Kitty’s face beamed. “Really? Where are we going?”
Julia’s glare returned as she brought her attention back to Kitty. “I’ll decide. And it won’t be any place you’d want to go.”
“Oh geez, not the art gallery again! That’s not R and R; that’s torture!”
Julia glanced at Shona, a hurt look on her face. “Is that what you call it, too? Torture?”
Shona raised an eyebrow, smiled a half-smile, and nodded.
“Well then, what do you suggest?” Julia crossed her arms and looked from one girl to the other.
“Let Tomy decide. She’s going too, isn’t she? She knows all the good places,” Kitty blurted, jumping to her feet.
“Yes, let Tomy decide.” Shona added.
Julia sighed. “All right, Tomy decides. Does she have tomorrow night off? Or is she baby sitting that old lady she takes care of?"
“She will be able to go. But we should not stay out too late.” Shona hopped off the bed and stood near Kitty. “Tomy is coming over early Tuesday morning with new lessons and then we are going to the library in the afternoon.”
“Oh! I want to go with you guys!” Kitty squeaked.
Julia ignored her blurt, and looked down her nose at the girls. “She is still coming tomorrow to finish up the equation sheets she’s had you working on?”
Shona nodded.
“Good. Call her, let her know what’s going on, then have her call me.” She spun on her heel and abruptly left the room.
Kitty flopped herself onto the bed. “Wow. What’s eating her?”
Shona looked at Kitty, her face emotionless, and shrugged. “I do not know, perhaps you should tell me. She is your sister.”
“Half sister,” Kitty corrected with a frown then looked to the doorway, her next words a whisper. “And sometimes I wonder if she’s even that.”
* * *
Julia left the Whittard’s house without a word. She drove down the hill to the city center faster than she should and didn’t care.
Kitty was getting close to the truth, too close. Julia thought it safe to let her so-called little sister befriend Shona, thinking Shona needed the social stimulus. As usual, she had been correct: Shona thrived when Kitty spent time with her, and her emotional behavior patterns became as close to normal as one could hope for with Shona.
She didn’t want to deprive Shona of what Kitty provided, yet she couldn’t risk her sister finding out the truth either. And what if the Whittards found out? No. That could never happen. She had covered her tracks too well. Each university had been well paid. There was no way Shona would have been accepted; she would belong to Julia until the right time came along.
And now was the right time. Julia downshifted around a corner and raced on.
And what of Tomy? Did she need the extra tutorial aide? What did she think of everything? But Tomy had only been tutoring Shona for five months. She couldn’t have put together anything that fast, and besides, until lately she only spent a day or two a week with Shona. Not enough time to be too nosy about things…
Julia tried to relax and slow the car down. Everything was risky now. She would have to be careful. She turned into a public parking lot, parked the car and got out. Her high heels clicked across the pavement as she made her way to the nearest building.
And what of Shona herself? She agreed with Kitty. What should she do about her? Perhaps it was again time to slip her some persuasive medication? Probably the best solution. Keep Shona controllable and submissive, tie her to more feelings of helplessness and dependence. Maybe even call on the extra help she’d hired before to keep the girl where she wanted her. Under control.
When the time was right, the controller would change. For now, she was the one holding all the power. As far as Julia Dawson was concerned, she owned Shona Whittard. And if she were double crossed, she could easily take and keep her to herself for a time, see how far the girl could go. If her suspicions were correct, she may even be able to sell Shona and her ‘talents’ to certain parties. She suspected Shona could do much more than sing.
Julia smiled as she imagined the furious bidding, then thought of something else. What if Shona was … no, it couldn't be. Julia suddenly stopped and stared at the front entrance of her destination. What if, she mused … just what if Shona was what she'd been searching for all this time?
But no. That would surely be impossible. And at this point Julia wasn't even sure of what it was she'd been so desperate to find. Her memories were all mixed up prior to the last twelve years. All thanks to a stupid accident. Julia shook herself. She couldn't afford to think about her past, most of which seemed lost to her. What she did need to think about was how Shona Whittard would benefit her. Julia's employer would see to that.
