Witch's Wheel

by Abby L. Vandiver

  “We’ll use those wheels to fix you,” Calayiah made the statement with a curt nod.

  Teagan looked at her. “You mean to fix the watch?”

  “Isn’t that what I said?” Calayiah said cocking her head to the side.

  “Here’s how we keep time,” Lybbestre said taking back the conversation. She pointed to the first piece she’d set out. “This is the center wheel. It carries the minute hand.” Moving her finger to the next gear, she continued her lesson. “This is the third wheel. And this next one is called the fourth wheel. It carries the second hand.” She gazed up at Teagan ensuring that he was listening.

  “The teeth in each wheel are used to move the next wheel – we like to say that they are the like the transmission of the watch – moving the hands by using the energy stored by the stem.” Lybbestre continued. “But these two, at least for us,” she looked out the corner of eye at her sister, “are the most important.”

  “Are they?” Teagan said.

  “Yes.” Lybbestre’s voice was patient. “They are. This one is the escape wheel. And this one,” she said and pointed to the last piece she’d laid out, “is the balance wheel.” She picked up a silver, slender pick-like object and used it to give the gear a push. “See how it swings back and forth like a pendulum?” No response came from Teagan. “It regulates time,” she finished.

  “Time,” Calayiah said and repeated it again. “Time.”

  “Yes.” Lybbestre nodded. “Time. And, you may find this interesting,” she seemed to be enjoying her dissertation. “The balance wheel is what makes the ticking sound that you hear in a watch.” Her eyes, for the first time, sparkled as brightly as her sister’s.

  Teagan blew out a breath. “Wow. Yeah. I don’t find that interesting at all.”

  “Well you should,” Calayiah said. “It’s very important.” She pressed her lips together.

  “Yes,” Lybbestre said. “And the balance wheel, just like light, must run at a constant speed for it to work. Never more. Never less.”

  “To ensure accuracy,” Calayiah said

  “Like light?” Teagan said repeating Lybbestre’s words, he was becoming bewildered at the offbeat conversation.

  “The speed of light,” Calayiah said. “You’ve heard of it?”

  “Of course,” Teagan said. “But what does repairing the watch have to do with the speed of light?”

  “Light always moves at the same speed,” Calayiah said.

  “I 0nly used it as an analogy,” Lybbestre said. “So you could understand.”

  “There is a difference between the two, though,” Calayiah said. “The speed of light never changes, but, time? Well it’s relative. Your watch,” she pointed to the pieces spread out on the table, “will keep a different time according to how fast it’s moving. Did you know that a clock sent out to space kept time differently than clocks that were here on Earth?”

  “No I didn’t know,” Teagan said and wanted to add that he didn’t care.

  “That’s how it was discovered that clocks keep time according to how fast their moving, although we already knew that,” Calayiah said.

  “You’re digressing, Layah,” Lybbestre said.

  “Yes, well what I wanted to say was so does your watch. It does the same thing. It will keep a different time when it’s moving.”

  “Yes, you’ve said that.”

  “Have I?” Calayiah said.

  “Interesting fact, but my watch doesn’t move on its own.”

  Calayiah laughed. “How fast the person wearing it is moving is what I meant.”

  Teagan opened his mouth to speak, but closed it again, unable to think of anything to add to the strange conversation.”

  “And it can slow down,” Lybbestre said adding her explanation to her sister’s. “Time that is. And eventually, if the watch, attached to someone,” she eyed Calayiah, “is moving fast enough, it can escape the confines of time all together.”

  “Wh-What?” Teagan said getting thoroughly confused and frustrated.

  “And if a watch moves really fast,” Calayiah said and smiled. “It loses time.”

  They both looked at Teagan, satisfied that they had made their point. He stuck his hands in his pants pocket, and took in a breath, blowing it out hastily, Teagan moved his eyes from one sister to the other and decided he wanted out of there.

  “How about if I just take the watch back,” Teagan said and moved his hand back and forth across the pieces of the watch. “Don’t even worry about putting it back together. Put it in a bag or something. I’ll find someone downtown to fix it, right after I hire a new assistant.”

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Lybbestre said.

  “And why is that?” Teagan asked haughtily.

  “Because, Mr. Bales, even as we speak, you’re losing time.”

  Chapter Five

  Those familiar words, spoken by a woman he’d never met, ripped through him and struck his heart.

  They were the words from his dreams.

  You’re losing time . . .

  They were common words, certainly. A common saying even. But those words that had been taunting him he had never shared with anyone. And this woman speaking them had somehow taken all the unrest of the animation of his dreams and brought it to life.

  “What did you say?” Teagan asked, his voice cracking.

  “About what?” Lybbestre looked uncertain of what Teagan meant.

  “Just now. What did you say?” He held onto the table. His tough exterior felt like it had been punctured with holes and all of his strength was oozing out.

  “You’re losing time,” Calayiah repeated Lybbestre’s words. She said them like she knew the words had been haunting him. “My sister was saying that you won’t want to wait any longer to get the repairs done. But not to worry, as I’ve told you, we can fix you.”

  “Fix me,” he whispered the words. His gaze drifted off as he thought about his nightmares, and the anguish he’d been feeling, and he wondered was it even possible to make him better.

