Timeless (15 page)

I thanked her, promised to call again if I
needed help and then left, climbing into the Saratoga. The small
clock I’d duct-taped to the dash said seven o’clock.

“Oh no!” I cried. I’d totally forgotten
Ben.

I cranked the car, hoping that today wasn’t
the day when it she’d decided to die on me. I felt relieved when it
started. I shook my head to clear it before putting it into
reverse. I still felt disoriented. Ramona came out of her store,
and I rolled the window down.
“Why don’t you let me drive you home? You can pick up your car
tomorrow,” she said.

I started to decline but thought better of
it.

“Alright,” I agreed, holding my head in my
hands.

I shut the Saratoga off, and Ramona brought
her pink Cadillac from around back. I looked at her, surprised.

“I sell Mary Kay too. On the side,” she said
sheepishly.

I laughed, amused despite my headache.

“Oh, just get in, Emily,” she said
impatiently. I climbed into the passenger’s side, disbelieving that
this psychic-hypnotist-witch helping me to save Damien was also a
Mary Kay lady—and a very successful one by the looks of it.

“Where do you live?” she asked.

“Not too far. Actually, I can walk and get
the Saratoga tomorrow,” I said, starting to get out. I’d troubled
her enough today.

She caught me by the arm.

“No, I don’t think that’s a good idea. Your
vision may still be blurry tonight, and it’s unsafe,” she
explained.

“Can’t you predict it?”

“Yes,” she smiled. “I see you getting home
just fine because I drove you,” she said, starting the car.

I gave her directions to Aunt Jo’s house,
feeling a little ridiculous that she’d driven me since we lived
just a few blocks away. I could have walked, but admittedly, I did
still feel strange.

We arrived in less than five minutes.

Aunt Jo was at the door, and it looked like
Ben was with her.

“Remember, Emily. I’m here if you need me,”
Ramona said before I opened the passenger’s side.

“Yeah, I’ll remember,” I said, climbing out
and shutting the door.

Ben was already coming down the front
steps.

“Hey, Em. Where were you? And who was that?”
he asked when Ramona had driven off.

“Nobody. Just a friend,” I said evasively. My
head throbbed.

“Which is it?”

“What? Oh, sorry,” I mumbled.

He stood waiting for an explanation.

How could I tell him I’d dreamed of my past
life and a medieval lover who was trying to get in touch with me?
Hi Ben, how was your Saturday? Mine was filled with hypnosis, in
which I’ve discovered that I drowned in a former life. I’m going to
England to try and bring back my true love. Oh, and by the way, I’m
a witch.

Instead, I settled for, “Ben, it’s been a
long afternoon of researching the past. I’m pretty tired.”

That was the truth, sort of. I felt horrible
and wished I’d asked Ramona for more of her soothing tea before I
left.

“Wait a minute. I thought we were going out,”
he protested, catching my arm as I went by him.

“I have a splitting headache. I’ll call you
tomorrow, okay?”

He looked hurt, and I felt bad.

“Okay. I was just worried, that’s all. I hope
you feel better,” he said and turned to go.

I watched him get into his truck and then
looked down at the emerald ring he’d given me. The tears began to
form in my eyes.

I slowly climbed the steps, and Aunt Jo
waited for me at the top.

“Everything okay, Em?” she asked.

“Yeah. I just have a headache.”

“Annie called.”

“Oh yeah? What time?”

“About thirty minutes ago. Where have you
been? And who was that?”

“The lady who owns that weird shop a few
blocks from here,” I said, not wanting to explain. I was too
drained for this. I couldn’t tell anyone what I’d seen that
afternoon. They would’ve thought I was crazy. Even I wasn’t totally
convinced that what I’d experienced was real.

“How about some dinner?” she asked gently. I
loved that Aunt Jo didn’t ask too many questions. She knew I’d talk
when I was ready.

“Not tonight, Aunt Jo. I think I’m just going
to go to bed.”

The Duchess eyed me suspiciously, as if she’d
known what I’d been up to. She followed me up the stairs and into
the bathroom—odd behavior for her. Like me, she didn’t much like
water and usually avoided this room altogether.

