The Time Seekers (The Soul Seekers Book 2)

by Amy Saia

  “You need something, ma’am?” the young man asked.

  “Yes.” I was almost too giddy. “Yes, I believe there’s a brown leather briefcase somewhere in here. It’s been misplaced. Well, not misplaced. I lost it. I can be so stupid sometimes.” I searched his empty expression. “I bet it’s right there in that back room of yours. Would you check, please?” I reached in my handbag for the fabric handkerchief William had given me—the one with little blue flowers printed on it. Sweat ran down my face, in my eyes and my hairline. It itched and dripped.

  He sniffled, then wiped his nose with a calloused finger. “I ain’t seen no briefcase.”

  “Oh, but, it has to be in here somewhere. If you’ll just check.” To think, only a day ago I was in a blizzard. It almost made me laugh. Who’d even believe I’d gone back in time? I should have brought a camera, so I could take pictures. I’d show them to Max and then sit back to watch his shocked expression.

  “Nope. I done checked everything this morning, and I never saw no briefcase.” The clerk sniffed again, clearing his throat of a large mass of phlegm.

  “Can you check again?” I maintained a civil tone, but wanted to snip at the young man. Everyone in town needed to read a customer service manual. Was it too much to ask for a little politeness? “Please?” I asked, managing a smile.

  He peered over his shoulder and then back at me. It appeared he was worried about an older clerk who was in a nearby cubby stamping papers. The clerk didn’t seem to notice our exchange, so the young man gave a shrug and said, “All right, I’ll check.”

  “Thank you.” There, see? A civil exchange. And now I’d get the briefcase, and the gun, and I’d go straight to William and dump the entire thing at his feet.

  Five suffocating minutes later, the clerk returned empty-handed. “Sorry, ma’m, it ain’t there.” He had a smug expression, and removed his cap momentarily to swipe at his forehead with the cuff of his uniform. “You need anything else?”

  “I need that briefcase,” I snapped.

  The older clerk glanced up from his papers, and the young man flushed. “I told you, it ain’t there. If it ain’t there, it ain’t there. Do you want to buy a ticket or something?”

  “No, I don’t want a ticket.” I took a deep breath. “Can I go back and look?” I pleaded with wide eyes, trying to reach into his heart. Unfortunately, I couldn’t get past his unblinking hazels. “It’s very important that I find it.”

  The older clerk rose out of his chair and came to the window. He wore a black silk vest which barely covered his protruding belly, and slacks held up by suspenders. His leather loafers click-clacked all the way across the wooden floor. “What’s the problem here?” he said. A pair of faded blue eyes scanned me up and down.

  “The problem,” I said, ignoring how the man’s eyes had settled uncomfortably at my chest area, “is that I need to find a briefcase, and I believe it’s here. But this young man says it isn’t. Maybe you haven’t ever heard of this little motto, but where I come from the customer is always right. If you’ll just let me back there, I think I’ll be able to find it. I’ll only take a few minutes, and then I’ll leave. Please?”

  The man cleared his throat. It appeared as if he were trying not to laugh. His hand fell onto the clerk’s shoulder and patted a few times. “Well, now, I trust this boy, and if he said he searched and it ain’t there, then it ain’t there.” The young man beamed at the older man, and then shot a smirk in my direction.

  I bit my tongue.

  What could I do? Run back there and risk having them chase me down? My intuition wasn’t very strong. Maybe I had only wished the briefcase was there out of desperation. A line formed behind me, and it was hot in the train station. I stood at the counter forever trying to make up my mind.

  “All right,” I said, surprised at how calm my voice sounded when it came out. “Could I at least write down my name and a place for you to reach me, in case the briefcase does end up being found?”

  I grabbed a small pad of paper and a short nub of a pencil and wrote down my name and Gran’s address. I tore it off and gave it to the young man. “It’s very important. There might even be a reward.” I thought of all the money William had given me and calculated how much it would cost to sway the young man.

