The Wayfarer's Daughter: A Time Travel Romance (The Wayfarer Series Book 2)

by Jennifer L. Hayes

  Chapter 3

  What Are Friends For

  “I cannot believe you are serious, Em.” April half-sat on my bed watching as I packed a bag.

  “I know this doesn’t make sense to you—it hardly does to me too—but right now I need you to trust me.”

  “That would be easier if you weren’t behaving like a fruit loop,” April huffed.

  “Come on, April, you’ve known me for a long time, please just have a little faith.”

  “Why can’t you tell me what’s really going on? I mean, you move out here, get engaged, have an accident and then break up with Ben… I’m here if you want to talk about it. I didn’t fly halfway across the world to watch you throw your life away.”

  April had arrived on my doorstep the day after I came out of the hospital. Of course with everything as it was, I’d forgotten about her trip and not picked her up at the airport as we’d planned. Instead, she’d taken an Uber all the way from Heathrow and had been sitting on her suitcase as I pulled up from my checkup with my consultant.

  Consultant. Just a fancy word the English liked to use for doctor.

  My head was still spinning from the last twenty-four hours, not least of which was the surprise result from my blood tests.

  “Did you know that you are pregnant?” The consultant had obviously felt like he was delivering some good news for a change.

  “No, I, um… we hadn’t, well, we were…” Ben ran his hands through his hair in the way he did when he was anxious.

  “What do you mean? That’s impossible!” I snapped to attention. “I’m on birth control pills.”

  The doctor looked from Ben to me, not sure whom he should be addressing.

  “Well, they’re not always one hundred percent effective.” Unable to mask his air of superiority, he continued. “If you miss any you are far more likely to get pregnant.” There was a slight accusation in his tone that I didn’t like.

  “I never miss taking…” My resolve weakened when I thought of my week with Henry and the night we’d got together. “Impossible.”

  How could that be? Could that be? It was just the one time.

  “Well, not entirely impossible, it happens all the time.” The consultant had misunderstood that I hadn’t directed my last statement to him specifically. I was still too deep in my own thoughts to correct him.

  Ben looked like he’d been run over with a truck. He had always maintained that children were in his very distant future. He was white and I thought he might actually pass out. The consultant, feeling uncomfortable, checked his watch and tapped his pen on his desk, signaling that he needed to wrap this up.

  After that, during the drive back to the cottage, my mind had been whirling.

  Like every woman does, I tried to recall my last period. It had ended the day before I was whisked back to 1854. So it had most likely started seven days before that and my night with Henry had happened…

  Ben moved his left hand off the steering wheel and rested it on my leg.

  “Emma, we need to talk about this. I mean, we couldn’t possibly…” He struggled to find his words. “It’s early, we should just deal with this and pretend like it never happened.”

  Every fiber of my being froze. Had I actually heard him correctly? Did he mean terminate the pregnancy? Okay, okay, I’d always been a pro-choice kinda gal, no judgment, but now we were talking about me and my body. Not only that, but this was most definitely Henry’s child. Obviously, Ben had no idea of that little fact—as far as he was concerned it was his. Guilt seeped through the fog in my head. I would need to come clean soon, otherwise that would be cruel.

  “I can’t just pretend this never happened,” I said calmly, not wanting to fight.

  “Well now, with your condition and my new job, it’s hardly the time to start planning a family. I mean, let’s be practical here.”

  “Why are you doing this now?” The last thing I wanted was to have this conversation in the car.

  “I’ve been through enough these last few days. I just don’t think we could even entertain such an…” He could hardly find the right word, it seemed.

  “You’ve been through enough?” I thundered back in disbelief. Let me list to you all that I’ve been through this past week… oh, but wait a minute, you don’t even believe me.

  Beads of sweat had formed on his brow. He seemed to be struggling like a fish out of water. “I just meant… you know, there are options we should consi—”

  “Pull over!”

  “Em, don’t overreact.”

  “Please, we can’t have this conversation while you’re driving.”

  He turned the car off to the shoulder of the road and turned off the engine.

  “I know all of this has come as a shock to you but Em, you’ve always been a practical girl. We don’t have to take any action immediately but we do need to think—” He winced at my expression. “We can handle this together,” he continued but without much resolve.

  This was not how I’d wanted this conversation to go. It was certainly not how I wanted it to start, but things needed to be said and done and waiting did not seem like an option.

  “I know you mean well, but I just can’t do this. You are a good man, so I will choose to overlook your incredibly poor choice of words and timing because I do care for you.”

  “I know you do, and that’s why—”

  “Shh… please don’t interrupt me. Because I care for you I have to be honest and the truth is, I cannot marry you. You deserve to be loved and cherished. You need to be with the person who would move mountains to be with you and I just don’t think that I’m that woman.”

  “What are you talking about? Is it the pregnancy that’s tipped you over the edge?”

  “No, it’s not. I just don’t love you the way you deserve to be loved. You are a great guy, but I can’t stay with you because it’s the easy or practical thing to do. And to be honest, once I’ve told you everything I’m quite sure you will agree.” He needed to know that the child was not his. I owed him that.