I decided to take a hot shower before going
to bed, despite having drowned that day. I felt too drained even to
feel much fear of water, for the worst had, after all, already
happened.

My thoughts circled round in a tailspin. How
was I going to know where to find Damien? What if I couldn’t
concentrate enough for it to work? And the scariest question: what
if it did work? What would I do with Damien once he was here?

I mentally shook my head. Part of me knew
that this was completely ridiculous. I stroked the Duchess’s back,
and she purred. What do you think? I asked her without
speaking.

As if reading my thoughts, she nudged my
jeans, which I’d taken off and thrown to the floor, with her paw.
What? I asked her.

She put her head into my jean pocket and
pulled out the permission slip I’d gotten from Mr. Dean after
school on Friday.

She knows, I thought, shaking my head.

What if I can’t do it? I wondered.

She dropped the slip at my feet and pranced
away, but before she slipped around the door, she looked at me one
last time as if to say, I’m not a scared-y cat!

Chapter Eight

"Torn"

Who then devised the torment? Love.

Love is the unfamiliar Name

Behind the hands that wove

The intolerable shirt of flame

Which human power cannot remove.

T. S. Eliot, “Little Gidding”

Damien and I ran, holding hands, but this
time, we didn’t try to escape from Lamia. We laughed together,
wearing different, more modern clothes. I recognized the place, the
clearing just in front of the chapel ruins, where the woods opened
to allow sunlight to filter. But the place held no danger for us.
We stopped and stood facing each other; he bent down to kiss me and
then started to lick my face, his furry face nuzzling mine.

“Ewww! Duchess! Get off of me!” I protested,
waking up.

I heard the alarm then. I must have been
sleeping deeply. I reached over to shut it off and realized I was
going to be late for school. Ben was supposed to pick me up in ten
minutes.

Ben.

What was I going to do about him? It wasn’t
as though I didn’t love him anymore. What I felt for him was real,
but it wasn’t as intense as my love for Damien was. I got up and
reached for the photo Aunt Jo had taken of Ben and me about to ride
a roller coaster. It was just before Mom got sick. We looked so
happy together.

What would I tell him? What could I tell him?
I’m in love with a knight who died almost eight hundred years ago.
And then it hit me. Damien had died. The feeling of loss welled up
in me, as though I’d just lost him, which of course I had. The
overwhelming sense of despair and grief tore at me, and I began to
sob.

Aunt Jo knocked on the door, and when I
didn’t answer, she came in.

“What’s wrong?” she exclaimed, running over
to put her arms around me.

“Nothing,” I choked out, wiping my face in my
nightgown.

“What’s going on?” she asked.

“I can’t talk about it,” I said through
sniffles. And I couldn’t.

“Is it Ben?” she asked, intuitively going to
the heart of one problem.

I thought for a moment. It was going to come.
I couldn’t be with him and still love Damien, even if he was dead.
That wasn’t fair to Ben.

“Yes,” I said, nodding. It wasn’t a lie. Even
though we hadn’t yet broken up, it would have to be soon. I
couldn’t hide this from Ben much longer.

Aunt Jo knew better than to ask questions.
She let me have my personal life, lending an ear when I needed it.
Otherwise, she stayed out of my business. She continued to hold me,
and I cried on her shoulder until I heard Ben’s pick-up out
front.

“What’s he doing here?” Aunt Jo asked. She
assumed it had already happened.

“He doesn’t know yet,” I said.

I could see the confusion in her eyes.

“I’ll tell him you’re not well and that I’m
taking you to school,” she offered, getting up.

I shot her a grateful look. I could always
count on Aunt Jo.

A few minutes later, I heard Ben start up the
engine again, and by the time Aunt Jo came back inside, I felt and
looked more composed.

“What did he say?” I asked.

“Oh, not too much. He just looked a little
surprised and offered to come up. I told him I thought it was girl
stuff,” she said.

“Aunt Jo!”

But I was grateful, nonetheless.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she
asked.

I did want to tell her. But I had no idea
where to begin.

She started for me.

“Why are you breaking up with Ben, Emily?
He’s a nice boy, and you’ve been inseparable for as long as you’ve
lived here.”

