14. Chapter 14
Chapter 14
O nce again, Emily watched Mama search for the purse. Her hands twitched, ready for action.
She waited until Mama went upstairs; in a few seconds, she’d find the purse. All Emily needed to do was stall. If Mama spent ten or fifteen more minutes here, the idiot who had to run into her car would be long gone, and she’d be fine.
Emily took the car keys from the bowl on the shoe cabinet and jiggled them. She could do something extreme, such as flush them down the toilet… but she didn’t want to burden Mama with more problems. A kitchen cupboard: perfect. Mama would find them eventually.
She turned to the kitchen and—
No . She recognized the feeling well by now. Give me five seconds, just let me hide the goddamn keys—
The keys fell to the ground. She felt disconnected, as if watching her body from above, and she was pulled back.
“Oh, screw you!” Emily yelled into the emptiness of her bedroom. She hated not knowing how this time travel thing worked. Sometimes, she could stay in another time for minutes. Ten, twenty. But in instances such as this, she got thrown back much sooner.
She tried again. Doorway to the kitchen. Keys on the floor.
“Got you now.” She picked them up. Kitchen cupboard—
Punch . Back on the bed. It was like a glitch in a video game.
She slumped against the wall, crying out in fury. How hard was it to put a damn set of keys in the damn cupboard?
This had seemed like a perfect solution. Somehow, time travel was real, and somehow, Emily had the two things needed—a device and instructions. Over the last two weeks, she’d been learning through trial and error. Minor things at first: went back a day, wrote herself a note and hid it, then found it in exactly the same place. Went forward a day, saw how Nicky would burn the grits for dinner—and when the time came, it happened.
With this power, she could save Mama. Only when it came to that event, time travel was suddenly much harder.
She’d tried convincing Mama to get something other than a turkey a few days before that fateful evening, when they went shopping. Thrown back before she could finish the suggestion.
She’d tried buying a new turkey herself. Never made it out of the house.
She’d tried texting Nicky, talking to Miss Celeste to cancel, she even attempted to flatten a tire on Mama’s car. Nothing stuck.
On the other hand, she now understood why her memory of that day had always been patchy. Emily thought she’d repressed certain events; but what if she couldn’t remember them because her other self had taken over her and did her own thing?
If only that would hold a solution.
She closed the lid of the watch and put it against her forehead. The metallic coldness did little to soothe her. She was a shitty time traveler, that was it. Just like she couldn’t make a recognizable hat out of clay, she couldn’t do time travel right.
But there was one person who could.
Fabienne Marshall, née Beaumont. Though Emily was far from being done with translating the diary, she’d found out some stuff about her. Fabienne had been recruited for a mission, and time travel would help her save her family.
They had the same goal. The only problem was that Fabienne was far away—in more than one sense.
Emily passed the moss-covered monumental tombs and empty-eyed statues of angels of Bonaventure Cemetery and headed for a part with newer and humbler graves. She stopped at a tombstone listing several people, the most recent of them buried in ‘94. She needed a place that was both peaceful and unpopulated, and could help her quickly determine if she’d successfully traveled back. Way back.
“Uh, hey there.” She raised her hand awkwardly. She’d brought a flower as an apology for disturbing. “Don’t mind me. Just need your help with something.” Talking to a tombstone. Wonderful. Between this and time travel, she had to wonder how crazy she’d become.
But she had a job to do. She checked no one was in the vicinity, sat down and prepared the watch. Thirty years back: way before she was born. To contact Fabienne, she needed to know how time travel over such distances worked. When she’d gone back previously, she always appeared in her own body. But what if she went so far back there would be no body to appear in?
She closed her eyes before the travel—the blurry spots that appeared when she traveled were nauseating.
The temperature changed—the first sign of successful travel. Exhilarated, Emily opened her eyes. She was in the same spot, in front of the tombstone.
Also, she was naked.