  “How could you say that?” He looked a little wounded but not devastated. “This is not over. You can’t just do that. You’re obviously not in your right mind, so I’ll give you some time to process. I do love you, Emma.”

  And so I told him about Henry. I did, however, omit the part about time-traveling as I already knew he would not believe it.

  The rest of the drive was in silence.

  We both saw April sitting on her suitcase talking on her cellphone when we pulled in to the little cottage. I couldn’t believe I’d forgotten her.

  Now I looked to my friend, who was perched on my bed looking concerned. Ben had gone to stay with his parents while I packed up my things.

  “April, I need your support right now. Be the amazing friend and just stop questioning me. I will tell you everything, but there are things I don’t even understand enough to share yet.”

  “All right. I’m sorry. You know I love you. What should I do?”

  “I want you to go up to Manchester with me. I need to find my mother’s family.”

  “You got it! Are there hot guys in Manchester?”

  “Do soccer players count? Because they have two of the best teams.”

  “Sold! Promise me one thing, Em?”

  “What?”

  “You’ll go dancing with me at least once.”

  “Done.”

  I put the last few things in my bag and then sat down on the chair by the window. My body and mind felt shattered, but now I had even more reason to sort this mess out. Without a thought my hand rested protectively on my abdomen. I felt a familiar tug in my chest as I thought of my own mother and wondered if she had also been protective of me from the beginning.

  Inevitably, every time I thought of her I also thought of losing her. There was something puzzling about her accident all those years ago. The reports, which I’d recently found in one of the old file boxes I’d brought in the move, stated that the car had collid
ed with the center divide and exploded into flames. With no other vehicles apparently involved, they concluded it had most likely been due to the storm—a storm that had by all accounts been their worst in decades. The fire department suggested that the heat of the fire might have been enough to account for the distinct lack of a body. The temperature needed to do that was not typical in such a fire but possible.

  Of course, knowing what I now knew about being a wayfarer, that was not the only plausible explanation. If she had instead vanished into another time, wouldn’t she have been desperate to come back to me, her daughter? Recently, more and more I twirled the different scenarios around in my head, but I always came up with the same conclusion. She must have died, if not in this time then in another.

  Chapter 4

  Manchester Airport

  Sixteeen Years Earlier

  Eileen Farrar knew the air outside was charged and dangerous. There was always a risk, but it was a chance she had to take. Her sister Emily had called yesterday with the news that their mother would not make it. Arrangements had been made and Eileen had hopped on the first flight out of LAX to Heathrow. Changing planes in Heathrow, she’d had to run for her connection to Manchester, but with only a carry-on she wasn’t worried about any bags. Now she was making the forty-five-minute drive to their family home near Buxton.

  She felt a familiar tingle in her limbs and the sweet, pungent zing in her nostrils from the coming storm, making her a little more tense. With a little luck, she’d be able to outrun the storm. Had it not been for the angry words she’d last spoken to her mother and the need to reconcile before it was too late, she would never have taken the chance. But she knew she would never be able to live with herself if she’d not done everything in her power to be there.

  Her daughter Emma had been so crushed that she couldn’t come too. Emma had never really met her family, for good reason, and Eileen was certainly not about to waver on that decision. It was for the best.

  That was what Eileen always told herself.

  The less Emma knew the better.

  Emma was in the safest place possible—well, if you didn’t consider earthquakes, mudslides and wildfires dangerous. By Eileen’s estimation, they were nothing compared to the dangers that lurked here in her home country.

  Dangers most people never even knew existed. And for most people these dangers did not exist. Only a precious few.

  Her daughter was in a safe place, Eileen told herself. With a man who loved her as if she were his own flesh and blood. He had always been good to Emma and to her, really. Who took in a woman with a small baby with no questions asked? He was truly one of a kind and she dearly liked him, maybe even loved to a certain degree. She knew he did love her. There was no question about that.

  They had a very comfortable life in California. Emma at eight had wisdom far beyond her years. So many times Eileen had thought to tell her about her family and what they were but fear had always held her back. Fear that Emma’s curiosity might get the better of her and steer her right into danger.

  Sometimes, when Eileen lay cuddling her in bed after a book, she’d stroke Emma’s hair and tell her how special she was. Emma’s sleepy eyes always struggled to stay open, never wanting to miss a single thing. Her daughter was special all right, and not just in the way that all kids were to their parents—she was gifted and powerful in a way that also put her life in grave danger.

  Eileen’s move to California had been a calculated decision. Perhaps if she moved far enough away where electrical storms were less frequent, she could spare her daughter the same fate. Without the maelstrom of magic that swirled through the English countryside beckoning her, perhaps Emma would have a chance at a normal life.

  She had left her old life behind without ever turning back.

  Until now.

  Her own mother had urged her to make a different choice, but Eileen had refused to listen. If she didn’t teach Emma about what she was maybe, just maybe Emma would not suffer as Eileen had. To Eileen’s mother, her abilities were a gift, but in her own mind they had always been a curse. She had learned to survive but just barely. The life of a wayfarer was lonely.

