton, who owned the home, was recovering from a nasty bout of gout in London and had offered them the use of it for as long as was needed. A fine chap indeed, Henry had thought.

  The countess, on the other hand, could find nothing positive to say; she found the bedchambers too small, the carpets too dusty and the general feeling of the place too dreary.

  If only she too had perished along with the paintings and draperies.

  That was an awful thought, he chided himself, he had been quite fond of those paintings.

  A deep-rooted pain pressed on him as he considered the loss of his childhood home. So much family history destroyed within moments in that blaze. Now his own future looked bleak. The wealth of his estate had been severely damaged.

  Isobel, his sister, still weak from the smoke, had yet to speak with the exception of those few words immediately following the fire, casting suspicion on Miss Clayton.

  How dared she?

  All lies. He knew that right down to his very core. She could not be prevailed upon to speak the truth, not even if her life depended on it.

  Now Papa, so concerned for her recovery, was sending her north so that she might convalesce and receive treatment from a doctor who specialized in afflictions of the lungs. Apparently, the countess had a cousin near Manchester whom Isobel was meant to stay with.

  The pair of them should go. That would at least give him a moment’s peace. Instead his stepmother’s complaints were to be his constant companion.

  As soon as he was well enough to ride he should leave for London. Even dealing with the cholera outbreak would be a reprieve from his current situation.

  Except what if Miss Clayton was to return? What then? He could not trust his father or his father’s wife to do right by her. He had no doubt that the earl had already employed half the police constables in and around London to keep an eye out for her.