  He sniffled and stared at the note. I watched him stick it into the front pocket of his uniform. “I’ll keep an eye out fer it,” he said, but he wasn’t very convincing.

  Outside again, I made my way toward the post office to get a quick sip of water from a drinking fountain. It tasted so good, so pure. Modern day water had a blandness to it. This water tasted like it’d come straight from the river, and was cold as a river, too. Lips still attached to the spigot’s stream, I caught sight of a familiar figure heading into the drugstore across the way. I straightened as his last bit of cuffed Levi’s disappeared behind the front glass door. Absentmindedly, I rubbed a hand across my dripping mouth.

  He was wearing the same ratty leather jacket, despite the terrible heat. I squinted to see his tall silhouette moving past a colorful display of cat-eye Esquire sunglasses and Motorola radios, both perfect for the beach.

  He crept through the aisles, searching for some object but never picking anything up. He appeared nervous. I saw him glance toward the front register several times. After a bit of deliberation, he snatched out at something and quickly shoved it into a side pocket. A few minutes later he did the same thing again, eyeing the register with caution. From what I’d been able to catch, the items were a packet of gum and a chocolate bar. Hardly worth the jail time if he happened to get caught.

  He headed for the exit, and I leaned into the fountain and pretended to take another drink. Cold water shot into my ear, but it felt good.

  The next place he visited was the hardware store. I couldn’t help it—I had to follow. He didn’t pickpocket this time; he bought nails and a new hammer and paid straight out at the front register with a few crumpled dollars drawn from the back pocket of his jeans.

  I watched as he leaned over the counter to speak to the store owner, making a motion like he had an invisible broom in his hands. The man, wearing a white apron and tan slacks, shook his head. William hung around the counter for another few minutes. When he glanced out the window and saw me there outside, his shoulders squared and his eyes narrowed. He grabbed the hammer, his change, then inserted everything into his back pocket with a hard shove.

  A few seconds later, he was outside with a heavy scowl on his face. He approached the drinking fountain and me like a speeding freight train, and I turned away as if I hadn’t seen him. It was impossible not to see him. My stomach twisted. Perspiration began to trickle under the sheer fabric of my blouse.

  His footsteps skidded. He yanked hard on my shoulder to twist me around.

  “Following me? After I told you not to show that face of yours again? You got a lot of nerve, little girl.” He moved closer, and my breath caught short. I felt a wall of hot brick hit my back. It scraped and gritted into the bare skin of my forearms. I had nowhere to go. His eyes pierced mine, stripping away every bit of confidence I had left inside. While I stammered, he leered.

  William placed his arm above me, palm resting on the wall. With his other hand, he pulled out a cigarette and lit up, all the time with those blue eyes beating down into mine.

  “What do you want from me?” he finally said.

  “Nothing.”

  “You came in my room last night.” His eyes scanned down to my chest and rose again.

  I shrugged, defiant now. My William would never stare at me like that.

  “You must got some reason.”

  Again, I shrugged. It was unbearably hot under his arm and with his body so close. I was wilting like an orchid. The sun cooked down on both of us.

  He shifted. “Listen, I told you, I’m
getting out of this place, so whatever you got with me, whatever it is you want, I ain’t your man. Anyways, who says I’d want to be with you? Sure, I was in for a short while last night, but no more, honey.” He scratched his neck a few times. “There is something I wanted to ask you, though. Where’d you really get all that money?” He raised an eyebrow. “Hmm?”

  It was hard to think. He resembled my William—every pore of his skin was familiar to me, to my heart. I wanted to wrap my arms around him and forget everything. “You gave it to me,” I said. “In a different time.”

  “I did, huh?”

  “Yes.”

  People passed by, and William glanced over his shoulder to size them up. After they left, he turned to me again. “Still playing that game,” he said under his breath. He took a few more drags of cigarette before tossing it down and crushing it with his boot heel.

