19. Unexpected Consequences
Their feet touched solid ground. Seth let go of Devynn and reached around to feel his back, almost positive that Samuel’s bullet must have hit its target.
But his searching fingers found only dry wool, and there definitely wasn’t any pain, nothing to indicate he’d been shot.
“Are you all right?” he asked Devynn.
“I’m fine,” she said.
Her face was pale, but her voice sounded strong enough, so he knew she was telling the truth. He glanced away from her, and saw they stood in a place so familiar to him, he probably could have navigated it in his sleep.
Main Street, Jerome.
In fact, they had emerged right in front of McAllister Mercantile. The air touching his face was cool but not cold, and a brisk wind ruffled his hair.
What time of year was it? Definitely not summer, but….
He scanned the street around them, and something in his stomach tightened. Yes, the buildings were familiar, but now he noted that several of them had boarded-up windows, and although cars were parked on the street, the place didn’t seem nearly as bustling as he remembered.
Also, these cars were strange, their shapes far more curved than the boxy vehicles of his own time. And although the building in front of them was the same general store that had been a part of his life since the day he was born, the sign above the front door looked different, the font used to spell out the mercantile’s name not nearly as fancy as he remembered, but blocky and straightforward.
“When are we?” he asked, and Devynn shook her head, her expression now worried.
“I’m not sure,” she said. “I can tell we’re in the past, but I don’t think it’s your past.”
No, it most definitely wasn’t.
A few leaves scurried across the empty street, only seeming to emphasize the somehow forlorn feeling of the place.
What had happened here?
A man emerged from McAllister Mercantile. He looked vaguely familiar, but….
“Seth?” the man said, his voice incredulous.
Dear Goddess.
The man was his brother Charles.
A very changed Charles, with gray showing in his light brown hair and deep lines of dissatisfaction cut around his eyes and dragging their way down from nostril to mouth.
Seth wanted to ask how any of this was possible, but he already knew the answer.
The woman standing next to him, her arm now locked with his as though she feared if she didn’t hang on, she might collapse.
“You — ” Charles began, then ran a hand through his hair. At least it looked almost as thick as ever, even with all the gray. “You haven’t aged a day! Where have you been?”
“In the past,” Seth replied. He was sure of that much, even if everything else about his world felt as though it had been tilted on its axis.
Why this time? Why not the glowing twenty-first century Devynn had spoken of, and if not that, then at least his own familiar decade?
Because she didn’t have any time to prepare, he thought. You translocated, and she time-jumped, all in a panic. You’re lucky you ended up in Jerome at all.
Maybe so.
“Where — ”he began, then paused. “What year is it?”
Charles stared at him for a second or two, his expression that of a man who wasn’t sure whether he was dreaming…or having a nightmare.
“It’s 1947,” he said flatly.
Twenty-one years. They’d missed the mark by twenty-one years…or actually, a hell of a lot more, if you considered that Devynn had probably been aiming for her own decade.
“What the hell are you wearing?” Charles asked next, and Seth summoned a weary smile.
“We were assured it was the top of fashion in 1884,” he replied. “But if the store is still selling ready-made clothes, it’s probably a good idea for Devynn and me to climb out of these getups.”
Charles’s eyes narrowed, deepening the lines around them. “What happened to ‘Deborah’?”
“It was the name I used while I was in your time,” she said crisply. “Back then, I was doing my best to hide who I was and where — I mean, when — I came from. But I suppose the cat is out of the bag now, so I’d prefer to go by my real name. I can’t tell you how many times I almost forgot to reply when someone referred to me as Deborah.”
This remark was accompanied by the sort of smile that always had an effect on Seth. His brother, on the other hand, seemed uniquely impervious to its charms.
“Hell of a name for a woman,” he remarked, then went on, “But sure, we’ve got clothes in the store. Come inside.”
He headed back into the mercantile, with Seth and Devynn trailing behind him. She sent him a questioning look, but Seth only shook his head. They’d need to talk, of course, but for now, the smartest thing would be to get situated, and that meant exchanging their Victorian attire for something more period-appropriate.
