The Watcher

by Heather Kindt

  Laney threw the journal down on the bed and covered her face with her hands. Unbelievable! He had left before talking to her. He was driven, but they were supposed to be a team. She had to find a way to stop him, but in her persona as Anne, she would travel too slowly to catch up. Red Coats could be dangerous. She picked up the journal again, tapped her pen against the paper, and struggled to think of some way to stop him. Missy’s silver anklet shimmered in the light and sent the words to her.

  William quickened his pace, hearing a horse on the roadway. He traveled deeper into the woods. The log appeared before he knew it was there and caught his foot at the ankle. He fell to the ground, unable to get up.

  She didn’t want to intentionally hurt William, but the injury would slow him down. Laney closed the notebook, went to brush her teeth and put on the t-shirt and shorts she wore for pajamas.

  While she brushed, she thought about sending William’s father, a doctor, past on his wagon. He could take him back to the house and help him heal. This gave her time to find Brian and enter the book before William got himself into any more trouble.

  Missy stretched out on her bed, reading again when Laney came back into the room. Her suitcase lay half-empty on the floor, so she removed another sweater to hang in the closet. Near the bottom, she found the only picture she had of William.

  A photographer snapped the shot at the winter formal dance last year, and she kept it on her nightstand all summer. He looked amazing in his tuxedo with his light brown hair tied back, revealing his deep green eyes. She ran her finger over his picture, feeling guilty about hurting his ankle. She placed the frame on her desk.

  Snuggling down under her comforter, she picked up the journal and thumbed through the pages to where she left off.

  William pulled up his pant leg, checking his ankle. It appeared sprained but not broken. He rested his back against a tree, elevating his foot on a rock before he removed his map from his sack. ‘Only three more miles to Concord,’ he thought. He could make it by nightfall.

  “What?” The word came out, and Laney quickly covered her mouth with her hand.

  “What’s the matter?” Missy looked up from her book. “Can I read that when you’re done? It must be good.” She turned back to her story without waiting for any kind of response.

  Apparently, it was going to take more than a bum ankle to stop William’s stubborn streak. Laney’s thoughts turned to the one person who might be able to help her, but also might put William in even greater danger.

  Chapter 3

  The lecture hall for Ancient World History class was half full when Laney walked down the steps on Monday morning. Because Madison was a liberal arts college, students were required to take four credits of social sciences, and from the size of the room, it was apparent that ancient history was a hot topic.

  About five rows down, she found a seat and placed her backpack in the chair to her right. When she glanced at the clock, she still had fifteen minutes before class started, so she reached for her notebook to see if William made it to Concord.

  “Do you mind if I sit here?” It was Jason’s friend, Nick, from the lacrosse team. She wasn’t even sure if he recognized her, because they only talked a couple of times last year.

  Laney shoved the notebook back into her bag and set it on the floor. She patted the empty seat with her hand. “Not at all.”

  Nick sat down and dumped his bag in the walkway, close to his seat. Chancing a glance at him, he wore glasses, and his dark hair poked out in a similar way to her father’s. Maybe he rolled out of bed five minutes ago. His nose was slightly crooked. Did he have a run-in with a lacrosse stick, or was it a natural deficiency?

  “You’re Laney, right?” His attention focused on her and away from the phone in his hand.

  “Yeah. And you’re Nick, the ruler of the lacrosse field.” Although Jason Harrison made the school paper after every game last year, Nick could hold his own.

  “Actually, I prefer to go by Nick.” He blushed, tapping his finger on the side of his phone. The coloring on his cheeks reminded Laney of how different he was from his teammates Jason and Shawn, who both had loved the spotlight.

  “I’ll try to remember that.”

  He didn’t seem as easy to talk to as Jason, but he had a natural way about him like she could be at peace just sitting by his side.

  The professor stomped in at that moment, and Laney understood why the lecture hall was almost filled to capacity. He wore full Viking garb, carried an ax in his hand, and under his helmet, he had a full head of long blond hair. A series of giggles rose from the girls sitting up front.

  After throwing his ax into one of the sidewalls of the stage, the professor removed his helmet letting his long locks flow free like a bundle of golden silk. The gasping in the front nauseated Laney, more than his theatrics. She felt like a fourth-grader that needed to be entertained in order to learn, and Fabio wasn’t helping fuel any love for ancient history.

  When Professor Fabio finished his Viking brawl with two boys from the class, he dismissed them, assigning the first chapter of the textbook for homework. Laney grabbed her backpack. The textbook was the only place learning would occur in this class.

  Nick stood at the doorway when she reached the top of the stairs. “Can I walk you to your next class?”

  Laney caught a glimpse of shyness in his eyes, and he kept staring over her shoulder instead of at her. Maybe he didn’t talk to girls he barely knew on a regular basis. “I want to ask you about something.”

  “Sure.” What did he want to know?

  Nick fell into step next to her as she continued to trudge down the hall, weighed down by their history class. He stood three or four inches taller than her, and his body was much slimmer than Shawn’s, or even Jason’s.

  “Do you think Jason committed suicide?” His question hit her by surprise, like cold water thrown in her face.