  “Isn’t there somewhere you have to be?” Calayiah asked.

  Teagan sucked in a big breath as if he was gulping air to bring life back into his body, then turned his attention to Calayiah. “How do you know?”

  “Look at you,” she said and pointed.

  Teagan looked down at himself, then ran his hand down the front of his tuxedo. “Yes. I do.” He looked at the sisters and down at his grandmother’s watch. “The brooch . . .” he said not quite sure what to do about it.

  “We’ll have it ready for you in a couple of days,” Calayiah said.

  He nodded his approval, and still with some hesitation, Teagan left the watch with the sisters at the shop. Not running into any cats, he stumbled out of the door the blare of the sun in his eyes, and wondered what had just transpired.

  Charles, coming around to open the car door, noticed the daze-like look on his face. “Are you okay?” he asked.

  “I’m fine,” Teagan said. “Let’s just go.”

  Teagan climbed into the back of the car and thought about those women.

  She said she could fix “him,” when it was the watch he’d brought in for repair. But he did need fixing. What if in some way they could help, Teagan thought, and tried to use that to reconcile himself with the fact that he’d left his grandmother’s brooch with them.

  Then he shook it off. “How crazy was that?” He said the words out loud.

  “Excuse me, sir.” Charles looked at him through the rearview mirror. “Did you say something to me?”

  “No. Charles. I was just ruminating out loud.”

  Charles gave a semblance of a smile, and put his eyes back on the road.

  As Teagan watched the houses and people pass by, he let the thoughts of the watch shop and it owners drift to the back of his mind as the nervousness about tonight’s fundraiser took over.

  He had wanted it to be like the one’s his grandmother used to give. Classy. Successful. But he’d
done all the planning for it through Caroline and over the phone.

  What had I been thinking?

  Skype, assistants, and emails had made making the arrangements easier for him not to make an appearance, even though the plans were being made only a few miles away. Teagan, wanting to distance himself not only from the house, but the finality of it all, prepared for it as if he’d been a thousand miles away.

  And in addition to Caroline taking care of the event planning, there had been Yvonne Giordano. The soon-to-be owner of the Gabrisette House and vineyard, had called him daily to report how things were going. He smiled thinking about the woman. Maybe selling to her had been a good thing.

  Maybe the only good thing out of everything in his life at the moment.

  “Your father would have been proud.” His Uncle Teddy’s words came to mind, and Teagan appreciated the acknowledgment. He smiled to himself, in agreement with his uncle’s estimation.

  So maybe that’s two good things to come out of it, Teagan thought.

  His father hadn’t ever cared about the vineyard or the winery, the love for it, as his father had often said, skipped a generation. He had gotten a degree in business, and travelled the world living the term “globalization” before it had ever been coined. And, he had let his mother teach Teagan everything she knew about winemaking, never finding fault in anything Olivia did in raising him.

  Stuart had not only been proud of his son, but of the relationship the boy had with his mother. And then not wanting to push anything on his young son, after Olivia died, Stuart Bales, didn’t try to encourage his son not to give up his legacy at Gabrisette House after Teagan refused to show further interest in it.

  It was hard a first, Teagan admitted that, giving up what he loved. But he’d been too heartbroken to continue. And his father, being abandoned by a wife he adored, understood about pains of the heart. Stuart Bales always taught Teagan to stand his ground and do what he believed best, and Teagan loved him for that.

  And that was what stayed with Teagan after his father died during his first year in college. A plane crash on the way to one of his business meetings. And at eighteen, with no more family left, Teagan decided that the things that had been a family legacy had become moot. So, heeding the lesson of his father, selling the House and vineyard, even though it plagued his subconscious, Teagan concluded was the best thing to do.

  Charles pulled up to the circular driveway to Teagan’s grandmother’s house. The gardens weren’t as vibrant, the lawn not as lush, the house a little older, but other than that, it looked the same as the last time Teagan had been there.

  Charles opened the driver’s side door preparing to get out. “Don’t, Charles,” Teagan said. “I got it.”

  Teagan opened his own door and got out of the car. He stood there for a long moment. Closing his eyes, he counted to ten. Opening them, he drew in a breath and looked up at the house.

  A stately, sprawling brick colonial revival style mansion with the front expansion having a loggia over the entrance, a patio, and columned porches on the sides stared back at him. It had been his childhood home, one he could get lost in. It still seemed just as elusive.

  It wouldn’t be much longer now, and he’d be free of the nagging memories. He’d be able to let everything go. Methodically putting one foot in front of the other, he strolled up the steps of the walkway, through one of the three arches that led to the large double doors. Placing his hand on the handle, he blew out a pent up breath.

  “Let’s get this over with,” he said with a curt nod of determination.

  And as he pushed open the door, a white cat came from behind it, scurried in between his legs, and ran out the house.

  “Where’d you come from?” Teagan murmured, turning to watch the cat. And as if it had heard him, the cat turned back and looked at Teagan, its green eyes sparkling.

  “What is it with all the green-eyed cats?”

  Still holding onto the handle, he watched as the cat spun around and scampered across the lawn.

