Eirik: A Time Travel Romance (Mists of Albion Book 1)

by Joanna Bell

  We eat quietly, surrounded only by the sounds of chewing – and Eirik snuffling as he sleeps in his bassinet.

  "Oh my God," Emma says, after finishing a single slice of cold pizza. "I shouldn't have eaten that – I already got a chicken wrap on the way here, ugh, I can't even move."

  But I take another slice of pizza out of the box and put it on her plate anyway.

  Briefly, I catch her and my father making very fleeting eye-contact. They're wondering what the hell is going on. I put down my pizza and look up at the two of them.

  "So," I say. "I need to ask you guys a question."

  "Sure." Emma replies.

  "Do you trust me? I see you looking at each other, wondering if oh, maybe the doctor was right, maybe Paige really has lost her mind. I –"

  "No," my father says. "No, it's not that. We're just full, Paige, and you keep making us eat more pizza. Why are you suddenly so insistent on stuffing us with pizza?"

  "And what are all these bags of –" Emma starts, but I hold up one hand, stopping them both.

  "Wait. Just answer the question. Do you trust me? I'm going to ask you two to come with me right now, on a short walk. And before we go – in fact right now – I want you both to promise you're not going to ask me any more questions. We're not going anywhere in the car, it's all fine and safe. But I need you to trust me. Just – trust me, and come with me."

  Emma narrows her eyes and looks at me, checking for signs that I'm joking and seeing none.

  It takes a few minutes, and they both attempt to pepper me with more questions, but eventually they do both give in, and agree to come with me on a walk in the woods behind the house. There's a brief silence when I inform them that we need to bring the bags of goods, but the stern look on my face keeps them both quiet. I'm sure it all looks totally nuts to them, but they're going along with it because a) they do trust me and b) as I said, what harm could it do – a walk in the woods?

  I glance down at my phone just before we leave. Almost 2 p.m. Eirik is snuggled up against my chest in a linen baby wrap, the bags are packed, Emma and my dad are waiting. This is it. I usher them out the door ahead of me, but Emma notices me leaving my phone on the counter.

  "Don't you –" she begins, but I eyeball her pointedly and she shuts up. "OK, fine. This better be worth it, Paige. You are acting like a right nutjob."

  I laugh. "A 'right nutjob.' English people are so adorable!"

  Emma grins and we're off. I'm so close I can almost smell the East Anglian air, and I'm terrified something is going to go wrong, that I'm going to be thwarted somehow.

  But nothing stops us. We walk down through the yard and into the woods and Emma comments on the fact that it's a beautiful day. It is. Sunny and warm and with just the faintest whisper of autumnal crispness on the breeze. When we reach the tree, I come to a stop and, a couple of seconds later, so do Emma and my dad.

  Emma puts down her sack, sighing exaggeratedly. "Ugh, this is so heavy."

  Suddenly, I'm emotional. I thought I was going to avoid this. I thought I was beyond that now. Apparently not. All it takes is a single glance back through the trees, a little glimpse of the house. I'm never coming back here. I'm never going to feel the cool, dusty linoleum under my bare feet again on a hot summer's day. I'm never going to drive into River Forks with my dad in our battered old Ford again. I'm never going to sleep in the room where my mother used to kiss me on the forehead every night.

  I can't remember what her face looked like, but I remember her voice clearly, and the mantra she would repeat after that bedtime kiss, just before she closed my bedroom door: "Goodnight, Paige. Goodnight, sleep tight, don't-let-the-bedbugs-bite."

  "Paige?" My father says, stepping forward when he sees that I'm teary. "What is it?"

  "It's nothing, Dad. Well, it's not nothing. But I can't explain it now. Maybe in a few minutes."

  Emma is staring at me, concerned. "What are we doing here?" She asks gently, putting an arm around my shoulder. "Why are we all down here in the woods?"

  I turn to her and take a breath. "You said you trusted me," I remind her. "You said you'd do this for me."