  They broke away from the crowd of students that flowed out of the lecture hall.

  “Um… why would you ask that?” She was sure her voice faltered as she choked the words out.

  “It just wasn’t like him. I mean, he was the guy that every guy wanted to be—the best player on the team, he made good grades, and all the girls liked him. You should know. He asked you to Manor Hill.” He stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “I went to the store with him when he bought your earrings. He was crazy about you.”

  The words stung. Jason asked her to the dance, but she didn’t really know how he felt until after his death. First, his mother, now Nick. The words Jason didn’t know how to express on his own.

  “Then I’m sure he told you that I turned him down.” She wiped her eyes on the sleeve of her coat, hiding her eyes from him. Just because she wasn’t in love with Jason, didn’t mean her love for him diminished.

  “Yeah, you’re ice cold.” He stopped to stare her down with a crooked grin on his face.

  “Whatever.” She gave him a little shove. She didn’t want him to know that his words affected her. At the time, it was easy to justify choosing William over Jason. William, her soul mate, or Jason, the tease with the wandering eyes.

  Nick continued their walk. “I just can’t believe you went to the dance with his roommate.” He shook his head but didn’t raise his eyes to hers; a crack of a smile formed at the corner of his mouth.

  “Listen.” She grabbed his sleeve, ready to let him have it. “You don’t know a thing about Jason and me, and I don’t think you’ll ever know the half of it. He ditched me in high school for the popular cheerleaders. He ditched me in college for any girl who gave him the time of day for half a second.” She brushed back the tears, which were a little more obvious this time and glanced away. The words were trapped in her throat, but with effort, came out as a whisper. “I never ditched him.”

  Groups of students slowed down to watch Laney’s tirade. She didn’t care.

  Nick reached out his hand, touching her arm, drawing her attention to his face. “I�
�m sorry, Laney. I didn’t know.”

  She held his gaze for a brief moment and then stormed away.

  William’s ankle required more rest than his urgent travel could afford. A walking stick fashioned from a dead branch he found in the woods made the trip slightly more bearable, but from the pain that radiated from his foot to his calf that it was obvious that his ankle was sprained. He should’ve known that Laney would do something like this to him. Although she did it because she loved him, it was the one thing that clouded their relationship—like a small tumor in an organ threatening to take over the entire body. As much as Laney wanted it, they’d never be equals.

  The road twisted through the woods leading to Concord. He traveled it frequently with his father on doctor’s visits to neighboring villages. Evening settled over the town as a small, two-story structure came into view. Despite its size, the light pouring from the windows told him it would be packed. He and his father spent their evenings in the rundown room above the tavern when their stay required an overnight.

  The small crowd gathered inside the tavern muffled the sound of the creaking door. Most were settled at the bar or among the more private booths along the walls. William rented a room, and then went upstairs to drop off his bag and wash up. The lively atmosphere of the tavern below drifted through the floorboards, disguising the events that transpired in the town just seven months before.

  After he descended the stairs, he ordered a drink at the bar. Most of the patrons were older men and women. Not a surprise with most of the younger men joining the militia.

  “What are you doing here, sugar?” The woman approached him at the bar. She appeared to be in her mid-thirties, her voice holding on to all types of suggestions. She claimed the stool next to him, resting a hand on his knee and leaned in, exposing her oversized cleavage. “Shouldn’t you be surrounding Boston with the rest of the boys?”

  Nausea swept through him. He moved his knee away from her hand; his eyes still scanned the room. “I’m looking for a man.”

  “That is too bad. I was hoping you were looking for a woman. Someone to treat you right.” She ran her hand through the length of his hair and spiraled a strand of it around her ring finger before she stood up. “Let me know if you change your mind.”

  The beer washed away the bitterness in William’s mouth. Two men sat down at a table in the center of the tavern. They ordered their round then settled into their conversations.

  “They say this man, Washington, will be our Commander and Chief.” One of the men wiped his mouth with his sleeve.

  “Aye. Something needs to be done. I lost some good friends in Lexington.” The second man glanced over his shoulder, frowning.

  William picked up his beer and crossed the room to join them. “Do you mind if I sit here, friends?” He rested one of his hands on the empty chair, holding his drink in the other.

  “Are you a Patriot or a Torey?” The man was middle-aged with dark hair and deep scars running across his face. Were they battle marks from a distant war? Every war seemed distant with the impending battle on their doorstep.

  The other man—much older than the first—must’ve been in the French and Indian War. The smell of beer was fresh on his lips. “Where are you from, stranger?”

  “Lexington.” William didn’t fit in with this crowd. He probably cast suspicions about his loyalties. “Perhaps you can help me.”

  The younger man downed the rest of his pint and sighed. “Now that all depends on your answer to my previous question.” He held up his mug as the barmaid passed. “Me and Isaiah here have had enough comrades killed by the damn British, and if your loyalty lies with them, you can take your questions elsewhere.”

  The older man nodded, crossing his arms in front of him on the table. The tip of a blade stuck out from his sleeve.

