“You catch on quickly, William,” she smiled. “That is precisely what I want. That fool oaf of a husband of mine decided that the waste of vengeance on a man who had not directly affected his life was not worth it.” Her anger seemed to grow again, as did the wind behind her. “As if the life of his only daughter and his own grandson did not affect him, were not worth the vengeance. I will find him dead in the morning in the barn.” She laughed at that last revelation, the sort of dangerous laugh that let him know she had already dispatched Samuel and she was quite serious about doing the same to him.
He kept his pacing until finally he had reached the point where he needed to be. Two more steps and they would be perfect.
“Well, sadly for you Elizabeth, I have no intention of freely letting you end my life.” He turned and jumped in one motion, but his feet didn’t have a chance to touch the ground before he felt the heat from the flame. His world went dark, all feeling and sound and sight fading into black. He didn’t see anything but white sparks around grey circles and dark spots. He heard the loud crackle of lightning in his ears, and then the light swishing of silence.
He wasn’t sure exactly what happened, but the pain in his back and the blood dripping from his forehead let him know that whatever it was, at least didn’t kill him. Slowly he sat up, looking around to try and get his bearings. He had no idea where he was, so he pushed himself up and stood, turning in a circle to decide which direction he should head in to find out.
There was an area to his left that seemed to be brighter than any other so that was the way he set off on. The woods seemed different to him the further he walked. He had spent almost his entire childhood playing in these woods, so the more he walked the more disoriented he got. He reached up and touched the cut on his forehead, deciding that once he got somewhere he recognized he was going to have to be still for a while so that his head could get better. He’d end up somewhere he didn’t want to be if he kept this up.
After what seemed like an eternity to walk less than an hour, William finally broke through and into a clearing. He stopped dead and shielded his eyes from the sun. He must have been out longer than he thought, he decided. It was barely mid-morning when he had run away from Elizabeth’s mother. The memories came rushing back to him like a broken dam and he pushed them down as quickly as he could. He would worry about those when he got somewhere for the night.
William lowered his hands as he started to imagine he recognized where he was now. It was familiar and strange both at the same time. He walked surely across an expanse of grass, seeing in his minds eye what it all looked like in another place… or another time. A little further up there were two ponds, one on either side of the lane. One pond was small, barely big enough for the dozen or so ducks that glided lazily along the wind borne current that pushed them around. On the other side was a bigger pond with cattails and irises growing all along its edge. Dark green lily pads with their pale pink and bright red flowers floated in a sluggish dance around the center of the pond. Frogs occupied some of those pads, their deep throated songs the only thing giving away their existence and position
At the far edge of the bigger pond, at the edge of the tree line, a young weeping willow stood guard over the pond and its inhabitants. Remnants of certain trees gone long ago stood sadly next to it.
“Isn’t it beautiful?” a voice came to William’s mind. He jumped, looking around for the woman he knew belonged with that voice. “You are aware, most men would die to know what their homesteads would look like two hundred years into the future. To know whether their descendants had maintained it. Too bad for your dear father none of his descendants lived.”
Elizabeth played with his mind so that he saw the blur of the past everywhere he looked. The barn where his wife died was replaced by a copse of white birch. The three acres of corn and wheat had been replaced with thick green grasses. An easy spring breeze was blowing but instead of the scents of horses and cows there was the smell of something sweet that he didn’t recognize.
A small way away from where he was standing was a neat row of stones varying in size. He recognized what they were immediately, and his stomach felt as though he was just hit in the gut with a shovel.
“You turned her home into a cemetery?” he asked Elizabeth through gritted teeth. “Are you really so cruel and inhuman as that?”
Elizabeth seemed more complimented by that question than she was insulted. “Oh, my dear William. I didn’t do anything. This was all your father. After you disappeared, he completely gave up. He had nobody left and meant nothing to anyone. His house all but fell down around him, so after he was committed, they simply let it go. He died soon after the last beam fell.”
William took a deep breath and held it. He had never believed in violence against a woman and he didn’t want to start now, even if Elizabeth was more than just a voice in his head.
“Go on. Go look at what had become your legacy.”
William walked ahead, not quite sure how he was feeling. Not quite sure what he was. He could feel and think and bleed, so he was not dead. But after two hundred years he was fairly certain he wasn’t alive either. He thought of his father, and quickly reconciled himself to the fact that he was dead. Which, considering the alternative, William was glad of the fact.
All thoughts silenced the more he walked, and the more he took in. He gave into his curiosity and began looking at the headstones as he passed, wondering how many of the families he would know were buried there. How many of the deceased were children that he had been playing with only a few short years ago. More like a few centuries, he corrected himself.
He spent years wandering. It wasn’t a large space, but as he was pretty sure that he was going to be there until the literal end of time, he saw no need to rush his explorations. He watched beautiful funeral services, he saw wives visit memorials to mourn husbands and fathers visit gravesites to mourn children taken long before their time. He found himself wondering sometimes if his father ever grieved for him.
He did eventually explore every square inch of his new home, and there were certain areas that he was especially fond of. The path he followed today was more of just a well-worn walkway. As he rounded a bend, he saw someone crouched down looking closely at some stones.