She yelped and curled into a ball, glancing around. At least she was still alone. But that was not the intended use of time travel. She tried to will herself back to the present—and hopefully a clothed state—but nothing happened. Go figure. The one time she wanted to be punched back, she couldn’t.
Something cold pressed to her skin. Her watch. She was still clutching it. Strange. The watch had never traveled with her before.
The bushes rustled. Emily ducked behind the tombstone, letting out a breath of relief when the intruder turned out to be a bird. Her eyes fixed on the engravings on the stone.
The ‘94 inscription was gone. She’d done it! She was in the past.
She was also still naked, so she needed to get out of here before some long-haired, bell-bottom-pants guard came to arrest her.
Maybe the watch would work the other way around. She reversed the hand that controlled the years, moving it thirty units clockwise. Punch! Back in a slightly-warmer version of December—and luckily, fully clothed.
“Yeah, sorry you had to see that,” she murmured at the tombstone. She was a tombstone-talker now, she had to face it.
Well, she’d file that as a success. Save for one problem. If she wanted to seek out Fabienne, she’d have to first get to where she was. Hartford.
Emily stood and brushed the dirt from her pants. At least she’d accomplished something. Sarah was waiting for her to go to the Christmas Parade. This problem could wait.
It wasn’t as if the past was going anywhere.
The last day before Christmas break was chaos in the best way. During study hall, two paper planes whizzed past Emily’s head, and homework was far from anyone’s mind. Sarah had finished the latest book on her unexplained phenomena list (yetis, this time) and Emily was happy to have a distraction. Mrs. Spencer hadn’t been the most satisfied about her War Technology paper and made an ominous statement that they were up ‘for a talk’ after the break.
Emily could hardly tell her she hadn’t put much effort into the paper because she had better things to do. Time travel things.
The house was no more peaceful than the school. Debbie was preparing for her performance in the choir, and she practiced constantly and loudly.
“I should be grateful you never picked up a musical instrument,” Nicky remarked to Emily as Debbie made her third passage through the hallway, displaying her impressive vocal range.
“It’s not too late. What do you think would suit me more, drums or a trumpet?”
Nicky comically wagged her finger.
Dinner was full of laughter and excitement as the girls and Nicky shared their holiday plans. A musical performance that evening; ice skating the next day; the girls meeting their friends. One topic was less cheerful—as they talked about visiting Mama, Emily’s thoughts again lingered on last Christmas. She was still partially distracted when, half an hour later in her room, her phone rang. Halfway toward reaching for it, she paused as she saw the caller.
Dad.
Her stomach churned. Was he calling about his visit? She thought they’d had it all arranged. It was the same every year. Mama—or Nicky, this year—sent him a calendar marking the available dates, usually birthdays or events. He picked one, turned up, made everything awkward, and went back home. Would it be even stranger this year, without Mama? Would Dad pull back more? From the few memories she’d had of him before the divorce, Dad used to be funny and kind and everything a dad should be. She’d been only six when her parents divorced, and remembered little of it, probably because she’d also been sick at the time.
Or maybe, she didn’t want to remember what turned the Dad who used to play with her in the back garden and teased her about digging a tunnel to China into the man completely out of touch with his family.
Her fingers hovered above the button. The ringing had been going on for a long time—he’d stop any second now, and it would end—
She picked up.
“Emily,” came from the other side. “Hi, there. How are you?”
“I’m okay, Dad.” So far, so good. The greeting was the easy part.
“And the others?”
She bit back a tart reply. When communication was in order, Dad most often spoke with her, as she was the middle ground between resentment—Nicky—and moody teenage behavior—Debbie.
“We’re all fine, Dad. You can talk to Debbie when you come, anyway.”
He cleared his throat. “Ah, yes. The Christmas performance. Listen, I won’t be able to make it.”
Emily clenched her fist. Stranger or not, Debbie would be disappointed. And she didn’t even want to think of the fuel this would give to Nicky’s rants.
“But we agreed.”
