***
I didn't know what to make of her words as she excused herself to the wash. What could I say? What was left to believe? Perhaps this woman was from a dalliance in the past, my uncle's son’s past. Either way, her claim needed to be investigated, the assets of the house...the deed, everything that had been turned over into my name, would be frozen until such a time that the heir would be revealed. Those thoughts filled me with bitterness. The yellowed marble foyer, the faded gilt rose wallpaper, even the brass lion's head knocker already felt a part of me.
The house had seeped into my very bones and I never wanted to leave it.
"Is this how you felt, Cameron? The day you...," lost your mother. That same feeling, that same stunning blow of losing something or someone precious to you. The letter floated before my mind's eye. The date became an incessant needle worrying away at the back of my skull. Before I'd become conscious of my motions, I was taking the stairs two at a time, rushing to the room of pale blues I'd called my own. There, in the silver box, I feverishly sought the letter, dreading the confirmation of my worst fears.
August eleventh...,
Why that was thirty years...,
It's strange how memories rarely fade. Certain memories, even ones from thirty years ago.
Oh God, Oh, God, Oh God--
My thoughts ended on an unfinished prayer.
I ran with my car keys in hand. I’d left the truck parked on the grassy knoll beside the falling sign. Once, I’d clambered into the cab, I pressed my hands to my forehead. What was I to do? Stopping something from happening...stopping someone from dying,....that all seemed to be within the realm of the fantastical. But, the letter...Cameron’s letter...the dates, it all coincided with this day.
The truck’s engine roared to life. I pulled out with hardly a glance to the rear view mirror. The housekeeper’s voice rose above the squeal of the tires as I drew up onto the shoulder of the road. “Young Miss, don’t go! You can’t fight fate!”
Fate?
What was fate to the knowledge I had at hand?
I would save them.
The woman ran to the edge of the grassy strip where the rock met pavement. My gaze swung past her and I drove away from the house on the cliff. The sheer cliff face curved as the stretch of road wound its way down the hillside. My mind, my thoughts were all fixated on this one thing. I...Rowan, didn’t need to be special in order to save someone. After everything I’d sought, after the secret of this family had been kept hidden away from me -
Cartier house rose above in the splendor of midday.
I glimpsed it reflected for a second on the windshield of the car coming up from the village. It was beyond midday with the wind rising off the ocean, scenting the air with the tang of salt. The car was a small red hatchback with the paint peeling from its hood. The windows however were clear revealing the sight of the woman bent low upon the steering wheel, her gaze fixed on the mansion above.
We seemed to be drifting toward one another on an inevitable course for collision.
No.
No.
No.
No!
I slammed on the brakes, swerving across the narrow road. The woman glimpsed me at the last minute, her face a study of terror, her scream silent as the truck clipped her, sending her small car spinning away into the cliff side. My world became the sound of shattering glass, twisting metal. I knew no more for a time.
***
Then, there was a sound...maybe it was what awakened me. The sound of someone hopelessly sobbing. I opened my eyes to the glare off the pavement arising in shimmering waves. It had been an unusually hot summer on the coastland..., I felt along the razor edge of the belt, unfastening it with difficulty. Limp though my body was, I forced the door open, falling to the ground. My hip and side struck the pavement; I twisted in agony, flopping weakly over onto the shattered glass.
There he was, beyond me, sideways in the smashed car.
Yet a child of seven with my cousin’s blue, blue eyes.
“Cam...Cameron...Cam.”
I crawled forward, my blood pounding in my head.
“Cameron...,” I’d thought I could change time, but time isn’t meant to be toyed with. I wasn’t special like my forefathers, I wasn’t the one who could change the future, I was only a hopeless fool trying to save two lives and in the end, cost one life.
“G-G-Get away f-from m-me,” he sobbed brokenly. “P-P-Please!”
“I’m sorry…I.” love you. And as I gasped out the last words, my uncle’s pocket watch, the one I’d carried since finding it among his personal effects, shattered, its time forever stopping.
- Finis
AN: Found this unfinished in my doc box, decided to polish it up and finish it while I had time. Thanks for reading Good reviews are a writer’s food.
Triumph of Time Page 4
