Ascension

by C J M Naylor

  Henry nodded. "But Elisabeth, I want to help you. You have to let me help you."

  She smiled at him. "You've done enough, and I'm forever grateful."

  "At least let me get you to New York," he said. "I will pay your travel, get you away from here and help you find a place to settle down, and then maybe you can find work."

  Elisabeth shook her head. "I couldn't ask you to do that."

  "Please," Henry said, "I need to do this for you."

  Initially, Elisabeth declined, but after further insistence from Henry, she finally relented. The following morning, Henry traveled with Elisabeth to New York City, helping her find a new home, a place where she could start fresh, and then he left her with the promise she would update him on how she was doing. And Elisabeth moved forward, trying for the first time in her life, to put the past behind her.

  Part Three

  Sacrifice

  December 1944

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Hours had passed since Abigail had curled up in the bedroom provided by her mother and started reading the diary. Thomas didn't interrupt her. He knew she needed this time to herself—this time to finally learn about the mother that had sacrificed everything for her. And it was during this time he too was thinking about his birth mother, because there was something he hadn't told Abigail, something that had happened during the night.

  When Abby had been fast asleep beside him, he had broken away to use the bathroom. And it was then that he had overheard all of their parents—Mathias, Elisabeth, and Henry—talking in the kitchen, under the assumption everyone else in the flat was fast asleep. Thomas was no eavesdropper. He respected individual's privacy and expected others to provide him with the same courtesy. But when he heard his name, he couldn't resist.

  "Does Abigail know about Thomas' mother?" he had heard Elisabeth ask.

  "Why would she need to know about his mother?" Mathias had responded.

  "Mathias," Elisabeth said, "surely you've seen the way they look at each other."

  "Are you suggesting they are more than friends?"

  "You baffle me," Elisabeth said laughing. "You always miss what's right in front of you."

  "Regardless," Mathias said, "why would I say anything? Henry didn't want his son to know, so I respected those wishes and kept that knowledge to myself. But perhaps it is time to tell the boy, Henry."

  "It would crush him," Henry said. "He's always been so down on himself. Your girl, well, she's changed him. I've only seen them together for a few days now, but the change is evident. How can I possibly tell Thomas his birth mother is Bessie Watson?"

  Thomas had made a beeline straight for the bathroom at that point, carefully opening the door and closing it behind him. He had found himself clutching desperately at the counter in the bathroom, looking at himself in the mirror. That woman, that monster, was his mother? She had given birth to him?

  And then he began putting two and two together. He had always been somewhat of a player. Did he get that from her? Was he destined to become insane? Would he hurt Abigail? His father hadn't been lying. The knowledge did crush him. Almost completely.

  Thomas had turned and bent over the toilet at that point, throwing up his dinner at the thought of that woman being his mother. He had stayed in there a good long while before returning to the bedroom he shared with Abigail and curling up beside her, attempting to fall asleep and forget about what he had just learned.

  And here he stood now, in the living room, looking out the window of Elisabeth's flat, desperately wanting to go into the bedroom and talk to Abigail about it. She would know what to say, surely. But what would she think when he told her his mother had been the one responsible for murdering her aunt? What would she think of him? Would she even want to continue whatever relationship they had growing between them? The questions floated endlessly in his mind as he took a sip from the mug of tea he was holding.

  "Alright, Tommy?"

  Oliver's hand slapped Thomas on the back and he turned to look at his friend.

  "I'm fine."

  Oli raised an eyebrow. "You don't seem fine."

  "Oli, I—" he hesitated, unsure of what to say, "—I found out something about my birth mother. Something that concerns Abigail."

  "Funny you should bring that up," Oliver said. "Back when we were in Cripple Creek she found me up one night looking at old photos. I showed her a picture of your birth mother. She kind of acted like she knew her."

  Thomas' insides felt like they were freezing up at Oliver's words. Abigail had seen a picture of his birth mother, and she would've known it was Bessie. She knew. He had seen this picture before, but he didn’t know it was Bessie he was looking at. And she had kept it from him. Why would she do that? Was she disgusted by him? He knew that their relationship was still new, but he felt he had a right to know something like this as soon as she found out about it. It almost felt as if she had betrayed him.

  "Tommy?"

  Oliver's voice broke him from his thoughts and he looked back at his friend.

  "Yes?"

  "You sure you're okay, buddy?" Oliver asked. "You look like you're going to be sick."

  Thomas shook his head. "I'm not okay. I just need to be alone."

  He walked to the coatrack by the door, grabbed his coat, and put it on. Then he pulled open the door and walked toward the stairs. He needed to get some air.

  The diary sat open on my lap for a long while after I finished reading it. I had gone into a bit of a trance, staring out ahead of me, thinking of the words my mother had written on these pages. I knew everything there was to know about her life until my birth, and even a little after. The letters from Henry would serve as her telling me what she did after my birth—what she had been doing for the last nineteen years. But I didn't want to read them. I knew now I would put them away and let her tell me the stories herself. When this was all over—when we could finally be together—we would spend hours talking about all of the things I had missed about her life.