  Her mobile phone rang. It was most likely her sister.

  She dug through her handbag with her left hand until she felt the weight of her mobile. In one fluid move, she flipped it open and held it to her ear.

  “Where are you?” Her sister sounded tired.

  “Just on the M67. How’s Mum?”

  “She’s asking for you.”

  “I’ll be there in thirty minutes.”

  “Did you bring Em?”

  “Jesus Christ, of course I didn’t. You know that’s impossible.”

  “I get it, but Mum’s asking for her.”

  “So she’s conscious then?”

  “In and out. She’s barely coherent most of the time. She’s been talking in that language of hers. I think it’s some sort of prayer. It’s slightly terrifying, to be honest.”

  “Please tell her I’ll be there soon.”

  “I will.” Her sister sighed. “And Eileen, please be careful.”

  “Always.”

  Eileen’s mother Enda was a very old woman. In fact, very old didn’t even begin to describe her accurately. Her body, while only eighty years of age, looked like any other elderly woman’s in Britain. The deep wrinkles told the tale of a full life. A hard one. Her spirit on the other hand had seen so many things and lived so many centuries of change that to simply describe her as old didn’t seem enough. Born in the Iron Age as the only daughter of a Druid priest, she’d been forced to flee persecution and death. Skipping through the centuries as one might travel the countries in Europe, she’d developed a keen ability to assimilate and absorb vast cultural experiences. Unlike most of her kind, she had the unique gift of moving forward instead of backwards. As she told it, she was one of the first of her kind.

  Enda was a hard woman and expected her girls to be the same. Eileen had never shared her ability to go to the future—she only traveled backwards and somehow, to her mother, that was an epic failure.

  “Fear. That’s all it is,” her mother would tell her.

  While the idea of the future did seem dreadfully scary, Eileen always felt that her problem wasn’t fear at all. It was a lack of desire.

  She wondered if her daughter would grow up to be more like her.

  Eileen pictured Emma’s golden hair and hazel eyes and longed to be with her this very moment. To be there for her, like Eileen’s mother had never been for her. Unconditionally and without judgment.

  A loud clap of thunder set her nerves on end.

  Eileen gripped the steering wheel with a newfound panic. A tingling sensation burst through her body, making her fingertips and toes numb.

  There was an urge to reach for her phone. She desperately wanted to hear her daughter’s voice. As if it would keep her grounded to this time.

  The sky lit up like a bright summer’s day and before she could even react the vibrations took hold of her and just as her car left the road and headed straight for the center divide her body was lifted and thrown into a dizzying tailspin until her world went black.

  The only thought that washed through her in that moment was of Emma.

  Her dear sweet Emma.

  Chapter 5

  Ashes to Ashes

  The carriage pitched forward and Henry braced himself against the smooth leather seat. Pain shot through his torso with every bump of the dirt road.

  McCleary, the stable master, was acting as coachman, as Henry had been forced to sack Harris due to his compulsion for thievery. At the moment Henry wished he hadn’t, as Harris’ skill at driving had been far superior to that of his successor.

  The earl crossed his legs and surveyed his son. Both men were stuck with little to say. Every so often his father would sigh loud enough for Henry to hear.

  Henry focused instead on a way to prove Miss Clayton’s innocence. He could hardly come out and tell his fath
er the truth as he now knew it. He would find himself lodging with the lunatics at Colney Hatch Asylum. A grim thought indeed.

  No, he had to find this William White and expose him and Isobel.

  That could be a difficult feat.

  Where on earth would Miss Clayton have gone? Without her, it would be near impossible to build a convincing defense.

  How she had managed to break free was somewhat of a mystery. The second constable was reluctant to give them an actual account but judging from his bloody nose Henry could hardly press the man into admitting that a mere woman had beaten him senseless.

  A small chuckle escaped his lips at the thought of it. His father rewarded that with a scowl.

  This is no time for follies, his father would most likely say if he wasn’t already too angry to speak.

  Henry knew his leg was likely not broken but it was still much too tender to take any weight. He’d have Miss Barnsby fetch him a brace from town so that he could bind it. It would be several weeks before it would be properly healed, a dreadful inconvenience.

  This thought caused a new wave of anxiety as he needed to find Miss Clayton and clear her reputation. Both of which required the use of his legs.

  “Tell me again, son, about the man who shot you.”

  His father’s request came as a little bit of a surprise.

  “Miss Clayton saw the man, Father, and recognized him as a William White.”

  “I don’t believe I know such a man. And you are convinced of her account? Are you quite sure she didn’t shoot you herself?”

  “Quite sure, Father,” Henry answered with no small amount of disdain and more patience than he was feeling.

  All of a sudden he heard shouting from the distance.

  The earl tapped his cane on the top of the carriage and called to the driver. “McCleary, what’s amiss?”

  “Not sure, my lord, but here comes young Jamie on horseback.”

  The carriage came to a sudden stop, sending Henry out of his seat and cursing under his breath from the pain.