He stood there watching her a moment longer, a strand of beautiful red hair at her temple blowing in the breeze before she tucked it behind her ear. He was mesmerized by her. It was a feeling he hasn’t felt in a long time, and he didn’t even consider fighting it. He didn’t know what it was exactly, but he was intrigued to find out. He continued around the bend and stepped toward her.
“Hello,” he called out quietly.
***
She almost jumped into the pond like one of the frogs, turning and practically falling backward in the process. Her hand flew to her chest as she fought to catch her breath. Standing behind her was one of the most beautiful men she had ever seen. His hair was a beautiful mocha brown, sparks of blond and copper blended in, tousled and messed as if he’d just rolled out of bed. His full, red lips curved at the corners in a small, lopsided smile. His eyes though. They were full of something she’d never seen before, not quite knowing how to describe it. And they were the most amazing shade of blue, like the blue of an iceberg.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you,” he breathed quietly. His voice was melodic, and soft as silken velvet.
She was reminded to exhale as she reassured him, “No, I’m fine, thank you. Sorry. I just didn’t know anyone was here.”
He walked toward her slowly, his arms clasped behind his back. He wore a simple cotton shirt, and tall black boots that looked like he might have been riding a horse close by. She remembered seeing a small horse farm on the other side of the road, a few miles down and figured he must have lived there.
“I was down the lane a way,” he said as he turned slightly, indicating the direction he must have come from. He eyed her speculatively, and she suddenly became very self-co
nscious. She suddenly became concerned with the possibility that something was hanging from her nose.
“Oh. Umm, you know somebody buried here?” she questioned. She suddenly got the feeling she shouldn’t be there. And yet at the same time something was telling her she didn’t really want to be anywhere else.
“Yes. I know a few people,” he replied somberly. “And you?”
She just shook her head, the single simple word no completely eluding her.
He stayed his respectable distance, and she watched his eyes as he watched her. They were hypnotizing, and she was glad when he turned his head, breaking the spell.
“Do you come here a lot?” she asked a little too eagerly.
The lopsided smile turned into a full-sized grin.
“I’m here all the time,” he answered quietly, glancing to the sun on his left. “But I’m afraid I must go now. Again, I’m sorry to have startled you. Perhaps I shall see you here another time.” He said the last as more of a statement than a question.
He made a small bow and then sauntered backward. She took a couple of steps backward herself and then turned slowly, her head down as she walked carefully down the path and back to her car. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw him watching her. She paused at the driver’s door, wanting to look, but afraid to at the same time. But before the fear cemented in her mind her head snapped up, and he was gone. She slid into the car behind the wheel and headed off home.
He watched from the shadows as she drove away.
The drive home didn’t seem to take any time at all, and as she pulled into the driveway and suddenly noticed the house, she found herself wondering exactly how she got there. She didn’t recall any part of the drive. Not a stop light, not a car, nothing. Like the entire ride home had not even taken place, and she was just suddenly back home.
Sophie Morgan was a smart, well educated, independent woman. She owned a bookstore that her grandmother had left her a couple of years ago, and she enjoyed her solitude. She’d had her share of relationships, but generally nothing that lasted more than a year and certainly nothing since she left college four years ago. Relationships were complicated things, in her opinion, and she had yet to meet a guy that made being with him more appealing than being alone.
She poured herself a glass of wine and sat at the dining room table, slicing open envelopes that she had picked up off the floor inside the front door. The sounds of Enya floated in from the living room.
Do you think he thinks of you?
Sophie paused mid-swallow. She could have sworn she heard a voice. A woman’s voice, almost whispering.
Do you?
“Do I think who thinks of me?” she answered, then just as quickly she felt like an idiot. She was talking to nobody. But still, at the same time, there was most definitely a voice. And she knew exactly who that voice was talking about. Sophie had been trying to put him out of her mind since her obvious ride home.
There was no not thinking about him now. It was as if she had locked him in a closet, but now he had broken out of that closet, blowing the doors wide open with no intention of going back in.
“Hello?” she said tentatively, looking around the room, waiting for an answer.
She dropped her head in her hands, her elbows on the table. What was she doing? What was wrong with her? She was thinking of a guy she met for less than a minute and a half standing in the middle of a cemetery. She was hearing the voice of a woman who was asking a question like a jealous girlfriend.
You’re not going mad. Another voice in her head. But this one she recognized. They might not have talked a lot that afternoon, but just like his eyes, his voice was unforgettable. Warm velvet, smooth and melodic.
“I’m not? Are you sure about that? I’m hearing voices. Not exactly the sign of a sane woman,” she yelled, picking her head up out of her hands and turning her face toward the ceiling. “And now I’m talking back to the voices. I’m definitely crazy.”
There was no response from either voice. She waited another few seconds and there was nothing. She grabbed her wine glass off the table and downed the contents in one gulp, pushed herself off the chair and headed into the kitchen.