She smiled wickedly to herself as she entered the building and marched up to the front counter. A wiry little man with glasses too big for his face looked up at her from his perch atop a stool. “May I help you?”
“I want to send a telegram.” Julia spoke coldly.
The man peered at her through his glasses, not intimidated. “Oh, you like doing things the old fashioned way. You know there's talk about shutting this whole thing down? End of an era it is." He shook his head sadly and sighed. "Where to?”
“London, England.”
“All right, the charge per word…”
“I’m quite familiar with the cost. I’ve sent telegrams there before from this office.”
The man squinted at her. “Oh, I thought you looked familiar. Okay, shoot.”
Julia pulled a piece of paper out of her purse. “Here’s the name and address I want it sent to.”
The man scribbled it down. “And what would you like to say?”
She looked down her nose at him and smiled sadistically. “It’s a short message this time. Two words.”
He looked at her impatiently. “Yes?”
Julia smiled again, this time to herself. “The message is… ‘She’s ready.’”
* * *
“Do you need anything else, Mr. MacNab?”
Angus MacNab looked up from his small kitchen table to see Tomika Ashby, his mother’s part-time nurse. “Nay, lass, everything is fine. Ye can go on home if ye likes. I can manage things the rest o’ the day.”
Tomika, affectionately known as Tomy, turned to Mother MacNab sitting in her wheelchair in front of the television. “I’m leaving now, Mrs. MacNab!” She told the woman in a loud voice.
“Yer grieving? Whatever for?” the old lady barked back as she stared past Tomy to the wall beyond.
“Leaving!” Angus yelled. “She said she be leaving now!”
Mother MacNab turned toward her son’s voice. “Leaving?”
“Aye! Go back to yer box!” Angus told her, waving a hand at the television.
The old woman looked back to the TV, stared at it intently, leaned forward, and passed wind.
Tomy sighed, walked over to the TV and switched it on. “Better?” she yelled as she wrinkled her nose at the old woman.
Mother MacNab ignored her.
“Pay no mind, Tomy, she hasna been herself lately.”
Tomy sighed again and turned to leave. “I put your dinner in the refrigerator. All you have to do is heat it up later.”
“Ah, lass,” Angus beamed. “Ye didna ha’ to go through all that trouble. But, as ye did, I’ll ha’ to honor ye by eating every bite!”
Tomy smiled and winked at him. “See that you do. Make sure she eats all hers too, and don’t forget to give her that new medicine or she’ll keep you awake all night with that gas of hers.”
Angus nodded, grimacing at the thought. “Aye, I’ll see that I do.”
Tomy headed for the door.
“Ha’ ye any good news on yer other job? Ha’ they hired ye on for more hours?”
She turned back, disappointment on her pretty black face. “I don’t know what those people want. Shona and I get along fine. I don’t see why they don’t let me take over some of the othe
r subjects too. For now, it’s just math.”
Angus nodded. “Ah, will ye be getting to spend another play-day with the lass this week?”
“As a matter of fact, yes. Why do you ask?”
Angus shrugged. “I just think it nice ye gets to go out now and then, ha’ a wee bit o’ fun. Yer too young to work yer life away.” He smiled and waited for her reaction.
“Ain’t that the truth. Lord knows I need it!” She smiled back. “I can’t thank you enough for getting me that job. It’s been a blessing.”
Angus nodded and chuckled to himself. “Where might ye be off to this time?”
“To a place with dancing.”
“Dancing, ye say? Weel, that’s different.”
“Come to think of it, it is, isn’t it? Usually it’s some art exhibit. Julia wanted someplace that had music and I guess it was the first place that came to mind. I’m surprised she agreed. That woman don’t like much of anything I suggest.”
Angus leaned forward in his chair nodding and smiling at her, a knowing look on his face. “What sort o’ place is it?”