  His fingers moved to my blouse collar, then my neck. Electricity sizzled under his touch. “Last night I, well, I said some things about you being my dream girl and all. And, well . . .” his voice trailed off. “And then I was real mean to you.” He checked to see if anyone was around. “Tell me about this mind reading stuff you mentioned. You ever think you can sense stuff? Or, like maybe you can guess things before they happen?”

  I nodded, and he seemed relieved.

  He let out a quiet laugh. “Jesus. I ain’t never talked to nobody about this stuff before—except my sister.” A long stream of air escaped his nose, and the next thing I knew, he had left me to go lean against the store entrance.

  I watched him slide a hand inside his jacket pocket to produce the chocolate bar he’d stolen, now half-melted. He opened the wrapper with careful fingers and pulled it up to his lips for a bite. Remembering I was still around, he broke away to offer me a nibble. “Want some?”

  “No, thanks.”

  He shrugged and proceeded to eat the entire thing. He even licked the wrapper clean, his fingers too. “They think I’m crazy.”

  “Who does?” I asked. A sort of tenderness filled me. He looked like a fugitive, this young William. Like a wounded animal. I moved into the entrance to join him, relieved to share the small bit of shade the awning provided.

  “The whole goddamned town, that’s who. But I ain’t asked for none of this, and I don’t need their approval.” His pupils narrowed into hard pinpoints. “If I could just get myself a decent job, then I’d make enough to get out of here. My sister, too.”

  We stood in silence for a long moment. He finally made a move to take off his leather jacket and, arms extended, slipped it from his shoulders with a shot of fine appraisal cast my way. “You sure got the curves.”

  “Thanks,” I replied, unsure if I should take it as a compliment or not. All this time I’d thought William had liked me skinny, but now I could see he preferred a real silhouette. His eyes were lit up like firecrackers—enough to make me blush.

  Flinging his jacket over a shoulder, he closed the space between us. “Dammit, but I’d sure like to have a go with you,” he said. His voice was soft and cunning. “But I told you, I’m gettin’ out of here. You got that, honey?”

  I nodded, careful not to say anything to scare him off.

  “Hey now, where’s my manners? Uh, why don’t you tell me your name—so I can call you something proper?”

  Strange having to tell your husband your name. “Emma,” I said, ducking when he yanked playfully on one of my earlobes. “I told you last night.”

  “Well, Emma, you can call me Billy like everyone else, or William. Whatever suits you. You sure do suit me. Hey, where you from, Emma?”

  I would make up something grand, because he was naïve and maybe it would make him trust me—see me as someone he could confide in. “New York,” I said at last, happy to receive an expression of awe.

  “New York,” he repeated. “That’s a big place, right? They got a lot of writers up there? Why, a fella like me’d get lost, probably. I bet you’ve met a lot big people in New York. Important folks.”

  “Sure.” I’d never been, but Jesse had wanted to go because it was the city where anything could happen and no one ever slept. All those plans of being a famous rock star and me tagging along. I would have done it, too, if I hadn’t met William. But I did meet William, and I’d loved him more than Jesse. Enough to say no to New York and kill all his dreams.

  “So what are you doing here in Springvale, then? I mean, why the heck would someone like you want to come here?”

  “I’m here on important business.”

  “Is that so?”

  “Yes,” I said, keenly aware of what little space remained between us.

  “What kind?” he asked.

  “Life and death.”

  “In Springvale?” His eyes were soft now. I felt like a mouse ready to be pounced on, but I had no desire to run. I wanted to stay right here.

  “You think someone like me could make it in New York?”

  “Of course.”

  He hesitated and made a move to touch my cheek. Hot breath swept around my face. “Maybe I’ll go someday then, if there’s girls like you.” His lips barely brushed mine. I thought of all the times we’d made love. All those beautiful nights and mornings spent wrapped inside his arms. I searched his eyes. Kiss me, William, or Billy—whoever you are, kiss me. Maybe you’ll remember, maybe you won’t, but please, kiss me again.