“I know,” I said miserably.

I could feel myself starting to cry again and
fought back the tears.

“Did Ben do something to hurt you?” she asked
kindly.

“No, it’s nothing like that.”

I hesitated then plunged in.

“Aunt Jo, I’ve been having these dreams.”

“What kinds of dreams?”

And then I tried telling her. I could see
that she wanted to understand, but of course she didn’t know how
this was connected to Ben.

I decided to take a slight detour.

“Do you remember the lady who took me home on
Saturday?”

“Yes. And when I went to pick up the Saratoga
yesterday, she looked even stranger in the daylight.”

I felt guilty. I’d totally forgotten the car.
This wasn’t going well.

“Emily, you’ve been under a lot of stress
lately with school, and I know it’s been a difficult year,” Aunt Jo
said slowly, thinking, perhaps, that I was suffering from some sort
of post-traumatic stress because of Mom. I wondered what she’d
think if I told her I’d just experienced a past life.

I didn’t answer. I knew she wanted to help.
And I was trying to explain it, but how could I? I didn’t even
understand it myself. I decided to change the conversation. I
probably needed to assure her I wasn’t going crazy.

“I was thinking…would you let me go on the
spring break trip to Europe?” I asked suddenly.

Her face lit up.

“Emily, I think that’s a wonderful idea!”

She grabbed the tissue box from the dresser
and began telling me about her own experiences abroad as a young
woman, but I wasn’t listening. I couldn’t tell her I was a witch. I
wasn’t even sure if I was a witch. And if I hadn’t actually
experienced the past for myself, I never would have believed anyone
else claiming to have special powers. It was hopeless. I had to
keep it to myself, and that was that.

I looked up and saw that Aunt Jo had asked me
a question.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“I said, do you want some breakfast?”

“No thanks. I better get going.”

“I promised to take you to school.”

“That’s okay. I’ll try taking the Saratoga.
Can you write me a note?”

“Sure. But if you want to stay home today, it
will be okay with me.”

I thought about it, but then remembered that
today was the deadline for getting Mr. Dean the permission slip for
the trip.

“That’s okay. I just need you to sign
something for me. I’ll have to put down a deposit by next month for
the airline ticket,” I said, searching for the slip among the
clutter on the floor.

“Alright. But you’d better be good with that
paintbrush. We still have three rooms left,” she said, glad I no
longer looked upset.

We both laughed, and I felt some better. But
I knew I’d have to face Ben at some point.

Wearily, I got up and dressed, not caring
much how I looked. How could I explain to anyone that I felt the
deepest grief a person could feel, especially when it was for
someone nobody, including me, had ever met?

Even Annie, who knew some of this, wouldn’t
understand.

****

I arrived to school later than I thought,
missing first period entirely. I couldn’t say I was sorry. It was
calculus, after all. I liked second period and my English teacher,
Ms. May, much better than math class.

I presented her the hastily written note by
Aunt Jo and took my seat in the back beside Ben. We had several
classes together, and this was one of them.

“Are you okay?” he whispered.

I couldn’t meet his eyes.

“Yeah,” I replied, concentrating on the book
in front of me, Things Fall Apart.

Things do fall apart, I thought sadly. Even
though I regretted having to break up with Ben, I had no
choice.

“Ben, I need to see you after school,” I
whispered near the end of class.

He smiled at me, full of confidence until he
saw my face. His face filled with concern.

“Okay, sure. I was going to wait for you
anyway,” he said slowly.

“Excuse me, is there something you two want
to share with the class?” Ms. May said, turning her short blond
head towards us.
She had caught us talking instead of paying attention to the board.
I could sense everyone’s eyes on us and felt my face turning
red.

“No,” we both answered together. I didn’t
meet Ben’s eye for the rest of class.

After third period, I had a study break, then
lunch, which would be the hardest. I knew I couldn’t force any
false chattiness with everyone, especially Ben. I just couldn’t
fake it. So I thought I’d slip out the back and go around to one of
the tables that faced the parking lot. I hoped that Annie or Ben or
one of the people sitting at our lunch table wouldn’t see me.