The Gate of Days - Book of Time 2

by Guillaume Prevost

  Feeling heartsick, he stared at the screen. The slide show ran through their big Bel View house; Allan feeding him a baby bottle; his mother laughing at the county fair; a Christmas tree surrounded by presents; his first bicycle; a group shot, again with his mother, who was hugging him tight. … It felt both wonderful and unbearable.

  The next photo showed him building a snowman with Alicia. The picture must have been taken right after the Todds moved in next door, since he and Alicia looked about nine years old. From then on, Alicia’s sweet face, blond hair, and big blue eyes appeared along with Sam more and more often. For two years they had been inseparable: same school; same friends; same books, whose chapters they read aloud to each other; same movies, whose favorite scenes they would endlessly reenact; same hysterical giggles when their parents came upstairs to make sure they were asleep.

  Then Elisa Faulkner had died, and a black shroud fell over everything. Sam had felt he was tumbling into a bottomless pit, a well of sadness and bitterness that he couldn’t escape without severing the sorrow that still connected him to his mother. He hadn’t wanted to see anybody, not even Alicia. In the space of a few weeks he’d broken everything off.

  Three years passed that way. The Faulkner’s moved out of Bel View, Sam changed schools, and even though he thought about Alicia all the time, he’d never had the courage to see her again. Until three days ago, in fact, at the judo tournament, when she’d appeared on Jerry Paxton’s arm. The tall boy’s presence and the festive mood in the gym made Sam feel awkward, and he hadn’t been able to tell Alicia what was really in his heart: that his love for her hadn’t changed, and that just by looking at him, she could tell it never would. There were a lot of things Alicia needed to hear, including the apologies Sam owed her, which he had left too long unsaid. And this time, waiting another three years was out of the question.

  Sam looked at his watch. It was four-thirty. Maybe Alicia would agree to see him.

  8 Alicia Todds

  Sam hadn’t been back to the Bel View neighborhood in ages, and when he saw the first white colonial-style houses with their big lawns, he felt almost dizzy. Everything was the same, yet everything was so different! The maple trees that lined the avenue, the colorful bushes and flower beds, the blue mailboxes by the paved walkways, the sidewalk where he first learned to skateboard — well, where his knees and elbows first learned — the lamppost he had swung around so many times … Except that he wasn’t ten years old anymore, the bus hadn’t just dropped him off after school, and his mother wasn’t waiting with a grapefruit-orange juice cocktail (“It’s full of vitamins, Sammy!”) and his favorite cookies. Today he was a stranger: a stranger to his childhood, a stranger to his neighborhood, a stranger to what he might have become if everything hadn’t changed.

  Sam stopped to let his heart slow to a normal rhythm. His house — his old house — was the third from the corner, the one with the green window trim. Alicia’s was next door. Number 18, where he was standing, belonged to Miss Maggie Pye, who had occasionally babysat for him when he was little. As it happened, she was standing over her rosebushes, garden clippers in hand.

  “Miss Pye?” he called over the fence.

  She turned, probably surprised not to recognize the voice. “What can I do for you?”

  “It’s me, Sam. Sam Faulkner.”

  “Sam Faulkner?” she said, adjusting her glasses. “Good heavens, its Sammy Faulkner!” But she didn’t make a move to come greet him. “I wouldn’t have recognized you! What are you doing around here? You must have moved away three or four years ago, eh?”

  “Yes, three years ago,” said Sam. He felt a bit disappointed by the chilly welcome, but after all, what had he expected? That the neighbors would rush into the street, setting off fireworks and yelling, “Hallelujah! Sam’s back!”?

  “It was a real tragedy,” said Miss Pye with a sigh. “Still, you grow up, you get over it. At your age you have other things on your mind, don’t you?”

  She stood there smiling tensely, her free hand resting on her flashy jeweled necklace. Miss Pye was so fond of jewelry that Allan had dubbed her “Miss Magpie” — irresistibly drawn to anything that gleamed, clinked, or sparkled. Sam wondered if she thought he wanted to steal her precious necklace.

  “Well, see you next time, Miss Pye.”