Good thing Main Street had been so deserted. Otherwise, people surely would have wondered what the hell the two of them had been doing, wandering around dressed up like they were extras in a cowboy movie.
The store didn’t appear as changed as he’d feared. Sure, the goods on display were a little different — the radios had shrunk from the large cabinets he remembered and were now models clearly meant to be set on a tabletop, and the bins full of grain and flour and beans had disappeared altogether — but the overall layout hadn’t been altered too much, with the clothing still in neat stacks behind the counters and wrapped in brown paper.
“Take what you like,” Charles said, nodding toward the clothing. He didn’t seem inclined to ask how Devynn had been miraculously healed, even though she’d been bleeding out the last time he’d seen her. Maybe her presence was enough to prove she’d survived the experience, and he saw no reason to inquire as to the details of what exactly had happened. “It’s not like I’ve got people beating down the door to buy the stuff.”
“What happened?” Seth asked. Both he and Devynn moved behind the counter and began inspecting the labels on the packaged clothing stacked there, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to get to the bottom of the oddly changed landscape he’d seen out on Jerome’s streets.
His brother smiled, but there was little humor in his expression. “Oh, a hell of a lot of things happened. A depression. Another world war. In our own little backyard, most of the mines shut down. The United Verde still has a few operations going on, but everyone’s saying it’ll probably last another five years at the most.”
A sad eventuality in most mining towns — it was rare that a mine could keep going for more than fifty years at the most, and that meant the United Verde had held on much longer than average — and yet Seth still hated the idea of it happening in his hometown.
Once again, he took note of the lack of shoppers, the way his brother seemed to be the only person working today.
“Where are Mom and Dad?” he asked. “I’m kind of surprised to see you holding down the fort here.”
Because everyone knew that the prima’s consort wasn’t supposed to work at all, and instead was supposed to be available to her whenever she needed him.
Charles’s mouth twisted. “We lost Dad a little over a year ago. Heart attack in his sleep, so Helen said he didn’t suffer. Mom followed about six months afterward. A stroke, according to Helen, but most of us think she just didn’t want to go on with Dad gone and you….”
The words trailed off, but Seth knew what his brother had been about to say.
With you missing for more than twenty years.
And even though he’d done his best to prepare himself for this eventuality, realizing that if he went into the future with Devynn, his parents and brother and everyone else he’d known would be dead, it didn’t seem to have made any difference at all. Charles’s words might have been a punch in his stomach, and Seth reached out to put a hand on the lowest shelf in front of him, knowing he needed its solidity to keep him upright.
“Oh, Seth — ” Devynn began, but he shook his head. Of course she only meant to comfort him, but he knew if he listened to a single word more, or if he looked her in the face and saw the sympathy in her eyes, he would break down then and there.
And he couldn’t allow himself to do that. Not when he needed to figure out how the two of them would even begin to fit into 1947.
“It’s all right,” he said. Obviously, it wasn’t, and yet that was the only thing he could think of to say.
She swallowed, but then she gave a very small nod, as though telling herself she needed to let it go and allow him to grieve in his own way.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” he told his brother, a little surprised that his voice sounded so steady.
“It was hard for everyone,” Charles responded. His expression was studiously blank, and Seth knew in that moment that losing their parents had been more difficult for his brother than he wanted to let on. “But with the population in Jerome dwindling so fast and no one else really available to help out, I’ve gone back to working here at the store. Not such long hours as we used to have — just ten in the morning until three in the afternoon five days a week — but it’s enough to get people the items they need.” A twist of the mouth, and he added, “It’s a good thing you came back today. Tomorrow, I wouldn’t have been here. Not until Monday.”
By which comment, Seth assumed it must be Friday. The actual date probably didn’t matter as much, although he guessed he and Devynn had returned to Jerome in October, judging by the crisp feel of the air and the bright colors of the leaves on the trees outside.