  Teagan made a mental note to speak to the House Manager. She should know that no cats were allowed on the grounds – an old tradition at the house, his grandmother’s allergies couldn’t tolerate the feral creature.

  Actually, it won’t matter much longer, Teagan thought. The house won’t be mine.

  “Maybe I just won’t mention it,” he mumbled to himself. For all Teagan knew, Yvonne Giordano, the new owner, might like cats.

  Teagan turned back around to go into the house but when he stepped forward it felt as if a wall of blackness smacked him in his face, instinctively he tried to pull away, instead it sucked him in. A loud ticking sound started in his ear, and he seemed to fall through the darkness, then knocked into a whirlwind of kaleidoscopic colors, he felt himself spinning.

  Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick . . .

  He couldn’t find his footing. He held his arms out to try and balance himself.

  Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick . . .

  He felt his stomach flip over and something pushed hard into his chest knocking the wind out of him. His eyes started to water and he could feel his heart beating in his ears.

  Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock . . .

  Something sizzled and popped and a spark jolted through his body as if he’d stuck his finger in an electrical socket, and then suddenly, all went still.

  Tick. Tock.

  The ticking in his ears slowed and the dizziness that twirled around in his head started to ease. He shut his eyes.

  Tick.

  One hand out to keep from falling, he placed the other on his stomach.

  Tock.

  And then the feeling was gone. Completely dissipated.

  Opening his eyes, he turned to look back at the front door to see what he had gone through him. Then turning back, his eyes searched for a place to sit so that he could steady himself. But taking only one step forward, his whole body froze in place. He couldn’t believe who he saw in front of him.

  Grandmother.

  Chapter Six

  Teagan closed his eyes and counted to ten. He tried to control his breathing, and still his racing heart. Something had just happened to him, and trying to rectify it in his mind made him queasy.

  Did I have a heart attack?

  He placed his hand over his heart.

  Maybe a stroke?

  Something had definitely affected his state of being. And he was seeing things.

  “Open your eyes,” someone seemed to whisper to him.

  He opened them.

  And there she was. His grandmother, standing right in front of him

  How could this be? he thought.

  Olivia Grafton-Bales stood by the staircase, her blonde hair swept up into a small bunch of pinned curls, soft tendrils framed her face. Her small, turned up nose, thin lips covered in soft pink, and spoon-shaped frame was full of life.

  Teagan smiled. He hadn’t remembered how beautiful his grandmother had been.

  She stood talking to her chef, Viktor Gustov, going over notes for the gala. A much younger Gustov stood in front of Teagan, it was the same man who had prepared food for the afternoon’s gala that he was attending.

  But how did they get here?

  Standing in the middle of the foyer, he swung around and took in the room. And he knew where he was. When he was.

  The house looked exactly as it did when his grandmother was alive. They hadn’t traveled to him, he had gone to them.

  How was that possible?

  The grand staircase and its ornate banister, was polished and shining just as his grandmother insisted. The red and gold motif carpet runner still looked new. He looked to his side and saw that he stood next to the big, round African black wood table that his father had gifted to his grandmother. And on it was an over-sized vase of Black Prince snapdragons, bi-color gladiolas, and pink Peruvian lilies - his grandmother’s favorites. A detail he’d forgotten to tell Caroline when they planned for his gala. No. Even though he hadn�
�t been there in years, he knew this place, and it wasn’t the one that existed today.

  It seems to have more of my grandmother’s touch.

  He let his eyes drift back over to her. Watching her graceful movements, the curl of her lip as she smiled, and how she patted a strand of hair back into place, caused a warm feeling to spread over him. His shoulders relaxed, and he, in an instant, felt different. He wasn’t sure how. Maybe alive? Renewed? Happy?

  That’s what it was.

  Happy.

  She was dressed in an elegant satin, teal blue sheath evening gown that shimmered as she moved. The matching bolero jacket was encrusted with gems along the neckline and border. And pinned to it was her brooch. The one he’d just taken to have repaired . . .

  And then it hit him.

  It felt like something had punched him in his stomach, and he nearly gagged on the bile that raced up into his throat.

  That gown was what she wore the night she died.

  Oh. No.

  The accident.

  Unable now to take his eyes off of her, Teagan tried to cross the other half of the large foyer. Frantic footsteps on the marble floor echoed in his ear, yet he didn’t seem to be moving forward. Then his legs grew heavy, and even using all the strength he could muster, he couldn’t move them.

  But he had to get to her.

  In his desperation, his heart picked up its pace, and the uneasiness in his stomach grew in intensity and started to churn.

  He had to warn her.

  Emotions flooded his being from head to toe, his vision was blurred, and the noises around him seemed as if they were underwater. Feelings overwhelmed him and just then, his strength gave out, and his knees buckled. But before he fell, it seemed someone caught hold of his right arm, bringing him upright, and holding him steady. Then support from the left.

  As his head cleared, Teagan heard her voice.

  “Hello,” she said.

  He tried to open his mouth to speak.

  “Hello?” she said again, concern in her voice.

  “Grandmother,” he said, but was unsure if she heard him. He tried to say it again, but nothing came out.