She thought about it as she cleared her mail off of the table and sat down with a plate of reheated Chinese food she just took out of the microwave. There is nothing about this that isn’t crazy. She always thought of herself as a common sense, down to earth, realistic woman. She was never given to hearing things and daydreams. And she had certainly never, ever believed in the idea of love at first sight. And if she were honest, she was not even sure that’s what this was. But what she was sure of was that she couldn’t stop thinking about him, which was ridiculous because she didn’t even know his name.
And then she thought of his eyes. A blue the color of an iceberg, and just as polarizing. She looked into them and felt all strength and resolve just melt away. For her sake it was a good thing he had turned out to be a gentleman or the encounter could have gone much differently. But she hadn’t had the feeling he was someone she needed to be afraid of. She still couldn’t understand why. Had this been a similar encounter with any other person in any other place, even in the parking lot full of people, she would have averted her eyes and skirted around a different way. But alone, where she had been, with nobody knowing where she had gone, she had not been afraid of him.
“Oh my God, Sofie,” she admonished herself. “Seriously? Can’t you save this energy for someone who says more than a dozen words to you?” She dumped her half-finished dinner plate in the sink and trudged up to bed.
Sleep was not going to happen, though. At least not total sleep. She tossed and turned, waking with a start every time she got even close to unconsciousness. She kept seeing him, standing alone by two stones. One was small and the other was larger by comparison. She couldn’t see his face, but he stood with his head bowed, his hands crossed in front of him. She could feel his sadness but didn’t understand it and felt herself pulled toward him. All she wanted to do at the moment was to comfort him, but as she took a step in his direction a terrible wind grew around her. Dirt and leaves were blown in her face so she could barely see him anymore. She stepped back and the wind stopped.
He’s not yours!
Sofie jerked straight up in bed, gasping. That voice she heard, the same woman from earlier, did not sound like it was coming from a dream. She heard it, she knew she did. She looked frantically around her room, searching shadows and closed windows for any sign of someone having been there. Nothing. She closed her eyes, listening for anything that her eyes couldn’t see, but again there was nothing.
There was no way that Sofie Morgan was going to be afraid of a faceless voice. It wasn’t going to hurt her, obviously, or she wouldn’t be sitting in bed arguing with herself.
“Don’t be stupid, Sofie. You’re hearing things. That’s it. Go to sleep!” She slid down under the blankets and closed her eyes again, blocking out everything except the sound of her own breathing, counting breaths until she could feel sleep finally coming.
Stay away! that voice said again. Sofie’s eyes flew open but she didn’t lift her head from the pillow.
“Oh, it’s on now, sweetie,” Sofie responded, feeling a bit foolish. “I’ll be going to see him in the morning, thank you. Have a good night.”
Sofie expected a curt response, a threat or something. But there was silence. She smiled a victorious smile, closed her eyes again, and slipped blissfully into sleep.
Sofie woke up pretty early the next morning. That was nothing strange, as she had always been a morning person, but given the drama played out the night before it was a little earlier than she would have liked. Still, now she’d have time to make herself look better than her usual sweatpants and oversized tee shirt. If this disembodied voice wanted to be sure that nothing happened between Sofie and this beautiful, intriguing man, then she was going to do whatever she could to get him.
It didn’t take her long to get there, and it suddenly
dawned on her that he might not even be there. She couldn’t even begin to think why she thought he would be. Just because he was here yesterday doesn’t mean he hung out here all the time. She threw her head against the back of the driver’s seat and exhaled loudly.
“Idiot,” she said quietly. “Not everyone hangs out at a cemetery.” The fact that she might lose this round to a person she didn’t even know was just as upsetting, she just realized, as the fact that she might not actually see him today.
No, she might lose this round to a voice, she corrected herself. She was in competition with an imaginary, noncorporeal voice in her head. “I really ought to see a therapist,” she said quietly.
Why would you think I’m not corporeal? The voice answered, almost amused.
“I definitely need to see a therapist,” Sofie determined. “But since I’m here…”
She stepped out of the car and stuffed the keys in her pocket, vainly scanning the tree line for a possible glimpse of him. She wasn’t expecting to see anything, but she was still hopeful. Not that she would admit it. Her reputation for independence would all go to hell if she did.
She walked slowly toward the exact place she saw him yesterday, her fingers laced behind her back. It was as good a place to start as any. She stopped at the family of headstones she had seen yesterday and decided to stop and try again to read who they might have been. She got to the bigger stone, the one she thought must have belonged to the father since it towered over the rest. Bending forward, she traced her fingers carefully over the indentations, trying to read it like Braille. But time and weather had just about worn away the entire thing.
She turned to the next stone, the one most likely belonging to the mother. It was larger than the others, but smaller than the first. She performed the same ritual, making her eyes go fuzzy and then tracing the indentations. But again, she couldn’t make out one letter.
“Their name was Abernathy,” a low voice said behind her, the melodic sound making her hand stop over the crumbling white stone, her fingers starting to shake. Her breath caught in her throat, and she turned slowly. She had hoped but didn’t at all plan on the fact that he would actually be there. She couldn’t help but smile.
Destined ~ A Time Travel Anthology Page 5