Tomy began to put on her sweater. “It’s called Stan’s. A country-western place. Live bands, D.J.’s, that sort of thing.” She picked up a small backpack, slung it over one shoulder and turned again to go.
Angus’s smile vanished, replaced by a face full of worry as he looked to the door. “And when might ye be going to this place? Do I need to gets help wi’ Mother?”
“Oh no, we’re going tomorrow night. I’m not here this Monday, remember?”
Angus smiled again and nodded. “Aye, I remember. Ye ha’ a good time then, lass.”
“I’m sure I will, even though we won’t be out that late. Shona and I have a lot of work to do Tuesday morning and want to spend some time at the library. It’s going to be a busy day!”
“Best ye makes the most of yer time out then.”
“Oh you can bet I will! See you later. Bye!” She left, closing the door softly behind her.
Angus sat back in his chair, ran a gnarled hand through his silver-gray hair and let go a weary sigh. He was getting too old for this. At age sixty-five he always thought he would be something other than what he was. But who was he to complain? He had his health, he had his mother, sans her hearing, both of them were well fed and clothed. Ten years ago he’d been cold, starving and had a noose about his neck. Angus shivered at the thought, then put it aside.
He got up and headed for the refrigerator. What a wonderful thing, refrigerators. Almost as wonderful as the microwave, though he was still leery when he used it. After living over a year in the small apartment, he thought he’d be comfortable with the various wonders surrounding him, but some things were still strange, like heating food in seconds instead of an hour. Unnatural. However, appetite sometimes had a way of convincing a person otherwise.
He carefully opened the microwave and placed a plate of spaghetti into it, closing one eye as he pressed the buttons, both eyes when he pressed start. The microwave whirred to life, and he sighed in relief. Once again, he’d lived; the microwave was cooking only the food and not him.
When the meal was heated he removed the plate and placed it on the table. He turned to his mother who sat watching the potted palm rather than the TV. “D’ye wants to eat?” He asked loudly.
She peered at the TV. “What’s wrong with his feet?”
“Eat! D’ye wants to eat?” Angus repeated, louder this time.
“Nay.” Her gaze wandered back to the plant.
Angus sighed and sat down at the table. The food in front of him looked and smelled wonderful. He breathed deeply of the spicy aroma before reaching for his fork. No one made spaghetti like Tomy! Well, not that he’d ever had anyone else’s. He began to dig in.
The lights flickered.
“The box! Dinna turn off the box!” His mother cried.
Disgusted, he put down his fork and got up to check the TV. “No one is going to turn off the box. The wind must be interfering with the electrical again.”
Mother MacNab said nothing and instead passed more wind of her own.
He grimaced and looked at the set. It was off. He turned it back on, wondering why it would shut down. He sat once more and returned to his meal.
The lights flickered again. The table began to shake.
“The box! Someone turned off the box!”
Angus ignored his mother’s cry and looked about nervously. He pulled his lower lip into his teeth a few times, a nervous tic, and glanced again around the apartment.
The clean dishes drying on the kitchen counter rattled, the light above the table swung and the table itself was walking away with his dinner.
“Ahhhhrrgg!” Angus screamed as he jumped to his feet. He raced for the dishes on the counter, put them into the sink where they’d be safer, ran to the table, grabbed his dinner and threw it into the refrigerator.
“The sky is falling!” Mother MacNab cried out woefully.
“I wish it were!” He grumbled as he hurriedly began to put anything breakable within reach out of sight. He stumbled into the living room and grabbed the kitchen table before it walked right over his mother, dragged it back to its corner and dove for the coffee table to catch a porcelain figurine of a Scottish dancer before it could crash to the floor. The whole apartment shook as if in an earthquake, but he knew well it was no earthquake.
Angus contemplated what to tell the neighbors this time when his face contorted with terror as he looked horrified across the room. “Me darling! Saints alive, I forgot me darling!” He raced across the room to rescue his most prized possession, an ancient, chipped and very badly stained teapot. His only possession from the past. He nearly fell over in his haste to reach his cherished treasure, grabbed it and clutched the teapot close to his chest.