  William would have to choose his words. He sipped his drink, putting on an air of comradeship before continuing, “I fought in the Battle of Lexington and Concord. My loyalties lie with the colonies.”

  Isaiah slid the knife beneath his shirt. William exhaled.

  His friend offered his hand to William. “A fellow soldier. I’m George. Sorry to put you on the spot, but we have had too many Loyalists to my liking around here lately.” He scanned the room before turning back to William. “Probably spying on all us riffraff. Are you on your way to Boston?”

  “No. I am searching for a man in a green traveling cloak. His appearance would stand out in these parts. He has pitch black hair, golden eyes, and wears a deep purple ring.”

  “Golden eyes!” George choked on his drink. “Who has golden eyes?” He stared at William.

  “He is a man of little words, but if you’ve seen him, you’ll remember.”

  “I don’t remember meeting anyone like the man you describe. Golden eyes are something I would remember.” George laughed before he downed the rest of his beer.

  Isaiah rolled his glass between his hands. William didn’t want to press him, but he thought the older man might know something.

  “Why do you seek this man?” He raised his eyes to William.

  “He has something I need.” William kept his focus locked on Isaiah. He ran a finger up and down the side of his own glass. “That is the only information I wish to disclose.”

  Isaiah lifted an overgrown eyebrow. “Where exactly do your loyalties lie, young man? You say they ain’t with the crown, but like George said, British spies are overrunning the town.”

  Of course, the question would arise again. It was the only thing that mattered in these parts—in these times. Someone his age should be preparing for battle, not drinking with a bunch of old men. “With the Massachusetts Bay Colony. My place is on the front lines with my brothers, but my sister is terribly ill. The man I seek is a skilled doctor who knows how to treat her particular illness.” He surprised himself with the quick lies tumbling out of his mouth. First with Sarah and now with these men.

  The old man did not hesitate. “The doctor you search for is headed on the road to Menotomy about five or six miles east of here.”

  Laney ached to go for a run in the woods after dinner, partly because of the stiffness, but mostly to work through the mental frustration that coursed through her after talking to Nick. Instead, she headed to the library to find William. As a compromise to herself, she took the lower road opposed to cutting across the quad, which provided a longer walk. Branches were strewn like fallen soldiers, casualties of Hurricane Dan, which now made its way out into the Atlantic east of Nova Scotia. The air and the landscape still held onto the dampness, forcing her to zip up her hoodie, and jam her hands into its front pocket.

  In the distance, the rusted chain hung in front of the dirt path that led out to the wilderness to the north of the school, and a pang of emotion ran through her. The chain meant renewal, independence, and love. She had renewed her friendship with Jason by the pond a mile down the path. She found herself through her evening runs last year, growing up in ways she never imagined. And William had revealed his true identity to her at the ropes course, changing her world forever.

  The chain also meant fear and death. Jonas Webb had lived out in the woods last year, biding his time until he could get Laney to end her book his way. He had taken away her independence because of the fear he built. And Jonas killed Jason by drowning him in the pond, the same pond she now avoided at all costs.

  Cars filled the lower parking lot below the library with the semester starting. The freedom college offered Laney was severely limited last year because she didn’t have a car. With the store’s finances in the toilet, she’d have another carless year unless she found a job. Missy’s cherry red convertible sat in the front row, closest to the library. Next to her car was a motorcycle.

  Laney rushed over and climbed up on the tattered leather seat. The bike meant two things. She now had a way to get around, and Brian, the Gate Keeper, was nearby. When William went back into the book last year, he left his motorcycle behind. Brian kept the bike for he
r during the summer because her dad would never let her ride it.

  Searching through the side bags, she found the key nestled in a zippered section. She really wanted to go for a ride, but the evening crept in, and William may have left Concord by now.

  She climbed down the stairs of the stacks in the library and many of the other levels were full, but only one other person worked on the lowest level. She settled in a quiet spot sandwiched between a bookshelf on impressionist painters and the emergency exit. Opening the journal, she ran her finger along the script tracing William’s latest moves.

  She dug out her pen and tapped it on the table. Jonas Webb hated William Clarke. He’d already attempted to kill him and successfully murdered Jason. But the thought of sending someone without a redemptive bone in his body after William scared her less than her own lack of knowledge of whether or not she was still able to subject Jonas to her will when she wrote. William proved to her that he now had his own free will in his world. Perhaps his archenemy had gained similar control of his own actions.

  The sound of footsteps demanded her attention. A tall student with golden blond hair and a lacrosse jacket descended the stairs and skirted past the girl walking up. He stopped midway.

  “Don’t even think of coming near me.” Brian held up his hand as if she had some kind of contagious disease. “I brought your bike back today.”

  “I saw it in the parking lot.” Laney didn’t move an inch. She was almost afraid to breathe. “Thanks.”

  “I’m not planning on living on campus.” He was still nearby. She was his sole purpose in life at the moment. “It’s best if you don’t know where to find me.”

  “Please let me go to him.” She remained seated so she wouldn’t scare him away. “He’s trying to find a way back here by searching for a Gate Keeper named Silas.”