  And I would tell her about mine. About my parents, Annette and Dean, and how I missed them every single day—how I wished, so desperately, I could go back and save them from the war that took them from me. I would tell my mother all of these things about my life, and then we could be together. Mathias and Elisabeth would never replace my parents, but they would be there for me, and I knew my parents would want that.

  Knock. Knock. Knock.

  I looked up. "Come in."

  The door opened and Oliver stood in the doorway, and the look on his face told me something had gone terribly wrong. I was out of the bed and across the room before he could say anything, the diary left open behind me.

  "Oliver? What's wrong?"

  Oliver blinked a couple of times, as if he wasn't sure where he was, before he finally spoke.

  "I didn't realize that Thomas' mother was that—that woman."

  Bessie.

  "How did you know?" I asked him.

  "Thomas overheard Henry and your parents talking about it last night," he said.

  My heart began racing. That was why Thomas had looked off this morning. He had found out the truth about his birth mother.

  "Where is he?" I asked, pushing past Oliver and into the hallway.

  When I walked out into the living room, it was empty. No trace of Thomas. Alma walked out of her bedroom and looked between Oliver and me.

  "Is everything okay?"

  I shook my head and looked back at Oliver.

  "What happened?"

  "Abigail," he said, "I'm so sorry. I didn't know Thomas didn't know you had looked at that picture of his birth mother. He knows you've been keeping it from him."

  My heart came to a complete stop. He had found out I had kept this from him. I had kept something so personal from him, so as not to hurt him, but ended up making it worse anyway. I looked back at Oliver.

  "Where did he go? Oliver?"

  Oliver shook his head. "He just said he needed to be alone."

  You're
so vulnerable, Melanie said inside my head. And now Thomas is mine.

  "No," I said to the room. "She has him."

  I ran across the room, grabbed my coat from the rack, and pulled open the door.

  "Abby!" I heard Oliver and Alma say behind me, but I ignored them.

  Thomas needed me.

  The events of San Francisco were following them. Thomas could feel the drop in temperature that had taken place overnight as he walked the streets of Paris, his hands tucked in his pockets. But the cold was, surprisingly, not bothering him. His mind was elsewhere. It was on the fact that Abigail had kept this from him. It was on the fact that his father had kept this from him. That is his mother was a woman who had murdered a person, maybe even more than one person for all he knew.

  Thomas stood on the Pont Alexandre III, looking at the Eiffel Tower. He hadn't imagined he would be in Paris with the world potentially ending. He knew the elite few who would survive this would create a world that wasn't worth living in. And to him, that was the end of the world.

  "Thomas."

  He turned and saw Abigail walking up behind him, her hands also tucked away in the pockets of her coat, which was a slightly different shade of blue then what he had remembered it. He looked away and back at the Eiffel Tower.

  "Did Oliver tell you?"

  "Yes."

  She was behind him now, placing her hand on his shoulder, forcing him to turn his head and look down at her, into her eyes. And he could tell now it wasn't her.

  "Melanie."

  A smile crept onto Melanie's lips. A smile that didn't fit the face of the girl he loved.

  "Perhaps your relationship with my sister is a bit more serious than I previously thought?"

  "I love her," Thomas said. "Do you honestly think I wouldn't be able to recognize the girl I love?"

  Melanie cocked her head to the side. "Love is such an archaic idea. I don't really believe in it."

  "You should," Thomas said, looking around now to investigate his surroundings and assess the gravity of the situation he had found himself in.

  "There's nowhere to go," Melanie said softly.

  And she wasn't lying. From one end of the bridge came Lucinda, in no particular hurry, and from the other end, came Headrick. He was sure Ian was close by.

  "What do you want?" Thomas asked.

  "You," Melanie responded. "Abigail needs a little push to give herself up. And for you, she will."

  Thomas shook his head. "You don't understand her at all. She sacrificed her fiancé, knowing the world wouldn't survive if she didn't. She would do the same thing for me. She's strong and doesn't need me to get through this."

  "Perhaps," Melanie said, "but the world isn't at stake here. She'll come up with a plan to get you back and to save humanity at the same time. She'll come for you."

  "Thomas!"

  Thomas turned at the sound of Abigail's voice. She was approaching from the end of the bridge where Headrick stood. But then Melanie held her hand up next to his face and everything went dark.

  Thomas was on the bridge as I approached, but so was Melanie. And Headrick was blocking the way, her back to me.

  "Thomas!" I shouted.

  He turned his head to look at me and then Melanie used her powers to knock him on unconscious. He slumped to the ground at her feet as Lucinda walked past, making her way to my end of the bridge.

  "More people are going to be hurt, Abigail," she said as she approached. "This can all end if you come with me now. We will let Thomas go."

  "Come with us."

  It was Ian. He was behind her. She turned to see him approaching with Aldridge.

  "Stay away from me," I said.

  "It really doesn't matter now, does it?" Lucinda asked. "You're outnumbered. Are you really going to resist?"

  And then there was a loud, booming sound and the earth began to shake. It was an earthquake and the bridge began to vibrate, causing everyone to lose balance.

  "Forgive me," I whispered, turning on my heel and surprising Ian by pushing him down.