“I know. I’m so sorry. Some unexpected business came—”
In an electronics factory? “You have to work in the evening? All the time? You can’t even—”
“It’s a personal matter. I’ve some things to settle in Hartford. They’re very insistent. But you tell Nicky to send me the calendar for the next year, okay? I’ll pick a new date.”
Evading, once again. The fist tightened, and she snapped. “How about you tell Nicky? And you can call Debbie, too. It’s her performance, she’s the one you should apologize to. Not me.” Her voice shook, and she paused for a breath. She didn’t want Dad to think she’d cry. He didn’t have that power over her.
“Emily—”
“Bye, Dad.”
“Please, Emily. I didn’t do this intentionally. I didn’t want to be stranded here during the holidays, dealing with Grandma’s old legal issues…”
She let him ramble on while she calmed down, only half listening. Then she remembered what he had said before. “Hartford?”
“Sorry?”
“You said you’d be in Hartford.”
“Yes,” Dad said slowly.
“The Hartford in Connecticut?”
“That one, yes. Emily, what’s this about?”
“Uh, nothing. Listen, I’ll talk with Aunt and Debbie. And I’ll call you back.”
“Call me b—”
“Bye!” She ended the call and bit her lip. Perhaps all was not lost yet.
Some manipulation was in order.
Nicky was in the living room, drying fresh nail polish. Her fingers stretched out like starfish, giving her a look of exaggerated comical surprise.
Emily sat down next to her. “Dad called.”
Nicky turned her head, a cucumber slice sliding off her eye. “He did?”
“He won’t be here for Christmas.”
Nicky opened her mouth.
“But he said,” Emily quickly continued, “that since he can’t come, I could go visit him.”
“You, visit him ?”
“You know, because the point is we see each other, not where that happens.”
“So he invited you to Philly?”
“Hartford, actually.”
“Where’s that?”
“Connecticut.”
“Ugh.” Nicky visibly shuddered. “I don’t see why you’d want to go up there and spend the holidays with a bunch of Yankees. It’s probably colder than a well digger’s butt. No, honey, you’ll stay here, and if he wants to see you he better take the time and come. Or he can write an apology on his next alimony check.”
“I know it’s not nice of him.” Emily folded her hands in her lap. She didn’t like pleading for her dad, especially when he didn’t deserve the defense. “But can’t you think about it? God knows when he’ll visit again.”
Nicky snorted. “That’s his problem. Besides, how are we going to get you up there?”
“Get Emily where?” Debbie’s voice came from the doorway.
“Oh, honey, nothing,” Nicky said. “Your dad won’t be able to visit for Christmas. And now he’s trying to patch it up by saying you can go to him, instead.”
“Why were you talking only about Emily, then?”
Oh. Emily hadn’t considered that problem.
“Well, I’m sure he meant both of you,” Nicky said. “But that doesn’t matter. You’re not going.”
Debbie clenched her fists. That reaction to Dad must run in the family. “It’s fine. I… I don’t have the time to go, anyway. I need to study to make it into the history competition.” Head held high—and a little stiff—she disappeared down the hallway.
Emily looked at the floor. Debbie was upset, even if she wouldn’t want to admit it—but Emily couldn’t admit to her real plans. “I think he said something about buying plane tickets,” she told Nicky. “I’m not sure, though. I said I’d call back.”
“Did he, now?” Nicky pursed her lips. “I’ll be honest. I didn’t expect him to want to see you so badly.”
Emily shrugged. Dad didn’t want to see her that much, and she wasn’t looking forward to more awkward conversations, but she had to seize this opportunity.
“So can I tell him you gave me permission?” She tried a tentative smile.
“Fine.” Nicky threw her hands in the air. “I guess even he can do a thoughtful thing once in a blue moon. Although, if he really were that thoughtful—”
“Thank you!” Emily kissed her on the cheek and ran to her room. Now she only needed to call Dad and tell him the reverse story. With the general lack of communication between him and Nicky, nobody would suspect anything. And Dad wouldn’t dare to weasel out of this one.