Across the Ages (Across the Ages Book One)

by Workman, RaShelle

  When she finished, she checked the clock. It was seven thirty. She still had an hour and decided she’d explore as Mr. Kincaid had suggested.

  FIFTEEN

  SIX MORE DAYS

  LUCY TOOK a left down the hall, going in the direction opposite the way she’d come. When she reached the end, she entered another hallway. After an internal debate, she went right. The first door she came to was on the right and the door was open.

  Inside stood a white pianoforte along with several other musical instruments. Shelves lined two of the four walls and were filled with music. Two windows covered the far wall. Lucy went over to a shelf. Some of the music sheets looked very old, but had dates like nineteen forty-five, and nineteen sixty-nine. They reminded her just how far from home she really was. She read and touched the music, recognizing some of it, but not knowing most.

  Lucy was drawn to the one shelf that didn’t have sheet music on it. Instead there were small pictures housed in frames and covered in glass. She picked one up and brought it in for closer examination. It was a picture of a woman wearing a white gown. Her dark brown hair was up and under a veil. Next to her was a man, dressed in a very nice black suit with a white shirt and a lavender tie.

  “It can’t be.” She dropped the frame and stepped back as it landed on the wood floor. The glass shattered.

  “This was her favorite room in the house.”

  Lucy’s hands flew to her mouth as she spun around. “Then it isn’t a trick. That is you and my grandmother.”

  Mr. Kincaid walked over and picked up the frame, careful to avoid the broken glass.

  “I’m so sorry I dropped it,” Lucy said, bending over to help him.

  “An accident, nothing more. No harm done.” He took the picture from the frame and then tossed the frame in the trash before attending to the broken glass.

  “That strange painting is of you and my grandmother, isn’t it?”

  “It’s called a photograph. And yes. That day was the greatest of my life.” His gaze remained focused on the photograph.

  Lucy came over. “I’ve heard about something similar. There’s an inventor by the name of Nicephore Niepce. He’s very passionate about capturing images without the use of paints. He’ll be so pleased to know his idea works.”

  Mr. Kincaid held out the picture. Lucy took it. “He can’t know, Lucy. You must never tell him. You must be careful when you travel backward and forward in time.”

  Lucy handed him back the photograph. “There’s much you have to tell me, isn’t there… Mr. Kincaid?” He was her grandfather, but she wasn’t ready to call him by the title. Yet.

  Mr. Kincaid smiled at her. “Yes, Lucy. There is.” He held out his hands. Lucy took them. They were slightly rough, but large and well kept. “It’s so good to meet you at last.”

  “And you,” Lucy said. She released his hands and went back to the pianoforte bench. She hoped she hadn’t offended him, but she needed some space while they talked. “I’m ready. Tell me everything.”

  Mr. Kincaid sat in a stuffed red chair that looked like it had seen better days. “Very well. But first, tell me how you enjoyed the shower.”

  “Very much. It was lovely to be constantly surrounded by the warm water.” Her features clouded and she looked away.

  “What?”

  “Well usually I have Harriet brush my hair until it’s nearly dry. Then she plaits it.” Lucy pulled her long hair over her shoulder. “I didn’t do a very good job of brushing it out. It’s still tangled.” She glanced down at the wet, ratty ends. She’d never considered herself inept, but the fact that she couldn’t attend to her own hair proved she probably was, only not as bad as most.

  “My apologies, Lucy. I’ll have Ingrid help you with that later. She actually used to do your grandmother’s hair.” His bright eyes faded. “I’m sure she’ll be happy to have another to care for.

  “Thank you.” She paused, glanced down at the beautiful dress. “How long did you know my grandmother?”

  He lifted his eyes to the ceiling, thinking. “Let’s see, I met her when she was fifteen and I was twenty-five. Our relationship caused quite a scandal, especially when she’d just up and disappear for a while. My friends thought… well who knows what they thought, but that’s the first thing you should understand about what’s inside that locket. While you’re here in two thousand fifteen, New York City time continues for us here, but stops in your time.” He paused and ran a hand over his face. “Which is when exactly? Eighteen fourteen or eighteen fifteen?”