  “Stop that!” he growled, backing away. “You’re some kind of witch, putting thoughts in my head like that! Trying to win me over? So you can get something, only I don’t understand what it is. Well, no way. You ain’t gettin’ no piece of me.” His fists balled up, and it looked like he might hit something. He grabbed me by the shoulders and gave a hard shake, lips snarled in anger. “I almost fell for it!”

  I stammered, wishing I hadn’t spoken to him again. It hurt worse this time than the others.

  He let go and backed away. “Stay away, you hear? Quit gettin’ in my head, making me think things so that I—” He kicked at the brick wall. “Maybe I am crazy like they all say—but you’re the craziest one of all!” He gave me one last angry glance and then shot off down the sidewalk.

  I heard the fading pattern of his boot heels on concrete, and then a car drove past, and somewhere far off in the distance, a church bell clanged the hour. A hot breeze rushed into the alcove; it picked up the spent candy wrapper and dropped it on my toes. I reached down before another breeze could take it away. The phantom smell of chocolate permeated the wrapper, though the candy had long been devoured. For a long time, I held it to my nose and breathed in the heavy, sweet scent. Cellophane crinkled like a lifeless skin inside the palm of my hand.

  I crushed it into a ball.

  ¤ ¤ ¤

  While brushing my hair, she told me stories—stories of all the places she’d go, and what she’d do once Springvale was a mere speck on the horizon. She’d dreamed of it for years, been planning, and now her time to leave was almost near. I was an angel, she said. An angel sent from heaven. I would help her leave, and this was all meant to be.

  Her fingers were nimble, pulling and twisting, and I was transported into my upstairs bedroom in Colorado Springs with a window facing out to Pikes Peak.

  Afterwards, I stood in the vanity mirror and stared at two tightly woven braids; reminiscent of the kind she’d given me every night before bed when I was her little girl, sans my favorite rainbow barrettes. Tears sprang to my eyes. Oh Mother, Mother. Where did it all go wrong? Why did you let his death ruin everything?

  I lifted a tapered end and tickled my cheek with it, then turned to her. She jumped off the bed. “Oh, please don’t scowl like that. Have you made up your mind yet? You’ll help me get out of here, won’t you?”

  This wasn’t why I’d come. I’d done it for William, for the baby, for me. Not her.


  The vanity mirror was studded with pictures of movie stars and faraway places. She’d pulled them from magazines and added little captions: My honeymoon spot. Wish you were here. Get your kicks . . .

  What would it hurt to help? She’d find her way out on her own—time had proven this—but not without severing her relationship with Gran. If I stepped in, the blame would be on me, and I’d be long gone before that happened. They’d still love each other, and years from now that love would remain. Maybe it’d even save Gran’s life. Maybe, like William had tried so hard to explain to me in the library, this was a file of its own—the Grandmother Carrie and Pauline file—and I could affect it the way I wanted to. And I wanted to.

  Very badly.

  I turned and once again felt a pang of shock at how smooth and unlined my mother’s face was. She held her breath, waiting for me to say something. So I gave her what she wanted. “Your mother’s not going to like this,” I let out, thinking of my conversation with Gran and how upset she’d be. But it was fate I was helping more than anything else. She couldn’t see it now, but it would help, in slow increments of days and months and years.

  A pair of arms clamped around me in sudden happiness. “Oh, you won’t regret it! I promise.”

  “Shh!”

  From downstairs came the sound of Jack Benny on the TV, and Grandpa Jack laughing. It reverberated through the open bedroom door. Pauline rushed over to close it, and came back with a hand over her mouth.

  “I don’t think they heard,” she whispered.

  “So, what was that secret you were going to tell on me—the one you mentioned earlier?” I sat on the cot. A loud chorus of rusty springs told me I was pushing the weight limit.