  “Okay, see you then.”

  She turned back to her roses as if nothing had happened. Sam felt especially let down because in the old days they had all liked each other. When he had his appendix out, for example, Miss Pye had dropped by the hospital to say hello and even brought him a box of candies. True, she had devoured them while he watched, but then, she never could resist treats wrapped in shiny paper!

  And then later that day, his mother had set out for the hospital in her car, and crashed down the embankment.

  Swallowing his sudden sadness, Sam briskly walked up the path to the Toddses’ house and pressed the doorbell. A few moments later, the door opened.

  “What can I do for you?”

  It was Helena Todds, Alicia’s mother. She was almost as beautiful as her daughter, with the same golden hair, but her features weren’t quite as defined. She was also shorter than Sam remembered.

  “Are you looking for something?” she asked in a friendly way.

  “I — I’m Sam Faulkner,” he stammered.

  Helena Todds’s eyes widened. “Sam Faulkner! Of course! Sam!” She gave him a big hug and kissed him firmly on both cheeks. Sam could feel something melting in his chest. “You’re all grown up now! You’re handsome too, just like your father! And almost as tall, aren’t you? Let me guess: You’re on vacation from school, so you decided to drop by.”

  “That’s right. I — I had a question I wanted to ask you.”

  Helena Todds seemed amused by his embarrassment. “Did you come to see Alicia? She’s out now, but she should be home soon. I gather you ran into each other at the judo tournament.”

  Alicia had mentioned him to her mother! Alicia had mentioned him to her mother! His mood brightened immediately. “I was really happy to see her,” he admitted.

  “And you won too! I’m so pleased you re doing well after all these years! But come in, come in!”

  Sam followed her through the hallway into the living room, which was furnished in the same nautical theme he remembered: antique charts on the pale wood walls, a big mahogany bookcase, and navigation instruments scattered here and there. Sam sat down on the big leather sofa next to a low table, where his parents had so often sat when they came over for a drink.

  “What about your father? How is he?” asked Helena.

  “He’s … he’s traveling.”

  “Oh, good. On business, right? Is the bookstore doing well?”

  “Er, yes. At least its starting to.”

  “I think Allan has a good reputation among collectors, and that’s something! You know, we worried a lot about you,” she added more quietly. “I mean after your mother’s death. Allan just shut himself up. He didn’t want to go out anymore or talk or see us. … I think we should have insisted that he not be alone. Forced him, even! I felt guilty about that afterward, if only for your sake. It isn’t good for an eleven-year-old boy to find himself all alone at home after … Anyway, I feel I didn’t really do what I should have. I hope you don’t resent me for it.”

  Sam was speechless. From his point of view, he was the one who had walled himself up in his sorrow — like his father — and kept anybody from distracting him from it, even Alicia.

  “Don’t worry, Mrs. Todds,” he finally answered. “Everything’s fine now.”

  “Including that black eye you’re sporting?”

  Sam had forgotten about it. “Oh, that’s just from the tournament.”

  “Well, that’s better,” she continued in a more cheerful tone. “What was the question you wanted to ask?”

  A question? Sam wondered. Oh yes, his supposed reason for coming over!

  “Well, it’s strange, actually,” he
said, thinking fast. “There was a show about Flemish painters on TV the other day, and I watched it because art is one of my favorite subjects at school. Anyway, I don’t know if you’re going believe this, but they showed a painting that you’d swear was of Alicia.”

  Helena spread her hands, not understanding. “It must be a coincidence!”

  “That’s what I thought at first, but later in the broadcast they said the young woman had been painted by her father, Hans Baltus, and that she married a man named Van Todds.” “Van Todds! That’s funny, because I think Mark’s great-grandfather was called Van Todds! He lost the Van while crossing the Atlantic. But he did come from there, from Belgium. And if I remember right, there were some painters in the family. What did the painting look like?”

  Sam thought back to the day when Alicia’s ancestor Yser had posed in Baltus’s studio in Bruges, with its smell of oil and camphor. Sam had merely finished the portrait by painting the young woman’s hands, but he felt quite proud of the result.