  “Eighteen fifteen,” Lucy said quietly. She thought about what he’d said. “Is it like the people in my time are motionless?”

  “Agatha—your grandmother—and I were never certain of the how and why her time travelling worked as it did, but we guessed it was as though she were stepping through a rip in time’s fabric.

  That brought Lucy up. “And how long would she stay?” Finding out the answer terrified and excited Lucy.

  “I wondered where the two of you could be.”

  Lucy started at the sound of Will’s voice, not having noticed his arrival.

  He crossed his arms and leaned against the doorframe.

  “I thought you had a date?” Lucy asked, trying to recover. She noticed how incredibly handsome he looked in a pair of tan trousers and a light blue shirt that buttoned down the front. It didn’t escape her notice that he’d chosen the exact color of her dress.

  We’re a pair, she thought and then immediately blushed.

  “I do, but it isn’t until later.”

  Mr. Kincaid stood. “It’s good to see you again, Will.” He shook Will’s hand. “Are you staying for dinner or did you come back for something else? Sounds to me like you were desperate to see my lovely granddaughter.” His eyes found Lucy’s.

  Will raised an eyebrow. “Don’t you need like a paternity test to prove you’re related? I mean, for all you know, she could be just some girl from the streets trying to get to your money.”

  “You’ll do well never to speak of my granddaughter in that fashion again. Do you understand?” Mr. Kincaid went back to his ratty old chair and sat. “She is my granddaughter. I say so. And if I say so, then it’s true. End of story.” His eyes blazed with finality.

  “Sorry, Charles.” Will tucked his hands in his pockets. “I’m sure you know what you’re doing.”

  Mr. Kincaid laughed. “Of course I do. Now would you like to sit and chat or did you only intend to stay for a second?”

  Will glanced at his shiny shoes. Then he looked at Lucy from under his lashes.

  Lucy felt her breath suck in as the strange sensation, like the one she’d had earlier when she first looked into his eyes, coursed through her.

  “I thought I’d stay for dinner,” Will said, still focused on Lucy.

  She swallowed.

  “We’ll be discussing things that might seem bizarre. If you stay, you’ll need to be patient and listen.” Mr. Kincaid crossed his arms.

  Will turned his attention to Mr. Kincaid. “Charles, you know what I do. I’ve been to nearly every corner of the world hunting down one-of-a-kind relics. Whatever you tell me is probably going to be nothing I haven’t heard before.”

  “This is more extra-ordinary than some golden ox head thought to bring the owner infinite wealth or a diamond encrusted chalice said to give the one who drinks from it immortality. What Lucy’s gone through, what she carries—” Charles paused, shaking his head. “The same power provided me with the most wonderful of gifts and it’s done it again by bringing Lucy here.”

  Lucy followed their conversation with interest and found the idea that Will had travelled extensively quite exciting. Talking to him would be rather interesting. And those items Mr. Kincaid mentioned? Had Will really found such things?

  “I’ll be the judge of that.” Will walked into the room and over to one of the shelves stacked with sheet music.

  “You said Lucy was… bonkers.” Charles lifted a questioning brow. “I belie
ve that was the word you used, William.”

  Will coughed but made no reply. Lucy knew she wasn’t supposed to speak out of turn, especially when this was 0clearly a conversation between two men, but she’d never been very good at holding her tongue when there was something important to be said.

  “Will was the only one who bothered to talk to me. No one else seemed to care or notice. And he helped me even before I told him your name.”

  Mr. Kincaid good-naturedly bowed in defeat. “Then have a seat. We were just discussing how the amulet or charm—” He looked at Lucy. “Your grandmother always called it her lucky charm.” Then he turned back to Will, “—within the locket works.” He leaned forward and waited while Will pulled another ratty red chair over next to Mr. Kincaid. When Will was seated, Mr. Kincaid asked, “Have you seen it?”

  Will rested his elbows on his knees and clasped his hands together. “What? The half-circle thing?”