  "And I will," she replies, looking at my dad. "We will. But – what do you want us to do? Right now, I mean? Why are we –"

  "I want you to listen," I tell them, wiping my eyes. "It won't take long. But I want you to listen. And I want you to keep your promise that you won't ask any questions. I need five minutes. Just listen and do as I ask for five minutes. And then you can do whatever you want. Call the hospital, call Dr. Lawson, call the media, drag me off to the loony-bin. Anything. But I want five minutes. OK?"

  They're both thoroughly confused – not that I blame them – but they both nod, agreeing to the five minutes.

  I look down at Eirik, asleep on my chest, and run a finger through the downy hair on the top of his head. I breathe in, slowly, and then out again.

  "Do you remember," I ask my dad, "those two imaginary friends I had, as a kid? Willa and Eadgar? From Caistley?"

  My father can't quite hide the worry on his face, but he keeps his promise and just nods. "Uh, yeah. I remember that, Paige."

  And do you," I say, turning to face Emma, "remember what I told you last year, before I went missing? The big secret?"

  Emma is not as good as my dad at hiding her reaction. She looks at him, quickly, and then at me. "Uh, yeah," she says carefully, "yes, I remember."

  I give them both a moment for it to sink in that yes, I am talking about the incredibly awkward thing that makes me look crazy and that they both desperately wish I would stop talking about. When I'm sure that neither one is going to make a run for it or call 9-1-1, I continue.

  "Yeah, so about that. And before I say this I want to remind you that you promised me five minutes – you promised."

  They both nod again, and I can almost hear the gears turning in their heads, trying to figure out a way to deal with me, to get me back to the house, without pissing me off. And I haven't even gotten to the best part yet.

  "So," I continue, refusing to look shyly at the ground or otherwise act coy. "Eadgar and Willa were never imaginary. They're real. And everything I told you last year, Emma, that was all true."

  A thick fog of pure awkwardness settles over us. Emma speaks first.

  "So, OK," she says, choosing her words carefully. "You say it's all true – about the, uh, the time-travel? OK. I understand. So what are we – um, what does this have to do with right now – with us being in the woods right now?"

  "Paige," my dad cuts in and reaches for my arm. "We can talk about this back at the house. We can –"

  "No," I pull away. "You said five minutes. Both of you. You said you would do as I said."

  "OK," Emma says quietly, in the gentle tone you use with a person you're not sure is sane or not. "OK. So what do you want us to do then?"

  "I want you to do this," I respond, even though neither of them looks like they're expecting a coherent response. And then I kneel down in the fallen leaves at the base of the tree and move to press my bare hands and forearms against the root. I don't actually do it, of course, not yet, but I show them how to do it.

  Emma kneels down next to me, and she isn't happy. She knows she promised, but I can tell she isn't pleased at all. She's worried, and not because she thinks she's about to time travel.

  "Paige," my dad says, still standing. "What is this? This is ridiculous – what are we doing? We need to go back to the house – these bags are heavy and Eirik is going to get cold."

  "Sure," I nod. "We can go back. But first you need to do this. Come on, humor me – if I'm crazy, nothing's going to happen, right?"

  My dad shakes his head – both of them seem annoyed as well as worried, and crouches down next to the tree. My stomach does a nervous flip.

  "Now," I tell them. Put your hands – and your arms – on the tree. Close your eyes first, and take a deep breath, and then just touch the –"

  First Emma disappears, and then my dad. A th
in scream, as if from a great distance, fills my ears. I grab the bags they have left behind and lean forward, getting as much skin in contact with the tree as possible without waking Eirik. Darkness expands around me, my baby jerks awake on my chest, and then we're there. I look up.

  Emma is on the ground, coughing. My dad is next to her, staring at his new surroundings. Neither of them are speaking, both look to be on the verge of freaking out completely. I expected this. I knew this was going to happen.

  "It's real," I say softly, standing up so I can rock Eirik back to sleep. "It's not a dream or a trick, I haven't drugged you. It's real. It's as real as where we just were – the house and the yard and the woods. It's just – different woods."

  Emma is whimpering and looking around. "Paige – what did you do?" She asks, her voice shaking. "What did you – what is this? Where are we?"