He looked frantically at the walls and ceiling. “De’il take ye!” He shouted as he shook a fist at the wall in front of him. “Yer ruining me house ye de’il heathen!”
The room shook one final time before a piercing yellow light illuminated everything, outlining the various pieces of worn furniture as if an artist were tracing their lines.
Mother MacNab turned to the light, horrified. “It’s the English!”
Angus huddled in a corner, his teapot clutched tightly against him, face etched with dread. “Worse.”
The light broke, peeling away the outline of the furniture it had just drawn to reveal another source of light. Sunshine poured into Angus’s apartment from the direction of his bathroom as an entire wall of the room peeled away and disappeared, leaving in its wake the village of Genis Lee.
* * *
“Happy day to you, little bro-dar!” Kwaku sauntered out of the bright sunshine of Genis Lee and into Angus’s living room.
The grizzled old Scot moaned banefully and huddled farther into the corner.
“You are happy to see me, yes?” Kwaku chortled as he looked for a suitable spot to drop his baggage—namely, Dallan. He brightened as he saw what he was looking for, and unceremoniously dumped him, still unconscious, onto the floor near a window with a loud thud.
Angus closed his eyes, not wanting to see what remained of his fellow countryman, if anything.
“Mo-dar!” Kwaku bellowed happily at Mother MacNab.
Angus’s mother peered up at him through her thick glasses and loudly passed wind.
“Well, I see Mother is still having the same little health problem as on our last visit,” Lany commented dryly as he came through the doorway Zara had created at her husband’s command. He glanced at Angus who still had his eyes tightly shut.
“Might as well open them, Angus. Kwaku’s still here.” He turned to the large heap of Scot on the floor with a look of annoyance. “Living stars, Kwaku, there are beds in this house.”
Kwaku merely chuckled in response.
Angus opened an eye experimentally, grimaced at Kwaku, and then opened the other eye to see what remained of his living room. Not much; half was still there, the o
ther half was the southeastern side of Genis Lee. A man he’d never formally met, yet expected, stood in the warm sunshine looking very reluctant.
“Hurry, Lord Councilor. My pretty one tires,” Kwaku laughed as he began to walk toward the time doorway.
John Eaton took a deep breath and stepped into the living room. Zara, her strength nearly gone, followed.
“My beloved,” Kwaku spoke concerned as he rushed to her side, catching her before she could fall and immediately spoke to her in Azurti.
“Is she all right?” Lany asked, worry in his own voice.
Kwaku scooped his wife up in his arms and headed for a tiny hallway near the front door as Genis Lee faded from sight. “She is tired. I will take care of her.” He disappeared into one of the bedrooms.
“How about you, Eaton? You okay?”
John looked sheepishly at his assistant. “Fine.”
“First time through did the same to me, too. Second time’s not so bad.” Lany bent to Dallan, took one of his wrists and checked for any sign of a pulse as Kwaku reentered the room.
Angus watched Lany, an odd look of confirmation forming on his face, and nodded to himself. “Kilt him already, have ye?” He muttered to Kwaku. “Hmmph! Knew he wouldn’t last!” Disgusted, he headed for the kitchen.
“Kwaku,” John began. “I want to get started immediately. Is Zara all right? Will she be able to come with us?”
Kwaku chuckled as he looked around the apartment expectantly. “We do not need her as yet, Lord Councilor. She needs to rest for now. I will not allow her out. Too dangerous.” He made a direct path for a small china cabinet tucked in a corner near the TV.
“Dangerous? What do you mean, dangerous?”
Kwaku opened the cabinet and began to rifle through the mismatched assortment of plates, cups, bowls and odd collectables, obviously searching for something. “She is not strong enough now to help us tonight. Or tomorrow.” He turned to John, a triumphant look on his face as he pulled out a long tin candy box and took off the lid.
“When will she be ready?” John asked, ignoring the sweet smells coming from the box.
Time Masters Book One; The Call (An Urban Fantasy, Time Travel Romance) Page 15