It was good to think about that, though. If he stayed focused on the time of year, then he wouldn’t have to think about the way he’d been lost in the past when both his parents left this earth. The McAllisters believed in an afterlife, and he wanted to hope they were happy there, but it didn’t change the awful reality of them being gone from everyone’s lives…his included.
“No one’s living in the apartment,” Charles went on. “You and Devynn can change up there. When you’re ready, I’ll take you to talk to Abigail. Maybe she’ll be able to make heads or tails of all this.”
Meaning that Abigail must be the prima now. Seth didn’t find that too strange, not when Mabel had already been in her fifties when he disappeared from Jerome.
He had to wonder what kind of prima her daughter was, though. There had always been murmurs that Abigail wasn’t really strong enough to lead the clan, murmurs her mother had done her best to stamp out. Her daughter was meant to be prima, end of discussion.
“How is Abigail?” he asked, and Charles shrugged.
“She’s fine. Keeps to the house mostly, especially once the weather gets colder.”
Next to him, Devynn had collected a decent-looking stack of garments, and Seth realized he hadn’t been keeping up. Maybe a good part of him was numb with shock, but he knew he needed to get together some proper clothes so they could go talk to the prima .
“And your family…?” Seth wondered if it was rude to ask the question, considering Charles hadn’t volunteered much, but it wasn’t as if they were strangers trying to make conversation.
Even if this Charles did feel like mostly a stranger to him.
“Our boy is Arthur,” Charles said, a note of pride entering his voice. “Just turned fourteen a few weeks ago. He’s in school right now, but maybe you can meet him when he gets home this afternoon.”
No mention of a daughter. The question must have showed in Seth’s face, because his brother’s expression grew stiff once again.
“We lost two girls before Arthur came along,” Charles said, his tone flat. “After Abigail had him, both Helen and the fancy doctor Abigail had come up from Phoenix told her the same thing, that if she tried to have another child, it would kill her.”
“I’m sorry,” Seth replied, but his brother’s shoulders only lifted again.
“At least we have a healthy son. Anyway, Ruby’s the prima -in-waiting now. Just turned twenty-one in June, so she’s in the middle of her consort search.”
“Little Ruby?” He knew he sounded shocked but couldn’t quite help it.
One corner of Charles’s mouth twitched. “Not so little anymore. I suppose you’ll meet her soon enough as well.”
Too many surprises coming all at once. Of course he should have realized that his cousin Ruby would be a grown woman of twenty-one now, not that much younger than Devynn, but since the last time he’d been around Ruby, she’d been a tiny newborn with the biggest, bluest eyes he’d ever seen, he supposed he could be forgiven for being just a bit shocked.
“Anyway,” Charles continued, “you two go upstairs and get changed. I’ll wait down here, just in case a customer comes in.”
Judging by the ironic tone in his voice, he wasn’t expecting that to happen. But because Seth’s hands had continued to work of their own volition, almost as if they weren’t being guided by his brain, he also had a stack of clothes he thought would work — shirts and undershirts, shoes, pants, socks. Maybe at some point, he’d need to add a sweater or jacket, but this should do for now.
He and Devynn mounted the stairs to the apartment. Although he could feel her gaze on him, full of mute commiseration, she seemed to understand that he didn’t want to talk about his parents…or any of the other changes that had taken place over the past twenty-one years.
More of those changes were apparent in the flat that had been his home for the first two decades of his life — the shabby old brocade sofa had been exchanged for one made of some sort of nubby cloth in a soft greenish-blue shade, and the big radio in its cabinet had been replaced by a low side table with a much smaller unit sitting on top.
But the artwork was the same, mostly landscapes painted by McAllister family artists, along with the Persian rug that covered the worn oak floor underfoot. He found a little comfort in that, even as he knew all the alterations he’d seen were only surface-level changes, with the much more profound one being how empty his childhood home felt, how utterly devoid of life.
Right then, a flash of anger went through him. If Charles didn’t need the place — and clearly, he didn’t, not when he shared the big Victorian up on Paradise Lane with his prima wife — then why hadn’t he given the apartment to a McAllister relative who was just starting out and looking for a place to live?