  "You already know what this place is," I tell both of them calmly. "It's Caistley. Well, it's very close to Caistley. This is the place I told the therapists about when I was a little kid – it's the place I told you about, Emma. This is it, all around you. As real as anything."

  I wait quietly as my father and my friend get slowly to their feet, looking around like bears that have just emerged from hibernation.

  "I must have had a seizure," my dad says, more to himself than me. "I passed out. I'll wake up in the woods behind the house any minute now. I hope you don't call an ambulance, Paige, I don't need one."

  I smile at my dad's attempt to save money, even as he thinks he's passed out and having some kind of dream.

  "I don't hear any cars."

  I turn to Emma. She's got her head cocked to the side, listening. She looks up. "No planes, either. I don't hear anything. Just birds."

  "Yeah," I say, unsure if she's accepted where she is or if she's just making observations on my skill at creating whole environments to play complex pranks on my friends and relatives. "It's always so quiet here. It was always one of my favorite things about it."

  Emma faces me, her hands on her hips. "This can't be what you say it is, Paige. You know that, right? Time travel doesn't exist. Time travel can't exist. It's impossible."

  I nod. "I know. I know it can't. But it – well, it does. Here, anyway. Right now. And all the other times I've come here."

  "So where is this village, then?" She asks. She's not being combative, it's just her way of dealing with something that she believes to be impossible. "Where are these friends of yours? Willa? Edgar?"

  "Eadgar."

  "Eadgar, alright. Willa and Eadgar. Where are they? Off dancing with fairies and unicorns?"

  I laugh. "Unfortunately not. There don't seem to be any unicorns here – or fairies. This is where Eirik's dad lives, though. Or, lived. Uh –"

  I stop talking, unsure about what tense I should be using to speak of Eirik the Jarl and Emma and my father both stare up at me.

  "Really?" Emma says. "Really? You were – Paige, you were here? That whole time?"

  I nod. "Yes. Now do you see why I couldn't tell anyone? Everybody already thought I was nuts – how would they have reacted to me telling them I was a time-traveler? Even you two didn't believe me!"

  "I'm still not sure I do," Emma replies. "So we're in a different place now. Not in the woods at the bottom of your garden anymore. But how do we know this is time travel? It just looks like trees and earth and sky to me."

  As if on cue, a sudden rushing in the undergrowth fills our ears. I know what it is, but both my dad and my friend whip around, trying to figure out where it's coming from.

  "What is that?!" Emma shrieks, grabbing my arm. "Paige! What is –"

  One of the ruddy, hairy pigs that the villagers let loose in the woods to forage shoots out of the bushes and, seeing us, disappears right back into them.

  "A pig," I say, remembering a long time ago, when I didn't recognize the creatures for what they were, either. "They have different pigs here – not the big, pink ones."

  "Jesus Christ," my dad suddenly whispers, leaning heavily against a tree. "Paige – you were telling the truth? This whole time? Eirik's dad is here?"

  "Yeah," I reply. "I was telling the truth. I was never crazy – I've been coming here since I was a little kid and it just took me awhile before I realized I wasn't supposed to talk about it, that other people didn't travel in similar ways."

  We all stand quietly for a few moments, and I can feel my dad and Emma are taking everything in, attuned to every little sound, every scent, every tiny breeze around them. Eventually, Emma looks up at me. "I still don't believe it," she says. "I'm not saying I know what this place is, but time travel, Paige? Time travel? There's got to be – it has to be something else. Something I can explain. Prove it to me. Show me something. Show me this isn't just a trick."

  "Show you what?" I ask. "It's more about what I can't show you than what I can. You already said you didn't hear any cars or planes. And you just saw the pig –"

  "Yeah, I saw a pig," Emma agrees. "A weird-looking pig. That doesn't mean this is the past."

  The plan had been to bring both Emma and my dad to the past, to show them that it was real, to give Emma a way to get to me if she needed to, and then for her to return to the modern world. But if she's going to refuse to believe we've actually traveled through time, what am I supposed to do?