  Mr. Kincaid smiled. “That’s right.”

  “Sure. Why?”

  “It’s just that Agatha and I found that some people couldn’t see what was inside the locket. We never figured out why.” Charles clapped Will on the back. “It seems there’s hope for you yet.”

  “Why do you think some couldn’t see it?” Lucy asked.

  “Agatha and I discussed it at length. We decided it had to do with each person’s receptiveness to the supernatural. Your grandmother used to keep journals in her time. She’d write down everything we tried, learned, and discovered about why she travelled here.” Lucy had seen those journals. Her grandmother told her to read them, but she hadn’t had the chance.

  “She was trying to figure out how—” Mr. Kincaid paused and wiped his eyes. “We longed to be together all the time,” he said. “I was never able to meet our children.”

  “You have children?” Will seemed astounded.

  “Yes, I have two.”

  “Why haven’t I ever met them?”

  “Because I’ve never met them either,” Mr. Kincaid said in a voice that made Lucy’s heart ache for him. It must’ve been so difficult. Something else dawned on her as Lucy realized her mother was Mr. Kincaid’s daughter. Did her mother know that Count Vega wasn’t really her father? Was that why she was incessantly grouchy? It would make sense.

  “What? Why? Did her—” Will was incredulous.

  “Don’t say another word, William. I know what you’re thinking and it isn’t true. Not even a little. It broke Agatha’s heart that I never had the chance to meet our children. That was why we didn’t have more. Trust me, if I could’ve met them I would have.”

  Will held his tongue, but he didn’t seem happy about it.

  Lucy decided to ask a question. “How long would she stay with you before she went back?”

  “Seven days. She would come forward on the first day of the new or full moon phases in her time, stay six more days, and then she would be pulled back to her time.”

  “When I saw my grandmother and she gave me the locket, I noticed the moon was in the third quarter phase.”

  Mr. Kincaid nodded. “That means you have six more days.”

  “So she’d come forward in time every two weeks,” Will said, mulling the facts over.

  “Based on her time, yes. According to mine, I would see her once every four weeks. Also, consider this, traveling through time caused Agatha to age much faster than she should have otherwise, relative to the rest of us. I tried to get her to stop when she started to get sick, but she wouldn’t hear of it. She’d say, ‘Stop fussing over me, Charles. You needn’t worry.’”

  Lucy could imagine her grandmother saying those words. She’d been a strong willed woman.

  Mr. Kincaid continued, “Neither of us would trade a second of the time we spent together.” He became choked up as he spoke. Lucy thought about going over and hugging him, but couldn’t bring herself to do it.

  “I’m confused,” Lucy said, struggling to wrap her brain around how her grandmother spent more time with him than he did with her.

  “So am I,” Will added, sitting forward, his brow furrowed.

  “Let me explain it another way. When Agatha would travel forward in time, time here would continue to move forward. Agatha would spend the week with me and then go back to her time to the exact moment she left. In my time we’d already lived another week, but back in her time she’d have to live the week spent with me over again, but in her time, along with another before her next chance to time travel. Does that make better sense?”

  Lucy shook her head. “Perhaps a little.”

  “Yeah,” Will agreed. “This whole time travel business is weird.”

  “Agreed, but that’s what Agatha and I discovered was happening.”

  “Dinner is ready, Mr. Kincaid.” A tall woman with light blond hair and blue eyes came into the room.

  “Thank you, Rosemary. We’ll be down directly,” Mr. Kincaid said.

  “Very good.” The woman had an accent though Lucy couldn’t place it. She smiled as she met the other woman’s gaze. Rosemary lifted her nose slightly and then was gone.

  Mr. Kincaid, Will, and Lucy stood.

  “Shall we continue our conversation over dinner?” Mr. Kincaid asked, offering his elbow for Lucy to take.