  "Stop her!" Lucinda shouted.

  But they couldn't. I was running and, before long, I was off the bridge. It separated from my end, creating a gap between the bridge and the street. They couldn't get to me, but I kept running and running and running back toward my mother's apartment. We had to leave. Now.

  The only thing going through my mind as I ran was the fact that I had failed again. I had failed Thomas. And I was out of time, with no way to contact my mother. The world was closing in on me, and I wasn't ready for it. And then, because I was vulnerable, Melanie broke through once again.

  You have twenty-four hours, she said in my mind. After that, he's dead.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Once I had made it back to my mother's apartment, the temperature had dropped tremendously and it had begun to snow. We were running out of time. And now I only had twenty-four hours until Thomas was dead. This had to end now. And my mother needed to help me end it.

  "Abby," Oliver, Alma, and Perrine said together as I entered the flat, closing the door behind me.

  "They have him," I said. "They have Thomas. And they are giving me twenty-four hours to come to them."

  "But we don't know where the Headquarters is," Alma said. "How can we stop this and turn back time? There's no way for us to get in."

  "Lucinda needs me there to finish all of this," I said. "That much I know. We need to use that to my advantage."

  "But your mother," Oliver said, "we have no idea where she is. We need her."

  "I know, but she'll know. We have some sort of connection that I've yet to understand, but I know she'll know it's time."

  Alma and Oliver looked at each other, unsure whether any of this was going to work. Perrine stood in the background looking confused about it all. I knew it was all still new to her. Finally, Alma looked back at me.

  "What's your plan then?"

  I looked to Perrine. "I need you to turn me in."

  Perrine's eyes went wide. "I can't do that."

  "Yes, you can," I said. "I know we don't know each other very well, but you chose our side when you helped Thomas. And I'm thankful for that. But they don't know that yet. If you bring me in to the Paris Headquarters, then Headrick can take me to Lucinda. And from there, well, hopefully I can stall long enough to give my mother time to get there."

  For a moment, I thought she was going to refuse again, but she nodded.

  I looked to all of them now.

  "We don't have much time," I said. "I'm going to get some rest and we will go tomorrow. The three of you will need to be prepared to follow us, wherever we go. Perrine will have to be observant after she turns me in. I'm sure Headrick will use the Time Line to take me where we need to go in Ireland. And from there, things will move quickly."

  Perrine looked to Alma and Oliver.

  "I can sneak you both in," she said. "We may need to doctor your appearance a bit since they know you’re with us and you’re wanted, but it should be pretty simple. Timekeepers have always been a bit too trusting anyway."

  I couldn't even begin to express how true that statement was. I let the three of them stay in the living room to hash out the details and made my way to the bedroom Thomas and I had stayed in. I curled up in the bed and pulled the pillow he had slept on close to me, letting his lingering scent engulf my senses. I would get him back. I had to keep holding on to that.

  "It's the only way."

  Elisabeth looked from Mathias to Henry. After telling them the entire truth, she felt as if she were the worst person on the planet. Perhaps it was true. Her life had been a series of ups and downs in which she had focused only on herself. The only thing she had ever cared about, had shown complete selflessness for, had been her children. And what she was asking of the men in front of her now, she couldn't even fathom how it would be forgivable.

  Mathias put his face in his hands. Henry looked around the room as if he might be ill.

  "I'm so sorry," Elisabet
h said. "The fact that I'm asking this of both of you, after everything I've put you both through, is unforgivable. But I'm thinking of our children and their future now. And this is the only way I can make sure they have the future they truly deserve."

  "I'll do it."

  Elisabeth looked at Henry. He had spoken clearly and his eyes were dead-set on her now.

  "I never stopped loving you, Elisabeth."

  She closed her eyes and nodded at Henry's comments. The evening Mathias had returned to her, she'd let him know the truth. That she had fallen in love with another man, but that she still loved him as fiercely as the day they married. And he had held her and accepted that, and for the first time in years, they had shared a bed together.

  Henry looked over at Mathias.

  "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to change the topic of this conversation."

  Mathias put his hand on Henry's shoulder.

  "It's fine. She's told me and it's alright. And you know I will always love you Elisabeth, and I will do this. For you. For our children. For Henry's son."

  Elisabeth smiled and then fell forward on the table and began to convulse. The two men looked at each other, concern drawn on their faces, but they didn't interfere. They knew she was having a premonition. A few moments passed, and finally Elisabeth's eyes opened,/ and she sat back up.

  "What is it?" Henry asked. "What did you see?"

  She looked back and forth again between the two of them.

  "It's almost time," she said.

  Elisabeth placed both of her hands, palms up, on the table. The men she loved placed their hands in hers and they sat like that, the three of them together, for quite a while.

  Sleeping was difficult without Thomas by my side. I tossed and turned throughout the night, occasionally waking up from a nightmare, only to turn to Thomas for comfort and find the other side of the bed empty. How had I come to care for him so completely and then proceed to hide the truth from him? I knew I kept it secret because I cared for him, because I didn't want to see him get hurt, but I had still hurt him in the process. And there was nothing I could do to fix it. He was gone.