  As I try to come up with some way to 'prove' to Emma – and my dad – that we're not just in a different place but a different time, both of them slowly start to explore. They don't go very far, and they keep stopping to listen for the sounds of cars or lawnmowers or something that will out this whole situation as an elaborate prank. I follow Emma as she wanders out of the woods and towards the remains of the original village of Caistley. Burned debris remains on the ground, pieces of straw-thatched roof and scorched sections of wattle and daub walls that the villagers used for their own dwellings and for the animal pens.

  "This looks like thatching." Emma says, pointing to a particularly well-preserved piece. "Like from a roof, I mean. I don't think you have thatched roofs in America, do you?"

  "No," I reply, hanging back as the two of them keep going.

  We head to the beach a short while later, and I watch as my dad and my friend search the horizon for ships I know they're not going to find. Will it take? I wonder. Will they buy it? I was 5 when I first came here, they're both grown adults. Maybe something about the adult brain just isn't flexible enough to accept a thing like this?

  But there's no time to keep wondering because I suddenly hear the sound of footsteps behind me.

  "What the –" Emma says, her forehead creasing with worry as she hears the same thing.

  "Paige?"

  It's Eadgar. He's with Willa's husband, and they're both standing there in front of me, plain as day.

  "Paige!"

  Eadgar and I throw our arms around each other as Willa's husband and two other very confused people look on. Eadgar finally steps away and looks down at the baby in my arms.

  "Ah," he says. "The Northman's baby – is it a son? A daughter?"

  "A son," I reply, smiling as Eadgar takes the baby's little hand in his own.

  "And is he healthy? Strong like his father? Willa's told me all about your Northman, Paige. Is that why you're here? Are you going back to him? We spotted you in the ruins of the village, but Aldred wasn't sure it was actually you, so we've been watching the three of you from the woods for little while. I'm so glad to see you, Paige."

  I can feel Emma and my dad hanging on every word, staring at Eadgar and Aldred, at their tunics and their dirty bare feet. I know they're waiting for answers, too.

  "Yes," I reply. "Yes I'm going back to him – if he's still alive. He was sick when I left, from a battle-wound. I've brought my father, too. And my, uh, my – friend."

  I step aside a little, and the two parties of two stare at each other in open wonderment. Eadgar and Aldred seem most fascinated by the shoes I forgot to ask Emma and my father to remove, and Emma and my father seem
just generally shocked. I can't blame them.

  "This is my father," I say to Eadgar and Willa's husband. "And this is my friend, Emma."

  More than a thousand years have passed between these two pairs of humans, but some things remain the same. The people in the past don't shake hands, not exactly, but they do a single clasp sometimes, when meeting new people (which rarely happens). There is a process of introduction, too – I go through it now, naming names, informing Emma and my dad that it's more of a hand-grab than a hand-shake.

  "I brought you food," I tell Eadgar, when everyone knows everyone else's name. "And some other things for Willa and the children. Are they near?"

  He nods. "Yes, we're still in the same place we were when you left. A short walk from the old village."

  "I'll have to come with you," I tell him. "I want to see Willa. And I – I need to explain some of the things I brought to her."

  There has never been a tradition of inviting people for dinner in Caistley, not as long as I've known the place. The people are poor, always on the verge of starvation, and it's just not a ritual that would make any sense in those conditions. So it's not strange or odd that Eadgar doesn't ask us to eat a meal with his people. He understands I'll want to see Willa, though.

  "Yes, it's very close," he replies, looking at my dad and then at Emma, clearly wondering if they'll be coming too. Eadgar, although he and I – and Willa too – all have an understanding that there is probably something more than me being from 'the estate' – still thinks of me, rightly, as an outsider. His hesitation is understandable.

  "Where is it?" I ask. "My friend will be going back to the estate, but I will bring my father with me if it's OK?"

  Eadgar explains that we should follow the coast south for about five minutes, and then back inland along a path that starts beside a large rock formation that looks 'like a man's head with a big nose.' He hugs me again before leaving with Aldred, and then I turn to Emma and my father.