  SIXTEEN

  FIND THE TRUTH

  DINNER WAS served in comfortable style. The first course was a spring greens salad topped with toasted almonds, feta cheese, and mandarin oranges. The dressing was light and refreshing with a hint of lemon. Following the salad was the main course, which included spicy sausage, cheese, and a red sauce with sautéed onions and mushrooms. There was also a side of bread topped with creamy butter and garlic. For dessert Rosemary served the most delectable tiramisu. Lucy ate the entire thing.

  Interlaced between all of the delicious food was stimulating conversation, mostly about Will and his peculiar job. Lucy learned he was just twenty. Not much older than she, but he’d already been to France, Spain, Istanbul, Africa, and Asia. Before the locket brought her forward in time, she’d never been anywhere but England. She had to admit she was envious of his life.

  “Have you finished your studies?” Lucy asked as she took a sip of tea.

  “I’m taking a break,” Will answered casually.

  “Oh, you don’t like college?” The word felt unfamiliar in her mouth but Will and Mr. Kincaid had used the term so she tried it as well.

  “I like it well enough.” Will clasped his hands together in front of him.

  “Will’s major is archeology.”

  “That’s the study of the past civilizations,” Will said.

  “I know what archeology is.” She sat up straighter and glared at him. She continued to marvel at the way he always managed to both annoy and interest her.

  “Sorry.” He waved his hands in surrender.

  Lucy tucked her feet under her chair. She couldn’t figure out why she hadn’t just excused herself and taken her leave since it was obvious Will believed her story now, thanks to Mr. Kincaid.

  “Archeology is my major but I specialize in rare artifacts.” He gulped some ice water with a lemon slice in the glass.

  “So you’re an antiquarian?” Lucy said smugly. She knew archeology had grown out of antiquarianism centuries ago. They specifically studied rare artifacts, manuscripts, and civilizations.

  “That’s correct.” Will was obviously surprised at her knowledge.

  Lucy grinned internally. Take that, she thought, as she sipped more of her tea.

  “Her mind is quick like Agatha’s was. She might just give you a run for your money.” Mr. Kincaid poured himself a glass of bourbon.

  As Mr. Kincaid returned to his seat at the head of the dining table, his gaze caught hers. He took a sip but remained silent.

  Will didn’t seem to notice the exchange, probably because he was wrapped up in what he wanted to say. “Two summers ago, before I started college, Mr. Kincaid and Agatha, your grandmother I suppose,” he inclined his head at Lucy as he co
ntinued, “took me with them on a trip to Africa. They were looking for a talisman crafted in Ra’s likeness.” He paused and picked up his water glass. “Ra was a god of Egypt—”

  “Ra was the most important of the Egyptian gods. His name means sun. It was believed he travelled the underworld at night.” Will was insufferable. She wanted to stick her tongue out at him. “Unlike you, I completed my studies,” Lucy snapped. She wasn’t having his superior attitude. Just because she came from two hundred years in the past didn’t give him the right to treat her as though she were a half-wit.

  “Okay. Good. No need to get snippy.”

  Lucy had no idea what snippy meant but guessed it couldn’t be good. “I am not—snippy. You, on the other hand, think entirely too much of yourself.”

  Will glanced at Mr. Kincaid. “It’s true, Will.”

  “Fine, I have a single flaw. I’ll work on it. Just as soon as the curse kicks in.” He smirked. “Anyway, supposedly the talisman they searched for, if used a certain way, could keep two lovers together.”

  “I see. And did you find it?”

  “Is the Pope Catholic?”

  Lucy gave him a blank stare.

  “Yes, I found the damn thing. Not that it did any good.” He finished off his water.

  “It didn’t work. It wasn’t real. It was just a sun made from some cheap material, a total waste of time,” Mr. Kincaid said sadly.

  Lucy felt bad for him and her grandmother. It had to be difficult for him to only spend thirteen weeks out of every year with his true love. She did the math quickly. Her grandmother, on the other hand, got to spend twenty-six with him. Thinking about the science behind the time travel made her head dizzy.

  “Regardless, because I found the talisman so easily, word of my skills began to spread. Some of the gossip was from me. But most of it was Charles and Agatha.” Will shot him a genuine smile.