  “It was … It was very good. The model wore a beautiful black velvet dress with a hat, and —”

  The ring of the front doorbell cut him off.

  “That must be Alicia; she always rings. Come on, we’ll surprise her.”

  They hurried to the door, which opened to reveal Alicia on the stoop. But she wasn’t alone: Jerry Paxton had his arm around her shoulder. Sam, whose heart had earlier melted, now felt it suddenly freeze. Alicia looked at him in surprise and Jerry scowled.

  “What are you doing here, Faulkner? You get lost or something?”

  Helena spoke up. “It seems to me I can invite whoever I like to my house, Jerry.”

  Paxton made a vague gesture of apology. He said good-bye to Mrs. Todds, kissed her daughter on the cheek, and walked away, grumbling to himself.

  “Thanks a lot!” Alicia said to her mother once she was inside. “Now Jerry’s going to sulk for the next two days!”

  “If he doesn’t like you having your friends over, you better get him used to it right away,” replied her mother. “Anyway, now that you’re both here, I’ll leave you alone. I have some errands to run for your brother, Alicia. He’s going to Grandma’s tomorrow and I have to buy him some shirts. Sam, I’m really happy you dropped by. If you ever need anything, you let me know,” she said with a serious look. “And come back whenever you like!”

  She kissed him warmly while Alicia ran up the stairs. It was only at the top that the lovely girl deigned to turn around and look down at Sam.

  “What are you waiting for? Aren’t you coming up?”

  Alicia’s room was nothing like Lily’s: no pink anywhere, no Orlando Bloom as an elf, no menagerie of stuffed animals. Instead, there were dozens of black-and-white photographs on the walls: landscapes, street scenes both crowded and empty, farm machinery, animals, close-ups of fruit, self-portraits, schoolmates, and an enlarged picture of Jerry above the bed.

  “You do photography?” asked Sam.

  “For a while now, yeah.”

  After an awkward silence she went on. “Do you remember when we ordered pizzas for Mr. Roger across the street?” she continued. “I took pictures of the deliveryman and the way poor Mr. Roger looked with fourteen pizzas he hadn’t wanted. I guess it started with that.”

  Sam remembered the episode very well, including the fact that when Alicia’s pictures were discovered, they earned her a memorable punishment.

  “Well, they’re really nice — congratulations!”

  He wanted to praise the pictures enthusiastically, express his admiration with the right words, and all he could come up with was “They’re really nice — congratulations!”? Pathetic.

  He settled uneasily on the edge of the bed as Alicia slipped a White Stripes CD into the player. She sat down in a small red armchair and looked out the window at the garden while Jack White faced the Seven Nation Army, guitar in hand.

  At the third verse, Alicia finally spoke. “What exactly do you want, Sam?”

  “What do I want?”

  “Last week you came over to talk to me at the gym. Today you show up here at the house. You haven’t spoken to me in three years and now suddenly you’re all over the place. So I’m asking: What do you want?”

  There was no reason for this meeting to be easy, of course. But where to start?

  “I’m really sorry” he began. “I don’t have any excuse — I mean, I don’t have any good excuse. All those years, I felt like if I allowed myself even a minute of happiness, it was like I was betraying my mother. I had to suffer, you know? At least a tiny piece of what she suffered. I got that in my head and —” “What about me?” she asked angrily. “What was I supposed to do during that time?”

  “I’m really sorry, Alicia. I couldn’t help it.”

  “You know what I thought? That maybe you held me responsible for your mom’s death. You were at my house for a sleepover the night you got appendicitis, remember? If I hadn’t insisted you stay that evening, maybe you wouldn’t have gotten sick. You wouldn’t have gone to the hospital, your mom wouldn’t have had to take her car to go there, and …”

  She was clearly trying to keep a lid on her feelings, which seemed as sharp as ever three years later.

  “… she wouldn’t have had the accident,” she concluded. “That’s crazy!” protested Sam. “Totally crazy! I would never think something like that! You had nothing to do with it! If it was anybody’s fault, it was mine! I shouldn’t have gotten sick! I should’ve hung on, been stronger, that’s all!”