Because no one needed it, he thought sadly. With so many people gone, there were probably more desirable homes for those who remained to occupy. Honestly, the biggest appeal of the apartment was that it was conveniently located upstairs for whoever owned the mercantile.
“The bedrooms are on the next floor,” he told Devynn, who’d paused awkwardly next to him as he stopped to survey the living room. “We can change up there.”
He wouldn’t go in his parents’ room — entering that space would only reinforce the terrible news that they were both gone, and he didn’t think he could face that right now — but there was the room which had been his when he was a boy, with Charles’s right next to it down the hall. Seth’s bedroom had long ago been turned into a sewing room by his mother, and it seemed she’d taken over Charles’s room for a sort of storage space, since it was mostly filled with boxes and a couple of chairs that had been removed from active duty because they were too scarred and scratched to be used in polite company.
“You can change in there,” Seth said, opening the door to the sewing room a little wider.
Maybe that hadn’t been such a good idea. In one corner was a cloth dressmaker’s dummy, with a half-finished dress in a muted cotton print pinned to it.
A project his mother had started and now would never finish.
A lump formed in his throat, but he swallowed it down as best he could. Losing control wouldn’t bring his parents back.
“Thank you,” Devynn said softly, and laid a gentle hand on his arm for just a moment before she went into the sewing room and shut the door.
Even that brief touch was enough to bring back that damnable lump, but he swallowed again and made himself walk into the junk room and close the door behind him.
And oddly, it felt good to pull off the frock coat and vest and high-collared shirt, and to climb into the pleated wool pants and button-up shirt of crisp cotton. The construction of all the pieces felt a little strange to him, but they weren’t so different from the clothing he’d worn in 1926 that he couldn’t figure out how everything worked. He was glad of the suspenders, because in an odd way, they made him feel more like himself, like the man he’d left behind in a life that now felt as if it had almost been erased.
He was the first one back downstairs — not a huge surprise, since he knew it would take a while for Devynn to remove all those layers of clothing and put on her new ones. The clothing here seemed to be a little more complicated than what she’d worn in 1926, and since she wasn’t familiar with it, she might need a bit more time to get into the various pieces.
Charles gave him a brief nod when he reappeared in the store. “How long were you in 1884?”
“Not quite two weeks.”
Was that all? It felt like a lifetime, although something about their stay in Flagstaff now seemed a little unreal, as though he’d read about it in a book rather than experiencing it for himself.
“Why then?”
“I don’t know,” Seth replied. “Devynn’s gift is time travel, but she can’t always control it. We got sent there when we were escaping from Lionel Allenby.” He paused there and sent his brother an inquiring look. “What happened to him?’
Now Charles looked almost amused. “A horrible accident. He fell while inspecting that exploratory mine shaft. Went right over the side of the cliff and wasn’t found until the next morning. The sheriff ruled it an accidental death, and that was the end of it.”
Most likely, there hadn’t been anything “accidental” about Lionel’s demise, and Seth also guessed that his brother had taken care to remove the pistol that had preceded the other man’s “fall” off the cliff. Not that he cared too much. As far as he was concerned, his former boss had gotten exactly what he deserved.
Before he could think of an appropriate comment to make — if one even existed — a creak of the floorboards made him glance away from his brother.
Devynn was approaching, wearing a deep brick red dress with an artfully draped neckline and a skirt much fuller than what he was used to in modern women’s wear, although of course it was still simpler in cut than anything she’d worn back in 1884. No sign of the amulet, and he wondered if she’d stashed it in a pocket so it wouldn’t be visible against the open neck of her gown.
With a grim inner smile, Seth guessed she was keeping it carefully hidden so there was no chance of Charles seeing the thing.
She’d pulled her hair back into a scarf patterned in black and red and green and wore plain black shoes with modest heels. Although he hadn’t seen her add any cosmetics to her pile of clothing, he thought she must have, because her full lips now gleamed a deep crimson, and her lashes, long and thick enough on their own, somehow seemed twice as dark and full.
No matter what decade she was in, she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.
Charles, on the other hand, didn’t appear too moved by this vision, because he only said, “Let me lock up, and then we can go talk to Abigail.”
A pause on their way out so he could lock the mercantile’s glass front door, and afterward, they began walking up the hill. At least that part hadn’t changed — everyone in Jerome walked where they needed to go in town unless they had some kind of heavy load to bring along.
“Your house is empty, too,” Charles commented as they steadily made their way up Clark Street. “Mother couldn’t bear to sell it, so she started renting it out. Margie O’Dowd and her husband lived there for a few years, but then he was laid off from his job at the mine and they moved to Payson, where a cousin got her husband a job at a sawmill there. They would have had to move anyway — baby number two was coming shortly, and your bungalow would have been far too small for a family of four.”
Seth found it hard to imagine his cousin Margie grown up and with a husband and one baby, let alone two — she’d only been six the last time he’d seen her — but he knew he had to figure out a way to get his mind to accept that twenty-one years had passed during his absence, and all the children he’d known then would now be adults with families of their own.
“Is the house all right?”
“It’s fine,” Charles said, his tone now almost indulgent, as though he thought his brother had much more important matters to be concerned about. “Everyone’s always kept an eye on it, so there hasn’t been any vandalism even though it’s been standing empty for almost eight months now.”
Seth supposed he would have to be satisfied with that answer. Walking next to him, Devynn gave him a questioning look, but he only shook his head. They needed to get this conversation with Abigail over with, and then he and Devynn could figure out what they should do next.
He knew one thing, though.
He sure as hell wasn’t going to worry about what it might “look” like to have her stay with him at the bungalow. After all their forced separations, they were going to be under the same roof, damn it.
Well, as long as she was all right with the idea, obviously.
At least the prima’s house on Paradise Lane looked the same as it always did, its paint white and fresh, its shutters a friendly green in contrast. True, the front lawn was starting to look yellow, but that always happened in late October.
It did feel a little strange to simply walk inside rather than knock and wait, but Seth reminded himself that this was Charles’s house as well, and he certainly didn’t need to stand on ceremony.
They passed the large formal parlor at the front of the house, clearly headed for the much homier space at the rear, the one that overlooked the gardens. A fire danced in the hearth, even though the day had felt mild enough to Seth and he really hadn’t thought such a thing should be necessary.
A woman sat in an armchair there, a piece of tatting lying neglected in her lap as she seemed to stare out into the garden, already trimmed back in anticipation of the coming winter. Her head turned toward them as they approached, recognition and shock registering in her pale blue eyes.
This had to be Abigail, but she was even more changed than Charles, her fair hair now almost entirely silver, dark shadows under her heavy-lidded eyes. She’d always been thin bordering on frail, but now she seemed nearly translucent, as though the October sun could somehow shine right through her fragile skin.
“Seth?” she said, her voice almost sounding like a ghost’s as well, thin and whispery.
“Yes,” he replied, stepping forward. “I’ve come back.”
Her faded blue eyes shifted toward Devynn. “Who is this?”
“Devynn Rowe,” she replied, moving so she was shoulder to shoulder with him. “I was here briefly in June of 1926, but you might not remember that. I don’t think we were ever formally introduced.”
Abigail’s sparse brows pulled together, and then she nodded. “The girl who was found at the mine?”
“That was me,” Devynn said. “And I’m a witch, although I was doing my best to hide it from everyone.”
The prima seemed nonplussed by this information. “Charles, did you know about this?”
Seth’s brother stepped forward. “Not until the end, right before they both disappeared.”
“How very curious.” Abigail paused there, and one thin hand plucked almost fretfully at the tatting in her lap. “But I suppose we should tell the elders — and let everyone else know Seth is back, just so they aren’t startled to see him wandering around town.”
He didn’t know whether he was in danger of that, since they hadn’t passed a single soul on their way up to Paradise Lane. Then again, it was the middle of a workday, when most people would be otherwise occupied.
“I’ll send word,” Charles said, then glanced over at Devynn and Seth. “If you’ll excuse me for a few moments.”