  He stopped, surprised by what he was saying. Was there a part of him that actually felt responsible for his mother’s death?

  Alicia was studying him from her armchair, less coldly now. To Sam, she looked even more beautiful.

  “You see what happens when you keep it all inside, Sam? I was hurt, you know; I was really hurt. I loved you, and I’m not ashamed to say so. The way a little girl loves her Prince Charming. And you were my Prince Charming. Then all of a sudden, pjft! As if I didn’t exist anymore. I was gone, scratched off the map. I’m sure it was horrible for you, but it wasn’t much fun for me either.”

  Silence fell between them as Jack White sang with conviction, “I don’t know what to do with myself.” Sam didn’t know what to do with himself either.

  “Listen, Sam, don’t be angry, but I’m not ready to see you again. Not now, anyway. Besides, there’s Jerry. He’s jealous, as I’m sure you noticed. Maybe later …”

  She gave him a thin, pained smile, and Sam suddenly realized what a terrible waste those lost years represented for the two of them.

  9 Pursued by a Bear

  The next morning, as Sam climbed through the Faulkner Bookstores back window, he was still filled with Alicia’s face and words; his heart felt almost bruised by their reunion. When he crossed the hall, it took him a moment to process what he saw in the main reading room — and then he stopped dead. The place looked as if a hurricane had hit it. The curtains were thrown open, halogen lamps knocked over, and sofas turned upside down. A mountain of books lay strewn on the floor. Sam ran to the front door, which was ajar, and saw that the lock had been smashed. A burglary! Someone had broken in! It could have been anyone looking for money or valuables — Barenboim Street wasn’t in the best of neighborhoods — but when it came to motive, there was only one likely suspect: the Arkeos man from the museum. But in that case … Sam felt a stab of fear rise from his stomach and shoot up his throat. The stone statue! What if the man was looking for the stone statue?

  In a panic, he raced down to the basement, rushed across the room, lifted the heavy unicorn tapestry, and burst into the secret storeroom. He grabbed the night-light and switched it on. Whew! The stone was still there, perfectly intact. Apparently nobody had been in the secret room. But then what could the burglar have been searching for?

  Sam went back upstairs, feeling puzzled. Everything had been turned upside down and carefully searched: drawers yanked open, cushions uncovered, and carpets lifted. One
of the tear-gas canisters his father had bought to protect the store had rolled under a radiator. But what seemed to have interested the intruder most were the books. All the shelves were empty. Several books had their covers ripped off; some were stacked, others scattered, and most had wound up in a pile in the middle of the reading room. It was impossible to tell if any works had been stolen, and if so, how many.

  Sam dropped into the only armchair still upright and stared at the disaster. What was the Arkeos man after? Information about Allan? The Book of Time? The black notebook? At that thought, Sam congratulated himself for having put both back in their hiding place, fiercely guarded by the vicious Zan. There, at least, they were safe.

  The question now was what to do about all this. He’d come to the bookstore that morning planning to go into Time again to continue his quest for two more coins. If he called Grandma now, she would notify the police, which would mean he wouldn’t have access to the stone statue until much later. But if Sam didn’t do anything, the store would remain unlocked and unguarded, and the Arkeos man could come back again at his leisure.

  He spent a moment weighing the pros and cons. Two measly little coins! That meant just a few round trips in Time, which wouldn’t take more than a few hours in the present. Besides, it wasn’t likely that the Arkeos man would dare to show up at the bookstore in broad daylight. If Sam was lucky, he might be able to get all seven coins by that evening. Then he could take care of the things he had to do: tell Grandma, call the police, and so on.

  Once Sam made his decision, he wedged a chair against the front door and changed into his stylish “time traveler” outfit from the Chez Faulkner fashion house. Then he went down to the basement and knelt beside the stone statue. He put two coins in the cavity — the museum coin and the Delphi coin — and placed the third, the one with Arabic writing, in the center of the sun. He waited for a few moments for the faint humming to begin. But just as he put his hand on the rough, rounded top, he heard steps in the basement.