He went out then, leaving the two of them to stand awkwardly in the back parlor. Abigail hadn’t invited them to sit down, so Seth thought it was probably better for them to remain where they were.
Once he was gone, though, the prima sat up a little straighter in her chair. “Why come back now? I should think you’d want to take Seth back to where you started.”
Well, that had been the plan.
“Because I can’t fully control my talent,” Devynn said frankly. “And I’m not really sure why we’re here at this particular moment in time. I suppose that’s something Seth and I will need to figure out.”
Again, Abigail looked as if she wasn’t quite sure how she should respond. But then she shrugged and reached for a small silver bell that sat on the diminutive side table next to her chair. An imperious little ring, and she added, “While we wait, you should have some tea.”
Seth wasn’t sure tea would help much — after everything he’d heard in the last half hour, he thought he wanted something much stiffer…assuming Prohibition was no longer the law of the land — but he managed to smile at his cousin. “That would be very nice, thank you.”
A woman who was probably around the prima’s age but looked at least thirty pounds heavier and much more lively entered the room. “Yes, Mrs. McAllister?”
“Some tea for my guests, Dorothy.”
The woman — either the housekeeper or the prima’s personal maid — nodded and said she’d be right back out with it.
Sure enough, she returned with a silver tea service that Seth was pretty sure had come over on the boat with the original McAllisters back in the 1870s. No sooner had she poured a cup for him and Devynn than he heard voices coming down the hall from the entry, and soon enough, Charles entered the room with the three elders in tow, along with a group of whoever else he’d been able to collect on that Friday morning.
To his surprise, he realized one of the elders was his cousin Helen, the healer. The other two elders, Gilbert McAllister and Josiah Miller, were the same, although obviously much older than when he’d last seen them.
“How is this possible?” Gilbert asked, an echo of the prima’s words from only ten minutes before.
But even as Seth opened his mouth to reply, a woman’s voice cut through the room, stopping him before he could speak.
“Help. Come help!”
What the hell?
“It’s Ruby,” Charles said, his face growing pale. “She’s in trouble!”
“How…?” Seth managed, and his brother shook his head in impatience.
“Calling out to the clan is one of her talents,” he said. “We have to go help her!”
“A little while ago, I saw her walking down by the overlook just past the Flatiron,” Helen put in. “Let’s go.”
The overlook was at least a ten-minute walk from the prima’s house on Paradise Lane. Whatever was going on, Seth didn’t see how the elders could possibly get down there in time to be of any use.
Whereas he….
“We can help,” he said, and reached out for Devynn’s hand. “Do you have the amulet?”
She nodded, comprehension clear in her wide blue eyes.
“Then let’s go.”
He put his arms around her waist, and immediately the crowded back parlor in the prima’s house disappeared, replaced by the winding curve of Jerome’s main street as it snaked its way down the hill. To one side was the large building that had been a boarding house in his time, while across the road was only a narrow guardrail and a sweeping vista that afforded some of Jerome’s best views.
A screech of tires, and two large black cars headed down the hill, smoke billowing in their wake. And while the wild thought went through Seth’s mind that he knew there was only one way down the hill and he could jump ahead to block the road, he also realized that whoever was driving those cars would probably mow him down without a single thought.
Where was Ruby?
“Oh, my God,” Devynn said, and he whirled. She stood a foot away from him, face stark white, making the lipstick she wore stand out like blood.
“What is it?” he demanded. Normally, he would never have used that tone with her, but he knew he was just about at his limit. Too many shifts in time, too many details and losses to absorb.
“My dreams,” she breathed, then went on quickly, “I kept having strange dreams the past couple of days. Dreams about a black car and a man with black hair. But I couldn’t put it together. I didn’t know what those images meant.”
She hugged her arms around herself, although the day was mild enough out here in the sun.
Staring straight at him, Devynn concluded,
“Jasper Wilcox — the Wilcox primus in this time — just kidnapped your prima -in-waiting.”
Seth and Devynn’s story will conclude in Killing Time , coming in February 2025!